Before the Storm: The Rise of Firefly

Chapters

Part 2 - Duels and Destiny
Part 3 - Amulets and Alicorns
Part 4 - Truth and Reconciliation
Part 5 - Graduation
Interlude #1: Flying on the Blindside
Part 7 - Innocence Lost
Part 8 - Face to Face
Part 9 - Why We Fight
Part 10 - The Gathering Storm
Part 11 - Breaking Point
Part 12 - Ultimatum
Part 13 - Vigiliance
Part 14 - Know Thy Enemy
Interlude #2, Part 1: Cat's-Eye Gleam
Interlude #2, Part 2: Thunderstruck
Interlude #2, Part 3: Eye for an Eye
Part 15 - Sentry of the Sky
Part 16 - The Next Guardsmare
Part 17 - Letting Go
Part 18 - Summer Sun, Winter War
Interlude #3, Part 2: Vengeance and Wrath
Part 19 - The Calm...
Part 20 - ... Before the Storm
Part 21 - Rubicon
Interlude #4: The Flight of Plexippa
Interlude #5, Part 1: Carrying One's Weight
Interlude #5, Part 2: Defender of Harmony
Appendix A: Equestrian Order of Battle
Appendix B: Gryphon Order of Battle
Appendix C: Equestrian Military Awards
Appendix E: Rank and Force Structure of the Equestrian and Gryphon Militaries
Part 1 - Prologue
Part 6 - Outpost Epsilon
Interlude #3, Part 1: The IS-2 Incident
Appendix D: Maps of Equis

Part 2 - Duels and Destiny

My earliest foalhood I remembered little of, nor wanted to, for my only recollections were of the orphanage that was my home for many years. Many a lonely night did I wonder… who were my parents? What had happened to them? Were they dead or was I just abandoned?

And in either case, why?

They were questions that had answers, but ones I would not know for a long time—all the orphanage staff could tell me was that I had been with them since I was but an infant, delivered there by a hooded pony who begged them to ‘take care of this little one’, but over time, they mattered less to me.

I was always a very rough-and-tumble pony, a pegasus who loved practicing stunts and enjoyed getting into scraps with the local colts and fillies whenever she could. It drove my caretakers at the orphanage mad, but they eventually learned that I simply didn’t take well to confinement or discipline—I needed the sky, and I had a competitive fire that would simply not be quenched.

And as my town abutted Fort Spur, the training center of the Armored Guard, there were always things to watch.

The base itself was off-limits to visitors, of course, outside of a few special occasions, and magical shields and anti-intrusion enchantments prevented pegasi or any other ponies from entering or even flying over it. It didn’t keep me from watching base activity from clouds and nearby hills, though, my sharp eyes able to pick out various fighting and training drills recruits were endlessly put through.

They were warriors and I wanted to be one; I fantasized endlessly about joining them and making a name for myself, of donning that gleaming armor and the title of Guardspony itself. Their training was said to be brutal but in truth, had never seemed that bad to me …

At least, not until I joined them.

Before The Storm

“So, you actually followed through with your plan?” Wind Whistler asked me later that day over a mug of apple ale at the local pub.

I nodded at my oldest and dearest friend, one I’d known since I was six. We’d played together, grown up together, and gotten in more than a little trouble together over the course of our upbringing. “Methinks I shocked the recruiter something fierce,” I chuckled. “’Tis no secret that in the event of war, ’tis the mares that do the fighting. So why would I bother with the pretense of a maid or some other servant when I wish to wear the colors of Equestria proudly?”

Wind Whistler sighed. Looking at us, one might think us color-inverted twins. Whilst I had a bright pink coat and blue mane with a cutie mark consisting of two parallel lightning bolts, she had a blue coat and pink mane with a cutie mark of pink and blue whistles, as she had a odd talent for making whistles and windchimes. We had first encountered each other during one of my practices for my eventual entry into the Guard, when I was yet a filly, seeking solace from the orphanage I’d grown up in, watching the Guardspony training at Fort Spur from a cloud and dreaming of the day I would be of age and ready to join them.

That day had finally arrived, on the occasion of my nineteenth birthday—the minimum age for entry. Whilst my pegasus friend had little interest in being a soldier herself, enjoying more her books and crafts—rather ironic given that she was the daughter of a military family—she nonetheless gave me some advice that I took to heart, eventually becoming my trusted friend, playmate and confidant. Each day since, she had visited, always offering another bit of wisdom for my training and life, even sometimes willing to be my sparring partner.

Our friendship had grown slightly due to her visits, but ’twas cemented when a group of Diamond Dogs had ambushed her on her way to my practice field. Her cry of alarm had caught my attention, and I flew to investigate, discovering that she’d been cornered and snared by the rough-looking fivesome, who were shaking her down for any gems or bits they could find.

Forsaking the caution that taking on such a burly group alone would have normally demanded, I flew at my greatest speed into what appeared the group’s alpha male, blindsiding him and smashing his face into the ground, sparing him little more thought before giving a second dog both hoofs to the chest, breaking his ribs. This gave Wind Whistler the opportunity to free herself and summon help whilst I held the remaining three off.

Four patrolling Guardsponies arrived not a moment too soon, for despite my surprise attack and other efforts, the remaining three canines had finally pinned me down in the cramped confines of the forest path using their enchanted snares and strength, and began to pummel me mercilessly, intending to rob and likely kill me for the injury a mere female had inflicted on them—Diamond Dogs were a very patriarchal society, completely unlike our own.

They might well have succeeded in slaying me had not the mixed Guardspony group intervened, overpowering the group with strength and magic and clapping them in irons before they could escape back into the tunnels from whence they sprang.

My wings and ribs broken, I was taken immediately to the local healer and given magical salves. Afterward, Wind Whistler had asked me, “You might have been killed! Why did you aid me?” she demanded to know from the side of the bed where I would spend the next week.

“Is that not what friends do?” I’d replied in a tone that asked why ’twas even a question, and she never left my side after that.

We had been the best of friends since, her even and level mind serving to counterbalance my own reckless and daring temperament; over time she became the voice of reason in my impulse-driven life. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she mused over her own drink, for what had to have been the hundredth time since I’d told her my plans. “The stallions of the Guard are a rather prideful lot.”

“And what good does that pride do them?” I waved my hoof dismissively. “They train constantly for action they never face, knowing full well that stallions being so few, they would never actually be sent to fight. They guard a regent who doesn’t even need guarding, unless you’re seriously suggesting something could actually threaten Celestia—and ’twas there such a foe, what use would they even be?

“They are, essentially, toy soldiers who stand around and look intimidating in their armor, yet should it come to war, they would not even be allowed to take part!”

“If that were true, why wouldst you even want to join them?” Wind Whistler shook her blue head. “The Armored Guard is the self-proclaimed spearhead of the Equestrian Armed Forces, consisting only of the strongest and most skilled stallions who have already sired at least one son. They are the cream of our colts, and though their strength would not be spent lightly, ’tis folly to say they would never be used at all.

“Three thousand strong, they are an elite unit; prestigious and very difficult to get into. That is why you wish to join them, Firefly,” she said with certainty. “And that is why, regardless of what the rules may say, they shall not be happy at you joining.”

“Perchance you are right,” I allowed—truly, my friend knew me well. “Nevertheless, I am the equal in the air of any pegasus stallion!” I proclaimed proudly, flaring my wings for all in the pub to see. None of the colts there challenged my statement, as they had already learned from bitter experience ’twas no idle boast. “They have neither my fire nor desire, to say nothing of my strength or speed. I have trained hard for this chance, and there is no challenge they can give me I cannot meet!” I proclaimed to the sun and moon gods themselves.

Wind Whistler rubbed her eyes with a hoof. “Your pride will either be your salvation or your downfall, my friend. ’Tis unclear to me which, yet,” my bookish friend chided. “I grant not everypony who enlists in the Guard has the same harsh training regime you put yourself through. Nonetheless, methinks they are an accomplished group that is not to be trifled with.” She looked askance at me as she spoke. “Do you truly believe that you shall be any better than the rest of them?”

“I do not ‘believe’, Whistler,” I replied with the smile my friend had come to both expect and dread. “I know I will be different. I will finish basic training in record time, and be well on my way to becoming Captain of the Royal Guard!” I threw back my drink as I spoke.

“There is an old saying, my friend,” Whistler cautioned, knowing that when my mind was set there was little use in trying to change it. “An adage the earth ponies use: ‘Don’t sow all of your seeds in one field’. You must first survive basic Guardspony training before you can ever contemplate becoming Captain. And few ponies even make it through that training.”

I laughed. “Please, dear friend. I have already fought duels and Diamond Dogs. So what is the worst that basic training could throw at me?”

Five months later

“You call THAT flying?! I’ve seen earth ponies fly faster than YOU, recruit!”

For what seemed the thousandth time since I had started training, I bit my lip to keep from retorting. I was exhausted, in pain and in desperate need of a long hot bath, reflecting again that my earlier self-assurance had been woefully misplaced.

“You’re not a unicorn, so stop being so prissy! Get in that mud, NOW, recruit!”

It had started on the very first day, almost the instant we stepped through the gates of the training base known as Fort Spur for the first time. We were segregated into separate earth pony, unicorn and pegasus companies, stripped of any personal effects and screamed at nonstop, told how worthless and hopeless we all were… and the Sergeant Major in charge of pegasus training, I quickly came to realize, seemed to hold a particular disdain for me.

“You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers, and I WILL TEACH YOU!”

They then marched us off to the base barber and dye shops, where we were all given identical manecuts, or lack of them—our manes were almost completely shorn and our tails cropped to the bare minimum necessary for stable flight—and then, just to emphasize our low status and lack of individuality, they dyed our fur and feathers the same bland shade of grey to mask our colors and cutie marks, telling us that our special talents were useless here… that no matter who we were or what we did in civilian life, it meant nothing now.

“So your cutie mark was two lightning bolts? What’s THAT supposed to mean? That I’ll be TWICE as shocked by your uselessness?”

Between the constant drills, the lack of sleep, and the unending harassment by the stallion recruits of the mare in their midst, I was nearing my wits’ end. And yet ’twas not the drills, the lack of sleep or the endless harassment that had me near my breaking point. Sergeant Major Windshear, the pony in charge of pegasus training for the armored division of the Royal Guard, was not as bad as Sergeant Bone Deep had implied. No, he was far, far worse.

“Move your pretty pink flank, recruit! If you can’t keep up with a colt, then you don’t belong here!”

From the moment I had stepped into the facility, he had never let me have a moment’s rest. From dawn until dusk, and oft even at night, he hounded me mercilessly, criticizing my every move even when I knew they had been flawless, seemingly doing his best to make me quit. ’Twas long past irritating, and into the realm of infuriating.

“Are those wings of yours just for show, recruit?! If you can’t pull your weight here, we’ve got a nice maid outfit waiting for you back at Canterlot Castle!”

Currently, the green-eyed, slate-blue stallion with the wingblade cutie mark was running myself and the other pegasus recruits ragged, as he had for the past two months, during which time half the class had already quit, unable to keep up mentally or physically with the harsh training regime. We were performing our usual endless array of morning drills, including thousand-meter flight dashes, wing push-ups, weighted flight and weapons training, etc. Windshear was, ostensibly, yelling at all of us recruits. I say ‘ostensibly’ because he had never once moved away from me, keeping pace with me as I went to various drill stations.

“Stop your slacking and LIFT, recruit!” he shouted.“You think you can hang with the big boys? PROVE IT!”

After two months of this, my patience with this insulting stallion had worn thin and ’twas all I could do to keep from throwing the barbell at his head, knowing full well that the only reason he was an instructor was because he was a poor soldier—“those that cannot do, teach,” I had found very much to be a truism in the past, and I had no cause to doubt it here. I ground my teeth and continued lifting the 100-lb weight with my shoulders, trying to ignore him as I mentally counted how many times I’d hefted the bar.

“If that’s too heavy for you, methinks you’d like a mop and feather duster instead!” he mocked again to scattered snickers from the other recruits, whose sole solace from their own pain was that I was getting it even worse.

Having reached 100 lifts, I put the bar into its resting position and stood, preparing to head to the next drill, feeling myself getting perilously close to snapping and splattering the insulting Sergeant Major all over the training grounds regardless of whether it got me kicked out.

“And where do you think you’re going, recruit?” Windshear asked, his tone dripping with scorn.

I glanced at him, feeling almost ill, less from the fatigue than from the rising rage in my system, churning my stomach hard. “Sir, I have finished the current exercise, and was proceeding to the next station, sir!” By Celestia, having to address this brute with anything approximating respect gave me nausea even worse than the just-concluded drill.

“You aren’t finished yet, recruit! I counted your lifts, and you were short by a full ten when you put up the bar! Back under there, and start from the beginning, counting out loud this time!” he ordered, pointing back at the station with a hoof.

That was the final straw of the hay bale. I had been patient up until now, swallowing my pride and drawing on all of Wind Whistler’s advice to keep my temper in check. But being told that I hadn’t performed to standard when I knew that I had… I could restrain myself no longer.

I leveled a glare of my own at Windshear. “Sir, perhaps you were paying attention to another recruit prior to shadowing me, but you told me to lift the bar 100 times, and I did so, sir!”

He regarded me coolly for a moment. “I’m sorry. Perchance I misheard you. Are you implying I can’t count, recruit?” he asked, in an oh-so-smug voice.

“If the horseshoe fits,” I retorted, turning to face him, my eyes smoldering. I knew I was on thin ice, but no longer cared—I would put this sniveling stallion in his place, NOW!

Challenge Accepted

The entire training yard fell silent. Everypony stopped what they were doing, giving me looks of either awe or wariness, knowing I had just slipped two insults into one statement. Calling anypony a horse, even in such an oblique way, was a grave insult. And dropping the honorifics that a superior rank demanded was equally grave as far as the military was concerned.

Windshear narrowed his eyes, his wings flaring slightly. “Care to repeat yourself, recruit?”

“Why should I?” I countered, showing my teeth and disrespect along with them. “Is your hearing as bad as your math, you useless mule? You heard me plainly. And I have had quite enough of your constant berating and yelling at me! You are, without a doubt, the most despicable, arrogant, misogynistic horse I have ever met… sir.” I spat the last word out.

Despite the venom in my voice and the grievousness of my insults, he barely batted an eyelash. “Flattery gets you nowhere, recruit,” he said calmly, giving me his usual mocking smirk. “Now, either you get back to lifting and I forget that charming repartee, or you continue to make a foal of yourself and I put you in your richly deserved place… back in the maid outfit you deserve!”

I knew his words were deliberately chosen to provoke me, but I was already seeing red and too enraged to care. “So you’re saying I can’t cut it in the Guard? That I can’t already beat you? Care to put your bits where your apples are, sir?” I marched up and flared my wings, a demand to duel implicit in my words and gaze.

There was a gleam in his eyes like I’d just done something he wanted me to. “That’s my question to you,” he countered smoothly. “Sounds like a challenge to me! Corporal!” he barked over his shoulder.

A nearby pegasus who’d been observing the confrontation jumped slightly. “Y-yes sir?”

“Fetch two sets of wingblades, for me and our wannabe Guardsmare here,” Windshear ordered.

The corporal saluted and zipped off, returning with the requested items barely a minute later. They were standard training equipment, nothing fancy but potentially quite lethal in a fight. One set was given to me, whilst Windshear took the other. I pulled the harness onto my back and fastened it over my chest and barrel, then triggered the blade deployment with a sharp shrug of my shoulders, releasing the restraints and causing the blades to slide forward and outward from their sheaths. They moved until they locked in place over the leading edges of my flared wings, turning them into not just instruments of flight, but a pair of very lethal weapons.

Wingblades were the traditional and very celebrated weapons of pegasus warriors, wielded in both duel and battle, and countless centuries of use had honed their design to something very practical and elegant—strong yet thin and flexible blades that conformed to the contour of my wings regardless of what contortions I put them through and did not restrict my flight in the slightest, though their long history of use was lost on me at that moment. “When I defeat you, Sergeant Major, I expect to be given my membership in the Guard immediately and a full apology for the way you have treated me over the past two months!” I growled, my blood boiling.

My rage only grew when he gave me a sly smile like my skill was nothing to him—me, who had already fought my way through a dozen barroom brawls, bested every colt I’d faced in drills and even taken down a pair of much larger Diamond Dogs in defense of my friend. “And when I defeat you, recruit, you’ll do exactly as I say without hesitation or backtalk, or you will be out of the Guard on your pretty pink flank!” he replied, slipping into his own blades in a very practiced manner.

By this point, a rather substantial crowd had gathered, mostly other recruits, but a few other officers from the barracks as well. They murmured in confusion and awe—’twas not every day that a recruit challenged a head trainer like this; ’twas even rarer for a mare to challenge a stallion given ’twas anathema for most Equestrian females to harm one. Among those watching was Sergeant Bone Deep, who had a notable frown on his face as he stepped forward. “Sergeant Major Windshear, with respect, is this wise? Would it not be more prudent to merely dismiss her from the service here and now?”

The question nearly unbalanced me. Dismissed from the service? Never! I could never let that happen! But I quickly relaxed and smiled at the thought that by the terms of the duel, once I defeated him and proved I was already better than any trainer, they would have no choice but to keep me.

Windshear, surprisingly, seemed to agree, shaking his head and giving me a mocking smile. “This recruit is just a little hot-blooded, Sergeant Deep. Don’t worry, I won’t do any permanent damage to her pretty little tail. I merely intend to let her know where she stands, no more.” He smiled slyly. “Still, because you’re so concerned, wouldst you do the honors?”

Bone Deep’s frown grew more pronounced, but he dutifully stepped between us, obeying the order of his superior. “This duel is to submission, knockout, or disabling the other’s ability to fly,” he called out, looking between us both but primarily to me. “By standing orders of the Royal Guard, there is to be no bloodshed, on either party’s account! Is that understood?”

I nodded, already gleefully picturing the Sergeant Major’s face when I dislocated his wings. Windshear nodded as well, looking almost bored.

Bone Deep raised a hoof, then brought it down swiftly to signal the start of the duel. “Combatants! Begin!”

As soon as the hoof came down, I charged forward with a single powerful beat of my wings, intent on ending the duel quickly. My wings pumped again, giving me a sudden burst of speed, as I prepared to fly by him and clip the base of his left wing hard enough to wrench it out of its socket.

Except… that didn’t happen. Windshear blurred, and suddenly a powerful pressure slammed into my barrel, driving the wind from my lungs as I was propelled upwards. After a few moments, the pressure abated, and I nearly went into free-fall before I could recover my breath and start hovering. I looked at Windshear in disbelief as I realized what he had done…

That arrogant horse had head-butted me!

He rubbed his forehead with a hoof, then grinned. “I’ll say this, recruit—with all that muscle and such a hard head, perhaps being a maid is not your place after all.” He paused, then gave me another mocking grin. “Methinks now I was wrong—far better you be a farmer instead!”

Steam blew out my nose in my rage—how dare he imply that a warrior such as I should live like an earth pony!—as I let out a battle cry and shot towards him again, even faster than before.

But as before, the Sergeant Major was infuriatingly unimpressed, refusing to even take to the air, easily sidestepping my rapid rush and knocking me aside from a single contemptuous flick of his wing. “Attack in anger, and you play right into your foe’s hooves!” he told me as I landed in the mud to the laughter of the other recruits. “Keep your emotions under control, recruit, or they will betray you!”

Far from calming me down, that only enraged me further—this mere stallion dared to lecture me about battle when I’d already fought and won half a dozen duels? I flew back towards him, teeth bared, intending to try and clip his wing… or so I made it appear. As I saw his head begin to move, I brought my forehooves down, and managed to catch him in a headlock, my hooves around his chin. I planted my hind legs in the dirt, and heaved him into the air. Given my smaller stature, it drew many gasps from the onlooking crowd when I actually flung him a fair distance into the air, flipping end over end.

Wanting to press my advantage, I shot into the air after him, intent on clipping his wings whilst he was disoriented. However, he righted himself in a moment and flung a forehoof at me accented by a sharp stroke of his wings. I realized why a moment later, as my eyes stung from the dust that he’d released, driven hard into my eyes by a wind gust generated by his wings, momentarily blinding me. Unable to see or defend myself, I felt his hoof strike my jaw a moment later, sending me tumbling down hard.

Seeing stars, I barely managed to right myself before I hit the ground, growling in frustration as I blinked the dust from my eyes and bit back the pain of a broken tooth. “So, this is what the great Sergeant Major Windshear is reduced to? Cheap tricks and dirty fighting?” I asked, doing my best to glare at him. “Methinks you have no honor!” I spat out the words along with a molar.

“No honor?” He gave a derisive laugh, crossing his forelegs in his hover. “And methinks you are speaking out your tail! Do you think honor is going to help you in a fight against a full-grown dragon, recruit? Do you think a charging Minotaur or pack of Diamond Dogs will be impressed by your honor?” he recited in contempt. “Do you think a gryphon raider is going to act according to your honor? Or just take advantage of it as he pretends to surrender only to blind you with a flash gem, leaving the corpse of your squadmate behind as he slits her throat for expecting him to fight fairly?” he asked, and for the first time I heard an edge to his voice like he was speaking from bitter experience. “These aren’t the dueling fields of Neighpon! Honor has its place, but not in war against Equestria’s enemies! And not against me!”

With those words, he moved higher, my weakened eyes automatically tracking him as he passed in front of Celestia’s sun, putting spots in my already-blurred vision. Unable to see him, I nonetheless sensed him diving on me again and tried to dodge but this time he struck down hard on my shoulders with the flat of his blade, knocking the wind out of me, leaving it all I could do to remain airborne.

I struck back wildly with my good wing and missed, the Sergeant Major dodging my increasingly desperate efforts with ease. “Pathetic,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt, not even breathing hard. “And you claim you want to be a warrior? Make no mistake, recruit—if you were as weak and unwilling to do what it takes to win against the Gryphon Empire as you are against me, you’d be slain in a matter of moments!” he emphasized his point by swooping in and striking my right wing directly at the sensitive base, causing the entire appendage to go numb.

I fell from the air in an uncontrolled tumble, and a cry of pain escaped me as I landed on my left wing, a sickening SNAP! indicating to all listening the wing had been broken. In sudden shock, I tried to rise again, but before I could Windshear followed up, knocking me hard on my back and pinning me with his weight, snorting as his wingblade came into sharp contact with my throat. Trapped beneath him and no longer able to fight back, I felt it bite slightly into my vulnerable skin, the Sergeant Major threatening to relieve me of my life—and for a single, terrifying moment, I thought he truly would.

He kept me pinned and held the blade poised at my neck for several excruciatingly long seconds, making sure the message was driven home that I was well and truly beaten. “Were I a gryphon, you wouldst now be dead, recruit,” the Sergeant Major told me, his voice ice cold like he’d crossed blades with them before. “You lose. Now drag your sorry flank to the infirmary and decide whether you still want to go on.” He retracted his blades and, just to add insult to injury, slapped me hard in the face with the back of his wing as he stood up and stalked off, leaving me beaten and broken in the dirt.

To my shame, I lay there crying for several minutes more… hurting less from my wounded wing than my shattered pride.

Broken Spirit

Some time later found me in the infirmary, Sergeant Bone Deep resetting my wing whilst I cleared out my eyes with a basin of water. Bone Deep was not only a recruiter for the Guard but the head healer for Fort Spur as well; he had a look of resignation on his face as he tended to me. “In all honesty, I foresaw this whole ordeal when you first applied, recruit,” he sighed as his aura tended me, various medical implements floating around him. “In fact, ’tis exactly what I was afraid of.”

“You foresaw me being humiliated by one of the most belligerent stallions to ever exist?” I bit out, still despondent over my defeat.

“In truth, yes,” he replied evenly as he began applying a splint to my wing. “I knew that your personalities wouldst clash heavily. That he would press you, and you wouldst inevitably snap and challenge him. And I also knew that Sergeant Major Windshear would then show you exactly why he is a highly decorated soldier who won many engagements with the Gryphons.”

I winced, not just from the pain in my wing but also from the chiding tone in his voice. ’Twas a none-too-subtle hint that I had bitten off far more than I could chew by challenging Windshear… to say nothing of attempting to join the Armored Guard at all. Tears welled in my eyes again as I was left with the knowledge of my defeat and failure, and I found myself feeling that most poisonous of emotions—self-doubt.

Bone Deep must have noticed, as he offered up a wan smile. “Don’t feel too bad. You are far from the first recruit to have challenged him, and ’tis certain you will not be the last. You lasted longer than most, and methinks you did get one good move in on him,” he noted, cold comfort though ’twas to me. After applying the magical salve and making sure the bone was set properly, he tightened the splint, making me grunt in pain briefly, then nodded. “There. It should take no more than three days for the bone to fully mend itself, and that goes for your tooth as well. I would avoid flying and eating any hard foods for at least seven, however, just to be certain you’ve healed.”

I grimaced. Seven days grounded? For a pegasus it might as well be seven months. Or years. I tried to work up some gratitude, but couldn’t quite suppress my sigh. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded gravely. “I’ll inform the Sergeant Major that you’ll be on weeklong medical leave until you’ve healed. That means no flight, no training, and no pushing yourself. Healer’s orders. But if I may perchance make a suggestion…” his voice turned serious. “Whilst convalescing, think long and hard on whether this is still what you want to do. Because I promise that if you return, ’tis certain to only get harder from here.”

I nodded and settled down in my infirmary bed, lost in my own brooding thoughts.

* * * * *

I was discharged the next morning, my wing still splinted as I made the long walk from the infirmary to the front gate, past the other recruits undergoing their morning drills—enchantments and magical shields prevented anyone from entering or leaving the base except through the front gate, so that was my only exit point.

All activity stopped as I came into view, but I kept my eyes locked straight ahead, unable or unwilling to meet their alternately pitying and mocking gazes. I fully expected some parting insults to be lofted by Windshear as I departed, but none came; the only thing I heard from him was “eyes FRONT!” to bring the attention of his wavering recruits back to him.

To my surprise, Wind Whistler was waiting for me outside. “Firefly…” she called to me as the front gate closed behind me with an unnaturally loud clang, seemingly slamming the door shut on all my hopes and dreams.

“How…?” I barely managed.

“Everypony knows,” she told me, holding up a newspaper scroll that announced my humiliation to all Equestria in big bold letters, proclaiming with no little glee that I would be quitting the Guard.

Two months earlier, such a public shaming would have only redoubled my desire to prove them wrong, but this time, my spirit was so badly broken that my only reaction was for tears to well in my eyes. “And… why are you here now?” I all but sniffled. “’Tis over. I failed.”

She favored me with a sad smile. “Is that not what friends do?”

I couldn’t hold it back any longer, collapsing into her embrace and sobbing.

Author's Note

This is hopefully a chapter anyone who's been to boot camp can relate to. My own lasted but a week, but it was bad enough!

Before I forget, credit where credit is due: the idea for wingblades was given me by from Blue Angel, one of the best worldbuilding stories on site. I have no idea whether the author, V-Pony, originated the concept, but that was where I first heard it, and decided it was too good not to use here! Needless to say, they will figure prominently throughout the story as a primary pegasus weapon of war.

—Firesight

Part 3 - Amulets and Alicorns

Disappointments were many in my life. I felt them growing up whenever I lost a fight to another pegasus pony, though ’twas oft my own fault given I did seem to have a habit of challenging ones that were bigger and stronger than me. Much as I’d later done with Windshear.

I lacked patience and constantly strove to prove myself for reasons even I wasn’t fully clear on, except for a unquenchable drive and desire to be the best—the best flyer, the best fighter… and in time, the best warrior.

I was humbled more than once, though never as badly as in that duel; ’twas the one real time I was forced to step back and look at myself, question everything I was doing and my motivations behind them. Being such a proud pony, my friends were few, but those I did make tended to be very close ones, bonds forged in fight and flight, including the unlikeliest friend of all… the filly that would one day become not just my friend, but my very sister...

A mare that would one day save me when I was at my lowest point, and not for the only time.

Needful Things

I spent the next two days at my friend’s home doing little more but eat and sleep, my body craving the rest and good food that it had for too long been denied.

Wind Whistler spent as much time with me as she could, always there with a comforting shoulder or ear when I needed it. But she could only stay away from her work at her windchimes shop for so long, and by the third day, when I was finally able to remove my wing splint, I decided ’twas time to get out even if I could still not fly. Far better to be out walking and clear my head than stay inside and despair, I thought.

Though I initially sought the solitude of the woods, half-hoping the Diamond Dogs would make a return appearance just so I could take out my frustrations on them—with two months of intense Guardspony training under my still-healing wings, I had gotten as strong as any earth pony and would have relished the chance to show it—but I soon found myself wandering towards the town market instead. My stomach was growling, true enough, but that wasn’t what seemed to be tugging me there. No, something else was calling to me, a half-real, half-imagined whisper in my ear that promised all my wishes could yet be fulfilled.

Uncertain who or what it could be, I followed its siren song… and soon found myself in front of a strange storefront, one that promised ‘The Most POTENT of Magical Artifacts!’ that could do anything from improve sleep to enhance one’s…

Well. I had little interest in such things and was prepared to leave immediately, knowing such stores typically offered overpriced, underpowered magical trinkets to gullible ponies. Yet somehow… I could not. The strange pull on my mind was stronger than ever, and the voice seemed to be calling to me, personally.

Sensing I wasn’t going to get any peace unless I determined what the source was, I entered through the bead curtain door and looked around.

“Welcome!” a stallion’s voice called to me, followed by the figure of a pony rounding the back counter. He was a rather garishly dressed unicorn, one I took an instant disliking to as he wore the garb of a group of nomadic ponies who seemed to survive mostly on duplicity.

“Do not be fooled by my manner of dress, my young friend.” He seemed to be reading my thoughts. “I assure you I am a respectable businesspony who only wishes to help others. And there is much here that might interest you.” As he spoke, I swore his pale blue eyes gleamed red for a moment… or was it just my imagination?

“’Tis doubtful,” I replied evenly, though I found myself looking to and fro, searching for something I sensed was there even if I didn’t know what it was… and that was the most aggravating thing of all.

“Come now. What is your heart’s desire?” he implored. “I assure you that no matter what it may be, there is something in this shop that will help you. If your need is great enough, I will even give it to you for free!”

That made me instantly suspicious. “And why wouldst you do that?” Alarm bells were starting to ring in my head. I knew something wasn’t right, and yet… I couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not until…

“You seek something,” he said instead of answering me, stepping forward fractionally. ’Twas a statement, not a question.

“Yes…” I admitted somewhat warily.

“But ’tis something that can neither be bought, nor earned,” he went on, the strange red glint in his eyes growing.

I couldn’t help but slump my shoulders at his statement, looking away in pain. “Yes…” I said again.

“’Tis a dream you believe you have lost…” he said next; his tone would have been gentle were it not for the note of eagerness. “You now seek its return. And vengeance on the one who took it from you.”

My lip began to quiver, knowing that no matter how badly I might want to, I had no chance of ever defeating Windshear. “It is lost…” I told him, the events of the duel running through my head again, “and no magic can bring it back.”

“I see…” He rubbed his chin with a hoof; his pale blue eyes probing mine as if he could see into my very soul. It should have been off-putting yet somehow, I could not look away. “You are powerful and ambitious, but those ambitions have been thwarted… and now you seek to regain what you have lost. Avenge yourself on the one who wounded and humiliated you,” he pronounced with surety. “Yes… I understand now why you have come. And I have just the thing for you.”

With that, he disappeared in a flash of light, only to re-emerge from the store back through a second bead curtain a few moments later. Carried in his magical aura was a small lockbox with an odd insignia on the front, and as he brought it closer, I felt my heart start to race. My magical awareness told me there was something very powerful inside, and I somehow knew ’twas meant for me.

“Open this, my young friend… and realize your heart’s greatest desire,” he told me, presenting me with a key. “Open this, and vengeance can yet be yours.”

As if in a trance, I took it and inserted it into the lock, somehow knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was telling the truth—that the entire reason I had come, the voice that had been calling to me was inside. I turned the key and the top opened with a simple click to reveal… a somewhat large and oddly shaped pendent on a chain.

It had a dark silver triangular base inset with a blood-red ruby, with what appeared to be an onyx-carved Alicorn looking over the top of it, done in a black-and-red motif. It didn’t actually look much different than the Equestrian Aerial Corps’ Wing Warrior badge except in terms of color, and yet…

“You should feel quite blessed. For it has chosen you, my young friend,” he told me with a smile that was equal parts envious and eager. “Now put it on…” he told me silkily.

“Yes…” I agreed as its form filled my eyes. I could see and sense its massive power—power ’twas now willing to give me! And even without his instruction and urging, I found myself picking up the chain in both hooves and then raising it over my head. Through it all the storekeeper watched raptly but I was barely aware of his presence now, knowing only my soon-to-be-reclaimed dreams and desires…

As the amulet settled over my chest, I felt an enormous energy surging through me, invigorating me. My wing and body were instantly and fully healed, their already-great strength and speed enhanced enormously. My shorn mane grew out and even the remains of my grey fur dye instantly disappeared as if blown away like so much dust, fully revealing my coat and cutie mark, the dual bolts of which felt almost hot for a moment.

“Very good.” he beamed with glee as he saw the devilish, delighted look on my face. “Now go forth and test your new power. Methinks you want to. And when you are finished…” his eyes gleamed red again, in direct reflection of my own. “And when you are finished, you may take what is rightfully yours.”

The thought brought a smile I could only describe as wicked to my face. “How much?” I asked him, retaining just enough scraps of my honor and being to offer payment.

He looked surprised for a moment, but then grinned. “No charge,” he told me easily. “For long years have taught me that everypony loves something for nothing… even if it costs them everything.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that, but was beyond caring as I stepped outside and then shot away into the air, the buildings and trees shaking with my passage.

In Thrall

I reveled in the feeling of freedom that flight brings.

Three days ground-bound had been three days too many. But now! Now I was flying faster than ever before! I grinned as I envisioned swooping right into the training base, breaking right through the magical shield on the base perimeter and immediately slamming the Sergeant Major’s nose into the dirt.

Wait until that weakling Windshear sees me NOW! I thought, imagining the look on his face as he beheld me and realized he was now nothing to me. Taunt me… humiliate me… destroy my dreams… I’ll make you SUFFER for this! I silently swore with my thoughts, already imagining all the ways I would wreak vengeance upon him. I’ll repay you for everything you did to me… I will take back what is rightfully MINE!

“Firefly?” A voice broke into my thoughts. I stopped instantly, which for most pegasi would overstrain their muscles, but I was not most pegasi. I spun to look at the speaker, finding Wind Whistler there, gaping at me—apparently she’d gone looking for me when her shop had closed, only to find I was not at home or at any of our usual haunts. “How did your mane and tail grow back out so suddenly? And how are you flying? Were you not under orders to refrain from doing so for a few more days?”

“Ha!” I laughed. “That was whilst I was still but a pegasus. Now… now I am something far more, thanks to this!” I tapped the amulet around my neck as I landed in front of her, puffing my chest out to present it.

To my slight surprise, she looked less pleased than concerned. “Firefly… that pendant… I believe I’ve seen it before, in a book on dark magic.” She stepped in for a closer look. “Are you… certain you’re perfectly fine?”

I waved off her concern. “Methinks myself far better than merely ‘fine’, my friend!” I replied, taking flight again to give a few dizzying midair spins whilst revolving around her. “I am in a condition no pegasus could hope to match! Not even that lout of a trainer, Windshear!” I imagined again everything I was about to do to him, and came up with a few new ones as well.

Abruptly, Wind Whistler gasped and took an involuntary step back. “Firefly! Your… your eyes!” she pointed at my head with a shaky hoof.

I blinked—as far as I could tell, there was nothing different about them except even their acuity had been enhanced along with the rest of my body. “My eyes? What about them?”

“They’re… they’re glowing red! Or… they were, just a moment ago,” she said, biting her lip, her tail swishing in agitation.

I shrugged. “’Tis nothing. A trick of the light, perchance,” I mused, going on to fly above the treetops. “No matter. For there’s little need to concern myself with appearances when I’m about to set the standard for such things!” I proclaimed in gleeful anticipation, setting my sights on the nearby base.

She stared at me, increasingly uneasy. “’Set the standard’? What in Equestria are you on about?”

I looked back and gave a toothy, even predatory grin. “With this amulet, I need not fear any retribution from Windshear, or any of the Guard, for that matter. With this, I need fear nopony! I can do as I wish, and nopony can do a thing to stop me!” I emphasized my statement by immediately spinning up a twister that shredded an abandoned old house we had used for play and training, punctuating my words further by kicking a nearby cloud and causing a massive storm of lightning to erupt, shattering a stand of trees.

Alarmed, Wind Whistler took several steps back, her eyes wide, her mane whipping in the sudden gale. “Wh… what are you doing? Are you listening to yourself?” my friend called to me… or did I even need such a thing any more? “This isn’t you, Firefly! It’s that amulet! You have to take it off!” she came out of cover long enough to beg me over the sound of roaring wind and crackling thunder. “Please! It’s poisoning you!”

“Poisoning?” I laughed derisively. “Hardly, Whistler. It’s set me free! Made me realize all the things I can be! Defeat Windshear and become a Guardspony? HA! Why stop there?” I wondered aloud, seeing for the first time all I could have and be as I effortlessly sheared off a line of treetops just with the passage of my bare wing, the branches crashing loudly to the ground below me. “I could be captain! No, I could be the greatest pegasus warrior ever!

“Or better yet, I could be ruler of all Equestria!” I all but cackled, suddenly imagining I was challenging Celestia herself and castigating her for her weakness in the face of Equestria’s enemies—once I was in charge, neither the gryphons nor harpies, dragons nor diamond dogs would EVER question our strength or raid our towns again!

Far from reveling along with me, Wind Whistler was aghast. “You… you’re not Firefly!” there were tears in her eyes as she spoke. “What have you done with her? Give me back my friend!” she cried out as she flew up and yanked hard at the amulet around my chest. It did not budge and I immediately slapped her away… so hard she hit a tree with a sickening crack, collapsing in a broken heap at its roots.

That sound served to jar some sense back into me. I stared, in growing horror, at what I’d just done. I’d struck my oldest and dearest friend, hard enough to perhaps render her unconscious. Or, if the blood starting to pool around her was any indication…

“No… No!” I cried, flying down to her. “Whistler, I-I didn’t mean to, I, I didn’t want—” I began babbling incoherently as I stepped forward, intent on flying her to the nearest healer.

Abruptly, I stopped. Why should I? the thought entered my mind, unbidden. She tried to take my newfound power from me! ’Twas exactly what she DESERVED!

I was stunned at my own thoughts. “No!” I said aloud, not caring that I was somehow arguing with myself. “That does not excuse this! She’s my friend, and I never turn my back on my friends!” I proclaimed, starting to approach her again.

But IS she my friend? the treacherous thought came anew, halting me in my tracks. She didn’t seem all that happy to see me flying again. Perchance she hoped my injury would keep me grounded permanently, so she could continue to dote on me? Keep me weak? Keep me from my very DESTINY? My face contorted into a snarl.

“What… no!” I shook my head violently, recoiling at the very thought. “Wind Whistler would never do that! She knows how much flying means to me! She would never wish such ill upon me!” I sat back and clutched my head, only to give a derisive snort.

And how do YOU know that? the thought came, yet again, all the more aggravating for the fact ’twas somehow me, yet not. You can’t see inside her head, can you?

“No, of course not…” I said reflexively, then paused. The part of myself I had been arguing with seemed different, now. As though…

I looked down at the amulet resting against my chest, and suddenly Wind Whistler’s warning about dark magic took on a new light. “You!” I seethed, rage building in me at what this thing had done to my mind. ‘Twas a great guilt I felt as well, for not having noticed until after wounding my friend, who was continuing to bleed out in front of me. “You caused me to do this!”

She was holding you back, the voice, no longer sounding like my own thoughts, said. If anything, it now sounded like a particularly malevolent stallion speaking. She, Windshear, the Captain of the Guard, even your weak and worthless Princess… all of them are chains that will weigh you down and prevent you from rising to your rightful place!

“My ‘rightful place’?!” I snarled, not noticing my eyes changing colors between red and my regular purple with each shift of my thoughts. “My place is in the Guard! My place is beside Wind Whistler! You had no right to try and take her from me!” I clutched at my head, trying to ward off the voice and evil thoughts it fed me.

You have a greater destiny than being a mere guard! the voice replied, starting to sound angry. You are a pegasus unlike any before you! You could defeat not just your Sergeant but your very Princess! You could rule Equestria ITSELF! It told me, and I knew its words were true.

“But only with your aid,” I spat as I looked at the broken form of Wind Whistler. “Which would cost me hers. Her love and friendship is what got me this far in the first place! I shalt not sacrifice her friendship for my gain… or yours!”

So you wouldst give up your dreams for one pony’s ‘friendship’? it mocked. Such things are abstract and unreliable. Fleeting and foalish. Your power is REAL!

“Again, only with your aid,” I growled as I lifted my forehooves. “And if this is the price of it, ’tis wanted no longer!” I reached for the clasp behind my back. As I reached, though, my forelegs froze.

NO! the voice raged, my limbs suddenly freezing in place, any attempt to move them producing a sharp, even crippling stab of pain through my limbs. I have waited centuries for a suitable host and I will NOT be denied! Not by A MERE FLYER!

“’A mere flyer’?” Of all the words whatever abomination that inhabited the amulet might have said, that was the one thing guaranteed to enrage me more. “Methinks I’ll show you what this ‘mere flyer’ is capable of!” I swore as I overrode the pain and willed my hooves to move to the clasp, ignoring the imparted agony the action brought me.

They did so, albeit slowly, as though the air had turned into molasses. “So much for being able to rule Equestria,” I managed to chuckle despite my pain, laughing through a weak yet triumphant smile.

Sensing itself losing ground, the voice’s tone changed. No! STOP! If you keep me, I can help her right here, right now! it pleaded. I’ll heal her! ’Tis an easy feat! And you needn’t worry about hurting her again!

“I would never have worried about it in the first place, had I never placed you around my neck!” I hissed out through my pain, as my hooves finally found the clasp. Undoing it, I began lifting the amulet away, feeling it cling desperately to my fur and flesh. “A dark artifact such as you should never have seen the light of day! Begone!” I cried as I broke free of its invisible shackles and, the pain gone, hurled it with all my might. It struck a tree some forty hooves away, and fell to the dirt.

Exhausted from the battle of wills and bereft of the power boost the amulet had given me, I now fought to remain standing. Weakly, I pulled out an emergency medical flare all recruits were given (for even in ‘safe’ field exercises, accidents can and do happen), and lit it.

It shot off into the air, and I watched it explode with a bright flash and boom far over the treeline. My task done, I collapsed to my knees next to my dear friend, strength spent. Unable to stand, I crawled over and pulled her limp form into an embrace, trying to staunch the bleeding wound with pressure from my hoof.

“I’m here, Whistler,” I whispered, as even the last dregs of my strength drained away. “It’ll be okay…”

I fought to keep myself awake for what seemed like hours, but was in reality no more than a few minutes. Who should come swooping in on an pegasus-pulled ambulance chariot but Sergeant Bone Deep, with an entire medical team from the training base in tow. He stopped short on seeing me. “Recruit, what—?” he started.

I motioned weakly to Whistler. “Treat her first,” I croaked, my voice raw. Then I pointed a shaky hoof at the amulet. “Dark artifact. D-Dangerous… don’t touch… keep… secure…” The last vestiges of my strength evaporated as I spoke, and the world went dark around me.

An Unexpected Arrival

‘Twas well after sunset when I left the Royal trappings of Canterlot behind and arrived at the town of Spur.

Perchance I could have teleported there, but there were times I enjoyed the freedom of flight and the feeling of the wind against my wings; others when I simply wished to be alone with my thoughts. Upon arriving, my magic easily defeated the anti-intrusion enchantments that guarded the perimeter, and an invisibility spell allowed me to glide in unseen. I had in fact been to Fort Spur many times before, but this time, my interest was far more personal.

I knew the base well enough from the numerous tours and graduation ceremonies I had attended, and made my way immediately for the infirmary. Perchance the head healer, Sergeant Bone Deep, initially thought he was hearing things when he heard hoofsteps outside his office late that night, only to open his door and find nopony there. But he had not made Guardspony or Sergeant because he was weak or stupid; he sensed spellcasting in the air and knew instantly he wasn’t alone.

Nopony except patients were supposed to be there at that hour, least of all me. “Who are you? Show yourself!” he ordered imperiously, his magical aura plucking two short blades from his day uniform pouches and spinning them menacingly before him.

“As you wish.” I daresay the good Sergeant thought his career was at an end when I dispelled my invisibility shroud to reveal… myself, Princess Celestia, asking to see the ‘former amulet bearer’, now in his care.

Trying to steady his shaking legs despite my reassurance, the Sergeant led me down the hallway of the infirmary to a private room where two mares now lay, one pink and one blue. Both were sleeping soundly though one was heavily bandaged; I couldn’t help but smile as I saw they were holding hooves between their cots.

“This is her?” I asked Bone Deep quietly, looking down at the pink mare lying before me.

“Yes, My Princess,” the still-stunned Sergeant confirmed with a low bow.

“I see…” I replied, my expression troubled. Holding afternoon court, I had felt the surge of dark magic from afar and instantly recognized its source; an evil artifact I had thought destroyed centuries earlier—an oversight for which I was still berating myself, recognizing now that not one but two young mares had suffered for my foalish assumptions and carelessness. Still, I took some solace knowing that with the Alicorn Amulet now imprisoned within a magic-proof arcanocite lockbox and stored in the most secure of my private vaults, it could no longer ensnare new victims for its own ends.

It chose its host carefully, yet poorly this time. ’Tis a great relief. For the destruction this young flyer could have wrought with its power… I shook my head, glad I had not been forced to intervene. For any battle between me and an amulet-possessed pony as strong as the pegasus mare sleeping before me would have caused great destruction, and likely ended in the host mare’s death.

“Her name?” I asked Bone Deep.

“F-Firefly, My Princess.” He bowed his head low as he answered, his tone nervous. “Perchance you have already heard of her—the first mare to attempt entry into the Armored Guard?”

“Indeed?” The barest of smiles touched my face as I asked the Sergeant to detail all that had happened to the young pegasus. Somewhat reluctantly, Bone Deep did so, describing her initial demand for entry into the elite guard, her determination and fire, her battle of wills with one of my most decorated soldiers… and the duel she demanded with him that had nearly broken her body and spirit.

“Except it did not,” I noted in some amazement, my expression turning to one of sympathy. “That she is here now and not under the amulet’s thrall is evidence enough of that.”

“Perchance you are right, my princess…” Bone Deep spoke cautiously, clearly not wanting to contradict his regent, “but for all she has been through, I fear that no matter how much she may wish otherwise, she cannot continue her training,” he offered almost hopefully.

“You are wrong, Sergeant. She can,” I stated with surety, causing the Guardspony healer and recruiter to cringe. “For the amulet would not have chosen her unless she had great power it could bend to its will. And yet, nor could she have thrown off its influence unless she possessed an even greater will… and love for her friend,” I further noted, nodding down at their held hooves.

“If she could defeat such potent dark magic, ’tis certain she can overcome the harsh training of the Armored Guard. Please keep me apprised of her status and progress, Sergeant. And methinks it best you not tell her or anypony else I was here,” I finished, though my tone made clear it was less a request than an order.

For if she is truly to become the first Armored Guardsmare, she must not be seen as favored in any way… I kept the thought to myself.

Though somewhat startled by the instruction, the Guardspony recruiting Sergeant and healer bowed his head obediently. “Of course, my princess. I will speak of this to nopony.”

Satisfied, I nodded and departed, reengaging my invisibility spell as soon as I stepped outside, but not before casting one lingering look back at the young mare now sleeping soundly in her cot.

Well, young Firefly... you may have lost your duel, but methinks there is clearly something quite special about you for the battle you DID win! I knew even then as I spread my wings and took flight into the starry night under the light of my sister’s moon, a smile on my lips.

Truly, you bear watching, my young friend. I shall follow your career… with great interest!

Author's Note

If anybody's interested, Celestia reveals a little more about the Alicorn Amulet in Part 11 of The Lawyer and The Unicorn. It's M-rated, so I'll excerpt it here:

“Tia, what’s the ‘Alicorn Amulet’?” Ferro asked.

The sun princess sighed. “It is a dark magic artifact that was created several hundred years prior to Luna’s… fall,” she explained, flaring her horn to project a picture of it. “The amulet is inhabited by an ancient and rather evil alicorn spirit. It empowers the native magic of the pony who wears it, putting them on parity with an alicorn, hence the name. Earth ponies become unbelievably strong and durable, unicorns gain an incredible increase in magical output, and pegasi achieve feats of flight and weather control far beyond what they could normally do. It is a powerful artifact… but such power has drawbacks.” And I do NOT approve of how Luna now plans to use it… she kept the thought to herself. If she is wrong about her prospective apprentice, it could backfire badly on all of us…

Part 4 - Truth and Reconciliation

I left the orphanage when I was sixteen, taking odd jobs as a courier and mailmare, but I never went far from home… save once, when I saw the gleaming city on a hill that was Canterlot and Princess Celestia herself on a trip to the Capital with Wind Whistler.

Yet when the Princess gave a speech from her royal balcony, ’twas not she who held my attention so much as the sight of the Armored Guardsponies flanking her. Big, sleek stallions who were said to be the best soldiers in Equestria’s military, this despite Equestria’s badly skewed gender ratios and the need to protect breeding males at all costs…

This despite the fact they would only be allowed to fight in time of direst need.

There were many military options for a brash young pegasus who just wanted to be a warrior like me. The Equestrian Aerial Corps certainly had need of stalwart flyers and fighters, and they saw far more action than the Guard did, given they were out defending Equestrian borders whilst the Guard itself mostly defended Canterlot. And if the Corps was out of reach, there was always the Royal Navy or Cloudsdale Militia.

But no. I wanted the prestige. I wanted the shining armor and glory of the Guard, and not just the plainclothes division that mares were usually assigned to. I was stubborn, and in the end ’twas that stubbornness that defined me…

In the end, I would simply not take no for an answer, and kept coming back for more.

I remembered very little of the next few days, exhausted and lost in a feverish haze.

I later learned that Wind Whistler and I had been initially treated in the training base infirmary under heavy guard, Bone Deep and other healers making absolutely sure that there were no lingering magical effects, enchantments or curses that the amulet had imparted on either of us.

Once satisfied there were none, we were released to the care of a local healer in the town outside of the base, where my friend continued to mend from the injuries I had given her… and I in turn gradually regained my strength, my medical leave extended further for the purpose. The amulet had acted on me like an addiction even for the short time it possessed me, and breaking free of it had resulted in severe withdrawal symptoms I only slowly overcame.

After four days in the healer house, we were both pronounced fit to leave, and I finally felt ready to face the difficult decision that awaited me… Wind Whistler at my side as I returned to the training grounds of Fort Spur and presented myself for entry. My friend could go no further than the front gate, so I left her behind with a heartfelt hug and promise I would be fine. “Thank you for saving me, my dear friend,” I told her. “’Tis far more than I can ever repay.”

“Is that not what friends do?” she repeated to me one final time, tears in her eyes as she returned my embrace. She still had some bandages around her head, and would likely retain them for a few days more.

Still, methinks she was not convinced by my assurances. She knew me too well and could sense my anxiety as she watched me depart. But mere anxiety ’twas not—in truth, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so scared. The door to Windshear’s office might as well have been the mouth of a dragon for as hard as my heart was beating. Silently cursing my continued weakness, I took a deep breath and rapped a hoof hard on the door.

“Come,” came the gruff reply.

Taking a second deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside, trying not to flinch as Windshear looked up from his paperwork and turned his gaze on me for the first time since the duel.

The Sergeant Major’s office was fairly spartan, consisting of a desk and single cabinet, a teamaker and Equestrian flag on the back wall… but there were also some mementos and keepsakes here and there. Most notable were a series of items I recognized as a helm and two oversized scimitars of gryphon make, wreathed by some large red-tipped black feathers that gave me immediate pause—only gryphons that belonged to their most feared unit, the elite Red Talons, were allowed to adorn their wings that way. And for him to display them here…

They were trophies, I realized, and perhaps the source of the scarring over his right hip where an arrow had apparently pierced his armor.

Despite his reputation and the duel I’d already fought with him, I don’t think it really occurred to me until that moment that the Sergeant Major was indeed a combat veteran, and a very good one if he’d bested an elite gryphon warrior, taking his opponent’s feathers, helm and weaponry as a prize. The half-lion, half-eagle predators, longtime pegasus rivals, had united their tribes under a single banner and had a tendency to see ponies as weak and Equestrian lands ripe for the taking; it often fell to the pegasi of the Equestrian Aerial Corps to keep their ambitions in check.

Then my eyes fell on something that made my jaw fall open. In an understated display case, hanging on a side wall, was a single medal. A sun-and-moon-inscribed gold medallion set into a larger diamond pendant that hung from a star-studded blue ribbon, it represented Equestria’s highest military honor, and its presence along with the citation that accompanied it could only mean…

Far from the useless trainer I’d originally pegged him as, he’d been knighted and awarded the Defender of Harmony medal “For Acts of Utmost Valor” by Princess Celestia herself!

Not What He Seems

“Well? What is it, Recruit?” Windshear asked over his steaming mug, snapping me out of my suddenly awestruck thoughts, wondering what he must have done to earn that award. “Your leave is up and your wing has healed. I heard from Sergeant Deep about your little amulet incident, but it cuts you no slack or sympathy with me! So out with it! Have you decided to quit, or stay?”

Pulling my thoughts back together, I gathered my courage carefully, realizing that for the first time in my life, I had met my better—that after our duel and seeing his medal and combat keepsakes on the wall, I was well and truly intimidated by him. “Before I give my answer, sir, I have to know…” I took a deep breath. “Is this personal for you? Have you been trying to get me to quit the whole time? And if so, why?” I let emotion leak into my voice. I felt on the verge of crying again, but I was past caring, needing an answer, any answer before I could move on. “Is it because I’m a mare? Or am I just not good enough for you?”

Surprisingly, he stared at me like I’d suddenly turned into one of the upright-walking apes that were said to live in another world. “Recruit, what in the name of the Mare In The Moon makes you think you’re not good enough for me?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice as he set his tea and report scrolls aside. “When have I ever told you that?”

I gaped at him. “You’re always insulting me, calling me weak and useless, implying I should be a castle maid!” I bit out, looking down and still wondering deep down if that was indeed my proper place. “Why wouldst you do that, unless you didn’t think I was good enough?”

Windshear stared at me a bit longer, like he was considering whether to say something. Whatever he decided, his whole demeanor suddenly changed as he chuckled and shook his head, his eyes taking on an almost-mischievous glint. “Methinks it time to let you in on a little secret, recruit,” he said, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “I don’t think your proper place is a castle maid. In fact, if you weren’t a mare and otherwise required to go through at least six months of basic training like the rest of the recruits… I would happily have given you your oath and armor after your first month here.”

I stared at him, my jaw open. Of all the things he could have said, that was the absolute last thing I expected to hear. “But… but the insults, and the berating, and all the hoops you make me fly through—”

Windshear sat back and pursed his hooves, regarding me coolly. “I personally have no problems with you, recruit—in fact, I admire what you’re trying to do. But the nobles are putting heavy pressure on the Captain of the Guard. When they got wind you wanted to join the armored division, they told him to ‘make sure that silly mare doesn’t make it’. He, in turn, told me to ‘make sure she’s ready for anything’ because, just like me, he thinks it’s high time the nobles got off their high horse and allowed the Guard to integrate.”

He smiled for the first time since I had known him—not his usual mocking smirk, but a genuine grin. “So… I did what I must to make sure you have what it takes. In fact, ’twas certain to me you had the drive and will after the first week.”

I was having a hard time accepting what I was hearing. “If you truly believed that, then why did you continue to insult and berate me?” I demanded to know, still leery.

He shrugged nonchalantly and gave me a surprisingly straight answer. “Because as good as you are and as good as you’ve gotten, you’re still far from ready—right now, you remain more a brawler than a warrior—and I found that you worked even harder the more negative the atmosphere you were in. ’Tis why I keep using the maid insult with you, because it makes you so angry and determined that you push yourself all the more. You weren’t a match for me in the duel because, as I think you’re now aware, I’ve already seen more than my fair share of fighting on the gryphon frontier—that and the award you were just gaping at are why I’m a trainer now,” he noted, his eyes going distant for a moment.

But whatever memories he was lost in, he quickly shook them off. “After five years and a thousand recruits, I’ve gained an excellent eye for talent, for being able to tell quickly who has it in them to be an elite Guardspony and who doesn’t. So believe me when I tell you, Firefly, that you do have what it takes—that as strong and swift as you’ve become, had you challenged any of your fellow recruits to an aerial duel instead of me… you’d have knocked them out in ten seconds flat. In fact, methinks you’re already a better flyer and fighter than most recent graduates. That’s how far you’ve come in these past couple of months,” he told me, leaving me stunned anew, and not just by his surety—’twas the first time he had ever called me by name.

Sensing my surprise, he went on. “Firefly, hear my words and take heed. You’re one of the best, most talented and driven recruits I’ve ever had, but that alone ’tis not enough. In order to make it as the first mare in the Armored Guard, you will have to be the best there is. Otherwise, ’tis certain your career will only last until the first time a veteran stallion takes exception to your presence, challenges and defeats you.

“And you will be challenged,” he warned me. “Repeatedly and frequently, especially at first. So if you truly want to be a Guardsmare, then ’twould be folly for me not to push you as hard as I can. If you wish to return to training, you may. But you will not graduate until I am satisfied you are good enough to best any foe and meet any challenge you might face. And that means, at a minimum, you must be good enough to beat me.”

His words rang true, and I didn’t know what to say. For the third time in a week my entire world had been turned upside-down, and in many ways this time was the biggest shock of all. “I… I thank you for your candor and consideration, Sergeant Major,” was the only thing I could manage, scarcely able to believe that I was expressing gratitude to him! But in any event, my decision was now made. “And to answer your earlier question… I am not leaving, sir… now or ever!” I stood to attention before him and saluted. “Sir, request permission to rejoin my company, sir!”

“Granted,” the corners of his mouth crooked upwards again. “You may consider yourself reinstated and return to the barracks now—after a trip to the barber and dye shops, that is,” he frowned at my regrown mane and visible cutie mark. “But before you go, know this, recruit…” instantly, he was back in his drill sergeant persona, his voice going hard and eyes flinty again as he leaned forward. “Despite our little talk, don’t expect me to go any easier on you. I meant what I said about making sure you leave here the best flyer and fighter there is. Between that and the fact you’ve lost ten days of training, I’m going to be harder on you than ever!” he warned me ominously, his look and tone leaving me no doubt he meant what he said.

I stopped and looked back at him, giving him the same cocky smile I’d first arrived with months earlier. “I would have it no other way, Sergeant Major.”

Gritted Determination

Windshear was as good as his word.

The remaining eighteen weeks of basic were an endless series of physical training and combat drills, sleepless nights and pain-filled days, biting insults and a few more broken bones. ’Twould be a lie to say I didn’t have a few more shaky moments here and there, and before all was said and done seventy percent of the initial training class had quit. But for those who were left…

We stood in formation one week before graduation, the remnants of a once hundred-strong recruit class that now numbered but thirty shorn, grey-dyed pegasi. After spending weeks in our weighted training armor, our forms had become wiry but powerful, our wings stronger and swifter than we ever thought possible. Getting used to flying and fighting again without the amulet had been the biggest hurdle for me, doubly so since I returned just when they were starting to train us with the armor, making carrying the load even more difficult. But I persevered, and found myself finally earning the respect of my fellow recruits and trainers alike.

As I could already defeat every other recruit in an aerial duel, I could learn nothing by going against them. So Windshear had me spend time sparring with my instructors instead, slowly working my way up the command chain as the weeks wore on. Each pegasus stallion, all veteran trainers with combat experience, was able to defeat me in duels the first week and occasionally the second, but not by the third as I got better at carrying my armor and reading their movements, understanding how each thought and fought in turn.

‘Twas my true fighting gift, now that I think about it. I am called by many a born warrior, and perchance I am, but that did not mean that I was born with all my abilities and military acumen. What it did mean was that I was able to pick them up quickly, absorbing new skills like a sponge given proper training and instruction... and above all else, a proper mindset, which were three things I never truly had before I entered the Armored Guard. ‘Tis certain I gained the first two merely by enlisting and beginning basic training, but the third?

There is an old saying that when the student is ready, the master will appear. Methinks in this case, the master had to first make the student ready. The Sergeant Major recognized my potential early on, but he also knew that before I could realize it, I had to first be stripped of my pride and false self-image. Broken down completely before I could be built back up and turned into the soldier he wanted and the warrior I wished, for it was only then I would be able to listen and learn.

He was correct in his appraisal of me, and for it I remain eternally grateful to this day. He did indeed build me back up, designing his own custom combat training program for me, he or other trainers spending several hours even outside of the usual exercises to drill and spar with me personally each day. And when, after about ten weeks of this intensive and brutal regimen, I could take all the trainers short of the Sergeant Major individually? Then they moved on to challenging me in groups of two or more, starting the cycle all over again, forcing me to learn how to properly fight multiple opponents.

’Twas not easy as Windshear himself berated me repeatedly for my poor performance and penchant for charging right in, often taking on and defeating my duel opponents by himself to show me by example how it was done—not letting pegasi gang up on him, singling out weaker or more dangerous enemies for quick strikes or initial avoidance, smartly winnowing down the odds by thinking tactically, and above all else, not playing his opponent’s game.

“In other words, use your head, recruit!” he told me more than once, lecturing me angrily after each lost fight what I’d done wrong, and after a few more painful defeats and visits to the infirmary—’tis no exaggeration to say that during the second half of basic I used up most of Bone Deep’s medical stocks all by myself—I finally started to understand what Windshear meant by the difference between a brawler and warrior; that the difference between me and him wasn’t strength, speed, or fighting moves…

It was that fighting was more about brains than brawn.

’Twas not a fun time, but as we entered the last six weeks of basic, his lessons started to truly sink in. How to identify the more dangerous threats and not leave myself vulnerable to them. How to avoid disadvantageous situations and not be afraid to retreat in the face of them. How to spot weaknesses and openings. How to take advantage of mistakes and turn my opponent’s attacks against them. How to isolate enemies and force them to fight on my terms. So many defeats and harsh words were not easy on my battered body or repeatedly humbled pride, but I promised myself I would accept them and learn from each. And slowly I did, getting better in fits and starts, absorbing and internalizing Windshear’s tough teachings over time.

’Tis uncertain to me the exact moment it occurred, but sometime in that sixth and final month of basic, it all came together for me. I had at long last been forged into the soldier the Sergeant Major wanted, a finely-honed wingblade of a warrior able to defeat all my trainers whether singly or in groups. And when that happened…

* * * * *

“Recruit Firefly!” Windshear called me out and I obeyed instantly, coming forward out of formation at a brisk trot to stand before him.

“Reporting as ordered, Sergeant Major!” I snapped to attention and saluted, holding still and keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead as he inspected me from head to hoof.

Apparently satisfied, he stood back in front of me and faced me, his gaze boring into mine. I sensed I was about to be tested but wasn’t yet sure how. “Recruit Firefly… I told you before that you wouldst not leave here until I was certain you could defeat any foe and win any challenge you might face. And that, at a minimum, you had to be able to defeat me.”

There was a hushed murmur of awe from the other recruits and trainers, the former breaking military bearing to glance at and whisper to each other. For myself, I merely nodded, but felt an undeniable tingle of excitement… and a very definite twinge of fear. “So, ’tis time, then? Time for our rematch, sir?”

He nodded curtly. “’Tis indeed. Corporal!” he barked over his left shoulder.

The same corporal who had fetched the wingblades the last time jumped again, but only slightly. “Sir!” This time, he didn’t bother asking, as if he’d been expecting the order. He flew off and returned with the wingblades in record time, meeting us at the base’s formal duel grounds—a circular arena surrounded by three sections of stepped benches and an elevated, cloud-parked viewing area for high-ranking guests.

Whilst I waited at center ring, the rest of the company filed into one bench section. To my surprise, the other two training companies joined as well; their surviving dark-dyed unicorns and light-dyed earth ponies blinking at me in some surprise—they all knew I had joined, but hadn’t seen me since we had split off for separate training on the very first day and assumed I had quit long before. The Sergeant Majors of each training company stood in front of the three bench sections and called their ponies to attention, a hush falling over the entire base as the Fort Spur commander, an earth pony named First Lieutenant Ironsides appeared, escorting a surprise guest…

Captain Typhoon, the current commander of the Royal Guard, along with several aides and royal unicorn scribes from Canterlot.

Final Exam

“Recruits! We have a special guest with us today!” Windshear announced in a booming voice. “The Captain wishes to see his newest Guardsponies in action, and we have a very special presentation to make! Nearly six months ago, I began training a young pegasus mare who wished to be the first female to join the Armored Guard. Many thought her foalish for trying, but she has proven everypony wrong, meeting each challenge put before her! She has learned from her mistakes and accepted her defeats, turning each setback into a new opportunity to better herself, breaking her limits and reaching higher levels of ability with each challenge overcome. And that, recruits, is what a Guardspony is supposed to be!” he roared, to the approving hoofstomps of the entire training battalion, who had likewise all overcome a great deal to be sitting there now.

“She now faces her final test, in front of all Equestria!” he nodded at the Captain and royal unicorn scribes from Canterlot who were there to record the events. “And that test… is me.” he stepped forward into the ring and stood stiffly before me as Typhoon himself flew down to inspect us both, wearing his formal Captain’s uniform, rank insignia gleaming in the sunlight.

I stood rigid under his scrutiny as he looked me over; a very powerful-looking and face-scarred pegasus stallion who had clearly not won his position through familial ties or nepotism. Finally, he stepped back, apparently satisfied with what he saw. “This duel ’tis by my order, recruit,” he told me almost apologetically, but there was an edge to his voice as well. “The Sergeant Major tells me you are ready. Are you?” he watched me carefully, looking for any hint of doubt or uncertainty.

I drew myself up. “Sir! Yes sir!” I saluted, my heart going a mile a minute.

With that, the Captain nodded and withdrew, leaving me alone with Windshear and Bone Deep. The former donned his full Guardspony combat gear, including helmet, armor, hoofstrikers and wingblade harness, leaving me to face him with equivalent training gear. It may have seemed unfair to an observer, but I did not have the right to wear the real thing yet.

Once we were fully dressed and our blades deployed, standing apart at a distance of twenty paces, Bone Deep stepped between us and magically enhanced his voice. “Sergeant Major Windshear! Recruit Firefly! These are the rules! By order of Captain Typhoon, this is a full combat duel! Accordingly, it goes until one side surrenders or cannot continue to fight! And…” Bone Deep looked decidedly unhappy as he said his next words, glancing over at his fully stocked medical cart, his healer team standing by. “And to properly simulate combat conditions, you may use any attack or inflict any wound you wish!”

I understood the meaning of his words well. This was not a formal pegasus duel that went to first blood or flight disability only, as I had fought in the past. This battle would go until surrender… or death.

Just like the real thing. “I understand, Sergeant!” I nodded once, jerkily, reminding myself that this was what I wanted—what the last four months had been about. Another chance, another crack. Not to avenge a past defeat, but simply to prove myself worthy. I wasn’t ready then. But thanks to the Sergeant Major, I am NOW! I told myself. I had overcome all challenges before this; now facing my final hurdle to becoming a Guardsmare. And no matter how high that hurdle was…

“I won’t hold back, recruit,” Windshear warned me, though there was a barest hint of grin on his face. “And you don’t graduate without winning.”

“I would have it no other way, sir,” I repeated my words from weeks earlier, flashing my cocky grin. I wished Wind Whistler was there to watch, but the thought of her braced me, gave me strength. For this chance would never have come without her, either…

Captain Typhoon himself did the honors, stepping between us and giving the signal to start. “Combatants! Begin!” he brought his hoof down in a sharp slashing motion.

Both of us instantly took off like a shot fired from a catapult, powerful wing beats propelling us forward in an initial exchange as we each went for the other’s right wing. There was a sharp WHANG! and shower of sparks as our blades clashed, the impact rattling my wing in its socket but otherwise doing no damage. Before, such a blow that the Sergeant Major delivered would have dislocated my wing, but after six months of Guardspony training, it—and I—was stronger than that.

We circled after our first pass, which we both knew had been simply taking each other’s measure—’twas traditional in such duels to test wing strength first. “Not bad, recruit,” he called to me as we circled. “Methinks any other mare would have been knocked from the sky by that alone.”

“I’m not any other mare… sir…” I showed my teeth in a grin, which in any other situation would have been disrespectful to my superior. “Thanks to you.”

He grinned briefly, but then lowered his head in challenge, his eyes narrowing as he went back into his head trainer persona. “Really? Because methinks I’m not convinced yet, recruit. I still think your proper uniform attire is a mop and feather duster!” he used his favorite insult to try and provoke me before he slashed in again, utilizing a series of head and wing feints to disguise where his next blow would come. Before, I would have risen to the bait and rushed in recklessly to meet him head-on, attacking in anger in an attempt to make him eat his own words. But countless combat drills and training duel defeats had taught me the value of patience and discipline, to say nothing of not playing my opponent’s game. So I simply swooped down and away and then shot back up, avoiding him entirely whilst looking for my own opening.

“So you’ve finally gained some tactical sense,” he conceded from a hover, twenty feet away. “No more charging in like an angry minotaur, I see.”

“’Tis hardly unexpected. I learned from the best, sir,” I replied, my initial nerves having worn off, leaving sheer exhilaration in their wake. This was no duel, this was the real thing, and the sense of very real danger left me feeling more excited than I ever had before. “Even if you still are, without a doubt, the most despicable, arrogant, misogynistic horse I have ever met!” I retaliated with the same insult I’d used against him before our first duel. ‘Twas definitely one of my better ones, after all...

His smile returned and got wider as he replied like he did then. “Flattery gets you nowhere, recruit. And you won’t win this duel by avoiding me!” he shot back. “You’ll have to fight me to defeat me, or you really are no better than a castle maid!” he goaded me again.

I lowered my head in reply but never lost my own grin. “Try me, you useless mule!” I countered with yet another insult I’d used before, making clear that this time, I would not budge.

“Only because you asked so nicely!” He shot in again with a quick burst of speed that was almost so fast I couldn’t follow it, making it clear that despite his earlier promise he’d been holding back on me. He was on me in bare moments, yet for me, time slowed down. The instant he moved, I recognized his intent, having developed an uncanny ability to read my opponents from all my training duels—he was threatening me with his wingblades, which he knew I could evade, but the real threat came from his hoofstrikers, which he meant to bring down hard on me when I moved to block or avoid his wings. His flying form was perfect, designed to allow him to shift quickly to either side no matter which way I dodged, and he’d then punish me by bringing his hoofstrikers down hard on my head or shoulders, either one of which could end the fight and leave me with a fractured skull or spine.

With no time or means to evade, my only path was straight ahead, so I decided to use his own momentum against him. I blasted forward to meet him head-on… and head-butted him as hard as I could, the impact of our helmets ringing out loudly, causing us both to see stars and stumble backwards from the force of the impact.

Our flight wavered hard for a moment, and when my vision cleared, there was a visible dent in his helmet… and mine as well, judging by the pressure I was feeling against my forehead. So as one, we discarded them and then stared at each other again, trying to recover our senses. “So I was right all along! You really do have a hard head, recruit!” He rubbed his forehead for a moment, a visible bruise forming.

“I had to, to survive you!” I shouted and, recognizing he was more disoriented than I was from his slightly cross-eyed gaze, I tried to take advantage to land a quick blow, swooping in and aiming a blade for an exposed hindquarter. Four months earlier, using such a tactic would have struck me as dishonorable, but here…

He spotted my attack a fraction of a second too late and went into a quick tumble but my blade found its mark, penetrating his armor to put a long slash in his flank, fittingly right over his wingblade cutie mark.

I stared in wonder and horror at my feat—I had drawn first blood! I really could fight him now! Normally the battle would now end, but…

But this was a combat deal, and this time, ’twas Windshear who took advantage of my momentary uncertainty to spin hard in the air and ram a hoofstriker into my armored back just below my shoulders as I passed, causing my wings to go briefly numb. His blow knocked the wind from me, sending me into a tumble of my own.

The advantage now his, he immediately tried to follow up, slashing at me with a wingblade. But after six months of stamina training and flight balance drills, I righted myself and escaped further injury by going into a power dive, pulling out right before I hit the ground. I then flew low right over the stands filled with startled dark-dyed unicorn recruits, hearing the word ‘awesome’ from one as I passed.

Awesome… I repeated the strange word, recognizing it as one that some younger colts and fillies were starting to use. Methinks I like the sound of that! I grinned as I rounded on Windshear as he pulled up behind me, wearing a thin sheet of sweat as well as an impressed look.

“First blood to you, recruit,” he confirmed, looking back at his bleeding hip but grinning, a gleam in his eyes that told me he was enjoying himself as much as I was. “But battles don’t end just because your opponent is wounded. You can’t stop. You have to finish the job!” he warned me as his expression turned stern again, suddenly playing a different mental game with me since he could no longer affect me with insults. “Can you kill, recruit?”

I blinked. ’Twas an academic question—’twas what I was training for, after all. And yet… “have I not always done what it takes, Sergeant Major?”

“A non-answer,” Windshear dismissed me. “And one you had best ponder well!” he dove at me again, wings wide as I shot skyward in response. We made another combat pass, twisting ourselves in midair trying to both evade and target the other. There was another sharp CLANG! of clashing steel and this time, his blade found its mark as I felt a searing pain in my foreleg and outer wing, leaving my right hoof hanging limply, bleeding heavily, and several secondary feathers on my right wing partially sheared off.

The Sergeant Major noticed and held off. “That loose limb and missing feathers will upset your flight form. ’Twas a good match, but I’ll accept your surrender at any time, recruit,” he smirked, though I recognized from long experience with him that he meant it as a goad—he certainly did not expect or want me to surrender.

Still, he was right. I was in trouble and I knew it. The wound hurt terribly, and I knew the wing damage would slow me down. And yet, for all of it… I had never felt so happy or alive. What we were doing… it felt good. It felt right…

It felt like what I’d been born to do.

Adrenaline overriding the pain, I circled back for another pass, except this time I would be diving on him, ignoring my injuries. “As you say, sir… battles don’t end just because your opponent is wounded!” Taking the offensive, I dove down on him, using gravity to make up for my missing speed. Instead of answering in kind, Windshear used my own tactic against me and attacked me head-on, thrusting his hooves at my unprotected head. I saw his intention and flared my wings at the last moment, air resistance slowing my approach fractionally. That upset his timing just enough that his hooves missed my head, catching only my armored chest instead, though the sheer force of the impact was still enough to stun me and send another sharp stab of pain down my injured foreleg. My momentum carried me forward and I found myself on top of him as, wings and limbs entangled, we fell in an uncontrolled tumble.

We exchanged blows as we plummeted from wing and hoof, pummeling each other mercilessly, neither of us giving an inch. My blade clipped the side of his head whilst his hoofstriker found the base of my wing, causing me to cry out in pain and the wing to fall limp again as the sensitive nerve cluster had been hit.

Pressing his advantage, his blade swung and whiffed at my good wing, catching only the tips of my feathers, whilst I surprised him by ramming my good hoof right into his jaw, bloodying his mouth—some small measure of payback for our earlier duel, I later decided, though I can’t say I was thinking about that in the heat of the battle—and held on to him, knowing that with my wounds I couldn’t pull out in time. Instead, I forced him to try and slow our fall with his larger and as yet-uninjured wings, twisting over at the last moment to make him take the brunt of the impact as we hit the ground.

“OOF!” he shouted as we hit hard and rolled over several times in the dirt, but being on the bottom, he took the worst of it. And by the time the dust had cleared and his senses returned…

The entire arena stared in disbelief as they beheld me pinning him in place, my good wing’s blade at his throat.

I held the pose for several seconds, making sure ’twas clear to all who the victor was. “Surrender, Sergeant Major!” I directed him despite how odd it felt to be giving him an order!

“And if I don’t?” he goaded me, even managing a sly grin despite the blade at his throat. “The terms of this duel are surrender or death! If I fail to give one, you must do the other! So I ask you again: can you kill, recruit?” He challenged me a second time, and once again I had no immediate answer.

Can I kill…? I echoed the question in my own head. I don’t know yet, but… I will not NOW! I abruptly released him and stepped back.

“This fight is finished, Sergeant Major,” I told him, retracting my wingblades for emphasis. “I will not continue. And you may think me weak for saying this, but… honor does have its place! And its place is here and now!” I shouted my words for all to hear and stamped my hoof hard, then looked skyward to the Captain of the Guard, asking for his intervention.

In response, Typhoon flew down and landed between us. “Sergeant Major? Regardless of whether she gave a finishing blow, by my order, this duel is done! Are you satisfied? Has she earned her place?”

Windshear looked at him, then to me… and grinned, giving me a smile reminiscent of a proud papa—something I’d never known as an orphan. “I am. And she has,” he confirmed, hauling himself back to his hooves, and then spoke his next words loudly enough that all could hear. “I surrender! The duel is yours! Congratulations… Guardsmare!” he told me, standing to attention and saluting me as, to my astonishment, the Captain of the Guard did the same.

The stands and training staff then erupted in appreciative huzzahs and hoofstomps, my fellow recruits from all three companies cheering me loudly. They resented my presence and didn’t want me there to start, but after all I’d been through and the incredible battle they’d just seen...

In their eyes I was finally not only one of them. I was now the best of them!

I let their thunderous cheers and the feeling of sheer triumph sink in as I stood there, exhausted and sweaty, wounded and bleeding… but feeling happier than I’d ever been in my life.

Remember this feeling well, Firefly… I told myself as I refused aid to make it to the infirmary, determined to get there under my own power despite my wounded wing and leg. For methinks it may never come again!

Author's Note

Basic training is over. But Firefly’s career has just begun! Hope you’ve enjoyed the intro! And now the real fun begins...

Before then, I’d like to thank prereaders AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, and JamesCyberlink for prereading and offering feedback on a story that wasn’t even on the radar a month ago. It kind of popped out from Firefly’s cameo appearance in Turnabout Storm and TLaTU, but basically, we decided she deserved to have her story told.

And heck, I’ve always wanted to do a military adventure story. To that end, I’d also like to thank Demon Eyes Laharl, father of the Gentlemanverse of author of Feathered Heart, one of the best MLP-based military adventure stories out there, for inspiration, and strongly encourage folks to check it out if they’re interested in reading a modern-day US Marine-griffin military crossover. Much of his worldbuilding and exploration of the griffin society and military, including their units, rank, and weaponry will be used here as well.

Hope you’ve liked, and plenty more to come!

—Firesight and Leo Archon

UPDATE:

The chapter has been greatly expanded and heavily rewritten in places, to emphasize more that Firefly is very much Windshear’s pupil and protege, that the warrior she becomes is in large part due to his training and influence. I also tried to make Windshear’s explanations of his actions more believable and cleaned up some clumsy phrasing.

You may also notice some musical selections now, in green text as section headers. You can thank James CyberLink for them. Just a little bit of atmosphere, listen to them or not as you may.

Part 5 - Graduation

Happy moments in my early life were few and far between, but they taught me to savor my victories, no matter how small.

Whether winning a fight or just mastering a new flight trick, I went to bed that night feeling good no matter how badly my body was hurting… for I had also learned over the course of my scrapes and scraps to work through pain and push myself to my limits. If I did not give my best, I could not look at myself in the mirror; if I did not try my hardest, I felt like I had failed myself.

In the end, I couldn’t give up as long as I knew I had more to give, and that was ultimately what sustained me not just in basic training, but throughout my whole life… though rarely was it more rewarded for me than that wonderful day of triumph, one I would remember for years to come.

The First Guardsmare

“Stand and be recognized, Private First Class Tempest!”

The week after my rematch with Windshear had been a relatively easy one, and not just for the fact I spent two days in the infirmary recovering from my injuries, getting my foreleg healed and sheared wingfeathers regrown.

Having come this far, we had already made it so they eased up on us except for morning drills. In the meantime, we were fitted for our armor and uniforms, as well as discussing where our first assignments would be. Some new Armored Guardsponies would be sent right out into the field; others would be selected for more specialized training.

“Stand and be recognized, Private First Class Stonehoof!”

But before that came our actual graduation ceremony, where we stopped being recruits and were officially inducted into the Armored Guard. ’Twas not just the pegasi who were graduating; the unicorns and earth pony recruits were also receiving their oaths and armor today. No longer split by company, we stood in even rows in front of a podium where the respective Sergeant Majors of each recruit class announced our names and graduating ranks, recognizing one new Armored Guardspony from the pegasus, earth pony, and unicorn companies in turn.

“Stand and be recognized, Corporal Hexblade!”

Most graduates were Privates, with about a third given the rank of PFC. There was the rare Corporal here and there, but those were few and far between. It took a great deal of effort just to make it through basic training; it took a great deal more to earn a higher rank right out of the gate. And to be made a noncom like corporal right away spoke of a very gifted young Guardspony.

“Stand and be recognized, Private Hazewing!”

Recruits and officers weren’t the only ponies here, naturally. Graduation ceremonies were the one time civilians were allowed on base, meaning many friends and family would be in attendance. I had no friends or family to speak of, of course, save for Wind Whistler, her face beaming as she watched from the cloud stands that had been erected for the ceremony and occasionally wiped away a tear.

Previous graduates were in attendance as well, either to welcome their friends into the Guard, or to be arrogant and smug around the ‘rookies’, looking forward to the chance to haze them as they themselves had once been. I looked forward to wiping those expressions off their faces when it came to me.

“Stand and be recognized, Private First Class Treespeak!”

The guest of honor, however, was Princess Celestia herself. In all my life, I had only ever seen her once, at a distance during my sole visit to Canterlot. Now, she was observing us at close range as we took our oaths to serve her. It heightened the tension considerably.

“Stand and be recognized, Private Shade!”

We were nearing the halfway point of the ceremony; half of each group of recruits had been given their rank and insignia. I did not fidget, as I had been trained not to during six months of basic. Still, my mind was restless, as I began to wonder when they would—

“Stand and be recognized… Sergeant Firefly!”

There’s an old saying that goes ‘It was so quiet you could hear a hay straw drop’. I was personally never fond of it, as I assumed it to be mere hyperbole. But as Windshear’s voice called my name and rank, the silence that overtook the graduates and spectators left me giving new thought to the ancient idiom.

Despite my surprise—Sergeant?! Right out of the GATE?!—I dutifully made my way up to the podium where Windshear was waiting, the bruises and cuts I’d given him still faintly visible on his healing body—I sympathized, mine were just as bad, though at least my wing was fully functional again. In his hooves were, yes, the rank insignia of a Sergeant.

“Sergeant Firefly,” he began, his voice reverent, “do you swear to serve the Guard faithfully and honorably, to obey all lawful orders given you, to defend Equestria against all enemies, and to lay down your very life, if necessary, in service to your Princess and fellow ponies?”

It was the ritual Armored Guardspony oath of service, and one deserving of an equally ritual reply. “I do, so help me, Celestia!”

With that, he pinned my new rank insignia on my uniform shoulders and then presented me to the assembled crowd in my gleaming new armor. The other recruits cheered me raucously, whilst the reaction of the existing Armored Guardsponies was considerably more mixed.

Once all graduates were presented, we stood in ranks to be inspected by Princess Celestia herself. Even after six months of having military bearing drilled into me, ’twas very hard to hold still as she stopped in front of me. She was a very large yet slender pony, even more so than the few Saddle Arabians I’d seen, and her immense alicorn power all but radiated off her, bathing me in its brilliance. She shone like the sun—there was no other way to describe her—and ’twas hard not to be intimidated by her.

And yet, there was also a gentleness and compassion about her. I could not imagine what ’twas like to live so long a life and not be driven mad by it, but here she was, not the goddess some called her but a very real pony, paying homage to those who served her.

“Sergeant Firefly,” she called to me softly, her voice nothing like I thought it would be—’twas quiet and clear, not at all like the booming royal voice she used for giving speeches. “I understand that you have overcome a great deal to stand here now,” she noted, almost languidly.

I swallowed, glad my gulp was hidden by my gleaming new armor. What was I supposed to say to that, except… “Yes, My Princess.”

She regarded me for a moment, then grinned. “Know that I have been watching you for some time. I cannot and will not interfere with your career, but be assured that you have my respect, now and forever for what you have accomplished,” she told me. “You have earned your place and your rank, and ’tis my great hope that other mares will now follow in your hoofsteps.”

Again, what could I say but… “Thank you, My Princess,” I answered, struggling to keep the grin off my face and flush from my cheeks. With a parting nod and smile, she moved on to the next recruit in line.

The ceremony complete, we finally dropped our military bearing, tossing our new helms in the air and cheering raucously. The unicorns began firing fireworks off their horns and earth ponies started butting heads as the pegasi, myself included took wing and flew several celebratory laps, engaging in some playful sparring along the way.

As was customary, we would be getting a week’s leave before beginning our first assignments, which we would learn later. Until then… I joined the surviving members of my recruit class that evening for a rousing night of drinks and merriment at the local pub; a favorite place of mine and Wind Whistler’s called the Aching Drum. I invited Wind Whistler, but she declined, saying—rightly, I later realized—that the night was for us, and she would just be an interloper.

Our recruit pay unspent for the entire duration of our training, we cleaned the place out and made more than a little mess of it, though the owners didn’t mind—they saw this happen every six months with each new graduating Guardspony class, and a few broken windows, chairs and tables were worth it for the bits they made. I was the unquestioned guest of honor, as all the stallions were clamoring to buy me a drink in an odd reversal of gender roles!

I’m not too proud to say I acceded to their wishes, granting each recruit company the right to buy me one drink despite how odd it felt to have stallions treat me. They were also not above some friendly challenges, as I ended up in a couple hoof-wrestling matches and some contests of wing strength with fellow pegasi. Everypony wanted to test me or test themselves against me, it seemed, and how could I deny them the chance?

To be sure, I didn’t win everything. After all, not even I could beat the new earth pony Guardsponies in a contest of strength or stamina, but even the most powerful pegasi were no match for me either on the ground or in the air, and the unicorns quickly learned that I was not so easy to restrain magically either, as it took four at once to hold me down… or so I let them think.

But for all the friendly challenges, there were some decidedly unfriendly ones to follow. Late in the evening, the doors of the Aching Drum burst open to admit a trio of new stallions—one unicorn, one earth pony and one pegasus. They were all sporting military mane cuts and were wearing formal Guardspony uniforms… as well as some very angry looks. They were Armored Guard veterans, I instantly realized, and ones who had been at the graduation ceremony if they were still formally attired. They’d also clearly been having a few drinks as well at the Drunken Rat down the street if their collective breath was any indication, and had probably been working themselves up into a lather for hours.

“Okay, where is she?” the lead pony, a pegasus corporal from the insignia on his shoulders, called out, his wings and tail twitching. “Where’s that stupid mare?”

Barroom Brawl

That instantly got the attention of everypony present, all eyes turning on the interlopers. “Hey!” Stonehoof called out, immediately stepping forward. Of the earth pony graduates, he was easily the biggest, so massive I could hide comfortably in his shadow. “You don’t talk to her like that!”

“And what are you, her mother?” the unicorn stallion called out, lowering his head to present his horn. “This doesn’t concern you, rookie. It doesn’t concern any of you except her!” he pointed directly at me with a hoof, his aura casually tossing tables and chairs aside to clear a path to me.

Two fellow graduates, one pegasus and one earth pony stepped in front of me, interposing themselves. “Listen, gryphonbait—this is our night, so you can save it for some other time! You mess with her, you’re messing with all of us!” Hazewing announced with flared wings, a rumble of agreement coming from throughout the room as the remainder stepped forward as well, ready and willing to fight.

As odd and refreshing as it was to see stallions standing up for a mare, I wasn’t about to have anypony fight on my behalf. I fought my own battles, and I knew well this was likely the first of many. “Stand down, colts,” I gave my first real order as a sergeant. “If they want to have a friendly chat… I’m right here.” I fearlessly walked right up to them, my very presence seemingly infuriating them further. “So… how can I help you fine Guardsponies?” I asked.

This time, the earth pony spoke. “Oh, you want to help us? You can start by resigning your post and taking your filly flank back to Canterlot Castle where it belongs!” he spat, bringing his hoof down hard enough to punch a hole in the floorboards, causing the entire room to shake. “The Armored Guard is for stallions, not undeserving mares who probably got a free pass the whole way through!”

“Undeserving?” The word brought an immediate uproar from my fellow graduates, shouts of outrage filling the air. “Her training was worse than ours! And in the end, she not only survived it, she beat Windshear!” Tempest called out.

Three angry and incredulous faces turned on him. “Are you as stupid as you look, rookie? Windshear let her win!” the pegasus corporal shot back, fire in his eyes. “Probably under orders from Typhoon, if not Celestia herself!”

“That’s Captain Typhoon and Princess Celestia!” I promptly corrected him, my eyes narrowing—surely being just a year out of basic wasn’t enough to make one forget proper address of superiors, was it?

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you on a first-name basis with them?” the corporal brought his own hoof down, hard, easily smashing an overturned table and and advancing on me, head lowered, large wings flared and challenge smoldering in his eyes. “So what did you do to get through training, offer your flank to everypony who wanted it? And how the buck do you rate sergeant right out of the gate?” he demanded to know. “We’ve been busting our tails for two years and still haven’t made it!”

Despite his obscene suggestion, I smiled as sweetly as I could. I recognized where things were heading but, regardless of the alcohol in my system was beyond caring, deciding that if I was to survive the inevitable challenges Windshear had warned me about, I might as well start now. “Then clearly, you haven’t been performing up to par, corporal.” I dripped contempt on the title, making them take another threatening step towards me. “And as much as I’d love to write you three up for insubordination and conduct unbecoming, methinks it’d be far more fun and fitting to ‘bust your flanks’ back down to Private right here and now,” I suggested casually, thinking Wind Whistler would be proud of my turn of phrase.

He smiled like I’d done exactly what he hoped, even baring his teeth. “Oh, is that a challenge, filly?” the pegasus corporal asked, his wings twitching like he was only too ready to fight. “I’ve already fought and killed harpies on the western frontier. You really want a piece of this?” he showed off his flank and his sliced-feather cutie mark.

“Methinks you’re not my type, sorry,” I replied evenly, to peals of laughter from the others. “And ‘tis hard for me to imagine what mare actually did have foals with you. But if you insist, I’d be more than happy to show you why I’ve earned my rank.” I stepped forward to face him, giving him a level look, my cocky grin making itself known for the first time.

“Firefl… I mean, Sergeant…” one of the unicorn graduates whispered. “With respect, this might not be the best idea. I mean, you’re still healing right now…”

“Methinks you might want to listen to your friend, there.” The earth pony grinned, his tone mocking. “You accept a challenge from Shadowslash here, ’tis certain your career as an Armored Guardspony ends tonight!”

I sighed and put on my best impression of a cowed air. “I guess you’re right… it would be a rather unfair fight…” I lowered my gaze, but then raised it back up, fire in my eyes. “After all, ’twould hardly be a challenge for me to fight him one-on-one, so I hereby challenge all of you to a three-on-one match! We duel to knockout or submission, and the terms are simple: you win, I resign the guard. I win, you go home with your tails between your legs and get busted all the way back to private!” I grinned toothily. “So what say you?”

They gaped at me, and they weren’t the only ones, the entire graduating class looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Well now…” Shadowslash finally spoke. “You drive a hard bargain, filly. But methinks we can accommodate you,” he exchanged gleeful looks with his two compatriots, who nodded and grinned back. “We say yes! Care to step outside…?”

* * * * *

A minute later I stood in the center of the plaza outside the Aching Drum, facing my three opponents much as I’d faced Windshear but a week earlier. The thought of that battle still caused my heart to race and breath to quicken—for he was worthy. He was a true challenge and a final test that marked the end of a long and difficult journey. But these three…?

Three half-drunk, belligerent Guardsponies who didn’t respect my ability or accomplishments barely rated my time or attention.

But they would have it nonetheless as we took fighting stances, heads lowered, wings flared and horn presented, Hexblade stepping forward between us to give the signal to start, slashing downward with a hoof.

“Combatants! Begin!”

Whereas Shadowslash immediately shot towards me, intending to end the duel quickly, I smiled and made one powerful downward beat with my wings to blast up a cloud of dust, instantly following up with a swift stroke forward to drive it right into my opponents’ eyes—a trick I had learned from Windshear—distracting the unicorn in particular just long enough for me to take flight. I could overcome his aura, but I didn’t need it slowing me down, firing bolts at me or just plain shining a spotlight on me.

Windshear had been right when he said I was more brawler than warrior, given my previous penchant for charging right in and mixing it up with as many opponents as I could. But his training and many lost duels with my instructors had taught me patience and how to examine situations tactically, and I put those hard-learned lessons to use here.

“Coward!” Shadowslash called after me as I initially flew away, taking off after me, coughing hard and trying to blink the dust clear of his eyes. “Is all you can do run and hide? You abandon the field, you forfeit the fight!”

I stayed silent and grinned. I knew that. And I hadn’t, since the terms of the duel had never specified exactly what our arena boundaries were. And given that oversight, it became very easy to isolate and take out my opponents in sequence… just as Windshear had taught me.

Losing a blurry-eyed Shadowslash briefly in the darkness of the woods, I immediately circled back and darted between trees and buildings, heading back towards the light of the plaza outside the pub. Emerging out of an alley, I applied another lesson by taking out the most dangerous target first, striking out of the darkness to blindside the unicorn right as he launched an illumination flare to find me. I knocked him out with a single blow to the side of his head; his flare and the glowing aura surrounding his horn immediately flickered out like a shattered lantern. The magical threat eliminated, I dodged the retaliatory leap of the earth pony stallion, whose hooves smashed open a barrel in my wake, but then he pulled a sentry slingshot—a non-lethal version of a combat crossbow—and in a single smooth motion fired a projectile that sizzled past my head, one that would have given me a severe bruise or concussion if it hit. He was a good shot, but even if he was wielding an actual crossbow, he had little chance of bringing down a target as fast or elusive as me.

With the unicorn down, I didn’t have to worry about magical attacks and immediately set out to take down Shadowslash, who was bearing down on me from behind, cursing up a storm the whole way. Control your emotions, or they WILL betray you! I remembered Windshear’s words with a grin, and finally I was seeing the truth of it from the other side. My pegasus opponent clearly thought he was the fastest thing on four hooves or two wings, so I played to that, letting him slowly catch up to me, only to put on a burst of speed just as he was about to catch me, infuriating him further, making him take ever more reckless chances…

Completely oblivious to where I was leading him until I led him around a blind corner and he ran headlong into a tree. He clearly didn’t know the layout of the town as well as me; then again, I’d lived here my whole life and had led him down an obstacle course I’d flown oft as a filly. There was a pained cry that accompanied several branches snapping, and he fell in a tangle of leaves and limbs to the ground, bleeding through his badly torn uniform.

“Y-you…!” he struggled to rise again as I landed before him, my grin and flared wings mocking him even as he drew a hidden blade from his uniform tunic with his mouth and took a flying lunge, slashing at me with it, to the outraged shouts of the other recruits—by resorting to deadly force, he’d just broken the rules of the duel, and thus automatically lost it.

I cared not, for another hard lesson I’d learned over the past six months was that honor was only granted when given, and could never be assumed. I dodged his wild swipe easily, knocking the weapon out of his mouth with a single swift sock to the jaw—believe me, that wasn’t the first time I’d ever faced a blade—staggering him further. Reeling, he took one more wild hoof swing before I simply and quite contemptuously head-butted him to the cheers and delight of my comrades, putting him down for good. Windshear would be proud! I couldn’t help but grin.

At that moment, I heard heavy hoofbeats thundering up behind me, the ground itself shaking in their wake—the earth pony now intended to avenge his comrades and win the duel all by himself, and he would be on me in bare moments. As hard as he was charging, I couldn’t fly off quickly enough; he’d leap and tackle me right out of the air if I tried, and once he got me in a lock or landed a solid blow backed by his Guardspony-enhanced earth pony power, ’twas all over. His size and strength were massive; he was certainly the largest and most powerful of the three ponies and would not go down easily…

Unless I used my full strength. The others were screaming at me to evade and take flight again, but I didn’t… until the last possible moment, and even then, ’twas only to add power to the blow to come. I thrust down and forward with my wings just as I kicked out backwards, letting the earth pony corporal have it with both hind legs, my hooves connecting with his forehead with an audible impact heard all the way across the plaza, causing everypony present to groan and wince.

Incredibly, my strike staggered him and he stumbled forward a few more steps, staring at me. For a moment I thought he was actually going to shake off the blow, but his eyes abruptly rolled back in his head and he slowly toppled forward, then fell on his side, unconscious.

For all that it happened, it had taken less than half a minute from beginning to end. As the dust settled, Shadowslash lay unmoving in a tangle of tree limbs where I’d left him, whilst his unicorn friend was groaning, just barely starting to stir. I landed between them and surveyed the results. “The winner ‘tis me! Unless any now present object?” I asked the ritual question, and when there was no reply from either my opponents or witnesses, my victory became official. The graduating class whooped their appreciation and then surrounded me, clapping me on the back.

I accepted their adulation happily, but there was one last matter to attend to as I walked over to each fallen Guardspony in turn and ripped their rank insignia off as per the terms of our duel. “Privates Shade, Hazewing, and Trailblazer!” I called out, realizing I was already enjoying the ability to give orders—a rather ironic turn for a brash young filly who always hated taking them.

The three responded instantly. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!” they chorused, coming out of the crowd and standing at attention in front of me like they were back in basic again, a unicorn, pegasus and earth pony to match my three vanquished challengers.

“With apologies, you’re on garbage detail. Take these three back to the fort, dump them at the front gate and be sure you give the gate guards this note to let them know the terms of this challenge,” I scrawled out a quick message with a quill pen on a piece of scrap scroll paper. “And then, by my order, you are to come back here on the double… and have more drink!”

“Yes ma’am!” they shouted eagerly as one, happily loading the three vanquished Guardsponies into a wagon to haul them back to base.

Deployment

Twelve days had passed since that night in front of the Aching Drum, and I was now standing before Windshear as he gave me my first marching orders. Fort Spur was currently nearing the end of the customary two-week break between the end of the previous recruit class and start of the next, the base resetting and preparing for its next wave of recruits, due the very next day.

Customarily, some new graduates were retained to help train them as their first assignment, but as I reviewed the order scroll, I realized quickly I would not be one of them.

”Sir? What is this?“ I asked, indicating said scroll.

”’Tis exactly what it looks like, Sergeant,” Windshear told me, his voice neutral. “Orders from Captain Typhoon himself; you’re to be deployed to the Gryphon border.”

I allowed myself my cocky grin—finally, some real action! And yet… “I see. Not to seem displeased, sir, but surely a border posting is a rather harsh place for a fresh graduate? I wish to know, why is the captain assigning me to a potential combat post right out of basic?”

Windshear sat back in his chair and gave me a rather deadpan stare. “You are far from a ‘fresh graduate’, if even half of the stories flying around about you are true, Sergeant. I hear you dueled and defeated three veteran Guardsponies at once and busted their ranks all the way back down to Private?” he gave me a sardonic look, but I also caught a gleam of pride in his gaze. “Granted, Shadowslash was always a bit too arrogant and undisciplined for my tastes, but he is quite capable—at least when he’s sober. And that’s to say nothing of the other half-dozen duels and all the other hoops you’ve been made to jump through.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at that. Apparently, not just the rank-and-file Guardsponies but numerous senior members of the Guard had taken exception to my graduating basic at all, let alone with the rank of Sergeant. As a result, several more challenges had followed, just as Windshear had predicted.

Somewhat to my surprise, though, it wasn’t the pegasi that were usually the problem; they’d heard of my duel with Windshear and were very respectful… most of the time, save for a couple more thick-skulled bruisers like Shadowslash, both of whom lasted even less time against me than he. Neigh, ’twas the unicorns and earth ponies that sought my attention the most, believing that ‘a mere mare flyer’ stood no chance against their strength or sorcery. They were easily dealt with for the most part; especially the one unlucky unicorn corporal I had dropped quickly, cracking his horn and following up with a subsequent punch that knocked out half his teeth.

Granted, I might have put a little too much into my blow, but he really shouldn’t have told me I would have been much prettier dressed as a palace maid.

The informal challengers were more interesting. They were the higher-ranked members of the guard, Master Sergeants and above who didn’t challenge me directly. Rather, they assigned me difficult and occasionally demeaning tasks that they thought I would refuse or fail. Some was just ritual hazing of the newest Guardsponies, having them shine armor or clean the officer latrines… but some was decidedly not. And indeed, some tasks I did initially fail. But I had not pushed myself through the tortuous process of training under Windshear to quit under duress now. I would come back to these challenges and complete them, usually the second time around, and as a result… I was quickly earning a grudging respect from the upper ranks, if not yet full acceptance.

“At any rate…” continued Windshear, bringing me back to the present, “the Captain seems to believe that the quicker you prove yourself fully, the better, and having seen our duel and heard about all the others you’ve fought, feels you are up to the task. You are therefore being assigned to Border Outpost Epsilon, attached to the 5th Division of the Equestrian Aerial Corps. First Lieutenant Sundiver is the ranking pony; you shall be reporting to him upon arrival.”

“The Equestrian Aerial Corps?” I asked, bemused and in a slight amount of distaste. “Why am I being assigned to work for them?” I had to ask, some part of me wondering if I was being given some form of garbage duty by no less than Typhoon himself. Was this yet another attempt to get me to quit despite what the Sergeant Major had just said?

The Sergeant Major’s eyes narrowed like I’d just said something insulting. “Make no mistake, Sergeant—the Guard is the most elite branch of the Equestrian military, but that doesn’t mean we don’t dirty our hooves or consider our sister services beneath us,” he admonished me, and my ears went flat as I heard the rebuke in his voice. “’Tis why we sometimes assign Guardsponies to other branches, to lend our prowess to their efforts and give our own soldiers some seasoning as well.

“To that end, I remind you that the Aerial Corps is our most experienced service branch and sees the most action of the entire armed forces guarding Equestrian airspace. In fact… it may interest you to know that I came up through them,” he pointed out, nodding at the plaque on the wall that displayed the citation that accompanied his Wing Warrior badge, awarded only to Corps combat veterans—and precious few stallions ever earned them, leaving me wondering again what he’d done to do so.

“My apologies, sir, I meant no disrespect,” I said quickly, bowing my head even as I struggled to keep my excitement in check, realizing that the Sergeant Major was right—that if I was being seconded to the Equestrian Aerial Corps on the Gryphon frontier, I was very likely going to see some real action, and quite soon. “I accept this assignment and look forward to my task! Will that be all, Sergeant Major Windshear?” I stood to attention.

“Methinks not…” his voice went solemn and very serious. “Heed my words and heed them well, Sergeant Firefly. I know you’re eager to fight, and I know firsthoof how capable you are. But the frontier is a dangerous place and the gryphons are not to be trifled with. Believe me, I know,” his expression turned dark and brooding for a moment.

“They are skilled warriors, they will test you, and they will not fight fair—they’re predators who can smell blood and sense weakness from miles away, and you still haven’t answered the question of whether you can kill,” he reminded me, leaning forward. “If you’re out there long enough, ’tis certain the time will come when you will have to answer that question and make that choice. And I pray for your sake you make the right one.”

My excitement slackened and to my surprise, I felt a sudden pit in my stomach. He was right—I’d fought, I’d dueled, I’d drawn blood and even hospitalized a few opponents… but I’d never killed, and still deep down didn’t know if I truly could. “Yes, Sergeant Major,” I granted, my voice more subdued.

With that, he passed me a fresh scroll, sat back and pursed his hooves. “Your travel orders are here. You ship out at 1800 tomorrow, so be packed and ready. Best of luck, Guardsmare. And Firefly…?” he trailed off, his use of my real name giving me immediate pause.

“Sir?”

For just a moment, his facade cracked and I saw genuine concern in his eyes; not just that of a Sergeant for subordinate but something almost… fatherly. “For as much time as I spent training you, I don’t want to lose you. This will not be an easy assignment, even for one as skilled as you. You still have much to learn, so listen well to Sundiver’s briefings and lessons. He’s a good officer who will not lead you astray. And above all else…” He paused briefly, gathering himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “Stay safe and come back alive. Methinks we need more ponies like you, not less.”

So, methinks the toughest trainer of the guard really DOES have a softer side… I couldn’t help but think but didn’t dare say out loud, instead drawing myself to attention and saluting. “Count on it, sir.”

Author's Note

A slightly disappointing start for the story in terms of overall reader interest, but I'm not going to let it get me down. This is the first new post-release chapter, and I think it's a good one. Note there's some additions to earlier chapters in the form of opening narration--the pink text you saw at the start of this chapter has been added into chapters 2-4 as well to provide additional backstory and scene-setting, the idea being that Firefly is in some way narrating her own memoirs.

I've had other stories start slow, so I'm going to give this one all due chance to find its audience and voice. Thanks for following! And if you have any suggestions about what we might to do to boost interest, I'm all ears.

--Firesight

Interlude #1: Flying on the Blindside

At this point, I feel it necessary for there to be a brief interruption in my narrative. This chapter will instead be written by another pony; one who would, in time, join me in founding the Bolt Knights. A mare who fought not one but two undesirable stigmas, and came out triumphant.

One who blindsided tradition, much as I did… and in the end became not just a legendary flyer but a lifelong friend.

Birth of a Bolt Knight

“No… you must be mistaken! ’Tis simply impossible…”

“I’m sorry, but ’tis the truth. Your foal is healthy in every other respect; however, she is blind in her left eye.”

“But… she is a pegasus! Pegasi cannot be blind, even in one eye! They just… can’t!”

“The evidence is before you, Miss. You can see it for yourself.”

“But… can it not be fixed?”

“My sincerest apologies, madam. But, as her birth defect is innate and not due to physical or magical injury, there is nothing we can do.”

Such was the conversation between my mother and the healer who’d delivered me from her womb. I was a healthy ball of scarlet energy, possessed of a vibrant yellow mane, one blue eye, and one blind eye. The last was certainly cause for distress for my mother. And worse, her woes had just begun.

My father, the stallion who sired me, did not take the news well. He demanded I be left at an orphanage, claiming that ‘a crippled pegasus is not fit to be my foal!’ My mother refused; despite my handicap, she declared that I was of her flesh and blood, and she would never abandon me, raising me alone if she must. For her trouble, she was thrown out of his herd, nary an hour after my birth.

Such circumstances would have broken most mares. Having just delivered a foal, told their foal has a permanent disability, and then cast out of the herd for refusing to abandon said foal… ’tis a wonder my mother retained her strength. Yet retain it she did, finding work in Cloudsdale to provide for the two of us. My mother is one of the strongest mares I’ve ever known; not in body or mind, but in spirit. And for that unbreakable will she in turn imparted to me, I shall always be grateful.

Over the years, some few ponies have gathered the courage to ask me, “What was it like growing up with wings and but a single working eye?”

My answer for them was thus: “Difficult.”

As I said, I am very grateful to my mother for how she raised me. With the name Sweet Leaf, she was very kind-natured as well as strong-willed. She was a crimson-bodied mare, with a maroon mane and tail. Her cutie mark was that of a tea leaf, and after being cast out by a ’father’ whose name I’ve never thought worth knowing, she earned a living as a teamaker, eventually going on to run her own business in Cloudsdale.

Nevertheless, she smothered me for the longest time, treating me as though I were but a fragile teacup. To be fair, there was reason for this; being blind in one eye, I was exceptionally accident-prone for a foal. My lack of depth perception has certainly given me more than my fair share of injuries. Broken wings, broken legs, sprains, twists… Any injury that can happen to a pegasus has happened to me at some point in my life. The majority of such injuries were during my foalhood years, and as a consequence Mother forbade me from participating in most play and sports.

Injuries were not my only concern. Other pegasus foals teased me mercilessly, calling me all sorts of names. ’One-Eye’, ’Cyclops’, ’Winky’; I have heard them all and then some. To be fair, my own name of Blindside was less than flattering itself, but then, my mother oft complained of me ’blindsiding’ her whenever she came home. ’Twas in jest, of course, but it eventually stuck, and Mother decided to have it officially changed (I was originally named Fireball, reflecting my color scheme and seemingly boundless energy, to say nothing of my penchant for all but bouncing off the walls when she came home).

But, my disability was only part of the problem. Somehow, it became known that my mother was raising me by herself, and had been since my birth. Thus, some foals and even adults took to calling me the hated term ’mis-born’, a word which stung me worse than any insult about my eyes. To be mis-born is to be considered somehow beneath other properly reared ponies and tainted, unworthy of knowing or of future acceptance into a relationship or herd.

Rather ironic when I would one day come home a hero, and stallions would be lining up to court me.

After I came home from school one too many times in tears from all the teasing, Mother decided to buy me an eyepatch. At first I wore it just to placate her; I couldn’t imagine—and didn’t have the heart to tell her—that just hiding my problem would not make the teasing stop. Much to my bewilderment and delight, however… it actually worked! I was teased far less often, for either my upbringing or my disability, once I donned the eyepatch. When I asked why, I was told that the patch made me look more rakish and intimidating; like a young soldier who’d seen battle.

Like a soldier… I repeated to myself, and the thought stuck with me; I decided to look into it more later.

Once I learned how to fly, of course.

Mentors and Self-Mastery

Flight school was a different level of Tartarus for me. My instructors seemed to not know how to handle my disability, and I was eventually foisted off on the Remedial Flyers’ course. Mother nearly had an apoplexy when she heard this; the Remedial Flyers’ course was known to be where ’problem’ foals were sent, a dumping ground of sorts for troublemakers.

That said, I don’t recall my classmates, whom for the most part either ignored or tormented me, but I do recall my instructor: Thunderbolt, a lithe, lean stallion with an ashen coat and brilliant yellow mane, a kind and endlessly patient coach whose eyes seemed too old for his still-young body, on the flank of which sat a single jagged lightning bolt.

I remember his first words to us to this day: “Do not let this class’s reputation deceive you. I am here to get you baby birds off the ground and into the air. Whether your shortcomings are physical or temperamental in nature, I will teach you,” he said with great surety, and though it might have been an unattainable boast coming from anyone else, somehow from him, I believed it.

He did not disappoint. He worked with us one by one, identifying our problems and helping each of us get airborne, overcome not just our physical issues but our mental ones. When he came to me, he paused but was not in the least bit discouraged. “Well, now. This… will be a challenge.” I still don’t understand why he smiled when he said that.

The Remedial Flyers’ course lasted several months. During that time, he focused much of his effort on me. Not on helping me fly, as I could get off the ground on my own. No, his efforts were spent towards helping me to fly well, training my other senses to pick up the slack on my left side.

Under his tutelage, I developed a sixth sense of sorts—a heightened awareness to cover my lack of field and depth perception. I don’t know that I can explain it except to say that, over time, I gained a much better sense of airflow and sound than I gather is the pegasus norm, integrating it with my remaining vision to form a very clear picture of what was happening around me.

Regardless of how my new abilities worked, I was soon flying, in my mentor’s words, ’like an otter swims’, effortlessly navigating the airstreams and obstacle courses alike. ’Twas when I finally reached that point that I earned my Cutie Mark as well; my reward for completing the final flying course in record time was a pair of wings with an eyepatch between them, showing that I could perform great feats of flight in spite of my shortcomings, my skills now the equal of any in my training class.

After the course ended, I thanked Thunderbolt profusely for his aid. When he asked me what I planned to do with my life, I mentioned an interest in joining the Equestrian military. He looked surprised, then pleased. “Truly?” He considered me for a moment, then wrote something down on a piece of parchment. “Show that to the recruitment officer when you reach your age of maturity,” he said, rolling up the scroll before passing it to me. “’Tis a letter of recommendation for entry into the Aerial Corps, our most experienced combat arm.” He smiled, and added, “They have need of strong flyers and will be lucky to have you. ’Tis no doubt in my mind you will make many waves in the military, Blindside.”

“Thank you, sir, but why wouldst you recommend me?” I asked, touched by the gesture and favor shown me.

Thunderbolt smiled a bit sadly. “I was once part of the Corps myself, young one. An officer who lost his heart and retired into the reserves after one too many battles with the gryphons,” he explained somewhat shortly. “’Tis no longer for me, but methinks it may yet be for you. Methinks you will thrive there, though I shall warn you, ’tis not a decision for the faint of heart. You must be prepared for trials that will challenge you in ways beyond what you could imagine.” He paused, then added, “I would also recommend you broaden your knowledge of the military and related matters, by reading tomes on the subjects.”

I very nearly blanched. “Reading? What possible purpose could that serve me?”

His gaze at that remark was one of pure reproach, and I shrank back slightly. “Those wings may keep you in the air, but ’tis this that makes them function in the first place,” he admonished me, tapping my forehead as he spoke. “The smarter you are, the smarter you fly. You wouldst do well to remember that, young filly.”

I nodded slowly, and in deep chagrin. It made sense, thinking about it later; after all, there wasn’t much point in knowing how to fly without also knowing why or when. And likewise, there wasn’t point in living without purpose; a goal to fly towards and something to fight for. I thanked Thunderbolt and left, not suspecting I would see him again one day.

Or that he would one day be training me again, in matters far graver than this.

* * * * *

As the years passed, and I slowly came closer to marehood, I took my first mentor’s words to heart.

Whilst I practiced flying, I also became engrossed in reading on the Equestrian armed forces and related subject matters; my mother remarked one time that had it not been for my wings, she might have mistaken my scholarly nature for a unicorn.

I didn’t rise to the bait, however; part of my reading included the tale of the Hearth’s Warming, and how ’twas the unity of the three tribes that allowed us to break free of the Windigoes’ evil. Though I had seen very few unicorns or earth ponies in Cloudsdale, I swore then I would treat members of the other tribes with the same respect I would show another pegasus.

As time passed, I found myself with a surprising hunger for additional knowledge, as my reading eventually expanded past military matters and history. I also learned mathematics by studying from books on finances; a fact which ended up saving Mother and I from financial difficulty on a few occasions.

Mother, as I said before, had her strength in spirit, not in body or mind. That is not to say she was unintelligent or careless, but that she would sometimes attempt to live beyond her means in her zeal to provide for me. I became quick to remind her to be more prudent in such matters, and before long it seemed I was as much taking care of her as the other way around, even handling the bulk of her business affairs and doing the accounting for her teamaking shop.

Despite my duties to her and my newfound love of reading, I did not neglect the physical aspect of preparing for entering the armed forces. I flew laps around the neighborhood daily, lifted weights, and performed other exercises, honing my body as well as my mind.

My remaining foalhood fat burned away as I trained, replaced with sleek muscle. Some other pegasi, after hearing my intentions, decided to join me on my training and we sparred frequently, attending every air show and combat demonstration we could. Still, what began as a group numbering twenty dropped to but six over the years, as others decided that military life was simply not their calling.

And then came the day I reached my age of maturity.

* * * * *

Sergeant First Class Heatseeker, the recruitment officer for the Equestrian Aerial Corps in Cloudsdale, looked askance at me as he sorted my paperwork. “Well, for the most part, your application would seem to have no problems. You’re clearly quite fit, and quite learned as well, if your writing is any indication. However…” he trailed off, searching for the appropriate words, his gaze repeatedly going to my covered eye.

“However,” I broke in, my single visible eye narrowed, “the fact that I am blind in one eye is a complication, correct?”

He coughed slightly. “Er, well, yes… please understand, we have never had a pegasus with such a disability apply for the Corps before…”

“’Tis always a first time for everything, Sergeant,” I said smoothly. “And I wish this first time to belong to me. I expect no special treatment; I will succeed or fail on the same terms as any other recruit. I simply asked I be judged on those same terms as well.”

“There is some truth in that,” he admitted. “Very well, your flight and written test scores are certainly more than adequate and I shall send your application through. However, I would brace yourself for letters, several of them, asking if this is what you truly want to do.”

I smiled, and pulled out the letter Thunderbolt had written years ago. I’d kept it safe in a lockbox in my bedroom, my most prized possession awaiting for years its opportunity to be used. Sliding it across to him, I wasn’t able to keep the smile off my face as I said, “Send that along with the paperwork.”

Blinking, he broke the seal on the letter, and read it. His eyes widened. “Lieutenant Thunderbolt…” He read the signature in surprise. He then looked over the paper at me, and I saw him smile. “Well, this should do wonders for your acceptance, my dear. Thunderbolt was well-respected during his time in the Corps and his departure was a great loss to us. If he is recommending you, then I for one shall trust his judgement.”

I nodded and grinned, reaching across the desk to bump the recruiter’s offered hoof. “Thank you for your consideration, sir.”

Trials of Training

Just one month later, a recruit class of one hundred pegasi, myself included, stood in ranks at the entrance of Fort Stratus, as we were given a rather harsh dressing-down by the resident Sergeant Major, Rolling Thunder. He was older and perchance less fit than most military ponies, having a slight paunch, but his voice boomed like his namesake. He was coming down the line in reverse alphabetical order, insulting each trainee in some creative fashion or another.

When he came to me, he paused. “Trainee, what in the name of the sun and moon is that?” he asked, pointing at my head.

“Sir, ’tis an eyepatch, sir!” I replied smartly.

Stating the obvious, I quickly found, was a good way to get glared at. “I’m aware of what it is, trainee. I’m asking what is it doing on your face?”

Instead of answering properly, I simply pulled the eyepatch aside, revealing my blind eye.

There were gasps from my neighbors, who had apparently thought I was just making a fashion statement of sorts. Rolling Thunder, too, seemed notably startled, losing his gruff drill sergeant persona for just a moment. “Trainee, how long have you had this… problem?” he said somewhat tactfully.

“Sir, I was born this way, sir!” I told him without any hesitation or shame. “And ’tis no problem at all!”

He got up in my face at my declaration, shock morphing to disgust. “So you’re saying you’ve been half-blind since the day you were born. A disability that, among pegasi, could be fatal to both you and those around you—especially in combat! What in Celestia’s sweet name makes you think you can get anywhere in the Corps?!” he all but snarled in my face.

I heard a number of my fellow trainees mutter in agreement. One male voice called out, “Yeah, filly! You should get your other eye checked, because this isn’t the place for a cripple!”

That comment rose my ire. Replacing the patch, I broke my bearing to glare back at Rolling Thunder. “Sir, ’tis no hinderance or disability at all! Wouldst you like a demonstration, sir?”

He blinked, and then smirked, apparently thinking he was going to wash me out quickly. “Fair enough.” He led the class to a sparring ring, and gestured for me to get into the center. Looking out over the class, he eventually pointed to another trainee. “You! Trainee Shrike! Get in there!”

As the trainee approached, I saw he was a stallion. He was also the one who had insulted me, as I recognized his voice when he spoke up on entering the ring. “Hope you weren’t planning on making a career out of this, one-eye,” he said as he cricked his neck twice and gave me a mocking grin.

I held back my ire; one thing I’d read repeatedly was that those who lost control of their emotions gave control of the fight to their enemy. “I was, in fact, planning to do just that. And just what do you intend to do about it, Shriek?” I deliberately misstated his name.

Methinks I’d sparred with, but never fought, a stallion before—fighting a male was something mares just didn’t do—but here I found there was no hesitation at all. I would grind his nose into the dirt if that’s what it would take to make clear to all I was no cripple.

His eyes narrowed. “It’s Shrike to you, cyclops!” he snarled, as Rolling Thunder looked between us. “If I win, you turn around and walk right out those gates right now!” he pointed at the front entrance through which we had passed not an hour earlier.

“Agreed,” I told him without any worry or hesitation, a gleam in my good eye. “And if I win, your name is Shriek for the rest of training!” I added, to snickers.

Even Rolling Thunder smirked, though he was apparently as certain as the other recruits that this wasn’t going to be a contest at all. “Trainees Blindside and Shrike! This is light contact sparring only!” he admonished us both. “Flight cannot leave the ring or clear the top of the boundary poles or ’tis an automatic forfeit. There is also to be no bloodshed; the bout is won by a ten-count knockout or submission! Are these terms understood?” He looked to us both, awaiting our nods. “Then GO!” he brought his hoof down with a sharp slash.

He was right that it wasn’t a contest at all, just not in the way he thought. What happened was less a fight, and more an example of stage comedy. At first I simply ducked and wove my way around Shrike’s attacks, making a point to keep my blind eye pointed towards him the entire time, evading him with the exclusive aid of my other senses and almost otherworldly awareness I’d gained over the years.

I didn’t retaliate; I just dodged him repeatedly, driving home the futility of his efforts. With every missed and increasingly wild swing, my opponent grew more and more enraged. Off to the side, I could see Rolling Thunder shaking his head in amazement and disgust as Shrike screamed obscenities at me.

Then Shrike said something I had to respond to. “You arrogant horse! Stop dodging and start fighting!”

The entire field went silent, as I finally turned my good eye toward him, narrowing it. “Wouldst you like to repeat that, Shriek?”

Steam blew out his nose. “You heard me! You’re just an arrogant, cyclopean, stick-figure horse who has no business being here!” he bit out, stomping his hoof repeatedly in anger.

I could have said the same thing of him as a male among mares, but I didn’t, deciding I would once again answer with my actions. One moment I was standing before him and the next, I was inside his guard, striking his flight muscles and knocking his forelegs out from under him.

As he toppled forward with a pained cry, his wings numbed and now unusable, I latched onto his flailing limbs, pinning them behind his back and over his wings. He slammed face-first into the sandy ground, with me sitting on his back, holding his forelegs there—‘twas certainly a strain given he was a stallion and thus stronger, but I had leverage and plenty of practice—as years of personal training and sparring matches with my friends served me well.

This had two effects; the first was that he’d stopped screaming, too stunned by what had just happened. The second was that the rest of the ponies present, Rolling Thunder included, were staring in astonishment at how fast I’d moved and how easily I’d pinned his larger form beneath me. Finally, another awestruck trainee began counting seconds out loud.

After a full ten seconds, Rolling Thunder remembered himself. “That’s the count! Trainee Blindside wins the bout!”

With his declaration, I got up off of newly-minted Trainee Shriek, who rose unsteadily to his hooves, staring at me in shock. I gave him a smile. “Don’t worry. You aren’t the first pony to be blindsided by me, trainee Shriek.” I drove home the terms of my victory with a sweet smile. With those words, I exited the ring as a glance back showed him staring after me in frustration and at least one small measure of awe.

* * * * *

Compared to that eventful opening, the rest of basic training passed without incident for me.

My days were almost all the same, an endless but monotonous array of morning drills followed by afternoon classes and evening exercises that quickly blended into each other, occasionally interspersed with mealtimes, inspections and instructor screaming. Our routine didn’t really change until the final month, when we began to have actual field exercises and combat drills pitting us against our instructors.

Those were more interesting at least, as tactical problems gave me a chance to exercise my intellect in unexpected ways. Aerial Corps basic training lasts ten weeks, which is standard for the Equestrian military; only the Royal Guard has a longer training period.

During those ten weeks, I proved myself to be one of the best trainees in the class. Whether it was sparring or classwork, physical training or weapons drills, I excelled in all areas, even weather wielding. Rolling Thunder made it a point to drive me harder than the rest of the class; this was, as I later learned, so that he would not be thought to be taking it easy on me due to my disability.

I did not mind, and in the end, it paid off. I graduated with the rank of Corporal, one of only five in the class to do so. Over a third of the one hundred pegasi had washed out during training, leaving but five and sixty to graduate. ’Twas, according to Rolling Thunder, a larger than average washout rate, but not the worst he’d seen.

We were given leave to celebrate our graduation, and nearly all of us retired to the local watering hole outside Fort Stratus, Trots’ Pub, still attired in our new dark blue dress uniforms and white fur dye, the signature color of the Corps. ’Twas a time for our trainee class to celebrate our accomplishments, spending one last night together before we went our separate ways and assignments.

Some veterans joined as as well, to congratulate us on joining them. And ’twas whilst we were downing a mug of apple ale, one of the them mentioned something startling. “So everypony’s heard of Sergeant Major Windshear, right?”

It was a rhetorical question: not a pony who went through training at Fort Stratus remained unaware of that name. An entire training field had been renamed in honor of the now-legendary pegasus, a Defender of Harmony winner whose exploits were discussed in hushed tones—a stallion who by all accounts had nearly single-hoofedly saved a settlement and defeated an elite gryphon warrior; a stallion who had been Knighted by Celestia herself and now trained new pegasus members of the Royal Guard at Fort Spur.

“We have. What’s your point?” Private Shrike asked. To his credit, he hadn’t quit after the humiliation I dealt him, redoubling his own training efforts in response. In fact, a subsequent sparring match we’d had just before graduation had been a far closer affair; one that had ended in mutual respect.

“Well,” the veteran mare said in a conspiratorial tone, “I have a cousin who just graduated Royal Guard training. And he told me in a letter that one recruit had to have a full combat duel with Windshear in order to graduate.”

I snorted into my glass. “Methinks that trainee left Fort Spur in bandages and tears,” I mused, to the laughter of the others.

“Not so,” the veteran said with a shake of the head. “According to my cousin, she bested the Sergeant Major!”

Everypony, including the bartender, stared at her in shock. “Truly? ‘Tis not a jest?” asked a dumbfounded Shrike as we realized she was serious. “Sergeant Major Windshear was bested in single combat?”

“She?” Myself and several other graduates echoed at nearly the same time. “I was under the impression that the Royal Guard accepted only stallions at Fort Spur.”

“My cousin, Hazewing, swears to Celestia that ’tis the truth, on both counts,” the veteran said with a nod. “A female Guardspony recruit defeated Sergeant Major Windshear in single combat… and graduated with the rank of Sergeant. He says he saw it all.”

The bar fell silent for a moment. “If even half of what you say is true, I’ll drink an entire flagon of the house brew,” another veteran said. This earned a startled laugh from everypony; the house brew had the consistency of tar, and ’twas rumored that a goldfish lived in the barrel.

“Does this mystery mare Sergeant have a name, according to your cousin?” I asked her in curiosity.

She looked to the ceiling. “Methinks he said her name was… Firefly.”

Fateful Meeting

Two weeks later, I received my first marching orders, and they did surprise me. I had thought that given my bookish nature, I would either be assigned to division headquarters or go on to more specialized training in fields like logistics or intelligence. But ’twas not to be.

My performance in basic convincing my superiors I was prime combat material and a promising young NCO, I was instead named a new squad leader, to be deployed to the Equestrian frontier immediately. As a corporal, I was assigned a squad of three flights, comprised of two PFC’s and ten Privates—one of them was Private Shrike, rather ironically, but we had long settled matters between us and he accepted his assignment amicably. The only stallion of my squad, he would even become my third flight leader before long.

Our destination was Outpost Epsilon, on the Gryphon border. My surprise must have shown on my face, because Rolling Thunder hastened to assure me that ’twasn’t a dangerous posting—that they hadn’t lost a single soldier in ten years as ’twas “but a backwater base” on the furthest fringe of the frontier.

Its remote locale, I was told, made it ideal for new Corps pegasi to get some seasoning; recruit graduates often took a six-month tour of duty there before moving on to more hazardous assignments.

Despite the promise of safety, I had mixed feelings as my squad and I boarded the carriage early the next morning, wondering what awaited us out there. Certainly, the gryphons were our prime potential enemy, and much of our training at Fort Stratus was directed at them, though we certainly received instruction regarding other races like dragons or diamond dogs.

‘Twould be a lie to say some part of me wasn’t eager for action whether it was at Epsilon or some other future posting, wanting to put my training and hard-earned abilities to the ultimate test. But another part of me wondered how it would change me and was wary of the danger we would face, especially given the veterans had some truly harrowing stories to tell of gryphon raids.

To be in command of an entire squad changed things as well. I trusted my own abilities in a fight, certainly, but now I had to learn to lead other ponies properly. It was more responsibility than I’d ever known before, and I didn’t yet know if I was the equal of it.

Such thoughts weighed on me heavily during our daylong flight to the border. It would be a longer trip still, as it turned out; the unicorn naval airedale piloting the transport told us we were also stopping at Fort Spur to receive a Royal Guardspony graduate. This made me wonder idly if I would be meeting the ’Firefly’ that had been foremost among all the gossip in the armed forces as of late. It seemed unlikely, but somehow the thought stuck with me… and was quickly confirmed as she indeed did join our journey.

I’ll never forget the moment I laid eyes on her. As she climbed into the carriage, I knew her to be a mare from her slight frame and rounded snout. I could, however, see the muscle that bulged beneath her armored form, and knew she was far stronger than her frame would suggest… and the look in her eyes told me that the had a spirit and strength of will to match her powerful body.

And as our eyes met, I felt a tingle in the air, like I’d just entered the presence of fate itself. Perchance it was my heightened awareness, perchance it was just a premonition that soldiers sometimes sense.

But somehow, at that moment, I knew the mare before me was meant to make history. And somehow, I also knew that I would be there with her when she did.

Author's Note

The bulk of the credit for this chapter belongs to Leo Archon, who wrote it while I was working on a new chapter for the The Lawyer and The Unicorn. All I did was flesh it out a bit. Thanks to AJ_Aficionado and Denim_Blue for the quick turnaround on prereads and James Cyberlink for music recommendations. There will be a series of ‘interlude’ chapters in this story that describe the journey of the founding members of the Bolt Knights and other interesting characters. This is but the first.

Part 7 - Innocence Lost

I had to learn the hard way that there are two lines in life that once you cross, you can never go back. One was pleasurable, the other decidedly not. The latter happened long before the former for me, and marked a loss of innocence that only those ponies who have directly experienced it can understand.

Growing up, I knew none of this. All I did know was that I enjoyed fighting. That I liked to duel. That I loved the adrenaline rush of combat, would even later learn I thrived on it. Even as a filly I sensed I had been born for battle, that a warrior was what I was meant to be. So I eagerly devoured old military stories. I studied all the fighting manuals I could. I looked with admiration on the exploits of pegasus heroes both past and present, like Commander Hurricane or Captain Typhoon.

And yet, through it all, there was something important that escaped me. An act and duty I would one day be called upon to perform. ’Twas a day when I would finally answer the dreaded question that Windshear had put to me...

The day that naive young filly finally learned what it was to be a warrior, and the terrible price that must be paid.

The Burden of Command

I’d been in charge for less than an hour, yet already found myself near wits’ end.

Having assisted Sundiver in his duties before, I knew well how he did most of his functions. I knew that, as the outpost’s commanding officer, he was responsible for much. And yet, I still didn’t know just how much until I stepped into his place. The sheer number of tasks that needed doing—patrol assignments and drill schedules, daily reports and supply requisitions among others—daunted me, and for a moment, I wondered what Sundiver had been thinking, choosing me for his second-in-command.

Thank Celestia that Blindside was there. She had emerged from the skirmish virtually unscathed along with her entire squad; I had noted with approval she had put down at least two raiders herself during our pursuit, dodging darts and bolas with surprising ease. When she stepped into the outpost commander’s office, she found me ready to tear my own feathers out, bemoaning how much there was to do. However, she said nothing; she merely took a seat next to me and began aiding me with the reports, the schedules, and everything else.

“I may lack one working eye, but writing has never been difficult for me, nor has planning,” she told me in response to my astonished look as she sorted through the report scrolls quickly, filling out all the various forms for me with a surprisingly practiced pen. She clearly came from a very learned background and I found myself thinking that she and Wind Whistler would get along quite well, should they ever meet.

That was all on the evening immediately following the attack. Tensions were still running high, and I decided to put my fledgling leadership skills to the test. Leaving Blindside in charge of the paperwork seemed to be the best solution on that front, so I went out to take care of the troops, assembling our remaining twenty effectives in the training field and reorganizing them into two improvised squads. As we were down to nearly a quarter of our normal operating strength until promised reinforcements arrived, I announced that everypony in the base would have to pull double-shifts on patrols.

“This attack on us happened because we grew lax,” I snapped through the groan of dismay that arose from my words. “Methinks they chose us because they thought us an easy target. No longer. From now on, we wear armor at all times whilst on duty, not just out on patrol. Further, all patrols are doubled; we will have two flights out at any given time and keep visual contact between them, so that if one runs into trouble, the other can assist and alert the outpost.

“We will also no longer rely on magical detection; we will be setting up cloud perches in spite of the wind and the watchtower is to be staffed at all times,” I recited, stalking down the line. “There shall be no repeat of what happened here today! Is that quite clear?”

There was a brief pause, before one corporal snapped a salute, and barked out, “Ma’am, yes ma’am!” He was followed soon after by the rest of the outpost’s remaining garrison.

“Bully,” I nodded. With that, I set up a new patrol and training schedule with Blindside, keeping it flexible so that the veteran squads could be cycled in.

* * * * *

Early the next morning found me waiting by the outpost’s landing pad, Blindside at my side as we watched three naval transports arrive from Outpost Omega. I’d decided to welcome them personally to the outpost, as Sundiver had with Blindside’s squad and myself. As the carriages landed and the troops disembarked, I approached.

One Corps mare, the ranking member of the group to judge by her collar insignia, saw me approaching and trotted over to meet me. “Sergeant First Class Fell Flight,” she introduced herself brusquely. She stood half again as tall as I did, making her quite sizeable as pegasus mares went. She presented an intimidating spectacle, less for her size and the rough-hewn gryphon blade clipped to her uniform vest than her eyes. Though her wings were feathered and her ears normal for a pony, she had the slitted cat-pupils of a thestral.

Still, as I had with Blindside, I kept my surprise to a minimum. “Sergeant Firefly, acting commander of Outpost Epsilon,” I replied, giving her a salute. “’Tis good you’ve come, Sergeant First Class. Many of us are still convalescing in the wake of yesterday’s raid.”

She seemed to ignore me for a moment, glancing around and not returning the salute, a fact which made me narrow my eyes slightly. Her gaze fell briefly on my red Guardspony rank insignia and when she looked at me again, her green cat-eyes held a look of disdain—the same look many of my superiors in the Guard had on first meeting me. “Is this some sort of jest, Sergeant? You are the outpost’s acting commander?”

I schooled my expression into a neutral glower. “Aye. ’Twas on Lieutenant Sundiver’s orders that I take his place until he has finished healing.”

Fell Flight snorted in response. “Orders or no, I am two ranks above you. I direct that you cede command of the outpost to me, as the ranking pony.”

Blindside stepped up before I could reply. “Equestrian Aerial Corps Military Protocol, Article Seven, Section Twelve clearly states that an outpost commander who is taken off duty for the purposes of healing may name his temporary replacement as he sees fit, and nopony of less than commissioned officer rank may countermand his orders.”

I looked from her to Fell Flight, impressed that Blindside could recite that on cue. “There you have it, Sergeant. First Lieutenant Sundiver’s orders were explicit.”

If I’d hoped she would be pacified by that knowledge, the anger that flashed through her slitted eyes told me I was mistaken. “So I am to take orders from some guardsmare who has yet to see actual combat?!” she scoffed. “’Tis an insult and an outrage!”

In the crowd of veterans, I could see many murmuring their own discontent. I’d heard of this mare; ’twas said she’d endured much to join the Corps in the face of light blindness and bigotry against her thestral blood. She had earned her place and the Corps’ highest award for heroism following a daring cross-border rescue of kidnapped ponies some years earlier, and she was now said to be one of the Corps’ premiere soldiers.

Still, her exploits did not excuse her arrogance, and I kept my expression neutral. “Sergeant First Class, I highly suggest you mind your tongue. ”

“And why, pray tell, should I?” she shot back. “I have served in the Corps for six years. I have fought gryphons many a time, and lived to tell the tale with nary a scratch on my body.” She stepped closer to me, a challenge implicit in her angry gaze. “I am a highly decorated Wing Warrior with command experience, and I will not take orders from some hatchling of a guardsmare who is two ranks my junior!”

I idly reflected that this must be how Windshear felt when I’d first confronted him months earlier. And thus, I responded much as he did back then. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Sergeant Flight. Now, either you acknowledge me as your commanding officer until Lieutenant Sundiver recovers, and I forget that charming little repartee… or you continue making a foal of yourself and I put you in your richly-deserved place.” With effort, I kept the smile off my face.

Her reaction was much like mine, to my own guilty pleasure. “Put me in my place?!” she snarled, stepping close enough that we were nearly muzzle-to-muzzle, her wings flared in anger. “And what arrogance leads a waif like you to presume to place me anywhere?!”

Perchance she’d sought to intimidate me with her larger size, but such a plan was doomed to failure. I had easily bested every Guardspony pegasus recruit in grappling and even wrestled (unsuccessfully) with Stonehoof, an earth pony stallion who outweighed me nearly three to one. Even in his case, it had taken the better part of a half-minute to pin me, and he had conceded that it was only his earth pony stamina and strength that gave him his victory. As such, I was hardly intimidated by a pegasus mare who was but half his size. More to the point, she had stepped in too close to me, giving me a very easy opening.

In answer, my forehoof slammed into her barrel, quick as lightning. Her eyes bulged as the wind was forced from her lungs, but I didn’t stop there. Hooking one forehoof under her neck and the other above it, I lifted her over my head and slammed her back-first into the ground behind me. It was a move I’d learned from a book from Germaneigh, called a ‘suplex’. And Wind Whistler had been a very good sport, letting me practice it on her.

Whilst Fell Flight was stunned, both from lack of air and being slammed into the ground, I rolled over backwards to straddle her, pinning her in place as I deployed my wingblade at her throat. She looked up at me, eyes wide in shock and no small amount of fear.

I held the threatening pose for several long seconds to make sure the message was driven home, just as Windshear had done with me. “Under normal circumstances, I would have you thrown in the brig for open insubordination and conduct unbecoming,” I ground out the words, holding the blade in place a moment longer before sheathing it and stepping off of her. “However, these are not normal circumstances. I need all the aid I can muster… and an experienced second-in-command I can trust.” I offered her a hoof along with the position. She accepted, albeit reluctantly, and I pulled her back to her hooves.

“M-my apologies, commander,” she said somewhat shakily, using the title for a noncom who was put in charge of a facility like this. “Perchance I may ask how you learned to fight like that?”

I gave her a sideways glance. “The training for the Royal Guard’s armored division is brutal, Sergeant First Class. Barely a quarter of those who attempt it make it through. And Sergeant Major Windshear is a taskmaster like no other. He made sure I would not leave basic without being able to best all who challenged me.”

I had decided to drop Windshear’s name to gauge her reaction, as well as those of the other veterans. Not surprisingly, they all seemed astonished, Fell Flight most of all. “You trained under Sergeant Major Windshear?” she asked, her voice reverent. “He was my former commander. He is now legend amongst the Corps.”

“So I hear,” I replied blandly. “’Twas not easy, being yelled at and drilled by him for six months straight, and my duel with him prior to my graduation was easily the most difficult victory I’ve ever earned.”

Her eyes went wide and jaw dropped open. “Then… the rumors…”

“They are true,” Blindside spoke up, smirking. “Before she could graduate as the first guardsmare, Sergeant Firefly was required by no less than Captain Typhoon to best Sergeant Major Windshear in a full-combat aerial duel, decided only by surrender or death. That is how she earned her place and rank.”

If they were astonished before, the veterans were dumbfounded now. Fell Flight worked her jaw for a moment, before straightening up and saluting. “It will be a pleasure to aid you, ma’am!” she barked out. As one, the other veterans fell into line and saluted as well.

I allowed myself a smirk of my own. “At ease, then. Let’s get you all situated.”

* * * * *

My command of Output Epsilon lasted two weeks.

Sundiver recovered well enough to resume the bulk of his duties within days but was temporarily recalled to division headquarters ‘for urgent consultations’, over his own protests. He couldn’t tell me what that meant, except that it had something to do with the previous gryphon raid. Unicorn mares from the Equestrian Intelligence Service were still trying to figure out how they’d shut down our magical intrusion detection network and slipped a score of raiders in without us knowing, and had few answers as yet—at least, none they were willing to share.

The ponies they’d taken hostage had indeed been returned none the worse for wear, most bewildered at what had happened to them. They had no memory of their captivity past the initial ambush; the Gryphon sleeping potion they coated their pinion darts with was potent and could knock out a large stallion within seconds. After passing magical scans, most were allowed to return to active duty, though some seemed confused, having lapses in memory like they were suffering concussions.

Our unicorn medics chalking it up to a passing side effect of the sleeping potion, they convalesced at a large Equestrian Army base in the city of Maresk. Meanwhile, the rest of us prepared to mark Hearth’s Warming on the frontier with nothing more than a few decorated pine branches, some minor gifts and a somewhat meager feast.

’Twas a holiday that had never meant much to me, having little in the way of family. The orphanage did try to provide us a decent time during the season; a few toys, scarfs or scrolls given as gifts on the day in question.

Growing up, I had spent a couple Hearth’s Warmings with Wind Whistler’s family, though I’d stopped when it became clear they thought of me as little more than a ruffian and troublemaker. They had never really approved of Wind Whistler being my friend, but in the end relented after I saved her from the Diamond Dogs, even going so far as to thank me personally and pay my healer bills.

Nevertheless, I recognized its importance to other ponies, and ’twas with great reluctance that many requests for leave that came across my desk were denied, and some already scheduled were cancelled. Division headquarters was adamant, however, seeing an uptick in gryphon activity and recalling that in the past, they’d staged raids over the holidays knowing our frontier forces were weakened.

We would not be caught off guard again, the directive came down, and border towns were placed on alert as well. If they were hit, the Equestrian Army would defend them, but the Corps remained the first line of defense.

It had been my intention upon assuming command that I would continue to look the part of an Aerial Corps pegasus and not flaunt my Guardspony status. However, ’twas recommended by no less than Sundiver himself that I don my armor and switch my colors to the grey fur dye of the Guard to make my status clear, believing it would help head off any further questions of command or potential challenges. Thus I did so, making rounds and going out on patrol in full Guardspony battle armor, astonishing many Aerial Corps pegasi with my ability to fly and fight in it. I even allowed Fell Flight to try it on just so she could understand how strong I really was; she could barely get off the ground in it. That earned me additional respect with her, and the squads under her command.

“You must be part earth pony, to carry all that weight so effortlessly!” she’d exclaimed, getting her over-taxed wing muscles massaged to help them recover from the strain. In truth, I had no idea if she was right, but as I’d always been stronger than the pegasus norm, ’twas certainly a possibility. There wasn’t much interbreeding among the pony races yet, though Fell Flight’s thestral eyes were certainly proof it happened.

I could only imagine how rough her upbringing was for it, and it did gain her a strong measure of respect in my eyes. Thestrals remained in severe disfavor throughout greater Equestria for allying with Nightmare Moon nearly three centuries before, and as a result, kept mostly to themselves in the ceded province of Thestralslovakia; the capital of which was a town called Hollow Shades.

Though physically weaker than the average pegasus, they were cat-quick, possessing superlative senses and night vision. Fell Flight certainly had the latter, and I found myself glad for her presence and willingness to stand night watch; her slitted feline eyes reassuring me that we would not be caught unaware by a nighttime raid.

Three days before Hearth’s Warming, Sundiver had still not returned, sending word that senior division commanders remained heads-down trying to discern the intent of recent Gryphon activity. That was above my pay grade but I’d settled into my command quite well; there had been no further challenges and my ability to best all comers in training matches, even longtime veterans, had earned me a great deal of respect.

After making my customary final patrol round after dusk, I turned the outpost over to Fell Flight for the night and retired to my quarters. Technically, I was allowed to take Sundiver’s private quarters for the duration of my command but refused, feeling it belonged to the First Lieutenant. I’d been instead sleeping in the senior enlisted bunks with the other veteran sergeants, though there’d been a couple nights we’d stayed up late swapping stories or playing cards.

Scramble

There would be time for neither sleep nor card games that night as a series of alarm gems suddenly activated throughout the base, glowing bright red and emitting a shrill sound as they vibrated hard in their casing. They could only be set off via remote magic at division headquarters, and their use meant an attack was underway.

The outpost responded immediately, ponies spilling out of bunks to hastily don their flight gear and make for the armory, pulling on wingblade assemblies and even readying a few storm clouds if they were needed. Whilst they assembled, I immediately flew up to the tower, where Fell Flight had already received a message from division HQ via dragonfire gem.

I scanned it and learned a large force of gryphons had broken past our defenses near Outpost Delta—they’d hit a town on the other side of Delta halfway to Outpost Gamma hard to draw in the bulk of the Corps ready forces from both bases, and now a second force estimated at sixty strong was slicing through the gap that had created in our patrol screens, descending on the town of Gallop, nearly eighty miles inside Equestria.

They’d chosen their target well. Being set back so far from the border, that town, a farming community, didn’t have an Army presence, only earth pony militia, and their fighting quality was said by Sundiver to be highly suspect at best. In any event, my orders were clear—intercept immediately, protect the townponies, and… as nearly a dozen Corps pegasi had been slain in the attack on Alpha, we were to go in ‘hot’, with wingblades on!

I stared at the order for a moment, praying I’d misread it, but there was no mistake—the gryphons had returned, and this time they were out for blood. And thus, we were to respond in kind.

“Commander?” Fell Flight prompted, sensing my sudden anxiety and giving me a wary look. “Orders?”

I forced myself to focus and drive my fears away—ponies were in trouble, and Epsilon was the only uncommitted border force in this sector. Sundiver had done his best to teach me squad and platoon-level tactics, and ’twas now time to put them to the test.

“Leave two squads here to defend the base, as well as one weather team, with orders to go on continuous patrol. The rest of us will head off the Gryphons. You will lead Cirrus’ and Skyfire’s squads to a blocking position east of town and position our other two weather teams to bracket the gryphons with lightning as they approach.

“When they arrive, you’ll hold them there whilst I make a wide sweep with Blindside and Derecho’s squads and attempt to… well, blindside them,” I winced at my clumsy phrasing. “I want your eyes in front, Fell Flight. You need to spot them before they see us so we can position properly and get the first strike in. Signal via flare when you’re heavily engaged, then look for us to attack out of the moon,” I nodded upwards at the Mare in the Moon, hoping her light might shine favorably upon us that night.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” she acknowledged and started barking out orders whilst I donned my own armor, trying to ignore the growing tightness in my chest.

On paper, ’twas a good plan, one I was certain Sundiver would approve. I was sending the veteran squads and weather teams lead by my senior NCO and best pair of eyes to find and hold the gryphons whilst I slashed in with two more squads from an unexpected direction, hopefully breaking up their raid before it could hit the town proper. I cringed again at the idea that I might be required to kill, but I cringed even more at the thought of the Gallop townponies preparing Hearth’s Warming festivities in their homes with no idea of what was about to hit them. In the past the gryphons had shown little regard for civilians, and utter contempt for pony holidays.

My armor on, I donned my flight goggles and wingblades, which felt strangely heavy against my back. I did not deploy them, even though many corps pegasi already had.

Nothing said I had to before we arrived at the scene.

* * * * *

We took flight at 2335 hours, scarcely eight minutes after the alarms had sounded—I was gratified by the rapid reaction of the base, at least. The town of Gallop was seventy-five miles away, and the Gryphons had a head start on us. But whilst they had stamina, we had speed, and we closed the distance quickly; within thirty minutes the town lights were in sight. I wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved by that; on the one hoof it meant the town had not been hit yet, on the other they were completely unaware the gryphons were coming.

And how could they NOT be? My brow furrowed. Methinks if we were alerted, they would have been as well…

Something wasn’t right. Ordering my two squads to alight and rest on a nearby hill that overlooked the town, I swooped in and found the town of Gallop… not on alert, but readying for the holidays, the pubs open and earth ponies and a few unicorns bustling about despite the late hour. Here and there was some caroling, a pegasus weather team was assembling snow clouds overhead without a care in the world, whilst the town militia base had barely any activity at all, shut down in anticipation of Hearths Warming.

Normally, I would present myself at the front gate, but there was no time. I blasted right through the perimeter—the base was so lax that even the anti-intrusion enchantments had not been kept powered—and, finding the messages and mail office, I burst in through a window to find… a single earth pony sentry standing low watch, though ‘standing’ was a very generous term given he was sleeping on duty.

His uniform tunic was unbuttoned and he himself was snoring softly as he lounged back in his chair, his hind hooves propped on his desk and forehooves hanging limply to the sides, a spilled mug of cider nog having fallen from one. “Corporal!” I barked, startling him awake, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards to the floor.

“What? Who?” he focused with some difficulty on the surprising sight of a mare in silver and red Guardspony armor wearing a blue-and-white Aerial Corps wingblade harness. “Oh, wow. Nice costume, filly, but methinks Nightmare Night was two months ago…”

The narrowing of my eyes gave him pause. “I am Sergeant Firefly of the Royal Guard, you brainless twit! Who is your commanding officer?” I demanded to know. “Why are you not on alert? Did you not receive word of a gryphon attack?”

The stallion stared at me like I was crazy. “Filly, what are you talking about? What word? What attack?”

Sensing I was getting nowhere, I scanned the magical communications gems arrayed behind him. The alert gem was dark; there were no message scrolls waiting beside the dragonfire gems either. He may have been a buffoon, but he was telling the truth; they’d received no word of any intrusion or attack, and ’twas beyond belief that word had gotten to us but not to them. Impossible, even. “No attack? Then why were we…?”

A sudden chill went down my spine. In that moment, I sensed what was happening, and what the real target was. “They’re not coming here,” I whispered, a huge pit forming in my stomach. “They’re coming for…”

“Ma’am?”

Without bothering to reply, I shot back up into the sky and found Fell Flight. “’Tis a trick!” I told her frantically. “Methinks they sent false messages to our alert and dragonfire gems!”

“How?” Fell Flight asked, visibly skeptical in the moonlight, her thestral eyes glowing with its reflected light. “Their communication magic is supposed to be unbreachable. And if ’tis a trick, to what end? If they’re not coming here, then where—?” Her eyes went wide as the only possible answer hit her even before I spoke my next words.

“Don’t you see?” I made a sweeping motion with my hoof, trying to bite back the fear and panic threatening to overwhelm me. “’Twas all a ruse! They were just trying to draw the bulk of us away! They’re not raiding Gallop, they’re attacking EPSILON!”

Outpost Attack

The forty minutes that followed were the longest and most harrowing of my life.

I wanted to head back immediately, but I dared not without first getting the word out. Realizing that the dragonfire gems could not be trusted, I wrote a series of hasty notes in the militia base communications office, personally (and rather rudely) rousting the drunken commander and ordering his ponies to stand to.

Gathering up my scattered squads, I dispatched several couriers to make the long flight to Outpost Delta and Division HQ to let them know what was happening. Then, leaving a full squad behind to brace the town defenses just in case, I flew with the remaining fifty Corps pegasi of my command back towards Epsilon in platoon echelon-V formation, one squad up front and two held back and higher up on the wings.

My instinct was to rush back, and before basic I might have just charged in headlong. But Sundiver’s training and bitter lessons of lost duels had taught me tactical sense and I knew we had to approach carefully lest we fly into an ambush. As I flew at the head of the formation, I couldn’t help but wonder… would the outpost still be there? Was the raid already finished and would we arrive to find all the defenders dead? And if so, would it not be my fault? Should I not have suspected a trick or at least left more pegasi behind to defend the base?

“Recriminations can wait, Commander,” Fell Flight noticed my brooding, the veteran Sergeant First Class snapping me out of my worried thoughts. “Focus on the battle to come. We’ll be on top of the base in minutes and we need to know what we’re up against. We should reconnoiter first.”

“Aye,” I forced my fears from my head and concentrated on the task at hoof, going forward with Blindside’s squad as scouts and leaving the two veteran squads in reserve with Fell Flight. We circled west, hiding in the cloud bank and approaching low through the canyon, finally closing within a mile to find…

There was a pitched battle underway, and appeared to have been for some time, raucous gryphon cries mixing with defiant shouts from inside the base. The outpost was afire in places, the ponies defending it to the last. The weather team I’d left behind was still active as well, if the bolts of lightning were any indication, but as I got closer I realized they were not the source—in the center of the small storm was a single figure, a stave-wielding eagless surrounded by a glowing spherical shield, electricity crackling around her as she gathered up magical energy for another strike on the stubborn defenders…

A Mage Gryphon!

Whilst she wielded her arcane magic to bring lethal bolts down on the base repeatedly, setting fresh fires and slowly bringing the structure down, her compatriots tried to gain entry to the lower levels where the remaining defenders had holed up. My heart clenched as I found the ground around the base littered with the bodies of a dozen fallen ponies and at least half again as many gryphons—though badly outnumbered, the defenders had given a very good account of themselves.

Judging by the secondhoof armor and green-dyed attire they were wearing, ’twas the same raider group as before. It looked for all the world to me like another capture raid gone wrong and now, incensed at their losses, they had simply upgraded their orders from kidnap to kill. They seemed determined to wipe out the stubborn resistance, earth-gryphons pounding on doors and walls with war hammers to gain entry to the barracks and headquarters bunkers and as I watched, one struggling unicorn healer stallion was pulled out and run through, screaming his last as his life’s blood spilled free.

My guts clenched at the wanton murder of a male—far worse, a male under my command. My teeth clenched and hooves shook. Time was short, and I had no idea how long the survivors had or even how many were left. All my doubts and fears fled in the face of such barbarity, and I swore I would not fail in my duty now!

Instead of blinding me like it had so many times in the past, my rage gave me new clarity. “Corporal Blindside! Take two flights and circle around from the northwest! They won’t expect an attack from the Gryphon side! Await my red signal flare, then take down the orbiting gryphons from high to low, one flight per gryphon.

”Private Shrike!” I didn’t wait for Blindside’s acknowledgement before addressing her third flight leader, the only stallion in her squad. He looked like he was in shock; his lip trembling and wetness welling in his eyes as he had seen his fellow stallion slain. Corps stallions being generally few, they tended to form tight cliques and know each other well; in hindsight it shouldn’t have surprised me that they were friends.

And that he would react no differently than I would to witnessing a friend’s death at the paws of a hated foe.

When he didn’t immediately respond, tears now streaming down his cheeks as he stared at the scene of carnage below, I grabbed his uniform collar and shook him hard, snapping him out of it. “Focus! We fight now, mourn later! Now listen carefully. Report back to Fell Flight. Tell her to converge her squads from two directions, wait for my red signal flare and then attack at once!

“Tell her we do not go in piecemeal, we strike en masse and wipe these mass-murdering chickenhawks out!” I resorted to the ugly slur for the first time. “Do you understand? Repeat what I just said!” I ordered, forcing him to look at me, worried about his state of mind.

Somewhat to my surprise, he pulled himself together with a single, shuddering breath and did so to my satisfaction. “F-Fell Flight… two directions… w-wait for flare… then kill them…” he paraphrased in clipped tones, all but hissing out the last two words between gritted teeth. As he spoke them, his eyes squeezed tightly shut for a moment before opening again, a dangerous glint in them that wasn’t there before.

The sudden change was a bit surprising for me, but a welcome one compared to how he had been but moments earlier; one that told me he was at least determined to do his duty and whatever was necessary to avenge his friend. “And you ma’am? What will you do? When will you give the signal?” Shrike all but demanded to know, a new note in his suddenly-clear voice I could only describe as both impatient and strangely eager as his gaze fixed on the gryphon who had killed the healer.

I wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, but I couldn’t worry about it then—Celestia knew there was more than enough going through mine at that moment as well. Another magical lightning strike streaked down to emphasize my next words, my voice ice cold and jaw set.

“When I take out the mage.”

* * * * *

As long as the flight back had felt, the next five minutes were even worse.

I had to stay in a hover at half a mile’s distance waiting for my instructions to be delivered and the rest of the Corps pegasi to position themselves, knowing if I struck or signaled too soon, the element of surprise would be lost, leaving us facing a far more difficult fight. Each moment of waiting was interminable to me, both because I knew that every second that passed was one in which another outpost defender could die…

And that each moment brought me closer to a single fateful action I was dreading.

When I judged enough time had passed I began moving closer. My wingblades were still not deployed, as I told myself their glint in the moonlight might give me away—I knew full well ’twas a feeble excuse, but some part of me still wished to put the moment off as long as I could. I approached her from an oblique angle to make sure I wasn’t upwind, gliding down from above as to not make a sound. Being predators, gryphons had superb hearing and sense of smell, after all.

Finally, I had closed within fifty yards and pulled one of my red ruby command gems. Though now compromised as a communication device, they had a little-known secondary use in combat; one Sundiver had taught me—they could interfere with spellcasting by disrupting magical auras when brought into contact with them. And I would need it to penetrate her magical shield, which illuminated weakly in the moonlight as she began gathering up a fresh electrical charge.

When I heard the crackling sound, I tucked my wings and dove hard on her, holding the gem held in one outstretched hoof. I hit the shield with the gem first, causing the latter to shatter and the former to shimmer and warp. The disruption weakened the magical barrier enough for me to punch right through it, though the passage was still quite painful, feeling like a thousand heated needles raking my flesh.

It robbed me of most of my momentum but not enough to keep me from tackling her, the sudden disruption to her aura causing the stave to crack. She squawked in pain from the magical feedback as one of her lightning strikes was partially turned back on her and the electricity caused my fur to stand on end briefly as well, dancing over my metal plates.

But despite the pain, I did not let go. I dared not, fighting her for the stave, which I knew was the source of her power and if I gave her a moment to gather her senses, she would turn it fully on me. Pegasi were weather-resistant, and I was doubly so for reasons methinks are best saved for later, but I didn’t know if that extended to being able to take a point-blank lightning bolt and didn’t want to find out.

We tumbled from the sky together, striking at each other with hooves and talons as we fell. She snapped with her beak at me as well, but I finally put a stop to that by using all my strength to drive her own stave back against her forehead, snapping it in two and dazing her long enough for me to knock her out with a quick uppercut to the chin, letting her fall along with the now-useless pieces of her splintered staff to the cliff edge below.

To my relief and amazement, I’d taken her out without killing her, and now… I raised a hoof and fired my signal flare, which burst like red fireworks over the scene. The gryphons on the ground stopped and turned back up to stare at me in the sudden light, witnessing their mage falling broken to the ground…

And then all Tartarus broke lose.

* * * * *

The two highest-orbiting gryphons, who had paused in their flight to turn their attention on me, suddenly gave gurgling shrieks as their wings and throats were cut. At the same moment, Fell Flight’s two veteran squads shot in from different angles to either side of the outpost, overwhelming the surprised raiders and quickly killing nearly half a dozen.

Belatedly realizing they’d tarried too long and reinforcements had arrived, the remaining gryphons on the ground scrambled frantically for flight whilst the ones already airborne leveled their crossbows and turned to face their attackers, now deprived of their magical ally.

But Blindside’s squad cut them down before they could fire and their remaining comrades fared little better. I saw Fell Flight dodge a war hammer swing and then coldly and without hesitation slit the throat of an earth gryphon with a single well-practiced slash, shrugging off the blood that spattered all over her face and immediately turning to hunt for new raiders. Even Shrike got into the act, disobeying a direct order from Fell Flight to stay out of the fight (I later learned) in order to stalk and slay the gryphon he had seen murder his friend.

It all happened so fast that I had little else to do after taking out the mage but watch in some horror as my enraged outpost soldiers took bloody vengeance for the attack and their slain comrades. The mares in particular hunted down their assailants with a ferocity that would have given the gryphons themselves pause, and ‘twas no surprise that they did so—even without the loss of their friends, they had seen dead stallions, and that was all the motivation they needed.

Finally understanding their predicament, the surviving gryphons fled in every direction but had nowhere to run or fly. Several dove for the canyon floor, hoping to lose their pursuers in the narrow river ravine, but against pegasus speed and numbers, they weren’t going anywhere and given but another few seconds, all would be slain.

Sensing the situation getting out of hoof, I intervened. “ENOUGH!” I shouted into my blue command gem, its magic amplifying my voice enough to echo across the chasm, getting the attention of all. “Methinks there’s been enough blood spilled here this night! We take the remainder prisoner, understood?” I glared at each pegasus in turn.

To my great relief, they reluctantly relented, rounding up the remaining eight raiders. I didn’t know how, but somehow I’d made it through my first real battle without crossing the killing line myself, my blades still sheathed on my back. But for how much longer…? I couldn’t help but wonder as I continued to bark orders, trying to cover up my frightened thoughts at all I’d witnessed… and the carnage I’d helped cause.

I got my answer all too quickly as at that moment, a gryphon eagless burst from cover nearly forty yards away. Though wounded from a wingblade slash to her side she could still wield her scimitar, and she’d gotten the drop on a visibly enraged Blindside, who had disarmed and collared a badly frightened young tiercel who looked barely past puberty, angrily and very ungently dragging him along.

As the gryphon female closed the distance and raised her blood-stained blade for a strike, Blindside detecting her presence a fraction of a second too late, I realized three things—that the eagless was the leader from the previous raid, that there was no way a grounded Blindside could stop or dodge her attack…

And that if I did not act immediately, not just another pony but a friend would fall.

Time slowed down again as I shot forward with all my speed and strength. My wingblades deployed, locking into position just as I arrived on target. The enchanted metal sliced through both sinew and steel as I saw everything in vivid detail, including the upper half of her sword spinning backwards as my strike broke it in two…

And her head as it was separated from her body, falling from her shoulders and tumbling gruesomely to the ground below.

Author's Note

There comes a moment in a soldier’s life where they must make the choice to take one. Respect them for it, especially those who can keep their basic humanity afterwards. This is Firefly’s moment, and though the aftermath is yet to be explored, she will never be the same for it. Pray for our heroine, and all those who fight on our behalf, who take that burden on themselves so the rest of us may sleep soundly and never know the horrors of war.

Thanks to AJ_Aficionado and SilentWoodFire for the prereads, and Leo Archon for writing a superb opening section with Fell Flight. Between the two of us, we cranked this out this chapter quickly, keeping all three of my stories rolling along.

Part 8 - Face to Face

They say one never forgets their first time in combat, and they are correct.

Mine remains etched in my mind even after all this time, and ’tis not a happy memory for me. ’Twas my trial by fire and even though I passed the test, the price I paid and wound to my heart would long linger. Coming to terms with it was not easy or instant, but in the end another challenge for me to meet.

But ’twas not one I could overcome alone, and ’twould require the aid of my friends, both old and new, to do. And the first step in that process would be to face my fears and enemy directly. To see them as they truly were.

Pyrrhic Victory

I awoke slowly to a series of concerned but strangely familiar voices. “Sergeant! You’re awake!” Sundiver’s relieved voice broke through the din.

My eyes fluttered, the light in the room painful. I realized quickly I was lying on a cot in the outpost infirmary with my armor removed. But why was Sundiver here? And why was there sunlight streaming through the ceiling? “Sir… what…?” I started to ask as he helped me sit up, only to groan as my memories returned and I immediately wished they hadn’t. I remembered the battle, the threat to Blindside, how I swooped in, my wingblades deployed…

Bile rose in my throat as the last clear memory I had before the blackness swallowed me registered. As I began to retch, I found a bucket placed in my hooves, and promptly emptied the meager contents of my stomach into it.

It didn’t help. I had killed, and nothing would ever change that fact. “No…” I buried my head in my hooves, trying to hide my tears before the two dozen Corps ponies in the room. “No…”

“You fainted after the battle,” Sundiver told me, a worried look on his face that mirrored the other Corps pegasi around him. “And you’ve been out for nearly twelve hours now.”

‘Twasn’t long enough as far as I was concerned. At that moment I wished nothing more than to retreat back into that slumber, let the inky blackness take me forever and spare me the agony of my own actions and failures.

“Ma’am, please…” Fell Flight offered, stunned to see me in such a state. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. ’Twas your first true battle, and you both fought and led us well,” she offered, to immediate agreement of the other ponies around her. “Be proud.”

“You saved me, Firefly,” Blindside spoke up next, tears in her eyes as she watched me grieve. “You saved the base. You saved us all.”

At her words, I cried openly. I couldn’t help it. The battle was won, my friend was safe, and the outpost still standing. And yet, at that moment, none of it mattered to me. All I could think of were the lives lost… and the life I’d taken. Did she have a family? Did I just orphan her cubs? Was she somehow put up to the attack? Could I have taken her out without killing her? Why couldn’t I have just knocked her out the same way I did the mage…?

“Everypony clear the room!” Sundiver ordered the Corps pegasi crowded around me. “She needs space. I will speak with her alone.”

Reluctantly, they did and I found myself alone with him as he closed the door behind them—a slightly useless gesture given the gaping holes in the wall and ceiling, blood stains and a few feathers, both pony and gryphon, on the floor around me. There were no other patients present, as I was later told the actual wounded had already been evacuated to civilian healers in nearby towns—a necessity given that the infirmary was all but destroyed and most of our healer team was slain.

Turning back to me, Sundiver came over to the bed and, to my surprise, gently took me into an embrace. He then held me as a parent would a crying foal, letting me sob into his shoulder. “How m-many dead…?” I had to know, as much as I didn’t want to.

He hesitated, but only briefly. “Sixteen,” he admitted, making my eyes squeeze tightly shut in pain—not only had I killed, I had lost nearly a sixth of my command. A command Sundiver had entrusted me, now ended in bloody failure with his base all but reduced to rubble. How could I ever wear my armor again? “And that many more wounded. But you are not to blame yourself for them, Firefly. Nopony could have foreseen this. If I had gotten that message, methinks I would have reacted no differently than you.”

“I should have known,” I told him, finally voicing the thoughts that had been going through my head over and over on the flight back to the base. “I should have suspected a ruse! I should have left more forces here! I should have rushed back immediately and not wasted time with messages…” I broke down crying again, unable to go on.

“And run into an ambush with your flyers exhausted and command having no idea what was happening?” Sundiver asked gently but pointedly. “To do any of that would have been folly. You had to take enough force to Gallop to defeat sixty raiders. You had no inkling ’twas a ruse and neither did anypony else. They’ve never subverted our communication crystals before, and command ’tis now in a panic trying to figure out how.”

I knew he was right on all counts, but I still couldn’t accept it. For there had to have been something I could do! Somehow, it just had to all be my fault, and I said as much again.

“Sergeant, stop!” he ordered me, placing his hooves on my shoulders and giving me a sharp shake, forcing me to face him. “There was nothing else you could have done. I’ve already received after-action reports from Fell Flight and Blindside. They had nothing but praise for you. You realized the ruse quickly and took exactly the steps you should; devising a devastating counterattack that netted all the raiders and even took down an enemy mage,” he recited, cold comfort though it all was.

“Sixteen are dead, but twenty more are alive thanks to you. Your quick thinking and rapid reaction took out an entire raider group and saved the base, giving the gryphons a bloody beak that will make them think twice about ever trying this again.

“They expected an easy victory and instead found a hornet’s nest thanks to the altered patrol routines and extra readiness drills you implemented. That they were able to hold out as long as they did is therefore also thanks to you.”

I didn’t want to think about the fact that if I hadn’t done all that, then perchance they would simply have been captured and still be alive, returned unharmed after paying ransom. And maybe then I would not have had to…

I stifled another sob. “I’m sorry…” I told him as he pulled me close again and I found myself clutching him like a foal would her father. “Sir, please t-tell me… does killing ever get easier? Does the blood on my hooves ever wash away?” I sniffled, imagining I could see it all but dripping off them.

“No.” He didn’t mince words even as he squeezed my hoof. “Nor should it. Those who enjoy killing have no place in the military, Sergeant, let alone pony society in general. I know it seems impossible now, but I promise you shall come to terms with it in time, as we all have. However…” he hesitated, then decided his next words had to be spoken. “However, ’tis certain you will never be the same, either in mind or in spirit.

“’Tis a lesson we have all had to learn—that innocence lost cannot be regained,” he said, a note of sorrow in his voice. “’Tis no glory in what we do, Sergeant. But ’tis also no less necessary for it. Good ponies sleep soundly because we stand ready to protect them. Because we take the burden of the warrior on ourselves to keep them safe and spare them the horrors of war.”

I closed my eyes tightly as the truth of his words registered. ’Twas hard to hear such words, but that made them no less necessary. “Th-thank you for giving it to me straight, sir,” I acknowledged, still staring up at the ceiling, struggling to blink back my tears. “Forgive me, but… methinks I need to be alone right now.”

“Of course,” he said gently, giving my hoof a parting squeeze. “And Sergeant…?”

“S-sir?”

“I’m going to arrange some immediate leave for you to clear your head. I’ll send the request up to division and we’ll see if we can get you home in time for Hearth’s Warming.”

I teared up again, thinking ’twas hardly fair with all the Corps ponies who would not be so privileged. To say nothing of those who would not be returning at all. “But sir…”

“No buts,” He told me. “Methinks you’ve more than earned it and should anypony complain, I’ll simply point out how many more would be dead were it not for you. So stay with your loved ones, and whilst you’re there, I want you to remember that they are who we fight for. Remember that by being out here we protect just not princess and province, but our friends and family.”

I sniffled again, not wanting to tell him I had no family and but one true friend. And yet, I knew he was right, and that I needed that one true friend. Wind Whistler… I found myself suddenly pining for, seeking her smile, her friendship and embrace. But could even she help me now?

How could she understand what it was to take a life or watch your comrades die?

“But before you go…” Sundiver broke back into my thoughts. “The gryphons have contacted us. They are requesting parley and the return of their prisoners at sunup in two days’ time. Their message and offered terms seem unusually… respectful. ’Tis not an order, but… we do need some Guardsponies for the meeting and it may do you some good to see the true face of the gryphons. So methinks you should come.”

I didn’t know why Guardsponies were a requirement, and at that moment could not have cared less. “I… I shall think about it,” I promised him, staring up at the hole in the ceiling as he departed, wondering if I would ever know peace or sleep soundly again.

The darkness of the following night found me in a transport craft along with Sundiver and a single squad.

Fell Flight was left behind to command the base and clean up the remains of the battle, and in hindsight, perchance that was why I accepted Sundiver’s offer. Everywhere I looked at Epsilon was a reminder of what had happened and coming to terms with ’twould take some time and distance. In the end ’twas a relief to leave.

You would think that meeting the gryphons face to face would not help matters, but some part of me couldn’t help but feel that Sundiver was right and I needed to see them up close… know the true face of my enemy. So though I had neither eaten nor slept since awakening in the infirmary, I joined Sundiver on the early evening flight to Outpost Gamma, located nearly three hundred miles away, dead center of the border.

Though called an outpost, Gamma was in fact our largest border base. Nearly five times the size of Epsilon, it housed a full Aerial Corps brigade and the bulk of the Corps ready forces on the gryphon frontier, overlooking the widest part of the border canyon and in range to interdict most major ground and air invasion routes. It even boasted a regiment-sized Equestrian Army contingent for additional ground defense, consisting of earth ponies and unicorns. Upon seeing them, I reflected bitterly that we could have used them at Epsilon to counter the mage and earth gryphons.

As we assembled for the meeting before dawn that morning, it became clear that all branches of the Equestrian military were represented. Aside from three Aerial Corps pegasus squads, there was also an army platoon from the outpost contingent. It consisted of three heavily armored earth pony squads, all mares with swords slung on their sides paired with small but powerful crossbows affixed to their forehooves, and one squad of unicorn mares, who wore lighter chain mail armor beneath enchanted hoods and cloaks that defended against magical attacks.

Their horns were their weapons, as they could wield a wide variety of offensive and defensive magic, though they were also armed with longbows and a quiver full of arrows strapped to their backs. The arrows themselves were enchanted with various spells that had been placed on them, indicated by the color of their crystal tips—exploding, guiding, armor-piercing, and magic-neutralizing amongst others.

There were even three other Guardsponies present, and I was surprised to recognize one—Corporal Hexblade, who had apparently been attached to the Gamma army regiment. We weren’t able to exchange anything but a brief nod as we took our positions, but ’twas good to see a familiar face. I hoped for the chance to speak with him before we left.

Rounding out the contingent were a score of naval pegasus and unicorn troops they’d somehow scraped up, and even some local militia, though I couldn’t imagine the gryphons would be any more impressed with them than I was. Thankfully, they were put in the back, where they belonged.

With the horizon beginning to lighten as Celestia raised the sun, we flew out to a large mesa in the middle of the canyon and assembled in a hybrid formation on the Equestrian side of it, the earth ponies and unicorns carried in two naval transports along with the captured raiders. The mesa was considered neutral ground, I was told, and that made it an ideal meeting place, one that had been used repeatedly for parleys and prisoner exchanges in the past.

Despite that, ’twas a very nervous time for me—I’d received some very odd instructions on how to behave in predawn briefings, ones I thought were certain to make conflict more likely, not less. “Surely they would feel threatened by this show of force?” I asked Sundiver as we landed and took our place front and center at the head of the hundred-strong mixed-service formation.

“Quite the opposite,” he told me as the Army troops formed up behind us, earth ponies in the center and the unicorn squad split with half on both wings. “A show of force ’tis a show of respect to them. In truth, they’d be insulted if we didn’t make one, but methinks the reverse holds true as well—if they come with a large force for a simple parley, they’re showing respect and deference to us,” he whispered.

Somehow, that didn’t make me feel much better.

Parley

Dawn broke over the canyon and a series of black dots appeared in the distant air, coming from the direction of a barely-visible gryphon base located directly opposite Gamma on the other side of the fifteen mile-wide gorge. Within a minute they had resolved into a large force of gryphons flying right at us and my heart leapt into my stomach to see them.

As I stood rigidly at the head of our now-grounded formation, every instinct I had was screaming at me to get airborne, certain that by staying grounded I was leaving myself an easy target. But I had my orders, and Sundiver had reassured me repeatedly that they would not attack—“They’ll preen and posture, but ’tis only a game with them, Sergeant. We just have to play it. And methinks if they did attack us here, they’d pay a heavy price and they know it.”

As they began to land in front of us, I could see these weren’t a motley group of raiders. These were real soldiers. Warriors. Just by their look and manner I could see they were far tougher and more disciplined than any raider group, and as they landed in sequence, I found myself categorizing their troops.

The first gryphons to arrive landed furthest back, forming up quickly into two ranks. They were a mixture of tiercels and eaglesses, consisting of both earth and sky gryphons. By the light blue shoulder pauldrons and the swords and spears they were armed with, I recognized them from Sundiver’s training briefings as the Empire’s Auxiliary Guards. ‘Guards’ meant something entirely different for them than it did for us—they were reservists used for internal security, not front-line troops, though they certainly appeared to be of far better quality than the average earth pony militia, judging by their build and bearing. The generally better-trained pegasus militia of Cloudsdale might have been a match for them, though.

Next to arrive were three dozen heavily armed ‘Talons’, their regular army forces, taking position in front of the guards. Generally larger or sleeker, they were dressed in immaculate silver armor, though I recalled from my briefings that how much armor an individual soldier was given tended to denote status—lower-ranked members got less armor but earned more as they advanced in position; they’d start with light leather pauldrons (which they skinned certain game animals to get!) that protected little but could eventually be given steel foreleg braces and heavy metal chestplates as they rose through the ranks. Like the Guard, they were armed mostly with spears and the ubiquitous gryphon scimitars; unlike the Guard, they tended to be used offensively.

Talons were well-trained troops that could move rapidly by ground or air and thus posed a dual threat, able to quickly turn defenses and strike from unexpected directions. Sundiver had told me after the first failed raid that had we been hit with Talons instead of undisciplined raiders, we’d have all been killed or captured, and as I studied them, I realized he was only too right.

Arriving third to flank them were an equal number of the more specialized gold-armored Knights. On the ground were the heavily armed and armored Fortis Knights. They were powerful earth gryphons wielding heavy weapons like war hammers and large shields, though their preferred arms appeared to be spears or enormous double-bladed battle axes. Their strength nearly the equal of earth pony Guardsponies, they fought in phalanx formations and could use their interlocking shields to form a nearly impregnable defense, but were also shock troops on the attack, able to smash and sweep aside defenses for exploitation by the Talons.

Then there were the three Magus Knights hovering above the formation, dressed in violet-tinted armor and holding their staffs at the ready, electricity and fire crackling around them menacingly. Their display caused the Army unicorns on our side of the mesa to lower their heads to present their horns in defense, half projecting shields and the other half drawing their bows while notching an enchanted arrow, taking aim. I’d been warned this would happen—they were just testing our nerve—but my heart still raced at the sight of it, half expecting a thunderous strike of lightning to come crashing down into our ranks and a volley of arrows and magical beams to counter.

Magus Knights were mage gryphons like the one I’d taken out at Epsilon; gryphons born with an unusual affinity for magic. They were able to wield it using a special staff or stave to focus their power, not unlike a unicorn horn. The offensive magic they used included elemental attacks like wind, fire or lightning; arcane spells which were no longer taught in Equestria after the War of the Celestial Sisters by royal decree. One mage gryphon was hard enough to deal with, but without unicorn support, two or more could just about win a battle by themselves.

The magical standoff lasted just a few seconds, but it felt like a small eternity until both sides abruptly withdrew their threatened spells and retreated into ranks. Then came the next phase of the game as two dozen Wind Knights appeared above the ground formation, crossbows leveled as the hovering Aerial Corps pegasi around us deployed their wingblades in response, ready to engage at the first launched arrow.

Well-trained and well-armed sky gryphons wielding crossbows for a ranged attack and armed with steel claws they wore over their talons for close-in work, Wind Knights were the biggest gryphon threat to pegasus dominance of the skies, possessing superior stamina and strength as a counter to pegasus speed. Their ability to strike from distance with their crossbows also gave them a definite advantage at times, though they were of limited use against pegasi given our agility and elusiveness. Wind Knights were used for everything from long-range reconnaissance to launching lightning raids deep into enemy territory, and could hit very fast and hard.

Then the final four gryphons arrived, swooping in to take their place at the front of the formation, causing my eyes to widen and my thudding heart to momentarily stop. Two earth gryphons and two sky; two tiercels and two eaglesses, dyed head-to-toe black except for the crimson stripes on their flanks, and the last third of their blackened wing feathers painted blood-red along with their front talons and tail tassel. Instead of metal, their armor was made of polished and enchanted onyx, black and gleaming in the morning sun; their hooded eyes looking at us coldly from under their equally dark and gleaming helmets.

With two crossed scimitars on their back along with a red-striped crossbow and quiver for the sky gryphons and a pair of massive battle axes for the earth gryphons, they looked like demons dredged up from Tartarus itself, and if their reputation was any guide, they fought like them too; their very names striking fear into the hearts of those who faced them. I’d read about them before, but to now see them up close and personal was to sense that all the stories about them were true.

They were the Red Talons, the strongest and most dangerous soldiers in the entire Gryphon Empire, single warriors capable of taking out entire platoons of ponies single-hoofedly. They were said to number but a hundred, and entry into their ranks was only gained by an incredible combat feat or defeating an existing member in a duel to the death.

The hundred-strong gryphon force now fully assembled and facing us, their uniformed commander stepped forward, the Red Talons flanking him two to a side as he moved up. Seeing that, Captain Sirocco, the mare commander of the Aerial Corps’ fifth division followed suit, motioning us forward.

“Go with her, Sergeant,” Sundiver prompted, speaking softly. “As the gryphons are meeting us with their best, ’twould be an insult if we did not do the same.” Despite my misgivings, I obeyed and trotted forward along with the other three Guardsponies, our formation roughly reflecting their own.

We met in the middle, with four Guardsponies facing the four Red Talons, who drew their weapons and immediately tried to stare us down. Hexblade and the other veteran earth pony Guardspony met them with snorts and lowered heads, the former presenting and igniting his horn and the latter bringing his hoof down hard enough to shake the ground around us, whilst I and the other pegasus Guardspony deployed our wingblades as we’d been told to do, crouching menacingly like we were ready to attack.

Methinks I couldn’t fathom how this was taken as a show of respect or would end well, but after a few tense moments the gryphon commander nodded in satisfaction and signaled his warriors to sheath their weapons and step back, at which point Sirocco did the same to us.

It was with no little relief I retracted my blades. I really wasn’t in any shape to fight then, still trying to come to terms with what happened at Epsilon. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least slightly intimidated by the menacing black-and-red warriors before me. And Windshear had actually beaten one of them?

“Greetings, Captain Sirocco,” the gryphon commander, an earth gryphon tiercel dressed in a silver Talon uniform with a gleaming command chain around his neck, said in surprisingly good Equestrian, making a gryphon gesture of salute by hitting his armored left shoulder with his right fist.

“Greetings, Legate Nero,” Sirocco replied evenly, nodding slightly, returning the gesture with a standard pony salute, addressing his counterpart by rank. I remembered from another briefing that Legate was roughly the equivalent of an Aerial Corps Captain, a rank at which you could command entire divisions, or legions as the gryphons called them.

“I see this day finds you well. Regretfully, I cannot say the same for the ponies your hired thugs slaughtered.” The commanding mare of the Aerial Corps’ fifth division was clearly not one for small talk or beating around the cloud. From what I’d heard she was a minor legend in her own right, a sand-colored mare with a dust devil cutie mark who had a service record and citation list nearly as long as Windshear’s. “We want answers, or by order of the Princess herself, there will be retaliation. And methinks you will not like the form it takes.”

To my surprise, the gryphon raised his head slightly to present his neck—a gesture I was later told indicated deference. “And methinks you have every right to be angry. However, we deny having anything to do with that attack,” he told us perfunctorily. “Nevertheless, we agree what happened ’twas… regrettable. And we wish to avoid any further incidents.”

“Regrettable?” I couldn’t hold back despite Sundiver’s warning look, my temper flaring for the first time since basic. “You threatened a raid on civilians, struck my base, killed sixteen ponies four days before our holiest holiday, and all you have to say is ’twas regrettable?” I stepped forward and stomped my hoof, causing the Red Talons to shift towards me, ready to defend their leader.

Nero didn’t immediately acknowledge my outburst, instead studying me curiously. “A Guardsmare?” he noted in some surprise. “How interesting.”

“Sergeant Firefly was the commander of that base,” Sirocco pinned me with a stare, an icy glare that ordered me in no uncertain terms to step back and stay silent. “And from all reports, she is also the only reason ’tis still standing now. She, too, has every right to be angry. And you should be grateful she spared the lives of some of your mercenaries. ’Twas far more than I would have allowed.”

“I see… so, ’twas she who defeated the mage,” he noted dispassionately, studying me again. “An impressive feat. One almost worthy of our Talaeus here,” he mused, glancing at the Red Talons flanking him, one breaking his bearing to give the Legate an insulted look.

“And methinks that brings up another issue,” Sirocco moved on. “Perchance you would explain exactly why a mage was aiding your raiders? All gryphon mages are supposed to be in military service. And thus, her presence could be interpreted as an Empire-sanctioned attack.”

For the first time, there was a look of anger in the Legate’s eyes. “Be assured ’twas not. Our investigation is incomplete, but ’twould seem that Cadet Chilea sought some profit on the side. She was hired by the group whilst out on leave, and offered part of a prospective ransom would she take part in the raid,” he announced darkly. “Do you have her?”

Sirocco nodded behind her, and the captured mage, now struggling, was brought up by two Army soldiers. To my surprise, she looked far from being happy at being returned alive to her homeland; she bore a look of stark terror and was desperately pulling at her chains. Watching her, I had no doubt if given the chance, she’d slip her restraints and bolt with all her speed back towards Equestria.

Thrown at his paws, Nero looked at her in barely disguised contempt as she trembled and desperately bared her neck at him in a gesture I recognized even then as one of sheer supplication. He spoke in his own language, then repeated his remarks in Equestrian. “So, Cadet Chilea, methinks you are not just a mercenary, but a coward…” He stalked around her, then spoke in his own language again in a tone that suggested he was passing sentence on her.

A suggestion that was only confirmed as he switched back to Equestrian, repeating his words once more. “There is no place in the Imperial military for those who serve themselves first and not the Empire. As you were already charged with desertion after failing to return from leave, you were tried in absentia and found guilty. And your sentence will now be carried out.” With that, he nodded at the black-dyed warriors, who pinned the mage’s crying form down as a Red Talon eagless drew one of her scimitars and approached her. I did not know the gryphon language of Aeric, but her pleas for her life came through loud and clear all the same…

Only to be ignored as she was beheaded with a single powerful slash that caused me to flinch. The sight of gouting blood and her head rolling on the ground gave me flashbacks to my own act of decapitation two days earlier. ’Twas all I could do to maintain my bearing, wondering what in all the pits of Tartarus I’d been thinking by coming here.

“In the attack on your outpost, an error in judgment was made. That error… has been corrected,” he announced, pinning me with a stare. To my shame, I was shaken enough I was forced to look away, making him and the Red Talons smirk.

“And the others?” Sirocco was utterly unmoved despite the gruesome sight before her. “What of the raiders we captured? Perchance you’ll just dispose of them too?” she said in a tone that suggested she would not mind in the least if they did.

She might not, but I did. I spared their lives, and despite all they had done I did not want to see that mercy rescinded.

“No,” he said, to my relief. “They are not soldiers, so they are not subject to military justice. Instead, they will be face a civilian tribunal, which will doubtless sentence them to life at hard labor for their innumerable crimes. They shall be thrown into the mines, and ’tis certain they will never again see the light of day. You have my word on that,” he bared his throat to his pony counterpart again. “Is this acceptable, Captain Sirocco?”

She regarded him for a moment. “Only if there is a guarantee there will be no further attacks in the future.”

In response, he brought out a rather ornate scroll from his gold uniform jacket. “I offer you a formal apology, signed by the Empress herself,” he told her, passing it to her with his talons. “It also contains a royal promise that we will respect the border and punish those who may breach it.”

Sirocco looked almost impressed as she unrolled and scanned the document, sitting back so she could hold it in both hooves. “Is that all?”

“Not quite,” Nero said, then pulled a rather distinct gem from his pouch and simply tossed it on the ground in front of her. The gem glowed for a moment and suddenly a large object appeared in its place—it was a storage gem, I realized, and within it was a large chest. It was then opened to reveal separate compartments overflowing with gems, rocks, and coins.

“These are rare gems and magical minerals, useful for your nation. We have also included monetary compensation for the families of those slain,” he told her. “What happened should not have happened. And though we deny involvement, you may be assured it will not again.”

Sirocco looked surprised, then suspicious. “’Tis uncommonly generous of you.”

“You may also be assured there will be no further border incursions for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you wouldst breach that trust yourselves,” he smiled unpleasantly, ignoring his counterpart’s previous statement. “Give us your remaining prisoners, and I believe our business is concluded, Captain.”

Sirocco stared at him a moment more, then nodded back again. At her order, the six remaining captured raiders were brought forward, all looking more than a little fearful after seeing the execution unfold. Talon regulars moved forward to collect them, then shoved them into a single air carriage to transport them, with several sky gryphons hooking into harnesses to pull it. Two minutes later, the gryphons had departed with them, flying back towards their home territory. We watched them leave until they were out of sight before breaking formation ourselves.

I suddenly felt very tired, letting out a deep breath to release tension I didn’t even know I had, only to snap back to attention as Sirocco came up to glare at me. “Methinks you have a temper and a knack for speaking out of turn, Sergeant!” she all but snarled, then her expression softened.

“Still, ’tis a rare pony indeed who would do so in the face of four Red Talons. I admit I was uncertain you had truly earned your place in the Guard, but ’twould appear you did. You saved the outpost along with many lives, and for that I thank you, Guardsmare.” She bowed her head to me.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I told her and saluted before departing with Sundiver for Gamma, brooding and lost in thought. To my surprise, I felt a moment of regret and compassion for the gryphon raiders, considering what they had to look forward to. And I did not think I would ever forget the look of fear on the mage’s face as she faced the final moments of her life, suddenly wondering if ’twould have been more merciful if I’d slain her myself. And yet, something else was bothering me. Something that didn’t quite seem right...

Suddenly my brow furrowed as I locked onto an apparent contradiction in the proceedings. SIX other prisoners? I repeated the count to myself. But wait—weren’t there SEVEN?

Interrogation

Greetings, my Equestrian friends. And know that my part in this tale begins an hour after that fateful parley, when a single unicorn mare entered a secret passage deep beneath the command bunker of Outpost Gamma.

Though she wore the hood and cloak of an Equestrian Army unicorn soldier, and in fact she was one, I had come to learn she had another, far more covert role and position few knew of. Reaching her destination, she opened the locked door with a special spell and then stepped inside where there was little more than a single weakly lit table and a pair of chairs on either side.

In one sat a single trembling young sky gryphon. Said gryphon was lanky and barely past puberty, his wings bound and legs manacled, struggling desperately to stay awake. He was just fifteen, the youngest of the captured raiders having joined them but two weeks earlier, having no parents. No home.

And now, no hope.

His name was Gavian Ravenoff, and he was me. An impressionable teenager seduced into joining the raider group by promises of eaglesses, gems and glory, only to be thrown into a meat grinder he was in no way ready for, leaving him not just orphaned but alone, cut off completely from his own kind and country.

“So, Gavian…” the unicorn mare began in perfect Aeric, magically removing her cloak and longbow as she entered, putting them aside before taking a seat opposite me in the holding cell, located in the most secure sublevel of the base. “I assume you saw everything?” she nodded at the back wall, where her telepathic feed had fed a special projection gem and displayed the events of the parley before me.

The quivering of my beak told her I had—but then again, how could I not have seen it? It was seared into my memory given she’d only replayed the execution of the mage a dozen times! “Wh-what do you want from me?” I asked, my voice shrill and breaking. They’d told me ponies were weak and had no stomach for bloodshed; I’d learned the hard way the lie of that statement two days earlier as they fought like demons and their reinforcements all but slaughtered us like so many swine.

“I-I told you I don’t know anything! I just d-did what I was told!” I answered the mare in my native tongue, not knowing any Equestrian. “W-we were just trying to take a few more ponies, th-then everything w-went to the crows…” I offered again, my eyes squeezing shut in pain, the memories of that night still haunting me.

I knew then I would never be free of them; would never be free of the sheer terror and fear for my life I’d felt that night. And ‘twas a fear I still felt then, knowing my life was now in the hooves of the unicorn mare before me.

“You know, I would almost believe you, Gavian…” the orange-eyed, green-maned pony told me as she got up, circling me like a predator, and appropriately, her cutie mark was a series of stars arranged in the pattern of a longbow. “I would think you too young to know much. Except that we found exact copies of our communications gems on you. Except that according to your compatriots, Mistress Hildyra had a taste for younger tiercels and you were her favorite toy… meaning you might have been privy to more than most,” she added with a salacious grin, causing me to shudder and look away. She was correct, and the memories were far from pleasant ones for me.

“And except that you said something very odd when we initially spoke… something about ‘a place where ponies are taken’?” she reminded me, causing my drooping and very bloodshot eyes to go wide. “Methinks I’ll leave the first two questions to my fellow mares in the Equestrian Intelligence Service, but me? I’d very much like to know more about that place.”

“Wh-what about it?” I struggled to remain focused and not giving anything more away to the cunning and clever mare before me. I had not slept since the failed raid, for whenever I closed my eyes, I saw enraged white-furred pegasi mares diving on me with bloodstained blades.

Saw them cutting down my comrades one by one and then coming for me as well; ’twas only the shouted order of the commanding Guardsmare that spared my life. And my waking hours were little better; I could still clearly see the murderous looks on the pegasus mares’ faces as they captured and held me and the endless fear for my life I felt until other ponies arrived to take me for interrogation.

An interrogation that was now in its third day, leaving me ever closer to my breaking point. “It-it was just some old building! I-I mean th-there was barely anything there except for…” Too late, my beak clacked shut.

The mare grinned and leaned forward, causing a fresh pit to form in my empty stomach. “Ah… so you do know something. ’Tis good. Because you see, methinks there was much more to these raids than a simple kidnap-for-ransom plan. And methinks you can lead me to the truth.” she told me with the surety born of long experience in her craft.

“Y-you can’t protect me…” I shook my feathered head hard, now struggling to stay awake, my head lolling repeatedly, knowing what she was suggesting was tantamount to treason… and an instant death sentence in the empire. “If I say anything, they’ll kill me!” I was trying hard not to cry.

“Come now, Gavian,” the mare said, only too aware of my predicament. I didn’t know her name; I only knew that she held the power of life and death over me at that moment. “Only if they know you’re here. And ’tis certain they don’t, else they would have demanded your return at the parley or sent an assassin for you. We’ll hide you. We’ll treat you well despite your crimes. But if you still don’t want to talk? Well, I guess I can’t force you,” she shrugged.

“The Princess does have certain rules against coercive interrogation, after all. In that case, we’ll simply release you back to your own kind, explaining that we found you wounded and hiding in the canyon. We’ll even break your wing and a few ribs to keep up the ruse,” she suggested with a sly smile, causing me to whimper. They had barely patched up what wounds I did have, leaving me in pain as well as insomniac; clearly whatever rules there were against ‘coercive interrogation’ didn’t preclude sleep deprivation or letting me languish in pain.

A pain that only deepened as she continued. “Of course, even after all that they won’t believe us. They’ll assume—correctly—that we were holding you, and then they’ll interrogate you far less gently than me.

“In the end, you’ll break and admit you talked to us, and then they’ll charge you with treason and kill you exactly as they did your mage,” she grinned again as my eyes began welling up. Much as I wanted to believe I was a brave warrior, much as I’d wanted to believe the sword and old armor they’d given me made me invincible, I was now being forced to face the truth: that I was still but a helpless cub, lost in an alien realm and at the mercy of those I’d thought inferior to my race.

“In fairness, I suppose we could just let you go without telling them,” she mused idly, causing me to look up hopefully. “But sadly, there’s nowhere in Equestria a gryphon can go, and should you try to return to the Empire, they’ll be alerted by their own intrusion detection spells the instant you cross the border.

“They’ll find you… realize you were here… interrogate you… and it all ends up the same,” she noted in mock sadness as she sat before me and pursed her hooves, her look triumphant as she sensed she had me. “You now have no future, Gavian Ravenoff. Except for what I may grant you.”

With that, I buried my head in my own manacled talons and began to cry. I was a gryphon. A predator. Ponies were supposed to be weak and little more than meat to us. And yet here I was, reduced to a mewling cub by them, trapped and dependent on their good graces for my very life.

And even worse, I was ready to give them what they wanted to keep it. At that moment I cared not for honor. I cared not for patriotism or pride. I was just a fifteen year-old tiercel, and all I wanted to do was live.

“There, there…” she told me, her horn flaring to raise my chin with her aura. “It’ll be alright. We’ll hide you. We’ll feed you. We’ll keep you safe. We’ll even give you relief from the nightmares so you can sleep. You can keep your life. You can live comfortably. And all you have to do is help us. All you have to do is talk…” she cooed softly in my ear.

A Plan in Motion

To you who now read this, know that I, too, am a gryphon, and my name is both revered and reviled for it. Know also that though then-Sergeant Firefly began as my hated foe, our rivalry born in blood and spanning the entire conflict to come, in the years that followed we became comrades… even friends. I now pen this at her request, for she wishes the gryphon side of this tale to be known in her story as well. She showed me great honor and respect over the course of the war, and I now happily return the favor, recognizing her as a true warrior and one of the few beings, pony or gryphon that I could truly call my equal.

I cannot say it started that way, of course. Celestia’s sun had reached its zenith as the gryphon Captain Sirocco knew as Legate Nero landed in a sprawling military base near the large port city of Cirrus Cassida, the main base of supply for the gryphon colonies and military camps on the Equestrian continent.

Upon arriving, he was immediately saluted by two seemingly higher-ranking gryphon officers who bared their throats and pounded their right fists hard against their opposite shoulder. They attended him as he exchanged the tunic of a Legate to don in its place, a new uniform bearing the two stars and gold eagle insignia of a Consul.

Commanding not only the base but thirty legions of soldiers, Consul Salvio Gaius then bade his aides goodbye and flew to his tower office with a single Red Talon Centurion following, landing on his balcony and then walking inside.

That Red Talon Centurion was me, Layan Kaval, former Wind Knight and a fifteen-year veteran of the Consul’s campaigns. I had been a Talaeus for eight of those, having earned my black armor by slaying a dragon raiding our northern mines. Since then I had seen action in many battles, defeating all those who would threaten our still-expanding Empire. An Empire that would soon double in size were the well-thought plans of the earth gryphon before me come to pass…

An Empire that would all but rule the world were we victorious in the war to come.

“A good meeting, all told,” Gaius mused as he sat back and poured himself a drink, then offering a second one to me, his then-adjutant and bodyguard. “So what did you think of that female Guardspony, Centurion Kaval?” the Consul asked me almost leisurely, addressing me as his equal as he so often did. “’Twas something of a surprise to see they are now accepting mares into the Armored Guard.”

“Weak,” I pronounced in disdain as I accepted the drink bowl. There weren’t many I commanders I truly respected, but the Consul was one of them. “’Tis uncertain to me how she gained entry to their Guard, but you saw how she reacted to carrying out sentence on the mage. Like so many ponies, she has no stomach for this business. She would crumble easily in battle,” I was only too certain back then.

“The fact that she defeated our raids say otherwise,” the Consul reminded me mildly as he tilted his bowl backwards slightly, taking a long draw.

I did not partake with him, annoyed at the implication that a mere mare was in any way my equal. “With respect, my lord, I am hardly impressed by beating up a few mangy mercenaries or a half-trained magus cadet.”

“Nevertheless, methinks you misjudge her, Centurion,” Gaius didn’t back down. “To my eyes, she reacted as one who had seen blood spilled for the first time. Or perhaps had spilled it herself for the first time.

“If she could take out a mage and by all reports defeat the earlier raid almost entirely by herself, then she is indeed a force to reckoned with. Do not discount her,” he warned, to which I grunted, sensing some truth in his words, though I had no idea that day how prophetic they truly were. “The ponies do have some warriors to be wary of, both in the Guard and out of it. Need I remind you of what happened in an engagement with the Aerial Corps six years ago?”

My red-tipped wings twitched. “’Twas but a fluke,” I replied in some anger, feeling the sting to my group’s honor… and thus my own. “Miyal Calea was a criminal and an overconfident fool, but still a Talaeus. And worse, you never gave us a chance to avenge his defeat!” I curled my talons inwards and brought my fist down hard on the stone desk in front of him, causing drink to slosh out of my bowl.

“Be patient, my friend,” Consul Gaius replied evenly, unperturbed by the display. “All in due time. Our interests are not served right now by having the ponies belligerent. Currently they are none the wiser to our plans and we wish to keep it that way.

“’Tis a pity we could not wring one or two more raids out of Hildyra’s group, but ’tis no real loss—we already got most of what we wanted out of this business. They were occasionally useful, but ultimately expendable. And best of all, the ponies already destroyed most of the evidence for us by killing or returning to us all those who might have been able to give them some hints,” he grinned.

Long experience as the Consul’s adjutant allowed me to read between the lines quite easily. “Then you will indeed put the remaining members of her group to death?”

“Of course,” Gaius confirmed. “We simply couldn’t do it then and there, or that would suggest to the ponies we were trying to cover something up. But worry not. By my order, they will all be dead by nightfall.”

“Good,” I grunted as I sat back on my haunches and took my first sip from the bowl—he always had the finest of rums available, and though I was on duty, ’twould be an insult to refuse his generosity. “Still, I say Sirocco was right on one point. You were overly-generous to the ponies,” I accused, my red-tasseled tail swishing behind me. “That alone may make them suspicious. And even if not, some on our side might see that as showing weakness to an inferior race of leaf-eaters.”

“It matters not what some may think,” Gaius replied as we walked back on the balcony to survey the base he commanded. As always, he was unruffled, secure in his place and plans. Brilliant and cunning, he had confidence and charisma to spare, which was no doubt why he had been made the Empire’s top strategist and had the ear and favor of the Empress herself, charged with planning the coming compaign.

“The ponies may be suspicious, but they will find nothing because they know not where to look. The seeds for Equestria’s destruction have been laid right under their noses. It will take some more time for our remaining preparations to come to full fruition, but once they do…”

The Consul couldn’t help but grin as he tipped his bowl to me. “Equestria will fall. Celestia will surrender. And the gryphons—not the ponies—will be the preeminent race of this world.”

“As you say,” I replied with a grin of my own, looking forward to the battles to come and tipping my bowl back to him. Our plans were already in motion, and by them, the full military might of the Empire would be unleashed against Equestria in but three short months.

And when it was, ‘twas certain to me that the ponies stood no chance.

Author's Note

I decided to take a break from writing the my new Equestria Girls hentai story to punch out a Firefly chapter, and it came surprisingly quickly. This is one I’ve had in mind for a while; the true introduction of the gryphons. As you may have noticed, Intrigue is aplenty on both sides, and I would like to make a special acknowledgement to Demon Eyes Laharl, as I used his model for the gryphon military. If you like this, you are invited go read his Feathered Heart, a griffin/human military crossover set in the Gentlemanverse that was part of the inspiration for this story. It’s very good.

UPDATE: In a change, I've decided to not switch to 3rd person in the trailing sections as was the case originally. They remain in first person, told by two of the characters present in those scenes. That keeps things consistent, and allows other sides of this story to be told more effectively, I hope.

Thanks to AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, and Leo Archon for the preread!

Part 9 - Why We Fight

My first Hearth’s Warming as a Guardsmare ’twas a very somber affair.

’Twas certain it could not be anything else, and I feared my memories of what was supposed to be a happy time would be forever tainted by the attack on Outpost Epsilon. Yet, it also marked another turning point in my life, a far happier one as would quickly become clear. For on that Hearth’s Warming I would be given the greatest gift of my life…

A family.

Raider Requiem

Hearth’s Warming Eve dawned sad and somber at Outpost Epsilon.

Snow had fallen hard overnight, but ’twas not pegasus doing. ’Twas but another storm front out of the Empire, producing a bitter wind and swirling flakes off the canyon that had lifted just before morning. After the raids of the previous weeks we had given up trying to mitigate them, for every pegasus pulled off patrol for weather duty was one less who could defend our border and bases.

The frontier towns complained as they were hammered repeatedly with wild weather, but in truth, I was glad for it. The snow covered the scars of battle and remaining bloodstains on the ground, granting a measure of purity and peace to a place that no longer knew it. I did not wish to stay any longer than I had to, and as my leave had been approved, a transport was waiting to take me back home along with a few others. But before I could depart, there was a memorial service to attend for the sixteen ponies slain in the raider attack.

As ’twas traditional for pegasi, their nearly-indestructible primary feathers would be returned to their families and loved ones, but they would otherwise be laid to rest with a single primary to mark their passing. Their bodies would be cremated and their ashes released to the skies they loved and defended; their names forever etched into a slab of granite laid in a garden outside the outpost’s headquarters bunker. As per another custom, the service was to be held at daybreak, reflecting an old pegasus belief that the rising sun led the way to the Summerlands for fallen warriors.

As dawn broke over the canyon, the first rays of light illuminating our frosty breaths in the frigid air, the entire Epsilon garrison assembled outside the remains of the base, which was just starting to be repaired—and expanded, if the new construction sites were any indication. It was very cold, but the chill of the air didn’t affect me so much as the chill in my heart; the many deaths, both witnessed and inflicted, of three days earlier still weighing heavily on me.

We snapped to attention as Captain Sirocco stepped up, her face drawn, dressed in her wingblade harness and battle armor, blades deployed—’twas something pegasi shared in common with gryphons; we were warriors and would honor our fallen as them. She had come by naval transport the night before and was there to posthumously award the Wing Warrior badge to the fallen pegasi. They would also receive the Celestial Seal of Sacrifice medal, awarded automatically to dead and wounded soldiers.

Those of us who survived our first battle were awarded Wing Warrior badges as well; mine sat heavy on my armored chest. I once coveted it and saw it as a badge of honor, but now ‘twas little more than an unwelcome reminder. One I wanted nothing more than to fling as far away as I could.

I was far from alone in that sentiment, or the only one traumatized by the events of that night. Though the veterans remained stoic, Fell Flight most of all, many mares that had seen their first real fighting that night were still in shock and mourning for their lost comrades, often stunned by their own bloodthirstiness in slaying the gryphons.

’Twasn’t just the mares either; Private Shrike had barely spoken a word since the battle, having trouble coming to terms with the death of his friend and his actions to avenge him. ’Twas a rude awakening that no matter how peaceful or versed in Harmony we were, we were just as capable of killing and bloodlust as the gryphons we thought ourselves better than. ’Twas a very hard thing to accept, but such thoughts were lost as the Captain stepped onto an elevated stand and began to speak.

“To other ponies, the Wing Warrior badge represents high honor; a mark of martial prowess and warrior worthiness. But those of us who have received it know differently,” she began, her voice amplified by her blue command gem. “It means we have joined the sisterhood—and brotherhood—of blood and battle. That we have lost our innocence and known the terror of combat. That we have felt the pain of seeing our friends fall before us,” she told us all, causing a series of stifled sobs.

“It reminds us that there is little glory in what we do, and often all too much agony. It reminds us that we do not fight for Princess and Province so much as for friends and families; for the comrades we meet and fellowships we form here.

“In receiving this award, we are no longer mares and stallions, Corps soldiers or Guardsponies, pegasi or unicorns. We are ponies whose bonds were forged by battle, warriors of Equestria charged with her protection and defense. We fight so that others stay safe. So that they may sleep soundly and be spared the horrors of battle and the nightmares we must endure. That is what it means to be a soldier,” she told us, leaving me reflecting that Sundiver had said something very similar. Then again, ’twas probably a speech she’d given many times in the past, so mayhap he’d heard it from her to begin with.

“’Tis a burden we accept but reluctantly, and one only those who have carried it can truly understand. Its costs…” she paused long enough to bow her head to the newly laid gravestones, “now lie before us.”

She took a deep breath before going on, raising her eyes back to face us. “Tis not weakness that we mourn their loss, or that we now question our actions.” Her gaze turned on me as she spoke, and I sensed her words were now at least in part meant for my ears. “’Tis a normal part of the grieving process, and an important one.

“But we cannot allow our emotions to cloud our judgments or break our fighting spirit. We cannot allow ourselves to give into doubt or despair. Our enemies do not sleep, and do not mourn with us. They will come again. And we must be ready. So stand fast and stand strong, Guardians of Equestria, and know that all ponies stand with you. Just as they once stood with us.”

Her eulogy concluded, she came to attention as an old pegasus funeral medley was played. The cremated ashes of my fallen forces were released to the winds that pegasi worshipped and wielded; the fine dust picked up by the bitter breeze to be carried away as the too-long roll call for the fallen was recited. Names, faces and voices I’d known, now lost to all but memory save but a single primary feather and placard. We stood at attention, but emotions could not be restrained. Stifled sobs were heard as a friend or comrade was recognized, with the most emotion reserved for the three fallen stallions.

Tears were in my eyes as well. No matter how many times I was told otherwise, I still believed I had failed them, and the medal on my chest was just a reminder of that fact—that I still lived but they didn’t.

And how was that even remotely fair?

When the dirge had ended, the Captain called our attention to her yet again. “As we remember the past, we must also look to the future. And to that end, there is one final order of business to attend.” It was then she turned to me. “Sergeant Firefly!”

Though surprised, I trotted forward from the head of the formation and saluted. “Reporting, ma’am!” I tried to speak without my voice breaking, hoping the tears in my eyes would be attributed to the biting wind.

She considered me for a moment before speaking. “Sergeant Firefly… methinks this was not the introduction to command or combat I would have wished for you, but you proved equal to the task. ’Twas thanks to your quick thinking, tactical skill and combat prowess this base was twice saved, an entire raider group destroyed, and many more lives spared.

“For your superb leadership in most trying circumstances, doubly so for it coming but two weeks after assuming command of this base, you are hereby awarded the Aerial Corps Commander’s Cross, given only to officers, both commissioned and non, who display exemplary leadership in battle.” She stuck the blue-and-white medal to my chestplate, beside the silver-and-black Wing Warrior badge.

“The Corps thanks you for your service, Guardsmare.” She stepped back and saluted me, cuing the rest of the assembled pegasi to do the same. There was no acclaim for the award, nor did I wish any. In fact, I wasn’t sure I wanted this medal any more than the last, and said as much, my expression downcast.

“With respect… I do not feel I deserve this, ma’am.”

To my surprise, a smile cracked her normally severe features. “That alone confirms for me that you do, Sergeant,” she replied. “The burden of command is far greater than that of being a simple soldier. Believe me, I know.” Her expression went sad and brooding for a moment, but she recovered quickly.

“But I also know true leadership when I see it, and so does First Lieutenant Sundiver. I don’t give these out easily. In fact, quite rarely. But you have earned it. And for proving yourself an able warrior and officer, you have more than earned this as well.” She pulled out a scroll from her uniform pouch and unrolled it; I recognized the seal as belonging to the Captain of the Royal Guard.

“Sergeant Firefly! For demonstrating such fine mettle as both a soldier and a sergeant, ’tis been decided you should bear a rank worthy of your status as base commander! By my recommendation, and by order of Captain Typhoon, you are hereby promoted… to Sergeant First Class!”

With that declaration, she removed my old rank insignias and replaced them with new ones that had been clipped to the scroll, the three red V-stripes now paired with two curved ‘rockers’ beneath it, the empty space in the middle filled with the Guardspony service insignia. And this time, there was acclaim from the crowd; even Fell Flight nodded and looked pleased despite me gaining a rank in less than six months it’d taken her six years to reach.

I was speechless as she went on. “After the raids of the past month, ’tis been decided that this outpost can no longer be considered a safe backwater for its remote location. ’Twould seem it had become a favorite raider target for its smaller size and fewer numbers. No longer! Accordingly, it shall be rebuilt into a full-strength border base, with a battalion-sized garrison.

“Frontline training of new Corps pegasi will no longer be done here, but back at Gamma, which can support and protect them until they are ready for more dangerous posts. Therefore, First Lieutenant Sundiver is being transferred there and given the title of Chief Training Officer. And in his place…” Her eyes fell on me.

“Your deployment was scheduled to end in six weeks, but it does not have to. Command of Epsilon is yours for as long as you wish it… Sergeant First Class Firefly!” She saluted me again.

All I could think to do was salute back as hoofstomps erupted behind me.

Wing Warriors

I got on the transport in an utter daze.

I barely remembered the trip back, even though it took several hours, arriving back at Fort Spur midday. There was no talking during the entire journey, everypony aboard lost in their own brooding thoughts.

As I bade the remaining Corps pegasi goodbye as they continued on to their hometowns, I found myself looking out of the currently-empty Fort Spur training grounds from which I had embarked but four short months earlier.

We had arrived at lunch hour, but I didn’t feel like eating, much as I hadn’t the previous several nights. In truth, I felt like a ghost returning to a place she had once lived; walking in the hoofsteps of a pony that no longer existed. I was not the same pony who left there; certainly not the same one who initially arrived. I was changed now in ways I did not fully understand, and thus, I sought the counsel of the one pony I thought might be able to help me.

A pony who had seen fit to greet my arrival personally, standing at the dock as I disembarked.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” Sergeant Major Windshear greeted me formally as I saluted him, returning the gesture crisply—far more than he usually did when I was but a recruit. I caught the barest hint of concern in his eyes as he appraised me. “You seem to be carrying a bit more weight on your shoulders now,” he noted with a somber nod at my medals and new rank insignia. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir. But I’m not sure I want any of it…” I admitted, letting him see the pain in my eyes. “May we talk, Sergeant Major?”

He nodded gravely. “Of course. Methinks I can give you a half-hour before afternoon training begins,” he told me, leading me back to his office. Flying, we arrived in less than a minute.

“So how is the new recruit class?” I asked him as we entered and he put his kettle on.

Before replying, he gave me an askance look. “You seem to have made quite an impression on Recruit Jester,” he finally noted with a wry grin. “As hard as he’s training, methinks he took you at your word.”

“My word?” I blinked, only to blush as I remembered my motivational speech to him. Methinks I’d all but forgotten it in the wake of everything that had happened since. “Oh. Sky Sentry. He’s doing well, then?”

“Very,” Windshear confirmed. “’Tis no exaggeration to say he’s nearly as good as you, and I’m giving him the same advanced training regimen you got—at his insistence, I might add,” he chuckled. “He’s already good enough to beat half the trainers and I may test him myself before all is said and done. Be warned, he might well get that Corporal rank you told him he required in order to…?”

My blush deepened at the look the Sergeant Major gave me. “I believed I promised him ‘the slightest chance’, sir. I did not say ’twas guaranteed!” I reminded him, slightly flustered.

His grin got wider. “Nevertheless, methinks you’re going to face a challenge with some very interesting terms when he graduates, Sergeant,” Windshear twinkled, only for his expression to go serious again. “But ’twould seem you face challenges of a far different sort right now?

“I do,” I admitted, going downcast as the funeral dirge played that morning at Epsilon echoed through my head again. “And I could really use some advice, sir.”

He nodded solemnly and offered me the chair in front of his desk. “So what happened?” he asked me, pouring me some tea out of his kettle and passing the cup to me. “’Tis certainly known you saw action—methinks the news is all over Equestria now—but not the particulars. At least, nothing from any source I’d trust. I’ve heard variously that you slew a dozen raiders or single-hoofedly saved an outpost… oh, and that you sobered up some drunken militia stallion by dumping a bucket of snow on his apples?” His grin turned wry.

For the first time in days, I actually laughed a little, remembering the stallion’s shocked schoolfilly shriek. “Well, methinks that much is true…” I admitted, recalling how I’d rudely rousted the militia base commander at Gallop. I then went on to tell the Sergeant Major the full story of the two raids, and how the last one had ended, my lip quivering as I told him how I decapitated the raider group leader to save my new friend.

To my surprise, he reached across the desk and took my hoof in his own, in a gesture I could only describe as fatherly. “Twould be a lie to say I wasn’t worried about that with you. I knew you wouldst face this eventually. And ’twas not the challenges from other Guardsponies that concerned me so much as your first true taste of fighting. It’s broken many a pony in the past.”

I shook my head, thinking what a foal I had been. “When you asked me before if I could kill, I thought ’twas academic. Yet now I know you were right to worry,” I told him, going downcast. “Because I feel like I lost part of myself out there. And now, I no longer know if I can do this. And I certainly don’t know that I earned these…” I motioned to the adornments on my chest.

“Stand fast and stand tall, Sergeant,” Windshear repeated Sirocco’s words, giving my hoof a squeeze. “From what you said, I see nothing else you could have done. Captain Typhoon must have thought so too, for ‘tis certain he does not jump ponies two ranks lightly. He earned his post, and he insists that others earn theirs. He doesn’t kiss up to nobles or approve such rapid promotions unless you’ve earned them. And I knew Captain Sirocco from my time in the Corps—believe me, she doesn’t either. If they say you earned it, ’tis certain to me you did.”

I was still skeptical, and the Sergeant Major saw it. “If you still doubt yourself, let me tell you a story, Sergeant,” he began. Even though I was an SFC, it was still customary to address an NCO as ‘Sergeant’ until you hit the rank of First Sergeant in the Guard, or Sky Sergeant for the Corps. “’Tis about a cocky young colt fresh out of basic, not too unlike yourself. One who thought himself invincible, was the best recruit in his class, graduated with a high starting rank and thought he could beat the entire Gryphon Empire by himself.”

I guessed instantly who that colt was, but decided I’d play along. “Perchance I know him, sir?”

“Perchance you do,” he granted, smiling wanly. “He was but eight weeks out of basic when he saw his first action, fighting out of Outpost Delta when a large force of gryphons raided Trottingham over the winter holidays…”

* * * * *

It took him twenty minutes to recount the whole story and by the end of it, my hoof was at my mouth. As bad as my introduction to the gryphons and fighting had been, the Sergeant Major’s was even worse.

“And so that was it. The battle was won, and that young colt ’twas decorated for his actions, but it mattered little to him. Two of his squadmates died that day... and part of him died with them. That’s when he realized ’twasn’t a game. That’s when he knew what he was up against. That honor meant precious little in an actual battle; that he wasn’t invincible. And neither were his friends.

“That to be a warrior meant death and killing. That it meant forever sacrificing part of your own soul.” He looked down in brooding memory for a moment. “Just like you, he questioned himself and his actions constantly afterwards; even considered quitting. But in the end, he did not. In the end, he came to terms with it and emerged a warrior.”

“And how did he come to terms with it?” I had to know.

Windshear’s eyes closed in memory. “Fortunately, there were others who had done so already that he could talk to, and one of his new friends told him something that stuck with him. Something perhaps best passed on to you now.” He sat back in his seat, his eyes distant. “He told me that ‘nopony ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb son-of-a-diamond-dog die for theirs!” he affected an odd but strangely familiar accent as he spoke.

I blinked. “Who said that?”

“Lieutenant Ironsides,” he admitted. “Though he was just an Army Sergeant back then.”

My eyeridges flew up at the mention of the gruff and intimidating Fort Spur commander, an earth pony who visited our recruit class more than once to run our training drills personally and teach us grappling; my ears still burned from the dressing down he gave me for failing to budge him even an inch in a contest where my only task was to move him. “Really?”

“Really. And he’s right.” Windshear actually chuckled. “Granted, he said it after a few drinks, but methinks he knew what he was talking about. Some, like the gryphons, believe the highest honor ’tis to kill for their nation and die for their cause. But that’s not what ponies are about. We believe in life, and defend it. We live for our country, whilst they seek to die for theirs.”

I kept the thought to myself that the raiders seemed only interested in money as he went on.

“Put another way, the difference between us and them is that they fight for conquest, honor and glory—ultimately selfish reasons—whilst we fight for each other and to protect those we hold dear.

“And therein lies the key to being a successful soldier and coming to terms with death and killing, Sergeant—knowing who you fight for, and why. For me, I decided the answer ’twas simply this…”

He pulled open the drawer of his immaculate desk. “They are who I fight for,” he announced as he brought out a framed image. ’Twas a unicorn-painted picture of four mares and nine foals, including two colts. They surrounded the Sergeant Major, who was dressed in his formal Guardspony uniform.

’Twas his herd. I would never have guessed him to be a family stallion, which in hindsight ’twas a ridiculous thought—stallions couldn’t join the Guard until they’d sired sons, after all—but in the end the Sergeant Major ’twas but a regular pony outside of the Guardspony trainer persona he donned. A father, a husband… and a friend. “Then this…”

“’Tis my family in Cloudsdale—my mares, sons and daughters,” he confirmed. “They give me strength. They give me hope. For them I would do anything. For them I will live; for them I will fight, kill if I must… and if necessary, die. I will do so to preserve their futures, and their nation so that they may grow up within it without knowing the things I’ve seen and done.” His eyes went distant. “For ’twas them that gave me strength in my darkest hour. And my gravest test.” He nodded behind him to the Defender of Harmony medal and Red Talon trophies on the wall.

As odd as it was to hear these words coming from a stallion, they rang true. I found myself nodding slowly, my understanding growing as there was a knock on the door and Bone Deep entered, passing a note to the Sergeant Major. The healer and recruiter unicorn stallion was surprised to see me and greeted me warmly, making a point of saluting me for now having a higher rank. Startled, I returned the honor, wondering if I’d ever get used to it.

Windshear smiled as the Sergeant departed and he scanned the note. “So the question before you, Sergeant, ’tis not if you can fight. ‘Tis who can you fight for?” he told me. “Answer that, and you shall find your strength. Answer that and you shall find peace and purpose. Answer that… and you shall become the warrior you were meant to be,” he promised me as a trumpet suddenly sounded outside, a familiar call for recruits to assemble following lunch.

With that, he stood up. “Now go, Sergeant. Enjoy your leave. I’ve got a recruit class to ream before going on Hearth’s Warming leave myself, and ’twould seem you have a friend awaiting you outside the base gates.” He smiled, showing me the note he’d just received; the name on it causing my heart to leap.

“But before you leave, a word of warning, Firefly…” His expression went grave again, his sudden use of my real name telling me to heed his next words carefully. “With your promotion, methinks you’re going to face a new round of challenges from veteran Guardsponies who think it unfair you jumped ranks so quickly. Such challengers will be longtime and seasoned veterans not easy to defeat. Be ready.”

I nodded slowly, standing up and saluting him, feeling much better than when I’d arrived. “I shall be, sir.”

Friends Forever

I left the Sergeant Major’s office lost in thought.

Though I briefly considered going with him and greeting whatever remained of the pegasus recruit class, I decided against it, knowing I was not in the right frame of mind to present myself well or deal with Sky Sentry. At that moment, there was only one pony whose company I wanted. And she was waiting just outside the gates, as Windshear had said.

Wind Whistler smiled softly at me as I exited. “’Tis good to see you, Firefly,” she said as she drew me into an embrace. “Welcome home, my friend.”

I eagerly returned it, trying to choke back tears. I was definitely feeling better after Windshear’s story, but I still needed the comfort of my one true friend. “’Tis good to see you as well, dear Whistler.” As I let go, I looked her over. Something seemed different about her, but I couldn’t quite place my hoof on it.

And found I didn’t much care as my lost appetite of the past several days finally caught up with me. We ate lunch at an old favorite of ours, the Haystack Cafe, where a shared bowl of fruit and flowers was quickly polished off over my first mug of cider in months. Hearth’s Warming decorations surrounded us, but I hardly noticed them, and only barely acknowledged the greetings some old acquaintances gave me, impressed by my appearance in a Guardspony uniform.

Trust Wind Whistler to notice. In truth, she had sensed something wrong with me the moment she laid eyes on me. “You’ve changed, my friend,” she noted in some concern over lunch. “If you wish to talk…?”

I did, so afterwards, we took a long flight and walk through the woods, doing just that. I did not wish to share my burdens with her, but before long the story all spilled out as we sat on a cloud overlooking the town and base. Her only response was to listen quietly and then comfort me as I cried in the privacy of the air around us; she held me gently as I released days of pent-up emotion by sobbing into her shoulder, mourning my lost comrades and innocence.

In the end, ’twas what I needed at least as much as Windshear’s words, and I found myself feeling far better after.

“So where will you stay?” Wind Whistler asked me when we finally flew back to town, to which I but shrugged.

“The Inn, I suppose.” I had ended the lease on my small apartment when I graduated and given away my few possessions, intent on leaving my old life behind. “And if they are full, I shall simply find a patch of cloud.”

“You will do no such thing!” Wind Whistler put her hoof down. “Hearth’s Warming is a time for friendship and family and thus, you will stay with me.”

My heart warmed at her affection. “I do not wish to impose…”

“’Tis my choice, my friend. You are always welcome in my home, and now my parents’ home as well. Wouldst you care to join me and my family for a Hearth’s Warming Eve dinner?” she asked.

I blinked. “On such short notice? Are you certain your parents would not object?”

She smiled at me. “Worry not, my friend. When I received your letter saying you wouldst be coming home for leave, I asked them if I could invite you, and they said yes. ’Tis simply not done that you should not enjoy a traditional Hearth’s Warming dinner when you have leave on the holiday.”

I agreed, but ’twould be a lie to say I was eager. Methinks I had been looking forward to spending a quiet evening with Wind Whistler alone. As noted before, Wind Whistler’s parents had never really approved of our friendship, or of me. They had softened a little after the Diamond Dog incident, but as far as I knew, their opinion of me had yet to change. Still, if Wind Whistler had convinced them…

“Very well,” I said. Immediately, my stomach rumbled an agreement, which sent her into a fit of giggles. I blushed. “I suppose I really could use some hot food for once!”

Reason for the Season

We stopped off at her apartment home just long enough for me to drop off my rucksack, shower off my grey fur dye with a special cleanser and then change for the first time into my formal Guardspony uniform. It consisted of a white tunic and burgundy dress jacket with a silver sash, with my rank insignia carved out of brass and sitting high on my collar.

I hesitated over whether to wear my new medals, as I did not wish to give the impression of bragging, but Wind Whistler insisted, saying her parents would appreciate them. I was startled when I looked at myself in the mirror, and not just because it was the first time in months I had seen my true colors.

I looked completely different than I had upon entering basic. Gone was most of my long shock of mane hair, now close-cropped. Instead of slouching lazily as I had done often as a teenager, I stood tall and straight, almost at attention. My body was pure sleek pegasus muscle now, which might not get me much interest from males but did mark me as a finely honed warrior, one who had already seen action.

In short, I had the look and manner of a soldier now. And yet, what was most different to me were my eyes. Gone was the twinkle in them, the cocky gleam they’d once known. ’Twas the numbed gaze of someone who had seen combat; who had killed.

The look of a mare who had gotten everything she wanted and was no longer sure she did.

“You look very dashing, my friend,” Wind Whistler noted in appreciation as she donned her own dress. “’Tis certain my parents will accept you now.”

When we got to her parents’ home, I found myself amazed once more at how opulent it was. I knew that both of Wind Whistler’s parents were military ponies, but the sheer level of luxury they lived in was staggering. I had thought military ponies were used to spartan lifestyles, but her parents were anything but spartan in their home. It wasn’t as garish or fancy as the nobleponies’ homes I saw in Canterlot, but it was still far more than I had ever lived in.

One peculiar note about Wind Whistler’s parents is that they were a single pair of mare and stallion; what is colloquially termed a ‘matched pair’. The two had never formed a herd, and had expressed their intentions not to. ’Twas unusual, and viewed as selfish by some, for one mare to keep a stallion all to herself; the low numbers of stallions in Equestria meant that forming herds was oftentimes not just preferred, but necessary.

However, as both of them were military ponies to the core, very few ponies ever said anything about it. Herds were hard enough to maintain with one member in the military; multiple members made it nearly impossible.

As we entered, we were greeted by Wind Whistler’s father, Tailwind. A former flyer in the horribly under-crewed Royal Navy, he was now a Commander and first officer of one of our few remaining naval airships, the EAS [Equestrian Airship] Loyalty. Whilst it may seem odd, his promotion was due to tragedy; when an accident aboard one of the airships left him with a permanently crippled wing, he was no longer capable of flying—or indeed, of traditional pegasus combat, period.

For those who are unaware, Equestria was still feeling the effects of Nightmare Moon’s rebellion even three centuries after the event. Prior to her revolt, the Royal Navy was as large and respected as the Royal Guard, being Princess Luna’s personal service branch just as the Guard is Princess Celestia’s. It used to be that ‘the Guard is our shield; the Navy, our sword’, or so the texts say.

However, much of the Navy was lost during the Lunar Rebellion, as they followed their sovereign’s orders and waged war on Celestia. Almost completely disbanded afterwards, it had become little more than a ceremonial branch of the armed forces the Princess only retained out of love and respect for her lost sister.

Before the war, nobles who wanted to claim military experience took a tour of duty in the Navy where they could wear a uniform while not actually risking themselves. To little surprise, it gave them little credit for it with the Royal Guard, Army or Aerial Corps, and Naval service was considered ‘cushy’ as a result.

Tailwind was not one of those ponies. I’d heard from Wind Whistler that he’d been rising through the ranks, and was petitioning the Crown to begin expanding and training the Navy back up to its original levels. But Princess Celestia remained reluctant, believing doing so would be seen as provocative to Equestria’s enemies given that the Navy had once been the offensive arm of the Equestrian military.

The resistance he faced from the other service branches didn’t help matters. The Aerial Corps and Armored Guard claimed to do the job of the Navy anyway, whilst the Army viewed naval airships as little more than large targets that were all but useless at taking or holding ground. Tailwind had never accepted these arguments, and was continuing his petitions even to this day. He cut an imposing figure, even with his injury; he stood nearly as tall as Stonehoof, the earth pony Royal Guard graduate who I’d wrestled with briefly in the post-graduation party. His coat was a brilliant cyan, and his mane a pure white.

He favored me with a warm smile, to my surprise. “Welcome, Sergeant Firefly,” he said simply. “You appear to have done well for yourself,” he noted, seeing my two medals and the rank insignia of an SFC.

I admit I was caught off-guard by the formality with which he greeted me, to say nothing of the respect. Still, months of drilling took over, and I replied with an immediate salute. “I thank you for having me, Commander.”

He waved a hoof in dismissal. “You needn’t be so formal with me, Sergeant. After all, I am not part of your branch of service, and it is unlikely I ever will be. I will have to keep myself satisfied giving orders from the bridge of an airship.” He took a brief glance at his useless right wing, which was held at an odd angle to his body.

After meeting Blindside, I knew that those with disabilities could, in fact, serve and serve well. Still, ’twas also no question a crippled wing was a far more debilitating disadvantage than a blind eye, so I simply nodded. “Perchance one day medicine will advance to the point where you may yet serve Equestria again in a more up-front role,” I suggested.

He smiled again, somewhat more wanly. “Perchance. Now come along. Silent Night should be finished with the dinner preparations.”

He led us to the dining area of the home, where his wife, Silent Night, was laying out the table. Though technically retired holding the rank of Sky Sergeant, she remained part of the ready reserves for the Aerial Corps; she still drew a military stipend even though she wasn’t on active duty any longer.

I knew from Wind Whistler that she specifically worked in the elite Black Lance battalion, a highly-trained Corps unit that engaged in special and covert operations, often working in conjunction with the Equestrian Intelligence Service. Her coat was well suited to such a role, being a dusky blue, though her mane wasn’t, being a vivid red. She looked up and smiled as we entered. “Ah, hello, Firefly! ’Tis good to see you again.” She came up and held my hoof, looking me over with great approval.

I was once again caught flat-hooved by the friendly greeting, and this time I couldn’t hide my bemusement. “Thank you, ma’am. You will forgive my bluntness, but I was not expecting such a welcome”—I glanced at both of them—“from either of you. You have made your distaste for me known in the past. Rather vocally, I might add.”

Tailwind and Silent Night exchanged looks; rueful ones, I noted. “Well, that was when we thought you little more than another orphaned spitfire,” Tailwind replied. He wasn’t one to mince words. “You were brash, headstrong, and lacking in discipline… in short, we thought you wouldst be a bad influence on Wind Whistler.”

“But you’ve changed, Firefly,” Silent Night continued. “Those medals and the fact that you were able to graduate basic training by besting Sergeant Major Windshear proves that you’ve come far.” She smiled at me; a genuine, caring smile. “In addition, Wind Whistler has been keeping us apprised of your letters and progress in the Guard. We also heard about your outpost battle—indeed, everypony has by now. When she told us you were coming here on leave and that she wanted you to have a proper Hearth’s Warming dinner, we could hardly refuse.”

Well. I certainly wasn’t going to complain about this change in their attitude. “I thank you both, then. Is dinner prepared?” I asked, a bare hint of my old carefree smirk showing.

“It is,” she promised. “Please, sit down and eat.”

The Black Lances

Dinner was, quite simply, sumptuous. Silent Night had pulled out all the stops. ’Twas definitely a change from the mess hall at Epsilon, which served the same tasteless slop day after day—that alone would be another reason to start stationing some army earth ponies at the outpost, I thought, if they would just grow some food. I managed to restrain myself from simply diving headfirst into my share, instead eating at a measured pace despite my ongoing hunger. As we ate, the four of us talked about everything from Silent Night’s wonderful dinner to Tailwind’s petitions for naval expansion, even Wind Whistler’s business in making whistles and wind chimes.

Finally, though, talk turned to me. “Methinks, Firefly, that your leave was rather sudden,” Tailwind noted. “After we heard of the attack on your outpost, we would have thought you wouldst remain there over the holidays.”

I winced, my appetite fading at the reminder of why I was here. “’Twas my intention to do so. However, circumstances conspired against me,” I replied carefully.

“Circumstances which led to a two-rank promotion?” Silent Night asked, nodding at my insignia. “That is certainly reason to celebrate, yet you look so melancholy.”

I bit my lip. Even after speaking with Sundiver, Sirocco, and Windshear, I still felt guilty about the fallout from the second attack on Epsilon. “’Tis… difficult, to talk about,” I said evasively.

Whilst Tailwind and Wind Whistler looked confused, Silent Night regarded me with a look of great understanding and sympathy. “The first time you take a life always is,” she replied in a low tone.

Everypony stared at her in shock, myself most of all. “How…?” I asked, unable to complete the question.

“Fly with me, Firefly,” she invited, nodding to the big balcony outside the living room, opening the door for me. “There are things for us to discuss. Tailwind and Wind Whistler, I ask that you both stay behind and clean up the table. What I now say will be for her ears alone.”

* * * * *

“So…” I began tentatively as we took flight into the cold and starry night, the Mare in The Moon illuminating us as we passed weather teams assembling snow clouds to make the holiday white. “You have seen action then?” I asked as we passed out of earshot.

She gave me a sad smile. “I may no longer be on active duty, but I am still a mare of the Corps,” she replied as we found a higher cloud to light on, the cold not bothering us even though our breath instantly crystallized, glittering softly in the moonlight. “Moreover, I was and still am a Black Lance; we specialize in infiltration, espionage… and assassination. ’Tis a dirty business, Firefly, and one the Princess herself frowns upon, though even she understands its need. ’Tis not for the faint of heart. Nor is the military in general,” she said, looking out over the lights of the town. “Though some only find that out the first time they are forced to take a life.”

I nodded slowly, reflecting that of all the ponies present, Silent Night was indeed the most likely to know my pain. Tailwind may have flown with the Navy until his accident, but the Navy hardly ever engaged in combat anymore. “What… what was your first time like?” I asked, haltingly. ’Twas certainly an intrusive question, but I needed to know.

Silent Night closed her eyes, as though reliving a difficult memory. “’Twas a bitter and painful experience for me,” she admitted. “In truth, I envy those like you who take lives in the heat of battle. The adrenaline and anonymity of your kills dulls the shock significantly, or so I hear,” she chuckled bitterly. “Being in the Lances, I’ve never had that luxury. Most of my kills are very… personal.

“But to answer your question, I first soiled my hooves with the blood of a gryphon legate. He’d been commanding a skirmish operation to harry our border outposts and drive off settlers, though naturally the gryphons denied everything. So orders came down to eliminate both him and the force he led after we lost forty ponies, both civilian and military, over six months to the ambushes he orchestrated.

“Thus, after extensive planning, my squad crossed the border one stormy night, found his base, took out the sentries with poison darts, and whilst my squadmates went through the barracks to deliver death to his sleeping soldiers... I snuck into his tent whilst he slept, and then slew him with his own blade, as per my orders, leaving it stuck in his throat and a black lance stabbed through his unit flag as a warning to his masters.”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before she went on. “I confess… I very nearly lost my nerve before I did so. To take a life in cold blood like that ’tis many times more difficult than in the heat of battle.”

I swallowed nervously to hear such a gruesome tale so casually told. “What, then, caused you to go through with it?”

Her eyes went ice cold, and for just a moment she truly looked like an assassin; ’twas all I could do not to flinch from her gaze. “The knowledge that by doing so I was ultimately saving pony lives by ending these raids and serving notice to the gryphons that we, too, could play their game; that our reach was long and their atrocities would not go unpunished. But in truth, there was one other motivation I had.”

Her gaze fell back on her home, now far below. “My future husband had just asked me to dinner the following week. And when I pictured his smile, imagined his hoof holding mine…” Her eyes softened. “I thought perchance it might one day be his life I was saving. That there would be one less gryphon to threaten the pony I held dearest to me. And that ’tis what gave me the courage to strike.” She nodded slowly and then gained a wry look.

“It did not, however, stop me from becoming sick to my stomach the moment I got back to base. And it left me so distraught ’twas weeks before I was able to carry out my duties again.”

“’Tis a common thing, then?” I asked without thinking. “To become ill after taking a life?”

She nodded gravely. “I confess it is. Methinks I know of no pony who ever managed to hold their stomach in after the fact. ’Tis a shock to us; we are a peaceful race by nature, so to take another life is to run counter to our very being and all notion of Harmony.”

It made sense, I realized; ponies, as a species, were generally peaceful and predisposed to help others. To have to consciously make the choice to slay another being who was but sleeping before you… “Methinks I know your meaning,” I said with a nod. “But please tell me—did it ever get easier for you?”

She bowed her head again and exhaled heavily. “It brings me no joy to say that over time, it did. I take no pride in that fact, Firefly, but I know ’twas necessary for my work. For the work itself is necessary, and thus those of us who carry it out must be able to kill without compunction.

“’Tis necessary because there are enemies out there who wish us ill, those whom notions of friendship and Harmony hold no sway. Enemies who would take all we hold dear and destroy our way of life. Enemies who must meet with either a swift and silent end at the hooves of the Black Lances, or fall to the wingblades of the regular Corps pegasi in battle.

“’Tis cliche, but ’tis still true—we fight and kill so that other ponies may live in peace and freedom. Remember that and you will find it in your heart to forgive yourself, as I did. So be at peace, young warrior.” She laid a hoof on my cheek and smiled sadly.

“Know that you are not alone, and what you are now experiencing is something through which all soldiers must pass. It will unquestionably change you. But it will not end you any more than it did me. And it does not make you a bad pony,” she promised me.

“If you are still uncertain, consider this: I am a Black Lance, yes. But also a mother and lover; a chef and a friend. My actions as the former did not preclude any of the latter, nor will it for you. The guise of the warrior is but a mask I don when needed, and there is no reason you cannot do the same. Know that I see honor and nobility in you, and methinks finally understand what Wind Whistler saw in you all those years. You are a fine young mare, one any mother would love to have as a daughter,” she finished, almost wistfully. “And you are forever welcome in our home and my dear Whistler’s life.”

I sensed some hidden meaning in her words, but I hugged her hard all the same.

* * * * *

We returned to their home ten minutes later, arriving just as snow began to fall. “Is all well?” a worried Wind Whistler asked, cleaning up the table along with Tailwind.

I nodded and smiled, my heart feeling a warmth it hadn’t in some time. “All is well, my friend,” I promised.

“We had a long talk, Whistler. About military life,” was all Silent Night would say. “There were simply some things Firefly needed to hear… about topics not suitable for a Hearth’s Warming Eve dinner, my daughter,” she added with an arched eyeridge, a note in her voice warning my friend not to press the matter further.

“I see,” Wind Whistler said, having read between the lines quite quickly. “Well, this but makes my choice all the more certain.”

I blinked and looked at her. “Choice? Whatever do you mean?”

She smiled and her parents did too. “I have made a great decision, my friend,” she said, beaming. “My application has gone through; at the next class cycle, I will enter basic training for the Armored Guard.”

Far from being pleased, my jaw dropped open. “Are you mad?!” I sputtered, completely losing my composure whilst her parents looked on in pride. “Being a Guardsmare has proven to me that I was anything but ready for this life! And ’tis certainly no place for a maker of whistles and wind chimes !” I put my hoof down.

She shook her head sharply. “My place is with you, Firefly. And I will not allow you to face these demons alone,” my friend replied firmly. “I swear before Celestia and the sun itself that I will do whatever it takes to join the Guard, and be by your side again!” she proclaimed, standing tall before me.

“But… but… the training! Basic is brutal! And Sergeant Major Windshear will…” I trailed off at the smile and raised hoof of Silent Night.

“She’ll be ready for what she faces, Firefly,” the reserve Black Lance mare promised me, a gleam in her eyes. “I’ll train her myself to make sure she is.”

I confess, I was having trouble deciding on my emotions at the time. Shock, anger, confusion, all rolled together to attempt to disorient me. Yet, out of the tangled web of feelings emerged one altogether different from the mass: happiness. I was honestly touched by the gesture from my dearest friend. Still, I couldn’t accept it just yet. “Whistler… why? You have a business here; a successful one at that. You live comfortably and are making a name for yourself. Why wouldst you throw it all by the wayside just for my sake?”

She gave me a knowing smile, and somehow, I knew what she would say before she said it: “Is that not what friends do?”

Before I could answer, Tailwind spoke up. “Indeed, ’tis certainly a mark of friendship to stand by each other in times of need. And the two of you have always done that.” He got up and went over to a cabinet, from which he drew out a single scroll. “Yet ’tis also clear to us now the relationship between you two runs deeper than mere friendship.”

Both Wind Whistler and I blinked. “What are you saying?” I asked, echoed by my friend.

His smile got broader. “Wind Whistler has often told us that she thinks of you as a sister in all but blood, Firefly.” He unrolled the parchment on the table before me. “And Silent Night and I have decided to give you a chance to make that statement more than mere sentiment.”

I looked over the scroll, eyes widening as I read it, staggering back as I considered the implications. “Is this… am I… dreaming?” I choked out, my emotions running wild once more. Beside me, Wind Whistler looked equally stunned, tears in her eyes.

Silent Night stood by her husband. “’Tis no dream, Firefly. This is an invitation, from us to you. An invitation into our family. All you need do is sign, and we will adopt you as our second daughter. And thus, in not just her eyes but the eyes of all Equestria, you will become Wind Whistler’s sister.”

Losing all military bearing, I threw my forelegs around them, sobbing in joy, and was shortly joined by Wind Whistler as they hugged us back. Tailwind then spoke for both my new parents, saying the words I can remember clearly to this day:

“Happy Hearth’s Warming… our dear daughters.”

Sisters in All but Blood

Author's Note

A Hearth’s Warming Eve chapter for Christmas Eve... certainly appropriate to the occasion. And if you listen to no other music in this chapter, listen to the song at the end. It’s quite appropriate, especially if you know my other works. :twilightsmile:

This chapter marks the end of the first real phase of the story. No battle scenes here, but plenty more are coming. And for those of you now curious, there will be bonus chapters describing the first fights of Windshear and Silent Night, which they only touched on here. They require a whole chapter to tell, so I didn’t want to include them here. And fear not—the Black Lances and Silent Night will certainly be heard from over the course of this story.

Thanks as always to my prereading crew—AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, and SilentWoodFire. Thanks to James CyberLink for the bulk of the music selections, and to Leo Archon for the idea of the ending song and for writing a lot of the dinner scene.

Nothing else to say, except... Happy Hearth’s Warming!

Part 10 - The Gathering Storm

I came to terms with my first kill fairly quickly. ’Twas fortunate that I did, for as it turned out, I would be tested again all too soon. Silent Night had told me that the guise of the warrior was but a mask donned when needed, and I took her advice to heart, finding that despite my earlier actions I could indeed still be a sister, a friend… and even just a pub-drinking pony again.

In the end, the biggest lesson I learned from my leave is that life goes on, and you can indeed smile again, though I had no idea then of the storm clouds that were already starting to gather. War was but eight months away, but it never seemed so distant as when I was with Wind Whistler, just being her friend and sister.

Enemy Mind

The pony holiday of Hearth’s Warming was but another day of work and preparation at Raptor Base, located on the border canyon opposite the Equestrian Outpost Gamma.

As Gryphons, we hardly cared about the Equestrian calendar except insofar as we could plan operations to take advantage of it, though we could understand well enough the idea of celebrating unity after our own feudal and fractured past.

The Consul rarely took holidays, so neither did I, though in truth, leave never interested me. As a Talaeus, my place was either on a training field or at the Consul’s side. Having no family of my own, and considering very few other gryphons peers even amongst the other Red Talons, I also did not have any real interest in eaglesses. My combat abilities being so far above them, mating rounds were just never stimulating to me.

’Twas a lot in life I’d accepted, that I simply had no equal. At least not among other gryphons, but the elements of nature were another matter.

I’d heard that ponies liked to mark their winter holidays with snowfall. As far as I was concerned, they were welcome to it. A storm had roared up the coast the previous night and had cut off most flight and shipping into Cirrus Cassida through brutal blizzard conditions; in my darker and more suspicious moments I wondered if the ponies had somehow stirred it up. But as a tempest of that size would take a thousand pegasi a day and their entire yearly supply of storm clouds to generate, it could be safely discounted, reminding us that our world itself remained the biggest weathermaker of all.

Such thoughts, however, were lost as my commander received a message and frowned. “My lord?” I prompted, long experience as his adjutant telling me he was reading something troubling.

“A minor complication, Centurion Kaval,” Gaius replied as he read over the scroll a second time. “’Twould appear that we did not give the ponies enough credit. ’Twould seem they kept a young raider hidden from us and have been interrogating him right under our noses at their Gamma Base.”

He showed me a scroll that had just been passed to him bearing the seal of the Office of Owls, an organization responsible for maintaining the Imperial spy network and keeping us apprised of Equestrian operations. That he would even show it to me was a sign of his trust; normally a mere bodyguard, even a Talaeus, would not be so privileged.

I read over it swiftly. “So they have a fifteen-year old fledgling. Is that a problem?” I asked earnestly. “Traitor though he may be, ’tis unlikely he knows anything of value.”

“’Tis possible he may have visited the facility we used to temporarily hold captured ponies.” The Consul used as bland a term as possible for what we were doing there, in case by some stretch the Equestrian Intelligence Service was listening in through their favorite dogs; one of the few pony units worthy of wariness—the Black Lances.

His Consul stateroom back at Cirrus Cassada was secure against such things, but his Legate office at Raptor Base somewhat less so given the closer proximity to the ponies. Even so, ’twas hardly likely, but with preparations reaching a critical phase, one couldn’t be too careful.

“That would hardly be cause for concern,” I played along, though inwardly I understood the import of the potential leak well. “’Twas merely a holding area. What could he tell them? And why would that even interest them?”

The Consul arched an eyeridge at me, the candle on his desk flickering in the icy drafts that leaked in around the edges of the door. “Perchance you are right. And yet…” he tapped his talons on his stone desk, considering the possibilities. “If they are holding him, ’twould be because they believe he knows something. And by now, ’tis quite possible he has told them,” he mused.

“Even if he has, there is no danger of it. There is nothing there,” I reminded him, and ’twas the truth—we had cleaned out the facility once we’d lost the raider group.

“We have seen the Lances and their EIS masters follow breadcrumb trails before,” he reminded me in turn, “and several past operations have been compromised by it. If nothing else, ’tis possible he saw some of our agents there, who could then be identified and targeted.

“No, my friend, I believe this is one instance ’tis better to be safe than sorry,” he decided, writing out a quick note on parchment. He showed it to me before rolling it up and sealing it, passing it to me to deliver personally. “I will make arrangements from this end. You know what to do.”

“It will be done,” I saluted and bared my throat to him. Taking my leave, I flew out into the bitter storm around me, the driving snow quickly turning my black-dyed feathers white again.

Peaceful Prayer

My weeklong leave passed quickly, and in very good company.

Overjoyed at our newly-official sisterhood, Wind Whistler and I spent the entire night of Hearth’s Warming Eve cuddled together in her bed, talking, snuggling and occasionally sniffling in her old room at her parents’ home. Some additional gifts were exchanged on Hearth’s Warming Day, but they were nothing compared to the one I’d already received.

I felt some dismay that I had nothing to offer them in return, until Silent Night reminded me that becoming their daughter and helping make Wind Whistler happy was gift enough.

We attended a Hearth’s Warming Pageant in town that night, and then went to a military ball at the rather opulent officers’ club outside of Fort Spur. Dressed in my formal attire with my medals and new rank prominent, I quickly became the center of attention again, with many nobles and Guardspony veterans wanting to meet me.

Though a little uncomfortable at the scrutiny, I accepted their acclaim with all the grace I could muster, pointedly declining a challenge from at least one drunken stallion who said I ‘hadn’t earned my stripes’ on the grounds that our holiest holiday wasn’t the time for it. When he would not leave me alone, he got hustled off by more sober Guardsponies, and I later learned he cooled his hooves in a holding cell at Fort Spur.

Hearth’s Warming over, I enjoyed the chance to just spend time with Wind Whistler and her parents again. Admittedly, it felt good to be out of my armor for a bit and live as a civilian once more, visiting old haunts with my dear friend and now-sister. The events of Epsilon grew more distant in my memory, and I felt myself starting to smile anew as we hit pubs and headed out into the snow to play our old training games, which had taken new meaning with the revelation that Wind Whistler was going to be starting Guardspony training herself.

I gave her some basic drills and lessons, testing her raw flying and combat ability. She was certainly stronger and swifter than the average pegasus mare, but that was probably more due to our foalhood play than anything else—she’d simply had to get quite fit to keep up with me and be my sparring partner. I knew she wasn’t bad in a fight, having been in a few bar brawls with her over the years. She tended to be quite cerebral about it, same as she was for everything else.

Whilst she didn’t have my raw strength or fighting gifts, her talent was analyzing opponent fighting styles and tailoring her responses to it. She tended not to throw a punch until she’d figured out what you wouldst do, at which point she could put you down quickly.

I should know. Growing up, she’d done it to me a few times when I’d gotten a bit too cocky and full of myself.

So the potential was there—then again, it could hardly not be given who her mother was. Nevertheless, she had a long way to go—her stamina was poor and reaction times slow, and she could hardly wait to analyze enemy fighting styles during an actual battle. I sensed she needed a lot of conditioning work and sparring practice before she’d be ready for basic, a point I made clear to her repeatedly.

“They will try to wash you out quickly,” I warned her. “They will run you into the ground and heap abuse upon you in an effort to break your body and spirit, for if you cannot take the training, you cannot keep up in combat. And the Sergeant Major will not care that you’re my friend. He will demand you prove yourself worthy of not just the Guard, but of him.”

Despite my words, she never wavered in her determination to go through with it; her mother promising me that she would begin training Wind Whistler in earnest after my leave was up. She further invited me to spend as much time with her daughter as possible before departing, since once she went into basic, she would not emerge for six months…

Unless, of course, she was forced to quit. I had a very real fear that she simply wasn’t the equal of the task. After all, even I had barely made it through, and been in far better shape to start physically. I thought of trying to convince her to go for the Aerial Corps instead, but ultimately decided against it. For in the end, she was every bit as stubborn and dedicated as I was when she set her mind on something.

For in the end, she was dedicated to our friendship, and to me.

Change of Command

Just two days after a rousing New Year’s Eve celebration at the Aching Drum, one that found me the toast of the pub and enjoying the simple pleasure of a barroom brawl again (A longstanding Aching Drum tradition), I found myself in uniform and back at Epsilon once more. The base seemed different to me now, and not just for all the fresh construction sites; the new buildings were already well-along in my absence.

I was met at the transport gate by Sundiver and Sirocco, who appraised me cautiously as I stepped off. I saluted the latter, then the former, announcing I was rested and ready to assume command. Surprised but pleased at my change in demeanor, they invited me back to Sundiver’s now-former stateroom for a late lunch and a long chat about things.

I told them briefly what had happened over my leave, touching on my talks with the Sergeant Major and Silent Night. I was somewhat shocked when they recognized the name of the latter, whom I would later learn had launched several operations along with her Black Lance team out of Gamma. “Then… you are now her daughter?” Sirocco asked in surprise.

“And her daughter is now my sister,” I closed my eyes and smiled; my heart full of warmth again. The pair smiled in response, apparently convinced my change of heart was real, and thus we got down to the business of how I would run the base.

There was plenty to cover, not the least of which were the sheaths of documents and procedures that commanders had to know, now changed in the aftermath of the two raids. The gryphons had apparently been lying quite low since the earlier attack, but they now had a large exercise planned when the latest storm blew over, and we would be monitoring it closely. “And there is something else, Firefly. We wish to transfer a… guest… to your custody for a day or two, believing he will be safer here,” Sirocco offered cautiously.

“Guest?” My eyeridges raised. “And safer from what?” I didn’t like the sudden coyness in the Captain’s voice.

She looked less than pleased herself. “For now, I cannot say. But I promise all will be revealed shortly,” she told me, sensing my unhappiness. “In the meantime, let us now discuss more pleasant matters—including tomorrow’s change of command ceremony…”

* * * * *

I barely slept my first night back at Epsilon.

I’d been given Sundiver’s former quarters, of course, as was due me as base commander. Despite the damage to the building, it had survived the raid relatively intact except for a broken window or two. His bed was certainly more comfortable than the average bunk, but it still felt like I was sleeping in somepony else’s bed. ’Twas also no help that the room felt quite empty and uncomfortable for now being bare of belongings, Sundiver already having packed his up.

He’d had a few pictures and possessions he kept here and there, souvenirs of his career in the Corps, whilst I had nothing but a rucksack full of uniforms normally kept in a storage gem. Unable to sleep, I got up and read through all the new documents again whilst sitting behind Sundiver’s stateroom desk, thinking of how strange it felt for me to be there.

When that got old, I went outside to stretch my wings and took a long flight after stopping in at the observation tower to visit with Fell Flight. I asked her candidly if she and the other Corps veterans were okay with my rapid ascension in rank; she replied that though she’d heard some grumbling from those who hadn’t been present for the battles, most were.

“And for those who are not, just give them the same treatment you gave me that first day, and they should come around quickly,” she told me with a slightly wan grin.

“And you?” I followed up, knowing I needed her support for my new role. “Do you accept me now being your equal in rank, after but a single battle and such a short time?”

She hesitated, but only briefly. Her slitted eyes looked out over the canyon as she spoke; I swore her normally green pupils had turned a more yellowish hue in the moonlight. “’Twould be a lie to not say it feels a bit unfair, commander. But ’twould also be a lie to say that you had not earned it.” She punctuated her statement with a salute.

“I have served under many leaders, not all of whom deserved the post they held. But I can truthfully say that you do—that I have never seen a more natural leader or warrior than you, ma’am. You have more than proven yourself in my eyes, and I would happily follow and aid you where I can.”

“’Tis appreciated greatly.” I bowed my head, praying I would yet be worthy of such high praise from the veteran SFC. “Wouldst you be willing to stay on as my second, then? I need your command experience and rapport with the veterans to make this base work.”

Her only reply was to stand at attention and salute again.

* * * * *

Another cold sunup found us readying for a new ceremony, though this would be a far less unhappy affair.

The entire Epsilon garrison, now two hundred strong, stood in ranks before me, in full battle dress and wingblade harnesses as an improvised band—I was surprised to learn that our newly assigned Swheatish earth pony maintenance team played various musical instruments—belted out a martial melody.

When the song was done, First Lieutenant Sundiver and I faced each other, dressed for battle like the rest as Captain Sirocco stood between us, reciting the formal Change of Command notice from the scroll. She read off Sundiver’s long citation list from his ten years at the base, thanking him for his service before officially naming me as the new commander of Outpost Epsilon.

She then went off script a bit. “Some may question this appointment, or her rapid rise in rank. Be assured that this decision was not made lightly, and was the proper reward for service rendered. Those of you who disagree… will answer to me,” she finished somewhat ominously, causing a smile to briefly crack the face of the stone-faced Sundiver.

When she was done, the Equestrian national anthem was played. When ’twas finished, Sundiver and I stepped forward and saluted simultaneously, just as we’d rehearsed the previous day. Then we took one step forward and he gave me the Epsilon banner, in effect passing the flag to me.

“First Lieutenant Sundiver, I relieve you,” I gave the ritual line as I stepped back, holding the banner upright where it waved in the wind

“Sergeant First Class Firefly, I stand relieved,” Sundiver gave the ritual acknowledgement as we exchanged a final salute, then he turned on his heels to face the Captain. “Ma’am, I am properly relieved!” he announced and saluted her in turn.

I quickly followed suit. “Ma’am, I assume the watch!”

“And may it be vigilant but peaceful,” she told me, returning our salutes. The Aerial Corps and Royal Guard anthems were then played to conclude the ceremony; the entire battalion standing at attention and saluting throughout them.

Distorted Communications

The Consul was quite angry.

He was always very reserved with his emotions, but you could sense what he was feeling if you knew the subtle signs to look for. Slightly ruffled chest feathers and the slow tap of his talons on his stone desk was one sign. The latest dispatch he had received from the Office of Owls was another.

“They’re moving him, Centurion,” he told me, shoving the scroll at me with some disgust. “A day too soon.”

I frowned at the news. One did not simply walk into Gamma and assassinate a captive gryphon; such an operation took time to prepare, and in the meantime, we were keeping close watch on both the border and the old pony holding area the raiders used in case the Black Lances came sniffing.

So far we had seen nothing, but ’twas hardly a guarantee—the accursed pets of the Equestrian Intelligence Service had a wide range of skills and magical artifacts they could draw upon for stealth. ‘Twas certain they had escaped detection before; the Owls still spoke in hushed tones about how they had once laid waste to a Legate and his entire command.

“A complication, to be sure,” I agreed as I scanned the document, my mind turning. ’Twas too late to intercept him in flight, but perchance it could still work to our advantage. “But they also know where he’s being taken. A less-protected base,” I pointed out.

“A more alert base,” he corrected me. “Their eyes will be extra sharp there so soon after the raids. No, my friend, I fear this operation has just gotten considerably more complicated.”

“If the risk is too great, we could just let him go,” I suggested again. “’Tis still unlikely he could tell them anything of value.”

“If they believed that, they would not still be holding him,” the Consul immediately countered. “I fear he does know something, and they would hardly be keeping him so close to the border if they didn’t hope to use him somehow—perchance to identify an Owl agent at the base site,” he told me, and as I thought about it, I realized he was correct. “So regardless of their reasons, he must die.”

“The Ravens have already been dispatched,” I informed him. “Whether Gamma or Epsilon, they will follow and find him. And their request…?” I tapped the bottom of the scroll.

The Consol didn’t reply right away. Instead of answering, he exited to his office balcony to look out over the sprawling base, as he so oft did when he was facing a difficult question. “Tis a great gamble,” he told me at some length in a prize understatement. “We did not want to use them so soon. But if it works, ‘twould prove this project a success and be untraceable to us.

“The ponies would simply believe that one of their own had killed him out of vengeance and grief, and be none the wiser that ’twas not a natural act,” he further mused, weighing the risk of exposure against that of allowing the young tiercel to live another day.

“The Owls promise it will work. And certainly, they have good reason to say so. We have already gotten excellent intelligence thanks to their new pets. It’s how we know where our quarry will now be,” I noted.

The Consul considered that. “Methinks you are correct,” he acknowledged. “So be it. Give the order,” he told me, adding a quick note and signature to the bottom, rolling the scroll back up and putting his magical seal on it. It would destroy the scroll if anyone but the recipient with the counterpart unsealing spell tried to open it.

“It shall be done,” I saluted and bared my neck to him, leaving immediately to deliver the message.

I spent the entire afternoon in my office interviewing my NCOs, both old and new.

I was trying to get a sense of the ponies under my command, and if any were going to take issue with my assuming it. Despite Fell Flight’s assurance, I was certain there were some out there who were likely to cause trouble.

After all, given how headstrong I used to be, I most likely would have myself were the situations reversed and I was but a year younger. The biggest surprise, however, came not from the newly arrived Corps soldiers, but from a very familiar friend.

“Ma’am, I… I feel I owe you an apology,” Corporal Blindside began before I had even invited her to sit down, standing at rigid attention before me. I’d noticed before she seemed to be avoiding me since I’d returned, glancing at me and then averting her gaze, but with everything else happening, ’twasn’t something I could look into.

I gave her an odd look at her statement and demeanor. “An apology? Why?”

She hesitated, then took the plunge. “For forcing you to save me. ’Twas inexcusable what happened,” she went downcast, wetness suddenly apparent in her good eye. “I was lost in bloodlust, blinded by my rage and should have sensed her. And were it not for my anger, I would unquestionably have,” she explained, and I believed her—despite her bad eye, she had an uncanny sense of her surroundings and was almost impossible to land a blow on; she’d effortlessly dodged darts and bolas during the first raid and even I had a great deal of trouble tagging her during our training spars.

“’Tis my fault you were put through that ordeal, and I am truly sorry for it. ’Tis now clear to me you were not ready to kill, but I forced you to do so. So please accept my apology, and my request for reassignment.” She passed a scroll to me, her voice now trembling along with her legs.

’Tis no exaggeration to say I was taken aback, and ’twas some seconds before I could form a reply. “No, my friend,” I smiled wanly. “’Twas nopony’s fault but the gryphons. ’Twas a trial I needed to face, and delaying it might only have made it worse. It had to happen sometime, and whether or not it had to be then, I am eternally grateful that doing so meant I was able to save you,” I told her, seeing her visible eye go wide.

“You are my friend, Blindside. That means a great deal to me, as I hope it does to you. I would not stand in your way if you still wish to leave, but I would ask that you stay. I do not hold what happened against you. We were all traumatized by the events of that night.”

Her jaw had trouble working for a moment. “I thank you for saying so, ma’am, but I… I do not wish to forever be a painful reminder.”

“Corporal, you are anything but!” I shook my head forcefully. “Methinks if you are a reminder of anything to me, ‘tis of that which is most worth fighting for—friendship,” I further told her, standing up and walking around my desk to face her. I then put my hooves on her shoulders, forcing her gaze to meet mine. “We are friends, Blindside. My new rank does not change that, nor does what happened that night in any way diminish it. Were our positions reversed, wouldst you have done no less for me?”

She nodded sharply, if somewhat jerkily. “Then please stay,” I asked her again, not as a commander to subordinate but as one friend to another. “’Twould mean a great deal to me… or was there another reason you wanted to leave?” I belatedly recognized, sensing from her evasive gaze there was.

She allowed me to see a moment of pain and fear on her face. “My blades spilled blood,” was all she would say at first, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I slew two. And it frightens me that at the time it happened… I enjoyed it.” She visibly shivered. “Ma’am… Firefly… please understand. I am… afraid of what will happen if I stay here. What I may do and feel. So my request is for a transfer to procurement and supply,” she motioned to the scroll again.

Understanding dawned on me. So that was it. She was trying to escape her guilt just as I had, except I’d gotten leave and she hadn’t. Except I’d been able to talk to others and she hadn’t. ’Twas hardly fair, now that I thought about it, so I made a mental note to arrange for all first-time combatants to take leave as soon as possible.

Hopefully then they might spend time with their loved ones and be reminded of why they fought, be able to make peace with themselves as I had. “Placing yourself in a rear area supply base would be a terrible waste of your talents, my friend,” I told her gently. “You wouldst not be happy there, and you wouldst not be able to come to terms with what happened, either.”

“But how does a pony come to terms with… this?” she asked me again, and this time she couldn’t hold back her tears. She began to sob, and I did the only thing I could think of; the very thing Sundiver had initially done for me:

I held her and let her cry on my shoulder.

Unwelcome Guests

I ended up staying an hour with Blindside, just talking with her, telling my later appointments I would come get them when the time came.

I tried to impart the wisdom I’d gained over my own leave, telling her about the talks I’d had and the resolution I had reached. She seemed, if not convinced, at least more thoughtful afterwards. I left the question of her transfer open, telling her to take a week’s leave to think it through and then decide. She perked up at the suggestion, looking genuinely eager at the idea of seeing her mother in Cloudsdale again.

My first day of command nearly done, I went for dinner, declining the option to have it served in my stateroom—I would eat in the mess hall like everypony else. After a week of good eating with Wind Whistler and her parents, the canteen was certainly a step or three down, but there was little for it. I wondered again if it would be worth it to request an Equestrian Army unit be stationed at Epsilon, if only so the earth ponies could grow some fresh food.

After making my evening rounds, I received an encrypted message via courier. They still weren’t sending confidential messages over the crystal network, so I was forced to take it back to my quarters and decode it using a special key. The message informed me that our ‘guest’ and his escorts would be arriving in the wee hours of the morning via a scheduled supply shipment, and I was to meet them personally, telling nopony else about them.

I didn’t like being told what to do without explanation then any more than I did as a foal. Nevertheless, I followed orders. I still had no idea who was coming until the supply transport arrived, and off walked a cloaked Equestrian Army unicorn mare. She wore their usual chainmail armor as well as a longbow and quiver strapped to her back, and was accompanied by two other travelers. One was a single, rather nondescript Corps stallion in wingblades, but the other…

“You!” I gaped and then glared, recognizing the scrawny and manacled young gryphon instantly as the one Blindside had corralled at the end of the raid. He looked no more happy to see me than I was him, visibly cringing from my gaze. “Why have you brought him here?” I demanded to know, immediately turning my attention to the unicorn mare, who seemed to be running the show.

“’Tis not your concern,” the mare replied, interposing herself between me and the gryphon, whilst the other Corps stallion seemingly ignored me, keeping a close watch on the surround. I stared at her a moment, noting she but bore the rank of Sergeant, meaning she hardly had authority to order me about.

Her next words, however, made clear that she did. “My posting is but a cover, Commander. I am in fact Agent Artemis of the EIS. He will be here but for a day. We ask only that you keep him safe and not let word out of his presence.” She passed me an order slip detailing my responsibilities, signed by Sirocco herself.

The Equestrian Intelligence Service. Wonderful, was all I could think as I read it. I’d already heard stories about them from the veterans, and they were rarely happy ones, involving secretive and overbearing mares that ignored the chain of command and ordered ponies about like they were the Princess herself.

Keeping him safe was a tall order given many mares would wish to slay him on sight if given the chance, but orders were orders. “Fine,” I grated out. “As per your instructions, we have a holding cell available for him.”

“Methinks we will use your stateroom, commander,” she informed me blandly. “Tis more defensible and a place potential enemies are less likely to look. I hope you will not be too inconvenienced.”

I bit my tongue. “As you wish,” I nodded, leading them through the darkened hallways, wondering if Sundiver ever had to put up with this.

* * * * *

It felt decidedly odd smuggling a gryphon into my quarters.

For all the concealment magic that I assumed the EIS had available to it, we ended up using the simplest of tricks, throwing a blanket over his head as we led him down the deserted hallways, myself in the front and the Corps stallion bringing up the rear.

To be sure, We weren’t likely to run into any of my soldiers. My new battalion was in a pavilion tent outside, which was acting as their temporary barracks whilst the real ones were rebuilt. The earth pony workers had their own improvised quarters as well; they’d thrown up a series of temporary structures to house themselves in environs far superior to the average pegasus.

Then again, they couldn’t sleep on clouds, which in my experience was far more comfortable than any mattress or pillow. The gryphons, however, could; even if they couldn’t control the weather like pegasi, they could still walk on the clouds like any other winged species in our world. So I went outside and grabbed a patch of cloud, all but flinging it at him along with an old blanket.

“Thank… you…” he managed in heavily accented Equestrian like ’twas the first words of our language he’d learned, his voice tremor audible as he bared his neck at me in the gryphon gesture of submission. He was definitely scared and I was surprised to feel a brief moment of pity for him, though that quickly turned to disgust as Agent Artemis opened a box and gave him a fish out of it to eat.

I didn’t want to be there.

Methinks I really didn’t want to be there.

I wanted to be anywhere else but back at the base that was the source of my nightmares, in the presence of the mare who gave me some of them.

As I lay on that cloud and felt their eyes on me, discussing me in a language I had only barely started to pick up, I regretted my life, I regretted my choices, I regretted ever taking the invitation to join the raider group. ’Twas certain I would have been better off scavenging from the base refuse like I’d been doing before, or stealing the occasional fish off the piers.

But no, I had to be ambitious. I had to want to reach a better place. I had to have teenage dreams of glory that had now blown up in my face, leaving me the captive of my race’s enemy and facing a bleak future. For even if I could escape, returning to my homeland might well be a death sentence. Agent Artemis—I had finally learned her name—’twas right about that, no matter how badly I wished it otherwise.

Her interrogations had continued daily. She wanted names and faces from the holding base we took ponies; she wanted to know what had been inside that old structure. They cast memory spells on me so I could recall everything clearly, and then pulled images right out of my head using some very uncomfortable and invasive magic, trying to identify known Imperial agents.

I had prayed to my ancestors they wouldn’t be able to. Maybe then they’d let me go; I was planning to chance the far northern wilderness if they did, see if I could circle around the spell-guarded border by going to a place the border didn’t exist.

My hopes and prayers were in vain. From my memories, they identified two members of the Owls; the Empire’s feared spies and security service. Though I insisted that they’d only been there to pay us, and ’twas the truth as far as I knew, she eventually pried an admission out of me that they’d also given us the communication crystal replicas we’d used for our failed ruse, and that the ponies typically spent several hours behind closed doors in a restricted and soldier-guarded section there before being released for ransom. I’d had but one look inside that room, and one image that stuck with me…

That of an unconscious pony strapped to a table whilst another gryphon did something to him I couldn’t quite see.

And thus, they had now brought me here, for reasons I wasn’t clear on, but then again they only ever told me what they wanted me to hear. I was under no illusions about what the ponies thought of me or the reception that likely awaited me back in the Empire; every day I lived at that point was a blessing, uncertain though ’twas.

And truth be told, the ponies really weren’t treating me badly to that point. Once I agreed to talk, they treated my wounds and helped me sleep. They further tended me by feeding me fruit and fish, and I quickly found that even their basic bread was quite good; far softer and tastier than our typical scones. Even the Guardsmare Commander, though she clearly didn’t like me, saw to my comfort when she had every reason not to.

The thought stuck with me as I pulled up the blanket and settled onto the cloud she’d provided for me. Could it be the ponies were not so bad or beneath us as I’d been told…?

“His name is Gavian Ravenoff,” Agent Artemis told me as she magically restrung her bow, staring at the restlessly-sleeping young sky gryphon.

“I didn’t ask,” I replied, my annoyance at the obtuse mare growing. She didn’t answer the questions I had, only the ones I hadn’t.

“He’s had a rough life,” she noted as she experimentally drew the bow, frowned, and made another adjustment.

“Methinks my heart bleeds,” I rolled my eyes, sparing a glance at the Corps stallion standing guard outside the door. Whoever he was, he hadn’t said a word but was definitely listening and keeping very close watch on things. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. He certainly didn’t look like much, in fact seemed rather slight in build. He’d never have made it as a Guardspony, I was certain, and I couldn’t imagine he would be much of a bodyguard. So what was he doing here…?

The EIS agent looked over at me, bringing my attention back to her. “He’s an orphan, same as you.”

I admit that gave me some pause. “Methinks that’s hardly—”

“He also dreamt of being a great warrior,” she noted in a very offhoof manner, stowing her bow beside her.

I blinked—had she been studying up on me? “I’m sure most young gryphons do, just like most young pegasi.”

“He was living from trash heap to scrap pile—no friends, no hope. He stole to live and hated himself for it, but he had no choice—he was too young and small to hunt for himself,” the unicorn mare went on.

My jaw set as I finally recognized what she was doing. “If you’re trying to make me feel sympathy for him, don’t bother.”

She bothered anyway. “Then the raiders came. They promised him a home and food; gems and glory. Promised he could finally have everything he’d ever wanted for. But they never told him of the cost. That he’d be coming in at the bottom of the group hierarchy, little more than a sacrificial lamb to be thrown at us with no training. They also didn’t tell him he’d be the favorite toy of their eagless mistress, who greatly favored young tiercels.”

I did not need that image. “The choice to join was still his.”

“Twas the only choice he could make, Firefly,” she told me, breaking military protocol to call me by my real name. “The only choice that could even possibly lead from his previous Tartarus to somewhere better. You had an orphanage and a friend. He didn’t even have those,” she remarked, her voice growing somber, and this time I did not reply—though ’twas greatly troubling she knew these things about me, ’twas still the truth. “If his presence bothers you, you do not have to stay here,” she reminded me.

I gave her a look. “’Tis my quarters, and as per my orders, he is my responsibility. The watch is set, and barring an alarm, I am not needed until reveille, so I shall remain here,” I told her, bedding down on a cloud in my armor, my wingblade harness worn—we’d been ordered to remain on alert in advance of the gryphon exercise, and that meant extra patrol flights and even those off-duty keeping their gear at hoof.

“And in any event, this is my base, Agent Artemis. I have my orders, but that does not mean I will allow you to lead me around by the nose and dictate my actions. Your prisoner is your responsibility, but this base and all on it are mine. Is that understood?” I asked, a bare edge to my voice.

“As you wish,” she shrugged, pulling the blanket up over herself, her longbow and quiver at her side.

My eagle eyes snapped open at a scraping sound outside the window.

At first I wondered if the Agent or Commander was trying to use the latrine, but I heard them both breathing softly, still in sleep. Glancing around, I looked to the window to see… a pegasus pony climbing in the broken panes, trying but not quite succeeding from disturbing the glass shards that fell to the ground beneath with a light but distinct clatter.

‘Twas dark, but my night vision allowed me to see her quite clearly, for all the good it did me. With my wings and legs bound, I had no way to escape or defend myself, but even were it otherwise, I knew from the earlier raid I had no chance against the well-trained and blade-winged pegasus mares.

Realizing she’d been detected, the mare made a dash for me; I could just see the glint of her blades in the moonlight. Bound as I was, methinks I could do nothing but shriek a cub’s plea for help, emitting a sharp and high-pitched trill.

Thankfully, the Commander was sleeping lightly, already awoken by the tinkling glass to leap up from her cloud bed to slam her subordinate into a wall. She pinned her in place just as I heard arguing outside the door.

“”* I recognized the intruder’s demand from her tone, if not the language. “”* she proclaimed in a shrill voice, causing me to cower behind a nearby chair.

There was an exchange of words I didn’t recognize, followed quickly by the Commander angrily throwing her subordinate to the ground, demanding an explanation. She got one, and in clipped tones, Agent Artemis translated.

My would-be assailant was one of the ponies we’d captured; she had later lost good friends in our attack. She had no memory of her time in captivity but felt violated by it, saying she would avenge the ambush and her fallen friends on me.

The Commander’s reaction was one of disgust, stripping her of her rank on the spot and saying something into her red gem. Bare seconds later a new pony appeared, this one a larger pegasus mare whose cat-like eyes with slitted pupils made me start.

She started herself upon seeing me, but at the Commander’s voice, she listened. Her expression grew wrathful as she did so, and she commenced a rather vulgar dressing down of the mare—I’d at least learned to recognize a few Equestrian cursewords by then—hustling her off after her blades were confiscated.

The Commander then marched outside, where she found half a dozen more white-furred pegasi mares arguing with the stallion, all demanding my blood. She barked out orders and shoved back one mare trying to push past her, who retaliated with a curse and a wild swing of a wing. But the female Guardspony parried it instantly and countered with a hoofstriker to the head, knocking her assailant out with frightening ease.

Far from dissuaded, the remainder then rushed the door only to quickly regret it; within seconds all were on the ground, nursing bruises and moaning in pain. Surprisingly, the Commander had not taken out most of them, however—that honor belonged to the almost-forgotten Aerial Corps stallion, who moved with terrifying speed.

The Commander was visibly surprised, but still set about to clean up the mess, ordering her second to throw the bunch in the brig and set watch on the building with trusted soldiers. Giving me a look of contempt, the cat-eyed mare nonetheless did so without question. To my relief, she was loyal to her leader; far more so than the group that was being escorted away in chains.

The danger was past, or so it seemed, but it brought me no peace of mind. My heart was beating a league a minute the whole time, and I knew then I would have no more sleep that night.

“How did they know?” Artemis demanded an answer, now pacing back and forth before me. “Your orders were most explicit, Commander! You were to tell nopony we were coming here!”

“I told them nothing!” I all but hissed out the words. ‘Tis certain I remained quite agitated after the encounter, disturbed at the disloyalty of my soldiers. Even for what they had been through, all captives from the first raid, it seemed an extreme reaction. “Not even Fell Flight knew, and methinks she is less than pleased I didn’t tell her!”

The other mare clearly didn’t believe me, but there was nothing she could do about it for now. “’Tis too late to move him elsewhere. So we will simply have to secure him here, until…” she trailed off, catching herself.

“Until what?” I demanded to know.

She looked away. “You don’t need to—”

Methinks I’d had quite enough of her vagueness and cryptic statements. “You will tell me!” I rounded on her and threw her hard against a wall, in no mood for any of this after having to put down several of my own soldiers.

She ordered me to release her, pushing back with her aura, but quickly discovered it would take far more than her meager magic to budge me. “Everything that happens in my base is something I need to know! If you wish me to protect him, then I will know why!” I all but snarled at her, ignoring the entry of the stallion, who was watching me warily.

And for the first time, he spoke. “Ma’am… methinks she should know,” he said in a deep but quiet voice marked with a very distinct Trottingham accent. “I can protect our charge against single assassins. But not against the whole base.”

Artemis ignored him for the moment, focusing on me. “Let me go!” she ordered me again, and I felt an electrical current building up. It was centered on her glowing horn, meaning she was readying to loose a lightning bolt on me—’twas an arcane spell that wasn’t even supposed to be known any more, but apparently the EIS still taught it.

I smirked, steeling myself for what was coming. I could tell just by the static charge in the air around me that the bolt she was generating was far weaker than the ones the Magus could launch, and thus, I had no fear of it. “No. Not without answers!”

“Pity for you, I am not giving them!” She said triumphantly as she loosed her bolt with an earsplittingly sharp crack!, only to watch in shock as I deflected it, easily batting it aside with a single armored forehoof into the wall.

It left a scorch mark and blew out some plaster, but I cared less about that than seeing her smug expression vanish. For Agent Artemis had just learned what my special talent was, and how I’d earned my cutie mark so many years earlier.

I had an affinity for lightning, able to fire bolts from clouds with double the usual intensity and frequency—hence my two-bolt cutie mark. In fact, when I had a chance to ready myself, I could easily deflect any weaker bolt sent my way, meaning shock gems and stun spells weren’t a threat to me.

But there were limits to that ability; I hadn’t attempted it against the lightning-casting gryphon mage because their bolts were far stronger than I could safely deal with. I also needed a few seconds to prepare a deflection, and a life-or-death fight didn’t allow for that.

That wasn’t the extent of my talent, however. I could also sense electrical currents far more easily than the average pegasus, giving me an idea of where living beings were in proximity to me. This makes it very hard to surprise me, especially in a storm-charged atmosphere. ’Twas an ability I’d told nopony except Wind Whistler, who had helped me develop it, though it quickly took a backseat to practicing my regular combat skills.

I didn’t want to be a mere weather specialist after all; I wanted to be a warrior.

The intelligence agent went deathly pale under her coat, eyes widening as she saw my feat. “Apparently there was something you didn’t know about me!” My smirk got wider. “Last chance before I throw you in the brig for endangering my base! Now answer me—what is he here for?” I shook her hard.

“Ma’am?” the stallion prompted again, making no move against me. “Tell her.”

“Fine,” she granted in a flustered voice, glancing over at Gavian, who was cowering in the back. Methinks he was uncertain of what it all meant, and gravely worried of what would happen if he lost his pony patron’s protection.

“As we speak, there is an operation underway to investigate the site where your captured soldiers were taken. The Lances are already in Gryphon territory searching for it, and when they find it, we are taking him there. Among other things, methinks he can help us identify and capture the Gryphon agents who paid his group for the raids, allowing us to determine their true purpose in staging them.”

“True purpose?” I repeated derisively. “Methinks their true purpose was money. We paid a ransom for their return!” I reminded her with disgust.

“And methinks that was just a ruse!” she answered angrily, then abruptly her horn flashed bright, momentarily blinding me. I heard a popping sound and when my vision had cleared, she had teleported behind me and interposed herself between me and Gavian, levitating her longbow and notching an arrow, pointing it at me. “And until I have evidence, I will tell you no more. Now withdraw!” she ordered me, pulling back the string of her longbow another inch for emphasis.

“No.” I flared my wings and deployed my wingblades in response, answering her threat with my own. Not about to be ordered out of my own stateroom, I stayed put, daring her to fire, every muscle in my body ready to spring if she did. I might take an arrow, but she would go down hard. I had no desire to kill her, but for assaulting me and endangering my base, I would make sure she spent a few painful days in the infirmary.

Our standoff lasted for several interminably long seconds, until the Corps stallion stepped between us. ’Twas a common tactic stallions used to break up fights between mares, and it had its desired effect as we both stepped back instantly and lowered our weapons; instinctively not wishing to endanger a male.

“Ma’am… Commander… with respect, if the two of you fight, the only possible winners are on the other side of the canyon,” he said bluntly. “And methinks the Commander is in the right here, ma’am. This is her base, and EIS or no, you have not the authority to make her leave her own quarters.”

Artemis clearly wasn’t expecting this, as her jaw fell open slightly. “Are you standing against me, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike? Are you forgetting the importance of this—”

“I forget nothing,” the now-named Sky Sergeant broke in, “least of all how this Commander single-hoofedly saved her base with quick thinking and sound tactics. Nor have I forgotten that she stopped an assailant short by herself whilst you were sound asleep. She deserves far more respect than you have shown her this evening. So methinks if anypony needs to leave this room tonight… ’tis you, ma’am.”

I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “I thank you for your words of wisdom, Sky Sergeant,” I acknowledged with a quick salute, surprised to learn that despite his youthful appearance and simple corporal insignia, he was in fact two ranks above me. “You are more than welcome to stay. You, on the other hoof, may leave,” I added, waving a hoof dismissively at Artemis and then pointing out the door.

The EIS agent was turning purple under her coat. “You are in violation of your orders, Commander,” she grated out. “With regards to this prisoner, you were instructed to defer to me!”

“My orders, Sergeant, were to ensure the safety of a guest. And I will do so.” I told her, dripping contempt on her rank. “You may guard the door from outside if you wish, but as in my estimation your presence endangers rather than protects him, you are no longer welcome in my stateroom.”

She glared at me. “I shall take this up with your superiors, Guardsmare!”

“As shall I,” I promised, watching her make a brief statement explaining matters in Aeric to Gavian, then storm out in a huff, taking her bow and uniform cloak with her.

Raven Raid

I was right. I didn’t sleep a wink the rest of the night.

I kept half an eye open the whole time, watching the Guardsmare Commander as she studied scrolls at her desk, knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt she could break me in two if she wanted. I was also scarcely reassured by the presence of the white-furred, wingblade-wearing stallion, who seemed far more than he appeared. He stationed himself by the smashed window, watching over me from the corner, ready to take out any potential assassin, gryphon or pony who came through.

’Twould hardly make a difference, I thought. The entire base had to know I was there by now, and ’twas no doubt they all wanted me dead…

The better question at this point was, did my own side want me slain as well?

I would get the answer all too quickly as the horizon began to lighten; a cold dawn breaking over the canyon. The Guardsmare Commander—Firefly, I later learned her name—rubbed her eyes with a hoof before saying something to the stallion, who nodded.

At that moment, there was a muffled thump outside the door, just audible to my eagle ears. The two ponies heard it as well, their ears perking, instantly raising their heads and glancing at each other.

They had no chance to move before the wall suddenly blew in and a trio of grey-dyed gryphons burst through on the heels of a pair of thunder gems that left my eyes seeing spots and ears ringing; their crossbows notched and ready. Quickly spotting me, the one closest instantly took aim and tightened his talon down on the trigger.

RAVENS! I panicked, in what I believed to be my final moments. Among the Gryphon populace, the Ravens were spoken of in hushed whispers. They were a secret society of assassins in service to the Empire, one used by the Office of Owls to carry out all manner of ugly business. Masters of stealth and terrifyingly proficient at both spying and slaying, their presence meant my life was already over, as were those of my protectors.

But before my erstwhile assassin could fully pull the trigger, a blade thrown by the stallion impacted his shoulder, spinning him around with a pained squawk and causing his shot to go wild. I barely had enough time to register that unlikely feat when the slight stallion followed up with another, deflecting the retaliatory bolt fired at him by the middle Raven with a wingblade!

'Twas still certain to me that I was doomed, given that left the third Raven with a loaded crossbow, which she was now aiming at me. But this time, I was saved when the Commander leapt over the desk with her chair in hoof and flung it hard at the eagless, throwing off her shot and knocking her backwards when it splintered hard against her chest.

The unconventional but effective attack allowed the Guardsmare to charge. She cut down her surprised and off-balance assailant in a single smooth motion whilst parrying the hastily-drawn sword of the middle Raven with her other blade, only to be blinded by a flash gem that scorched her face. She was then knocked backwards into her desk by a powerful strike from the Raven's scimitar; one that severely scored her armor with an eruption of sparks that accompanied a painful screech of grinding metal.

My reprieve was once again short-lived as two more grey-dyed assassins then burst in at a hover, only to be quickly engaged by the stallion. A shock gem thrown at the ground beneath them caught them in a snare of searing sparks, causing their flight to falter and the pair to drop their crossbows.

Taking advantage of their brief paralysis, he immediately leapt forward to interpose himself between me and my assailants. Even as he moved to protect me, he launched another pair of throwing blades from a hidden pouch in his uniform, though only one found its mark, causing an eagless to shriek as it impaled her eye.

The other was blocked by a raised metal gauntlet as its owner faced off with the stallion in a contest of steel; the latter brandishing his wingblades whilst the former answered with his long and lethal scimitar. The Raven tiercel reared up and took a side stance, his blade grasped in both sets of talons from over his right shoulder and held diagonally across his chest; its tip pointed at his enemy.

He snarled something in Equish at the stallion, who responded with a flared-wing stance of his own and a very calmly delivered three-word reply in Aeric—“We shall see.”—before launching himself at his Raven opponent, engaging him in a blindingly fast blade duel that was terrifying in its intensity.

Despite their gruesome wounds, the two injured assassins were regaining their senses, grabbing for their weapons as the Guardsmare Commander likewise pulled herself back up despite her burned and bleeding face. She dove to dodge another crossbow bolt from the Raven that nearly blinded her, and then upended her desk as a pair of explosive crystals was thrown at her, splintering it with their detonations.

Shielded by the furniture, the armored pegasus mare was unharmed and sent the remains of the desk rocketing towards her assailant with a single powerful buck, forcing the eagless earth gryphon to dive away.

Using it as a cover and a means to close, she blasted forward with a single powerful wingbeat and cut down the two wounded Ravens before they could reach me or load another bolt, decapitating one and slashing the throat of the other with stunning speed. She then turned her attention to the uninjured eagless, engaging her blade to blade as the stallion had with his opponent.

Methinks I had barely started to hope I might yet survive given the skill of my protectors, but to my horror, the Raven was just as quick, rearing up to expertly parry the Guardmare’s wingblades with dual-wielded scimitars. Sparks flew from the rapid impacts of metal on metal as the pair twisted and turned in flight around each other despite the close quarters, neither able to land a finishing blow.

The stalemate lasted until the stallion took out his opponent with phenomenal skill, cutting off the Raven’s sword arm with his right wingblade whilst spinning to slash the tiercel’s throat with his left, all in a single fluid move almost too fast to follow. The odds now against her and her mission at risk of failure, the final remaining Raven leapt backwards from the armored mare, abandoning all pretense of stealth and subtlety to drop her swords and throw every crystal she had at us.

I screamed as the explosive gems detonated, covering my head in what I knew would be a useless gesture, only to realize I was unharmed. Shaking, I looked up to see… a translucent shield surrounding me and my protectors as the last Raven fell lifeless with an arrow through her heart.

The longbow that slew her fell to the floor with a clatter along with a gravely wounded Agent Artemis, who slumped down and passed out in the doorway she’d fired from. I only realized her state when her shield flickered out and a pool of blood formed beneath her barrel; its source being a crossbow bolt that had penetrated her chainmail and shattered her shoulder.

All then fell silent except for ragged breathing, distant shouts of rousted ponies, and the sound of my own squawking sobs. The terror and violence of the last few seconds finally catching up with me fully, I fainted hard, uncertain if I would ever awake again.

Author's Note

Shit just got real, folks, and will only get more real from here. And with this chapter, you've now met all seven founding members of the Bolt Knights. I don't think I need say who it is.

Thanks to James CyberLink for the music, Leo Archon for helping write the action sequences, and AJ_Aficionado and SilentWoodFire for the prereads.

Part 11 - Breaking Point

Friendship.

’Tis a concept we ponies revere, from which, ‘tis said, all magic and Harmony flows. But what did it really mean? ‘Twas it truly for all beings, or reserved for Equestrians alone?

Could it be offered to others, even our greatest foes? Or was doing so a foalish act that would only backfire badly? I would get a surprising answer to that question from the unlikeliest of sources, in a choice I made that would echo down the course of the coming war.

Raise The Sun

“My Princess,” High Chancellor North Star bowed to me not long after I had risen from bed and in turn, raised the sun. “I fear I must be the bearer of bad news again. There has been another gryphon attack on Outpost Epsilon.”

I looked up at her sharply. I had assumed the heavy losses the gryphons had suffered in the last raid had meant they would respect the border for a bit, but it would seem that assumption was in error. I sighed as I placed the sun in the heavens, turning to face her. “How many dead this time?”

“Six, My Princess.” She gave me a solemn bow. “’Twould seem that they sent assassins after a young gryphon held there, and then tried to slay their way to him. One was captured alive,” she summarized as she passed a report scroll to me.

I scanned it quickly and frowned. “I authorized no operation into Imperial territory, North Star,” I noted mildly, deciding I was going to have to have a chat with Daggermind, the head of the EIS before long as he was taking a few too many liberties of late. “Let alone holding a young gryphon prisoner.”

“The EIS feels that he knows something important, My Princess. Something the gryphons do not want us to know. And the fact that they attempted to kill him would seem to confirm that,” she offered cautiously, knowing my less-than-favorable feelings towards the Equestrian Intelligence Service and their Black Lance servants.

I sighed heavily. “’Tis true…” I acknowledged the logic’s validity. The EIS and Lances were, at best, a necessary evil to me, though there was no denying their utility in these troubled times. Still, I did not like the idea of spies, saboteurs and assassins in my service. They were the antithesis of Friendship and Harmony, and I pined for the day that such agencies would no longer be needed.

Such a day never seemed so far away as today, however. “My Princess? Captain Sirocco and the service heads are requesting permission to retaliate… using the option discussed after the last raid,” North Star added, passing a fresh scroll to me. “They believe that such an overwhelming strike is our best option to discourage future attacks.”

I read it and sighed, suddenly feeling all my eleven hundred years of life. I had fought wars before; I had killed ponies and members of other races during them, even been forced to banish my own sister. There had been times I had lost my way and very sanity, and yet, somehow… this only got harder as I went.

The longer I lived, the more I realized how ephemeral and fleeting life truly was for most beings, and how precious it was for it. I had no wish to fight another war; the brutal battles with my sister’s Army of the Night still fresh in my memory even after three hundred years. And yet, I also knew from long experience that the gryphons only respected force. That proportional response had not worked in the past and not responding at all only invited more mischief. Yet more death and violence that would be visited on my beloved ponies.

I had ordered the Aerial Corps to stand down after the last raid, believing the losses the gryphons had suffered were punishment enough and taking their empress at her word that the border would be respected. Apparently not. Thus, I wrote the only reply I could, signing the document and affixing my seal to it. For though I did so reluctantly, when it came down to it, I also did not flinch from it. My ponies were my responsibility, and I would do anything to keep them safe.

“Tell the Captain the order is given,” I said sadly, dreaming of a day when I would never have to order the deaths of other beings again.

Aftermath

Dawn’s early light found myself in the infirmary, being treated by our healers; they were clucking over their base commander like so many hens, to my great annoyance. Despite all the blood, my wounds were mostly superficial; my enchanted Guardspony armor had protected me well.

Unfortunately, I could not say the same for others. The Ravens had slain six sentries before attempting to storm my stateroom, and I grudgingly admitted that had the Sky Sergeant and EIS agent not been there, I would most likely have been among them.

They had exposed a gap in my abilities; that of close-quarters combat involving multiple opponents. I unquestionably ruled the skies and believed I could defeat any number of enemies had I the space, but in the cramped confines of my stateroom, my aerial fighting abilities had counted for far less.

Against lesser foes, it didn’t matter, but against a group as skilled as the Ravens, it could have been fatal to both me and my charge. Worse, that one eagless had proved my equal in blades and very nearly had me twice; in truth, ’twas my experience in barroom brawling that had saved me rather than my combat training. It had taught me to instinctively take cover from flying projectiles and how to use my surroundings to my advantage; the practice I’d had flinging furniture and upending tables, diving behind them to dodge or deflect thrown bottles had served me well.

Despite all I had just been through, the observation brought a smile to my face. For who would have thought all the time I spent at the Aching Drum would one day save my life?

A quick potion took care of the bleeding in my mouth, and other salves treated the worst of my facial burns from the detonating flash gem. Methinks I’d been fortunate to not be blinded, saved only by recognizing the danger of a white gem from Sundiver’s briefings and squeezing my eyes tightly shut in time. At that point, I was pronounced fit to leave the infirmary and did so with Sky Sergeant Swift Strike at my side.

“How is Agent Artemis?” I asked him as I read over a fresh dispatch from 5th Division headquarters. I noted with satisfaction that retaliation had finally been ordered and grinned as I read the form it would take. Methinks a more unworthy part of myself wished I could watch it happen—watch the destruction our chosen instrument of retribution would wreak.

As we were already on alert, there was nothing else for us to do except sit back and wait, though I planned to go interrogate Gavian Ravenoff and my own disloyal soldiers in the meantime.

“Methinks she’ll be fine in a few days,” Swift Strike replied, his sword wound now bound. He’d carried the badly wounded EIS mare to the infirmary himself, insisting on her being treated before his own injuries were tended to; he’d taken some crystal fragments and at least one grazing scimitar slash to his side but had otherwise emerged unscathed.

’Twould be a lie to say I wasn’t impressed with his abilities. Despite his slight appearance, his speed and skill with blades was phenomenal and I wondered if he might be willing to teach them to me. “Methinks this does make a mess of our plan to depart today, however. We shall need to remain here until she recovers and the border settles down.”

“Lovely,” I groused under my breath. “Saddled with a gryphon ‘guest’ whilst we wait for a mare who would never qualify for the Army, let alone the Guard, to recover from injuries that would be dangerous to either.”

I blew out a breath as we flew back to my quarters. “Still, at least she took her duty to protect our guest seriously. And methinks she did save us in the end,” I grudgingly conceded, realizing how lucky I was to be alive. If it hadn’t been for her shield, the explosive crystals tossed by the last Raven would have detonated in our collective faces. She might then have escaped cleanly, with her target slain and her mission completed.

Swift Strike nodded as we both alit. “She may be rough around the edges and a bit arrogant, but she is truly a good mare at heart.” He then glanced at me. “‘Tis certain your actions and words surprised me, though. ’Tis a rare pony indeed that would so flagrantly stand against a member of the EIS. Methinks you humbled her with your lightning trick last night.

“And you are correct on one note: she washed out of Army basic, so she was reassigned to Intelligence, and ’twas then given the cover of an Army Sergeant,” he shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Methinks her attitude is perchance in part caused by bitterness that others won fairly what she could not.”

I nodded at the sensible statement, then paused. “Wait—how wouldst you know of her past?”

He gave me a smirk. “I was there when she washed out of the Army, even if she didn’t see me. A Black Lance is able to hide, even in plain sight,” he stated matter-of-factly, then sighed. “Truth be told, ’twas I who recruited her, recognizing her sharp mind. To be certain, the mare does her job well, but not as well as she thinks.

“She is a cunning agent and an artist with that longbow of hers, but methinks she over-relies on her magic and marksponyship, at the cost of strength and stamina. She also thinks a bit too much of her intellect, so when something doesn’t go according to plan, she tends to get flustered. And though she’s excellent in interrogations and drawing conclusions from scarce data, she’s simply not the best field operative.”

I found myself less surprised than I might be at this revelation. It certainly explained his combat skill. The Black Lances frequently worked alongside the EIS, from what little I knew of the special operations battalion of the Corps. “Well, thank you for taking my side in the argument last night, Sky Sergeant. My apologies if it causes trouble for you later.”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “There’s no need for thanks, Firefly,” he said, dropping formality entirely. “I would do the same for anypony in my family.”

I blinked, caught short. “Family?”

For the first time since I had known him, he smiled at me. “Among the Lances, even those in retirement, word travels fast, and we always take care of our own. Silent Night is not just my former comrade but my cousin, and I will gladly protect and aid her new daughter in her stead.”

It hadn’t occurred to me until just then that being adopted meant having more than just immediate family; it meant an extended one too. It felt nice, having somepony who had all but agreed to act as a proxy for my new mother. I smiled back at him, shooting him a quick salute. “Thank you, Sky Sergeant.”

“’Tis my greatest pleasure, ma’am,” he favored me with another smile. “But I do ask that you not salute me or call me by my true rank or name around your soldiers. For now, I am but Corporal Zephyr Sparrow, 5th Division logistics specialist, here to oversee transfer of supplies and report on the new base construction.”

“Of course, Corporal,” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his cover. I would have said more, but we had arrived at my stateroom. And standing guard at the door, with a singularly unamused expression, was Fell Flight.

“Commander,” she acknowledged me with a brusque nod.

“Sergeant,” I replied. Without further preamble, I asked, “Has the final assassin been detained, as ordered?” While five of the formidable Ravens had stormed my stateroom, two more had been lurking outside. One of them was slain, but Fell Flight, responding rapidly to the assault, managed to corral and knock out the last. ’Twas good thinking and demonstrated great skill on her part—she knew we needed at least one alive, to answer for this attack.

“Aye. She is bound and her wounds were treated. Our healers have disarmed the magical traps and curses on her. I have instructed her guards to report to us immediately when she awakens.” Her expression was unchanged. “Commander, regarding the one in your room…”

“EIS business,” I said flatly, my expression darkening. “I can say no more.”

She blinked, then snorted. “I should have guessed. I recognized that tiercel; Blindside corralled him at the end of the last engagement, when…” she trailed off, perchance recalling the events that followed and worried they would discomfort me.

I sought to put her mind at ease quickly. “He is indeed that tiercel. ’Twas explained to me, his purpose here, and I accepted it. For the time being we will continue to protect him. You are to double the watch on him, and make sure none of the soldiers who stalked him earlier have any contact with him,” I instructed in some disgust. Captives or no, I couldn’t imagine what they’d been through when taken hostage that caused such an overreaction; from all reports they’d been asleep the whole time!

“I shall see to it.” She nodded, but then went downcast. “We lost some good ponies today, ma’am.”

My expression softened. “I know,” I told her quietly, realizing that one of my first duties as Outpost Commander was going to be another funeral service.

Fell Flight hesitated, and then decided she had to speak. “And you ma’am? Are you… well?” she asked cautiously, and I took her meaning immediately. She was asking if I was at peace with killing again, after all the trouble I’d had with it before.

And to my surprise, I realized… “I am.” I closed my eyes and then opened again, letting her see for herself that I was not upset. That did bother me on some level, that I could suddenly slay three more gryphons and then shake it off like nothing had happened, but then I remembered Silent Night’s words—that it got easier for her too.

She was correct that ’twas nothing to be proud of, but at the same time, I couldn’t obsess over every death inflicted or taken; not and stay sane. Command, ’twould seem, had already changed me, as had the simple fact I had now ponies to protect and fight for. Regardless, I couldn’t worry about it now, not with my charge still cowering alone in my stateroom. “Sergeant, do you perchance know anypony who speaks the gryphon tongue?”

Fell Flight sighed. “I speak it, ma’am,” she told me to my surprise, somewhat embarrassed. “I studied it some time ago at the behest of my mentor. ‘Know your enemy’ and all that.” She looked back at my door as muffled Aeric phrases were heard, sounding like they were being spoken through stifled sobs.

“And that’s how I know he’s been praying to his ancestors ever since he awoke. Praying for deliverance, or failing that, a quick death. Methinks he’s convinced we’ll kill him just to save ourselves from further trouble, or to take vengeance for our dead,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s a coward, ma’am.”

“He’s but a cub, scared and alone, Sergeant,” I replied. “He’s lost his freedom and his innocence. He had no idea what he was getting into by joining the raiders, and he just found out even his own kind want him dead,” I noted somberly, remembering Agent Artemis’ earlier explanation. “In any event, I need to talk to him now. So if you wouldst…”

She set her jaw. “If I must,” she replied in some distaste, opening the door and letting us in.

Upon entering, I heard a faint crying sound. The gryphon teen was currently huddled under his blanket, curled up in a fetal position on the remains of the cloud I’d given him, clutching his own tail to his feathered chest. He clearly expected death at any time, and with my entry assumed it had come, scrambling up and backing away into the nearest corner, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes.

I could hardly believe it, but I was truly starting to feel sorry for him. “Tell him that I am not here to kill him,” I directed Fell Flight to say, and she did so, though her translation sounded a bit longer than it needed to and rather sharply delivered.

Whatever she said, tears started to roll down his cheeks and he all but prostrated himself before me, baring his throat hard. I was starting to realize that was a standard Gryphon gesture of submission and gratitude, though he was now greatly exaggerating it. He then gave an audibly shaky response.

“He thanks you for saving him and wishes to repay you,” Fell Flight announced. “He says he is in your debt and his life belongs to you now.”

Honor. ’Tis something that all gryphons have drilled into us from birth.

’Twasn’t something I’d ever had, not so much out of apathy as out of a simple need for survival. I was always small for my age, either due to a naturally slower growth rate or a simple lack of food. As such, I couldn’t win fights or duels; I couldn’t work in any real sense, and worst of all for a gryphon, I couldn’t hunt at all. I tried, believe me, but I was neither strong nor swift enough to catch prey.

So in the end, all I could do was steal from the docks or scavenge from the trash piles, accepting the occasional beating for it when others caught me. ’Twas my stomach that always motivated me; though I dreamed of warrior glory and an escape from my current life when sleeping in whatever shelter I could, most of my waking hours were dedicated to the simple pursuit of sustenance.

In truth, I had been better fed in pony captivity than I’d been throughout most of my life, and my body had responded, with my normally gaunt ribs and wings starting to fill out a bit even in the short time I’d been a prisoner.

And now, none of it mattered as I heard the voices outside, and the door opened to admit the Guardsmare commander, the stallion, and the Commander’s second, who, to my surprise, addressed me in passable Aeric. She told me the Commander would spare my life, and ’twas far more than she thought I deserved, adding that six soldiers had died protecting me.

“Six lives sacrificed to save your scrawny hide! If you have even a shred of the honor the gryphons claim, you will get on your knees and thank her right now!” she all but hissed at me, showing her pointed teeth.

I did just that, telling the Commander how sorry I was and thankful for her protection, begging for the chance to help her somehow. My reply was translated, then I got one back; I was surprised to realize I was already starting to recognize a word here or there.

“She wants to know what you saw when you were with the raiders, and what interest they had in captured ponies,” came the larger mare’s translation, but then she added a question of her own. “In other words, why were the Ravens after you?”

’Twas a question I didn’t have an immediate answer for. I was scared, but I wasn’t stupid; if I had nothing else, I had good survival instincts and they told me that I’d clearly seen or heard something during my time with the raiders that gave the Empire cause to silence me.

I reviewed in my head again everything I’d seen and done during the two weeks I spent with Mistress Hildyra’s group, including some time spent in her presence I wished very much I could forget. And yet, there was nothing I could immediately recall I hadn’t already told Agent Artemis.

“I… I don’t know!” I was forced to admit, certain my inability to tell them more would yet cost me my life. “Please believe me… I don’t know.” I clutched my head in my talons and started to cry again.

“Gavian...” this time, I heard the commander call my name, and to my surprise there was no anger in it. She spoke in her own language again, and I picked up a word here or there. “I” and “You” I already knew along with “Yes” and “No”, a few curse words even if I only had a vague sense of their meanings, and even “Day” and “Night”. But this time, I heard a word I never had before—’’.

The Commander’s second gave her a look of disbelief, then translated. “She says that she does not hold what happened here against you. And she wishes you to know that she, too, is an orphan,” the larger mare began, making me look up in surprise. She paused long enough for the Guardsmare to speak again. “She says she knows well how lonely and difficult that is. She understands that you dreamt of glory and of one day escaping your fate; becoming something more than you were.

"That you wished to become a great warrior, one whose name would be forever known,” she continued, making my eyes go wide. “That she, too, had those dreams, and was one day able to realize them thanks to a friend. That she would wish the same for you,” the mare went on with an air that suggested she could scarcely believe what she was saying. “That nobody, pony or gryphon, deserves the life you’ve had, and she thinks you quite strong inside if you could survive as long as you did lacking any home, friends or family.”

Fresh tears were welling in my eyes as she spoke, and when I looked to the Guardsmare, I saw genuine pity in her gaze as she spoke again. “She says she would take your pain away if she could, but that is not within her power. What is in her power is to offer you that which you have never known before.”

As if to emphasize the point, the Guardsmare stepped closer, and to my shock (and the cat-eyed mare’s, if her expression was any judge!), drew me into a one-legged embrace, saying a single word: “”, which was quickly translated to me. Friend… ship? I repeated the word in disbelief. That broke the dam; I threw my arms around her and sobbed as she held me. For the first time in my life, I had met someone who understood my pain and didn’t think of me as trash.

Unworthy though I was, for the first time in my life, I had found a friend.

Retribution

’Twas early afternoon when the reports of bloody failure came in, and the border forces were put on immediate alert in anticipation of retaliation. The meeting the disguised Legate had then called was not a happy one, and ’twould not have surprised me if blood was shed before all was said and done.

“What we have here,” Consul Gaius began, stalking angrily before the two gryphons he’d summoned to his Legate office at Raptor Base, “is a debacle of the first order. I was assured that the problem of our young captive would be taken care of. Not only is he still alive, but the ponies are now fully aware that we intended to slay the boy!”

He stopped and glared at both of them. “They will now be certain we are hiding something and tried to kill him to cover our tracks, potentially compromising some very critical operations! You will explain what went wrong, and why!” he told them both, his tone and lashing tail making clear he didn’t think they could.

The two gryphons in question were markedly different in their uniform and bearing. One bore the full-body cloak of the Office of Owls and seemed rather apathetic toward the proceedings. The other wore the grey dye of the Ravens, and in sharp contrast to her companion, was glaring back at the Consul.

The Owl spoke first. “We were unaware that the base commander would be overseeing the watch on the prisoner personally,” sub-Praetor Janus said languidly. “She stopped the first attempt, using the captured ponies—who, I must point out, did follow instructions and attempt to kill the cub. ’Tis not my fault that our agents could not account for her presence.”

“I hope you are not then implying that this is my fault,” Tribune Taro, head of all Ravens on the continent, retorted. “You and yours are meant to keep us up-to-date with information and intelligence. You failed in that utterly, with regards to the precise arrangements at the base! He was kept in the commander’s stateroom, not the holding cells as you originally claimed! That made it far more difficult to approach undetected!”

The sub-Praetor shrugged in the face of her anger. “Even we can’t know all the inner workings of an Equestrian outpost, Tribune. We gave you the best information we had available. And your Ravens should be adaptable enough to track their quarry through such a small area even without our aid!”

“Enough!” The Consul snarled them both silent, and then spelled it out. “Your orders, both of you, were to kill the boy and leave no trace of your presence! The sleeper agents failed spectacularly, and your vaunted Ravens not only failed as well, but they allowed one of their number to be captured!” he spat out the word with disgust.

“Because you sent them to do the impossible!” Taro shot back. “When the Owls’ pets failed to do the job, we had no choice but to step in ourselves with little time or preparation before they moved him again under heavier guard! They were forced to take chances they normally never would! Your foolish orders to kill him quickly and at all costs resulted in the deaths of six of my best assassins!”

“Who couldn’t even slay two ponies and a fledgling boy,” I dripped contempt from the shadows behind the Consul. ’Twas out of turn for me, but I could hardly not point that out.

She turned to glare at me, fury in her eyes. “Those two ponies were a Royal Guardsmare and a Black Lance!” she corrected me. “Even you wouldst have had trouble with them, Talaeus! And thanks to your master’s utter idiocy in ordering this exercise, their entire base was already on alert, making stealth all but impossible!” Her wings twitched in anger, and then she pointed an accusing talon right at Gaius. “I say this debacle is on your head, Consul Gaius! I hold you responsible for their loss and will take it up with the Empress herself if needs be!”

The Consul’s eyes narrowed. One did not challenge him and expect to not be challenged in return, so both I and the sub-Praetor stepped back, anticipating a duel. I would guard the Consul from assassins, but not from questions of ability and honor. This battle was one he would have to fight himself as the pair began to circle each other with lowered heads, wings flared and hackles raised.

But before the gauntlet could be thrown, a low but growing rumble was heard in the background. “My lords, ’tis not the time to settle such matters. I believe the ponies are about to retaliate,” Janus announced in an urgent tone, staring outside as a sudden breeze came through the open balcony door he was standing beside to ruffle our fur and feathers.

“Let them.” I shrugged, wondering what the noise was. I would have thought it distant thunder, except it was too continuous. “We have the border watched closely and a dozen legions available, whilst they have but five half-strength divisions—only one of which is pegasus. They have not the numbers to threaten us, so any effort they could mount with their meager frontier forces would only result in their own annihilation.”

The Owl shook his head sharply, suddenly appearing genuinely afraid and when he spoke, there was an audible tremor in his voice. “You presume, Centurion, that they would respond conventionally…” his voice trailed off as the rumble deepened, growing closer, the outside light getting rapidly darker and the wind picking up quickly as well. “And I fear that this time, they are responding in a most unconventional manner!” He gestured towards the balcony with a shaking paw.

Blinking, the rest of us stepped out on the balcony to behold…

A roiling, black and very dangerous-looking thunderhead descending with great speed on Raptor Base out of the west; its base shot through with lightning and massive anvil structure twisting visibly like a top. This was no storm conjured by nature, not in this part of the continent and so far out of season; a supercell of this sheer size and terrifying power could only have been created by the pegasus brigade at Gamma.

The scene outside was one of panic as gryphons scrambled to reach cover or flee their guard towers, only to be swept up in sudden hurricane winds or worse, struck down in the open by massive bolts of lightning or pummeled in flight by large hail as the storm overtook the base.

“Ancestors preserve us!” I wasn’t certain who said that, and in mere moments, it didn’t matter as Tartarus itself descended upon us.

Reflection

Greetings to you, the readers of this growing tale. ’Tis now time for me to add my own voice to the chorus.

I am Fell Flight, and I served under Firefly for many years, acting as her second and right-hoof mare. My full tale will be told another time, but for now, I wish to relate a simple story of my future Captain and her new gryphon friend. ’Twas but the evening after their talk, and we had received word of our retaliation against the gryphons. I was only sorry we would not take part in it, for I would have loved to help create such an elegant and very Equestrian instrument of destruction with my own wings and hooves.

It may seem callous, but at the time I had no love for the gryphons, believing them from long experience and a score of separate engagements to be a race of evil and irredeemable savages. As such, I could not fathom why my new commander, whom I had quickly come to respect, saw fit to treat our captive so well. Sixteen ponies had died in the raid he took part in; six more guarding him under EIS orders, which I would have quite happily ignored if it was me.

“Commander, I have to ask… why?” I queried plaintively when we were alone later that evening, standing watch over the canyon in case the Empire attempted a vengeance strike of their own for what were certain to be terrible casualties at their targeted base. We would be both relieved and disappointed, however, as none came. “Why wouldst you offer him friendship and place his life above those of our own kind?”

“I do not place him above us, Sergeant,” she corrected me with a reproachful look, “I simply believe his life has worth. And in truth… methinks I understand him.”

That caught me short. “Understand him, ma’am?”

She seemed to be searching for words for a moment. “When we entered that room and I beheld him there crying and alone… I saw not an enemy, but a lost and desperate soul,” she began. “In fact, in that moment, I daresay I saw myself in him. Not me as I was, but myself as I might have been, if I had no help and nopony to take care of me growing up. If I had no friends and no hope.

“If I had nowhere to turn and no way to fulfill my dreams, living only to survive another day.” She closed her eyes tightly in pain for a moment. “And in that instant, I thought to myself… there, but for the grace of Celestia, go I. And I could not but pity him.” Swiftly, she related the full story of the young gryphon that Agent Artemis had told her, and ’twould be a lie to say that it did not give me some pause as well.

When the tale was finished, leaving us both subdued, she went on. “I thought I was unlucky in life, but now I know what unlucky truly means. We revile him for his race and actions, Sergeant, but were I in his place? I cannot say I would have done any differently, and thus, I cannot condemn him. He does not wish us ill now; of that you can be certain. And if we are to understand what secret he may hold that his own kind would wish him dead, then ’twould behoove us to make him want to help us, as opposed to just seek to placate us. Methinks we will get more information out of him that way.”

I frowned. “Then this offer a friendship ’tis but a ruse?”

“Not at all,” she told me, shaking her head sharply. “For me to lie about that would be to dishonor friendship and Harmony itself. No, my friend. The offer ’twas real. I empathize with him and wish to help him. To give him the chance I had—that to know friendship; to learn and grow. And yes, I believe he can learn and grow, just as I once did when I found my first friend. I will show him by example that we ponies do not have to be his enemies, and in so doing, perhaps we sow the seeds for future fruits.”

“Ma’am, he is a gryphon,” I felt compelled to point out again. “He knows nothing of friendship or Harmony, and ’tis doubtful to me at best that a predatory and warlike race such as his could ever learn them. So why, in the name of all we hold sacred, wouldst you risk your career and base for his sake?”

She turned to me and smiled in response. It would be a long time before I knew why, and longer still before I truly understood the meaning of her next words:

“Is that not what friends do?”

Wrath

I awoke underneath a pile of debris, the lingering rain making light pinging sounds as it hit my armor.

’Twas the only reason the Consul and I were still alive; conscious of my duty to protect him, I had done so the only way I could—by flinging myself over him as the storm descended. Talaeus armor was enchanted, but even it had been severely taxed. My onyx helm and breastplate showed large cracks and chips in their polished surface and as my senses returned, I realized I was bleeding profusely from my face and flank.

Such minor matters could wait, however, as I helped the Consul up. He had survived with bruises from flying debris and odd hailstone hits only, but the others had not been so lucky. Tribune Taro lay dead, impaled gruesomely by a splintered wooden rafter and several smaller shards. On the other side of the room huddled in a corner, sub-Praetor Janus lay moaning, alive but badly battered, lying on his side with only a few shreds of his cloak still stuck to him, clutching the remains of a smoking stave.

We did not know he was a Magus, and the shield he had conjured had barely been enough to save him. But he had burned out his stave and all his power to protect himself, and even then just barely, leaving him suffering magical exhaustion along with his myriad wounds.

Carrying him on my back, we flew out of the remains of the Consul’s legate office in a daze, turning to see the now-retreating and visibly weakening storm still plowing east. There was nothing we could do about it; we could only pray it had lost sufficient strength by the time it found a town.

As the trailing rain cleared off and the sun re-emerged, almost in mockery, we could see that the base was wrecked, with most of the buildings and towers toppled; even those that weren’t had their walls and windows blown out.

The initial tempest with its barrage of lightning and hurricane-driven hailstones the size of a gryphon fist was bad enough, but far worse was the large tornado that descended from its parent storm. It had carved a swath of destruction straight through the heart of the base, taking out several major buildings and countless gryphons who had taken shelter in them. Only our ancestors, or blind luck, had spared most of the healer huts, which were now overwhelmed with casualties.

We didn’t know it yet, but several hundred soldiers had died with countless more injured, and our exhausted magus healers were trying to keep that toll from going higher. Passing through the triage field, we found one eagless who had half her feathers blown off by a direct lightning strike, and though she miraculously lived, she now bore a terrible scar against her bare skin. We soon came upon another Talon tiercel who had been plucked clean by the sheer strength of the vortex and then flayed alive by debris; even the Consul seemed touched when the maimed earth gryphon managed a shaky salute as he passed.

We did what we could to restore order to the broken base and see to the wounded, summoning additional soldiers from adjacent areas to secure our section of the border if the ponies decided to strike us in our weakened state. ’Twas what we would have done, after all, but no attack came. When we had accomplished all we could, ’twas the darkest hours of the morning and we stood again in the wind-gutted remains of his office; the stone floor still stained with Taro’s blood.

We stared out over the wreckage, tents now housing the remains of the legion stationed here, hundreds of fires burning to provide warmth to the wounded in the cold winter air. The mare in the moon looked down at us; I could have sworn I saw her eye glint in mocking laughter for a moment.

I cursed her and all ponies for the ruin they had visited upon us that day. Too weak to challenge us in honorable combat, they had resulted to this cowardly means of recompense for raids that had only inflicted a fraction of this cost, and I swore vengeance for it.

In contrast to my dark mood, Consul Gaius said nothing. At length, he went to the remains of his upended desk and pulled out a fresh bottle of rum from a hidden compartment, followed by two intact bowls. He poured one for both of us, and I accepted mine without comment, downing half of it in one draw—for if there was ever a time to drink, it was now.

Still, I was worried about the Consul’s state of mind, uncertain what thoughts were going through his head. “My Lord?” I asked him cautiously as he stared out over the wreckage of Raptor.

“Taro was right. ’Tis my fault. I gave a foolish order, and we paid a heavy price for it, Centurion Kaval,” he told me quietly. “By our ancestors and the blood of those slain, I swear I will atone.”

“Our forces will want vengeance,” I reminded him. “I want vengeance, sir!”

“We will have it,” he promised me, his eyes glittering and beak set. “On that, I give you my word.”

Author's Note

“Violence never solves anything”, we’re told over and over. Except when it does. Take it from me, folks, turning the other cheek to a bully NEVER works, and was the worst advice I ever got as a kid. In the end, even Celestia realizes this. The ponies are peaceful, but even they can be pushed too far as the gryphons just found out.

Thanks to Denim_Blue, AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire for prereads—as always, I have a blast just reading the comments you guys put on the google doc—and James Cyberlink for musical selections. A special thanks goes to Leo Archon for contributing the better part of the Aftermath section and adding his own touches to several others, improving them greatly. We work well together.

And lastly, a special shout-out to The Voice himself, TheGoldCrow, voice of Phoenix Wright in Turnabout Storm, in thanks for his shout-out to me on his youtube channel after I gave him running commentary on his Kid Icarus Uprising playthru narration. I was honored and it was greatly appreciated. You’re invited to check out his channel, as well as the other case he’s been voicing Phoenix Wright in—Operation Turnabout.

Part 12 - Ultimatum

To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting. – Sun Tzu

My friendship with Princess Celestia began early in my career; a product of her first visit to Outpost Epsilon.

At her core, she was kind and caring, but also quite cunning and clever when she needed to be. She was slow to rile, and not easily provoked. But when she was, I glimpsed somepony much different. A self she kept deeply buried, for fear of what she could do and the spirit of vengeance she could become. She was no goddess, a point she made to me more than once, merely an ascended pony with equally great gifts and burdens.

I envied her neither, but was eternally grateful ’twas she who bore them, and that she saw fit to call me friend.

I slept well that night, for the first time in several days.

My stateroom had been cleaned up but was now completely bare of furnishings, with my desk and chair sacrificed in the battle with the Ravens, but it was still the most defensible place for protecting Gavian.

I watched over him by day, and Swift Strike over both of us by night. I wasn’t sure when the latter slept, but he never appeared tired, and I was glad for his presence. Just looking at his slight form, he was the absolute last pony one would think was any sort of combat expert, but as I thought about it, I realized ’twas what made him the perfect Black Lance.

Despite my posted orders announcing Gavian was and would remain under our protection, there was plenty of grumbling over his presence, with some Corps veterans taking to calling me a ‘chicken-lover’ behind my back. ’Twas prevalent enough that I finally assembled the garrison and laid down the law—that he was providing valuable intelligence in large part thanks to my offer of friendship, that my offer was truly meant, that I would deal harshly with any attempt to harm him… and that if anypony had an issue with it, they were more than welcome to challenge me.

To little surprise, there were no takers—the new arrivals had seen well enough for themselves how well I could fight in combat spars against veteran mares I never failed to win; never mind the fact I had slain five Ravens single-hoofedly (’twasn’t true, of course, but Swift Strike wanted his anonymity and told me to take the credit).

I pointed out Gavian had not killed anyone during the earlier raid, being far too young and untrained to fight effectively, and that also he had nothing to do with the capture of our soldiers, having joined the group after. I finished by sharing his life story and stating that his joining the raiders was nothing more than a homeless teen’s act of desperation, ready to grasp at any hay straw that would offer him an escape from his misery.

The neighsaying died down afterwards, though didn’t quite go away. I don’t know for sure, but ’tis possible some Omega veterans tried to enlist Fell Flight against me. If so, she must have laid down the law more directly with them, considering the bruises a few mares showed up with at reveille a day or two later.

’Twas a shame that I never got the chance to interrogate the captured Raven, as EIS agents swooped in and took her back to Gamma before she ever woke up. My interrogations of my rebellious soldiers were likewise fruitless, all apologizing profusely for their actions and insisting they didn’t know what came over them. ’Twas troubling enough, but ’twas even more concerning that none of them could remember who told them that Gavian was here. Starting to suspect that something more had happened to them during their time in captivity other than being put to sleep, I ordered them confined in our holding cells, which had survived the earlier raids more or less intact.

In contrast, my meetings with Gavian had been productive. Veryproductive. To say nothing of extremely alarming.

I was appalled to learn he could not read or write, until he explained, ashamed, that he’d never been taught or so much as spent a single day inside a school before. He further said he’d been the runt of the litter, shocking us further as he tearfully recounted how he was abandoned by his Wind Knight parents at the age of six for turning out so small and weak. But he showed a surprising talent for drawing, holding a quill pen in his talons, sketching out the installation he’d seen with the aid of a unicorn healer who knew a memory recall spell or two.

’Twas the only hobby he had, he said; his sole escape from his unhappy existence, scratching pictures into beach sand or tree bark with a talon or drawing on scraps of parchment using purloined writing implements.

Sad as that was, more troubling was some of the pictures he drew. The ‘holding area’ they used for kidnapped ponies was apparently far more than that, as one of his sketches showed a glimpse into a lab with a pony strapped to a table. He also depicted a gryphon mage sitting over him, the end of his stave glowing.

Upon seeing that, I immediately ordered all captured soldiers to wear wing restraints and put under heavy guard, more convinced than ever that their behavior the previous night had not been natural. They protested, and magic scans by our healer team still revealed nothing, but I would take no further chances until specialists I requested from Canterlot were able to examine them more closely.

Lunch arrived, and I left for a round of inspections and other duties, asking Gavian to eat and then keep drawing in the meantime, leaving him under the protection of Swift Strike and Fell Flight’s trusted veterans. When I returned late in the afternoon, I found he had drawn many pictures of the place he had lived in previously; the big port city of Cirrus Cassida.

I frowned and felt uneasy as I examined his latest works. He drew dozens of catapults and rams lined up in rows at the docks, freshly offloaded from ships. ’Twas siege equipment, which was hardly defensive in nature. Anchored offshore were the seaborne transports which had brought them, armed with some odd form of ballistae and which he said brought in more supplies and troops every day from across the Antlertic Ocean.

From there, he moved on to drawing the nearby base outside of Cirrus Cassida, which was known simply as Eagle Aerie. We knew it existed, but had no idea of its size. In it, he depicted row after row of barracks buildings in the large and sprawling complex; enough to house many legions of soldiers. There were countless drill and training fields, which were to be expected, but far more ominous were the clear mock-ups of Equestrian towns and outposts to practice storming; their architecture far different from that of the base.

Fell Flight and I exchanged a look. This was not a nation simply securing its own border. This was a nation actively preparing for war. For invading Equestria herself. His drawings were immediately dispatched to division headquarters and from there, to Canterlot. A flurry of communications followed, not all of which I was privy to, but did include some additional questions to ask him the following morning.

Had he seen any rallies or military parades in Cirrus Cassida? Yes. Did he see any speeches? Yes. Did he remember the gryphons who gave them? Only vaguely. Did he remember their names or what was said? No, he was too far away to hear most of it, watching from the shadows or odd cloud at the edge of the crowd. Did he remember what they looked like?

Suddenly his brow furrowed as he recalled something. He began speaking slowly, as if to himself. “He says there was one tiercel there in particular. Two stars? He must mean a Consul,” Fell Flight translated. “And he says he saw him again at the parley you went to earlier, shown him by Agent Artemis.”

With the help of another memory recall spell, he then drew a very detailed picture of a male earth gryphon—one even I recognized, having seen him up close quite recently.

Another dispatch went out to Division HQ immediately as word reached me that Agent Artemis had awoken.

* * * * *

Arriving at the infirmary, she focused her orange eyes on me with some effort as soon as I walked in. “Commander?” she recognized, squinting at me.

“Agent,” I acknowledged with a nod. “How do you feel?”

If I had thought that Agent Artemis would be relieved at her continued life, such thoughts were put to rest the moment she opened her mouth again. “Well. I see the base is still standing. Thank Celestia for small miracles,” she mused in the most condescending tone yet, making a show of looking around whilst suppressing a grimace at her still-bound shoulder. ’Twas healing, but ’twould still be some days before she could walk again. “With as lax as you keep your security, methinks that was no sure thing.”

I kept my temper in check, reminding myself again that she had saved my life earlier. “You’ll be pleased to know that your ‘guest’ is still alive and well. And quite grateful that we managed to protect him.”

Artemis nodded absently, still somewhat groggy from the painkiller potions and her unwilling sojourn into the land of unconsciousness. Then she paused and looked at me, her normally sharp wits a second or two slow. “Wait—how wouldst you know he’s grateful? You don’t speak Aeric, from what I recall.”

“I don’t, but my second-in-command does,” I replied with a nod at Fell Flight, who was standing on the other side of the bed, looking down on the EIS agent in some disdain. “I needed answers in the wake of the Raven attack, and since you were unconscious, I decided to speak with him myself.”

Her eyes flashed despite the painkilling potion in her system; I had never seen her look so livid. “You go too far, Commander!” she snapped, then winced as she tried to sit up. “Your orders were merely to keep him safe, not to interrogate him!”

“My orders,” I recited with strained patience, “were to ensure the safety and well-being of a guest that was placed in my care. Nowhere in my orders was I prohibited from speaking with Gavian, nor to ask him questions.”

Artemis swelled up indignantly, but a hoof on her shoulder caused her to whip her head around, then up at Fell Flight’s sneering face. “Take care, Sergeant,” my cat-eyed second mocked, “You’re still convalescing in the wake of the Ravens’ attack.”

Artemis considered that, glancing down at her bound right shoulder, the appendage still useless to her, even with the efforts of our healers and her own innate healing magic working on it. She also considered Fell Flight’s sheer size, my own unnatural strength, and the fact that she was outnumbered with her magic weak from healing and her longbow nowhere to be seen. Relenting, she laid back and relaxed. “Very well. Methinks you couldn’t have learned anything I did not already know, so there’s little harm done.”

I couldn’t help but grin at that, and Fell Flight did as well. “Actually, he’s told us much.” I showed her a sheaf of scroll-written reports I’d sent up the chain; her orange eyes went wide as she levitated the stack in front of her and scanned its contents, examining copies of the pictures he’d drawn.

“How…?” I had the pleasure of seeing her at a complete loss for words.

“’Twas quite simple, actually.” I shrugged. “Part of it was that he was grateful for us protecting him and wanted to repay the debt. But mostly, he just wanted a friend and someone to understand him. I gave him that, and then he was willing to do whatever he could to help us. He gave us all this quite willingly. Even eagerly.” I couldn’t keep the boastful note out of my voice.

She glared at me again. “Interrogators should never form a close bond with their subjects,” she stated like she was reciting from a book. “Emotional involvement ’tis a dangerous thing for an agent.”

“I am not an agent or interrogator. Just his friend,” I smiled sweetly. “Your mission, by the way, is cancelled. The Lances in Gryphon territory now have a new set of orders to investigate the large base at Cirrus Cassida and confirm what Gavian showed us in these pictures.” I showed her the latest dispatch recalling her to Canterlot when she was fit to travel, leaving Gavian Ravenoff in my care since ’twas quite apparent that he was divulging a great deal of information to me.

Artemis finished reading and visibly deflated. “Are you through humiliating me now, Commander?” she asked in a resigned tone. “If you are, methinks I’d like to be alone.”

“As you wish. But before I go, there is something else I have for you, Agent,” I said, bringing out a package that had been delivered earlier that morning. At her bemused look, I pulled a medal and citation scroll out of the package, then raised my voice so that all in the infirmary could hear.

“Sergeant Artemis Arrow! For grave injuries sustained in the service of Equestria in battle against an enemy force, you are hereby awarded the Celestial Seal of Sacrifice,” I recited, pinning the violet medal inscribed with Celestia’s sun cutie mark to her uniform cloak which lay on a bedside table next to her. “And by my recommendation… for saving three lives and slaying the final Raven yourself despite severe wounds, you are also awarded the Equestrian Army’s Opal Arrow for heroism in combat.” I next pinned a small shield-shaped medal carved from iridescent opal with an arrow etched in it.

With a reluctant look at Fell Flight—I really didn’t want to recognize her like this, but ’twas a lie to say she hadn’t earned it—I stepped back and saluted her. “We owe you our lives. Thank you for saving us, Sergeant.”

She might have answered with more snark, but she seemed strangely subdued, returning the gesture perfunctorily with her left arm instead of her wounded right. “You’re welcome, commander. But methinks you’ll forgive me if I don’t make it a habit.” She stared up at the tent ceiling as she spoke.

“Of course,” I told her, deciding that was as close as she’d ever get to being gracious. “You can see Gavian before you leave. In the meantime, rest.”

A Celestial Visit

I was awoken early the next morning by a trumpet call.

That one would sound was normal for reveille, but the melody it played was decidedly not; one reserved for the arrival of a high-ranking guest. Somewhat blearily, I got to my hooves and pulled my freshly repaired Guardspony armor on, having removed it the previous night for repairs whilst taking the opportunity to enjoy my first hot bath in many days.

‘Tis worth noting I’d given it to the metalworkers of our earth pony construction crews, as it bore a series of scorches and blade scores from the battle; they’d done well in fixing and returning it to me by morning. The most notable damage had been a rather deep and ugly gash in the chestplate from being slashed by a Raven scimitar, which methinks had come within a hairsbreadth of penetrating it despite the strength of its steel and protective enchantments.

‘Twas but another reminder of how close to defeat and death I had come at the talons of the Empire’s elite assassins, and how much better I still needed to get.

Such would be attended to later, however. Annoyed by being rousted early and wondering who in the name of Celestia would be arriving an hour before a sunrise memorial service, I heard the sentries outside my door suddenly snap to attention; their hooves clicking together. The door then opened to reveal—

“My Princess!” I gasped, jaw falling open as I fell to my knees before Celestia herself! “F-forgive me, there was nary a word of your coming…!” I stammered, flaring my wings in a formal pegasus bow.

“As that is how I wished it. Be at ease, commander,” she spoke softly and gave me a warm smile, in marked contrast to the strong, stone-faced Guardpony stallions flanking her—only the very best would be selected to wear the gold armor of her Celestial Guard—and the single slightly-nervous looking pegasus aide at her side, giving me strangely furtive looks. “I am here to pay my respects to your fallen… and to meet your young charge for myself.” She looked over at where a rousted Gavian was now sitting bolt upright, staring at Celestia, frozen in shock and no small amount of fear.

She addressed him in perfect Aeric, to his visible surprise. The two exchanged words for a time, before he fell to his knees, weeping, bowing and baring his throat hard. It took me a moment to realize that they were tears of relief and joy.

Satisfied, Celestia turned back to me. “Young Gavian Ravenoff has, by my suggestion, requested asylum within Equestria. As ’tis plain that the Empire wants him dead, he feels safer within our borders. And particularly, with you, commander,” she gave me a pleased smile, one I could not help but return.

“I apologize for interrupting the moment,” a new voice said in a rich baritone that could make any mare’s knees weak. “But there is a memorial service in a short time, is there not?” The speaker came out from behind one of the guard stallions, and I was caught short by the incongruity between the voice and the one it belonged to.

He looked to be no more than a colt; barely into his teens if that. He was a scrawny thing, with a maize-colored coat and deep red mane. A horn marked his tribe, and he had a slightly ominous cutie mark of a dagger inside the silhouette of a pony’s head; I could not imagine how his mother or sire must have reacted upon initially seeing that. All in all, he painted an odd picture and I was not sure what to make of him.

Celestia turned to him. “Indeed there is. I assume you wish to wait until it’s over to do your tasks?”

“’Twould be best, yes,” the colt replied, his deep voice making me ever more confused. He then turned to me and smiled. “’Tis an honor and a pleasure, Sergeant First Class Firefly. I am Daggermind, head of the Equestrian Intelligence Service, and I must commend you on the information you have pulled from our new gryphon friend.” He bowed low.

My jaw fell open again and I stared; I couldn’t help it. This half-grown colt was the leader of the EIS?

As if reading my thoughts, he chuckled as even Celestia gave an amused grin. “I’m well aware that my appearance leads to some confusion. Rest assured, I am far older than I appear. I will reach my forty-fifth summer this year.”

“Truly?” I blurted, then blushed. “I mean, well… you certainly do not look it.”

Again, he chuckled like he was used to this reaction. “Perchance I should explain. You see, I suffer from a condition that prevents me from growing physically past a certain point. I am a stallion trapped in a colt’s body, essentially. My condition has stumped the best healers in Equestria many a time.

“My body may be immature, but be assured my mind and magic are not,” he promised me and I believed him, recognizing the cunning and intelligence in his gaze. “I am here at your request, as I am also Equestria’s foremost authority on mental studies, both magical and mundane. I have come to inspect your captured soldiers and determine what the gryphons did to them.”

“’Twould be welcome,” I bowed back, still feeling slightly flustered. I had to stop myself from saluting him—the EIS was not a military organization.

“Greetings, Swift Strike,” he next nodded at his fellow stallion.

“Sir,” the Black Lance replied with a nod. He had been far less surprised than me at Celestia’s entrance, greeting her appearance with a low but measured bow. “I assume the information we have gained here is useful?”

“’Tis indeed. I understand from your latest report you wish to stay here, now?”

“To continue to protect young Gavian and be Epsilon’s Black Lance Liaison, yes sir,” he nodded. “’Twould also be a lie to say I have not come to respect Commander Firefly. She fought superbly against the Ravens and has expressed a desire for me to train her in close-quarters combat. I would like the chance, sir.”

“Methinks that can be arranged. With the understanding we may have occasional need of your services elsewhere,” the young-looking stallion answered mildly with an arched eyeridge and grin.

“’Tis appreciated,” Swift Strike replied, then turned to Celestia. “Welcome to Outpost Epsilon, My Princess. You honor us all with your presence.” He bowed low again.

She smiled back, somewhat more wanly. “I am here to honor the dead, Sky Sergeant. And to make sure there shall be no more,” she replied, somewhat cryptically. “And to that end…” Her horn glowed and a series of gleaming armor pieces suddenly materialized on her body, transforming her appearance instantly from our princess to a figure I could only describe as a warrior-queen.

She was certainly quite striking in it, and I understood her intent instinctively—we dressed in full battle gear to honor our fallen, so she was doing the same. “Your presence is greatly appreciated, My Princess. Please follow me,” I invited her, even as my insides churned. I’d been up half the night trying to decide what I would say in eulogy, and her presence did add a bit more pressure to things. But I kept the thought to myself as I preceded her out the door, and we flew with her entire Guardspony contingent onto the field grounds below.

Seeking Answers

The assembled garrison was as shocked to see Celestia as I was, instantly coming to rigid attention, and methinks the dumbstruck look on Fell Flight’s face was something to behold as well.

“Commander! My Princess!” She was so flustered she tried to both bow and salute at the same time. “M-my sincere apologies to you both; I-I swear I received no word!” she stammered in the panicked tones of one who feared her rank and very career were now in jeopardy; I can well imagine her wondering frantically how she’d missed the news of her coming.

Celestia gave her a reassuring smile. “Be at ease, Sergeant First Class. Be at ease, all of you,” she called out. “My presence was intended as as surprise, as I did not wish to attract undue attention for my trip. On this day, I come not as your Princess, but as a pony wishing to pay her respects to those who have fallen,” she closed her eyes and bowed her head beneath her golden helm. “I would not dream of taking the focus off of them this day; only to honor them as best I can.”

With those words, she took her position with her Guardspony contingent at the front of the formation and looked upon me expectantly, leaving me wondering again what in the name of my now-present monarch I was going to say.

In the end, I simply spoke from the heart, stepping up onto the podium and engaging my blue command gem to project my voice. “When I was young, like so many of you, I dreamt of warrior glory. I had no idea of the burden it entailed until I witnessed the carnage of a battlefield, saw ponies slain before me and was forced to take my first life,” I began.

“And when I thought of command… I thought of medals and speeches and leading heroic charges. I never gave a thought to burying the dead. Never even gave a thought to the fact that there would be dead to bury,” I stated in shame, marveling again at my naivety.

“There are no words I can offer that would soothe the hearts of those who called these six friends,” I nodded at the six primary feathers arrayed before me, each a different color, “and there is nothing I can offer their families except condolences and medals. Nothing I can offer their friends and loved ones except my solemn promise that they will be forever remembered, and that they did not die in vain,” I insisted.

I heard a scoffing sound or two and sensed an undercurrent of anger at my words. Many believed that they had, that Gavian had not been worth defending. I knew differently and made the decision I would end such thinking here and now.

“Some may ask why they died. Some may claim the one they protected bares responsibility for their deaths; that he somehow slew them as certainly as if he slit their throats or fired the crossbows himself. Some may even say he was not worth protection, and those who died… died for nothing.” I let a measure of contempt enter my voice as I spoke my last sentence.

“To that I can only say… horseapples!” My choice of words caused a stir in the troops at using profanity. Not only for doing so at a funeral service, but in the presence of Celestia herself.

Thankfully, the Princess appeared unperturbed. “I say that those responsible lie on the other side of this canyon! I say that those responsible are the gryphons who decided that a single homeless teenaged tiercel was somehow a threat to a supposedly mighty empire!

“I say those responsible cared nothing for life, not even one of their own. And that, I say, is the difference between us and them,” I began speaking with more fervor, recalling Windshear’s words to me over Hearth’s Warming. “That we will defend even those not of our own race or nation. That we see all life as worth defending and preserving, that we do not simply throw away or reject those we deem unworthy,” I let a note of reproach enter my voice, “and in recognizing that, we honor not only those who fell, but Harmony itself.

“I say they died so a friendship might be born. A friendship that has already borne fruit, and will continue to do so!” I stated with certainty. “The information young Gavian Ravenoff has provided us will prevent much further bloodshed, as you will soon learn. ’Twas a terrible price to pay, but never think our young friend was not worth protecting, or that those who died defending him died for nothing. They died to save lives. They died to protect them.

“For in the end, what is worth fighting for if not life? And what is worth dying for… if not friendship?”

My soldiers fell silent. My speech complete, I snapped to attention, signaling the assembled pegasi and Guardsponies to do the same. The funeral melody played and Celestia’s horn glowed as she raised the sun on cue; the orange disk appearing over the eastern horizon. The ashes of the fallen were released as its first light washed over us and a final, unanswered roll call of their names was recited; I could not help but shed a tear at the perfect display the Princess provided.

In that moment, I truly did believe that the rising sun led the way to the Summerlands, and that our fallen soldiers were now at peace.

* * * * *

Following a somber breakfast and taking the Princess on a tour of the base, Daggermind called us both to the holding cells where the previously captured soldiers were held. “My Princess.” He gave a short bow; there was an edge to his voice. “I have examined the soldiers. And I believe I have found our answer.” He floated up a single small pink crystal, little more than a shard.

“What is it?” I asked as Celestia frowned, picking it up in her aura to examine.

“A rose ruby,” the Princess recognized. “A rare gem indeed. Highly prized by both dragons and diamond dogs. ’Tis very hard to find, and to my knowledge, there are no known sources of it on this continent. It also has some rather… unique magical properties.” Her frown deepened as she began to put together the picture herself.

“You are correct, My Princess,” Daggermind replied grimly. “’Tis hard to find as ’tis all but invisible to magical scans. And yet, it also holds magic surprisingly well.”

Celestia stared at him like she had already guessed the answer to her next question. “And you found these…?”

He hesitated only briefly before replying. “Inside their heads, My Princess,” he admitted. “Three per soldier. One was at the base of each ear, and the other was in the forehead, embedded directly in the bone. ’Tis no wonder they weren’t found. Due to their invisibility to conventional magic scans, ’twas only possible to detect them by very small incongruities in magical flow.

“Ones far more subtle than the average healer could detect; in essence I had to look for tiny holes in their magical fields instead of the magical spikes you normally associated with charged crystals.”

“I see,” she replied, her lips tightening as she probed the gem with her golden aura; I was starting to sense some genuine anger from her. “This one has a memory recording spell on it,” she noted. “’Twould explain how they knew where Gavian had been moved, if they could pull and playback memories remotely. And the others…?”

“My analysis is incomplete, but ’twould seem whilst one was a receiver of orders, another was a transmitter designed to scramble thoughts and rewrite memories in accordance with a mage’s wishes,” he replied. “When triggered, it force-fed them new memories and desires, such as to kill our gryphon charge. Aside from giving them excellent intelligence, ’tis no doubt they could have also used it in the opening stages of an attack, ordering our soldiers to kill their own comrades and commanders.”

Celestia said nothing for a moment, though the implications chilled me to the bone. I couldn’t help but wonder how many more such sleeper agents were out there, not even knowing they were one. “Such invasive magic that forced them to act against their very hearts would likely drive them insane over time. Will they recover?” she asked next.

“’Tis likely as we caught it quickly enough, but I would recommend keeping them under close observation for a while. And scanning all our troops for these crystals. Now that we know what to look for, we should be able to find them quickly.”

“See to it,” she agreed, materializing a quill pen and piece of parchment; writing out a quick order and then affixing it her seal. “Commander Firefly,” she called to me softly after Daggermind had departed. “We have called for a new parley with the gryphons within the hour, and I wish you to be there.”

“Of course, My Princess,” I answered evenly, surprised. “But surely we are not negotiating with them after their latest atrocity?”

Celestia smiled thinly. “Far from it, commander,” she promised me. “’Tis now clear the extent of their plans, and ’tis my intention to put an utter end to them. And that is why, as protectors of young Gavian, I think you and the Sky Sergeant have earned the right to witness this…”

Courtesy Call

The call for parley from the ponies had been a surprising one.

Our preparations for a counterstrike were nearly complete; ’twas our plan to hit Gamma hard and burn their base to the ground. ’Twould require an entire Talon legion supported by Magus and other Knights to overcome their defenses and would likely result in several centuries of additional casualties, but ’twas a price we were more than willing to pay. “And if the result is early war?” I asked the Consul, not at all unhopefully.

He glanced up from his desk and gave me a level look, his calm voice belying the fire in his eyes. “Then so be it, Centurion. The bulk of our preparations are complete and most of our legions are already in place, now ready and eager to avenge our losses. We have contingency plans for such circumstances. We will give an ultimatum at this parley, demanding territory and compensation. And if they refuse to give it, we will destroy Gamma and then invade Equestria with what we have,” he promised, feverishly writing out orders well into the night.

Dawn seemed to come late the next morning. When we arrived at the mesa nearly five hundred strong—the Consul elected to take a full Cohort to make clear our anger and properly back our demands—there was nothing there to greet us but a scroll directing us to wait.

It smacked of a deliberate insult, as did the fact that when the ponies did come, there were but three, all looking decidedly smug and unconcerned at how badly they were outnumbered: Captain Sirocco, the Guardsmare, and a rather small pegasus stallion I would have dismissed as nothing, but for the fact he was dressed in a full black bodysuit paired with opaque goggles that completely masked his features. He was armed with an equally black wingblade harness along with pouches of crystals around his midsection; there were also two full belts of throwing daggers crossing his chest.

A Black Lance. He, then, was the one Taro reported as having stopped the Raven attack, together with the Guardsmare. I gave the latter an appraising look, noting a small green gem clipped to her ear—a translation gem? She felt my gaze and returned it evenly, and this time, I sensed no anxiety or fear in her. Whatever had happened, she was no longer the weak and uncertain mare she’d been at the first parley, and ’twas then I knew the Consul was right—she was indeed a force to be reckoned with, though I still had little sense of just how much.

“Greetings, Legate Nero,” Sirocco dripped scorn on the title and name. “You look tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?” she asked, almost sweetly. “And such curious weather we’ve been having. Perchance I can offer you an umbrella to keep out the rain?”

“How dare you…” The disguised Consul did not react well, and neither did I nor any of the soldiers he led. “You strike our base, make us wait, and now you insult us further by mocking our losses and sending a paltry number of soldiers to meet us?” He took a step forward, his wings twitching in anger as mine were.

Sirocco smirked, then glared. “If there is any insult, ’tis on your side… Consul Gaius,” she hissed out the name. “For both misrepresenting your identity, and for the simple fact that as you shall soon see, you are not meeting us with equal force!”

For once, the Consul was caught off-guard, making the pony Captain smirk again. “Surprised? You shouldn’t be. Your base was a mess in the aftermath of the storm. ’Twas easy enough for the Lances to raid the remains of your office and learn a few things,” she said with a nod back at the bodysuit-wearing pegasus stallion, whose expression was unreadable beneath his fur-tight mask and opaque flight goggles, though it seemed from movement in his cheeks he must have smiled.

The Consul was going red beneath his feathers as the Aerial Corps Captain went on, now reading from a report scroll likely given her by the EIS. “Consul Salvio Gaius. Highly decorated soldier who came to fame during the Empire’s anti-Harpie campaigns. Former commander of the 7th Legion, now commanding all forces on the Equestrian continent. A master strategist who defeated the Elder Rams, earning the favor of the Empress herself,” Sirocco recited, then snickered at the next lines she read.

“He also apparently has quite the taste for rum, prefers older eaglesses with red fur, enjoys hot baths with eucalyptus oil, has a severe shellfish allergy and merits a Talaeus Centurion as an adjutant and bodyguard.”

She glanced at me before turning her attention back to the Consul, her expression turning into a sneer as she rolled the scroll back up and simply tossed it aside. “But I don’t need this dossier to know he is a coward who hides behind an alias and has others do his dirty work, ordering the death of fifteen-year old cubs.”

The Consul growled low and took a step forward, and I felt my own fury rising further as well. “Take care, Captain. My soldiers are howling for pony blood, and as you see fit to insult us further, I would not be averse to taking yours!” He pulled his sword from its scabbard, as my fellow Talaeus and I put our claws on our own blades. “For your cowardly attack and dishonorable conduct, you will surrender your command here and now, or we will reduce your base and all inside to ashes!”

Not at all intimidated, Sirocco grinned and lowered her head, deploying her wingblades with a sharp metal ring as they locked into place; the Guardsmare and Black Lance immediately followed suit. “Nothing would please me more than to wipe out your forces and take your lying head as a trophy, Consul. But sadly, I must decline. And I would strongly advise against attacking. For there is somepony else who wishes to speak to you…” The Corps Captain gave a gleeful grin and then looked behind her, over her left shoulder.

As if on cue, the area behind the three shimmered to reveal a massive force of ponies both in the air and on the ground, nearly a millennium strong. Not only was nearly the entire Gamma Army and Aerial Corps garrison present, but at the front a score or more of powerful Guardspony stallions suddenly appeared when the magical cloak that hid them dissolved.

Its removal revealed unicorn, pegasus and earth pony soldiers alike, weapons wielded; elite warriors ready and willing to fight. By their gold armor, they belonged to the Celestial Guard, and if they were here, that could only mean...

I had no chance to finish the thought before there was a bright burst of light and a final figure appeared in the midst of their formation, causing a series of sharp breaths behind me. She was a very large alabaster pony dressed in ornate gold armor which even covered her large pegasus wings and unicorn horn, out which spilled a flowing multi-hued mane and tail.

We recognized her on sight, but we had no idea she possessed such a resplendent suit of armor; one worthy of her status as ruler of Equestria. She was imposing enough without it, but with it, she looked like a warrior goddess right out of the old fantasy scrolls; a demon of vengeance ready to pass divine judgement on her enemies right then and there.

As I watched, I heard several Talons and Knights behind me break their bearing, whispering nervously to each other as she began walking towards us, leaving her soldiers and the protective formation of Guardsponies behind. I couldn’t fault their reaction—for how often did we get confronted by Princess Celestia herself?

Alicorn Anger

To his credit, Consul Gaius recovered from his shock quickly, which was more than I could say for most of us, several gryphons taking an involuntary step back from the large alicorn, keeper of the sun itself. Her presence was palpable and her power all but radiated off her, as did her ire.

“So, the mighty Celestia descends from upon high to mingle with the common rabble,” the now-revealed Legate said in Equish, sheathing his sword and sketching a bow as she stopped in front of him—something we gryphons only do before royalty. “I am honored.”

Celestia regarded him coolly. “What you should be is worried, Salvio Gaius,” the Solar Princess caused us to start again when she answered in perfect Aeric, an undercurrent in her voice I could only describe as ominous. “Know that I have not worn this armor in three hundred years. And know that I only wear it in times of conflict.”

“There is no conflict but the one you started!” Gaius switched to Aeric himself, more animated and angry than I had ever seen him. “Your attack on our base was an act of war!”

“The attack on your base was retaliation for three raids, nearly two dozen dead ponies, and one broken promise,” the Princess replied easily. “’Twas an attack you brought upon yourselves.”

“We knew nothing of the first two raids, and only sought to slay a traitor with the third—a traitor you hid from us!” The Consul was unrepentant.

“A traitor whose only crime, apparently, was being captured.” Celestia was unimpressed, speaking with the voice of one who knew a pile of droppings when she heard it. “And even were that true, it gave you no right to invade Equestrian territory and slay six other ponies to reach him.

“In any event, you will make no further attempt on his life. Know that young Gavian Ravenoff has asked for asylum in Equestria, and I have granted it,” she announced, showing him a scroll bearing a signed form written in both Aeric and Equish, though the signature consisted of a series of parallel scratch marks by talons dipped in ink—the mark left by a gryphon who could not read or write.

“How dare you…” Salvio Gaius could only sputter again as Celestia went on like he hadn’t even spoken.

“Apparently, he feels he has no future in your Empire given your agents just tried to kill him, and he now wishes to make his home with us. He is cooperating with us fully, and has already revealed some very curious facts…” Celestia began to circle the Consul, completely ignoring me and the other Red Talons flanking him.

We were not used to being ignored like that, but none of us moved to intervene for fear of what would happen if we did. Her power as an alicorn was said to be considerable, and even owing for hyperbole, the fact remained that she controlled the sun itself. We planned to take that control from her, of course, though ’twas only in the next few minutes we would realize that was far easier said than done.

“Facts like you have a large base outside of Cirrus Cassida, mustering forces far in excess of what would be required for simple defense. Like the presence there of siege equipment which could only be used to attack enemy cities. Or the full-scale recreations of Equestrian towns and outposts to practice storming. Or how your news services have been ginning up anger and hatred of ponies, even before our strike,” she said as she dropped a purloined official Empire information scroll at his feet, written in Aeric script.

“Do not take me for a foal, young general. These are all actions that would not be taken… unless you were preparing for invasion.” She leaned in close, daring him to deny it.

The revealed Consul remained silent, doing his best to meet the intimidating alicorn’s gaze evenly.

At some length, Celestia stepped back and raised her voice so all could hear; her magically-boosted words booming across the canyon. “So let us be clear, Salvio Gaius. I am not here to negotiate. I am here to spell out the terms of your continued existence,” she told us all, levitating a large scroll and unrolling it before the Consul.

“You will pass that to your Empress and superiors. It says exactly what I say now: Within one month, you will withdraw the bulk of your armed forces from this continent and reduce them to defensive strength—no more than thirty thousand soldiers,” she began.

“There will be no retaliation for the attack on Raptor Base. And further, there will be no more raids. No more ransoms. No more border breaches. No more dead or kidnapped soldiers. No more attacks on civilians. And no more excuses.

“You may not hide behind your raider groups or claim you had no knowledge of their activities as you have previously done. We now have proof that the raids on Epsilon were funded and directed by your Office of Owls, and thus, any activity by regular or irregular gryphon forces will henceforth be assumed to be Empire-sanctioned,” she outlined, allowing a hint of anger to enter her voice.

“Breaking these terms will be considered an act of war, resulting in immediate and full retaliation against your forward bases. They will be destroyed, the same as your Raptor Base was, and should you still not relent, the next round of storms will be targeted directly at your city of Cirrus Cassida,” she warned, and I felt a chill go through me—never mind the civilians there, that city was our only deepwater port; we could not supply our forces without it and our position on the continent would become untenable.

“Fail to surrender then, and we will take the offensive; our onslaught of storms and soldiers will not cease until the Gryphon Empire has been driven from this continent,” she said with surprising ease, startling us with how casually she might deliver such a threat given how many deaths were implicit in it. “However, I do not wish it to come to that. I would prefer for us to be friends, not enemies. There is much we could offer each other.”

“Friends?” Gaius hissed, his wings flaring in anger; equally irate growls were heard from the assembled forces behind him. “Hundreds of gryphons lie dead at your orders, you threaten the death of thousands more, and you speak now of friendship?” he spat out the word. “You have no honor!”

Celestia’s eyes flashed. “Do not presume to lecture me about honor, young general,” she told him quite sharply. “Where was your honor when you broke your own vow to respect the border, less than ten days after it was given? What is honorable about attacks on civilians? Where is the honor in misrepresenting your identity or ordering the death of a frightened fifteen-year old orphan cub?”

Abruptly, her expression contorted into a snarl. Methinks ‘twas all the Consul could do to not flinch back from it; for a moment I swore her eyes turned slitted. “Or in kidnapping soldiers for ransom as cover for implanting these in their heads, forcing them to engage in acts of espionage and attacks against their own side?” She all but hissed, then dropped a pile of rose crystal shards at his talons. She then reduced them to dust with her power, audibly crushing them in her magical grasp.

“Even without a war, such invasive magic would have driven them insane over time as it forced them to act against their very hearts, but you cared not, seeing them as little more than means to an end. And methinks that is far more dishonorable than anything you claim we are guilty of!”

There was nothing the Consul could say to that as he watched his carefully laid plans undone.

It was several seconds more before Celestia spoke again, more calmly. “For nearly a century, I have tolerated the gryphon presence on this continent and an occasional raid, despite the score or more of deaths you have inflicted on my ponies every year. For nearly a century, I have exercised great restraint in my dealings with your race.

I have offered friendship many times and it has been spurned. I have tried diplomacy and offered treaties with very generous terms, only to be ignored. I have tried limited retaliation. I have tried proportional response,” she further recited. “’Twas my hope that a few lost battles would convince you ’tis folly to fight us, but ’tis now clear I hoped in vain.

“My patience is at an end, and ’twas why I decided you needed to be reminded of the power we can bring to bear. The attack on your base was but a warning to cease your provocations, or worse would come.”

“A warning? Is that what you are calling the deaths of three hundred soldiers?” the Consul demanded to know. “Soldiers who neither took part in any raid or even knew what the Owls were doing? You retaliated against innocents!”

“Innocents… who were actively training for the invasion of Equestria,” she replied smoothly, then regarded him for a moment. “But perchance if it pleases you, I could order the assassination of the Owl agents responsible, and the mages who experimented on and implanted those gems in my ponies. Methinks I could further pass sentence here and now on the one who orchestrated this whole affair?” She looked pointedly at the Consul himself, who was all but ready to explode.

“Then kill me, Princess!” he challenged her, throwing his helm down and walking right up to her, baring his throat. “Prove you can sully your royal hooves! Prove you don’t have to hide behind your Guardsponies and Lances and can do your own ‘dirty work’, as your Captain described!” he goaded her. “You accuse me of cowardice? What do you call one who refuses to engage in honorable combat and instead threatens the deaths of thousands from afar?”

Celestia’s magenta eyes flashed, then cooled again. “And how many thousands of lives would your invasion have taken? How many maimed and orphaned? How many would have fallen on both sides for your mad vision of conquest, Consul? How many deaths would it have taken to satisfy your bloodlust and convince you your dream would only lead to disaster? Ten thousand? Fifty thousand? More?” she asked.

“You may keep your life, Salvio Gaius. Unlike you, I find no honor in death or killing. And I know full well that your career will soon be at an end thanks to this humiliation. That is punishment enough.”

“So you are as weak and as foolish as we were told!” The Consul smirked, ignoring the insult even though I knew she was likely correct—the Empire did not take kindly to such debacles as had happened in the past few weeks, especially ones that reflected badly on the Empress herself.

“Such exquisite armor, but have you ever soiled it? Or do you simply look pretty in it, Princess?” he needled her further. I couldn’t help but admire him for his sheer… I would later learn the pony term for it was ‘horse apples’, and it certainly fit him here as he tried to get Celestia to martyr him. “And storms or no, the idea that you could invade us is laughable given our disparity in numbers. But should we invade, what could even you do against the full military might of the Empire?”

She stared at him in utter disbelief as Captain Sirocco and the Guardsmare visibly sneered; even the stoic Guardspony stallions behind her had suddenly curled lips. “Your ignorance would be amusing, were it not so appalling and dangerous. You clearly know nothing about me or pony history if you wouldst even ask that question. And you call yourself a strategist?”

Celestia’s air was that of an adult being spoken back to by a cub. “Were you my general, I would dismiss you immediately for ignoring the first and most basic rule of warfare: know thy enemy.

“’Tis a lesson I internalized long ago as I have lived thirty times your lifespan, young gryphon, and one you wouldst do well to heed. I have in fact fought many wars, as my own sister can attest,” she said bitterly, closing her eyes in pain for a moment. Her words gave me pause—then ’twas true what the elders said; that the Mare in the Moon was the lost Princess Luna, banished in battle there by her own sister?

“I have fought and I have killed; I have more blood on my hooves than you could ever know. In eleven centuries of life, I have seen enough of war to know intimately its wrath and ruin. ’Tis why I have no wish to ever wage it again. But as it seems you mistake my reluctance for weakness, perchance a demonstration is in order…”

Her eyes and horn began to glow ominously and flames suddenly leaped up around her, causing the Consul to take an involuntary step back.

Unstoppable

With that, her mane and tail turned from pastel hues to golden fire, the radiant heat alone enough to make us all recoil. We’d barely had time to register that before a wave of magic bowled us all over, knocking us backwards, threatening to blast us right off the cliff.

Her eyes and horn glowed blindingly bright and she spread her large and bladed alabaster wings to take flight above us, flames suddenly whipping hard around her as the wind began howling, causing several soldiers to flinch in flashback to the earlier storm. Electricity crackled around her and without warning, countless bolts of lightning impacted the ground around us in rapid succession. Some struck within bare inches of our bodies, making our ears ring and causing our fur and feathers to stand on end.

’Twas elemental magic, a far more powerful and practiced variant of our mages’ lightning spell, one that could attack many instead of singly, making clear she could strike us all down in mere moments should she so choose.

A Magus Knight panicked at a near miss and deployed her shield, causing the others present to immediately follow suit. Celestia then focused her power on them, crushing their protective bubbles and shattering their staves, causing them to squawk in pain as they all but exploded in their grasp. Convinced she was going to kill us, several less disciplined Auxiliary Guard soldiers threw spears and fired their crossbows, but their bolts never reached her as they were halted mid-flight, shattered and melted, blades, shields and bows yanked out of their owners’ talons and then likewise crushed in her aura’s grasp.

Having disarmed us, she next demonstrated the sheer strength of her Alicorn aura by tearing apart the mesa around us. As the ground beneath us shook violently, she ripped out dozens of large rocks from the desert floor and then began circling them around her with increasing speed and orbit, making clear she could use them to annihilate nearby flyers; their presence making her impossible to approach. Once she tired of that, she simply turned them into missiles and sent them shooting downward, impacting the ground around us with more than enough force to kill had they been aimed at us, throwing up great gouts of dirt and dust.

As if she hadn’t demonstrated our helplessness before her enough, she then proved her massive wingblades weren’t for show as she charged them with magic and made whipping motions with them, sending out visible bladelike waves of aura. They sizzled through the air at speeds far too fast to dodge and then sliced right through solid rock; one even took off the top of a heavy Fortis Knight shield with no effort, cutting within an inch of its cringing owner’s head.

But the coup de grâce of her display was to generate a massive airborne inferno within seconds, demonstrating the full power of her sun-fed elemental fire by adding a wind spell to it. She expertly channeled the inflow to form a flaming funnel cloud that reached dangerously close to us, coming near enough to singe our fur and make our armor uncomfortably hot; the tornado’s powerful suction threatening to inhale us and cook us alive within its fiery form.

Its burning wind pulled painfully hard at the air around us, causing several Talons behind us to squawk in fear; some even dropped their spears and cowered; the memories of the superstorm that destroyed Raptor still fresh. But instead of setting it loose on us, she turned her horrific magical creation on a nearby mesa…

And sheathed it in a massive vortex of sheer flame, reducing it and everything on it to cinders in seconds. She continued her assault on the large rock formation until she had reduced it to slag. Molten spall was flung outward by the twister in every direction, showering the mesa we stood on with fiery fragments and igniting the scrub brush around us. But we were unharmed as Guardspony unicorns threw up shields large enough to protect pony and gryphon alike, insulting us further by protecting us when we no longer could.

But such thoughts paled in comparison to the display we had just seen. If her purpose was to scare us half out of our wits, I’m sorry to say she succeeded, as even my fellow Red Talons looked shaken. ’Twas all I could do to keep my bearing as well, suddenly glad that my black fur dye would hide my sweat. The power she showed was sufficient to consume cities and annihilate entire armies; a power we could not hope to match.

Her demonstration complete and having proved beyond all doubt she could obliterate us instantly in at least eight different ways, the Alicorn Princess returned to earth and stood before Gaius again, glaring down at him, her mane and tail reverting to its more placid state. “’Twas but a taste of my combat magic. I honed such craft in war with my sister and can do far worse. I trust I do not have to demonstrate that fact as well?” she asked mildly. “Pray I am never compelled to take the field against your forces, young general. Or you will regret it immensely.”

When he didn’t reply—for what could he say to that?—she went on, raising her voice again to address all of us. “Whether you believe this or not, I hold no hatred for gryphons and wish your race no ill. I have no desire to fight or conquer, and I take no pleasure in such displays,” she told us all before turning her attention back to Gaius. “But if you wouldst force me to… the power I can bring to bear can destroy your armies utterly. ’Tis power I do not want to use, but be assured ’tis power I will use in defense of all I hold dear.

“So whatever you are planning, Salvio Gaius, I strongly suggest you think again. Start a fight, and we will finish it. Start a war… and I will finish it,” she promised, making a show of turning her mane and tail to flames again to drive her point home.

“These terms are non-negotiable. You have one month to withdraw the bulk of your forces from the Equestrian continent, and you will respect the border from this day forward. Be assured, we will be watching, and failure to comply will result in dire consequences. This is your only warning.”

Temporary Peace

The ride back to Epsilon was spent in silence.

The princess’ display of power was unquestionably exhilarating, and ’twas worth attending the parley just to see the looks of sheer terror on the gryphon faces and their fraudulent Consul reduced to a sputtering mess to see it.

But ’twas also troubling, the destructive force she could wield, and ’twas hard to look upon Celestia the same way after. ’Twas particularly troubling knowing that by her own admission, she had in fact used such power in war before, and worse, against fellow ponies of her sister’s army. My own flirtation with such power when the Alicorn Amulet tried to possess me had taught me the truth of the old saying, ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it did not on some level apply to the Princess too.

Celestia herself seemed subdued as well. She removed her armor as soon as she felt able, sending it with a flare of her horn back to its vault in Canterlot. She sighed with relief and, noticing me staring at her, offered me a reassuring grin. “I am sorry you had to see me like that, Commander. ’Tis a side of myself I do not like showing,” she confided. “’Tis but a callback to unhappier days, times when I nearly lost my way.” She would say no more than that, and I would not press her further.

She had dinner with the Epsilon garrison, then went back to my stateroom for a private chat with Gavian I was not privy to. She emerged with him later and took him outside with her, making a show of removing his wing restraints and shackles publicly in front of the soldiers.

Once she had given him a ritual oath of allegiance—an oath he was only too eager to recite—she then announced that by her order, he was now an Equestrian subject with all rights therein; free to come and go as he pleased. “Our new friend has averted a war and in fact saved many lives, on both sides. He has my thanks, and I should hope all of yours as well,” she told the stunned soldiers watching.

And then, to the added shock of all, she hugged him, making it clear she accepted him. I couldn’t help but grin—she had done what I could not; her display would silence the neighsaying about him once and for all. She turned to leave, but just as she was about to step away he shyly called her back. He then offered her a piece of parchment, on which he had drawn…

Celestia smiled, and so did I. And for one day at least, all was well.

Author's Note

Needless to say, this is NOT the end, folks. What makes the gryhpons in general and Consul Gaius in particular so dangerous is that they can adapt and learn from their mistakes. It’s a hardly a spoiler for me to say that war is not averted, only delayed.

Nevertheless, I hope you liked seeing Celly lay down the law with them. This is how I envision her—tremendously powerful but reluctant to use that power, knowing the destruction she can wreak and the pony she nearly once became. You’ll have some insights on that if you read The Lawyer and The Unicorn, which is available through my story page since it’s M-rated, but does delve into Celly’s backstory in some surprising ways. If not, think of RainbowDoubleDash’s Lunaverse, where Celestia was the one who went insane and was banished, and know that in this verse, she once faced a crossroads that might have led there, and she knows it.

Thanks as always to co-writer Leo Archon, who added to or improved several sections, and to prereaders AJ_Aficionado, Denim Blue, SilentWoodFire and James CyberLink. The last two are responsible for the bulk of the musical selections in this chapter.

Art credits go to Bronyfang for the Celestia sketch, and Equumamici for the badass Celestia animation.

Part 13 - Vigiliance

Some readers may ask why, in a biography about me, so many other ponies and gryphons are contributing their side of the story. And the answer is very simple: that my story is not complete without theirs.

That my story would not have happened without theirs; that I would not have become the pony I did without them. Our lives and destinies were deeply intertwined, and to tell my story alone would be to do not just them, but all who fought and died on both sides of the war a grave injustice.

Then-Centurion Layan Kaval is both friend and former foe. He is revered and reviled by ponies and gryphons alike for his actions during the war, but I bear him no ill will. ’Tis certain he was the mightiest and most honorable warrior I ever met, and perchance it was fate that brought us together on the field of battle; that eventually turned the bitterest of foes into the best of friends.

I thank you for your kindness, Captain. You honor me with your words and willingness to pass me your pen. Though ’tis certain that at this point in my story, I was not the honorable tiercel you wouldst one day know me as. For one of the worst things you can ever ask a gryphon warrior to do is retreat.

Second only to surrender without a fight.

—Layan Kaval

Unfriendly Allies

Two weeks after the devastating storm struck Raptor Base, the dead had been burned and the wounded evacuated. There were few soldiers left at the once-formidable facility but a bare cohort, whose only task was to remove or destroy anything left of value.

By the Consul’s order, all our forces were being pulled back from the Equestrian frontier, leaving the border unguarded except for magical sensors to detect intrusions. The forward bases had been intended to allow us the ability to launch the initial phase of invasion instantly and with overwhelming force, but had proven far too vulnerable to pony weather control; they could spin up a storm too quickly for us to evacuate them or our forces to take cover in time.

Far worse than the storm, however, was the parley that followed. Word of Celestia’s appearance and power had spread like wildfire through the ranks, to the point that some Auxiliary Guard soldiers were deserting, refusing to fight the ponies.

Even when threatened with death, they did not waver, saying there was no honor in suicide—that they would not risk their homes, farms and families against such overwhelming might, fearful of bringing the wrath of the heavens or Celestia herself down upon them. Fear was contagious, and I’m sure the Sun Princess knew it; I even heard rumblings within the Red Talon ranks themselves that ’twas folly to fight her, and we should simply quit the continent entirely.

I had done what I could to silence such talk with sharp orders, and when necessary, the sharp point of my blade, but the damage to morale was done. Everyone could see we were retreating and knew why. The Consul himself was livid at Celestia’s condescension, and I cannot say I was any less so, wanting desperately to strike back but having no means to do so—at least, none that would not result in far worse being visited on us.

“What will we do, my lord?” I asked, still keen on visiting some retaliation on the ponies who had done this to us. There had to be a way to defeat Celestia, and if any gryphon could find it, ‘twas the brilliant mind before me.

“For now, what we are told,” he bit out as he finished writing his final order, affixing his seal and leaving his desk as neat as possible for the summons he knew was coming. “They will be watching, and they have us at a disadvantage right now.”

“One might say we are being held by the throat,” I muttered in response, painful though the admission was.

Gaius shook his head at that. “They only truly have us by the throat when you can feel them squeeze. No, this is not the end, Centurion. Far from it,” he told me, his mind clearly turning. But before anything more could be said, the flap of the tent we were meeting in was opened, and in strode a group of gryphons.

There were seven of them, all unusually large warriors, split equally between sky and earth gryphons, eaglesses and tiercels. They wore deep green armor with black helms and weapons, still sheathed, though I noticed some appraising and wary eyes on me with their owners’ talons moving towards sword hilts, in case I decided to initiate hostilities.

Their arrival had been expected, but still unwelcome. They were simply known as The Paladins, guardians of the Imperial Order and protectors of the Empress herself. If they were here, it could only be to take the Consul into custody and bring him before the Empress—unless, of course, they had been directed to slay him on the spot and only return his body. Sometimes such orders were given for particularly egregious failures in judgement, such as what the Consul himself had done to the young magus trainee that had succumbed to the temptations of Hildyra’s raider group.

Their presence meant that whatever orders they had came from the Empress herself. Nevertheless, Salvio Gaius was still my superior, and I had sworn an oath to protect him. So I did so here, planting myself in front of him. “State your intentions, Paladins.”

Their leader was a tiercel that dwarfed me in size; his strength and stature artificially enhanced by potions, and he pinned me with a stare. “Stand aside, Talaeus,” he ordered in no uncertain terms, but made no move to pass me, perhaps knowing my reputation. “We are not here for you; we are here for your master.”

“And my master he remains until I hear valid orders to the contrary,” I responded, making clear I would still defend him if needs be.

“As you wish.” He sat in front of me and unfurled a scroll, the other Paladins flanking him three to a side. “Consul Salvio Gaius, I am Exarch Rhitatyn of the Imperial Paladin Order,” he announced, reminding me that the Paladins still used archaic rank structures dating back to feudal times.

“By order of Empress Palamecia, you are hereby relieved of command. You are directed to return to Aresia and stand trial before the Imperial High Council for gross incompetence and dishonoring the name of the Empire. I will supervise the continued withdrawal of our troops from Equis,” he spat out the distasteful phrase, showing me the signed order bearing the seal of the Empress herself. “You will be escorted back to Mosclaw, where you will answer to the Empress for the humiliation you have visited upon her.”

I relaxed, but only fractionally. So they weren’t going to kill him on the spot, at least, though being called before the Empress under such circumstances was normally tantamount to a death sentence. “Then I demand the right to return with him and speak for him.” I stepped forward menacingly.

The Exarch’s eyes narrowed. “You do not make demands here, Talaeus,” he told me as his fellow Paladins drew their weapons. I did not immediately do the same, but instead ignored them completely and kept my gaze fixed on the leader. It could be construed as an insult to their abilities, implying that they were not worth my time.

Which, as far as I was concerned, they were not. The Paladins, for all their size and reputation, were mostly ceremonial in function, never leaving the capital of Mosclaw except in special circumstances like these. As such, their combat experience was practically nonexistent, and after a week of having my fighting blood up with no way to relieve it, I would have been more than happy to demonstrate the difference between them and I.

“Stand down, Centurion,” the Consul spoke for the first time since the Paladins had entered the tent. His voice was suddenly weary, resigned to his fate. “You honor me with your loyalty, but ’tis simply not the time.” He drew himself up and stepped past me to present himself to the leader, baring his throat in signal that he was willingly submitting himself to their custody.

“I will face the Empress as instructed, Exarch. I have left everything in order and laid out for you. You will find the withdrawal timetable already set, and if you like, my personal supply of rum is in the lower-right cabinet of the desk.”

Exarch Rhitatyn sneered. “That you wouldst keep drink in your desk does not speak well to your commitment or discipline, Consul.”

The Consul smiled wanly. “Nevertheless, I’m sure before long in this post, you will find it as necessary as I did,” he replied, and then turned to me. “Your accompaniment on my journey would be appreciated, my friend. But before you join me… I do ask that you obtain some items for the trip.” He passed me a scroll.

It was snatched from his grasp before it reached me. “And what is this? Instructions to enable your escape?” the Exarch asked suspiciously before scanning it. He then looked up at his new prisoner, visibly surprised at what he saw.

“As you can see, it is just some… reading material,” the Consul said with a slightly coy grin. “I simply wish to further my intellectual pursuits on the long journey home.”

Exarch Rhitatyn’s sneer deepened. “So this is how you wouldst spend your final weeks of life? So be it.” He tossed the scroll at me contemptuously, and I was scarcely less surprised than he to see what was on it. “Arrest him,” he ordered, and the remaining Paladins did so, none too gently.

The Consul took it far better than I would, allowing himself to be handled roughly as I could raise nary a talon in his defense.

Still, he never lost his smile, turning his gaze on me before he was removed. “I trust you to do whatever is necessary to obtain me these items, my friend,” he told me as shackles were placed upon his legs and wings. “And whatever happens, I wish you to know it has been an honor to serve with you.”

“The honor is mine,” I said and meant it, baring my throat and saluting him for what I feared would be the final time, ignoring the looks of contempt the Paladins gave me. When he had left, I studied the list again. I did not yet understand why he wanted these things, the obtaining of which ’twould certainly entail some risk. But I was not without resources of my own. There were some favors owed me by the Owls, and perchance ’twas time for them to be repaid.

Developments

’Twas hard to believe it had already been a month since the parley. ’Twas harder still to believe all the changes that had happened in the interim, from the large and newly-rebuilt Outpost Epsilon to the improvement in attitude and ability of my soldiers.

Celestia had left several parting gifts, both for me and for Gavian. Seeing his drawing talents, she had dispatched her aides to obtain him some real art equipment from a nearby town, plying him with pens and inks, papers and paints, all of which he was delighted to receive and soon experimenting with. ’Twasn’t long before a corner of my stateroom was turned into a studio, and I willingly ceded the space to him, even standing for him as he sketched me for my first portrait.

’Twas fascinating to watch him suddenly bloom and flourish; the longer he stayed with us the healthier in body and happier in spirit he seemed. His initially dull coat was beginning to all but glow, becoming more vivid, even his previously pale green eyes were becoming more pronounced in their hue. The barely-seen leopard spots he possessed on his gold-furred hindquarters were becoming quite prominent as he began to fill out and get stronger; he was even starting to chance flying our obstacle courses, trying to build up his flying ability and wing strength. For as malnourished as he’d been, he still had a long way to go, and I suspected he was always going to be a bit small for a gryphon. But he was finally coming to see that his size wasn’t a handicap or something to be ashamed of, as coming to Equestria finally let him develop his talents and abilities in ways the Empire would never have allowed.

It also helped that he felt quite safe, though the Princess’s other gift went a long way towards his feeling of security. She had left several of her own personal guard at the base; three Celestial Guardsponies had volunteered to stay and protect Gavian as a very visible sign of her favor and acceptance of him. I’d been very surprised when they’d presented themselves to me at sundown the day of the parley, just before Celestia left to return to Canterlot—Spear Sergeant Steelheart, Master Sergeant Stormrunner and First Sergeant Still Way—an earth pony, pegasus and unicorn stallion, respectively.

I was glad to have them. Unlike some of the more belligerent Guardsponies I’d met, these three were accomplished veterans—they’d have to be in order to wear the gold armor of Celestia’s personal guard—who were loyal to the princess first and had no apparent issues with me, particularly after they tested me themselves and found I was their equal or better. It might have been problematic that two of them outranked me, but Captain Typhoon ended any potential issues quickly by seconding them to the Aerial Corps as I was, meaning they were subject to the Corps chain of command and thus subservient to the base commander regardless of rank. With at least one Celestial Guardspony watching over Gavian along with me and Swift Strike, giving him at least two reliable bodyguards at all times, I started allowing him more freedom of movement inside and even outside the base.

Attitudes towards Gavian were improving as well. We repurposed a Raven vest, and after sending it into a nearby town for repairs and some tailoring to fit him, dyed it the same sky-blue color as Aerial Corps uniforms, and he wore it quite happily, even cutting his headfeathers short like a pony military mane. Most of the grumbling over him was gone, and some Corps soldiers were even starting to treat him as a base mascot of sorts. I wasn’t altogether happy about that—’twas still a form of looking down on him—but ’twas certainly a vast improvement from just a few weeks earlier. At least I wasn’t so much worried about his safety from my own soldiers as before.

Nor did we worry much about the gryphons any longer. The Lances were reporting that they were evacuating their forward bases, and full troop transports were leaving the continent daily. On the other hoof, it did appear that they were reducing their ranks somewhat by simply releasing soldiers from service, meaning they could swell their numbers again quickly if needed… but that could not in itself be considered a breach of Celestia’s terms, and recalled soldiers would not be effective right away. Training, both individual and as a unit, had to be constant, or soldiers would lose their edge.

To little surprise, there’d been no further incursions into Equestrian territory after Celestia’s demonstration of power. The Lances further reported that Consul Gaius had been relieved of command, taken back to the Gryphon homeland to face probable execution for the insult to the Empire’s honor that had happened on his watch.

I would shed him no tears; in the end he’d proven no ‘master strategist’ at all in my view. From what I could glean of his overly-complicated plans, he’d forgotten two cardinal rules of military operations—simplicity and secrecy. He’d been trying to be too clever by half and the end result was that it took just one mistake to unravel his entire strategy; the end result was the complete collapse of his plans and having his head handed to him by someone far more schooled in the military arts than he. Even if he was spared, I doubted he’d ever live down the lecture Celestia had given him or being told to his face by a pony princess that he was a poor general.

After seeing her in action, it gave me great comfort to know that Celestia was no novice in the science of warfare herself and had our backs if need be. ’Tis worth saying that I did not begrudge her for not intervening sooner as some ponies did. She could not be everywhere, and we needed to be able to take care of ourselves without her; not be dependent on her.

In accordance with the Princess’s orders, we were also taking deliveries of storm clouds, stockpiling them in a vault the earth ponies were digging out of the canyon rock around us. The Princess had not been exaggerating—our instructions, which I was happy to receive, were to automatically and overwhelmingly retaliate against any gryphon attack no matter its size or nature, raze their base of operations with a tempest and then follow up with an immediate raid to capture or kill the surviving planners.

’Twould seem sanity had finally prevailed in high command, for ’twas now clear that we were to treat any attack or border incursion as an act of war, and hit back hard in the same manner as we had against Raptor Base. Alone amongst the border outposts, Epsilon did not have a gryphon base opposite it, so our soldiers and cloud supply would serve as a tactical reserve if needed. Of course, with the forward gryphon bases now shut down or greatly reduced, using a storm would be overkill, but I still couldn’t help but hope we’d get the opportunity to make one someday.

Still, ’twas certain to me the Gryphons would not be so easily cowed, and I vowed to redouble my garrison’s training, bringing them up closer to Guardspony levels of ability. “They will come again. And we must be ready.” Captain Sirocco’s warnings from the first memorial service echoed in my mind once more. From the kidnappings and crystal implants to the attempt on Gavian’s life, they had shown themselves to be nothing if not determined and dangerously clever. I had no doubt Gaius or his successor was already searching for ways around Celestia’s threats, ways to neutralize the sun princess herself. In my heart, I knew we would never truly be safe… and neither would Gavian. Thus… I reached a decision which I knew might not be popular with my soldiers again, but one I nonetheless felt was right.

My duties complete one evening in late January, I entered my stateroom carrying a very special item and called Gavian over, Fell Flight at my side. He obeyed instantly as I stood before him, sat back and unsheathed a captured Raven scimitar, studying it. Its hilt was not meant to be held by pony hooves, but I managed, giving it an experimental swing. ’Twas quite sharp and had a nice weight and feel to it; I found it surprisingly well-balanced and even elegant. Properly wielded, ’twas certainly a match for pegasus wingblades, as I myself could now attest. Nodding in satisfaction, I re-sheathed the blade and turned back towards Gavian, who was watching somewhat warily, uncertain of my intentions.

“This sword is now yours, Gavian,” I told him, holding it out for him to take. “If you’re going to start leaving the base, I want you to have the ability to defend yourself. If you are attacked again, whether by pony or by gryphon, use it to defend your life,” I instructed, waiting for Fell Flight’s translation to catch up.

He gave me a shocked look, but finally reached out to take it and the scabbard harness that would strap it to his back, clutching it all to him, staring at me in awe. I didn’t realize it then, but giving a gryphon a weapon in such a manner was considered high honor and a mark of greatest respect.

“Thank… you...” he told me in Equish again, tears in his eyes as he stepped back and gave me a salute—in the pony manner, not the gryphon one. “But…” he said one more Equish word I hadn’t heard from him before before turning to Fell Flight, addressing her in Aeric before going downcast. She blinked, then turned to me.

“He says he has no training in how to use it. The raiders never taught him.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head in disbelief, wondering again how the Empire could be so callous as to let one of their own cubs wander the streets and remain so wretched. “Then we shall teach him,” I promised. “And his lessons begin now…”

Friendly Allies

The Guardsmare Commander, my first-ever friend, was as good as her word.

The next few weeks passed swiftly for me, a blur of various kinds of schooling as I was attended to by many different teachers—it turned out she hadn’t just been referring to sword training when she said my lessons would begin immediately. I was taught reading and math by the commander herself, and given language lessons by Fell Flight.

I excelled at some and struggled with others, but with my mind as hungry for knowledge as much as my body had previously been for food, I absorbed them almost as well as the sponges I bathed with soaked up the water from the tub, delighting in the unfamiliar yet delicious feel of being clean.

Self-defense training was surprisingly prominent amongst my other studies, however. The stallion named Swift Strike taught me the basics of gryphon sword art out of view of other pegasi, giving me lessons in the commander’s stateroom as Firefly herself or one of the three Guardsponies looked on.

Thankfully, it turned out he spoke Aeric too—’twas hardly a surprise to learn it was required knowledge for being a Black Lance, though he asked me not to spread that fact around. I more or less understood that he was trying to hide his identity, though I’m sure a few passing ponies wondered why there were always sharp sounds of clashing blades as we practiced.

I was very slow and clumsy at first, and the Raven scimitar itself was a bit heavy to my grasp, making it difficult to wield. He was very patient with me, however, as he showed me gryphon fighting forms and gave me basic drills in them, even wielding a second sword beside me in his hooves so I could follow his movements.

His body didn’t work quite the same as a gryphon’s, but it was enough for me to get the idea; what he couldn’t show me by example he could simply explain, like how my little talon should be pressed into the bottom of the hilt, not wrapped around it.

When I asked how he knew all this, he gave me a slightly coy smile and said only that studying sword arts “was something of a hobby” of his, and that “methinks immersion is the best teacher.”

Nonetheless, ’twas very hard for me at first. I felt embarrassed by how small and weak I was, but he just smiled and pointed out how small he was, saying that “methinks size and strength are overrated… no offense, Spear Sergeant Steelheart,” he added to the earth pony Guardspony at the door, who smirked, confirming he spoke Aeric too.

“Judge me by my size, do you?” he later asked me somewhat jovially, and I immediately shook my head. “Then don’t worry about your own. With time and practice, methinks you can be as good as me, Gavian—so fast and quick nopony can touch you,” he promised, showing me some genuine affection by giving my head feathers a ruffle with his hoof.

Though gratified, I didn’t quite believe him—me, the equal of a Black Lance who could take down experienced assassins and block crossbow bolts with his wingblades?—but finally finding myself properly trained and encouraged, I did get steadily better and before long I was practicing with my new sword as much as with my new paints.

When my lessons were over, he trained the commander herself as she came off duty. ’Twas only then I understood how good he really was as he bested her in blade fights repeatedly at first, even without using his full speed. The commander was certainly no slouch in speed or strength, and the action between them was so fast I could barely follow it; sparks flying from their blades as they met. But even she couldn’t keep up with him at first, finding his blades at her throat repeatedly as they sparred.

But whereas a gryphon might have taken a defeat as an insult to personal honor and demand a duel for it, she set the example for me by taking her defeats with a smile and determination to learn from them, committing her mistakes and the advice she received to memory. She got better quickly under his tutelage and within a few weeks was holding her own quite well, even if she still couldn’t seem to best him.

The other ponies at the base were slowly coming around to me, though ’twas my sense I was still being looked down upon. Attitudes towards me generally ranged from indifference to barely concealed hostility, but there were a few who seemed to genuinely like me, cheering me on as I tried to navigate the obstacle courses. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that even for them, it was the kind of affection you wouldst reserve for a favored pet, and ’twould be a lie to say it did not bother me a bit.

Still, ’twas certainly a great improvement over what it had been before. Even when I left the stateroom to walk or fly around, I always had a protector with me, either the commander or Swift Strike or one of the Celestial Guardsponies watching over me. For the latter, ’twas certain I found them very intimidating at first; massive stallions who looked upon me none-too-favorably, though I quickly found that regardless of their personal feelings I could trust them to protect me. Over time, methinks even they started to warm up to me a bit, as the earth pony gave me some language lessons and the unicorn stallion in particular seemed to take an interest in me, even promising to teach me some meditative techniques when I was bit more fluent in Equish.

It seemed ’twouldn’t be long before I was. I was starting to pick up the pony language more readily after two months of being immersed in it, getting at least the bare meaning of most spoken sentences as I was now understanding about every second or third word said to me. I now knew many phrases and could even count in Equish, trained by Fell Flight over meals and on rare occasion when I visited her in the watchtower, coming out to explore the rebuilt base at night.

Mealtimes were slightly problematic in that unlike the ponies, I needed the protein that only meat could provide, but the commander’s second surprised me by sitting down with me one evening to share a fish she’d caught, explaining that her thestral blood made her more amenable to meat-eating than most ponies.

“’Tis a rare treat for me, as my mother would sometimes prepare one,” she noted, going on to explain that she, too, had been an outcast wherever she went, her mixed blood making her a pariah amongst both thestrals and other pony races. She went to share some of her story with me, explaining she had finally found a home in the Aerial Corps after a foalhood full of insults and ostracization.

But even there, acceptance of her mixed-race heritage was quite grudging at first, forcing her to prove herself many times over and drive herself to be the best flyer and fighter she could be. “So methinks I know what it is to stand out, Gavian. Even more so than Commander Firefly,” she told me, her normally severe expression softening for just a moment. “Perchance I misjudged you at first. She told me you were worth saving, and I have come to see she was right. You have done us all a great service, so do not fear to come to me for advice or help when you need it. I would even go hunting with you, if you wish to try it.”

That startled me most of all—a pony that hunted? “But why wouldst you do this for me?” I had to ask her. “You didn’t like me at all before, and it would cause you trouble if other ponies learnt you ate meat. You have worked hard to get where you are. So why wouldst you wish to risk it all for my sake?” I had to ask.

She stared at me for a moment, then suddenly looked down in something akin to disbelief, shaking her head and chuckling to herself in an odd manner. Then she smiled at me and said a phrase I thought I’d never hear from her or anypony else; a phrase I would in fact hear—and speak!—many times in the years to come:

“Is that not what friends do?”

Spring Training

The beginning of March found me settling into my command quite nicely. Even Sirocco and Sundiver were impressed at what they saw when they visited, finding the readiness of my soldiers now well above average, a product of some unusual training protocols I’d instituted.

To begin with, I had ordered my unicorn healers to undergo combat training, taught by First Sergeant Still Way. This caused much protest on their parts, several initially refusing to participate, one even breaking protocol to tell me that “for Celestia’s sake, ma’am, I’m a healer, not a spellslinger!”

My unamused response was blunt: that he’d be a corpse if he couldn’t defend himself, reminding him that gryphon raiders did not respect the medical profession and we’d lost nearly our entire healer team in the earlier raid. When they still resisted, I showed them the gravestone where the names of four dead unicorns, including two stallions, were recorded, asking them if they thought their good intentions would protect them from talons, scimitars and crossbow bolts.

When they insisted somewhat more weakly that after Celestia’s intervention the gryphons would never come again, I asked simply if they would be willing to bet their lives and that of their patients on it, and if they relished the idea of watching the wounded in their care cut down while they stood by helplessly, unable to protect them.

That finally shut them up, and Still Way proved to be an excellent instructor, teaching them the meditative arts they’d need to fully focus their power. Within a few weeks, they had learned to cast shields and other defensive spells, though I didn’t think they’d be much good for offensive magic—’twas in their nature to save lives, not take them, after all. One or two showed some promise with borrowed longbows, at least.

As Still Way taught the unicorns and Swift Strike taught Gavian and myself, I availed myself of the services of Spear Sergeant Steelheart and Master Sergeant Stormrunner to improve the abilities of my rank-and-file. The latter, by chance, had done a stint as a trainer at Fort Spur, and he used that experience here, running morning drills not far removed from what I’d experienced as a trainee.

He couldn’t give my troops the full Guardspony basic training treatment of course—the majority of mares were combat veterans and would not take kindly to being treated as raw recruits—but he made clear that our skill level was no fluke, a product of our intense training as he proved nearly my equal in the air, as befit a member of the Celestial Guard.

Our matches came to be a regular attraction, even occasionally bet on as he was very nearly as good as Windshear. To my great surprise he even bested me a couple times once he’d gotten a feel for my fighting styles, reminding me again that no matter how good you got, there was always room to get better.

But as I’d learned in basic, defeat was but another opportunity to learn, and we both improved our combat skills further for it. Likewise with Swift Strike’s training, which was in some ways even more frustrating. Part of me simply would not accept that this slight stallion could defeat me, but he did so repeatedly, as his speed and reaction times were simply blinding and my strength seemed to count for nothing against him.

A month after beginning lessons with him, I still hadn’t beaten him, though I’d certainly gotten markedly better with my blades under his tutelage and swore I would before all was said and done.

For his part, Spear Sergeant Steelheart ran strength and conditioning drills at my request, having the Aerial Corps soldiers practice flying and fighting in weighted uniforms. For Guardsponies, that was in order to learn how to carry and fight in their armor effectively, but for the Corps soldiers it would simply be to improve their speed and strength above the already-stringent Aerial Corps norms. There was much grumbling at first, but as I made a point to take part in the drills myself wearing full armor, they couldn’t complain too much.

Especially not after they saw their results. Within mere weeks overall fitness scores were dramatically improved under my programme, and a few soldiers in particular like Fell Flight were rapidly approaching Guardspony levels of ability—a fact confirmed when I sparred with her one day and she lasted nearly a full minute against me; I could see the delight in her eyes as she realized she was finally catching up to me. I began training her one-on-one myself and before long she was an excellent sparring partner, one I had no trouble seeing as Guardspony material herself.

For all that, I would still not say that I was popular with my forces outside of those who had fought with me before the holidays, but ’twas certain I was respected. I had learned from Lieutenant Sundiver that the carrot-and-stick approach to leadership worked well, and applied his lessons over the course of those first few months of the year, trying to be firm but fair, rewarding and punishing in equal measures. I kept my promise to grant leave to all new combat veterans on a rotating basis, meeting with each mare and stallion individually before departure to ask them to consider what was worth fighting for whilst they visited their loved ones.

’Twas not always successful, as a half-dozen soldiers did decide to quit or request transfer, unable to cope with what had happened or the difficult training regimes we were imposing. But for many others it worked, as Blindside returned from her weeklong leave a new mare, having visited her mother and an old mentor of hers—a former Aerial Corps Lieutenant who had shared some wisdom with her; a stallion I would come to know quite well myself in due time.

Her combat abilities already excellent and having missed her report writing and organizational skills, I officially named her my adjutant and requested her promotion to Sergeant, which Captain Sirocco granted quite quickly, having noted the difference in my daily reports between when my new friend was here and when she wasn’t. She also took to the new training regime quite well, and before long nopony short of me or Stormrunner—or Fell Flight on a very good day—could touch her.

Still, as successful as my Guardspony-inspired training programs proved, not all my wishes were fulfilled. I was told in late February that despite repeated requests there would be no Equestrian Army contingent stationed at the base as there was at Gamma.

I had asked for a platoon of earth ponies and unicorns to be assigned to Epsilon as a counter for earth gryphons and mages, but was told the Army would not consent to their presence on an Aerial Corps outpost—service rivalries still reigned supreme, I noted with some disgust.

When I asked why Gamma rated them and not other Aerial Corps bases, I was told by Sirocco it was mostly because their presence was needed for parleys, and there was in fact very little coordination or cross-training between the two services.

Even then I couldn’t help but wonder that if it came to war, the gryphons would prove less the enemy than our own outdated traditions born of foalish pride.

Nevertheless, things were going quite well at the outpost as spring approached, and I made ready to depart the base for a trip of my own, leaving Fell Flight in charge. I told a slightly-nervous Gavian to keep to his studies and training in the meantime, giving him a parting hug and promising him he would be safe in my absence.

’Twas not leave that pulled me away, but a personal request to Captain Typhoon to let me visit Fort Spur.

For Wind Whistler would be entering basic training within a week.

The start of spring on the gryphon continent of Aresia was scarcely less harsh than winter.

That much I was reminded of as the ship we rode in docked in the harbor of Catlais, not long after the vernal equinox. The ride in had been quite rough as we’d had to endure the passage of two storm fronts followed by a coastal tempest, but they would not let us fly the last two hundred leagues as we were capable of. The air remained quite chilly as we disembarked; dirty piles of snow remained on the ground in places, pushed out of the way so supplies could be offloaded after blizzards.

Though the Consul was confined to quarters and I was forbidden to visit him once the journey began, I was allowed to at least give him his requested items before embarking, once the Paladins confirmed there was no contraband. To their credit, the Owls had come through for me on short notice, smuggling most of the commander’s wish list out of pony territory and delivering them to me.

I still wasn’t entirely certain what he wanted with them, but I also knew that once he decided he needed to understand something, he would not rest until he’d learned everything there was to know.

He had plenty of time to do so on the monthlong journey across what the ponies called the Antlertic Ocean. I insisted on accompanying him despite being warned I would be allowed no contact with him and accorded no honor.

With my master having fallen into disfavor, my black feathers and red stripes now counted for nothing; my berthing consisted of a pile of straw deep in the ship’s hold, full of fish and other supplies. But I cared not; I was a longtime soldier who had endured far worse deprivations over the course of my fifteen-year career.

Unable to talk to the Consul, I kept to my personal training regimen as best I could, working the rigging, taking long flights from the decks and occasionally sparring with lower-ranked soldiers. For one of my fighting abilities, the blue-uniformed naval guards were absolutely no challenge, and I finally had to resort to five-on-one duels to work up any sort of sweat.

I can at least say that I had the pleasure of putting down one of the Paladins; after hitting the bottle rather hard one evening she claimed to my face that her order were the true Imperial elite, not the Talaeus. I could hardly let such an insult to my group or prowess stand, and thus challenged her to a duel on the spot.

It was held the following morning after her comrades stopped her from accepting immediately due to her inebriation, but it made no difference. In the end she lasted less than fifteen seconds against me, and it would have been but five if I’d been anything approaching serious. As it was, I took her out in a single blow, leaving her face down with her head smashed through a supply crate and buried in the pile of fish within, her sword broken in two by my own.

I was then offered her quarters and seat in the officer’s mess by the ship’s master, who had no more love for the arrogant and overbearing Paladins than I did, but I declined. I did not reach my skill or post by being coddled, after all. I did, however, accept his offer of a rum flask, on the condition that he find a way to smuggle one to the Consul as well.

I finally saw the Consul for the first time in a month as we docked and he was escorted off the ship. He looked a bit gaunt to my eyes—to little surprise, they hadn’t been feeding him much—but he still stood straight and proud; he caught my eye and smiled with something approaching serenity as he was quickly taken to an air carriage to which Auxiliary Guard sky gryphons were already harnessed.

Gratified to see that his formidable fighting spirit was unbroken, I flew alongside as we traveled the remaining two hundred leagues in a matter of hours, landing at the outskirts of the Imperial Capital of Mosclaw…

At the center of which sat an ornate, towering and very well-defended castle; the seat of Imperial Power and home of the Empress herself known only as The Citadel.

Author's Note

No action here (sorry, Linky and Twinkleshine! :raritycry: ) but a transition chapter and time jump with plenty of scene-setting and some character development. You can see the direction things are moving; the main mystery, of course, is what were the items obtained for Gaius and what was he doing on the way over? You’ll find out next chapter. Let’s just say for now that he was taking some of Celestia’s words to heart. He’s a rare gryphon who can swallow his pride and admit his mistakes, which just makes him all the more dangerous as a foe. Assuming he can convince the Empress to spare him, that is...

Thanks as always to co-writer Leo Archon and my entire prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, SilentWoodFire, Phoenix Wright voice actor TheGoldGrow, and music man James CyberLink.

Part 14 - Know Thy Enemy

“The great kingdoms and empires, mares and stallions of this world have always been defined not so much by their friends… as by their enemies.”

During the times I have taken the quill from Captain Firefly, I have also had the opportunity to read pony literature. I found the above line in a book on military doctrine, purportedly said by Princess Luna prior to her banishment. I confess, when I saw it for the first time, and later when I shared it with my former adversary, it gave us both pause. For on further reflection… ’tis quite true. I would not be the gryphon I became in the days of the war without the Captain or her Bolt Knights, nor would the Captain have become the pony she did without myself or the Red Talons.

’Tis for that reason that she insisted I write the next chapter of this tale in full and by myself. I do so gladly, for the sake of a worthy foe, my greatest rival… and now, my most honored friend.

Signed,

Prelate Layan Kaval (ret.)
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate, Canterlot

The Imperial Capital of Mosclaw was much as I remembered it.

From the massive moat and outlying villages that surrounded The Citadel to the ever-present smell of baking bread, scones and meat from their markets, the great fortress city had stood up to several sieges over the centuries and had never fallen once, not even to the Cloven of the Sun. Whilst the civilian areas were constantly patrolled by auxiliary guard gryphons, both from the ground and air, they gave way to green-armored Paladins the closer you got to the Citadel and seat of imperial power itself. Access to Citadel airspace was greatly restricted, and attempting to enter it without proper permission would either be met with a lethal bolt from the lightning orbs that studded the towers and ramparts or crossbow fire from patrolling Paladins.

We had such permission, but were scarcely treated less suspiciously for it. Every piece of parchment was scrutinized, as were all in possession of them; every signature and seal were checked and every gryphon magically scanned by mages. I was given particular attention and forced to surrender my weapons and armor before entering, but I cared not—a Talaeus was a living weapon, and I could fight quite effectively with but beak, claws and talons if need be.

In truth, I had been to the city and palace twice before, under far more auspicious circumstances. The first time I was welcomed as a hero, brought to meet the Empress herself after I had slain a full-grown dragon raiding our northern mines. I was then dyed black and painted with red stripes before being presented with my onyx armor, formally pronounced a Talaeus and named a protector of the realm, assigned to the then-Legate Gaius’ legion as the climactic campaign against the Elder Rams began. The second time was but two years later when my victorious commander was promoted to Consul and named commander of all forces on the Equestrian continent, entrusted in a secret ceremony with planning the coming war against the ponies.

And now he was being brought back in disgrace to answer for his failures. In my more private moments, I admitted they were real—that he had underestimated the ponies and perchance been a bit too enamored of his own plans. The former, however, was a fault shared by all of us, and the latter I at least partially blamed myself for—I should have spoken up more forcefully against sending assassins after the hatchling; what made him such a good commander in my mind was that he would listen to my counsel. Nonetheless, whatever mistakes he made, my loyalty to him did not waver, and I would risk my own remaining standing to try to save the greatest gryphon military mind and best commander I had ever known.

The Consul himself was very calm as we entered the Citadel itself. His wing shackles leaving him unable to fly, he was escorted up the steps and down the wide, firegem-lit hallway, one filled with statues of famous gryphon warriors, each in front of paintings depicting the conflicts they had fought in. ’Twas an impressive display that reflected our race’s war-filled past, and one of the reasons we thought ourselves better than the ponies we sought to supplant—we had to fight very hard for our survival over the many millennia we could trace our history, battling a multitude of powerful foes… and occasionally ourselves as we struggled to unite our tribes. In the end we had succeeded, building a prospering Empire in the face of harsh lands and hostile races, and all without the help of weather control or over-reliance on magic. We had to fight for everything we now had, and we believed that alone made us the superior race…

Never mind the fact that as predators, we thought it our right to rule plant-eaters like the ponies.

Such thoughts were lost as we finally entered the inner sanctum itself, an opulent great hall filled with crystalline floors and golden statues interspersed with oversized Paladin guards. Green armor gave way to red as we got closer to the other end of the hallway, where the Empress’s Praetorian Guard took over. They were equivalent to Celestia’s personal guard, and just like them, their members were selected for both ability and loyalty from the regular Paladin ranks.

And in their midst… sat a single figure, attended to by multiple viziers and maids, with dozens of other commanders and advisors present for the occasion. She was a resplendent sight, a large earth gryphon eagless who had presided over the Empire for the past thirty years, dressed in a royal red robe and gold tunic. Her hindquarters were tigerlike, orange with black stripes, whilst her chestfeathers were cream-colored… though her natural colors were nearly lost as her normally orange wingfeathers were dyed multiple hues and tipped with diamond dust, glittering in the low firegem light. Her ensemble was completed by the understated crown on her head, whilst the treasured symbol of gryphon heritage and might, the Boreas Idol, sat over her throne, marking her as its owner and thus, the rightful heir to its authority and power.

She was Empress Palamecia, ruler of the Empire… and if my former commander was not careful, she would be his executioner.

The Art of War

As we were brought before her and bowed in greeting, her Grand Vizier, a sky gryphon tiercel named Pascil, spoke first. “My Empress… by your command, I now present former Consul Salvio Gaius and his adjutant, Centurion Layan Kaval,” her chief aide and advisor informed her, slightly needlessly. But protocols had to be followed; all those she held audiences with would be formally introduced.

“We are surprised to see thee here, Talaeus,” she surprised me by addressing me first, speaking in the formal—if slightly archaic—court dialect and resorting to the royal ‘we’ as those in her station often did. “We would have thought thou wouldst have forsaken thy former master in light of his grave misdeeds.”

I stepped forward fractionally and bowed low, knowing better than to come too close to her; even my slight forward movement was met with talons moving towards sword hilts. “That I have not is because I feel the fault in this matter is not his own, My Empress. If you wouldst allow me to, I wish to speak on his behalf.” I held my bow as I spoke.

She studied me for a moment. “In honor of thy past deeds and service, we would allow thee to do so… once we have heard from thy former master himself,” she decided, turning her attention on the manacled gryphon before her, eyes narrowing as she gave a brief look and nod to Grand Vizier Pascil, who nodded and unfurled a scroll.

Pascil, a tiercel of somewhat reedy build that belied his booming voice, stepped forward to address the court as a whole. “Salvio Gaius, you stand accused of cowardice, gross negligence and incompetence, and dishonoring the name of the Empire for surrendering to the ponies without a fight,” he recited in a clear voice that carried to all corners of the room. “These charges carry the death penalty, unless you can convince the Empress to spare thee. Have you anything to say in your defense?”

“Indeed I do.” To my surprise, the Consul closed his eyes and smiled, then spoke in a slow, clear voice as if he was reciting something.

“The Art of War is of vital importance to a kingdom. ’Tis a matter of life or death, a road either to safety, or to ruin.”

Of all the things he might have said, that was perchance the least expected phrase he could have uttered as everyone stared at him, almost dumbstruck. But instead of explaining himself, he simply issued another cryptic quote:

“Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, whilst defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.”

A low muttering came up, aides and soldiers glancing at and occasionally whispering to each other in low tones, wondering what in the name of our ancestors and present Empress he was doing. And I, too, had some sudden doubts about his sanity as he said his next sentence:

“To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.”

“Sacrilege!” a cry went up, and I was shocked at such a statement as well—how could you have excellence without conquering your enemies in combat? And I feared he had sealed his fate as he said another line:

“The commander who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom.”

I and the rest of the gryphons present were now certain the former Consul had lost his mind. Gryphon commanders never advocated retreat; ’twas one of the crimes he was now answering for. “And you think you are this jewel?” the head of the Paladin order, Primarch Livia Cassius asked derisively. “You, who allowed the ponies to insult us and then abandoned his positions against orders without a fight?”

In response, the Consul turned directly to face her, the look on his face reminiscent of a teacher about to instruct a cub. “There are roads which must not be followed, armies which must not be attacked, towns which must not be besieged, positions which must not be contested… and commands of the sovereign which must not be obeyed,” he informed us, drawing himself up straight again and turning back to face the Empress as he knew his final assertion amounted to high treason, stunning all present back into silence. “He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious.”

All eyes then turned on the Empress herself as she narrowed her gaze and her tinted talons drummed at the ground beneath her. “Salvio Gaius, thy life now hangs by a thread. ’Tis only memory of thy past deeds and victories that has spared thee to this point. Nevertheless, our patience is at its end,” she informed him, leaning forward to pin him with her most intimidating stare. “We shall order thy death here and now unless thou explains what thy disrespectful manner and blasphemous statements mean immediately.” Her voice was calm and measured, which just made the threat they delivered all the more dangerous.

“Your pardon, My Empress,” he bowed low before her for a second time, finally sounding like he was speaking for himself, to my great relief. “I simply wished to share with you some small pieces of military wisdom I have learned from the ponies.”

Several scoffing sounds were heard. “The ponies have no military wisdom,” Primarch Livia claimed. “Just an overpowered princess they can hide behind.”

“Aye. ’Tis what I thought as well.” He spared the Primarch but a disdainful glance. “I am in fact quoting one of the greatest pony military minds to ever exist—one of Celestia’s first generals; an earth pony architect of the early Equestrian Army,” he explained. “His real name is lost to time, but he was given the title of Sun Master by Celestia herself and heavily influenced her. On the way here, thanks to materials obtained for me by the Centurion, I read his works and found his words compelling. Methinks there is much we might learn from him.”

“Learn from a pony?” The Primarch snorted in disdain. “You wouldst have us, the great Gryphon Empire, learn about military affairs from those leaf-eating preachers of peace and harmony?”

The consul gave her a dour look. “And thus do we fall victim to an illusion and very deadly conceit—that we alone know what it is to fight wars.”

“We do,” the Primarch grated—she had never liked the Consul, even going back to his days as a mere Legate. “Our many feudal fights. The Unification Wars. The struggle against the Cloven. The campaigns against the Harpies and Elder Rams. Border battles with the Zebras and Saddle Arabians. How could those soft-hearted ponies even begin to compare with our past?”

“As you have listed our conflicts, I shall recite theirs in turn,” Gaius replied, giving her a look. “The campaigns of the Crystal and Roaman Empires, which at their peak conquered half a continent. The invasion of the Overmare and her Maregol Horde. The Spursian and Peloponysian Wars, including the heroic stand at Thermarepylae. The Dragonic Conflicts. The Diamond Dog Battles. And most recently and bloodily… the War of the Celestial Sisters,” he recited evenly. ’Twas an impressive list, easily matching the Primarch’s in size. “The truth, which we were blind to, is that the ponies are very versed in warfare and fully capable of it. The truth is that despite their pretensions of peace and harmony, they have had soldiers and leaders, armies and warriors every bit the equal of our own!”

’Twas a full minute before the uproar that sparked died down, with several of Palamecia’s military aides now demanding my former master’s immediate execution for blasphemous and heretical statements.

But to her credit, the Empress was not given to rash judgments; I knew from prior meetings that she was always cool in emotion and measured in her responses. She had a sharp mind of her own and had not gained her post without learning how to navigate palace intrigue and make her own decisions, and her refusal do anything rashly was the only thing sparing the Consul now as she held up a wing, silencing all her advisors.

“Thou makes very provocative statements, former Consul,” she told him in prize understatement. “Ones that would normally lead us to doubt thy state of mind. But we have known thee long enough to realize thee would not say such things lightly. So we offer thee one chance to explain thyself,” she promised, though her undertone told him to make his explanations good ones.

For the first time, I sensed some relief from the Consul as he realized that his first, and most crucial gambit had worked, and ’twas only later I realized exactly what he was doing—by making seemingly outrageous statements and assertions, he had gained everyone’s attention and an opportunity to elaborate on them, thus giving him more of a chance to save himself.

“I thank My Empress for her wisdom and patience,” he bowed low again, though both he and I knew at that moment he had only won the opening battle of what was likely to be a protracted war, now fought for not just his reputation, but for his very life.

“I would wish My Empress to know first and foremost that I take full responsibility for the failures of my command. They were ones borne of ignorance and arrogance, ones that would have cost us dearly had we invaded under my original strategy,” he began. “I would also wish her to know that in truth, Celestia has done us a great service by aborting our invasion. Had we proceeded as planned, our armies would have been obliterated within days, if not hours by her counterattack, followed by the ponies driving us from their continent with the loss of our entire force.”

More derisive sounds were heard, which the Empress silenced again. “Let us be clear on what thou just stated, Salvio Gaius. Thou yielded… without a fight… to a single pony?” she paraphrased very simply and directly, the import of her statement obvious—a gryphon commander who surrendered without a fight was, under normal circumstances, not worthy of his race.

The Consul chose his next words very carefully. “A pony whose power dwarfs the entire Empire and whose abilities extend far beyond simply controlling the sun,” my former master replied evenly. “There is no honor and glory in needless suicide, My Empress. Had we fought her, we would have been utterly annihilated. In ordering a withdrawal, I recognized that our cause was lost and spared our forces to fight another day.”

Hearing the renewed doubt and derision, I stepped forward and bowed once more. “My Empress, if I may…” I spoke up, waiting to be acknowledged. She indulged me with a nod. “I was present at the parley. I know it seems impossible, but on my honor, the Consul is neither lying nor exaggerating. Celestia’s power is unequaled, even by the Empire’s full might. I have fought in many engagements against a multitude of different foes, and I know how to judge strength. So believe me when I say that the Consul is correct—that had we gone to war, she would not simply have defeated us. She would have destroyed us.”

She considered me for a moment. “Thy reputation precedes thee, Layan Kaval. Great are thy deeds, even amongst thy Talaeus brethren. But we must question whether thy long service to thy former master clouds thy judgement.”

And thus, ’twas now time for me to risk my own head. “’Tis true that I have to come to respect him greatly during my years in his service, My Empress. His mind is brilliant, his strategies superb. But ’tis also true that I know my place and duty. That I would not be here if I did not believe in him, and did not hold him at fault for what happened,” I told her with great conviction. “No warrior wanted to wage war on the ponies more than me. No warrior wished to strike back for the cowardly attack on our base more than me. And for all that, I now stand before you and say that had we done so, the results would have been disastrous. That acquiescence to Celestia’s terms was our only option. That by doing so, the Consul saved both our forces and our very Empire from destruction,” I told her fervently.

“This all seems rather difficult to believe,” the Primarch spoke again. “Celestia has never been seen to fight before, often going to great lengths to avoid conflict. By all reports, the last possible time she was in combat was against her own insane sister, whom she simply banished with some lost magical trinkets,” she rolled her eyes. “Hardly the work of this unstoppable force you describe.”

The Consul looked at me, and nodded. ’Twas time to bring out what ponies called our trump card… and hope we were not slain on the spot for it. “Your pardon, My Empress,” I bowed to her again. “But I regret I have broken the rules of your court. I have in my possession an item your Paladin Guards failed to detect.”

That brought an immediate reaction as several dozen Paladins and Praetorians stepped or flew forward, weapons leveled, and nearly a dozen moved in front of the Empress, forming a living wall between her and me as her mage also cast a shield spell around her. Assassinating her would have been impossible at that point, even for me, but ’twas hardly my intention. Ignoring the crossbows and blades aimed at me from grounded and hovering gryphons alike, I reached into a hidden pocket behind my wing and pulled out… a single rose ruby turned into a storage gem. We had come up with additional uses for them other than mind implants, and this was one—their invisibility to conventional magical scans made it possible to smuggle items into places that would normally be inaccessible, like The Citadel itself.

Showing ’twas but a simple gem to all present, I triggered it and then simply tossed it on the floor, where with a burst of magic it turned into… a single box, containing nearly a dozen green emeralds, all identically cut. “These are memory crystals, My Empress,” my former master explained shortly. “The Centurion obtained them at my request immediately after our meeting with Celestia, and smuggled them in at my direction. They contain recorded memories taken from soldiers present at the parley. I must apologize for the manner in which we present them, but we feared your agents and advisors would not let you see them. So if you think I exaggerate Celestia’s capabilities, you are invited to observe them for yourself.”

“My Empress, he has willfully broken the rules of your court, dishonored his oath and disrespected your throne! That alone merits his execution!” Primarch Livia pointed a talon at us. “Give us the order, and we will end this farce now!” she offered hopefully, only to be silenced with another raised wing.

“Methinks thou hath always had a flair for the theatrical, former Consul. And it may yet be the death of thee,” The Empress said, a warning note in her voice like she was actively considering the Primarch’s words. “But we find the testimony and loyalty of Layan Kaval to be compelling. We will therefore see these memories and judge for ourselves their validity,” she overruled her own protesting advisors.

At that, we both bowed and stepped back. If I’d been allowed to, I would have happily noted that these were normally devilishly difficult to obtain, especially under such short notice, but fortunately there were enough soldiers present at the parley willing to undergo the very intrusive magic it required, if it would prevent what they now knew to be a suicidal war.

After confirming the crystals only held memories and not something more sinister, the Empress’s personal mage levitated a random green emerald right out of the box and into the air, cast a spell and the playback began, projecting the recorded memories it contained right before the Empress and all watching.

It was taken from a nearby Talon eagless, and what we saw through her eyes and ears happened exactly as I remembered it. The initial arrival of the three ponies followed by the appearance of nearly the entire Gamma garrison… and then the Celestial Guard followed by Celestia herself, looking dangerous and deadly in her golden armor. She addressed the Consul in fluent Aeric, laid out the terms of our surrender in all but name, told him he was a fool who had neglected the most basic rule of warfare, and then when he provoked her, she demonstrated her power.

By the time the first recording was done, the room had fallen silent. By the time the third was shown, the mood had grown strangely nervous, eyes casting about anxiously, Paladin guards suddenly wondering if the Princess might even appear here. By the sixth, there could be no further doubt. One memory crystal could be faked. Perchance even two or three. But not the dozen we brought, all showing the same thing seamlessly from different angles and gryphons. By the time the Empress indicated she’d seen enough, the conclusion was unmistakeable:

Celestia was utterly unstoppable by any current craft or magic we possessed.

“Very well.” The Empress closed her eyes. “We concede that backed by their princess, the Equestrians are too powerful to attack. But how would we not see this as even more thy failure, Salvio Gaius?” she asked him pointedly. “Methinks Celestia was right—that thou failed utterly to understand thy enemy and plan properly for them. We assumed thou hadst plans to deal with Celestia. Didst thou have none?”

“I did, My Empress,” he promised her, and ’twas the truth—he had in fact devoted much thought and planning to the question of Celestia, how to both force her surrender and then take her power for our own. At the time, I thought his strategy to be quite solid… until its underlying assumptions proved false. “Unfortunately, none of my plans took her potential combat ability into account. For why would they?” he headed off her next statement quickly. “Her usual response to our provocations was restraint and offers of negotiation; actual retaliation was rare and limited.

“All we ever received from her were signs of weakness, My Empress; there was absolutely nothing to suggest she was willing or even capable of combat. As her last known war was three centuries ago, I thought at most she might command her forces from afar, but ’twas no indication she could actually take the field herself… let alone annihilate us.” He bowed his head. “Nevertheless, methinks you are correct. That we did not know the extent of her power was inexcusable. But ’tis an oversight I have now rectified.”

“Rectified? Hardly. She lectured you on military affairs,” Livia all but sneered. The two had never liked each other; the Primarch thought the Consul too independent and more interested in maneuver and machinations than direct combat whilst the Consul saw the Primarch as a mediocre warrior and leader at best, a commander who owed her station more to her familial ties than any actual ability, resenting her constant interference in his affairs and attempts to turn the Empress against him. “Does it sting, Salvio Gaius? To be told by a pony that you are a poor military commander?” she needled him.

For the first time, my master’s eyes narrowed, pinning the Paladin leader with a stare. Several times the pair had come close to a duel, and I wondered then if there might yet be a reckoning between them. “I say rectified because I deliberately provoked her, to get a sense of her and what she could do, Primarch,” he dripped scorn on her title. “Now we know, and all it cost us was a temporary withdrawal. And yes, it is temporary,” he insisted as he turned back to face the throne.

“As you yourself pointed out, My Empress, Celestia told me during the parley that I had neglected the first and most important rule of warfare—know thy enemy. And as I thought about it, I realized she was correct,” he closed his eyes and smiled. “So I have taken her advice to heart. Thanks to the materials obtained by the Centurion before my journey, I have embarked on a great study of pony history and culture, including their past wars with particular emphasis on the campaigns Celestia herself has commanded. After reading dozens of books and scrolls smuggled out of Equestrian lands—everything from history scrolls to military manuals to even their popular fiction—I believe I now know her mind and that of her ponies quite intimately. And armed with that knowledge, I now know exactly how to defeat them.”

His claim caused another stir. But despite his confident words, the Empress’ eyes narrowed. “Thou speaketh as if thou wilt command again. We would remind thee that decision rests with us, former Consul,” she spoke more sharply. “Thy words are intriguing, but remain just words. Thus far we have heard nothing but empty boasts and questionable quotes. Nothing that would incline us to grant thee a second chance.”

“Nor have I said anything that would merit one,” he agreed. “But my boasts are far from empty, My Empress. During my confinement, I devised a new war plan. One that will lay both Celestia and all of Equestria beneath our wings.”

* * * * *

The room fell silent yet again. “A bold claim, Salvio Gaius,” The Empress seemed to have a talent for understatement, I couldn’t help but think.

“An impossible one,” the Primarch retorted. “Methinks he has no plan, My Empress. He simply seeks to save his own hide.”

“We will be the judge of that, Primarch,” the Empress said sharply, for the first time allowing a note of annoyance to enter her voice. Her change of tone caused the Primarch to bow and move back, realizing she had overstepped. Several more seconds passed before the Empress spoke again; she seemed to be considering the Consul’s words carefully.

“’Twas it anyone but thee, we would give thy words no credence, Salvio Gaius. But we know thy record and reputation. We have seen thee turn failure on its wing before. We have seen thee salvage seemingly lost battles and campaigns, turning certain defeat into resounding victories. We have witnessed for ourselves the success of thy strategies and tactics, unorthodox though they oft are…” she mused aloud, the entire hall now holding its collective breath, myself and the former Consul most of all.

“Therefore… we will hear thy plans in private,” she decided, causing us both to mentally exhale before her eyes narrowed again. “All of them. We feel we granted thee too much freedom of action before and this debacle was the result. No longer. Thou wilt explain thy new strategy in full, Salvio Gaius. Thou wilt hold nothing back from us. Then, and only then, will we decide if it has merit,” she warned him, pinning her with her most dangerous stare. “Then, and only then, will we decide if thee will live or die.”

“My Empress is both fair and wise,” he bowed for the final time, his latest and most critical battle won, setting the stage for the climactic phase of his campaign. “And if I may indulge her further, I would request the use of the Citadel’s war room for my presentation…?”

A New Plan

The Consul’s request was granted, and the Empress even granted him time to prepare fully and have a real meal before the Imperial High Council convened. Even if ’twas a last meal, ’twas still appreciated by my former master, who had eaten little but stale scones and a few rotting fish during his long ride over.

The High Council consisted of the Empress and her closest advisors plus the various service heads. They were assembled within hours, and waiting in the war room as we finally entered. After smuggling in the gems, they had searched me far more thoroughly and shackled me along with the Consul, but I did not mind. My confidence growing, I now dared hope we would both be released before all was said and done.

The war room, which I had been privileged to visit just once before, was where the Empire’s grand strategies were planned and prepared. It consisted of a very large room dominated by a circular stone table, upon which sat a map of our continent and Equestria’s, laid out side by side and carved directly into the stone itself.

’Twas not the whole world, but what was within our reach to that point. On top of the map lay a layer of sand which could be drawn in, showing lines and troop movements, with the Gryphon/Equestrian border already marked along with the bases, both theirs and ours… though the latter was a bit outdated given we had already shut down the forward bases.

“My Empress. Praetors, Primus, and Primarch…” he began, nodding to each in turn. “I present to you now, a new vision of Equestria. One under our wings, with the power to control the heavens where it rightfully belongs…”

* * * * *

The Empress was right, I realized. The Consul did have a flair for the theatrical, and knew how to use it to good effect. He spoke nearly uninterrupted for the next two hours, laying out his plans via speech and drawing lines in the sand.

The more I heard, the more impressed I became. He had indeed thought of everything—how to neutralize the pony weather advantage and remove the threat of superstorm strikes. How to weaken their resolve during the invasion and pacify their population afterwards by turning their own strengths and instincts against them. How to divide and conquer them by tribe. How to destroy their military in detail. Even how to cage Celestia herself.

“And what of the Princess?” Praetor Valan, the earth gryphon head of the Talons had asked at some length. “How will we counter her?”

“We cannot defeat her directly, so we must first pin her in her palace,” the Consul said, now speaking with more authority as he sensed his well-thought plans gaining not just the support of the Empress but the service heads themselves—support he would need not only to survive this day, but to implement his strategy later. “In showing her strength, she also revealed her greatest weakness, and ’tis one we can exploit. She said herself she would do whatever was necessary to protect her ponies; that their protection was paramount to her and she found no honor in death or killing.

“Therefore, we can be certain she will not abandon her ponies to their fate or otherwise fly into a suicidal rage when all is lost. Therefore, we can use her own foolish sentimentality against her by trapping her in a situation where the only way she can protect her ponies… is to surrender unconditionally to us.”

“And we assume thou hast such a plan?” for the first time, the Empress was starting to sound genuinely intrigued as she studied the maps and troop movements he had drawn.

“Indeed I do, My Empress.” He grinned like he’d saved the best for last. “I would first remind all present that Celestia is not the only mighty being on this planet. From my studies of pony history, I now know she has made some enemies. Some very powerful and deadly ones at that; some who have even outlived her. Enemies we should be able to strike an alliance with… if we offer them proper payment and the promise of real revenge.”

I blinked, knowing that there was but one race that could possibly have lifespans the equal of alicorns, and they rarely formed alliances with those they considered lesser beings, believing our affairs beneath them. Surely he couldn’t mean…

As he explained his plan to defeat Celestia in detail, I realized that he very much did. And like the rest of his grand strategy to conquer Equestria, ’twas breathtaking in scope and brilliance to behold. I sensed it would require a great deal of preparation and diplomacy, but if our efforts came to fruition, it could work…

If we could convince such beings to make common cause with us.

“…thus, by neutralizing Celestia and removing the pony weather advantage, we reduce the conquest of Equestria to a simple contest of arms which we can win. One in which our superior warriors, numbers and combat doctrine will tell,” he concluded, then went on to describe more local tactics designed to overcome the individual pony services.

The Aerial Corps border bases and storm cloud caches would be wiped out in the first night of the invasion by a surprise attack, eliminating their weather advantage and best regular forces almost immediately whilst simultaneously giving us control of the air. The Equestrian Army and remaining Corps forces would then be beaten piecemeal using superior gryphon mobility and shock tactics, preventing them from solidifying their lines or forming any coherent defense, allowing Imperial forces to drive deep into Equestria and their towns and bases to be quickly overcome and occupied. Any poorly-trained pony militia or partisan groups that attempted to fight would be crushed without mercy to drive home the futility of their resistance. And finally, the Royal Guard itself would be brought to battle and destroyed in a single decisive stroke, thus shattering pony resolve and taking away their final hope. And then…

“And then we will lay siege to Canterlot itself. Weakened and unable to defend her subjects against the multiple threats she will then be facing, we will present the Princess with a stark choice—surrender herself and her power, or watch her precious ponies die. In the end, by her own words, if there is no other means to save them… she will,” he reiterated, and after an hour of explaining how all this would come to pass, I believed him.

“Impressive…” even the Primarch had to grant, though she couldn’t help but nitpick again. “Though methinks there is something you overlook.”

He gave her a stare like an adult being spoken back to by a cub. “And that is…?”

“You have accounted for all their services… except their navy.” She wore a smug look.

In response, the Consul gave a scoffing sound, and I barely restrained one myself. “Their navy, Primarch, consists of a dozen antiquated airships that are barely flightworthy and lack sufficient crew. Their navy is a relic from the Celestial War that is little more than a glorified ferry service used by Equestrian nobles to say they joined the military without risking themselves in actual combat,” he announced in utter contempt. “But if it pleases you, our own navy will easily clear the skies of whatever they do manage to send up… if, that is, the project is nearing completion…?” he glanced over at Nautilla Primus Rallan, the new Naval head.

“It is,” the sky gryphon eagless confirmed. “The first ships of the new Raptor class will launch within three months… though ’tis certain to be some time more before crews are trained and they are pronounced battleworthy,” she qualified.

“Good. Methinks they should not be needed right away, so you should have sufficient time to fully ready them,” he nodded, staring to sound and act like a commander again. With that, he turned to the Empress again and bowed. “You wished to know my plans, My Empress. You have now heard them in full. And I will accept whatever judgment you may pass on me for it,” he told her. “But before I depart, I would leave you with one final thought from the great pony general known as Sun Master, a piece of military wisdom that is particularly relevant here:

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

“If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.

“If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

He paused to let that sink in. “Before, we knew ourselves, but not our enemy, and thus we could not win. But I now know both. Accept my plans, and as this ancient pony says, you need not fear the results of war,” he told her. “Accept my plans, and by my honor and the Empire itself, I will lay Equestria before you.”

She nodded to him, genuine respect in her gaze. “Thou hast given us much to think about, former Consul. Thou shalt now leave us whilst we discuss thy fate and the merits of thy plans in private.”

“My Empress,” he acknowledged with a second bow, and the two us were removed by the Paladins, taking us to separate holding cells where we would now wait. The Consul had fought a valiant battle, but I had no idea if ‘twas enough. And as the hours stretched on with no word or summons, I could not help but wonder if either of us would survive the night.

Safety or Ruin

’Twas late in the evening when we were retrieved, finding the service heads and Empress still gathered in the war room, having apparently taken dinner there whilst they continued to discuss the Consul’s plans. The Moon was visible through the skylights, with the Mare in the Moon looking down on us; a more paranoid part of me wondered if she could see us and communicate our plans to Celestia.

All the service heads and guards stood at attention as we entered; I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Regardless, we stood at the head of the table and bowed, whilst the Empress looked down upon us from her lofty perch above the other end. “We have considered thy plans carefully, and at great length, Salvio Gaius,” she began. “And we have found them… to have potentially great merit. ’Tis a cunning plan, one every bit as brilliant and well-conceived as we would expect from thee,” she told us, causing our hopes to rise, only to seemingly dash them with her next words.

“However, ’tis not without flaw. Not the least of which is its reliance on other beings whose loyalty would be highly suspect. We do not like the idea of placing our fate in the wings of others, particularly those who would swear us no allegiance afterwards,” she told him.

The Consul started to speak again, but she once more held up a wing to silence him. “Further, the overall risk thy plan entails is very high. High enough that under any other circumstances we would say ’tis not worth taking and the Equestrians not worth fighting. Thou shouldst know better than any of us that no plan is perfect, no matter how well-conceived. Shouldst thou miscalculate, shouldst surprise be lost, shouldst thy timetable falter significantly or shouldst our erstwhile allies renege on their promises… we risk the wrath of Celestia and destruction of our entire Empire,” she noted, tapping her talons again. “But in the end, ’tis not that which sways me.

“’Tis that after witnessing the Princess’ power, ’twould seem the greater risk is in doing nothing. No single being should ever have the power Celestia possesses; no single being should control the heavens alone. Even if we would do all that she says, ’tis nothing to stop her from destroying not just us, but the world entire should she so choose. Her sister went mad, what if she did as well?” she wondered aloud, glancing up at the moon. “Her abilities are dangerous and her power corrupting, and thus even a single alicorn is a potential pox on all races of this world. One we must excise for the good of all. And therefore…” she nodded behind us, and guards stepped forward.

“Our decision is that thy plan represents the best chance to end her potential menace, and return the world to its proper state and natural order,” she said as our manacles were unlocked, causing our hearts to leap as we realized what she was saying. ’Twas not even an argument the Consul had made, but ’twas certainly a very valid one, I thought. “A world without pony princesses and unnatural magics, a world where the sun and moon would be allowed to rise and set not at her whim, or even our own, but of their own accord. A world where we sit properly as rulers, as befits the greatest warrior race and society this world has ever produced.”

We kept our eyes rigidly ahead as we heard more motion behind us, including the rustle of clothing. We sensed what was happening, but not yet the full import. “And thus, we will risk all for the sake of not just our future, but for all races of the world. For if there exists any living being who can make this plan succeed, whose mind is agile enough to overcome the setbacks that would inevitably arise in its course… ’tis thee, Salvio Gaius. We therefore place our fates and faith on the wings of the greatest military mind and warrior we have ever known. Stand and be recognized… Prelate Gaius and Tribune Kaval!”

With that, the entire room bared their throats and saluted us, pounding their right fists into their left shoulders as new uniforms and command chains were placed upon us by Praetorian soldiers and fastened to us, bearing our new rank insignia; I was shocked and even the now-former Consul was visibly stunned by the decision, which had just bestowed on him the highest military rank the Empire had. The rank of Prelate meant he now even outranked the service heads, wielding authority second only to the Empress herself. “I… thank My Empress for her favor and wisdom,” he returned the salutes, and then bowed low. “By the blood of our ancestors, I will not fail!”

“If you do, ’tis unlikely we will have much time to regret it,” the Primarch pointed out. “But far better to die on our wings than to live on our knees, at the capricious whims of a pony princess.” Somewhat reluctantly, she saluted him and bared her throat a second time, beginning the ritual oath of allegiance to her new commander. “The Paladin Order is at your command, Prelate.”

“As are the Talons,” Praetor Valan spoke next, duplicating her gestures.

“And the Knights,” added Praetor Chakar, the old Wind Knight tiercel following suit. “We stand ready to carry out any orders you give us.”

Within a minute, all the service heads had spoken, including myself as the leader of the Talaeus by virtue of my new rank. Once he had received our oaths, the newly-named Prelate took his place at the head of the war room whilst I was granted a seat at the table as well, my armor returned to me, already adorned with my new rank. “By your oaths and favor, I assume command,” he gave the ritual response.

As he spoke, his eyes lingered on me for a moment, waiting until I had met his gaze. He then bared his throat hard at me, in an expression of great gratitude for standing by him. I gave him a nod of respect and bared my throat in return, eagerly awaiting his first orders.

“I thank you all for your loyalty and willingness to follow me. ’Tis a great honor you have bestowed upon me, and one which I will do everything in my power to repay with victory. We have much to do, and time is short. So let us begin preparations now…”

Author's Note

Turned this one out in record time because I already had the outline written and knew pretty much exactly what I wanted to do with this chapter. This will be all for a few weeks, however, as I shift focus back to its parent story, The Lawyer and The Unicorn.

There are two sides in every conflict, and this is the gryphon one. What was initially a war of conquest just morphed into a potential war of survival in their minds, and that makes them all the more dangerous for it. Our new Prelate’s plans will be revealed in due course, and be assured they’re not being sold short here. I know exactly what he’s going to do; all I’ll say for now is that the ponies aren’t the only ones who can think unconventionally. War is coming, but the Empress’ warning was prescient—no plan is perfect, and the more modern saying of no plan survives first contact with the enemy holds as well. Victory and defeat will be determined by how quickly each side can adapt to changing circumstances... but the gryphons will have a huge advantage on that score to start.

Thanks again to cowriter Leo Archon for the Layan Kaval foreword and contributions to several sections, to AJ_Aficionado and SilentWoodFire for prereads, and James CyberLink for music suggestions. Viewpoints will switch back to Firefly and the Equestrians after this, and don’t worry—there’ll be plenty of fighting even before the war to come.

Interlude #2, Part 1: Cat's-Eye Gleam

As has been said before, there are parts to this story that Captain Firefly cannot tell alone. She has therefore entrusted her quill to me for this chapter and the two following, that I might show how I came to be the mare I am, much as Blindside did earlier. This is my tale; the trials and tribulations I endured to get to where I am today. Be warned, ’tis not a happy story for the most part, but one I would not trade for anything. It ultimately made me a better warrior and mare, one who would serve my Captain and country well in many campaigns to come… not all of which would take place on a battlefield.

Though this and the following two chapters are mine, ’tis the story of not just one, but two future Bolt Knights I will tell. The other is a mentor to me and many others, a pony I regret would not live to write his own chapter in this tome. He, like so many others, would fall in Equestria’s defense, and I feel his loss keenly to this day. A hero whose memory I now honor by living as he once told me he wished to…

By making my ultimate legacy one of life, not death.

First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral Emissary
Thestral Conclave, Canterlot

A Race Remembered, A Race Reborn

Methinks I shall start by saying that growing up was a trial in and of itself. The pegasus herd that raised me, bless their hearts, were very kind and helpful to me, even in the face of my own intransigence and various attitude issues. They were also the only source of support I had during my youth. Everypony else who looked at me saw only my eyes, and condemned me for them… and my herd family as well.

When I was born, ’twas a shock to my mother and father, to be certain. Perchance ‘twas destiny that I would eventually join the Equestrian Aerial Corps, as my colors were already that of a Corps soldier, not even needing the fur dye—I had a coat the color of freshly-made snow, and my mane was a pale blue, like a robin’s egg. But ’twas my eyes that would be the talking point of my herd for years to come: a brilliant gold, with cat-like pupils—a hallmark of thestral lineage.

’Tis uncertain to me whether my mother or father’s side was the one with thestral blood, but in truth, it doesn’t matter. All that did matter was that from some unknown ancestor I inherited the slitted cat-eyes of the bat-winged ponies, as well as the problems and boons that came with them. Though my night vision is superb, enabling me to see in darkness as clear as day, I’ve been sensitive to bright light since the day I was born. That sensitivity is less than most thestrals, however; ’twould appear that either as a consequence of my particular heritage or mixed thestral/pegasus blood, I could tolerate daylight far better than most of my bat-pony brethren.

Where I could stand being out in the sun for a few hours at a time, my forebears apparently could not for more than a few minutes before getting blinding headaches and vertigo. ’Tis why they—and I—preferred starry nights instead of sunny skies as my parents quickly found I had a propensity for being more active at night, when they were trying to sleep. ’Tis also why thestral enclaves established since the war use light-dimming magic to shade their towns and villages during the day.

With no cure for my ‘condition’, I was given a pair of shaded spectacles by an eye healer to wear, which helped some, but which I preferred not to use as they simply drew more attention to me—you couldn’t see my eyes from far away, but you could see the shades, and instantly know something was different about me. But worse than this ‘light-blindness’, as it’s been termed by less-than-sensitive medical ‘professionals’, is what my eyes symbolize to those around me. To most in Equestria, these eyes are a symbol of Nightmare Moon and her reign of terror, and as a consequence, my forebears and I are symbols of her fear. ’Twas not without some justification, as many of my ancestors threw their lot in with The Nightmare, who favored them greatly, promising them a place in Equestrian society they had for so long been denied.

And yet, even before Nightmare Moon, my ancestors were shunned, both for our predatory appearance and the fact that we would on occasion hunt, having an appetite for fish and the rare game animal that caused most ponies to recoil. But even aside from diet, the fact remained we were a smaller, night-loving tribe whose lifestyle was anathema to most ponies, and that would mean we suffered endless ostracization over time. ’Twas further rumored, without any evidence at all, that Princess Luna had created the thestrals by bonding the essence of pegasi with the essence of bats, creating a class of nocturnal warriors and servants that would answer to her alone. These rumors were another reason the thestrals are viewed with some suspicion; even now after the critical assistance we rendered in the war some call us ‘fake-ponies’ as if we have no true past or identity of our own.

’Twas a stigma that would only worsen with Nightmare Moon’s rebellion, which seemed to validate such fears. Many thestrals joined her Army of The Night and were killed fighting Celestia’s forces in their failed insurrection, and many more would be driven from their homes and villages and cast out of Equestrian society completely in the aftermath of their sovereign’s defeat. They were forced to take refuge in remote camps and start over there, out of sight and mind for most ponies, who never forgot their betrayal. Three hundred years were not enough time for anypony to forget, and by that time, the thestral population of Equestria was confined to a few isolated enclaves and villages where they could live in peace.

Yet from that isolation brought toughness and resourcefulness as well. Lacking unicorns, they became quite well-versed in use of magical artifacts and crystals, learning to forge tools and make clothes with their bare hooves. Lacking earth ponies, they learned to grow their own food and when necessary, hunt and fish. Over time, they formed their own society and militia, and they even came up with their own fighting styles and combat doctrine (as the gryphons would one day rue), but they still had little contact with greater Equestria aside from a few isolated trading posts.

Many yearned for the day when they could rejoin the greater world and be welcomed as equals, but many more wanted nothing to do with the ‘light-lovers’ and spoke of one day restoring the glory of their lost sovereign’s short-lived Lunar Republic, Nightmare Moon being the only champion and protector they had ever truly known.

’Tis simply a reminder that there are two sides to every conflict. And ’tis doubly ironic that I would have to learn that lesson myself in due time with regards to the gryphons.

Rebellious Youth

To little surprise, I quickly became a ‘problem foal’ growing up. My parents were given repeated warnings about my ‘misconduct’ in flight school, and I was eventually passed over to the Remedial Flyer’s course; this in spite of the fact that my ‘misconduct’ was oft little more than me being punished for what other foals had started, or them outright claiming I had done things that I had not. But once you have the reputation of a troublemaker, ’tis very hard to lose and eventually you internalize it—if you are to be punished as one, you may as well embrace it and be one.

Much like Blindside, I was teased and taunted constantly for my appearance; but unlike her, it made no difference whether I was wearing my shades or not. Foals first taunted me for the spectacles, then for what they discovered they hid. On the other hoof, being large for my age, I could do something about it. Either due to my temperament or thestral heritage, I was hot-blooded and quick to anger, having no qualms about retaliating for the torments visited upon me, sending more than a few fellow foals to the clinics with black eyes and other bruises, even the occasional broken bone.

That only worsened my reputation, and methinks I certainly suffered my own share of injuries for it as my classmates quickly figured out that they could simply steal my glasses and flash bright lights at me to disorient me, making me dizzy and even nauseous, enabling them to take revenge for the beatings I’d given them. But even before that, few foals wanted to play with me, and those that did were rarely allowed to by their mothers. The foals of my own herd were different… at least to start, but the shunning that visited me soon fell on them as well. Though my parents tried to dissuade them from doing so, my own half-brothers and sisters blamed me for their loneliness and lack of friends. Looking back, I couldn’t blame them for doing so, but it only worsened my attitude issues and deepened my growing sense of alienation.

At one point in my youth, having just turned twelve and having had enough of the endless abuse dealt me by my classmates and other ponies, I demanded to be taken to real thestrals, in hope they would accept me where pegasi had not. At wits’ end with me, my parents acceded to my wishes, taking me to a remote trading post where they found a thestral mare, and presented me. Her sneering response was quite blunt and crushed me: “We don’t take in Highborne half-breeds, feather-wings. She is your problem, and yours alone.” I knew not what ‘Highborne’ meant then, but ‘twas still a painful but ironic moment in my life, given that I would one day be appointed as an emissary to all the thestrals in Equestria, and establish the Conclave in Canterlot, where we work to re-integrate them into Equestrian society.

Still, as I returned home with my parents, devastated by what seemed the ultimate rejection, I had no knowledge of what to do next. If I didn’t belong with ponies, and I didn’t belong with thestrals… then where did I belong…?

* * * * *

The answer to that question would come when I reluctantly returned to Cloudsdale with my herd and resumed my attendance at the Remedial Flyers’ course. Blindside has spoken before of Thunderbolt, the stallion in charge of the class. He was there when I was learning to fly, too, and was perchance the one pony outside of my immediate family that treated me nicely. In fact, he reportedly got in some trouble with the staff at Cloudsdale’s flight school, merely because he treated me with respect… though given his purported reputation as a former and highly decorated Aerial Corps officer, he cared little what others thought of him.

’Twas not long after my failed contact with the thestrals that I found myself at my lowest point. I became an outright bully, taking out my frustrations by starting fights and generally making life miserable for those around me, even the family that loved me. Thunderbolt was very patient, but even he had his limits, and ’twas certain I had severely tried them since returning. ’Twas then he called me into his office and sat me down, telling me that my parents had told him what had happened. That I had every right to be angry at the treatment I received, but at the same time I didn’t know how good I had it—“You have a family who loves you, a herd that takes care of you, and wishes to help you. I want to help you. Why will you not let us?” He asked me earnestly as I sat across from him on the other side of his desk.

In no mood to be talked down to, I angrily asked him point-blank: what the buck did he care? He was normal, he was respected… in short, he belonged. “But there’s no place for a pony like me!” I told him, believing nopony could ever understand what I was going through or the pain I felt. “Buck your privilege, buck your Luna-damned help! Nopony’s ever had it as bad as me!”

A Soldier’s Past

For the first time, I got a reaction from my normally even-tempered teacher, whose eyes narrowed and lips curled. “Is that what you think?” he asked in a very low, quiet voice that belied the sudden fire in his eyes, something dangerous and unpleasant, the mere sight of which caused me to fall silent. “Is that truly what you think?” He leaned over his desk and asked me again, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity I’d never felt before, one that sent a shiver down my spine. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, young filly. No idea what other ponies have been through… or are still going through. And you have the gall to sit here and tell me how unlucky you are?” His wings flared in anger and eyes flashed as his hoof came down hard on the table, hard enough to splinter the surface and making me scoot back an inch in my chair. “For a pair of perfectly good eyes?”

Whatever stallion was now sitting in the chair in front of me, he was not the instructor I knew, or thought I knew. I knew he was a former soldier, but cared little about it. As far as I was concerned, he was just another adult who didn’t understand me and couldn’t know my pain. Though uncertain what his slightly alarming change in demeanor meant, ’twould not stop me from working up some more sass. “Oh, please. You wore a uniform, and ponies saluted you. Methinks you gave orders and everypony else did what they were told. What’s so hard about that?” I smirked.

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and something in them caused my blood to go cold as he stood up and stalked around to my side of the desk. But instead of striking me as I thought for a moment he was going to, he grabbed me by the back of my neck and dragged me over to another wall, where a large unicorn-painted picture was hung. I had little trouble winning fights with other foals unless they cheated, but he was far stronger and had no trouble controlling me at all, his rough manner and growl in my ear letting me know he could do far worse to me if he wished. “Methinks you might want to reconsider your last statement, young filly,” he informed me in a tone that told me to keep silent, or else. “Take a good look at this picture, as I have to every day.”

I’d seen it before, during other visits to his office. ’Twas a younger version of him in an Equestrian Aerial Corps uniform, bearing the rank of Second Lieutenant; he was surrounded by several other uniformed ponies of lesser ranks, four mares and one stallion. I would normally have answered with more sass, but his whole manner and the lethal look he was giving me was enough to keep me silent as he pushed me in front of it and kept my head pointed at it.

“You have your whole life ahead of you, young filly. You have a chance. Nopony else in this painting does,” he informed me, then began pointing at each figure in the picture other than himself one by one.

“Dead… dead… dead… crippled… dead…” he recited, then spun me around roughly to face him, forcing me to see the anger and pain in his eyes. “They were my friends. And like me, they were soldiers. All struck down in a single day by gryphon raiders, slain without reason or mercy in the prime of their lives. Mares and stallions who fought to protect others and fell in their defense. I know because I watched them all die!” he informed me by shaking me sharply, all but hissing the words out before squeezing his eyes tightly shut, visibly trying to regain control of his suddenly surging emotions. I prayed he would, my own heart now racing a mile a minute, uncertain what he was going to do.

“I still have nightmares about what happened, how I couldn’t protect them. I still see them cut down in my dreams, and even my waking hours. I can’t escape their ghosts, or those of the gryphons I killed after. So if you think you have it bad, you might want to think about what it is to be the sole survivor of an ambush. You might want to think about the grieving parents I had to write letters to, explaining why their son and daughters would never be coming home. You might want to think about what it does to a pony, to lose all their friends and future herdmates in a single, cowardly attack. Or seeing what you became in the aftermath, a demon of vengeance who kills without hesitation or mercy, waking up one morning to find there is so much blood on your hooves it will never wash away!”

There were tears in his eyes now and I stayed silent and unmoving, afraid of what he might do to me. I’d heard of the gryphons, of course, but thought little of them, a thousand miles from Cloudsdale as they were. Nevertheless, I was frozen in place to see the display of anger and emotion before me, suddenly fearful for my own safety in the face of this revealed warrior’s rage.

He let that sink in before dragging me back over to his desk, where he all but threw me back into my chair as he walked back around the front and sat down heavily in his own. “You want to know why I wish to help you? Because I want their deaths to mean something. Because I want to honor their memory. Because I want my legacy to be one of life, not death. Because I don’t want to be that pony I became any longer, and I run from his shadow every day. And in the meantime, all you have had to deal with… is a couple of cat eyes and a few mean words,” he told me in a tone of genuine disgust as I felt my ears falling flat.

He leaned back over his desk and pinned me with a lethal stare. “Don’t you ever come in here again and tell me that I don’t know what a hard life is. That I don’t know what pain is! I’ve lived it. I’ve felt it every moment of my life since that day. But unlike you, young filly,I don’t let it become an excuse or burden others with it… unless, like now, I need to make a point.”

With that, he took a deep breath and some of the anger ebbed from him. He then stared at me and crossed his arms, his voice calmer. “Go home, Fell Flight. And you think well on what I’ve just told you. Think whether your life is really so bad when you’ve got so many who love you and would help you. Think whether it is really so bad when you still have so much time ahead of you and so much you can yet be. If you can look past your anger and see what’s there in front of you, you are more than welcome to return tomorrow. I will train you, and I will help you as best I can. I give you my word. But if not…” his eyes turned ice cold again, sending a shiver through me as for the first time I recognized the eyes of one who had both seen death and inflicted it.

“If not… don’t bother coming back.”

Touched by the Moon

The flight home was a long one.

In fact, methinks I didn’t come home until late in the evening, unable to shake what had happened. I didn’t sleep well that night either, all my sass and self-image thrown back in my face in a way I couldn’t ignore or deny.

No matter how badly I wanted to believe he was wrong, that I was somehow different or special—or how badly I wanted to cling to the anger that was defining me—I was forced to reach the increasingly uncomfortable conclusion that I was not. I was a pony with burdens, certainly, but ones that paled in comparison to others. I simply could not imagine going through what he had, what it would do to me to lose the friends and family I’d been so badly disparaging of late, acting like a petulant teen who thought the entire world was against her… when the reality of it was that many ponies were still on my side, ready and willing to help me…

If only I would let them.

As tough as I thought myself for all the barbs and blows I’d had to endure, tears began to roll down my cheeks as his words sank in and I realized what a foal I’d been. As I stared up towards the Mare in the Moon shining through my window, my thestral eyes glowing in her light, I swore for a moment I heard the lost Princess of the Night calling to me from where she was imprisoned in the moon. Be not bitter, dear child, I thought I heard her say. Thy life is not meant to be one of pain. Thou canst choose a new path. See thine eyes as a gift, instead of burden. Use them to become the best pony possible, and thou might yet bridge two worlds… she promised me, suddenly materializing over my bed to kiss me on the head, not the Nightmare but the Princess who preceded her. Thy time—and theirs—will come. Be ready… was the last thing I heard before she faded away.

I awoke with a start. Had I been dreaming? ’Twas it real? To this day I do not know, but feeling touched by the moon itself, I made my decision. And to start keeping it, the first thing I did upon rising the next morning was to hug my mother hard.

* * * * *

’Twas not easy to return to remedial flight school the next day, but I gathered my courage and did so, presenting myself to my teacher once more. Trying to make the best possible impression, I cleaned myself up, groomed and bathed, and then apologized to him in front of everypony, to the shock of all—nopony had ever heard me say I was sorry before. He considered me for a moment, then smiled, no trace of his earlier anger or sorrow present. I had no idea how he functioned in the face of such terrible tragedy and loss, but I gained great respect for him for it.

I graduated several months later a full-fledged flyer, and a very good one at that, having learned to use my size and larger wingspan to my advantage, both on the obstacle courses and in spars with other foals. The respect the latter granted me was far more grudging, and I still got into a few fights for it, but I stopped being a bully or attacking other ponies at the drop of a hay straw for every barb or insult sent my way. And my reward for my change in attitude? My cutie mark, in the form of two crossed Pegasus primaries overlaid with a gleaming thestral cat-eye. It represented my acceptance of my mixed heritage, though methinks I still did not fully realize its promise for some time to come.

Whether a consequence of my thestral blood or my own hot temper, I never truly lost my aggression or thirst for fighting, and even discovered I had a taste for meat, buying some from a thestral outpost and finding I liked it… once I’d gotten some instructions on how to prepare it. Perchance ‘twas my mother with the thestral blood as she found she liked it too and even started serving me some every so often. Methinks the taunts and putdowns from other teenaged foals and even a few adult pegasi never fully stopped, but over time I cared less as I continued to grow, maturing into a large mare even bigger than many stallions.

I gained a few friends, pegasi I would drink and brawl with in pubs, but for the most part I prefered to keep to myself, finding work as a courier and delivery pony. The night shift came easy to me, and granted me the solitude I craved… as well as the chance to hunt or eat fish in peace. I continued to live at home until I reached my age of maturity, when it became time for me to make my own way in life. I could have followed in my family’s hoofsteps and worked with them at the weather factory, but I remembered the visitation of that night, and couldn’t help but think I was meant for more.

And in truth, for opening my eyes, methinks there was only one pony whose hoofsteps I wanted to follow in.

* * * * *

I returned to the Remedial Flyers’ school not long before my nineteenth birthday.

I went to visit Thunderbolt, and to ask him whether he thought the Aerial Corps might be a good fit for me. ’Twas a thought that had been growing in my head for some time as I considered what to do with my life, and how best to become that pony I was promised I could be. I’d already visited the Corps recruitment office in Cloudsdale and talked it over with my parents and their herdmates; the former told me that ’twas unlikely the Corps would accept me given my ‘obvious handicap’ whilst the latter were cautiously supportive, encouraging me to follow my heart if ’twas what it wanted. There were no soldiers in my family, so I would be the first.

Perchance what appealed to me the most about the Corps was the promise that ‘all were equal’—that coat colors and cutie marks did not matter, that whatever your past or heritage you wouldst be judged on your merits; that you could earn your place with them and gain respect for it. For a young mare who had never known either from ponies outside of Thunderbolt and her immediate family, ’twas a tempting offer, and also gave me a chance to turn my aggressive impulses to more fruitful ends.

He was surprised, and reluctant to recommend the Corps at first for what he’d been through, but he also recognized my need for purpose, and that the Corps could provide a productive outlet for my hunting and fighting instincts. We ended up having a long talk, but in the end, he gave me his blessing, and wrote me a letter of recommendation for entry into the Corps.

He even delivered it personally, dressing in his old uniform to present both it and me to the shocked stallion sergeant at the recruitment office, proving he’d once been an officer by giving her a dressing down that made her ears burn after she protested over my eyes. “I’m still in the reserves, meaning my rank remains. At my word, you can be reassigned to the badlands, fighting off giant scorpions and Harpie raids whilst dealing with belligerent buffaloes… private!” he added the last word with an almost-evil grin.

My application was approved posthaste.

Induction

’Twas but two months later when I was marched through the front gates of Fort Stratus along with a hundred other ponies, mostly mares with perhaps a dozen stallions. Nary a minute had passed between the closing the gates and the start of the screaming. The slightly rotund beige pegasus in charge of the training class, who went by the name of Rolling Thunder—“that’s Sergeant Major to you, trainees!”—allowed his lower-ranked subordinates to harass us first, then turned his attention on us himself, singling out a few ponies for special attention.

To little surprise, I was one of them as his eyes locked on me and he marched right up to me. “Trainee, what in the name of Celestia are those?” He pointed a hoof at my custom shaded flight goggles, ones that I’d allowed Thunderbolt to have made for me during Remedial Flyers’ school that enabled me to fly and stay out for most of the day. “You will take those off right now!”

I didn’t immediately obey. “Sir, I have special permission to wear these, sir!” I told him, and ’twas the truth. I had passed my induction physical with flying colors except for my eyes.

“Special permission?” he echoed derisively. “From whom and for what?” He ripped the goggles right off my head, then took an involuntary step backwards at what he saw as my pupils immediately narrowed to the smallest of slits, leaving his own eyes wide and jaw agape. “What… the…?”

That got the attention of everypony else, who glanced at me and saw what he did—slitted thestral eyes that were already watering in the bright sunlight as the goggles were removed.

A low muttering came up from the other trainees. “Sir, I am required to wear these due to excessive light sensitivity, sir!” I tried again.

“No kidding…” he granted, then frowned as he noticed my cutie mark as well. “And just who the buck let you into my Corps, bat-pony?” he got in my face and growled.

My urge to pound his face into the dirt was growing, but I had an answer for that as well. “Sir, I was recommended by Lieutenant Thunderbolt, sir!”

Jaws fell a little further open and for a moment, the bombastic Sergeant Major was at a compete loss for words. He glanced at a nearby officer, who nodded but frowned. The Sergeant Major then glared up at me; I was a good three inches taller than him, at least, making me one of the largest if not the largest mare recruit. “Bet you think those eyes of yours make you special, huh?”

I recognized the fact that they did was completely beside the point here. “Sir, no sir!” I replied immediately.

“I bet you think you deserve special treatment, having eyes like Nightmare Moon?” he asked me, circling me ominously. “Do you think that makes you a better pony?” he all but screamed in my ear.

“Different, not better, sir!” I was beginning to shake in anger.

Derisive sounds erupted all around me. “Different, huh? And why the hay should I so much as give you the time of day, let alone train you how to be a soldier?” he sneered at me. “Most of our fighting is done during the day! How can you train or fight when you need help just to see?”

I took a breath, giving him a rehearsed answer, telling myself that ’twas all but a game, and I would just have to play it—that as Thunderbolt had reminded me, being a soldier meant obeying orders, and being willing to take and do things I didn’t like without losing my temper. “Sir, I only require goggles when I’m out for extended periods of daylight, sir!” I told him, focusing on Thunderbolt’s words to calm my nerves and anger. “And I don’t think the enemies of Equestria will care if I have cat eyes or fish eyes! They will kill me because I am a pony! And I will serve and protect Equestria no matter what others may think of me, sir!” I stood up a little straighter.

There was a moment of silence before Rolling Thunder sneered. “You’re bucking right they won’t care! And neither will I! I don’t give a horse’s backside who gave you ‘permission’ or told you that you could be soldier, these things are a liability in a fight! You either get through basic without them, or you don’t get through!” he informed me, making me wince when he dropped my goggles to the ground and crushed them underhoof. “You want to be a soldier? Then you won’t be getting any special treatment from me or anypony else! Is that bucking clear, bat-pony?” he all but snarled in my face.

“Sir, thank you sir!” I replied, only then realizing what I was in for and that Thunderbolt’s patronage only went so far. So be it, I decided. For me and for Thunderbolt himself, I would persevere and prove myself.

* * * * *

I would like to say my time at basic training passed without incident and I graduated at the top of my class. I would like to say I had no problems after that first day, and I was good to my own self-sworn promise. I would like to say that all my fellow trainees came to accept me and I quickly became one of them.

But to say any such things ’twould be a lie. In truth, but two weeks into my training, I collapsed in the middle of the training yard during morning drills, and not one fellow trainee lifted a hoof to help me. A few even stomped their hooves in celebration, believing I would now have to quit, and I couldn’t even pull myself up to answer their insults as the sun bore into my eyes and the very sky spun around me.

’Twas inevitable, I suppose. Whilst I had a much greater tolerance for bright light than a pure-blood thestral, I would nonetheless suffer blinding headaches and severe vertigo if I stayed outdoors in the sun for too long without my shaded goggles. I did my best to endure the pain and growing dizziness during the long days of training, but my body’s physiology would not be denied forever.

I woke up in the healer’s tent an hour later, with Rolling Thunder and the base’s senior healer, Flight Sergeant Panacea, standing over me. As my head made its displeasure with me known, I very nearly lost the contents of my stomach, biting back the bile that rose within me, forcing me to just lie still and keep my eyes tightly shut lest the light hurt me further and the nausea return. It took me a few moments to realize that Panacea and Rolling Thunder were talking about me, even arguing.

“… she cannot stay in sunlight for more than four hours at a time, Sergeant Major,” Panacea explained. “Any more than that, and she starts suffering from the light-blindness that plagues her ancestors.”

“That’s unacceptable, Flight Sergeant!” Rolling Thunder replied, not realizing I was awake. “She’s one of the best recruits I’ve seen in some time. She’s fast, she’s strong, she can take abuse and she learns quickly. I can already tell she’s got the makings of a solid soldier and I can’t wash her out just because she has some problems with the bloody sun!”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Major, but if she continues to push herself past her limits like this, she will very likely end up dead long before she finishes her training,” Panacea bluntly replied. “Methinks the fact that she lasted this long is, quite frankly, amazing. But with due respect to Lieutenant Thunderbolt, ’tis also certain she should never have been accepted into the Corps. No matter how good a trainee she may be, she cannot continue, or she risks injury to both herself and those around her. If her light-blindness and vertigo strikes whilst she’s in the air, she could easily fall to her death.”

That statement put a fear in me unlike any I’d had before, and not for the potential of dying. “No!” I yelped, then groaned in dismay as my head protested the loud noise. They turned to look at me, startled to see me up. “I want… to… stay…” I told them, struggling to rise, only to double over and lose my morning meal when I opened my eyes and more bright light washed into them. “Just… give me… goggles… please.” I begged them.

“Young lady,” Panacea said shortly, gently but insistently pushing me back down with his aura, “I am impressed by your determination and resilience, but this condition of yours should have disqualified you when you applied to the Corps. As it stands, your inability to tolerate long periods of daylight makes you a danger to both yourself and those around you. You cannot fight if you cannot see, and wearing dark glasses or goggles are not allowable simply because they may be lost or broken, which could be lethal to both you and your fellow pegasi in the middle of combat. Methinks whoever told you they were permitted, lied.”

“But… I…” My mind went back to the recruiting sergeant and healer who told me they were okay at my pre-induction physical, and I resolved I’d have some choice words with her next time I saw her.

To my great surprise, Rolling Thunder was looking at me in a manner approaching concern. “You scared ten years off my life when you collapsed out there, recruit. Why did you not tell me you were suffering?”

I sat up slowly, so as to not aggravate my headache any further. “You told me, when I first came here, that you wouldst not offer me any special treatment for my eyes. I took you at your word, sir, and decided you were right to do so. I wish to remain part of the Corps on my own merits, not because you took pity on me for my condition!”

Flight Sergeant Panacea snorted, unimpressed. “Well in your condition, ’tis doubtful you will remain part of the Corps, period.”

“No! Please, there must be something that can be done!” I cried, ignoring my throbbing temples, tears starting to roll down my cheeks in front of the two startled stallions. “I turned to the Corps to become part of something that would finally accept me for who I am, and not judge me based on my eyes! Please, Sergeant Major! Is there anything you can do? Anything at all?” ’Twas hardly military to plead and beg like this, but for all the hardship and pain I’d already endured, I had come to realize just how badly I needed this. I knew in my heart the Corps was for me, and if I lost it, I didn’t know what I would do.

Both older pegasus stallions looked at each other, before the Flight Sergeant turned to one of the bookshelves that lined the tent. “There may, in fact, be something that can help you,” he said, pulling out a scroll from the shelf. “’Tis not something I can do on my own, however; we will need a unicorn eye specialist from Canterlot to do this.”

“To do what?” Rolling Thunder and I chorused.

Unrolling the scroll with his magic, Panacea continued. “There are tales of a great empire that existed in the far north long ago, ruled by an evil King. The tales claim that the empire’s buildings were made of crystal, and everything shone brilliantly, especially in the sunlight. Reportedly, the ponies who lived there had no problems aside from enslavement, but visitors were nearly blinded every time the sun gleamed off of anything. Now, the empire couldn’t very well let this keep happening, so they tasked their magi to find a solution,” he recited from the manuscript.

“And did they find one?” I asked, barely daring to hope.

My heart leapt when the Flight Sergeant nodded cautiously. “Eventually, yes. At first, they came up with a spell that lasted a day or so, but later on they found a more permanent solution. They devised a crystalline lens that would be inserted into the eye via magic, carefully laid under the main lens.

“This magically-treated secondary lens acted to diffuse intense but not weaker light. It cut down bright light entering ponies’ eyes to a more manageable level, making walking outdoors in the empire much easier on visiting ponies. And the effect lasted as long as the lens remained implanted, automatically recharging its spell from the pony’s innate magic,” Panacea explained but then frowned slightly as he showed us a diagram on the scroll—at least, I think that’s what it was given I was having much trouble focusing. “But these are just stories, so I am uncertain if it would work. Or if command would even approve such an unorthodox procedure.”

“I will chance it!” I proclaimed without hesitation. “I do not wish to leave the Corps, so I will take any means I can to remain!”

Rolling Thunder looked at me, then nodded in agreement. “If she wants to try it, I’ve no objections,” the Sergeant Major said. “If ’twould keep her in the Corps, I say we chance it too. She’s too promising a trainee to lose.”

“Very well,” Panacea said, somewhat doubtfully. “I will send the proper requests to Canterlot and Corps command. Be advised, even if they approve, ’twill take some time for the specialist to arrive. Until they do, you are to rest and are restricted to light indoor duty,” he told me. “The effects of your vertigo are cumulative and will take some time to recede. That means no leaving the barracks during the day for more than two hours, no training… and no sneaking off to train at night,” he added, seeing a glint of mischief in my eye. “I will be keeping close watch on you, trainee. If you try to circumvent these restrictions, I will order your immediate discharge. Is that clear?”

“Quite clear,” I nodded, managing a shaky salute before my head fell back into its pillow. The room spun around me again, and I closed my eyes until it stopped… at which point I had fallen asleep.

A Dream Denied

One of the things I learned early in life was that happy endings and harmony were rarely realized outside of storybooks and foals’ fairy tales.

Such, did it seem, would it be for me. I had been given hope by Flight Sergeant Panacea that I might yet be able to stay in the Corps, only to have it quickly dashed, finding myself walking out the gates of Fort Stratus barely three weeks after I had started, my head hung low. I had been discharged by direct order of the base commander, Colonel Freefall, my career seemingly over before it had even begun.

Despite the Sergeant Major’s personal plea and Thunderbolt’s letter, my signed request for an eyesight exemption was denied by Corps command. No explanation was given for that, or for summarily denying me the chance to have specialists from Canterlot examine me to see if Panacea’s idea for crystal implants was feasible.

When the Sergeant Major followed up with a personal plea, he was given a very terse reply—that the Corps ‘saw no need’ to spend money and resources on a single soldier ‘whose skill and loyalty would be highly suspect’ even if ‘such a questionable procedure’ succeeded. And thus, I was dismissed from service.

So much for the Corps motto of ‘all are equal’. To his credit, the Sergeant Major walked me out, offering me a hoofshake and a reference if I needed it. “You have other options if you still want to serve, Fell Flight. The Navy should be grateful to have you. And if not, the Cloudsdale militia should,” he suggested to me, somewhat wanly. I thanked him and left, not interested in either. The Navy didn’t fight, and I’d had quite enough of Cloudsdale ponies from all the time I’d lived there. For me, ’twas the Corps or nothing.

* * * * *

Two days later, I was back in Cloudsdale, still sporting my shorn mane. I washed out the white fur and light blue tail dye, only to note that my colors scarcely changed for it—if appearance was any guide, I was destined to be in the Corps, but now ’twas just self-mockery. After greeting my parents with a hug, I went to my old room, shut the door and cried, burying my head in a cloud pillow. I had finally found a place I wanted to be, a place I sensed I needed to be, and it had been taken from me by bigoted ponies and my own slitted pupils, my heritage having betrayed me for what seemed the final time. And now what would I do…?

What could I do…?

The answer came in the form of a knock on the door the next day. As I had not emerged from my room since my return, my younger siblings answered it. I didn’t know who it was until a minute later there was a second knock, this time on my bedroom door, and a familiar voice called out to me.

To my surprise, Thunderbolt had come to see me! “Your parents told me what happened,” he said, his expression dark as he sat beside me. “Did they really deny you an eye procedure?”

“Y-yes,” I told him jerkily, my eyes wet and bloodshot. I hated him seeing me like this—if he could be so strong in the face of far worse, then why was I going to pieces over such a little thing?—“Even after the Flight Sergeant said it could work. Even after the Sergeant Major said he wanted to keep me.” With that, I showed him the denial of medical necessity notice followed by the discharge order.

His expression darkened further as he scanned them. He then listened as I told him the full story of what happened, his eyes growing wrathful, his lips tightening, leaving me to wonder if he was about to lose his temper again as he had once done in terrifying fashion with me years earlier. But instead, he stared out my window for a moment, then looked back at me, his anger contained, his eyes hard, but determined. “Come with me!” he all but ordered me, some snap in his voice reminiscent of his old days as an officer, one that I instantly obeyed after spending several weeks having obedience to superiors drilled into me

“S-sir?” I blinked, lapsing back into military address.

“You heard me. Pull yourself together and clean yourself up, trainee! Methinks we’re going to pay Corps Command in Canterlot a visit…”

Author's Note

This was the time to do another interlude chapter, and a second one will follow hopefully before I leave for my usual summer trip to Las ~~Pegasus~~ Vegas in a couple weeks to play me some poker.

The usual thanks goes to co-conspirator Leo Archon, who initiated this chapter and wrote perhaps a third of it, to prereaders SilentwoodFire and Denim_Blue, Lily and Linky lover AJ_Aficionado, and The Voice himself, TheGoldCrow, for giving it a once-over. You're invited to check out his latest project, a voice-acted playthrough of Pokemon Super Mystery Dungeon.

Interlude #2, Part 2: Thunderstruck

To the readers, I regret I have been remiss. ’Twas pointed out to me that I said very little about my family in the last chapter, describing neither my parents or siblings, speaking not their names or saying anything about them but that they were workers at the Cloudsdale weather factory.

’Tis a reason for that, and like so much of my story, ’tis not a happy one. For now, be assured that I love and cherish them, and appreciated their willingness to stand by and support me even when I was at my lowest and most belligerent points. I would not have gotten to where I did without them, knowing that they were there for me, no matter how much I tried to tell myself growing up that they were part of the problem and I didn’t need them. In the end, they sacrificed much for me, and set an example I now try to follow with my own herd and foals.

But that part of my story cannot be told yet. What can be told over the next two chapters is the tale of my attempts to join the Corps, my first deployment, my deepening friendship with Thunderbolt… and my first time in combat.

First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral Emissary
Thestral Conclave, Canterlot

’Twas but half a day after Thunderbolt’s arrival that my parents, aunts, and I were boarding an air chariot chartered by the former Lieutenant. My entire family had insisted on coming, even taking unpaid leave from the weather factory to be there, determined to stand by me in my hour of need. ’Twas certain that only made me feel even worse; that I had just been one endless disappointment after another to them, and that my eyes were hurting them as well.

The trip to Canterlot covered five hundred miles and took nearly four hours, well out of the flying range of most pegasi. ‘Twasn’t long before evening that we arrived in the great capital city.

Dressed in his Corps uniform again, Thunderbolt led us through the crowded streets, stopping here and there to greet the occasional noble that crossed our path. To my relief, such encounters were rare, and all of them only acknowledged Thunderbolt’s presence, not even sparing a glance for my family and I. Whether ’twas due to military protocol or simple Canterlotian snobbery I knew not, but it did not seem to bode well.

Thunderbolt led us to a complex whose buildings were emblazoned with the Corps insignia, decorated in the blue and white hues of the ponies that served in it. He was met at the door by an older mare who wore the four stripes of a Flight Sergeant, who saluted him. “Lieutenant Thunderbolt! ’Tis a surprise to see you, sir! Are you here to re-instate your commission?” she asked him, almost hopefully.

“No, Flight Sergeant,” he replied, returning her salute with a slightly wan smile. “I’m here to get some answers on behalf of a trainee.” He nodded back at me.

The Flight Sergeant, to her credit, didn’t blink on seeing my shaded eyes. She did, however, look uncomfortable. “Ah… is that the young lady with the… odd eyes?”

Thunderbolt frowned. “And how wouldst you know about that?”

The doorkeeper bit her lip. “Well… I overheard General Squall Line talking to some of the other brass about her. He seemed… amused that anypony with thestral blood would try to become part of the military.”

Thunderbolt’s lips pursed and his eyes went narrow for a moment. “I see. ’Twould seem we need to go straight to the top, then,” he announced shortly as he led my parents and I inside, saluting various Corps ponies that he passed on his way to our eventual destination. He was saluted by others in turn, and I heard some of the sentries breaking protocol to whisper about his presence. He was apparently well-known to the Corps brass, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. Did it have something to do with that story he told me…?

We eventually reached a set of wooden double doors, the lower-ranked sentry mares outside the door snapping to attention and saluting Thunderbolt, who replied with a perfunctory one. “With apologies, Lieutenant, the General left orders not to be disturbed,” she informed him with a slightly nervous air.

“Well, then he’s going to be disappointed, isn’t he?” Thunderbolt replied, his tone making clear he wanted the door opened immediately.

With a glance at her comrade, the higher ranked sentry opened the doors slightly. “Sir, you have some visitors,” she said hesitantly to the pony inside.

“Visitors?” replied a gruff, stern stallion’s voice. “I said I was busy. Who is calling on me against orders?”

The Right to Serve

Thunderbolt didn’t wait for an introduction, pushing the door open himself and marching inside. “’Tis been a long time, General Squall Line,” Thunderbolt said as he saluted, the barest hint of an edge to his voice. “Congratulations on being named head of the Aerial Corps,” he added with a smile that did not reach his eyes. His voice was neutral, but I could have sworn I caught a note of disgust buried deep within it.

Sitting at the rather ornate desk in the large office room was a dark grey pegasus with a brilliant gold mane, dressed in a Corps general’s uniform, dark blue with white trim and his rank stars prominent. He looked surprised to see Thunderbolt, although that surprise quickly turned into a wary, equally forced smile. “Lieutenant Thunderbolt! ’Tis quite unexpected that you wouldst come here. I thought you said you were done with the Corps?”

“I did, and I am,” Thunderbolt replied, waving my family and I inside. “I’m here today on this young mare’s behalf,” he continued, prompting me to remove my shaded spectacles. “She would be a fine addition to the Corps, but there seems to be some… reluctance to accept her. Or give her a procedure that would allow her the day vision necessary.”

The General, to his credit, did not change his facial expression one bit, although I saw a shadow pass over his eyes. “Ah… this would be Miss Fell Flight, then?”

“I am,” I spoke up, standing at attention as I’d been taught to do in basic. “And I wish to serve, sir!”

“Do you, now?” he asked me, his eyes flitting from me to my assembled family behind me, their presence perchance preventing him from saying things less tactfully or throwing me and the Lieutenant out on the spot.

“Sir, yes sir!” I said again.

“General, please. Our daughter needs this,” my mother, Evening Breeze, stepped forward beside me. “She is a good mare, and we’ve raised her as best we can, but her eyes have made life difficult for her and there are simply some things we cannot provide for her. We believe that the Corps can give her the outlets and sense of purpose she needs.”

“Outlets?” the General echoed as if he could read between the lines. “In other words, she was a problem foal who got into plenty of fights and had trouble getting along with other ponies?” he paraphrased with the air of a stallion who had such a foal of his own.

“I think ‘twould be more appropriate to say that other ponies did not get along with her, sir,” my sire spoke next. “I am Dry Line, a weather specialist at the Cloudsdale weather factory. My mares and I have always worked there; none of our foals have ever wanted to join the military before. As Evening Breeze said, we’ve provided for her as best we can, but ’tis now clear to us she will never be happy in Cloudsdale or in our line of work. We feel that the Corps can do for her what civilian life can’t—give her a place she can be accepted and a chance to make a difference whilst being free from prejudice. At least, ’twas the impression given her by the Corps’ motto: ‘all are equal’,” he pointed out mildly.

The general chose his next words carefully. “Indeed, all are equal in the Corps. And yes, your daughter is exceptionally talented, to judge by the fact that Sergeant Major Rolling Thunder made an appeal on her behalf,” Squall Line replied, moving some scrolls around on his desk to reveal a separate set that were bound together by cord. “’Tis true that she must have made quite an impression on him if a longtime trainer with high standards was willing to vouch for her.

“However, with the idea that ‘all are equal’ in mind, I cannot give special treatment to anypony, Miss Flight. Your eyes are simply a liability the Corps cannot afford. I am sorry to be so blunt, but your abnormal vision renders you physically unfit to serve.”

“In one singular aspect, General,” Thunderbolt pointed out. “From what I hear, ’tis only her eyes that gives her trouble, and even then, only when out for extended periods during the day. In all other areas of health, she is perfectly fit and even excels.”

“I do not dispute that,” conceded the general, looking increasingly annoyed. “However, that doesn’t change the fact that Miss Flight cannot safely remain in the daylight for more than a few hours at a time without protection. And attacks from Equestria’s enemies do not adhere to a schedule!”

“But Flight Sergeant Panacea had a remedy for that!” I protested. “An operation that could— “

“Ah, yes, this ‘crystal lens implant’,” Squall Line interrupted, flipping through the scrolls. “Quite frankly, it sounds like a pipe dream to me. The tales of this so-called Crystal Empire are fantastical and oft unsubstantiated. I fail to see why I should spend the Corps’ resources on an experimental procedure based on what may well be a fairy tale. I am on a budget, and ’tis unlikely the Equestrian Council for Military Affairs would look kindly upon such an extravagant expenditure for a single soldier.”

“Sir, if the question is one of simple bits… then we would be willing to pay for it,” my father motioned to my mother and the other mares of his herd, who all nodded in agreement, causing me to break bearing and look back in shock. ’Twas the first I’d heard that offer, and it greatly touched me. They smiled at me in response, and I vowed to give each of them a huge hug when we were alone. “If ‘twould allow our daughter to serve as she wishes to, then we offer up our own savings to that end.”

Squall Line looked startled; he apparently hadn’t considered that others would be willing to pay for the expenses of the procedure. Still, he was not going to give in that easily. “With respect, Mister Dry Line and Mrs. Evening Breeze, ’tis not just a question of expense. The fact remains that this so-called solution is theoretical at best, based on unsubstantiated stories and hearsay. I am no healer or unicorn, but ’tis likely they would say that attempting such a thing could just as easily blind her as cure her. Are you really willing to risk your vision, Miss Flight?” He addressed me directly.

“If it means a chance at serving… yes sir!” I proclaimed without hesitation, my parents and herdmate aunts stepping forward to stand at my side.

“Sir, if the Corps is unwilling, we will pursue this procedure for her ourselves. If so, wouldst you allow her to enlist if she can then pass the eye exams?” my sire prompted.

Squall Line clearly didn’t like the bind he was being placed under, and I again had the impression that were it not for the presence of my parents and herd, he would have had us ejected long earlier. “Well, that would be… helpful…” he qualified somewhat grudgingly. “But…”

“But, what?” I couldn’t stop myself from speaking up despite Thunderbolt’s warning glance. “But, you don’t trust me? Is that it?” I challenged, allowing a note of bitterness in my voice as I saw the general’s jaw set, betraying his feelings. “I’ve seen exactly one thestral in my life, sir, and part of the reason I’m here is she rejected me as a ‘half-breed’. I want to be here! Please sir, I want to belong somewhere!” I stepped forward to plead, tears in my eyes.

“Trainee…” he began, but I cut him off again.

“The Corps motto is supposed to be ‘all are equal’, sir! If I can pass the same tests, then why doesn’t that apply to me?”

“Why indeed?” Thunderbolt asked rhetorically, gently but insistently pulling me back. “Mister Line, Mrs. Breeze, honored guests. I respectfully request you please leave the room. Though I’m sure you all have much more to say at this point, I believe ’twould be more fruitful for me to speak with the General alone,” he announced with a polite bow and thin smile. Reluctantly, my herd agreed, though they all looked angry at the turn of events.

“Not you, Fell Flight. Please stay,” the Lieutenant called to me as I turned to leave. Though surprised, I did so as he added, “We may have need for a witness shortly.”

Bad Blood

As soon as the door was closed, Squall Line’s demeanor changed instantly, dropping the veneer of politeness he was holding for the sake of my family. “You don’t give orders here, Lieutenant!” was the first thing he said, glaring at Thunderbolt whilst ignoring me. “And I do not appreciate you trying to guilt me into letting her join!”

Thunderbolt smirked. “I’m sorry. I forgot. You’re incapable of feeling guilt,” he stated almost sweetly, dropping his own veneer of politeness as well.

“Don’t start,” the general growled, sounding like a nerve had been touched.

Thunderbolt’s lip curled. “With all due respect, sir, I haven’t even begun to start. And I won’t if I get the answer I want. There is no good reason to keep her from the Corps. Her eye issues can be overcome. If she undergoes the procedure and passes the vision tests, she should be allowed in. She’s passed every other test and even gained the recognition of Rolling Thunder himself. His opinion alone should sway you!”

“She is a bat-pony!” he pointed out if it was self-evident. “Untrustworthy and predatory! Servants of the Nightmare herself who might turn on us at any time!”

“What?” I fell open-mouthed.

“You heard me! And I’m not about to let a potential sleeper agent or security risk join the Corps!” he looked at me in now-open contempt. “My decision is final and you’ve taken enough of my time! Now get out of my office, Lieutenant! And take this Luna-damned bat-pony with you!” he made a dismissive motion, pulling a bell which summoned his sentries. “Get out, or be thrown out!”

“No, sir.” He stood his ground, giving me a glance which told me to do the same, ignoring the sentries which had just entered, staring at him warily as they perchance knew his reputation. “I obeyed your orders once, and lost everything for it. I am not going to let you make another error in judgement that would ruin yet another promising young life.”

Squall Line recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “How dare you…”

“I dare. Sir,” Thunderbolt replied in clipped tones; his eyes now had a look at them I’d only seen on them when he’d set me straight in his office nearly eight years earlier. “I knew you were making a mistake then, and I know you’re making one now. The difference is that this time, I’m stopping you before anypony else suffers for it.”

With that, Squall Line got up from behind his desk and stalked around to the other side, going nose to nose with his former subordinate. “Leave us,” he ordered the sentries, who instantly departed, waiting until the door had closed before them before speaking again. “They were my friends too, Lieutenant. You think I don’t remember them? You think I don’t mourn them? You think I don’t regret what happened every day of my life?” he brought his hoof down hard.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but Thunderbolt didn’t back down, gaining a bitter smirk. “Methinks you weren’t there and didn’t have to see the results of your own idiotic orders, sir. Methinks you didn’t have to watch them all die, knowing how needless it all was and that you couldn’t save them!” he fired back, each sentence impacting on the general like a lightning bolt to judge by his flinches. “And methinks the only reason you kept your career and have your position now is because certain facts were kept from public view… sir.” He all but hissed out the last word.

“Enough!” The general flared his dark grey wings in his display that made clear he was not only angry, but larger than Thunderbolt, showing off his storm cloud cutie mark. “And methinks I’ve indulged you for far too long, Lieutenant! I did everything I could to atone for what happened, and I’ve fought the gryphons plenty of times myself! So don’t you dare imply I’m a coward or desk officer who hasn’t seen death or combat! My medals and post were earned! And unlike you, I faced my grief and stayed in the Corps afterwards!” he announced with bared teeth, his last sentence causing Thunderbolt’s lip to twitch. “If you have a problem with me, perchance ’tis time we settle it as we should have all those years ago! So, wouldst you care to step outside, Lieutenant?” he issued the fateful words of challenge. “Care to go blade to blade? Or have you been out of the Corps so long you’ve forgotten how to fight?” he goaded.

Thunderbolt smirked. “Very well, sir. By all means, let us battle. But as I am the aggrieved party, I get to choose the terms of the duel.” He then took on a predatory grin I could only call evil, lowering his head and bearing his teeth in turn. “I choose storm clouds at fifty paces. Care to test your luck and aim… sir?”

I had no idea the significance of such a choice, but the general went deathly pale. “Well, that is, I…” he all but stammered, glancing at Thunderbolt’s jagged lightning cutie mark.

“Methinks that won’t be necessary, Thunderbolt,” came a new male voice from the doorway, which had opened again without any of us hearing. “I heard you were here, Lieutenant, so I thought I would say hello. And meet the trainee that’s apparently been causing so much consternation of late.” Its owner turned his eyes on me, sizing me up.

That broke the spell as the pair stared at the newcomer, a very powerful-looking slate-blue pegasus stallion with a wingblade cutie mark who was dressed in a Corps headquarters uniform. “Sky Sergeant Windshear,” Thunderbolt nodded with a glance at his shoulder stripes. “Congratulations on your latest promotion. ’Tis true, then, that you’re no longer training the hatchlings at Fort Stratus?”

He nodded shortly. “Aye. At my own request, they’re naming me commander of Outpost Alpha after a brief stint at headquarters,” he explained. “I felt my frontline skills were weakening from disuse and I needed to be out in the field again. So I requested reassignment and turned over my responsibilities at Stratus to Rolling Thunder, who wasn’t happy behind a desk and wanted to get back in the training game. And he told me about Miss Fell Flight, here. ’Twould appear I departed one class too early, or I might have had the pleasure of training her myself.”

Thunderbolt grinned, greeting the Sky Sergeant like an old friend. “Well, I’m glad you’re here then. Because this is her and I would very much like her to be accepted in the Corps. Except the General is strangely reluctant to take her. I was about to try to convince him.”

“I see,” the new stallion said, his tone and expression neutral as he recognized the pair were still on the verge of a duel. “Sir, with your permission…?” he motioned with his head towards me.

“By all means…” the still-slightly ashen cheeked general invited, perchance eager to dodge the duel he himself had initiated.

With that, the Sky Sergeant went up to me and began to circle me, inspecting me closely. There was an intensity and purpose in his gaze and presence that Rolling Thunder had lacked, and something about him made me shiver internally. Whoever he was, I instinctively sensed he was every bit the warrior that Thunderbolt was… and he was now somehow judging whether I was worthy of being one myself.

A sense that only grew as he stepped in front of me, his pegasus eyes boring into my thestral ones. ’Twas all I could do not to flinch away as he finally spoke, his voice hard and expression flinty like he was back in drill sergeant mode again. “So tell me, trainee… why do you want to join my Corps?” he asked imperiously.

I knew I was being tested, and gave the ritual answer. “Sir, to serve and protect Equestria, sir!”

He sneered and moved closer, his nose now an inch from mine. “Don’t feed me that load of horse manure, trainee! I asked you a question, and I’ll ask it again: Why does a bat-pony want to join the Equestrian Aerial Corps?” he challenged me.

With that, I realized that giving stock answers wasn’t going to work here. He wanted honest ones, and if I didn’t give them, I could kiss any chance of joining the Corps goodbye. Neither Thunderbolt nor anypony else could help me here; my future now hinged on the answer I gave.

In the end, I gave the only reply I could; the only answer that flew at all for me. “Sir, because I want to be accepted and belong somewhere, sir!” I told him. “I want to join because the Corps is supposed to judge ponies on their merits, not their past or appearance, sir!”

A slight crook of the lip told me I’d given a good answer, but then he sneered again. “Really. And what ‘merits’ do you offer, trainee?” he quickly followed up. “What merit is there in a soldier who can’t fight during the day?”

I gave the answer I’d been saving for just this moment. “Sir, I can fight at night, sir! And far more effectively than most pegasi!” I instantly shouted back. “I can see at night as clear as day, sir! And I’ve heard the gryphons prefer night raids anyway, sir!”

That seemed to catch him and General Squall Line short. “’Tis true…” Windshear acknowledged. “A valid point. Then tell me this, trainee. Are you willing to fight?”

What kind of question was that? If I wanted to join the Corps, ’twas certain I was more than willing to, right? But I kept the thought to myself as I answered. “Sir, yes sir!”

“And what about kill?” he followed up. “If ordered to, can you take a life?”

Again, ’twas a stupid question, I thought, and something I’d already done when I hunted. “Sir, the ability to hunt and kill is in my blood, sir!”

But far from being reassured, the Sky Sergeant frowned, whilst Thunderbolt grimaced and Squall Line made a disgusted face. “Trainee, I am not asking if you can hunt and fish like other thestrals! I am asking if you wouldst be willing to kill another sapient being! Someone who can walk, talk, reason, and may have friends and family! I am asking whether you can take the life of an enemy soldier or raider!” he clarified with strained patience. “In short, I am asking whether you can kill on behalf of Equestria! So out with it! Is the answer yes, or no?”

For the first time, that caught me short, and I finally understood what he was getting at. ’Twas something I hadn’t really thought about, that killing in combat would be far different from hunting the occasional rabbit at the edge of the Everfree. “Sir, I…” I stammered, having no immediate answer.

“You’re hesitating, trainee,” he pointed out, instantly noting my confused appearance. “Methinks you’re not sure.”

“But…” I was now at a complete loss as I sensed my tenuous hopes slipping away again, and my agony was only worsened as he asked his next question.

“And suppose there was a rebellion and you were ordered to fight and kill other ponies. Suppose they were thestrals. Wouldst you?” He watched my reaction carefully.

My mind raced, but came up empty, and all I was left with was the undeniable truth. “Sir. No sir,” I slumped, defeated. “Though they rejected me, I am still one of them. I could no more kill them than other ponies.”

“And there you have it,” Squall Line smirked, triumphant. “She’s a bat-pony at heart, and that alone means she shouldn’t join!”

“Quite the contrary, sir,” Windshear stepped back from me, dropping instantly out of his drill sergeant persona; it startled me how he could seemingly turn it on and off like a firegem. “Had she immediately answered yes, I would have said she should not join. For lovers of death and killing have no place in the military,” he pointed out with a strange look at Thunderbolt, who for the first time looked away. “Nor should we accept soldiers who would so casually agree to target fellow Equestrians, regardless of their tribe. A warrior should always be reluctant. A warrior should always question themselves and their actions. And that she is and does means that she’s pony enough for me.”

With that, he turned to a speechless General Squall Line. “So you want my opinion, sir? Accept her. Methinks I’ve trained enough ponies to tell she’s got what it takes to be a good soldier. Even from this brief visit, I see the makings of a warrior within her, and ’tis certain to me she deserves the chance to prove herself.”

I stood up straighter again, marveling at the Sky Sergeant. “Th-thank you sir,” I stammered my gratitude.

He gave me a brief nod and smile, one that seemed would have cracked his face had he tried doing it whilst interrogating me. “And in any event sir, I would point out that were you to deny her based on her heritage alone, ‘twould not be in keeping with the Corps motto of ‘all are equal’. Nor would it be the first time you allowed personal feelings of bias or bigotry to influence a decision. And that if ’tis seen as a pattern, certain questions might be asked about your fitness for your post. Or your role in a certain past incident,” he suggested mildly.

The General’s jaw dropped open. “You wouldst not dare…”

“Try me. Sir.” Windshear suddenly wore as cold a look as Thunderbolt’s. “If you think not, I would remind you that the Lieutenant was not the only one who lost good friends that day. I would further point out that I interrupted a duel, and ’twould be seen as a mark of cowardice to back out of a challenge after it has been issued… an act unworthy of the Aerial Corps commanding general.” He gained a sly grin. “But methinks I might let it all pass… if you simply do the right thing and accept her. If you simply live up to the Corps motto of ‘all are equal’ and let her enlist after an eye procedure.”

“This is blackmail…” the General grated.

“This is justice,” Thunderbolt answered for him, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Thank you, Sky Sergeant.”

“My pleasure. ’Tis good to see you again, Lieutenant. Find my office before you leave, and we’ll chat,” he departed with a nod and salute.

“Count on it,” the Lieutenant replied, returning the salute. “Now then, General… I believe you have a few forms to sign…?”

To See One’s Way

We emerged five minutes later, with the General and Thunderbolt swearing me to secrecy as to what I’d witnessed in there. “’Tis between us, Fell Flight,” the latter told me. “Just some bad blood that never went away.”

Bewildered though I was at it, in the end, I got what I wanted. I was able to report success to my family, resulting in many tears and hugs. One of the latter was spared for Thunderbolt as well, who eventually came out with a signed permission scroll authorizing Corps healers to look at me and determine my suitability for crystal lens implants. They did so the very next day, running a range of eye tests on me and determining the extent of my thestral sight. They professed some grudging respect for my night vision, noting it was vastly superior to most pegasi.

’Twould turn out that the only possible pony to do the job was a retired Corps healer now in private practice, a unicorn eye specialist who had a clinic in Baltimare. She arrived in Cloudsdale five days later, delivered by a naval transport dirigible piloted by a Royal Navy airedale.

“Healer Iris Aid, at your service. ’Tis certain I have never gotten to examine the eyes of the thestral before,” the older mare with a violet coat, silver mane and spectacles cutie mark told me almost giddily as she examined me for the first time, giving me the same range of tests the Corps healers had all over again, plus a few additional ones she seemingly came up with on the fly. Her eccentricity aside, she, too, was very impressed by my night vision and ability to discern detail at distance in low light, and equally appalled by how much weaker it was during the day.

I’d never really noticed it outside of my exposure headaches, but in intense daylight my eyesight tended to get washed out in the middle distance, leaving me only able to see near objects clearly whilst everything further out melted into a hazy blur. I’d gotten so used to it I never realized anything was wrong, but it turned out I was missing a lot and the healer who had initially passed me for my pre-induction eye exam had perchance been taking pity on me… or was simply worried of incurring the wrath of Lieutenant Thunderbolt if she didn’t okay me.

Whatever the reason, Iris Aid seemed to take to her task like a foal to a new toy, displaying a childlike excitement at the problem I presented, considering me an intriguing challenge to meet. “I believe I can help you, Fell Flight,” she told me at the end of the first day, propping her head on her hoof as she studied me like an interesting lab specimen. “But methinks ’twould take me some time to come up with a working design, which I must return to Baltimare to create. Wouldst you be willing to visit me there…?” she asked hopefully.

With the Corps paying the expenses, the answer was yes, and I ended up flying for the first time on a military transport in the company of not just the airedale, but several veteran Corps ponies, who seemed quite wary of me at first. When asked why I was there, I told them the truth, and got startled reactions in response. But at least a couple of them seemed to take a genuine interest in me, and wished me luck as they were dropped off at Outpost Alpha on the gryphon border. “’Tis true the gryphons love to hit us at night. So if your night vision is as good as you say, methinks we could definitely use it,” one mare told me wanly, the flight stopping at the outpost just long enough to switch pilots and take on some supplies. I wasn’t allowed to do much more than stretch my legs and wings during the layover, though at least I got some dinner out of it from the outpost mess hall, bland though ’twas. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d find some opportunities to eat meat if I was stationed at one of these places.

’Twas evening as we departed again, and I found myself staring across the border bay into the deepening darkness of the northeast that marked gryphon territory, a place of wild weather and predatory warriors that the Corps kept at constant bay. I wondered what they would think of me, an at-least partially predatory pony…

I would get my answer eventually, and not like it at all.

* * * * *

We arrived at Baltimare not long after midnight, alighting at a Navy ‘base’ that consisted of four dilapidated airships, one of which appeared to be converted to a museum. I had a room reserved for me on base there, but I didn’t sleep despite two hours of tossing and turning, taking my leave and flying over the city at night, either due to anxiety or my thestral side perchance asserting itself. Needing to burn off some tension, I found an open pub instead and got myself a few drinks and later into a brawl with the earth pony dock workers.

To my great surprise, they accepted me as one of them afterwards—“Anypony who can fight like that is a pony worth knowing!” one stallion proclaimed after I’d clocked him, buying me a fresh drink and food; I was further stunned when he and a couple other colts showed interest in me as a mare. Uncertain what to think of that—’twas certainly a new experience for me given I’d never seen myself as desirable before—I thanked them for their hospitality and stayed with them until nearly sunup, after which I retreated to my room and waited for my appointment time to come.

’Twas scheduled for 11am, and I couldn’t remember any other wait seeming so long. But the appointed time finally came, and I was invited into Iris Aid’s opulent office, lined with bookshelves and framed pictures containing citation scrolls from healer school and her now-finished Corps career. Getting right down to business, she showed me a series of crystals of different types and sizes. She’d already treated them with light-dimming magic, and she demonstrated its effect—when she flashed the crystals with bright light, they instantly darkened, rapidly becoming opaque as the light level increased. My excitement was somewhat tempered, however, as they were somewhat slower to lose their opacity as the light level dropped again, and she warned me there were also ‘practical difficulties’ with bonding them to my eyes she hadn’t yet figured out.

“But let us not let such things stop us right now!” she told me with foal-like eagerness, leading me into her eye exam room, where she had prepared spectacles containing samples of the various crystal lenses to get some idea of the proper magic levels and what crystal type was most comfortable for me. The ruby reacted to light quickest, but cast a pinkish haze over everything and methinks I wasn’t interested in having what amounted to permanently rose-colored glasses. The opal was clearest and affected my perception of colors the least, but also slowest to react to light level changes. The sapphire fell in between on both categories, but would also turn my eyes from gold to green.

In the end, I left both heartened and disappointed. Perchance my hopes had been up too high; I’d been half-thinking that she would be able to give me the lenses right then and there. I was up against a deadline of sorts; in order to enlist for the next training class at Fort Stratus, I would have to pass all qualification exams at least two months before it began and missing that deadline meant another three months before the next class. “Be patient, my young friend!” she told me, not disheartened in the least. “You are a challenge, and one I relish. I will find you a solution. On that, I give you my word!”

In the end, I missed the deadline, staying in Baltimare for nearly two months, seeing Iris Aid several times a week. Each visit she had modified the design slightly; each visit she had something new for me to try. Not every change was an improvement, but I started to sense she was closing in on an answer. The sapphire variant seemed increasingly the best bet as she tweaked her magical treatments; I found that looking through such lenses—she had me wear them as spectacles during the day to test them—did me the most overall good in sunlight and affected me the least at night. It cast everything slightly blue, to be sure, but ’twas a color of night, and thus more comfortable to me.

The visit was fruitful in other ways, too. I found that the dock worker earth ponies, far more informal and friendly than the average pegasus, accepted me fully, even offering me some work for the short time I was there. Hating to remain idle or confined to the base, I accepted and made some additional bits for it, becoming a courier and helping them mount masts and rigging on new trade ships destined for overseas or the pony colonies in the Dolphin Islands. I even saw a zebra ship come in once or twice to sell some goods, though they had minimal interaction with us as our relations with them were far more strained.

To my great surprise, I even found myself with a romantic interest before long. A burly earth pony stallion named Topsail, who had been my favorite pub partner, became my first lover! He took me, to my delight, under the moonlight out on the docks, saying he wanted me to be as comfortable as possible and feel in my element, much as the docks were his. It worked, and in the end I couldn’t have asked for a better first time. When I asked him the next morning why he favored me of all mares, a part-thestral pegasus, he said that he found me exotic and far different than most pegasi, who tended to look down their noses at earth ponies and not interact with them at all. “Those stuck-up naval unicorns and pegasi don’t give us the time ’o day as a rule and ain’t any fun to be around. But you are!” He ruffled my regrowing mane.

I chuckled, but couldn’t help roll my eyes. Methinks I’d been anything but impressed with the Naval base I was billeted at, as the blueblooded pegasus soldiers and unicorn officers seemed more interested in the crease of their uniforms than the state of their ships. ’Twas true what I’d heard then; that the Navy was mostly used as a ferry service for real soldiers, and was where nobles enlisted to say they’d served without actually serving. I couldn’t imagine they’d be any good in actual combat and ’twas but one more reason I had no interest in joining them.

In any event, I left my room at the base after that and started bunking with Topsail the very next day.

A Promise Made

Three weeks into my stay, Iris Aid found me at the pub I frequented late one evening and told me she’d made a breakthrough, apologizing for barging in but saying she couldn’t wait to show me.

With her tied-up mane bun and spectacles, she looked more than a little out of place in a rough-and-tumble dockworker bar, but she barely seemed to take notice of her surroundings as she cleared a table to show me her prototype, holding it up in her aura—a very thin sapphire crystal lens, fully bondable to my eye, treated to be both flexible and transparent except when filtering light.

“It would draw on your own internal magic to keep its spell going, so its magic will never need recasting! And it now changes opacity levels instantly! Look!” She flashed her horn at it, which caused spots in my vision, but also made the crystal instantly turn its natural deep blue shade, which I’d found least obtrusive of all her candidate crystals. “’Tis true it may turn your eyes green when filtering light, but ’tis a small price to pay!” she promised me as she turned her horn glow off, causing the lens color to fade back to near-perfect transparency almost instantly, only a weak hint of blue remaining.

She then demonstrated that it could change opacity to match current light levels, varying the intensity of her horn to show how the lens would turn varying shades of its natural blue hue in response. The other patrons stomped their hooves appreciatively when her demonstration was done, and I found I had tears in my eyes. Before me was, potentially, the answer to all my prayers, and green eyes seemed like a small price to pay for finally getting all I’d wanted. “When can I do this?” I asked her eagerly.

“Be patient, my young friend. The Corps bureaucracy will demand full accounting first and their healers would wish to examine these prototypes as well…”

“No! Do it now!” I exclaimed at her with a wing flare and hoof stomp, startling her before I regained control of my suddenly-surging emotions. “If at all possible, please do it now, ma’am. General Squall Line doesn’t want me in the Corps and may just sit on it. Or he’ll have the Corps healers pick at your design endlessly before deciding to reject it. But methinks if I return with them already implanted and working…”

She grinned slyly. “Methinks I like your thinking, young filly. Methinks that can be arranged… after all, my instructions were to ’determine your suitability’ for crystal lenses and come up with a working design. But what better way to find out if it works then by implanting them?” she chuckled. “I’ll happily bill the Corps for it afterwards and if General Squall Line complains, I’ll simply point to his own orders! So enjoy yourself tonight, my young friend, and come back to my office tomorrow at 10am! I’ll clear my schedule and have everything ready for you. But do try to get some sleep and be sure you have no more drink tonight or food after midnight, hm?” she waggled an admonishing hoof at me. “’Tis important you abstain, young filly. The sedation magic doesn’t take well to such things in your system.”

Though ’twas certain I’d been looking forward to getting a bit soused at that point in celebration, the dock worker mares and stallions told me they’d buy me all the drink I wanted afterwards. In the end, I had but a single ale and sang drinking songs the earth ponies had taught me, ending the night on a hopeful note with a couple wrestling matches with Topsail. Ones that soon turned into something far more than just friendly…

Sleep was a tall order that night, even in Topsail’s company. I was giddy, but ’twould be a lie to say I wasn’t also fearful. I had no love for Squall Line after my brief meeting with him, but his warning still echoed in my ears that the implants could just as easily blind me as fix me. There were no guarantees of anything for something like this, especially something so untried. Was the general right? Was Iris Aid as good as she said? Was her solution real, or just a moonlit mirage that would leave me worse off than before?

I shared my fears with Topsail, who listened and held me, promising he’d be there with me the whole time. “It’ll be fine, Fell Flight. That mare seems to know what she’s about. Reckon I do hate to see your eyes go green, though…” he told me, making a point of kissing them through my closed eyelids. “Gold suits you, filly.”

I snuggled closer to him at that, my heart feeling a warmth it never really had before. To have so many ponies there rooting for me, to have good friends and even a lover…

For the first time in my life, I felt like I was truly starting to find myself and my place.

The morning dawned cool and rainy as the local weather patrol gave the city a scheduled soaking.

Before heading over, I sent a letter via the naval dispatch office to Thunderbolt telling him what was happening. I asked him not to let Squall Line or my parents know until afterwards, explaining I didn’t want the former swooping in to block it or the latter to worry. I did feel a bit guilty about not telling my parents and the rest of my herd, but I just didn’t want to wait any longer. The die was cast and bets were made just as in the pub games I’d learned to play, and what would be would be.

Still, ’twas certain I had as much anxiety as anticipation when Iris Aid welcomed me. After I’d had a parting hug and kiss with Topsail, she led me to her procedure room, where two other unicorn healers awaited along with an array of magical implements, the new lenses floating in a magical stasis field that kept them sterile. We chatted for a while, discussing possible risks and complications, and she held my hoof for a minute as I laid back in the chair, trying to put me at ease. At first she’d just seen me as a particularly interesting patient, but something almost motherly had grown in her towards me over the course of the past several weeks. She genuinely cared about me, and it showed. At last, the time came. “Are you ready, Fell Flight?” she asked, and I nodded, if somewhat jerkily.

“Then here we go…” her horn glowed as she began to cast the sedation spell, my heart racing in spite of it.

“Be at peace, young filly…” she told me as the magic began to take effect and the edges of my vision began to close in, punctuating her statement by kissing me on the forehead. “You’re doing a brave thing and I will not fail you. Your new eyes await…” was the last thing I heard before darkness claimed me and my unaltered eyes closed for the final time.

Author's Note

Well, it now appears that Fell Flight will have a three-chapter story arc. But that’s fine. As with all my writing, the story takes me where it needs to go and the characters tell me their stories as I write. Those of you hoping for some more action again are going to get it in spades next chapter as the story of the surgery aftermath, Fell Flight’s training, and her first time in battle is told. Let it be known that in writing the final section, I drew on my own experience for surgery three years ago when I got my jaw advanced to try to fix my severe obstructive sleep apnea.

The story will return to the present after this arc is complete, focus falling back on Firefly. I will write the chapter completing Fell Flight’s arc next, then go back to The Lawyer and The Unicorn and finish the trial scene there before returning here. But before all that... it’s Vegas time!!!!! On vacation in Sin City all next week, and I’ll be posting updates on my play to my blog as requested for those interested.

Thanks to my usual cabal of prereaders, including AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, TheGoldCrow, and James CyberLink. Additional thanks to co-writer Leo Archon for writing a large chunk of the opening scene with Squall Line.

Interlude #2, Part 3: Eye for an Eye

As I read over the previous two chapters and write this final one, I find many old memories awakened. Memories of the filly I once was, of friends made and lost, and of the events that would mold me into the mare I became. ’Tis a treasured chapter of my life, one that would set many things in motion and eventually lead me to a fateful meeting with my future friend and Captain.

’Tis the birth of a soldier, and the making of a warrior that this tale will now relate. A trial by fire, and a fight for acceptance from a Corps and comrades that would only give it grudgingly. ’Twas also a time when I truly accepted my dual nature, though I yet had no knowledge of how important ‘twould one day be.

First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral Emissary
Thestral Conclave, Canterlot

Awakening

A hard lesson I had to learn repeatedly was that there are rarely quick fixes in life.

I was shown it once when I was rejected by the thestrals, and I had to learn it many more times before it finally sunk in. ’Tis now certain to me that even if destiny exists, it does not simply get served to you; a pony must work towards it with all their heart and soul, accepting many setbacks and missteps along the way.

’Tis how we learn and grow, facing our fears and accepting failure, until we finally learn enough to overcome the obstacles we face and reach the place we were meant to be.

I awoke from surgery late that day, very groggy and bleary-eyed. The problem was, the bleariness didn’t go away. I wasn’t fully aware of it at first, but then again I couldn’t see much of anything as my eyes were nearly swollen shut, and there was considerable pain in them. “Fell Flight? Can you hear me?” Iris Aid called to me. As sluggish as my wits were, it took some time for her words to register, and when they finally did, all I could manage was a weak nod. “’Tis over, child. Rest now,” she told me gently, giving me the same kiss on the forehead she had just before putting me under.

“You there, filly?” Topsail’s voice called out to me, etched with concern. My only response was to reach out for him with my hoof, which he instantly took. “Can I stay with her, ma’am?” he asked.

“Of course,” I heard the smile in her voice. “The sedation magic is wearing off, but her body and aura need time to heal now. I will cast a sleep and painkilling spell on her so she can rest.”

“Wait…” I finally managed to speak. “Did it… work…?” I had to know, my fears growing as all I could see was a hazy blue blur. Was the General right? Had I been blinded? In my zeal to make things better, had they now become irrevocably worse…?

Methinks I was worried when she hesitated for a moment, but I later realized she was trying to find a way to be both truthful and reassuring. “’Tis too soon to tell, child. We must now wait and give your eyes time to adjust and heal,” she told me, echoing the warnings she had shared before putting me under. “’Twould likely be a week or two before we know. In the meantime, your only task is to rest. I must do so myself now after so much magic expenditure, but I will leave you in the care of one of my assistants… and your attentive coltfriend,” she said with what I had a vague sense was a grin, casting the final spell on me.

The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was him asking for a second recovery bed to be brought in so he could sleep beside me.

* * * * *

I woke up the next morning to a surprise—the presence of my parents and Thunderbolt, who had traveled all night to get there. They were all worried sick and a bit hurt I hadn’t told them, but they were equally relieved to see I was okay, expressing surprise and no little delight that I had apparently found myself a coltfriend. I apologized, saying I didn’t want them to worry; immediately after saying that, I realized how foalish it was and accepted their tearful hugs. They’d even brought two of my younger sisters, Morning Glory and Heat Wave, who were amazed at my change in eye color. The former pronounced it ‘wicked’ whilst the latter asked Iris Aid if she could have ruby implants to turn her eyes red.

Were I to say that the operation went smoothly, Iris Aid would no doubt agree. However, there was a vast difference between looking through an external crystal lens, and actually having it as part of me. It took nearly a month after the operation before I became fully accustomed to the implants and the small drain they put on my natural magical field. In the meantime not only was my vision blurry, but my very power of flight suffered somewhat; with my innate pegasus magic now constantly tapped to power the spell, I found that even after recovery, I was at least slightly slower and had noticeably less stamina in the air.

Iris had to tweak the enchantment a few times, too, to help the blurriness and ensure my vision was not suffering at distance as it had before. I did have a few shaky moments when things seemed to get worse, not better, but thankfully all were fleeting; by the time that month was over, there could be no doubt that the implants worked. The blurriness faded to its previous crispness, and to Iris Aid’s surprise, my body seemed to adapt itself to work with the lenses, my innate magic somehow making them part of me, taking its spell and effects as its own. “Methinks I’m going to submit an article on you to the Canterlot Magic Academy Journal!” she promised me at one point, saying she considered me her greatest triumph as an eye healer.

Such thoughts paled in comparison, however, to the simple fact that within a few weeks more, my eyes had almost completely adjusted. Nearly fully recovered, I spent an entire sunny day with Topsail in one of Baltimare’s bayshore parks, and suffered not a twinge of pain or vertigo. In truth, methinks I spent the entire day wandering around in amazement, finally seeing all I had been missing before. The sun-glittered ocean, the deep blue and white of the sky, even the masts of ships coming from over the horizon were all visible to me now, my eyes turning emerald-green in the sunlight but reverting to nearly their original gold in darkness. To Iris Aid’s surprise, my eyes and aura outright fused with the crystals and, having fully assimilated them, I also regained my previous power of flight, which I put to use by showing up the naval pegasi, flying their base obstacle course in record time.

When all was said and done, ’twas certain the procedure had been successful. Day had become as night to me now, and I found myself nearly as at home in it.

A Dream Rekindled

Upon my return to Cloudsdale—and ’twas certain I was badly torn over leaving Topsail, but he could hardly follow me there—I submitted my renewed application to the Corps with just a few days to spare before the deadline to enter the next training class, two months later. The healer who performed my physical was the same as my first attempt, and she smiled brightly as this time I passed even the vision test with flying colors.

Whilst waiting, I trained with Thunderbolt at his own insistence. “If I know Squall Line, he won’t let you in without a fight. He’ll allow you into basic, but he’s going to try to make it as hard for you as possible. Methinks he’ll try to make you quit however he can,” he warned me, saying he wanted me as tough and battle-ready as possible even before starting. So we got together in the evenings after school and my day job was out, the former Lieutenant spending a couple hours each night and one day a weekend teaching me grappling, hoof-to-hoof and wingblade combat, using a dull-edged training pair he’d somehow procured.

’Twas not only fighting that he instructed me in during those two months; he also taught me tactics and how to speak the gryphon tongue. I had studied it on my own for many months before my first attempt to enlist, in hopes that it would make me a more attractive soldier candidate to the Corps. Already quite fluent in it himself, Thunderbolt agreed it would be a good skill for me to have, noting you just never knew when it might be useful whilst stationed on the border. By the time I returned to the Corps, I was ’about as fluent as anypony,’ according to Thunderbolt, though ’twas certain I could never have passed for a native speaker.

’Twas also certain Thunderbolt was as punishing a combat instructor as he was as patient a teacher at the Remedial Flyers’ camp, and I oft ended up coming home bruised and battered for it. He was not gentle with me, and yet, even then ’twas certain to me he was actually holding back his full strength and skill. To this day, in fact, methinks if he had accepted Squall Line’s initial offer of a wingblade duel, he’d’ve won quite easily even a decade removed from his last time in combat.

He never opened up to me about that last time, save once. With nary a week before my return to Fort Stratus, we stopped training, the former and future Lieutenant telling me that now was the time to rest and heal in advance of entering basic. The night before ’twas time for me to leave, we had dinner together, his treat—he’d even procured a fish from somewhere, and to my great surprise, ate it with me. “’Tis a dirty little secret that we ponies can eat meat, Fell Flight. The pegasi of old certainly did,” he told me with a grin.

Good food and some expensive apple ale loosened lips, so I asked him what combat was like. “’Tis an adrenaline rush like no other,” he told me. “’Tis terrifying yet exhilarating, for you never feel so alive as when you come so close to death…” he said almost wistfully, then blinked as if he’d caught himself, his entire manner and mood suddenly changing. “’Tis not to be loved or desired, ever, Fell Flight. For even if you survive it, it will taint you. Forever change you, and not for the better,” he told me quickly. “To take lives and see friends fall… ’tis a terrible thing. No less so for it being necessary in the face of Equestria’s enemies.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of all that; the mood swing he’d just had. “I just hope I’m ready.”

“’Tis certain no trainee has ever been more ready,” he told me with surety. “If and when the time comes, you’ll do fine. Fear not.”

“Well, I’ve had a good trainer,” I complimented him, then studied him for a moment in the evening light, my crystal lens only partially darkened with the coming of dusk, turning my eyes midway between gold and green. “Sir? If I may ask a personal question…?” as part of our training, I had been addressing him in a military manner; he insisted on observing military protocols to get me fully used to them and obeying orders—’twould be a lie, after all, to say I still didn’t have trouble doing that.

He looked up at me for a moment. “Methinks you may.”

“Well, I’d just like to know…” I fidgeted a bit nervously, worried I was about to stray into dangerous territory, memories he did not want to recall. I still don’t know what compelled me to ask, except that he seemed to want to open up now. “Why did you leave the Corps, sir?”

The Dove and the Demon

His eyes got distant, and he didn’t immediately reply. He then pulled out from his school instructor vest… a single medal. It hung from a red and black ribbon and was carved from pure silver, upon the front of which was ensconced… “Is that a dove?” I asked him, studying it as he held it in his hoof.

“Aye,” he nodded gravely, suddenly somber. “’Tis the Dove of Fidelity. The one award no soldier ever wants to receive,” he told me, and for a moment I thought I saw glistening in his eyes. “’Tis only given… to sole survivors of attacks and ambushes. To have it means all your comrades, all your friends, everypony in your unit you knew and loved… are dead.” He stared off into the distance, lost in brooding memories.

I stayed silent—for what could I say to that?—waiting for him to continue, but not pressing him to do so. “I keep this with me at all times, Fell Flight. To never forget them, or what happened that day. To never forget what they meant to me… or what their loss did to me. To remind myself to honor their memories with life instead of avenging them with further bloodshed and death.”

“’Tis that, then, why you left?” I guessed. “You were losing yourself in vengeance…?”

His eyes squeezed tightly shut for a moment, and for the first time I heard a catch in his voice. “Aye,” he confirmed again, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. “’Twas not mere vengeance, though. ’Twould be more appropriate to say I lost myself in bloodlust, slaying every gryphon I could find—even those who were not a threat,” he told me grimly, whilst I listened, aghast. “In the retaliatory operation that followed that attack, I discovered I had a true talent for killing, and worse… I enjoyed it. I gained an unquenchable thirst for bloodshed and killing became as normal and natural for me as breathing. The gryphons called me demon and put a bounty on my head as I took life without compunction or mercy, even as I told myself that I was doing it for the sake of my former friends.

“I never gave a thought to the fact that ’twas not the right way to do so… until I had a terrible dream one night where I was drowning in blood, killing not just gryphons but fellow ponies. And amongst their bodies… were those of my former friends, dead by my own hooves!”

He took a ragged breath, and ’twas several moments before he could go on. “’Twas then those friends awoke from where they lay, each begging me to stop, telling me I was on the verge of losing myself completely and becoming that very demon that the gryphons called me. That they wanted me to live and be happy again, but I would never find peace like this. That to continue on my current course would only lead to even more pain and suffering, and they could not rest in peace to see what had become of me.

“And they were right,” he said as tears began welling in his eyes. “’Twas only then I realized just how far I had fallen, and how much of myself I had lost. That I was now no better, and in some ways even worse than the raiders that had slain my friends. So I quit the Corps the very next day, leaving that life behind, seeking to salvage what little remained of my soul. I swore on my knees and the love for my friends that I would be a better pony, and ’twas why I chose to teach at the Remedial Flyers school. ’Twas my hope that by doing so—by helping troubled young ponies fly and find themselves—I would find some measure of peace and penance.”

“And have you?” I asked, fearing the answer. “For all you have done for me and so many other ponies, I would say yes!” I offered hopefully.

He smiled wanly. “Thank you, Fell Flight. But methinks ’tis not that simple,” he sighed again. “Perchance I have gained some small measure of atonement over the past ten years. But methinks what I told you back in my office that day holds true—that there is so much blood on my hooves it can never wash away,” he told me sadly. “Worse, violence and bloodletting is an addiction for me. I crave it, even now. And thus, I fear if I ever return to it... I will be undone and become that demon again. So all I can do now is stay as far away from that life as possible and try to help as many ponies as I can. All I can do now is try to do good… and pray that the sun and moon goddesses will come to accept my repentance along with the spirits of my dead friends,” he told me, then turned his haunted eyes on me.

“So heed these words and heed them well, Fell Flight. If you enter the Corps, there will come a time when you will face this trial yourself. A time when you will see your friends and fellow ponies fall before you, and your heart will scream for vengeance.” He took my hoof in his own. “At all costs, resist it. Kill in combat, kill in defense of Equestria and other ponies if you must. But never kill for sport or pleasure. Never give into revenge or bloodlust. ’Tis a very dark sky to fly, and ’tis one even your eyes will lose sight in,” he warned me. “Be a good and honorable soldier. Train well and become the warrior ’tis now certain to me you are meant to be…” he trailed off as he gave my hoof a squeeze, raising his haunted eyes to meet mine.

“And above all else, please be a better pony than me.”

Touched yet troubled beyond words, I did the only thing I could think of. I took him into my embrace, and stayed with him that night, holding him and giving his wounded heart what little comfort I could.

Determination

A week later found me trotting through the gates of Fort Stratus for a second time, my parents, Thunderbolt and even Topsail himself seeing me off properly… the latter sending me off properly the night before, and all promising to return for my graduation. ’Twas only after the gates closed that I found, to my surprise, that Rolling Thunder was not the training officer I was assigned to this time.

’Twas understandable in hindsight; having developed a liking for me, he couldn’t train me dispassionately. I was instead grouped under an older mare who had a reputation as one of the toughest trainers in the Corps; a highly decorated combat veteran they had previously used for problem recruits or to bring up the performance of subpar soldiers. A severe-looking sand-and-cream colored mare with a dust devil cutie mark who was a recent graduate of the Equestrian Officer Academy, she had, until recently, ran the Corps equivalent of the Remedial Flyers’ camp I participated in years earlier as a foal, and had apparently been recalled to Fort Stratus by Squall Line for the express purpose of training and testing me. Her combat exploits made her a minor legend, some of the other Corps trainees told me; by her reputation and manner alone I would not have placed odds on the outcome of a fight between her and Thunderbolt.

“I am Second Lieutenant Sirocco!” she told us as she introduced herself, her gold single-bar rank insignia gleaming in the sun and caustic personality making clear she was just as abrasive as the desert sands she wore the colors of. “And as far as you hatchlings are concerned, I am your princess! Your sun and moon!” she told us as she stalked down the line, taking pains to pick on each trainee in turn, most of whom wilted before her withering gaze and wit.

When she got to me, she sneered. “And just what has happened to my Corps that they’re letting in bucking bat-ponies now?” she snarled, going on to ask me if I needed a cot or would just be hanging upside-down from the barracks rafters to sleep. ’Twas certain, I thought, that she shared Squall Line’s dislike for me, as she never left me alone for a moment after that, constantly berating and criticizing me, much as Windshear did for Firefly. More than once I nearly challenged her to a duel despite the sense that by doing so I would be biting off far more meat than I could chew; ’twas only the remembered advice of Thunderbolt and thoughts of Topsail that kept my temper in check.

Not helping matters was the fact that I was in the same training group as one of my old schoolyard tormentors, who I could have sworn was conspiring with the Second Lieutenant to wash me out early. After me from day one, she quickly became the leader of the anti-thestral pegasi of the company and goaded me frequently, her new gang calling me names and sabotaging my efforts where they could—everything from kicking over my bucket when I was mopping the floors to stealing my things, or failing that, consistently trying to one-up me in anything I did.

Having had quite enough of this after the first five weeks, I challenged her to a duel, wherein she tried her old trick of attempting to blind me before beating me. This ended with my old rival out cold on the ground; having thought me dazzled by a purloined flash gem she had illegally brought, she rushed right into my haymaker and ended up spending the next week in the infirmary with a shattered jaw. The rest of her eight-pony gang fared no better when they tried to ambush me that evening, variously ending up with broken teeth, limbs, and wings.

’Twas a foalish choice for several reasons; not the least of which was that they tried to attack me at night. Besides, methinks I’d had enough bar brawls with earth ponies by then that average pegasus strength was nothing to me. Couple that with Thunderbolt’s training and the fact they were trying to engage me in darkness, and ’twas certain they stood nary a chance. Within a minute all were down and admittedly ’twas all I could do not to deal them permanent injury for their sneak attack.

If anything marked a turning point in my training, ’twas that night. I had single-hoofedly defeated eight fellow pegasi, who were discharged along with my former rival by direct order of Colonel Freefall—at Sirocco’s recommendation, to my great surprise.

When they protested, saying they were ’just trying to preserve the pony purity’ of the Corps, Freefall reminded them of the Corps motto, saying I had just as much right to be there as they did, and thus far, I had proven a far better soldier than they. They then demanded I be kicked out too, saying I couldn’t be trusted with such combat skill as the Corps was teaching me, but Sirocco’s response was simple and devastating, and even more impressive given the pressure she was apparently being put under by Squall Line to wash me out:

“She took your worst, and won. She’s met every challenge and done everything asked of her; she didn’t retaliate to all your provocations until you forced her to. General Squall Line told me to press her until she broke, but she hasn’t, and thus I’m left with one inescapable conclusion: that she is a soldier and a good one.

“But methinks you are nothing more than a bunch of bigots and bullies,” she informed them. “The Corps is built on a culture of camaraderie and trust; the promise of all soldiers watching each other’s back—not stabbing them in it! If you cannot be trusted as trainees to take care of each other, you can hardly be trusted to do so as soldiers!” she announced, personally throwing the group out of basic on their collective flanks.

Though I had clearly misjudged her; ’twas not to say she let up on me. She was clearly cut from the same cloth as Thunderbolt, fulfilling the same role as Windshear to my future Captain in that she was determined to make sure I’d be ready for anything from gryphon raiders to bigoted and overbearing officers. She was hard on me, but I knew by then she was doing it for me, and having gained great respect for her, I obeyed all her instructions without question.

My fellow trainees never fully accepted me but I refused to let that get to me; I continued through basic training with no further incidents to speak of. I was well above average in most areas, and even excelled in some, particularly the night combat drills we held during the final four weeks of basic, proving myself able to best both fellow recruits and trainers alike.

And yet, despite my unquestioned abilities, when I graduated, I did so as a private; I received an apologetic note from Sirocco saying she’d recommended me for Corporal but had been overruled “by those with more stars than me.” I was now more certain than ever that Squall Line had taken grievous offense to being blackmailed into accepting me, and was doing his best behind the scenes to either wash me out of the Corps, or force me to leave on my own initiative. Still, I said nothing about it to anypony; I even accepted my first assignment without a hint of complaint, despite the danger inherent in it.

I was being deployed to Outpost Omega, one of our foremost border bases, and one that was under constant gryphon threat.

Vendetta

Outpost Omega was second in size and importance only to Outpost Gamma, the latter being the headquarters of the Corps’ Fifth Division and command center for operations along the entire length of the pony/gryphon border.

Sitting midway between Gamma and Delta but located more than a hundred miles northeast of both, Omega was more a fortress than an outpost, sitting atop a sharp bend in the border canyon that essentially left it open to attack from three sides. Though badly exposed, ’twas critical for defending several new pony settlements behind it, each garrisoned by an Equestrian Army company for additional defense.

Home to a reinforced battalion, only the very best Corps veterans were normally assigned to this base, as the land it sat on was disputed territory and the threat of gryphon attack there was second to none.

Whilst some Corps graduates would have thought such a first assignment a major compliment, I knew better. Somepony did not want me around, and ’twas no doubt in my mind who. Thunderbolt was particularly outraged when he heard the news, planning to march down to Headquarters immediately and “throw that Luna-damned general out of his office with a lightning bolt!”

I told him no—that this was just another obstacle thrown in my way, and I would defeat it as I had all the others. He shook his head sharply at that—“That base is no picnic, Private—’tis the most dangerous posting we have! If he’s sending you there, ’tis in hope you do not survive!” he warned me—but I still held firm, saying that if surviving it was the only way to prove myself to the General and the entire Corps, I would take it gladly, asking him not to share his fears with my parents.

“Though if I do get killed, feel free to send him to Tartarus to join me!” I invited, and he managed a smile at that, promising he would. But also extracting a promise from me that I would not let it come to that.

Gallows humor aside, I had thought that being so far from Squall Line would remove me from his sphere of influence. I quickly learned, to my dismay, that I was dreadfully mistaken. The base commander, a mare named Master Sergeant Downdraft (an alias, I was certain), seemed to be just as set against my presence in the Corps as the general, and gave me menial, degrading tasks that I was certain were meant to humiliate me.

In that, I’m happy to say that said tasks were only partially successful—whilst some of the veterans hazed me and had a laugh at my expense, many more seemed sympathetic to my plight, a hatchling that had all but been thrown to the timberwolves. I indeed made a few friends there among the rank-and-file, though less for that than the fact I quickly proved I could hold my own with the best of them and then some.

My first time in combat was a fairly routine affair, insomuch as combat can be. A month after my arrival, seventy gryphon raiders descended on the base from three different directions. ’Twas a probe more than a genuine attack as they seemed to be merely testing our defenses; casualties were few and there were no fatalities as they made no real effort to assault the base.

I did not truly bloody my hooves in that fight, as they were not about to send a new hatchling into battle where she might be a danger to not only herself but to veteran soldiers; I was instead sent to guard the medical wing of the base, which was actually underground. That did not mean I saw no action, however—’twould seem that the intent of the raid was a feint to distract from a smaller group that was infiltrating the base in an attempt to steal supplies.

I found that out when I encountered a group of three raiders attempting to gain access to the healer supply rooms. I ambushed them as they turned a corner in the darkness, laying them out with hoofstriker hits to the head, giving me my first look at real gryphons.

’Twould be a lie to say I was impressed. They all seemed too young, rather skinny and bedraggled, wearing old mismatched armor and bearing swords and other weapons that had seen better days. They were untrained and undisciplined; they’d made so much noise trying to gain entry I could hear them an entire corridor away.

So these were the creatures that were Equestria’s greatest enemies? They hardly seemed worth their reputation or the fear we had of them.

I regret I would rue those thoughts before very long.

Betrayal

My capture of the three young raiders earned me some acclaim, if rather grudging in the case of my flight leader and base commander. It turned out the threesome had been anything but their best; they had been sent to raid our healer supply rooms for anything of value, and if possible, kidnap at least one pony; the EIS took them to Gamma for further interrogation and we heard no more of them after.

After six weeks of being there and given little in the way of real duties or trust, they finally consented to sending me out on patrol with the rest of my squad. Or so it seemed as I reasoned that even Master Sergeant Downdraft could not justify leaving me without flight experience for longer than that.

My flight consisted of three veteran mares, all Sergeant or above, as well as myself. Thankfully, two were mares who had taken a liking to me, only the leader, Flight Sergeant Stuka, was in the same camp as the base commander. Oddly, ’twas her who insisted that I take point on the patrol.

I protested my inexperience, but she assured me that it would be perfectly fine. “You wish to be accepted as one of us? You have to prove yourself out here,” she told me with a sly grin. “Take point, bat-pony. Let’s see what you can do…”

I didn’t like the idea of having her behind me, but with two friends there as well, I decided ’twas no real danger. In hindsight, I should have realized ’twas fully meant to be a trap. We had just reached our furthest point from the outpost when I was struck hard across the back of the head, my conscious mind leaving me. I was vaguely aware of being caught by Stuka, who wore a sneering grin. “That’s what you get, bat-pony, for trying to convince us we could trust you.”

“Flight Sergeant!” one of the other two gasped. “This isn’t right!”

“’Tis by direct order of the commander,” Stuka retorted, her voice fading in and out with my senses. “She wants this thestral trash dealt with before she betrays us. We’re just going to make it look like an accident...”

I lost consciousness completely after that, waking up to find myself on the wrong side of the canyon, nearly sixty miles from base with a splitting headache and the sun starting to set. My dismay increased when I realized I’d been stripped of my uniform, weapons, and all my gear; even my canteen and field rations were gone.

I was abandoned and alone, on the wrong side of a simmering border and had no adequate means of defense; ’twas only sheer luck that a gryphon patrol or raider group hadn’t already found me and taken me prisoner or worse. My first priority was to get back to base, so I clambered shakily to my hooves and set off, flying low and slow so that my headache wouldn’t send me to the ground.

’Twas mere happenstance that I even saw the raiders an hour later as I turned a corner in the canyon. Ducking behind an outcropping, I looked for my flightmates or any passing patrol, only to remember I was alone. I mentally kicked myself anew for trusting the words of a pony in Squall Line’s camp, but kept an eye on the gryphons. There were only six of them, which I thought strange; to assault a fortification of Omega’s size, far more would be needed. I slunk closer to eavesdrop on them, remembering Thunderbolt’s warning to always approach Gryphons from downwind.

“Should we really be this close to their base?” one of them, a tiercel, was asking as I crouched behind a rock, chancing at least one glance in the deepening dusk. Unlike the first gryphons I’d encountered, this group had a lean and mean look to them, experienced adult raiders who were clearly much smarter and stronger than the teenagers I’d encountered before. They were eating a butchered animal, and smelling meat for the first time since I’d been there, my mouth couldn’t help but water. “Patrols are out and ’tis certain we’ll be caught if we linger.”

“’Tis the entire point,” an eagless replied, picking at the grooves of her talons with the edge of a knife. “We are meant to serve as a distraction and delay, whilst the main group smuggles those civilians back to Castrum Meridianum,” she explained, referring to the nearest gryphon frontier town that was also the base for several notable raider groups. By their black cheek markings and beak piercings, I recognized them from briefings as belonging to Master Indala’s group, who were known to be particularly ruthless and cutthroat.

A reputation confirmed as I listened to their conversation, suddenly very glad Thunderbolt had taken the time to teach me. I didn’t understand every word, but could at least follow the bare meaning of what they were saying. “And just why are we risking our lives for a few leaf-eaters?” another eagless asked, disgust evident on her face as she tore a piece of flesh from a bone with her beak. “Methinks they’re worth more in meat than in gems. We should sell them at the markets, not to those bloody Owls.”

“I do not question the Master’s orders, or the coin that comes with,” the first eagless said in annoyance, sheathing her blade. “And neither should you. Now quit stuffing your gullet and get up! We have a job to do.”

“Getting paid doesn’t matter if we get killed,” the tiercel groused to grumbles of agreement from the others, but obeyed, the entire group then pulling on their helmets and buckling on their sword scabbards.

At that moment, I was torn. By the sound of it, they’d taken or were going to take civilian hostages, and that was information I had to get back to base. One option was to fly back immediately, keeping low and darting through the canyons, but by then it might be too late. Another was to blast in there right now, take them all out and beat the answers out of the leader, but even taking them by surprise I would be facing six to one odds against raider veterans and ’twas unlikely at best I would emerge the victor.

No. Be smart, Fell Flight… I told myself, cognizant of my duty to protect other ponies and promise to Thunderbolt I would not get myself killed. And certainly not in my first real engagement!

In the end, though my headache was fading and fighting blood up after the betrayal by my flight leader, I elected on a third, and assuredly far riskier option. I would let this group go, but track the civilians instead and try to rescue them. If they were earth ponies or unicorns, they could not be flown. They would have to be taken by ground, and I knew from maps of the area there was only one road leading from the border to Castrum Meridianum.

I waited until they were out of sight until I took flight, journeying deep into gryphon territory.

* * * * *

Night fell fully but the moon did not shine as on this side of the border, the weather was wild and a storm was moving in. It mattered little to me as a hard rain began to fall, and I chose a lookout perch high on a cliff overlooking the road, where I could see several miles along it once the torrent passed.

Edible brush and grass nonexistent in the normally arid area, I caught a jackalope for food, smashing its head against a rock and then quenched my thirst with rainwater, almost thinking the rain now falling on the desert had been moon-sent. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was being a foal for trying to do this alone, with no backup, armor or wingblades. Flight Sergeant Stuka had probably reported I had deserted or ran away at the first sign of gryphon contact, or perchance just said I was killed. I looked forward to seeing her again when I got back…

If I got back, I corrected myself as I heard a distant rumble of thunder followed by the telltale squawks of gryphons, punctuated by the cries and pleading of frightened ponies.

Against All Odds

Captain Firefly has spoken before of why we fight, and how we, as soldiers, face the question of killing. In my case, I had to consider it even before my first battle. Whilst the column approached, several barred wagons containing kidnapped earth pony frontier families huddled inside pulled by earth gryphons and guarded on the ground and in the air by what might have been a score more, I thought about my parents and family, about Thunderbolt and Topsail, about Sirocco and all those who had helped me. I wondered what they would think of me now, trying to take on nearly thirty gryphons by myself…

And what they would think if I got myself killed here, trying to save a few doomed ponies destined for the gryphon slaughter mills or worse. I thought of my mother and father’s grief, never knowing what had happened to me, what it would do to Thunderbolt to lose yet another friend… of never being able to share a bed or a night on the Baltimare docks with Topsail again. Such fears started to dissuade me but then I imagined ’twas my family down there, praying for an unlikely rescue, wondering what was to come of them… or even if they would live to see another dawn.

In the end, ’twas that which gave me resolve; I simply could not abandon them and leave them to gryphon mercy. So instead of visions of grief or mourning, I imagined Thunderbolt was at my side guiding and fighting with me, the future pride of my parents as I returned a hero, the gratitude of the ponies below as they were returned to their homes and loved ones. ’Twas not the warrior fantasy of a foal, ’twas that I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that my way home and flight to acceptance lay through that caravan of gryphons…

That more to the point, for the ponies down there, I was now their only hope for deliverance. So with a prayer to Luna herself, I formulated a plan, or tried to. I was a very good brawler, and had taken out eight pegasi in basic even without blades or armor. But I wasn’t facing any then either, and here I’d be taking on nearly thirty armored and experienced gryphon raiders armed with scimitars and crossbows.

The other problem was, Corps combat tactics were designed around fighting in groups in planned patrols and operations, as part of flights and squads. We weren’t assassins like the Black Lances; we fought in the open and not from the shadows, which is what this would require.

So be it, I thought, my jaw set. I decided then and there that if the pegasus side of me was unsuitable for this fight, I would simply call on another part of me…

* * * * *

The first priority of any battle, I’d been told from day one by Thunderbolt, was to gain accurate intelligence. So I circled the caravan a few times well out of sight, trying to get a sense of numbers, weapons and patrol patterns.

Gryphon night vision was said to be quite good, but mine was leagues better, and I could see everything quite clearly, even in a moonless night. There were three pulled wagons strung out in a fifty-yard column, each containing a half dozen ponies crammed in like cattle, guarded by four earth gryphons in front and four in the rear.

There were also several earth gryphons walking or flying alongside and eight sky gryphons flying the equivalent of combat air patrol, their swords and crossbows in easy reach. On the other hoof, they weren’t being that vigilant either in the air or on the ground. I heard plenty of laughter and chatter in celebration of a successful raid, a few poking their captive ponies with blades to make them be quiet or just to hear them beg.

I also heard some suggestions about their disposition that turned my stomach, including some possible uses for the mares in particular that made my jaw clench.

If anypony wonders why I had come to believe the gryphons were irredeemable savages, this first encounter ’tis the reason. From what I could hear, they were planning to sell half to the Office of Owls, who would then interrogate them very ungently for information, whilst the remainder they would keep for meat and… fun. I also caught that they were planning to stop soon for the night, now fifty miles inside of the gryphon border and halfway to Castrum Meridianum, well out of range of Corps pursuit even if they knew where they were… and we would not cross the border unless we did.

So ‘twas up to me. Now that I knew what I was up against, the second priority was one of disguise, and for the first time I wished I was full thestral so I’d have the typical dark coat.

Lacking one, I improvised that by rolling in some mud and then sprinkling dust from a protected rock overhang on my wet wings, turning my wings and hindquarters brown whilst leaving my face and neck white like most of the gryphons were. I glanced at my reflection in a rain puddle, and barely recognized myself, taking pains to cover every piece of white on my wings and lower body I could.

I was ready, and best of all, the gryphons had marked their position quite clearly by lighting some campfires as they stopped for the night. I knew full well by then that there were too many of them for me to take alone, but then again, maybe I didn’t have to? “Sometimes the mere appearance of strength is just as effective as strength itself,” Thunderbolt had once advised me, and ’twas that piece of wisdom that stuck with me here.

Very well, then, but how would I appear to be many when I was but one…?

An Army of One

I spent the next hour readying the scene, going up into the stormy skies repeatedly to gather up lightning-charged clouds, positioning them together in lines around the periphery of the camp… saving a few for precise strikes. They weren’t as malleable or powerful as pegasus-created ones from the Cloudsdale weather factory, certainly packing nowhere near the number of bolts or punch of the military-grade storm clouds we used as distance weapons, but for my purposes, they would do.

My preparations complete, ’twas now time to arm myself for close combat, and the only way I could do so was from my adversaries. Just as a hunter goes for the weak and careless first, I chose my first target accordingly, an older sky gryphon who was flying alone and lagging a bit, sneaking drinks from a flask specially shaped for his beak. I waited until he went for it again before diving on him, impacting his upper spine with both hooves, the adrenaline rush of entering combat giving me extra speed and force. I heard a sickening snap and quickly silenced squawk as his body went limp, falling to the ground below with a soft thump onto rain-softened ground, where I relieved him of his knife and leather armor. ’Twas not the best fit for me, but it would suit as a makeshift disguise and I could use the chest and foreleg protection, at least.

It dimly occurred to me as I stripped him that for the first time, I had killed, my legs and lip trembling briefly with the realization. ’Twas troubling, but I had a job to do, so I blocked it out, knowing that I would have to do far more of it before the night was done. Kill in combat, kill to protect other ponies… Thunderbolt’s words echoed in my head, and I swore to him I would do so and no more.

He was right about one other thing, though. The pure rush it generated was quite heady…

My first target’s absence went unnoticed, so I swiftly slew a second sky gryphon, waiting until after she had called down to her comrades before diving on her, knife in mouth—’twas another of Thunderbolt’s lessons; he’d told me I had to know how to wield gryphon weapons in case they were all that were within reach; we had practiced using ones he’d taken as trophies. Her throat was slashed before she even knew what happened and I took her place in the sky pretending to be her; my white head and chest, leather vest and dirt-browned fur and feathers allowing me to pass as gryphon in low light as long as they didn’t look too closely. Two more sky gryphons fell over the next five minutes to my purloined blade before they realized something was wrong and began calling to their suddenly-missing comrades.

’Twas time for the second part of my plan. So I shot back up into the sky and kicked the first of the clouds I’d lined up, causing a chain reaction that made them release their lightning in a thunderous barrage, half a dozen bolts striking in a line barely fifty feet from their camp.

“It’s the Corps! They found us!” one eagless shouted, all my adversaries looking in every direction for the source of the attack as I shot towards a second bank of clouds on the other side and triggered them, bracketing my quarry with a second round of bolts making it look like multiple pegasus squads had them surrounded.

“But they couldn’t have… ’tis just another passing storm!” her comrade insisted before I gave lie to his statement with a single bolt from a separate cloud that speared his chest, sending him lifeless to the ground. The clouds I’d gathered only contained one bolt, so I quickly shifted to the next in line, taking careful aim and striking an earth gryphon on the ground to make clear I wasn’t neglecting them. That scattered the remainder, the group taking flight into the sky and the dubious safety of darkness; I slew three more with lightning bolts before I ran out of clouds. But they didn’t know that.

“How can they see us? Where are they?” another sky gryphon tiercel called in increasing panic, aiming his crossbow back and forth in darkness, searching frantically as I silently glided down on him—he couldn’t see me, but I could see him.

“Here,” I whispered in his ear through the blade held in my teeth, then slashed the base of his wings, causing him to scream and plummet to his death. His remaining comrades turned towards the shriek, just catching my departing shadow.

“There!” I heard a shout as a crossbow bolt whistled past my ear. “It’s just one pegasus! Kill him! Kill him!” the eagless shouted, perchance thinking me a stallion from my size as she swiftly reloaded another bolt, but by the time she did, I had disappeared into the darkness again.

“It can’t just be one!” another earth gryphon tiercel insisted fearfully, and I did what I could to encourage that impression by blindsiding the eagless who had fired on me, adding her to my growing list of kills with yet another slash to the throat, taking pains to drop her into the middle of a group of grounded earth gryphons.

’Twas the hay straw that broke the horse’s back as the remaining raiders broke and bolted in every direction, fleeing as fast as their wings could carry them. There was clearly no honor among thieves as they fled the scene, abandoning their leader, who called them cowards and then grabbed a young foal out of a cage and held a blade to her throat as he ordered me to show myself, daring me to face him. As he was all that was left, I did so, swooping down and landing before him, stepping into the light of a nearby campfire.

My appearance gave him a start as he saw my cat-eyes glowing with reflected flame. I can only imagine how I must have looked to him in the firelight with flared wings and blood spatters; a demon from Tartarus ready to drag him down to the underworld where he belonged. “What the… what kind of pony are you?” he demanded to know, speaking accented Equish.

“The kind that will kill you if you don’t release her,” I told him in equally accented Aeric.

He stared a moment more, then sneered as he finally figured out what I was. “Is that supposed to scare me, bat-pony?” he asked. “You still haven’t won! I have hostages, and if you don’t surrender like a good little filly, I’m going to slit this little filly’s throat!” he threatened, pushing his blade into her neck hard enough to break the skin, eliciting a trickle of blood and whimper, her mother sobbing as she watched helplessly from the cage.

“Do so and you die,” I told him dispassionately, feeling never more complete as a pony and soldier than I did at that moment, accepting both parts of my being for the first time. “I slew half your gang, and methinks the other half is flying as fast as they can away from here. You’re all alone now. Think I can’t slay you, Master Indala?” I recognized him from the briefings on local raider groups.

He stared at me, then smirked. “Methinks a gryphon just can’t get good help these days,” he finally sneered. “I’ll knock their heads together when I get back to town. In the meantime, methinks I’ll be taking this little one with me!” He took flight with the foal. “Don’t follow, or she dies!”

For the first time in my life, I hissed.

“Save her! Please!” her mother begged me from the cage.

“She can’t!” mocked the tiercel in Equish, holding the whimpering foal closer as he hovered. “Methinks I’ve heard of your kind, bat-pony. ’Tis said you were once servants of The Nightmare and your night vision exceeds ours. Pity for you, it comes with a great vulnerability—that you can be blinded by daylight!” he pointed out.

I sneered at that, suspecting what he was about to do, but deciding to play along in order to give him a final, and very fatal surprise. “Perchance you haven’t noticed, Master Indala, but ’tis night and daylight is hours away. And methinks you can’t fly very fast or far with a hostage.”

“Methinks I won’t have to… with this!” he turned away and squinted as a flash gem suddenly landed and detonated in front of me, directly in my face. My sapphire lenses turned instantly opaque, protecting my vision but for a few small and quickly fading spots, but I made a show of crying out and staggering back, clutching at my eyes whilst taking great pains to fall near a discarded scimitar blade. Certain I was blinded, he took immediate advantage, dropping his hostage and drawing his own sword, charging me, raising it in both sets of talons for a killing strike.

The light fading, my lenses went transparent again, my eyes going from green back to nearly my original gold. Waiting until his sword was at its highest point and he was at his most vulnerable, I grabbed the scimitar with both hooves and shot upwards, aiming it for his neck. I saw his shocked expression as it connected cleanly, separating his head from his body with frightening ease. “Pity for you, I no longer have that vulnerability,” I hovered over and told his severed head, hoping he could see and hear me before he died. “Enjoy your stay in Tartarus, former Master.”

There was silence in the camp as I landed and kicked his head away. Then a great cheer came up from the captive ponies, who I set about freeing. I discarded my disguise as I did so, though there was little I could do about the dirt and blood covering most of my body at the moment. The foal hugged my leg, sobbing, whilst the mother wasn’t far behind, clutching me and thanking me repeatedly.

The one stallion present simply stared at me in disbelief as he held his herd close. “But… why did you come for us? Why did you help us? You’re part thestral!” he recognized.

“That makes me no less a pony,” I told him gathering up the former captives and leading them on the long walk back to the border.

“Who are you, anyway?” asked another foal, staring up at me in awe.

I smiled at her, ruffling her mane with a hoof. “Private Fell Flight, Equestrian Aerial Corps,” I told her proudly, though at that point, I feared I might not have that rank or association for much longer. So be it, I decided. The feeling of utter triumph, of being loved and revered at that moment would last me a lifetime.

Homecoming

It took three days to make the journey back, traveling by night, keeping clear of gryphon patrols. The rains brought the desert land to life quickly, so we ate the swift-growing grasses around the streambeds, and I even convinced the foals to try some fish. To their parents’ chagrin, they liked it, and by the end of it they had come to greatly like me. I learned that the family whose filly I’d rescued directly hailed from Stalliongrad, and had been visiting one of the border towns close to Omega when they were captured.

On reaching the border canyon, I flagged down a passing Corps patrol, thankfully lead by one of the friendlier Flight Sergeants. On seeing me, she lead her flight down, and her expression was one of relief; she had clearly missed me. Explaining the situation, they fetched a sky carriage to bring the civilians up to the base.

On our return to Outpost Omega, the dumbfounded gate sentries directed us to the base commander’s office. As I approached, I heard two unmistakable voices, the pairing of which caused me to smile.

“I am getting tired of your excuses, commander! I want a straight answer!” thundered the voice of Second Lieutenant Sirocco. “What happened to Private Fell Flight?!”

“As I have repeatedly stated, ’twould seem she deserted, ma’am,” she answered without a hint of regret or sorrow. “Flight Sergeant Stuka says she broke and ran at the first sight of gryphons. I would be happy to show you her report if you like.” I could all but hear the sneer in her voice.

“Horseapples!” snarled Thunderbolt, bringing his hoof down hard on her desk. “Fell Flight would never desert just from seeing the enemy! I know you have problems with her, just like Squall Line! So where is she?!” I watched through the door window as he grabbed the commander’s uniform lapels and shook her hard.

I realized I would never have a better opportunity to make an entrance, so I threw open the door right then. “I’m right here, Lieutenant!” I announced proudly. “Private Fell Flight reporting, ma’am!” I saluted Downdraft for what I intended to be the final time, smirking as I saw her pressed up against a wall by Thunderbolt.

The base commander, Sirocco, and Thunderbolt turned to regard me with shock, surprise, and relief, respectively. The first recovered quickly, turning stern and shoving Thunderbolt away. “And where the buck have you been, private? Being AWOL is a severe offense!”

“Ma’am, I’ve been deep in gryphon territory, rescuing civilian hostages!” I told her in perfect earnestness, struggling to keep the smile off my face.

“What a load of horse manure,” she sneered. “Then where are they, private? Where are these mythical prisoners you liberated?”

On cue, the three earth pony families walked through the door, filthy, hungry… and very happy to be home. “She saved us, commander!” the stallion spoke for all of them. “She isn’t lying! She saved us all! Even slew a dozen gryphons to do it!” he said to the tearful thanks and nods of the others.

“She’s amazing! She’s the best pony ever!” the earth pony foal I’d rescued cried, clutching my leg as Downdraft’s utterly stunned expression gave me no small amount of glee.

I waited until the families had finished giving me accolades and at least the foals had left before carrying out the coup de grâce. “I ask that these fine ponies receive immediate medical attention. Oh, and ma’am…” With a triumphant glance at Thunderbolt, I threw a sealed bag on her desk where it landed with a heavy thump; I’d carried it with me the whole way home, saving it for just this moment. “I wish to further report that Master Indala’s raider group will no longer be a problem.”

“And why is that…?” Downdraft asked suspiciously as she opened the bag carefully… and promptly retched as the foul stench of decay hit her full in the face.

Sirocco and Thunderbolt wrinkled their noses, too, but were far less squeamish as the latter reached into the bag and pulled out… Master Indala’s head, easily recognizable by his black war paint and multiple beak piercings, his swollen tongue hanging out his open beak. “Well done, Private!” Sirocco said with a smile, studying the head closely, seemingly admiring my work. “Indala ran one of the worst raider groups there was. Methinks this will do wonders for frontier peace… and your reputation.”

Sealing the bag, a still-gagging Commander Downdraft tried to bluster. “The hay it will! She abandoned her post and—”

“I was abandoned first,” I remarked dryly before my face contorted into a snarl. “By Flight Sergeant Stuka, at your orders!” I accused, taking a menacing step towards her, my size and feral appearance making her take an involuntary one back. “She knocked me out and stripped me of my weapons and uniform and abandoned me on the gryphon side of the canyon, leaving me for dead!” I announced, fire in my eyes. “For trying to have me killed, we are going to duel, commander! Right here! Right now! And the terms of victory… will be death!” I brandished my gryphon blade and slammed my hoof down on her desk, causing her to flinch back, her eyes wide.

“Calm yourself, Fell Flight,” Thunderbolt said, defusing the threatened fight by stepping between the Master Sergeant and I, his voice even, though there was great anger in his eyes. “Rest assured, justice will be served, but it serves nopony to engage in a duel to the death. Take it from me—for a pony such as her, public disgrace and dishonorable discharge will hurt far worse.”

“Aye,” Sirocco agreed, her eyes hooded. “And to that end…” She promptly stalked over to the other mare and ripped off her rank insignia. “Corporal Downdraft, on my authority as 5th Division operations officer, you are hereby demoted and relieved of command of Outpost Omega. You will accompany me back to Gamma, where you will face court-martial, pending an official inquiry into your actions.” She then turned to me and considered me for a moment before smiling. “’Tis certain I don’t normally do this, but ’tis also certain you’ve more than earned it, and I will make sure the paperwork goes through.” Ripping off the three bottom rockers from Downdraft’s taken insignia, she proceeded to affix the remaining three stripes to my shoulders, then stepped back and saluted me. “If I had my way, you wouldst have had two of these to start. Well done, Sergeant Fell Flight!”

I admit, I was struck speechless by the gesture. I had thought my unauthorized actions would result in my termination from the Corps, but instead, I had been promoted! All I could think to do in the situation was salute, as the families cheered for me.

Downdraft, however, wasn’t out of fight yet. “You can’t do this, Lieutenant! I was only acting under orders of general Squall Line!”

Sirocco’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really? Show me that order!” she directed, causing the now-former commander to sweat even more profusely.

“Well, there is no record of it, ma’am… “ she fidgeted.

“A likely story!” I accused, my ears still laid back.

“Unfortunately, it is,” Thunderbolt said in disgust. “Squall Line’s no foal. Methinks he would hardly be so obvious about it. I’m sure that whatever instructions he gave were unofficial and less order than suggestion.”

“As you say,” Downdraft smirked, feeling on safer ground again. “And methinks that as soon as he hears what happened, he’ll reinstate me promptly and throw this filth out.”

I couldn’t hold myself back, snarling and leaping over the desk to attack her; it took both Thunderbolt and Sirocco to restrain me. “Stop, Sergeant! She isn’t worth it!” the latter told me.

“You’ve already won, Fell Flight. Remember what I said about revenge and don’t sully your victory now,” Thunderbolt added, gently pulling me away as Sirocco had Downdraft placed under arrest, marching her out the door and leaving her second, SFC Gust Front, in charge.

After she left and I had accepted some final thanks from the rescued families, I suddenly felt very tired. I’d been operating on no sleep and sheer adrenaline for days, refusing to crack for the sake of the ponies I was saving. But now that I had gotten them to safety, my body was demanding rest, the emotional and physical demands of the past three days catching up to me all at once. “Fell Flight? Are you all right?” Thunderbolt noticed me starting to sway.

“S-Sir? M-Methinks I need to...” I began unsteadily as my legs suddenly buckled. My mentor barely caught me before I collapsed completely, no longer able to support my own weight. “Sleep,” I finished, perchance slightly needlessly.

Thunderbolt smiled. “Mission accomplished, soldier. Job well done. Now let’s get you to the infirmary,” he said as he placed me on his back, carrying me the entire way there; despite my sudden fatigue, I couldn’t help but smile at the title he had just bestowed on me.

Soldier. I am a soldier… I repeated the word in my head and realized I liked the sound of it, to say nothing of the genuine pride I heard in his voice. Mission accomplished… my thoughts echoed further, and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Victory

A week later, I found myself back at Corps headquarters in Canterlot, cleaned up but back in my private’s uniform. This time, my escort was Lieutenant Sirocco, and her face reflected the anger I was just barely containing. There were several reasons for our ire; not the least of which was an official notice that had arrived from Corps HQ at Outpost Omega announcing that Downdraft was being reinstated as commander of the base, and I was stripped of my rank, effective immediately. Worse, all news of the raider attack and my subsequent rescue of civilian hostages had been suppressed; there was now no mention of them in the official reports. As far as the Corps and my service record was concerned, they had never happened.

I notified both Sirocco and Thunderbolt of the situation; Thunderbolt, however, had just started with another remedial class and was unable to assist me. But Sirocco more than made up for him as we stalked through the halls towards Squall Line’s office. Everypony we met fairly jumped out of our path not just for us, but for who was following us.

Sirocco did not even bother with courtesy when we reached his office, glaring the two guards out of the way before kicking the doors open and marching inside. “General Squall Line, what is the meaning of this?!” she snapped, brandishing the scroll that contained his orders before him.

“I don’t recall owing you or anypony else an explanation, Lieutenant,” he growled, not even looking at me. “My orders are given and final. If you two don’t like them, you can either leave my office, or leave the Corps!” he rang for his sentries, who did not respond. For he was no longer the highest authority present.

“Methinks I could say the same for you, General Squall Line,” a new mare voice broke in, calm and measured yet very commanding. Squall Line’s jaw dropped along with his knee as four large gold-armored Celestial Guardsponies entered along with Princess Celestia herself, towering over us all.

She had held an audience with me that morning following a personal appeal for intervention from both Thunderbolt and Sirocco, co-signed by the mares and stallion of the families I’d rescued. After hearing us out, her frown deepening the more she heard, she promised she would look into the matter quickly—by which she meant immediately. “And I’m afraid at this point, you owe me an explanation.”

“M-My Princess!” he stammered, hurriedly bowing. “I was not informed of your arrival!”

“Just as I was not informed of either this young mare, her obstacles or her exploits,” she replied evenly but cooly, the barest of edge in her voice. “Wouldst you please explain your actions regarding her? Because from all I have heard, she deserves praise and commendation, not demotion.”

Squall Line visibly swallowed. “My princess, please understand… I only sought to protect the Corps and Equestria itself with my actions.”

“Really. And protect them from what, exactly?” she asked, never losing her measured tone even as her annoyance began to grow. “From a mare who, from all I have heard, is one of the best young soldiers your Corps has seen in some time? A mare who endured much for the simple sake of acceptance, risking life and limb to rescue a dozen kidnapped ponies from gryphon clutches?”

“I… do not dispute her actions, My Princess,” he replied carefully, perchance recognizing he was now in very thin air. “But ’tis my considered judgment she cannot be trusted. You of all ponies know her kind betrayed us once before!”

For the first time, Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “Do not invoke the legacy of my sister’s fall in your defense, General. The Nightmare is no more, and the thestrals have lived peacefully among us for centuries. I have spoken to this young mare and am satisfied she seeks nothing more than to belong.

“I do not make it a habit of overruling my generals or involving myself in day-to-day military affairs, but your actions are unacceptable in light of Ms. Fell Flight’s undeniable heroism. I have already ordered the arrest and court-martial of Master Sergeant Downdraft and Flight Sergeant Stuka for attempted murder. And though I do not believe you told them to kill her, you certainly encouraged her persecution and your career now hangs by a thread for it.”

He went pale. “If it pleases My Princess, I will reinstate and decorate Private Flight immediately,” he offered placatingly.

She studied him carefully, noting as I did that no apology was offered. “As I have yet to hear any acknowledgement of wrongdoing, I’m afraid it would please me more to accept your resignation, General Squall Line,” she pronounced sentence on him.

The General went crestfallen as both Sirocco and I smiled. “But My Princess…!”

“Had you simply admitted an egregious error in judgment and apologized to Private Flight, I would have let it pass with nothing more than formal censure. But as you have failed utterly to do so in the face of all evidence, you no longer have my confidence, general. Submit your resignation, and I would allow you to retire with full pension and rank in recognition of your many years of service and the battles you have fought,” she offered far too generously in my view, then leaned in close, staring at him through narrowed eyes.

“Fail to do so, and I will summarily dismiss you, ordering a very public inquiry into your actions… both past and present,” she added ominously.

Squall Line’s wings and shoulders slumped. “Then... as I have no wish to drag my family through such turbulent skies and cannot, in good conscience, accept the presence of Miss Flight as anything less than a severe security risk… I will do as you ask, My Princess.” He sat back hard in his chair, defeated. “But mark my words, she will turn on us. We will regret her presence in the Corps!”

“Consider them marked,” the Princess said coldly. “Now remove yourself from this office, General, before I have you thrown out.”

A Hero’s Welcome

The Princess was nothing if not gracious and true to her word.

As an apology for all I had been through, she ordered that a very large and public awards ceremony be held for me, in Canterlot’s grand courtyard beneath the castle. It was attended by thousands of troops and nobles, including a mixed Guardspony company and pegasus battalion from the Aerial Corps’ first division, plus an Army regiment from Stalliongrad for good measure, all dressed in formal attire. They’d even pulled a naval airship out of mothballs for the occasion; the EAS Alliance was parked overhead, its unicorn and pegasus crew lining the railing and attired in their own dress whites. And presiding over the affair was the Princess herself, along with the new Corps Commander, General Fairweather. My family and the ponies I’d saved were also there as guests of honor, all beaming with happiness and pride.

The newly promoted general, Sirocco, the Princess herself and even one of the mares I’d rescued gave speeches recounting my deeds and extolling me, but ’twas not they who stepped forward when the time came. For there was but one pony I would accept an award from; the one pony who had made me what I was and been there for me every step of the way…

The one pony without whom I could never have accomplished what I did.

“Private Fell Flight!” Lieutenant Thunderbolt stood tall as he began speaking into a blue command crystal that amplified his voice throughout the field, dressed in his formal officer’s attire along with the rest. “The Aerial Corps Sapphire Sentinel is rarely given. ’Tis the highest award for heroism a Corps soldier can receive short of the Defender of Harmony medal itself. ’Tis only granted for acts of singular daring and valor, in defense of Equestrian lives.

“May it now be known that through courage and cunning, alone and armed with nothing more than your wits and the wings on your back, you crossed into Gryphon territory and pursued a superior raider force who had kidnapped three pony families for ransom or worse, single-hoofedly ambushing and defeating their captors, slaying twelve and driving off the rest!” He paused to let my feat sink in again. “And yet, ’tis not the enemy lives you took for which this honor is given, but the civilian lives you saved, both then and in the future. For in the end, you not only rescued a dozen ponies, but by besting the raider master in single combat, you ensured neither he nor his group would ever threaten innocent lives again.

“Your commitment to duty, indomitable will, courage and combat prowess in the face of impossible odds is an inspiration, and one to which all soldiers should aspire!” his magically-enhanced voice boomed as he affixed the wingblade-and-shield inscribed sapphire medal hanging from a white-and-blue ribbon to my chest, its faceted face gleaming blue in the sun—and how appropriate ’twas made from the same type of crystal as my eyes! “And for taking not just the worst of the gryphons but of your fellow ponies, fighting petty prejudice and enduring endless abuse, you have more than earned this as well…” He next removed my private’s insignia and replaced them with the three upright-V stripes of an Aerial Corps Sergeant, the silver metal gleaming bright against the backdrop of my dark blue dress uniform.

With that, he stood back and saluted me, signaling the assembled troops to do the same. “You sought acceptance above all else? You have it! We can now see your quality as clearly as your eyes can see in the dark. So step forth into the light! Stand proud and be recognized as one of Equestria’s premiere soldiers… Sergeant Fell Flight!”

The cheers and hoofstomps that followed were thunderous, as was the salute the airship fired from its ballistae overhead. I watched my mother break down and cry as I returned the salute, and seeing her happiness, I could no longer keep the tears of joy from rolling down my own cheeks.

I was a soldier. I was a hero.

For the first time in my life, I belonged.

When Legends Meet

’Twas the greatest day of my life, one I remember fondly even now in the face of so many other battles and award ceremonies to come.

I returned to Outpost Omega after a two-week leave, at my own request. ’Tis certain I could have requested to be transferred somewhere safer, and certainly my family had made known their wishes that I would ask to be. But I was a soldier, and I knew the point of greatest danger was where I belonged. Many changes happened in the wake of my battle and Squall Line’s dismissal, not the least of which was Sirocco’s promotion to First Lieutenant. She was named executive officer of the Fifth Division, and one of her first orders was to transfer then-Sky Sergeant Windshear from Alpha to Omega, giving our toughest command to one of the toughest soldiers and best senior NCOs we had. He had the base whipped into shape quickly, and raids soon all but ended for it…

Save for one major incident whose story is best saved for another time; an attack that would result in the first Defender of Harmony medal awarded in twenty years.

I could tell tales of other battles and additional commendations I would receive over the next five years, but ’tis not important except to say that I solidified my reputation as a fine soldier and warrior, never shirking from my duty or a fight. Before long I was even promoted to Flight Sergeant and within a year I was named Windshear’s training officer, later moved up to operations officer and eventually named second-in-command for his eventual replacement when he left to train new Royal Guard recruits at Fort Spur. My battle prowess did not go unnoticed among the gryphon gangs either—“beware the bat-eyed mare who sees and slays all!” at least one recovered scroll said under a crude picture of me, and I hung it over my office desk next to my Sapphire Sentinel citation.

I tried not to forget my family, returning home for holidays and other occasions when I could; I also took pains to visit Thunderbolt and Topsail regularly, noting how fortunate I was to have not one, but two superb stallions in my life. They kept me grounded, always there when I needed, reminding me of what I fought for. At one point, Thunderbolt mentioned a young filly he’d trained who had been born with a single working eye; his tale of how she’d become the best flier of her class impressed me, as did the news that she, too, had an interest in the Corps. Perchance I should have realized then I’d meet that mare myself one day, and become the best of friends with her as well as sisters-in-arms.

Unwounded in a score of separate engagements where I had racked up a lengthy list of kills and commendations, reaching the rank of Sergeant First Class in what was then-record time, perchance I did get a bit arrogant, believing myself the best we had short of Windshear himself. But all that would change one winter night when we got an emergency transfer notice to outpost Epsilon. We were ordered by Sirocco to send three squads immediately after the backwater base had suffered a sneak attack, whilst Gamma shifted an equal number of troops to Omega to cover our departure.

I can’t say I was impressed as I disembarked from a naval transport and introduced myself to the acting Epsilon commander, a wiry-looking Armored Guardspony mare bearing the three stripes of a Sergeant. I’d heard of her, of course, but thought little of it; having served under Windshear and seen him fight, the rumors that she’d bested him were simply too ridiculous to believe. ’Twas certain to me that she was little more than a token mare in the Guard, and that the only reason they would have sent her here instead of a more dangerous posting was to keep her safe.

In any event, Armored Guardspony or no, I outranked her, and thus I ordered her to cede command to me. She refused, her one-eyed aide quoting Corps protocols on me, to my great annoyance. “So I am to take orders from some guardsmare who has yet to see actual combat?!” I scoffed to murmurs of agreement from my fellow veterans. “’Tis an insult and an outrage!”

The only immediate response from the armored mare was a raised eyeridge. “Sergeant Flight, I highly suggest you mind your tongue.”

“And why, pray tell, should I?” I shot back, then proceeded to get in her face and recite my service record. “I have served in the Corps for six years. I have fought gryphons many a time, and lived to tell the tale with nary a scratch on my body,” I informed her, but she remained infuriatingly unimpressed. “I am a highly decorated Wing Warrior with command experience, and I will not take orders from some hatchling of a guardsmare who is two ranks my junior!” I warned her, giving my most intimidating cat-eyed glare.

My temper rose further as I saw the barest hint of a sly smile break her lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Sergeant Flight. Now, either you acknowledge me as your commanding officer until Lieutenant Sundiver recovers, and I forget that charming little repartee… or you continue making a foal of yourself and I put you in your richly-deserved place,” she said as if she was quoting somepony.

“Put me in my place?” Despite my blue lenses, methinks I was now seeing quite red, stepping up until we were nose-to-nose. “And what arrogance leads a waif like you to presume to place me anywhere…?!”

* * * * *

My then-future Captain has already described how effectively and easily she dealt with me. To be certain, ’twas a great shock to me, being the first time since entering the Corps that I had been bested so soundly. I learned quickly that her looks were deceiving; that despite her smaller frame, she was both as strong as any earth pony yet simultaneously the superior of any pegasus in flight. The one time I mentioned her unnatural strength, she mused that ’twas possible she had earth pony blood. But there was no way to know as being an orphan, she had never known her parents.

Upon hearing that, I found myself guiltily reflecting that I’d had the support of my parents and an entire herd growing up, yet had thought myself cursed for having a pair of cat eyes. But here was a mare who had no such support; despite this, she had found friendship and viewed life optimistically, never losing sight of what—and who—was important to her. Hearing her story, I resolved anew to keep in touch with my family and loved ones…

For ’tis true what has been said in these pages repeatedly: that knowing who and what you fight for makes all the difference to a soldier.

Author's Note

A double-length chapter for your enjoyment, showing the Rise of the Batmare! :rainbowdetermined2:

Sorry, couldn’t resist. :rainbowlaugh: Fell Flight’s badassery will be a tough act to follow, but be assured Swift Strike will give her a run when it’s his turn to have his story told. Speaking of him, I’m retconning the story to make him from Trottingham and giving him an English accent, since I kind of think of him as a British/SAS type.

In a change of chapter order, I have moved Blindside’s interlude to just after her first appearance. The two current bonus chapters might also be made appendices eventually. Be assured that major story events hinted at here, both Thunderbolt’s blackest day and Windshear’s heroic stand, will be told in due course. Perspective will shift back to Firefly after this, where it will be time to see Wind Whistler off to basic training... and meet a newly graduated Sky Sentry, who very much intends to collect on Firefly’s promise! :pinkiegasp: And of course, gryphon preparations will be proceeding apace. Wait another five chapters or so, and the invasion of Equestria begins... and when it happens, I will even be making maps to show the battles and progress of the campaign.

Thanks to AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, TheGoldCrow and Denim_Blue for the prereads and all the google doc comments. They had a great deal of fun with the references in here, as did I.

This will be it for Rise of Firefly for a bit while I work on completing its parent story, The Lawyer and The Unicorn. But fear not... this story is not and will never be forgotten.

Part 15 - Sentry of the Sky

Though true motherhood was years away for me, that didn’t stop me from becoming a mother figure to many.

Indeed, one lesson of motherhood I had to learn long before I became one was there came a time you couldn’t protect your loved ones any longer, when you had to let them fly or fall by the strength of their own wings. Such was the case for Wind Whistler, and watching her enter basic was an agony almost too much to bear, knowing what awaited her. Doubly so for the fact she was doing it all for me.

I loved her for it, but ’twas still very hard to let go, and keeping myself from not interfering in her training or future career was one of the hardest things I’ve done. But at the same time, I truly did want her at my side again, and the only way she could was for her to undergo the same hardship and ordeals I had.

Yet before that could happen, there was one other matter that demanded attention; a pony to whom I’d made a half-jested promise who was now looking to collect. A pony I look back on fondly, a future Bolt Knight whose name and deeds are now carved into a granite monument at Fort Spur. A pony that would, in time, prove one old adage beyond all doubt…

That it is not how we die that defines us, but how we live. And as I first learned then, he loved life and lived it freely and fully, in time teaching me to do the same.

Return to Spur

By early April, I was starting to wonder whether the real milestones in my life were not my birthdays or battles, but my visits to Fort Spur.

Six months there for basic had forged me into a soldier. The visit over Hearth’s Warming and the talk with Windshear had set me firmly on the path to being a commander and warrior. And this time…?

Now I was once again returning a changed mare, with a border base and battalion of soldiers I was responsible for, to say nothing of a young gryphon I had become a surrogate parent to. I had to chuckle to myself at that—my feelings towards him were, if anything, motherly, given I was now fretting over leaving him and hoped for the chance to show off some of his artwork. I knew he’d be safe with Fell Flight, Swift Strike and the Celestial Guardsponies there protecting him, but that didn’t keep me from worrying.

Then again, maybe worrying about him would keep me from worrying too much about Wind Whistler. Was she ready? Had she trained?

To my surprise, as the small naval transport docked and I disembarked, I found an honor guard waiting for me comprised of all the base training and administrative staff, Sergeant Major Windshear in front and Lieutenant Ironsides himself calling the formation to attention.

“Present… ARMS!” he called out as I stepped off the carriage, not dropping the salute until I returned it, cueing the assembled clerks and instructors to do the same. “Welcome back… Sergeant First Class Firefly!” he greeted me, taking obvious pains to say my full rank, two stripes above the ones I’d originally left with. “Perchance you wouldst forgive the pomp and circumstance, but ’tis not often a recent graduate returns so esteemed in such a short time.”

“Thank you, sir,” I saluted him myself this time, as was his due as both officer and base commander. “’Tis certain I was not expecting such a welcome,” I told him gratefully, genuinely touched by the gesture.

A rare smile cracked his face. “Methinks you’ve become quite a source of pride here, Sergeant,” he told me, returning the salute. “As word of your exploits have spread, we’ve now got more recruits than we know what to do with… both stallions and mares.” He arched an eyeridge at me. “And many existing Guardsponies are now requesting assignment to combat posts. We’re having a hard time accommodating them all.”

I blinked at that. “Oh?”

“’Tis true,” Windshear spoke next, quickly receiving my salute in turn. “’Twould seem you’ve captured the hearts and imaginations of many ponies, Sergeant, both in the Guard and out. Many now seek to follow in your wingbeats.” There was real pride in his voice, and why shouldn’t there be? I was his protege in all but name, and ’twould be a lie to say that I did not look upon him as my surrogate father. “No less than eight mares are entering the next class, and they’re not all pegasi.”

I wasn’t sure if I liked that idea or not, given I would not wish some of my experiences on my worst enemies, let alone my best friend and sister. “I have come for one such mare in particular.” I informed them, slightly needlessly. My purpose in visiting had been part of my orders, and given military obsession with having everything in triplicate, they’d most certainly received a copy as well. “My friend and sister.”

“Indeed,” Lieutenant Ironsides nodded gravely, the gruff and massive earth pony betraying at least one small moment of softness. “I do not envy your task, but I will leave the question of her training between you and Sergeant Major Windshear.” He nodded to his left, where my mentor had gone stone-faced. “In the meantime you are granted full flight of the base, and you are more than welcome to stay for the first day of basic if you wish.”

“I thank you for your consideration, sir,” I saluted him again, bowing my head in gratitude. “But methinks for now, I would like some time to speak with the Sergeant Major…?”

* * * * *

The flight back to Windshear’s office was spent in silence, both of us trying to determine what we were going to say. We made some small talk to start—he wanted to know whether some of the stories he’d heard were true, like had I really befriended a gryphon teen? Yes, I told him, showing him his artwork and inviting him to visit sometime and meet him for himself—and then shared some tea before getting down to business.

He was characteristically blunt, cutting me off before I could begin my own carefully rehearsed speech.

“Sergeant… before you begin, I must warn you that I’m not about to give any recruit special or favorable treatment, no matter who they are—not even the adoptive sister of my most prized graduate,” he warned me, his tone gentle but firm. “The Guard has standards, and if we start watering them down for friends or relatives, before long we would start doing it for everypony… and thus lose our edge and that very thing which makes us Guardsponies. You of all ponies should know that training from Tartarus is the price that must be paid to reach our levels of ability, and not everypony is capable of them. Fewer than one in three, in fact, even after careful screening of recruit candidates. I do not know if your friend is one of them, but be assured I will, in the end, treat her no differently than I did you.”

I closed my eyes and nodded. To have him state his position so firmly was actually a relief of sorts, alleviating the guilt I would inevitably feel over not being able to convince him otherwise. Then again, ’twas certain I knew he was right, and I had no intention of asking him to go easy on her. “Quite the contrary, sir,” I told him, going downcast for a moment. “’Tis the truth that in fact, I wanted to make sure you didn’t go easy on her,” I told him, raising my gaze back to meet his, letting him see the pain in my eyes at the admission. “I do not want her to have to face what I did unless she is well and truly equal to it. I would spare her the pain of death and killing I felt if I could, and… ’tis certain that part of me hopes she does not make it through,” I admitted, feeling tears well in my eyes despite myself.

The Sergeant Major looked taken aback for a moment, then reached out to grasp my hoof, considering carefully what to say. “Methinks you can be forgiven. Have I ever mentioned that I have two daughters in the Corps, and a son who wishes to join the Guard?” he gave me a wan smile. “’Twas certain I tried to discourage them as well, but they were determined to follow in their father’s wingbeats and do their duty to Equestria. And if my recently herded son sires a son of his own, ’tis certain to be one of the worst moments of my life when I watch him walk through these gates.” He shook his head. “I would not wish what I have experienced on any of them either, but at the same time, ’tis not my place to deny it. ’Tis their lives, and if they wish to offer them up for Equestria, ’tis their right to do so. And methinks that holds true whether we are talking about my own beloved foals, or your best friend and sister.”

I gave a sigh. I knew he was right, but that didn’t make this any easier. “Then in the end, all I would ask, Sergeant Major… is that you wouldst treat her no differently than you didst me, and perchance you wouldst be willing to give occasional updates on her progress?” I offered cautiously.

He looked at me and nodded slowly. “Methinks that can be arranged. Just don’t expect a letter right away. ’Twould take me some time to get a sense of her and whether she’s Armored Guardspony material or not. In the meantime, ’tis certain I will try my hardest to wash her out, as I do all recruits,” he told me point-blank. “Do you know the Guardspony trainer credo, Sergeant? ’Tis that we either break our recruits… or make them unbreakable.”

“I see…” I didn’t quite know what else to say at that moment. Somehow, ‘thank you’ didn’t quite seem appropriate for a drill instructor who was promising to put my best friend and sister through the same Tartarus he had me and then some.

My brooding thoughts were interrupted by another pointed question. “Tell me, Firefly… do you think she can make it through?” The Sergeant Major addressed me by name as he often did when he was being grave, watching my reaction carefully.

I considered the question, then slumped. “I… don’t know, sir. ’Tis certain the version of her I saw over the winter holidays could not, but her mother has been training her in the meantime.”

He arched an eyeridge. “And who is her mother?”

His eyes widened when I spoke Silent Night’s name. “I had no idea…” I had the distinct pleasure of seeing the Sergeant Major caught off guard for once. “I worked with her Black Lance team once, at Outpost Omega. She was… good. Very good,” his expression turned brooding for a moment and he glanced at the Red Talon trophies on his wall. “Well, then. If she is her mother’s daughter, ’tis certain she has it in her. The question is, can it be brought out in just the three months she had to train her?”

I wasn’t sure myself, but I feared the worst—I’d trained for years to join the Guard, and still barely made it through. Then again, ’twas certain I never had an instructor of her quality, either. “Methinks I have no answer, sir. At least, not until I see her.”

“Then perchance ’tis time you do so, Sergeant.” His grin turned wry. “Perchance you should spend as much time as possible with her over the next three days. Because once Friday arrives and those gates close behind her, it may be many months before you see her again.”

“I believe I will, sir,” I agreed, getting up to leave. “Thank you for your time and indulgence, Sergeant Major.” I gave him a salute.

“Anytime, Sergeant,” he rejoined, returning my respect with a salute of his own. “Oh, but before I forget…” He caught me just as I flared my wings to leave, intending to depart out his large open window.

“Sir?” I looked back.

“Methinks there’s one other thing you should know.” The look on his face had turned amused. “Nothing air-shaking, but be warned that Sky Sentry did indeed graduate a Corporal. You were his motivation throughout training; he pushed himself very hard and he’s now quite good. In the end, he was able to take every trainer short of me, and I didn’t beat him by much. He more than earned his armor and rank, and ’tis quite certain he will now be looking to collect on your promise…” his voice trailed off as he gave me an askance and even suggestive look.

I blushed hard. “’Tis hardly the time, sir,” I told him, realizing I just picked up another complication for the visit, one I definitely didn’t need.

His amusement only grew at that. “Perchance not. But methinks you can’t put off dealing with him indefinitely, Sergeant. And ‘tis certain he does know you’re here, given the news reports regarding the entry of your sister into the Guard. So expect him to find you before he leaves on his first assignment.”

I grimaced. It wasn’t that I didn’t find him a promising soldier or didn’t think I could take him, it was that I really didn’t want to deal with him right then. “I’ll be ready sir,” I promised him, thinking that if it came to a duel, I could at least show the now-former Recruit Jester how much better he had yet to get.

A Path Retraced

The last time I took the long walk to the base gates, I’d been departing in pain and humiliation from my defeat at the hooves of the Sergeant Major. Unlike that time, I could have flown, but perchance I just wanted to walk in my own hoofsteps there again, remembering what I’d been through…

And reminding myself what Wind Whistler might shortly be going through.

The last two times I exited the base, I had found Wind Whistler there, ready with a comforting hug and sorely-needed shoulder to cry on. I loved her for it, and what now hurt me most of all was knowing that she would likely need one herself during her low points of training, but be unable to have it.

She was indeed waiting for me again as I passed the gates, Silent Night at her side. But whatever fears she was feeling, she kept them well-hidden. “Welcome home, my sister.” She embraced me as her mother watched, smiling. We held the hug for the better part of half a minute before I finally broke it.

“’Tis good to see you, dear sister. And you too… Mother,” I hugged Silent Night next, thinking of how strange the word sounded to my ears. I’d tried hard to get in the habit of calling her that whilst on leave over the winter holidays, but ’twas still a difficult thing to get used to.

“Greetings, Daughter.” She returned the embrace, then stood back to size me up. “I see the weight of additional battles and burden of command in your eyes now. You bear them well,” she offered.

“Thanks in large part to you,” I bowed my head, then turned to Wind Whistler, who stood tall before me, offering herself up for inspection.

She was definitely different than the last time I saw her, and not just because of her close-cropped mane—apparently her mother had insisted on being as military as possible during their training. Over the previous three months she had lost most of her fat and gotten far more trim; she looked like an athlete if anything now. Her eyes were tired, but I daresay resolute; I could tell from long experience with her that whatever her mother had put her through, she had not wavered in her determination to join the Guard.

’Twas both heartening and frightening to me that she was ready and willing to do this, and quite soon. “You’ve changed, my friend,” I told her with a glance at Silent Night. “You are looking far more a soldier than you were.”

“She’s ready, Firefly,” Silent Night proclaimed in no small amount of pride, putting her wing over her daughter. “I gave her a modified Black Lance basic training program; some of the same regimens I got at Coltanado. Had her up at 5am every morning for conditioning work and weapons drills. Lunch, then actual combat training, including plenty of sparring and grappling. ’Twas hard for her at first, but she persevered, and methinks she can now take whatever Armored Guard basic can throw at her. Feel free to test her yourself if you don’t believe me,” she offered with a sly grin.

I gained one of my own. “Perchance I will… but first, may we catch up over dinner?” I suggested. “Oh, and… is father here?” I looked around hopefully.

Wind Whistler shook her head. “He’s on maneuvers at Stalliongrad, my sister. ’Twould seem he convinced his superiors to hold an actual exercise. He does send his regards, though. He asked me to tell you that perchance he will ‘show up at Epsilon with his entire battle group when you least expect it’ so he can visit you properly.”

I had a stifle a laugh at that—not just one, but three naval airships showing up unannounced on my doorstep? “Tell him that the thought is appreciated. And that I would pay many bits to actually see that happen.” The Navy being mobile AND useful? THAT would be the day… I didn’t say as we headed off to their house, where Silent Night had prepared a room for my stay.

* * * * *

Dinner was, once again, quite succulent.

Silent Night’s cooking skills were the equal of her combat ones, and she served up another magnificent feast. I told her she was spoiling me for canteen food at Epsilon, and she replied that “If you think base food is bad, try the Lances’ field rations or having to eat purloined gryphon food in enemy territory.” She stuck out her tongue. “Their scones are so tough as to be nearly inedible, and they like putting meat in everything.”

“Methinks I can imagine.” I reacted less badly to that now than I would have before seeing Gavian eat his fish… and Fell Flight occasionally joining him! I’d heard somewhere that thestrals had a predatory streak of their own and could eat meat, but I hadn’t asked her about it. To each their own, but certainly I would never try such a thing myself! “’Tis hard to procure the meals our young gryphon friend needs for it.”

They both looked up at my words. “So ’tis true what the news scrolls say, then? That you have adopted a young gryphon colt?” Silent Night asked, somewhat skeptically.

“Methinks that ‘adopted’ might be too strong a term, but… yes!” I grinned, going on to swiftly relate the story, starting from his presence in the first raid to his return to Epsilon by the EIS. They listened intently and were very impressed by what they heard, doubly so when I showed them some of his works.

“A gryphon artist…” Silent Night shook her head in wonder as she examined his drawings. He’d gotten steadily better with quill and paint since he’d started practicing with them; ’twas still slightly wondrous to me to see him hold a brush or quill in his talons and move them so precisely. “I would never have believed ’twas even possible, let alone befriending one of them.”

“Aye,” I replied, feeling another moment of parental pride. “’Twould seem gryphon honor is real. After we saved him from the Ravens, he wanted to help us and told us everything he could. His information averted an all-out attack on Equestria, and as a reward Celestia not only granted him citizenship but obtained for him all the art supplies he could ever ask for. ’Tis not just that, though—we are now schooling him in everything from the Equestrian language to self-defense so he may yet fully live his life, and ’tis well earned. We enjoy a time of peace now thanks to him.”

“Truly?” Silent Night shook her head again in amazement. “I might like to meet him, if he will spare us further raids, both theirs and ours.”

“Perchance that could be arranged. And ’twould seem he will, as the border is very quiet now,” I assured them. “Celestia laid down the law with them, and it worked—she proved she could lay their armies waste if she wished, and after seeing her power they have evacuated their forward bases and bulk of their forces from the continent, perchance never to return.”

I sensed the lie of my own statement as soon as I said it, yet still had no idea how wishful that thinking truly was.

The War to Come

It had been scarcely two weeks since our fateful meeting with the empress, and yet already, the former-Consul-turned-Prelate’s new plans were in motion.

The military bases and magic labs all around the Empire were abuzz with activity. Whilst I and my fellow Talaeus helped train our recently returned forces for the battles to come, rebuilding the mock-ups of Equestrian towns and outposts we’d had to abandon on their continent, the Imperial Magi were particularly busy with experimental spells being tested and magic theory being alternately proven and disproven as they tried to find ways to counter pony weather control, and perchance even Celestia herself.

Some of what they were trying were simply contingency plans. The mages in the south were experimenting to see if their wind, fire and ice spells could affect the weather, the idea being to try to find a way to mitigate the damage from a superstorm strike like the one that destroyed Raptor Base. From what little I’d heard, they were not having much success, as the storms that haunted the southern plains in early spring proved much too large and powerful for a single mage or even a dozen of them to truly affect. The best they’d been able to report was that there was some suggestion they could at least slightly weaken them by cooling the cloud base, and they’d made at least one surprising discovery—that they could somewhat increase a storm’s severity; the rate of lightning, wind, hail and rainfall generated by adding more ice to their upper reaches.

Their efforts were appreciated by the Prelate, who noted to me with no little satisfaction that perchance we would be able to make use of naturally occurring storms and weather patterns in the war to come. ’Twould be turning nature itself into an instrument of the Empire as opposed to the unnatural and artificial weather the ponies used, thus turning their own greatest strength against them. Along those lines, he’d also ordered the development of a new magical attack inspired by Celestia herself.

“Twould be rather fitting if we could make her rue her own display,” I told the Prelate when he’d outlined the idea to me, sending more mages to work on it. I had not seen their progress yet, but they’d reported that what the Prelate asked was possible, but control of such a phenomenon with wind and fire spells was proving very difficult at best and might be just as dangerous to us as the Equestrians.

’Twas only a secondary effort, however. Their main focus was trying to see if Magus Knights working in tandem could mass their power to counter Celestia. Results were not particularly promising there either, as synchronizing their spells proved very difficult and it might well take the entire Magus legion to add up to an alicorn princess’ power. Then again, if the Prelate’s grandest design came to pass, ’twould not be necessary.

Military activity was not the only thing happening. The Imperial Diplomats were also quite busy as we were already feteing some unlikely representatives of normally hostile or at least neutral races, laying the groundwork for what we would need from them. Some were easily bought off, others were not, but the Prelate and the Empire we served were nothing if not persistent. Treaties would be hashed out in due time, prices for aid would be agreed on, and ’twas increasingly certain we would have the invasion routes and improved weaponry necessary to surprise the ponies when the time came.

But invasion routes were only one of the things we needed. “I have a task for you, my friend,” the Prelate told me one night after dinner where we had entertained our latest guests. “A very difficult and dangerous one; one ’tis quite possible you will not survive.” His eyes betrayed a bare moment of worry for me.

I had been part of that entertainment, defeating the head of the Minotaur ambassador’s personal guard in single combat to his great surprise. His bipedal form was unfamiliar, but easily overcome; in the end, he’d fallen quickly to my strength and speed, surrendering when I’d forced back his blade against his own throat. I had not hurt him, of course—’twould hardly do to potentially alienate our guests like that—but respect was won, and honor offered for it; negotiations had proceeded apace after that. “I am ready to serve you and the Empire however I may, sir,” I replied, baring my throat and making a fist with my right talons before pounding them into my left shoulder.

“And it does both me and the Empress great honor, Tribune Kaval,” he returned the salute. “In short, I require you to leave your training tasks behind and travel far to the east.”

’Twas then I knew what he was about to ask, and ’twould be a lie to say the thought did not send a chill of fear through me. I had faced but one of their kind before and barely won; now I was being asked to journey to their very homelands and propose an alliance they were, at best, unlikely to grant. “We will not send you there unprepared or with nothing to offer. Study these materials well,” he admonished me, passing me a storage gem and a series of attached scrolls, including one signed by the Empress herself. “In these should be your orders and everything you need. You know my plan, and thus you know what we need from them.

“But I would not lie to you, my friend. There is no guarantee of success and what I am asking of you I would ask of no other but our finest warrior. Like us, they respect strength, and you are the strongest we have.”

“You honor me, sir,” I told him, baring my throat and saluting him a second time. “I will study tonight, and leave tomorrow morning, at first light…”

The first two days I had with Wind Whistler went far too quickly.

I did indeed test her, and found her far better than before, just as her mother had promised. She couldn’t beat me in a spar, but she held her own surprisingly well, not just for the well-toned physique she had gained, but for simply knowing me and how I fought. I surprised her a couple times with new techniques I’d learned from Swift Strike and Stormrunner, but she always adjusted quickly; in truth she was now even better than me at reading attacks and an opponent’s intent. All that she was really lacking was the requisite speed and seasoning, but should she gain them, she would become a dangerous fighter indeed.

I did not drill her too hard, not wanting to potentially tire or injure her a mere day or two before she started basic, but I did satisfy myself that her mother had been good to her word and my adoptive sister was indeed ready for what she faced. When I remarked as much to Silent Night, she told me to pay a visit to the Black Lance training grounds at Coltanado someday. “Ask Swift Strike about what we went through,” she told me with a grin, giving me a letter for him. “You wouldst forgive me a moment of boasting, but ’tis certain neither the Guard nor the Corps has anything on us.”

“Did you volunteer for the Lances?” I asked her, curious as I stayed up late with her the second night of my stay, sharing our fears and worries over Wind Whistler, who we’d sent to bed early in hopes she would be well rested for her entry into basic.

“Nay,” she shook her head. “They came to me. I was recruited by veteran members, who look for… certain qualities. If they want you, they will recruit you themselves.”

“Or else?” I teased lightly.

She shook her head and chuckled. “Hardly. We have had ponies turn us down before. One of them was your own Fell Flight.” She arched an eyeridge at me. “After her daring rescue of captured ponies in gryphon territory, I personally asked her to join, as her night vision, advanced combat ability and sheer determination would make her an excellent asset. She turned me down flat,” Silent Night chuckled, sipping her cider.

I blinked. “’Tis the first I have heard of this. She never mentioned that to me before. Why did she say no?” I had to know.

Silent Night stared off into the deepening dusk, remembering. “Her reason was simple: that given her thestral blood, for her to join the Lances would only deepen the stereotypes of thestrals as untrustworthy and secretive creatures of shadow, and she did not want that. Her exact words to me were: ‘If me and my kin are to be truly accepted, we must step into the light, not fight in the dark. I have had to work hard for my acceptance in the Corps, and I would not do anything that would jeopardize it. I will serve freely and openly, not as an assassin from the shadows!’” She affected my second’s voice as she spoke.

I chuckled at that. “Methinks that sounds like her,” I granted. “She is a fine soldier and second, and one I have no qualms about leaving in charge in my absence. And ’tis certain she has her wish now. She is greatly respected amongst the rank-and-file, and I would have had a far more difficult time assuming command without her.”

“’Tis certain she’s a superb soldier, Firefly, and one you should be very happy to have,” my adoptive mother agreed. “Ask her to tell you about her eye operation sometime and the struggles she had getting the Corps to do it. From all reports, ’tis quite a story.” She refilled my glass.

“I shall,” I promised, and we polished off the entire small keg of cider we were sharing before heading to bed ourselves.

Sky Sentry

We took it easy the final full day before basic.

We visited our old haunts much as we’d done over the winter holidays, though I found myself a little surprised and uncertain over the attention I was garnering. ’Twould seem everypony in town now knew me and wanted to talk to me or bump hooves, and flattered though I was, ’twas starting to get a bit annoying.

Perchance ’twas inevitable, then, that we ended up spending our final evening at the Aching Drum, where I was the toast of the patrons, the bar giving everyone a free drink in my honor. I accepted their accolades as graciously as I could, but did request some space, pointing out that I wanted to spend as much time with Wind Whistler as possible before the next day.

They left us alone after that, though I did have to put down one half-drunk pegasus mare; a former and failed Corps trainee who wanted to know how much flank I’d offered to Captain Typhoon to get my post and rank. But a year earlier I might have lost my temper at such an ugly insinuation, but now my only response was an arched eyeridge and a polite request to leave me and my sister alone. ’Twas only when she called me ‘orphan trash’ and Wind Whistler a ‘naval brat’ that I formally challenged her, and subsequently knocked her out with a single blow to the appreciative hoofstomps of the other patrons.

She was easy. The next challenge to follow was decidedly not as a Guardspony pegasus stallion strode in wearing a brand new day uniform and corporal stripes. He was accompanied by several other recent graduates, though there wasn’t anything hostile about their manner. I’d met their leader once before, though he was almost unrecognizable now in his uniform and grey fur dye; ’twas only from his rank insignia, general build and Windshear’s warning that I knew instantly who he must be.

“Corporal Sky Sentry,” I acknowledged, returning the salutes offered me. As I wasn’t technically on leave but a ‘fact-finding tour’ according to my orders (clearly, Captain Typhoon was not without a sense of humor!), I was still on duty and wearing my own day uniform, but not my armor.

“Sergeant First Class Firefly.” He grinned, sizing me up. “With respect, methinks you know why I’m here, ma’am,” he told me as Wind Whistler looked back and forth between us in some confusion.

“You know him?” she asked me.

“We’ve… met,” I granted, somewhat warily. “Though I would hope he would understand that with my sister about to enter basic, I wish to spend as much time with her as I can and prefer not to be interrupted.” My arched eyeridge made clear I did not want to deal with him right then, though I didn’t make his dismissal an order.

“And for that, you have my most fervent apologies, Miss Wind Whistler.” He made a sweeping bow before her like she was royalty as she watched him, bemused. “But I’ve already stayed away for two days and can wait no longer. I’m afraid that as I’m leaving on my first assignment tomorrow, if it doesn’t happen now, it doesn’t happen.”

“If what doesn’t happen?” Wind Whistler asked, to some snickers from the other graduates behind him, all lower-ranked pegasi.

“Methinks you should ask her,” one of them said, nodding to me. “With all due respect, ma’am, we were witnesses. And we all think he’s owed the chance to collect on your promise.”

I couldn’t quite keep the blush from my face, a fact not lost on Wind Whistler as she started to put the pieces together, staring at me in some surprise. I couldn’t blame her—I’d never shown interest in stallions or romantic relationships before. “I believe, Corporal, that I promised you ‘the slightest chance’. I did not say ’twas automatic!” I reminded him, feeling somewhat flustered as we’d now attracted the attention of the entire pub.

“So you did, ma’am,” he agreed easily, giving what little existed of his shorn mane a toss. “So you did. But… methinks I have a little proposition for you. A nice friendly challenge methinks you can guess the terms of.”

I rubbed my eyes with a hoof, sensing I wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. Let that be a lesson to keep my muzzle shut next time! “Methinks I could just order you to leave.” My words brought a series of boos and other disapproving noises from the gallery, who were starting to pick up on what was happening.

“Methinks you could, but you won’t.” His grin widened. “And not just because of your new fans or my ravishing good looks, ma’am…” he leaned in close, bearing his teeth in what was dangerously close to a disrespectful gesture to a superior, but the twinkle in his eyes somehow mitigated it. “But because you’ve never turned down a worthy challenge in your life, and you’re not about to start now. Because methinks you’re curious about how good I am, and because you want to show me how much better you are. So what say you, ma’am?”

That actually elicited a smile from me, given ‘twould seem he’d actually taken the time to learn a little about me. But not enough if he actually believed he could beat me! “Very well, Corporal. You win. I say yes! Care to step outside…?”

Duel in the Sky

The last time I faced a duel outside the Aching Drum, it’d been a three-on-one fight facing a trio of drunken Guardsponies who were trying to cut my career short before it had even begun. I’d had no qualms about facing them, knowing full well I could take them and that as inebriated as they were, they were no match for me.

But this time? I was facing a single but fully sober and very motivated opponent whose skill level was uncertain, but had to be quite good if he’d bested all the trainers short of the Sergeant Major himself. This time, the stakes were not my career, my rank, or even my reputation…

It was simple pride and potentially surrendering myself to a stallion for the first time in my life; a fact not lost on Wind Whistler as she asked me somewhat uncertainly for the story behind what was happening. Sky Sentry and his fellow graduates were more than happy to fill her and everypony else in, though they did exaggerate on a couple points—I had most certainly not left him in a state of full excitement that first day of basic, nor had I promised him I would perform any specific acts!

“I don’t know, ma’am… you did say he would have a chance to ‘tuck your tail’ if he made Corporal!” Private Corsair pointed out, to a series of whinnies and whistles from the large crowd watching.

“So I did…” I admitted, blushing again at Wind Whistler’s shocked look. “Then is that the official terms of this duel?” I asked, arching an eyeridge at Sky Sentry.

“No, ma’am,” he replied, baring his teeth in a grin again. “As it happens, I asked to be seconded to the Aerial Corps like you, and as a result I’ve been assigned to Outpost Delta for my first deployment—after a month of frontier training at Gamma, that is. If I win, I not only get you for all of tonight, but you put in to have me transferred… to Epsilon!” He now wore a look of eager anticipation as his friends and the civilian ponies around us whooped their approval.

I shook my head and chuckled. Methinks ‘brazen’ didn’t even begin to describe this stallion! “And your herd and foals would think… what of this, exactly?” I asked him pointedly.

To my surprise he gave a very nonchalant shrug. “I’m unattached, ma’am. I have a single colt born out of herdlock, now being taken care of by his mother’s new herd,” he admitted without shame, to some gasps from the crowd. “He’s six now, and for me, becoming a Guardspony was a matter of giving him pride in himself and a sire he could look up to… though methinks that I’d love for him to have a new herd mother he could as well.” He gave me a very cocky grin, one reminiscent of my own.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This stallion clearly had no shame, and ’twould be a lie to say I wasn’t taking a genuine liking to him for it. Just like me, he broke the rules and pushed the boundaries, and he did so quite gleefully. “First rutting, and now you’re already talking about putting me in your herd? Methinks you’re quite ambitious, Corporal!”

“Much like yourself, Ma’am,” he rejoined with a twinkle as he now faced me from across the courtyard, around which the spectators had formed a loose circle, some money already being exchanged for bets on the duel to come. “’Twould seem we have quite an audience now, so as you are the challenged party, ’tis your responsibility to state the rules and boundaries of our duel.”

“Very well, Corporal,” I replied, starting to think I might actually enjoy this. “Methinks we’ll make it simple then. We fight strictly in the air with a hard ceiling of three hundred feet, and the first one to exceed that altitude or touch ground loses. We cannot go past the boundaries of the town square, and touching trees and buildings counts as ground, and thus, an automatic loss. Agreed?” I asked. I knew I was giving away my ground strength and grappling advantage by doing that, but it mattered not—I still ruled the skies, and after besting everypony from Windshear to Stormrunner to elite Gryphon Ravens, there was nary a chance a new graduate who hadn’t done any of those could beat me in my element.

“Who am I to dispute the wishes of my superior?” he grinned and sketched me a salute, glancing at his six compatriots, who instantly took flight to station themselves around the periphery of our chosen battlefield, several placing clouds to mark the designated boundaries. They would be our witnesses and call any out-of-bounds or touching of the ground immediately, thus ending the duel. “The terms are agreeable. Miss Wind Whistler, wouldst you do the honors?” He nodded and bowed again to my friend and sister.

Wind Whistler still looked somewhat stunned at the turn of events, but also amused as she watched our banter unfold. “Methinks you have gained a suitor, sister,” she told me as she stepped between us, a tone in her voice and glimmer in her eyes suggesting that she would never let me live it down.

“’Twould seem you made him a promise, and one I must agree you owe him an opportunity to collect. And ’tis certain I would not wish to stand in his way,” she announced with a grin as she raised her hoof to signal the start of the bout and we both crouched, flaring our wings for a combat takeoff.

“Combatants… begin!” she made a sharp downward slashing motion with her hoof.

A cloud of dust erupted from beneath us as we both made a powerful downbeat with our wings, taking to the sky, trying to get higher quicker, so we could have the advantage of diving on each other. To my surprise, he equaled my initial altitude and reached the top of our duel arena just as fast as I did—even Stormrunner hadn’t been able to out-climb me!

“Not bad,” I granted as he stared at me triumphantly from his hover, crossing his forearms and smirking. “But let’s see how well you dive! Catch me if you can… Recruit Jester!”

He took the dig with a grin as his comrades laughed around us. “As my future commander wishes,” he grinned, then followed me as I dove hard for the deck again, barely eight feet off my tail.

I led him down the same obstacle course I did Shadowslash so many months earlier, trying to lose him in the trees and alleyways… or failing that, at least get him to brush up against a balcony, roof, or building, at which point his defeat would be called by his fellow graduates, who were watching the duel from the air.

But to my astonishment, despite his unfamiliarity with his surroundings, he dodged and weaved his way through the streets and alleyways effortlessly, even successfully evading the tree that had trapped Shadowslash, popping right over top of it and resuming his pursuit!

Oh, he was good. He was matching me maneuver for maneuver, and the thought that he actually might catch me was sending a definite thrill through me as I saw him slowly close the distance.

Well then. Perchance ’twas time to get serious! I put on a burst of speed and shot upwards, aiming for a low-hanging cloud, then used its underside as a springboard to reverse abruptly on him, diving hard. I saw his eyes widen and I truly thought I had him—I knew I had the advantage of position and enough momentum to knock the wind right out of him, or failing that, just disrupt his flight and enable me to loop back and strike the base of his wings, sending him plummeting. I didn’t expect that would endanger him—given our intense training, full-fledged Guardsponies couldn’t be crippled by such things—just stagger him, and enable me to throw him into a treetop.

But I’d underestimated him a second time as he dodged me by proving his own ability to climb quickly was no fluke. He shot over top of me with a single strong wingbeat, causing me to miss, and suddenly I had to evade as he spun hard and aimed a hoof for the base of my wings! He missed, but ’twas was a little closer than I would have liked as I veered hard left and then circled back around to face him, as he hovered before me wearing a smug expression again.

“You learned that trick from Windshear,” he tut-tutted me. “So did I. Afraid I’m not that easy, ma’am.”

I grinned back, starting to feel something I so rarely did in spars—exhilarated. This stallion had earned his stripes and then some! “Quite all right, Corporal. Neither am I!” This time I charged him directly, deciding that I’d bring my strength to bear in a close-quarters aerial grapple—something only Windshear had ever been able to match me in. He looked surprised as he guessed my intent, then to my surprise, he made no effort to evade, meeting me head on…

Quite literally as our heads collided, leaving us both seeing stars. We both staggered back briefly, our flights faltering for just a moment before our vision cleared, leaving us staring at each other. “Windshear…?” he asked me, pointing at the lump on his forehead.

“Windshear,” I confirmed, rubbing my own growing bruise, then we both started laughing along with the other hovering pegasi. “He said I had a really hard head.”

“Me too! He said he’d only ever met one pony with a thicker skull than mine… you!”

I laughed again as I shook my head sharply, fully clearing it. “Flattery gets you nowhere, Corporal.”

His cocky grin returned. “You know, he told me that, too!” he said, then ended our respite by making a sudden and very sharp, rolling pass at me, trying to keep me guessing where his blow would come. Now fully engaged in the duel, I countered instantly by spinning in the opposite direction—my own trick, not Windshear’s this time—completely throwing off whatever point he was aiming at.

Of course, I couldn’t easily land a good blow on him myself by doing that, but ’twasn’t my intention. Instead, I waited until he had rotated away and then shot off away from him when he wasn’t looking. Realizing he’d been duped, he righted himself instantly and somewhat frantically searched above him, expecting he’d find me diving on him… only to realize I was in fact under him when my hoof struck him hard from below, impacting his vulnerable midsection.

“OOF!” I heard the very wind knocked out of him and immediately pressed my advantage, flipping his hind hooves over his head and then bodily tossing him towards the ground. ’Twas certain my blow would have been enough to win any other fight, and in fact had in previous duels, but to my surprise he righted himself halfway down and broke his fall with his wings, trying to regain his bearings despite his pain and lack of air. Though impressed anew by his stamina and sheer determination, he was still staggered and I wasn’t about to let him regain his senses, ending the match by tackling him from behind and driving him into the ground belly first. He made one weak attempt to roll but I wasn’t having it, making sure he hit before me.

There was silence around us as the dust from our impact cleared, me holding him in position to show how we’d landed. When the onlookers could see, there was a thunderous round of hoofstomps and his comrades declared me the victor.

To his credit, he graciously conceded. “You win, ma’am,” he got up somewhat shakily and saluted me. “Thank you for the chance, at least. ’Twas an excellent maneuver and one hay of a way to trick me. I’ll remember it next time!” He flashed his cocky grin again despite his pain.

I favored him with my own as I returned the salute. “You’re a strong and superb new Guardspony, Sky Sentry. ’Tis certain you earned your stripes,” I told him, and very much meant it—there were few veteran Guardsponies who could hold their own against me, let alone a fresh graduate! “You may not have earned the right to rut me, but be assured you have earned my respect.” I bowed my head fractionally to him.

He chuckled at that. “’Twas certain I was hoping I’d have the first as well as the second, but… you won fair and square, ma’am. But as we never actually discussed what would happen if I lost, perchance the terms of my defeat is to buy you and your sister dinner for interrupting your evening?” he offered.

I glanced at Wind Whistler, who grinned and nodded. “’Twould be welcome,” I answered for both of us.

“Thank you, ma’am. Come on, colts! We go our separate ways tomorrow, so let’s toast the Sergeant, and have one last round of revelry tonight!”

They whooped their appreciation, and then followed us back into the pub.

Author's Note

Sometimes it’s less a question of being in the mood to write than what you want to write. Case in point, after all the fits TLaTU was giving me, I punched out this chapter in just three days, though an illness confining me to home and a holiday weekend helped. Apologies for not waiting for all the prereads to get in, but since I can’t really manage a chapter release from work with my new job, I’d rather do it when I’m at home. Today is the Labor Day holiday here in the US, so enjoy this new chapter!

Shorter list of thanks this time, to Leo Archon for some writing contributions, AJ_Aficionado and SilentWoodFire for prereads and feedback, and a special shout-out to TheGoldCrow, who took the time to look over the new chapter despite the fact he’s currently recovering from gall bladder surgery! Drop him a line on his fimfiction or youtube account if you’d like to send him some well-wishes.

Part 16 - The Next Guardsmare

The Equestrian Armed Forces are not for everypony, I tell all those who ask if they should join.

The rightful purpose of a military is to defend its parent nation and fight on behalf of those who cannot, to spare them the burden of the warrior and allow them to live in peace and harmony. ’Twas an explanation I first heard from Sundiver and later Sirocco, and one I have repeated myself many a time since. ’Tis a fine sentiment to be certain. But one that in the end would not be met. Not for Equestria. And not for me.

For the time would come when the armed forces could not keep Equestria’s enemies at bay. A time when the horrors of war would reach deep into the heart of Equestria and spare none its wrath and ruin; a time when all ponies would be severely tried, a time when both soldiers and civilians would be presented with a stark choice: fight or fall. I would have spared them the agony to arrive if I could, and indeed, at this point in my tale, ’twas still my hope that such days would never come. And yet somehow, the thought of war with the Gryphons still paled in comparison to that of watching my beloved friend willingly undergo the same ordeal I had…

Windshear told me that one of the worst moments of his life would be when he saw his son walk through the gates of Fort Spur. And ’twas only as I stood outside the base with Wind Whistler waiting for those gates to open that I knew he was correct.

Letting Go

Standing outside of Fort Spur again was an interminable time for me, even more than it had been when I was but a cocky recruit impatient to begin her training.

’Twasn’t just me and Wind Whistler waiting, of course. Nearly eight hundred ponies were mingling outside the gates as the hour of induction approached, both the new recruits and their friends and family there to see them off. Some wore the uniforms of other service branches, others the attire of nobles. Some were nervous, others were cocky, eight were mares, the rest were stallions. But whatever their gender or demeanor, all wondered what the next few minutes and months would bring…

Whether they would not only be able to endure basic training, but how it would change them after.

I wondered and worried as well, not for me but for the sake of my sister. There were but five minutes before the gates were scheduled to open at exactly 1600, which would be announced by the toll of the bell in the distant Town Plaza. This meant I had little time left to spend with Wind Whistler, after which our relationship would forever change. We could no longer be but friends and sisters; I would instead become her superior and her, a mere recruit I could give no aid or comfort to. I knew this moment would come, and I had spent as much time with her as I could over the previous week in preparation for it. But ’twas still a very hard thing to accept.

“This is it, my friend,” I told her as I heard activity inside the base and sensed the ultimate moment approaching, my heart beginning to race for it just as it had when I had been in Wind Whistler’s place. “Once you pass those gates, you are on your own. I cannot aid you in any way, except to promise you will be in my thoughts constantly.”

“Our hearts go with you, my dear daughter, always,” Silent Night added, wearing her Corps uniform just as I was in my armor, the latter at the order of Lieutenant Ironsides. As I was invited to watch, I expected he was going to make some use of me, perchance to present me as a model Guardspony as Windshear did before.

“I know,” she said, the barest of tremors in her voice. Though always reserved in her emotions, certainly far more than I, she was visibly anxious, and I worried it would make her an instant trainer target when they saw it. I knew from my own class they tended to concentrate their initial abuse on those who were visibly uncertain, and for good reason—if you weren’t sure you wanted to be there, the chances were very good your heart wasn’t into it and you would crumble quickly, for you knew in that same heart you did not belong. “And I thank you both for it.” she told us both, keeping her eyes fixed on the gates, anticipating and dreading the moment that they opened.

Silent Night noticed as well. “You are ready, my daughter,” she reminded her again sternly, walking around to face her and placing her hooves on her shoulders, looking her in the eye. “You can do this. You triumphed over my training, harsh though it was, and that means ’tis certain you can triumph over this. ’Twill be difficult at first, but if you remember our lessons and your love for us, you will persevere. Remember that whatever happens in there, ’tis all a game, and you must simply play it. They will be very hard on you, but also remember that they are doing so to make sure you are worthy of standing with them… and worthy of standing at your sister’s side.”

She said it knowing that if there was anything that would steel Wind Whistler, it was that, and it had the desired effect as my friend closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reminding herself of why she was there. When she opened them again, they were clearer and more determined, and the tremor in her voice was gone. “Thank you, Mother,” she acknowledged, sharing one final hug with her.

At that moment, two Guardspony sentries exited the base through side doors, standing to either side of the gates. They were trainers dressed in their armor and chosen for their size and demeanor, with the aim to intimidate new recruits right from the start.

“Attention, new recruits!” Storm Sergeant Skystrike called out in a booming voice with the aid of a blue command crystal. A younger pegasus Guardspony who had seen some action with the Corps fighting harpies in the western badlands, he had been one of the first trainers I’d been able to defeat during my own basic, though I had a much harder time with him when they started ganging up on me two or three to one. He actually came into his own when fighting as part of a flight or squad, and to that end, he tended to teach team tactics during the second half of basic.

Such thoughts and memories were lost, however, as he went on. “Welcome to Fort Spur! When these gates open, you will proceed inside in a quick and orderly manner! You will not hesitate, and you will not fail to obey any instructions given you!” He repeated the exact same words said to me but a year earlier, but for all I’d been through since, it may as well have been a lifetime. “And your first instructions are these! You may not speak unless spoken to! You will address your superiors as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ at all times! Only walking is allowed—pegasi may not fly in, and unicorns may not teleport! Say your final goodbyes to friends and family now, for once the gates close behind you, you will have no contact with them until you graduate… or quit!”

“Sergeant First Class Firefly!” Corporal Mainmast, the other flanking Guardspony and a recent unicorn graduate who, somewhat surprisingly, had come from the Navy, called directly to me. “Lieutenant Ironsides requests your immediate presence inside!”

“Understood!” I answered instantly, then turned back to Wind Whistler for the last time, ignoring the eyes that had turned on us. “This is it. Whatever happens or is said in there… remember I am always with you in spirit, my sister.”

“And I now do this to make sure I can be with you in more than spirit,” she told me back, and we shared a final, heartfelt hug before I took off and landed at the gates. I did not look back as I was admitted through the same small side door that Mainmast had exited, afraid if I did my heart would break once more.

To Share a Burden

Greetings, one and all. To this point, I have declined multiple invitations from my beloved friend and sister to pen my own passages in this tale. But she now insists, reminding me yet again that her story cannot be told without mine, that she would never have been able to accomplish what she did without me… that indeed, Equestria itself might not have survived without me.

Though I think she exaggerates my role, I will indulge her. In truth, I have never sought the spotlight; I have always been content to let my sister have the honor and glory she has so greatly earned. But as she wishes me to have my own share, perchance it is now time for my own tale to be told.

I am Wind Whistler, and though I would one day bear the title of Bolt Knight and become an officer myself, my story is nothing more than that of a mare who wished to help her friend. A mare whose heart agonized to know the trials her friend faced without her; a mare who decided that if the only way she could help her friend was to join her and fight by her side, then she would gladly put herself through the same trials to do so. Though I would never say I was the born warrior she or my mother was, I do not regret becoming one, save that I couldn’t always be there for them even when I finally succeeded.

I am lucky in so many ways; raised by loving parents who, even if they didn’t initially approve of my friend and future sister, at least saw fit to allow me to be friends with her. I am luckier still to have had a mother who could train me and would support me in my efforts to join the guard, for without her I could never have succeeded. But I am luckiest of all to call Firefly my friend and sister. The bonds we forged have not only endured, but strengthened; not even war could keep us apart and by the time it ended, neither of us could imagine going into battle without the other.

Firefly has spoken of me as being the voice of reason to her impulse-driven life, and perchance there was a time I was. But she affected me also; her passion and determination to achieve her goals touched me even from the time we were foals, as did the many trials she endured. I will allow myself one small moment of boasting to note that I alone saw her enormous potential long before my parents or anypony else did, and in the end, I chose to help her realize it. In the end, I simply decided that if she, like my parents, chose to bear the burden of the warrior, then for the sake of our friendship, I could do no less.

I still remember the day of my induction into the Royal Guard quite clearly, as I’m sure Firefly herself does. When we shared that final hug, I wanted to cry, needed to cry, and certainly had more than my share of second thoughts as the plaza bell rang and I watched the gates drawn open; saw for the first time what awaited us inside.

But I had not been through so much already, enduring months of my mother’s tough love and training to give up now. “Recruits! Your training begins! Move forward!” the four-stripe pegasus Storm Sergeant ordered, and we obeyed instantly, entering the base at a trot. At least one nervous pegasus stallion started to fly only to catch himself; the narrowed eyes of the two gatekeeper Guardsponies told me he was going to be in for it in very short order.

We had barely passed the gates before the yelling began, so much of it we couldn’t hear individual instructions and as a result, confusion reigned as the trainers none too gently shoved us towards individual holding areas depending on whether we were pegasi, unicorns, or earth ponies. Those who were slow to obey or just unable to hear got quickly singled out for special attention, as did a pegasus stallion who made the mistake of flying to his company. He was immediately knocked to the ground and screamed at nonstop for the better part of half a minute by a slate blue pegasus who wore the rank of Sergeant Major… who then saw me.

So this was Windshear. A massive and intimidating pegasus stallion whose reputation as a Defender of Harmony winner preceded him, I felt myself being appraised the instant his eyes fell upon me, judging my worthiness right then and there. I believe he found it wanting at first, for he did not hesitate to get in my face and tear me down, asking me what in the name of all three tribes a pony as unquestionably weak and unwarlike as me thought she was doing in the Guard.

“Sir, I am here to help my friend, sir!” was the only reply I could initially give… which, to little surprise, only set him off further. Despite that, my own words gave me comfort, and I did not flinch further from his presence despite a steady stream of invective and some very inventive insults. As he turned away with a promise to me that I would be spared no quarter for being Firefly’s sister, his voice caught for just a moment as he spotted my mother watching him through the gates as they were shut. ’Twas only then I realized he knew her when his gaze lingered on her in surprise and uncertainty for a moment; I even caught the barest of nods pass between them before the gates closed with a resounding clang.

Firefly herself was not idle during this time, watching from the sidelines at first, though she apparently couldn’t resist getting in on the action as well. As I watched, she dressed down a cocky earth pony stallion who was wearing an Army uniform and a smirk, staggering him with a hard blow to the chest and then bodily throwing him backwards into line—in truth, methinks she was doing it for distraction so she didn’t have to think about me. Her expression turned hard and stoic as she watched me be interrogated, though I knew her too well to not be able to tell how torn up she was inside to see it.

Finally, when they’d separated us by tribe into hundred-pony companies and shoved us all into a loose formation, a call for attention was given. An earth pony bugler then played a short melody I knew from base visits when I was younger meant a high-ranking officer was present. And indeed, all the trainers snapped to attention as well as a new figure appeared, a large white-maned, green-furred earth pony stallion with officer’s bars who bore several scars on his flanks and face.

“Recruits! Welcome to Fort Spur and the start of basic training! Or as we like to call it, the worst day of your life!” the base commander, a First Lieutenant by his collar insignia, greeted us. He was dressed not in armor but an immaculately pressed day uniform, his creases so sharp they could have cut through parchment. If possible, he was even more imposing than Windshear and the other two Sergeant Majors, who having had their chance to yell at us for a bit, now stood in front of their new companies at rigid attention along with the rest of the trainers whilst the already-dazed recruits stood behind them at a far more ragged one.

“I am First Lieutenant Ironsides, commanding officer of Fort Spur! And ’tis certain I am not a pony you want to see more of during your time here!” he told us, and none of us doubted it, especially given that his voice was carrying throughout the parade grounds even without the help of a command crystal.

“We are here to test your worthiness of becoming Guardsponies, and be assured, ’tis a duty we take very seriously! Before your time here is done, you will be tested, and every last one of you will be found wanting!” he all but sneered, making sure his words had sunk in before going on.

“Know that the title of Guardspony is not easily given! It must be earned in blood, sweat and tears! Know that no matter who you were before, who your parents are, or what rank or title you may have held, it matters not! For you are nothing now!” he looked pointedly at the new recruits who were wearing the uniforms of the Corps or other service branches, many of whom frowned back. I had no doubt from my mother and sister’s stories that if they thought their existing experience meant they were already good enough to be Guardsponies or would be treated differently, they would be quickly disabused of that notion.

His voice then dropped somewhat, turning a tone I could only describe as sly as his gaze fell on the mare recruits. “That said, I am well aware that some of you are here seeking to follow in the hoofsteps of others! Seeking to duplicate their feats, and accomplish what they have! If that is the case, then I pity you—for ’tis certain such shallow motivations as envy or glory will not avail you!” he told us, locking eyes with each of us in turn.

“It does not for stallions, and it will not for you! But in case you are not convinced, allow me to present her!” Lieutenant Ironsides boomed as my sister stepped forward in gleaming armor, her medals prominent on her chest; she also now wore a Guardspony wingblade harness on her back. She had not had either on outside; I guessed she had been told by Ironsides to don them. “This is Sergeant First Class Firefly!” He paused to let us see her up close as my friend presented herself for inspection. “This is the mare and warrior you all aspire to be!”

I was surprised to see she bore no less than four awards now on her chest armor; I recognized the Royal Guard’s Guardian Garnet and Aerial Corps Sapphire Star in addition to her Wing Warrior and Commander’s Cross medals. The Guardian Garnet was somewhat rare; ’twas only given to Guardsponies who completed combat deployments with the Army or Corps whilst the Sapphire Star was granted for more minor acts of heroism—in her case, for defeating enemy Ravens and protecting her gryphon charge, perchance?

“A mare who has done her armor proud, and brought great honor to us all! A mare who succeeded where you are certain to fail!” he proclaimed. “Or are you foalish enough to think that you can follow in her hoofsteps?” he all but snarled at us, a look of contempt etched on his face.

“Sir, yes sir!” we all replied as one.

“I wonder…” Ironsides said as he stalked down the line of eight mares, who had been singled out and pulled forward into a separate line. “Sergeant First Class Firefly! Perchance you wouldst care to offer an opinion of our highly questionable recruits?”

“I would indeed, sir!” she instantly replied, and stepped forward to stalk down the line of mares herself, starting at the other end from me. Her face was harsh, her manner severe, and I sensed that she wasn’t just affecting airs as she stopped before the first new mare recruit, intimidating in her battle gear. She was going to test each of us in turn, and I knew then with no small amount of trepidation she would be no easier on me than the rest.

She then sized up the first mare, an earth pony with a bright pink coat and light blonde mane paired with a flower-and-stiletto cutie mark. She wore the rarely seen green dress uniform of the mare-only Plainclothes Security Division of the Guard, or PSD for short, which was responsible for protecting nobles and securing the capital against spies and assassins, carrying out their duties disguised as attendants and maids. As such ’twas rare to see them in uniform and rarer still for them to see action, which is why Firefly wanted nothing to do with them originally.

“What is your name, recruit?” she asked the uniformed mare in an imperious tone, who stared straight ahead like she was used to inspection or standing at attention. A quick glance told me she was older than me and Firefly, and had likely had been in the PSD for eight or more years given the six stripes on her shoulder.

“Ma’am, Master Sergeant Tulip Vale, ma’am!” she answered with an acquired Canterlot accent that marked her as belonging not to a noble family, but more likely a mining one from the outskirts of the city. She sounded none too happy about being forced to go through basic again or that she was being addressed as an inferior by a lower-ranked mare much younger than her.

Trust my already hard-bitten sister to notice and respond appropriately. “Tulip Vale? Such a inspiring name! No doubt our enemies will be intimidated by the mere sound of it! And Master Sergeant, you say? Methinks not!” She tore the other mare’s rank insignia off and trampled it underhoof before getting back in her face. “Once you passed those gates, you lost your previous rank; you are now a mere recruit! So tell me, recruit, just why do you seek to join the Armored Guard?”

I heard the undertone of anger in the other mare’s voice at her treatment, but she answered swiftly and clearly, some bite in her voice. “Because ’tis certain I’ve had a bellyful of watching over stuck-up nobles who can’t even be bothered to dress themselves or draw their own baths, ma’am! Because I’m tired of awaiting action that never arrives, ma’am! Because I’m a warrior and I want something more out of my career than tending tea parties and arranging floral bouquets, ma’am!” she spat out the address like it was a curse, which made me certain she would be in for it from her trainers that evening.

“A warrior? Hardly!” I could all but hear my friend’s sneer. “If that were true, you wouldst have just joined the Army! If that were true, you wouldst have been wielding a spear and sword instead of a mop and feather duster!” she dug her hooves into the other mare more deeply, though I wasn’t certain why Windshear suppressed a smile in front of me. “Perchance you instead joined the PSD because you wanted a life of luxury! And perchance you should go back to that life, because you’re clearly too cushy to be a Guardsmare! I give you a month before quitting at most!” she said.

’Twas an insult designed to earn an impulsive response, and she was indeed rewarded with one. “If you think that, perchance you wouldst care to test me, ma’am?” she challenged in all but name. “I’ve already had two months of basic, ten years of experience and plenty of advanced bodyguard and weapons training! I’ve guarded the Prince and served at the side of the Princess herself! And methinks unlike you, I am trained to detect and slay assassins… ma’am!”

“Oh really?” my sister all but scoffed. “And methinks unlike you, I already have! I’ve fought Gryphon Ravens and won!” She tapped her sapphire star in a boast I knew she would not otherwise give. Perchance she would have when she was but a year younger, but not now. “On the other hoof, ’tis certain they’d have slain you within five seconds… after spending the first four laughing at you!”

Untouchable

“Enough!” The other mare could take no more, losing all bearing and stepping out of formation to face Firefly directly. “I’ll show you what a ten-year veteran of the plainclothes division can do, ma’am! And once I do, I’ll happily accept my armor and rightful rank here and now, ma’am!”

Firefly regarded her almost lazily for a moment, then glanced back at Ironsides. “Sir! With your permission…?” the rest went unspoken, but the base commander simply grinned and nodded in reply. “Very well, recruit. Your challenge is accepted. And when you lose, I simply leave the terms of your defeat to them!” she motioned around her to the other trainers, who were watching the scene through narrowed eyes. “They do not take kindly to such insolence and disrespect as you have shown, recruit. Lose this fight, and methinks you’ll be in for a very fun first night!” She removed her medals as she spoke, stowing them in a hidden uniform pocket beneath her chestplate.

“What are the terms of the duel, ma’am?” the PSD mare ignored the dig. “You can fly and use your wingblades, I don’t care! Don’t think for one second I’m not trained to take down aerial targets, ma’am!” she goaded.

“As you wish,” my sister said with a predatory gleam, deploying a pair of sharp and polished blades from her harness and causing some consternation from the stallion recruits, who were audibly whispering to each other, having not expected to see a duel so quickly, let alone one involving the most famous mare in the military! I was scarcely less shocked; I couldn’t believe she would so casually do this, or risk a humiliating defeat in front of everypony! “The terms of victory are simple, recruit: I have to knock you out, but all you have to do is draw blood or simply put a scratch on my armor to win! And you can use any weapon or tactic you wish to do so!”

The pink-furred mare stared at her, then smirked. “Too easy,” she announced, then drew a hidden blade with a glittering green hilt from her uniform tunic and wielded it in her mouth. She’d broken the rules by bringing her own weapons onto the base, though the question of how she’d slipped them past the security enchantments would have to wait for another time. A duel circle was cleared between the three companies, and Lieutenant Ironsides, though frowning at the presence of her blade, did not forbid it and himself gave the signal to start. “Combatants! Begin!”

Far from the initial burst of speed that marked the start of Firefly’s duel with Sky Sentry, the pair did not immediately engage. They merely circled each other instead from twelve feet away, the PSD mare at a low crouch, her emerald-hilted blade held at the ready. I knew from another PSD mare my mother had once been friends with that for her to hold such a blade meant she’d completed a series of advanced bodyguard courses known collectively as the “Emerald Edge”. It was not an easy curriculum, designed to teach superlative blade combat and threat detection skills, and that she was now wielding a weapon that was awarded only upon graduating it meant she was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

I could only hope my sister realized that as well. “So what are you waiting for? Attack me!” Firefly ordered, her wings flared for instant takeoff but otherwise relaxed in stance. “Or for as much time as you’re taking, methinks whatever noble you’re guarding would already be dead!”

“Methinks you wouldst do well to watch your tongue and be careful what you wish for, Sergeant…” she all but hissed through gritted teeth, then suddenly raised a hoof and fired a miniature crossbow attached to her left forearm, hidden within her uniform sleeve.

There were shouts of surprise and outrage at the resort to potentially lethal force, but Firefly dodged the dart with a single rapid wingbeat, taking to the sky and causing the arrow to pass harmlessly beneath; at least her opponent had sense enough to make sure there was nopony behind her when she fired! The other mare then followed up instantly by going for hidden pouches in her uniform, producing a pair of very lethal-looking stilettos. I barely had enough time to recognize them as she drew and launched them at my sister in rapid succession whilst her wings were still on the downstroke, limiting her mobility.

’Twas a perfect means for taking down aerial targets, and seeing it left me certain my sister was in trouble, as no doubt it did the other recruits. But to our astonishment she recovered very quickly, deflecting the first thrown dart, then the second with her wingblades. Her flying form was perfect, her reaction times incredible, and the skill required to intercept the blades with her own in midair was unbelievable! ’Twas only then I realized just how good my sister truly was and how much she’d held back on me during our spars!

Surprised but not yet panicked as her opponent parried her initial attacks and began to close the distance, the PSD mare reared up and drew two more blades, these long and slightly curved, standing on her hind legs like a Minotaur whilst she somehow spun them with dizzying speed around her forehooves. As they got within melee distance she caught them and then leapt forward, making several rapid and very practiced slashes at her pegasus opponent with them and the one in her mouth—she hadn’t been lying; with such superb form and speed, able to attack with three blades at once, she was clearly very well-trained in her craft! Firefly, however, was just as fast, alternately dodging or blocking her efforts with wingblades, keeping her skin intact and silver armor pristine. The action between them was so fast I could barely follow until my friend found an opening and staggered the other mare with a hard hoofstriker hit to the chin, causing her to drop her emerald blade and stumble backwards onto her haunches, holding a single curved blade in front of her at a slightly shaky guard.

I had the feeling my friend could have knocked her opponent out then or even earlier but was prolonging the battle to make a point. My hunch was confirmed when she made no move to follow up her advantage; she instead allowed the other mare to regain her bearings, who stared at her in surprise, panting hard and trying to blink away her dizziness. “Not bad…” she grudgingly admitted, pulling herself back up. “For an ignoble orphan who got lucky!”

For her part, Firefly’s only response was a raised eyeridge. To her opponent’s annoyance, she wasn’t even breathing hard, just wearing a sly smile. “Flattery gets you nowhere, recruit. Just know I learned from the best!” she glanced over at Windshear as she spoke, who couldn’t suppress another smile of his own. “Sorry to disappoint, but ’tis certain your cheap tricks won’t work here. You’re outclassed and can’t win, recruit. I’ll accept your surrender at any time!” she crossed her forelegs from her hover in a mocking manner, barely five feet away from the other mare.

“The hay I will!” Tulip Vale spat out some blood, then suddenly raised her right arm—I realized an instant too late she had a second loaded crossbow on her other foreleg! But Firefly was again the equal of the threat and by the time the bolt reached her, she had looped in the air, causing the arrow to pass harmlessly through the space she’d just been. She instantly swooped down on the other mare, knocked her down and pinned her to the ground, using her wings to anchor herself to the very air… and in an incredible feat of strength for a pegasus, forced the earth pony mare’s hoofheld blade back against her own throat!

She held the pose for a moment to make sure the PSD mare’s defeat was driven home. I couldn’t see her face, but I heard the quickening of her breathing borne of fear. “You lose,” my sister finally announced, then put her opponent down with, of all things, a headbutt! Some of the male recruits couldn’t resist stomping their hooves and cheering at that, but were quickly silenced by the barked orders of their trainers.

Leaving her vanquished opponent in the dust, she trotted over to Lieutenant Ironsides and saluted. “Sir! My apologies for making a spectacle, sir!”

“Not at all,” he said with a pleased grin, saluting back and raising his voice again so everypony could hear. “A finer demonstration of Guardspony combat abilities we could not have asked for, Sergeant First Class! And as the victor of the duel, I would leave the choice of her disposition to you,” he invited. “As she has broken the rules by smuggling in illegal weapons, we would be within our rights to not only kick her out, but arrest her and pass her over to the PSD for court-martial.”

“’Tis not necessary, sir.” To my surprise, Firefly looked back at the other mare and grinned. “Methinks it made for a more interesting duel. In truth, methinks I rather like her. She has potential and with her defeat, I daresay motivation. Punish her for rulebreaking, of course, but give her the chance to complete training. And for additional incentive, tell her I will only grant her a rematch if she does!”

“My pleasure, Sergeant!” Ironsides nodded to two lower ranked Guardspony aides who quickly took the unconscious mare to the infirmary. “Before you proceed with your inspections, have you anything else to say to our hapless new recruit class?” he invited her to continue.

“I do indeed!” Firefly accepted a blue command gem and spoke into it. “So tell me, recruits! Do you see what it is to be an Armored Guardspony now?” she asked us, her voice echoing across the entrance grounds, not looking like she’d just been through a battle in the least. “None of us were born with this level of ability! No matter how hard we trained or what we did to prepare, none of us came in here able to bear our armor, or fight at this level!” she told us, and after what we’d just witnessed, we believed her.

“The fact that we can is a product of our intense training and willingness to endure it! That we were willing to pay our dues in sweat and blood! That we would not break no matter how badly it hurt or how tired and discouraged we were! That we were willing to accept many hard lessons and painful defeats in order to learn! So make no mistake, and be under no illusions, recruits! As of this moment, none of you are Guardspony material! In the course of the next six months, you will either be forged into one… or fail trying!” she said, and I caught nods and smiles from some of the trainers. “You’re about to experience the depths of Tartarus itself, recruits. Consider it a form of purgatory; the price you must pay for reaching the Summerlands!” she finished, then proceed to interview the rest of the mare recruits no more gently than she had the first.

The Corps Sergeant and combat veteran from Outpost Alpha? “Your Wing Warrior badge cuts you no slack here! Just to look at you, ’tis certain you’d be at the bottom of my readiness rankings were you stationed at Epsilon! You’ll last but two weeks!” she told her.

The unicorn daughter of a noble who sought personal glory? “Showing up so soft and unprepared? Do you think combat is a game? And just who did your sire bribe to get you into the Guard? ’Tis clear you have no chance! Methinks you’ll quit in three days!”

The naval pegasus who proclaimed she wanted ‘to see real action’? “Then why didst you not join the Corps? Perchance because you wanted the benefits of a uniform but not the risks? Methinks you should have just stayed on your airship! Then again, when do they ever fly? You’re clearly not even up to Corps standards, so how do you think to meet the Guard’s? Ten days at most!” she sneered.

The Army earth pony mare from Stalliongrad? “Methinks the last Army mare I met had to cheat to gain her rank and post! Then again, at least she still managed to slay a Gryphon Raven despite taking a crossbow bolt to the shoulder! But you? Methinks you couldn’t even slay the weeds in your garden! Two weeks or less!”

Finally, she arrived at me. “And you!” she got into my face, her expression forced into a snarl, though I could see the agony in her eyes. “You’re a scholar and a craftspony, not a warrior! You belong in your shop or a library, not Fort Spur! So tell me, recruit… what business does a maker of whistles and wind chimes have in the Guard?” she demanded to know, and I sensed again she wasn’t just making airs.

“Ma’am, I am here to help my friend and sister, ma’am!” I told her, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice, knowing that if I broke bearing and locked eyes with her, we could both break down. Or at the very least, I would!

“To help her?” she gave a short, bitter laugh. “Such foalish sentiment! Tell me, recruit… did it ever occur to you that perchance she does not want you to be here? That she does what she does so peaceful ponies like you are spared the horrors of battle and do not have to suffer the agony of combat and killing she did?” she asked me, and I knew then she was speaking from the heart. “So why then, knowing that and all she has been through, would you still seek to join her?”

“Because I wish to help her shoulder that burden, ma’am! Because I cannot sleep at night to know that she faces it alone, ma’am!” This time, ’twas me who spoke from the heart, unable to quite keep the trembling of my lip at bay.

I could sense her heart breaking along with mine, but she still did not relent. I understood she was making clear to myself and all present that I would not be afforded any favorable treatment by her or anypony else, but ’twas still hard to hear these words coming from her. “And why? Why wouldst you do this?” she challenged. “Why would you throw away your life, your comfort, and even your business just to help one pony?”

This time, my voice did break. “Ma’am! Is that not what friends do, ma’am?”

Neither of us could say another word after that.

Thank you for your contribution, my sister. Though I cannot help but note you have, to no surprise, made it more about me than you. I know you do not seek the spotlight, but I do not wish to have it alone. The honor I have won was not possible without you, so I ask that you share it with me, and let your story be heard. ’Tis my hope you will pen many more sections to come, and readers will come to know you as well as me.

This is Not Goodbye

Despite my triumph in the duel, methinks I left Fort Spur that evening a broken mare.

’Twas late in the evening when Silent Night found me inside the nearly deserted Aching Drum, nursing my third apple ale. I’d not eaten, only drunk, trying to dull the pain I felt, wondering if my friendship with Wind Whistler would survive what I’d just done to her. Deep down, I knew it would, but I still felt awful for it.

I’d accomplished what I set out to do that day, but at wrenching cost. I’d said goodbye to Wind Whistler and ’twas certain I’d made a strong impression on both the stallion and mare recruits, though ’twould be a lie to say I was impressed with the latter. Aside from Wind Whistler—who I gave but a thirty percent chance of making it through at best—only the PSD mare struck me as having a chance of completing training; the motives of the rest were simply too shallow and selfish to survive. The former Master Sergeant might make it for no other reason than to spite me… if she managed to survive the first week. I had no doubt that Sergeant Major Metalbender, the head of earth pony training, was coming down very hard on her that night for insubordination and smuggling weapons into the base.

“I thought I might find you here,” my adoptive mother told me, ordering her own mug from the bar and taking a seat opposite me. She’d gotten out of her uniform, just as had I once I’d left the base, not wanting any reminders of what had just happened. “You seem troubled, my daughter. Did something happen inside the gates?” she wanted to know, a sympathetic look on her face.

“Much,” I told her dully. “Eight mares were there, and I tore down all of them. Even my own sister,” I admitted bitterly, taking another swig of drink as I spoke.

“’Twas the first day of basic. ’Tis expected that you do so. ’Tis hardly the time to be encouraging or pleasant,” Silent Night reminded me, but I only shook my head.

“I yelled at her, mother!” I answered, my voice beginning to break. “Told her things I didn’t even mean to; things that just spilled out. Told her that she was a foal for doing this, and that she belonged in a bookstore or her windchimes shop, not in the Guard. That I didn’t want her there and that I sought to protect her from the life I lived,” I gave a choked sob. “Worse, methinks I meant every word of it! And now I feel like the worst friend in the world for it.”

She stared at me for a moment before reaching out and taking my hoof in her own, placing her second over top of it. “Methinks you can be forgiven, my daughter. Methinks as well she understand and forgives you far more readily than you may think,” she patted my hoof. “Perchance you should know her decision to join the Guard was not lightly given; that we had many a long talk about it even before the holidays. In fact, ’twas word of your first battle that finally convinced her to do so; she simply could not bear the thought of you facing such peril alone whilst she sat safe at home.”

I looked up at that, blinking some tears away. “Truly?”

“Truly,” she confirmed with a smile. “Understand, your father and I were every bit as reluctant as you to support her in such an unlikely endeavor, and at first, we made much the same arguments against it as you. And indeed, she did waver for it. But when news broke of your border battle, she became far more determined. ’Twas only then I saw the necessary resolution in her eyes and knew that she would be up to the challenge. That was when we made the decision to support her. And though it may pain me greatly this night, ’twas still the right decision to make.”

She saw the continued uncertainty in my eyes, so she went on. “I know you have doubts, Firefly. ’Twould be a lie to say that deep down, I don’t as well. But I make this promise to you now—she will succeed. And I do not just say that because I am her mother or because she passed my training,” she told me, taking another sip of her drink. “Methinks I’ve been in the service long enough to judge not just strength of body, but strength of will. She will make it because, as I once told you, she has now something and somepony to fight for. She will make it because she has purpose. ’Tis thoughts of you that will sustain her during these long months, and the simple desire to stand at your side once more.”

She raised her eyes to meet mine before she spoke again. “She loves you, daughter. Loves you as both a friend and a sister. Never doubt that, or what that love can enable her to achieve.”

My eyes only got more teary at her words. Words that left no doubt as to the truth, or her mother’s feelings on the matter. “Thank you,” I acknowledged, squeezing her hoof back. “Methinks I still feel awful, though.”

“Because you love her back,” Silent Night quickly noted. “Because it hurt you to have to hurt her like that. I do not hold it against you, and in the end, neither will she. Sometimes being a friend or parent means you have to apply some tough love,” she looked down ruefully, perchance remembering what she’d put her daughter through during their three months of training. “I cannot say this enough, Firefly—I am proud of you. Proud of you both, for all you have accomplished, often for each other’s sake. A pair of finer daughters a mother could not imagine, and I look forward to seeing you both in your armor, standing together as you were always meant to.”

I hugged her hard, sniffling, letting her hold me and provide me the mother’s comfort I’d never before known. It truly did help as I felt some of my fighting spirit and appetite returning, my heart soothed at least slightly by her fervently delivered words. Pleased at my change of demeanor, she ordered us food and then sought to change the subject. “So what’s this I heard about you fighting a duel? I’m curious as to who was foalish enough to challenge you on the first day of basic?” she wanted to know when dinner arrived.

“A mare recruit from the Plainclothes Security Division,” I answered with a grin, and then proceeded to tell her the tale as we ate. “She was good—far better than I initially gave her credit for, methinks. But once I got past her blades, she had neither the strength nor speed to stand against me.”

Silent Night chuckled at that. “Methinks you shortchange yourself—and her. To defeat a mare of her rank and station so easily is an impressive achievement, daughter. Perchance you didst not realize this, but the PSD is not to be trifled with. Though they rarely see action, they train constantly and are very good at their jobs, working closely with the EIS to root out any threats to their charges and the capital itself. To that end, they have an array of toys and tricks at their disposal, many of them given by the EIS. ’Tis likely how she smuggled her weapons in, if they were in fact EIS issue, which are designed to escape magical detection. In fact, the EIS not only works closely with the PSD, they readily recruit from them… as do the Lances,” she told me, signaling for a fresh round of drink. “’Twould not be surprising to learn, therefore, that she is already an EIS agent… which may in turn mean she has an ulterior motive in joining,” my mother mused.

“’Tis a possibility,” I granted, making a mental note to pass her observations to Windshear first chance I got, for if true it implied the EIS was trying to keep tabs on the Armored Guard. “Regardless, when I get back to Epsilon, I must remember to thank Swift Strike for his training. ’Twas what enabled me to block her thrown daggers and defeat her on the ground in a blade fight so easily. But a few months earlier, I might have had more trouble.”

“As suits his name, there is none swifter than he,” Silent Night agreed, taking a gulp of her own drink. “When we were in the same unit, I sparred with him regularly and can count the number of times I bested him on just two hooves.” She chuckled and shook her head.

I looked up sharply at that, my morose mood abruptly forgotten. “You bested him?” I was astonished. “After nearly three months of daily training in blade combat with him, I still can’t!”

She raised an eyeridge back, the barest hint of a smile cracking her lips. “Of course you can’t. Methinks you don’t survive sixteen years in the Lances and scores of covert missions without reaching some very rarified levels of ability, my daughter!” she noted with some humor, then smiled more openly like an idea had just occurred to her.

“’Tis nothing to be ashamed of. So come with me, Firefly. You need some distraction, and methinks so do I. So let us leave this place and find a quiet but moonlit field with no ponies around.” She put some bits down on the table as she spoke, settling our bill.

I blinked as I got up. “For what?”

Her grin turned sly. “So that you may finally face a proper test, Sergeant First Class,” she told me simply, though I didn’t immediately take her meaning, uncertain what her suddenly addressing me by my rank meant. “After all, you’ve only fought raiders and ravens. But such enemies pale in comparison to the Lances!”she proclaimed. “Methinks ’tis time I test you, daughter. You were worthy of the Guard and Windshear, and you’ve even held your own with Swift Strike and the PSD. But let us see if you are in fact worthy of the ultimate test—that of the former commander of Lance Team Two, Sky Sergeant Silent Night!” she bared her teeth in a grin. “And besides, if you’re anything like me, then methinks you’ll agree ’tis no greater balm to a troubled mood than a rousing duel.”

Though surprised at the invitation, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “’Tis true. Aye-aye, ma’am…” I took her invitation as an order as I walked out the door with her. I knew she was right—that a good fight with somepony who could test me was probably exactly what I needed at that moment to break me out of my depression and burn off some tension. But I still couldn’t help but wonder what ordeals Wind Whistler was going through at that moment…

And if she would yet forgive me for all I’d said to her.

Author's Note

Another chapter for my favorite story to work on at this point, and one I turned around quickly yet again, written in the space of about four days. It does help that I already knew what I wanted to do with this chapter, though a couple things popped up late--the duel and the ending scene with Firefly and Silent Night only materialized in the middle of writing them. How did their fight go? You'll find out next chapter. Would have been rather anticlimactic to put it in this one!

My prereading crew was very prompt and enabled me to post this quickly. Thanks as always to AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, Leo Archon, and SilentWoodfire. I'm gratified you guys enjoy both the story and the back-and-forth banter that results in the comments. I know I do!

Will our PSD mare be seen again? As both Firefly and I like her, I'd say there's a pretty good chance!

Part 17 - Letting Go

In the end, mother was right—a rousing battle was exactly what we both needed following Wind Whistler’s first day of basic, though I don’t know which ended up more bruised for it—my body or my pride. Regardless, ’twas time to return to Epsilon and face a fresh set of more conventional challenges, as soldier evaluations were coming up along with some large-scale exercises.

And yet, some other, far more personal trials awaited me, as I would quickly learn. For Wind Whistler was not the only one dear to my heart seeking to stretch their own wings; another certain young fledgling would soon face his first challenge, and, for all his youth and fear, demand the right to meet it on his own…

Warrior’s Heart

I woke up the next morning feeling tired and achy… but also strangely happy and, methinks, at peace.

Silent Night served us both a very hearty breakfast of fruit, hay and eggs, a necessity given the energy we’d burned off the previous night… to say nothing of the wounds we needed to heal. To be sure, she had been right—the full-contact sparring session had done wonders for our mood and tension.

She had also surprised me, however—I regret I had initially thought to take it easy on her only to be quickly disabused of the notion; though certainly not in my class in terms of strength, she had stunned me with her speed and skill, forcing me to fight with all my considerable ability just to hold my own, besting me repeatedly in both the air and ground.

Even in such a short time, she taught me much of close combat, tagging me repeatedly with hoof and wing strikes, even bringing the back of her own blade—she kept one with her at all times; you simply never knew when one might be needed or the gryphons might discover her identity and send assassins for her—to my throat time and again. By the time it was over, I was walking away with a black eye and several hoof-shaped bruises on my barrel, to say nothing of a badly split lip and bleeding flank. Truthfully, ’twas certain I hadn’t been beat up so badly since basic.

For all that, methinks I can at least say I gave nearly as good as I got, leaving my adoptive mother with an assortment of cuts and bruises all her own, surprising her a couple times with a headbutt as well as my aerial skill, which did exceed hers. But she got around that by simple smarts and stealth, striking from shadows or resorting to my old trick of dust blinding; once or twice triggering a surprise lightning strike from nearby clouds that had the effect of blinding or stunning me with flash or boom. Once she even stirred up a small but sudden twister with her wings to slow me down, using it to knock me off balance or simply throw off my pursuit.

“There are no rules in combat, my daughter,” she reminded me when I got surprised at how dirty her fighting could be, remarking as much to her. “Particularly, ’tis certain, in my line of work. ’Tis only kill or be killed, only do what you must to accomplish your mission,” she finished, then regarded me as she might an instructor grading a student.

“Methinks your skills are impressive, but incomplete, young warrior. You need to work on your weather wielding, and tell Swift Strike to start teaching you knife fighting as the PSD practices. You may need it if the Ravens catch you without your wingblades,” she told me, giving me a gold-hilted Black Lance blade to practice with as well as a second letter to give to Swift Strike himself outlining a recommended training regimen for me.

I accepted them all gratefully, but ’twas still sad to have to leave her behind. She assured me she would be fine, though she admitted she might get lonely without Wind Whistler’s presence. “Perchance I will use that as an excuse to visit you on the border in the next few months? ’Twould be good to see you and Swift Strike again… as well as meet your gryphon friend,” she grinned.

“I would like that,” I answered, packing my rucksack into a storage gem and giving her a long hug goodbye before taking flight back to Fort Spur, just visible in the distance. ’Twas a bit awkward that I would have to return there to catch my naval transport to Epsilon, but there was little danger of running into Wind Whistler again, given the midmorning hour—they’d be running all the new recruits ragged out on the drill fields well away from the airship transport docks. Nevertheless, the front gate sentries were surprised by my battered appearance as they saluted me, one immediately asking if I wanted him to summon Bone Deep.

“’Tis no need,” I waved them off with a grin as I returned the salute. “They were only given me by my mother. Marks of affection to be worn proudly,” I told them as I walked by, causing jaws to drop open.

As soon as I was inside the base and past the protective enchantment that prevented flight in, I took to the air again, heading directly for the docks… though I might have paused long enough to look out over the distant drill fields, and see if I could pick out Wind Whistler. ’Twas hard to tell at that distance given all pegasi recruits were now dyed the same drab grey, but I know I saw at least one mare.

“Fare thee well, my sister,” I told her quietly. “And know again that my heart goes with you.” I bowed my head as I spoke.

* * * * *

’Twas a pair of scrolls waiting for me at the docks, presented me by the naval unicorn airedale, to my great surprise.

One was from First Lieutenant Ironsides thanking me for my presence the previous day, saying he understood how difficult it was for me but that I had once again done the Guard proud. He went on to say that he had personally interrogated and chewed out the PSD mare once she’d awoken, warning her that ’twas only at my recommendation she was not being court-martialed immediately for illegal weapons possession and exceeding the bounds of a duel.

“I conveyed your well-wishes, and her response was… rather pointed and profane. Regardless, she told me to tell you that she WILL face you again one day and to beware!” he concluded, bringing a smile to my face—for if ’twas indeed true, that meant the former Master Sergeant was determined to complete her training no matter what, if only to get another duel with me.

The second scroll was a short letter from Windshear, telling me that Wind Whistler had, at least, made it through her first night of basic, which was more than he could say for two stallions who had already quit. He went on to say that his initial impressions of her were quite mixed—that she unquestionably wasn’t warlike, but struck him as very observant and cerebral, though he didn’t yet know if that would help her or not.

He finished by saying he found her surprisingly well-conditioned and able to take abuse—“tell her mother she did well with her,” he instructed at one point—but that he simply didn’t know yet if ’twould be enough or she would be able to develop the fighting spirit necessary to be an Armored Guardspony, which he found very lacking in her at that moment. As an example, he told me she hadn’t responded at all to a stallion recruit mockingly mounting her at one point the previous night; something I would have greeted in basic with both hind hooves and broken ribs.

Though ’twas certainly troubling, he went on to say he gave her only a thirty percent chance of completing training… if she made it through the first week. I sighed, strangely certain she would fail despite my instincts and very heart telling me otherwise, but then his last line brought a smile to my face:

“PS: Whether she succeeds or fails, could you PLEASE ask Silent Night not to slay me in my sleep?”

I wrote him back a response saying in part that I would happily convey his request, but I could guess my mother’s reply:

No promises.

Return to Duty

As it turned out, I had the transport all to myself for the trip back to Epsilon. As it was just us and some supplies, I ended up making conversation with the airedale mare, who kept glancing at my wounds repeatedly.

’Twas somewhat against protocol, but I liked her enough that I ended up autographing a piece of parchment for her. “For my daughter,” she requested, who she said admired me greatly and now hoped to join the Armored Guard herself someday. So what could I say to that except yes?

Her company made the six-hour trip pass quickly, and by the time we docked at Epsilon late in the afternoon with the sun going down, I had even written her daughter a letter telling her to follow her dreams but also know that they would not come true without much work and sacrifice. I passed her the scroll and exchanged a salute with her as she departed, heading for Outpost Delta for her next destination, where she was scheduled to deliver some supplies.

“Commander, Outpost Epsilon… arriving?” Fell Flight gaped at my beaten appearance as I stepped off and she saluted me, the twelve-pony honor guard behind her likewise trying not to stare. “What happened, ma’am…?”

“Nothing of consequence, Sergeant First Class,” I told her as I returned the salute and stepped off the transport, thoroughly enjoying the look on her face. “Don’t worry, I didn’t lose a duel. ’Twas only a fight with my mother,” I told her in complete deadpan, delighting in seeing her jaw drop even further. I then went to my office to catch up on paperwork and all that had happened in my absence, telling Fell Flight that unless there was anything pressing, I would speak with her later that evening.

“There may yet be, ma’am…” she told me somewhat cryptically, adding at my quizzical look that it was not her place to say more, requesting my permission to start taking Gavian hunting at night. Though surprised—he’d only been out during the day to this point—I acceded, looking forward to seeing my young friend again but knowing that per his usual schedule, he’d be doing schoolwork at that hour as a prelude to dinner.

I took dinner as well and did my evening rounds, finally returning to my stateroom when I was done, passing the room sentries and finding Gavian and Stormrunner waiting for me; the latter saluting and former giving me a big hug which he quickly broke upon noticing my wounds. “Moth-er…?” he asked me in Equish in some alarm, pointing at my injuries—he was getting into the habit of calling me that just as I’d finally done so for Silent Night, and I cannot say I minded.

“I’m fine, Gavian,” I assured him, asking him to show me his latest art and lessons, to which he only too eagerly agreed. ’Twould be a lie to say I wasn’t impressed with what he showed me. He was getting steadily better with both, ’tis worth noting again, and his Equish was coming along quickly now too; he could understand most of what was said to him and was trying very hard to speak it in return as often as he could, though he was still having trouble with certain words and sounds—his beak simply didn’t work the same way as pony muzzles, though I knew from the parleys I’d attended that with time and practice, gryphons could fluently speak the pony tongue.

What was harder for them, I was later told, was that our sentence structure was entirely different than theirs, forcing them to think about their words differently. The biggest difference was that verbs come first in Aeric, completely unlike our language. Methinks it gave me more than a few fits when I started trying to learn it!

’Twas then that Swift Strike entered my stateroom, stopped short, looked me over from head to toe, and then grinned. “Silent Night?” He indicated my wounds.

When he saw my surprised expression, he chuckled, pointing at several bruises in turn. “Two wing strikes followed by a blow to the side of the head with a knife hilt then immediately reversing to slash the throat? ’Tis one of her favorite patterns. She bested me with it once,” he told me. “Had she not used her blade’s dull side, ’tis certain you wouldst be dead.”

I nodded ruefully at that, knowing that had we’d been serious, she’d likely have slain me six times over, whilst I would have returned the favor only twice. “Indeed. And she requests you receive these. At least one contains training instructions for me,” I informed him, passing him the scrolls and showing him the gold-hilted Black Lance blade she’d gifted me.

He looked surprised at that. “Those blades are not lightly given, commander. ’Tis a sign of her favor that she granted you hers. It means she tested you and found you worthy of such a weapon,” he told me, accepting the letters to read later. “Our young friend here is likewise proving himself worthy of his own,” he informed me, putting a wing over Gavian’s back as the teen gryphon beamed, the sheathed Raven sword on his back strangely prominent. “After two months of training, methinks he is now good enough to fight for himself if needs be.”

Despite my pride and approval, the words gave me pause. Why was he telling me that now?

“M-Mother?” Gavian called to me again, somewhat more tentatively. “May I… go… hunt with… bat-pony to-night?” That he referred to Fell Flight in such a way was not a sign of disrespect; ’twas that he had a great deal of trouble with F-sounds due to his beak, and the words he used were ones he had already more or less mastered.

“Only if you finish your homework,” I told him, feeling ever more like the mother he called me, “and promise to obey all Fell Flight’s instructions!” Of late, he’d been getting a bit more adventurous on his forays, flying far enough away from his protection that he’d been making me nervous. Never mind the gryphons, there were still a few Corps mares that I thought might kill him if given the chance. Most of the base had come around to him, but most was not all, and it only took one vulnerable moment in front of one disgruntled veteran to end his life. I’d made clear that the life expectancy of anypony who tried to kill him would be measured in moments, but ’twas certain that didn’t stop some from scheming.

“Prom-ise!” he spoke the syllables separately but nodded eagerly, giving Swift Strike another glance. I just got a glimpse of his slight nod back before he left to take care of some duties as Corporal Zephyr.

Okay. ’Twas certain to me that something was going on, and as I set about to help him with his math again, the fact that his mind wasn’t fully in it quickly confirmed my suspicions as he repeatedly mis-added some sums. Finally, I decided to confront him directly.

“Gavian… is there something wrong?” I asked him. “Methinks you’re acting very distracted.”

He got a momentary look of alarm, glancing up at Stormrunner, who was posted at the entrance. I followed his gaze and realized he was asking for support. But for what…?

Whatever it was, Stormrunner stayed silent, perchance indicating to Gavian that he would not speak for him. “I… I…” he suddenly wrung his eagle foreclaws together, his tail twitching nervously. “Mo-ther, I w-want…”

“Yes…?” Methinks I wasn’t sure what he would be so nervous about telling me, but whatever it was, I was starting to think everypony on base was in on it except me.

“I w-want… to… duel somepony!” he finally forced the words out.

If I Die Tomorrow

Of all the things he might have said, that was about the one thing most guaranteed to stun me silent short of him announcing that he wanted to return to the Empire. As a result, ’twas several seconds before I found my voice. “D… duel?” I repeatedly, almost dumbly, then both my rank and motherly instincts asserted themselves? “Who?”

“A mare…” he told me, then looked to Stormrunner for assistance again, and this time it was given.

“He’s having trouble with Flight Sergeant Osprey, ma’am,” the Guardspony pegasus stallion explained, referring to one of my more outspoken air platoon commanders. She was an Omega veteran and unquestionably good at her job, but liked neither me nor Gavian; I’d dressed her down twice already for insubordination and even made an example of her by besting her in a training duel with a little more force than ’twas necessary, hoping that a day or two in the infirmary would get the message across that I was in charge. “Ever since you left, she’s been picking on him, if not outright stalking him. Fell Flight feels that she may be inducing others to do the same.”

“I see…” I told him, my wings flaring in anger, making ready to leave, intending to burst in the barracks and then throw her through the nearest glass window. “I’ll soon put a stop to that!”

“NO!” Gavian exclaimed with surprising vehemence, grabbing at my foreleg with his talons. “No, mo-ther. M-my f-fight!” somehow he suddenly managed the sound. “I w-want… to… d… duel… her!” he told me, now trembling.

I gaped at him. Was he insane? “A duel against a veteran mare who wants to slay you? Absolutely not!”

“He’s ready, ma’am,” Stormrunner told me, stepping forward to stand at his charge’s side, his size dwarfing Gavian’s. “I’ve watched him train for months now and seen for myself how much better he’s gotten. Even Corporal Zephyr would say ’tis certain he can wield his sword well enough. If you wouldst doubt my words, or that this is now the right thing for him to do, then you wouldst do well to speak to your second,” he told me with an arched eyeridge.

I glared at them both, then activated my blue command crystal, causing the one in Fell Flight’s possession to vibrate and glow, indicating I wanted to see her immediately.

She arrived less than a minute later, appearing at my stateroom door. “Ma’am! Is something…?” she trailed off as she saw my expression and Gavian all but cringing, even with Stormrunner at his side.

“Yes, something is wrong,” I grated out, “And ’tis certain to me now you know what! He says he wants to duel Flight Sergeant Osprey! So answer me honestly—have you been encouraging this?” I demanded to know, getting in her face and watching her reaction carefully.

Fell Flight stood at attention, clearly intimidated despite my smaller size. “Ma’am… yes ma’am!” she admitted.

Methinks I was suddenly wondering if my subordinates had all gone mad at once, and if so, why. Was there something in the water? Or were the gryphons resorting to mind control crystals again? “Explain,” I all but hissed.

She did so, keeping her sentences short and clipped in recognition of my anger and impatience, reaching her conclusion in under a minute. “In summary, he’s in danger from certain soldiers, ma’am.”

“So I’m told!” I stalked around her as she stood at rigid attention. “I’ve just now learned of Osprey’s intentions! If he’s been threatened by her, why have you not ended it yourself? If this was a growing problem, you should have come down hard on her weeks ago!”

“With respect, I have, ma’am! Severely and repeatedly! But I fear ’tis not enough! She bares a grudge against him, holding him—and you—responsible for the loss of two of her friends in the Raven raid! Worse, she commands a growing cadre within the base that is dead-set against Gavian, and every time I punish her, they just get more brazen. Methinks you are correct and this must be dealt with… but not by us!”

I stared at her in disbelief. “And you think it can be dealt with by him?” I pointed a hoof at Gavian, whose eyes began to water, making me realize too late I’d just called him weak—which is one of the worst things you can ever call a gryphon.

“Ma’am! YES MA’AM!” Fell Flight shouted with surprising vehemence, loud enough that my sentries briefly ducked their heads inside to see what was happening. “We’ve all been readying him for this day, ma’am! Me, Zephyr, even the Master Sergeant here!” she said with a nod at Stormrunner, who nodded back at my glare, even meeting it evenly. He was the one pony on base who’d been able to best me so I gave his opinion a bit more credence. “He’s not helpless any longer, ma’am! And you insult him by saying otherwise!” she told me, not backing down at all.

With effort, I got my temper back under control, realizing she was right and trying to look past my protective instincts. These three were my loyal subordinates, friends and allies, not foals of the first order. More to the point, they were Gavian’s friends, and they wouldn’t be recommending putting him in danger without very good reason.

“Very well…” I finally said, trying to resort to logic where bluster had failed. “And you believe he could defeat her because…?”

Stormrunner and Fell Flight looked at each other, each asking the other if he wanted to go first. Whatever was said in their unspoken conversation, the latter answered. “These hunts we’ve been on, ma’am… have been less about that then giving him some training of my own away from prying eyes.

“’Tis certain I haven’t hurt him, but I’ve been giving him some real practice in air-to-air combat, teaching him how to use his sword and even his bare talons against airborne targets. He’s much better than you think now. I don’t know if it’s Zephyr’s training or just being well-fed, but he’s gotten quite quick. Far more, methinks, than the typical gryphon I’ve fought in the past.”

“I see. And just when, pray tell, were you planning to tell me this?” I asked, still angry about having been kept in the dark for so long.

“When he made his first kill on the hunt, ma’am. When I was satisfied he had developed enough of a hunting instinct and had bloodied his talons at least once,” she said, having enough sense to look apologetic. “’Twas why I wanted to start taking him out at night, in hopes he can do so. For in the end, methinks young Gavian is right, ma’am. Unless we allow him to do this, unless he can show that he can and will defend himself… then ’tis certain he will always be in danger.

“And with respect ma’am… we cannot guard him for the rest of his life; you cannot keep him at your side indefinitely. Methinks if he is to truly live among us, then he needs to be able to not only defend himself, but let everypony else know he can! We’ve brought him this far. ’Tis time for him to fly and fight under his own power.” She stepped out of her attention pose and trotted over to Gavian, standing on the other side of him from Stormrunner as she draped a large wing over his back.

“Methinks I know how you feel, ma’am. He is my friend too, and I no more wish to see him hurt than you. But I fear that if we do not let him fight, we only make it more likely he will be,” Stormrunner added.

I closed my eyes, then opened them again. “So to be clear, Master Sergeant: you wouldst risk his death… to keep him from being hurt?” I paraphrased, causing them both to grimace. “If what you say is true, then ’tis certain she’ll use a duel to try and kill him!”

“Probably,” he granted, his expression troubled. “But this way, we can do it under controlled circumstances. This way, we can set the terms of the duel such that if she loses, she loses face and rank. Methinks if she loses to him after swearing to kill him, she loses all her power and influence on the base, and Gavian gains respect in her place.”

I knew his words were true, yet I felt ready to tear my short mane hairs out for it. Then I remembered… “All this presumes he can win. And though I acknowledge his hard work and improvement, I am far from convinced he can!”

“I… can!” Gavian spoke up, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. “Mo-ther, please…” he then stepped forward and bared his neck to me. “Friends right. Need f… fight. Want pride. Want hon-or. Want to feel… str… strong…” he told me, struggling desperately to pronounce his words properly. “I am… still... gryph-on. Not weak. Not help-less. Not… now!”

He drew his sword and then launched into what Swift Strike had called a kata, a predefined series of moves designed to teach proper sword form and balance. He went through the motions swiftly and surely, his blade whirling and glinting in the low firegem light as his movements alternately took him through both the air and ground, finally ending with a killing strike against an imaginary opponent.

I shook my head at that. “’Tis impressive, but ’tis a large gap between practicing by yourself and fighting against others, Gavian. Especially those who want to kill you!”

“Indeed,” a new voice spoke up; we turned to see Swift Strike enter the room, dressed in his corporal’s uniform. He closed the door behind him before speaking again, trying to make sure the sentries outside didn’t hear his next words. “I have been sparring with him constantly since you left, commander. He is holding his own quite nicely. I’m not even holding back that much now.”

“Holding his own is not the same as winning! And a practice duel is not the same as actual combat!” I couldn’t believe I had to spell all this out to them.

“’Tis true, ma’am, they are not,” he agreed. “But ’tis also a leap that we all must make at some point. ’Tis time for him to do so,” he stood at Gavian’s side, making it clear I was now outnumbered three to one. “Speaking for myself, I would much rather have it happen here under an observed duel than in ambush when we aren’t looking. We cannot protect him at all times, ma’am. Not against a dozen mares increasingly inclined to hurt him.”

I was about to retort that I could beat those twelve mares to a pulp and threaten to kill them if they harmed Gavian, even have them court martialed or at least transferred out, but I immediately sensed it would ultimately only work in the short run, not the long. There would be others, and the only thing that might dissuade them was the certainty that Gavian could effectively fight back and even kill if needs be. But even if they were wrong and it did not dissuade them… that only meant Gavian had to be good enough to defend his own life. And had I not given him his sword for that very reason…?

Feeling besieged, I looked between the three, then to Gavian and his still teary eyes, suddenly recognizing how badly he wanted my support and approval, just as he always had. But I had just seen my sister off to experience pain and suffering beyond anything she knew or imagined; I had no wish to do the same to a young gryphon colt who I was increasingly forced to acknowledge I was looking upon as an adopted son.

“I need to think about this…” I told them all, going to my desk and sitting down heavily behind it, leaning my face on my forelegs. I don’t know how long I sat there with my hooves on my head—it could have been two minutes; it could have been ten—but finally I called to Gavian, who stepped forward and presented his throat again.

“Is this truly what you want?” I had to make sure, looking for any sign of doubt in his face. He nodded jerkily, but with certainty. “I see…” was all I could immediately say. “Methinks I understand why you want to do this. But I am still not convinced you are ready. So I will only allow this on two conditions,” I added quickly at his sudden hopeful look.

“First and foremost, you must make your first hunting kill—without help!” I looked pointedly at Fell Flight, who nodded. “Just as you can have no help in a duel. And I am not talking fish or a rabbit, you must slay a large game animal. And second: starting tomorrow, you are going to train with me for the next two weeks!” I told him, causing his eyes to go wide.

“You have satisfied them that you are ready. You must now satisfy me. And as much as possible; I will not go easy on you!” I warned him, my visible injuries perhaps giving my words additional weight. “In the meantime, we will double the guard on you, and either Swift Strike or Stormrunner is to be with you at all times in case Osprey or the mares who follow her try something sooner rather than later.

“These are my terms. And I expect them to be followed. Are we all clear on this?” I looked from him back to the others, and got nods and salutes in return.

“Thank you…” Gavian bared his throat to me again. “Not want you… up-set…”

My expression softened. “I’m not mad at you, Gavian,” I told him, reaching out to put my hoof on his chest. “I just… don’t want you hurt.”

“None of us do, ma’am,” Fell Flight answered to nods from the others. “But in the end, the best way to ensure his safety is to make sure he can ensure it himself.”

Gavian grasped my hoof with his left talons. “I… not want… you hurt… either!” he pointed at my black eye. “But… not want… to be…” he struggled for his next word, then spoke one in Aeric for translation.

“Burden, ma’am,” Fell Flight told me. “He doesn’t want to be a burden any more.”

“Bur-den…” Gavian repeated. “No… more… bur-den…”

The one good thing I could say about Gavian’s determination to fight his first duel is that it distracted me nicely from worrying about Wind Whistler.

I did get a second letter ten days into basic from Windshear, saying that four of the eight mares had already quit, but thus far Wind Whistler wasn’t one of them. Though she had a few shaky days to start, she was learning very quickly, he noted, and had thus far proven one of the smartest and best-conditioned recruits, the former being a testament to her and the latter to her mother’s training.

“Methinks she takes abuse well,” he told me, “And ’tis certain she’s not as easy as you were to rile. Methinks I don’t have to worry about her challenging me, but ’tis likely she will need to deal with some stallions who are harassing her before all is said and done. For now, I’m allowing it to happen to see how she reacts,” he told me bluntly.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes at that. ’Twas my fear regarding her; that she simply didn’t have the sense of pride and honor she needed to be a soldier or a Guardspony. She would have to assert herself and show real fighting spirit eventually; if she did not, then ’twas certain no amount of drive and determination would help her once they started combat training.

“Remind her she cannot stand by my side except as a warrior,” I instructed Windshear to tell her in my later reply, “And that we have been in enough brawls at the Aching Drum together for me to know she can be!”

And yet, as I read the letter over a second time, I reflected that Gavian did have that fighting spirit. For all we’d taught him, one thing he’d taught me was that gryphon pride and honor were very real things; every bit as necessary to him as the meat he’d been increasingly procuring on his own.

Gavian had made his first kill within a week after our talk, slaying a large flying boar with only his beak and talons as Stormrunner watched. Our gryphon friend had beamed with pride as the Celestial Guardspony confirmed his feat to me, thus meeting the first of my two conditions. Fell Flight had been particularly gratified not just for the kill, but getting a few meals of her own out of it; the pair went out that night to eat from it. If the campfire smoke was any indication, they cooked it.

’Twould be a lie to say the thought didn’t turn my stomach a bit. I wondered then if thestrals were closer in kinship to gryphons than ponies, and what would happen if the gryphons one day tried to turn them against us for that very reason.

Would they join them? Would they be tempted after how poorly they’d been treated for the past three centuries? And would they then become enemies every bit as dangerous as the gryphons were, turning the night sky into a killing field?

We would get an answer to those questions far sooner than I could ever imagine.

If Today Was Your Last Day

Two weeks passed all too quickly. A desert spring was breaking over the valley, wildflowers blooming along the canyon’s cracks and crevices as I assembled my full battalion on the training grounds one fateful morning. Obstinibly, it was to discuss matters ranging from personnel evaluations to upcoming exercises the Corps was scheduling, division-wide drills to rehearse responses to everything from minor raids to outright invasion, no matter how unlikely the latter looked at that point. We were even going to practice creating a storm, with the goal of assembling storm clouds into a deadly supercell in ten minutes, and just as quickly breaking it back down.

Despite my excitement at making something so massive and destructive, my stomach churned. I recited my orders mechanically, even numbly, knowing what was planned at the very end, Gavian at my side wearing his sword and blue-dyed raven vest.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he had proven himself good enough to fight a duel now. I’d confirmed that for myself in morning and evening sparring sessions, ones in which I’d had to override my own motherly instincts to occasionally go very hard on him, pressing him to his limits and then some—and perchance giving me some sense of how Silent Night must have felt when she trained her daughter. Though far better than the average raider for all his training and all his acquired speed and skill, he was still no match for me, to be sure—’twas certain I could have slain him quickly if I really meant to—but the average Corps soldier…?

That brought up a second issue. My soldiers were far above average, given the intense training regimens I was giving them, a fact that applied to Flight Sergeant Osprey and her cadre as well. He did not have their strength or stamina at this point, though the latter were normally hallmarks of the gryphons, meaning that a long duel worked against him.

“So methinks that just means he plays to his own strengths,” Swift Strike suggested when I presented the dilemma to him. “His small size and his quickness are his assets. I’ve trained him to fight far differently than the typical gryphon,” he reminded me.

“He’s hard to hit with wingblades or arrows, and can sting and move quite effectively.” he ran his hoof affectionately through Gavian’s short mane feathers as he spoke, eliciting a smile from him. “If he fights smart, he can win. And perchance the key, then… is to make sure his opponent doesn’t…?”

His words were meant for Gavian more than me, but in the end I took them to heart as well, sending Osprey out on weeklong leave in the leadup, hoping to dull her edge a bit. I had some cause to wonder if it had in fact backfired when she returned looking refreshed instead of hung over, glaring at Gavian just as strongly as she ever had when she stepped into formation. But at that point, ’twas nothing for it. I had promised Gavian today would be the day, and I could not break my word.

“Before we adjourn, there is one final matter…” I felt my guts clench as I spoke my next words. “Flight Sergeant Osprey, front and center!” I barked, waiting for her to obey. She did so promptly despite her dislike for me, trotting forward and saluting.

“Reporting as ordered, ma’am!” she replied, her eyes wary. “What does the commander wish of me?”

I stared at her for a moment, then closed my eyes. “’Tis not what I wish at all, Flight Sergeant,” I told her, “But what our young friend here requires…”

Greetings, my Equestrian friends. At my mother’s request, ’tis time for me to put down my artist brush and pick up the writing quill again.

Yes, before anypony asks, ’tis true that I do still call the Captain ‘mother’. ’Tis a title she earned early on, one I initially used for simply finding the word easier to pronounce (“Commander” had too many syllables and difficult sounds for me to start), but quickly coming to see her as the true mother figure I’d always wanted.

For all she had done for me and all the kindness she’d shown me, ’twas hard to see her upset with me, but no matter how long I stayed among ponies, I was still a gryphon, and ultimately, for the sake of my own spirit and self-respect, I had to be able to fight and hunt for myself.

In the end, mother understood this, but still made very clear what I faced. “If you do this, I cannot protect you, Gavian,” she told me the night before. “You are subject to the rules of the duel, and if you are the challenging party, that means she gets to set the terms. ’Tis not allowed for her to demand a duel to the death, but that does not mean she may not break the rule to try and kill you. And even I would be hard pressed to stop her in time.”

“I… know…” I replied, and believe me, I wasn’t just saying it. ’Twas certain I was afraid. I knew what these mares could do in combat; I still had nightmares about the failed raid I’d taken part in, and nary a night didn’t pass when I didn’t have more nightmares still about what could yet happen.

’Twould be a lie to say I didn’t have second thoughts, especially when I lay in bed wide awake, glancing over at the cot where my mother slept, hoping and praying I would prove worthy of her trust in me… particularly given I was planning something I knew she wouldn’t like. For all my struggles with the Equish language, I was aware of more than she knew; I understood how badly it hurt her to see her sister off and how worried she now was for me.

I had no wish to hurt her, and certainly no desire to be killed, which ’twas certain I understood to be a very real possibility were I to go through with this. And yet… for all my new friends and my new life, and for all of my artistic ability, methinks this was the one place where my gryphon blood simply could not compromise—I had to be able to stand up and fight for myself after sixteen years of not being able to do so. Perchance I still had warrior fantasies; what tiercel didn’t at that age? But in the end, I needed this for me.

I May Fall

“Your young friend?” Flight Sergeant Osprey turned towards me and glared, her expression one of pure hate. “The sole reason six ponies and two of my own friends are dead?” she asked, to some grumbles of agreement behind her.

Mother’s eyes narrowed; methinks she normally would have greeted such disrespect by throwing the offender through the nearest hard but breakable surface and rubbing her face in the dirt.

“The sole reason we did not go to war with the Empire. The sole reason thousands of ponies—and gryphons—still live,” she reminded all present, causing her own undercurrent of agreement, one that to my eagle ears sounded a bit stronger than Osprey’s. “I am sorry for your loss, Flight Sergeant; I would have saved them all if I could. But you can also be assured the Empire was repaid for its treachery fifty times over,” she said in reference to casualties from the retaliatory superstorm strike on Raptor Base.

“And what good does that do me?” Osprey’s lip began to quiver. “You’re acting as if saving him saved us? Well, the EIS and Lances would have figured it all out anyway! You had no business protecting him, orders or no! He deserves death, and I would gladly give it!”

Mother looked ready to explode, but she took a deep breath before she spoke again. “If that is truly what you believe… then I invite you to take him up on his offer of a duel.”

For all her anger, the mare looked surprised for a moment. “A… duel?”

Before Mother could speak again, I stepped forward. I was still having trouble with certain syllables, but I said, “F-Flight Ser-geant Os-Prey, I ch… challenge you to a duel. Knockout, s-sub-mission…” I took a deep breath before speaking the final part of my sentence, knowing how it was going to be received. “Or death!”

Mother’s face paled under her coat dye at the last word I spoke. “Gavian!”

“Oh really?” Flight Sergeant Osprey’s own surprise quickly gave way to glee as she realized it wasn’t a trick. “You wish a death duel with me, little chickenhawk?”

“No!” For the first time, there was genuine panic on mother’s face as even Swift Strike and Fell Flight’s faces showed visible shock; none of them had known I was going to do this. “Death duels are not allowed on base!”

“Between soldiers, true enough. But he isn’t one, is he?” Osprey retorted, scarcely able to believe her good fortune. “And he challenged me, ma’am. He offered the terms, and I accept them!” she deployed her wingblades, and I immediately brandished my sword as for a single, terrifying moment I thought she was going to attempt to strike me down right then and there.

Mother intervened immediately, planting herself between us, her mind scrambling. “If this is to be a duel, then it will be conducted formally and properly, Flight Sergeant! I already have a duel circle prepared—”

“With respect, commander, your preparations are meaningless. I am the challenged party. And that means I get to set the terms!” Osprey replied. “So methinks my terms are simple: no rules and no boundaries! We fight in the ground and air, full combat! For as long as it may last!” Her eyes had taken on a very dangerous gleam and she was now pawing at the ground with a hoof impatiently. “And when I win, I am untouchable—no punishment! And furthermore, you will arrange to have me transferred back to Omega immediately… ma’am!”

Mother went livid, but with great effort kept her temper in check. “Gavian, you still have to accept those terms,” she quickly reminded me, trying to save me yet again. “Do you?”

I took a deep breath, and in response, I drew my sword and pointed it at Osprey. “I… do!” I told her, feeling awful keeping this part of my plan from her and everypony else. I had no intention of killing the Flight Sergeant, but I had simply decided that I had to allow her the opportunity to kill me if I was truly to gain everyone’s respect.

Mother’s shoulders slumped as Osprey laughed and her cadre of a dozen ponies cheered. “Then don’t expect this to be quick or easy, little Chickenhawk!” she told me again. “For what you helped do to my friends, I will make sure you suffer!” she slashed at the air with her wingblades for emphasis.

That sparked a bit of genuine anger in me. “I… did… nothing to them!” I spat out, tears welling in my eyes as I remembered the ultimate betrayal, to be informed my life was considered worthless by my own nation’s soldiers. “My own… kind… want me dead, you… gryphon in pony clothing!”

Her jaw dropped open at the near-mortal insult as Mother nodded ruefully. “Methinks I couldn’t have put it better,” she sighed, realizing she was trapped, forced now to oversee a duel that could well end in my death, and being helpless to stop it. “You hate all gryphons, but Gavian is living proof there are good and honorable ones out there, Flight Sergeant. We’re supposed to be better than them, not stoop to their level!”

“Horseapples!” Osprey spat out. “There’s nothing honorable about them! For all the times I’ve fought them and witnessed their atrocities; for all the friends I’ve lost in six years of service at Omega, methinks I can safely say this, ma’am—the only good gryphon is a dead one!” she proclaimed to more than a few cheers from the assembled battalion, and she seemed to take further heart from them. “But where are my manners? After all, we’ve only decided what happens if I win. So, my little spring chicken… what are your terms if you win?” She was suddenly struggling not to laugh.

I kept my gaze steady. “If I win… you… apologize to com-man-der, to me… and undergo personal training alongside me with her!” I added the last part on a whim.

She laughed out loud. “So be it,” she confirmed. “You drive a hard bargain but the terms are acceptable. Then let us not delay any longer!” she proclaimed loudly like she was now in charge—which, in some ways, she then was. “We will start a duel right here and now, then! If you wouldst be so kind as to give the signal, Commander…?” She rubbed it in further.

The look on Mother’s face said that if I died, then duel terms or no, she was going to do everything in her power to someday pay Osprey back in kind. With a glance at an equally troubled Stormrunner and Swift Strike, who could interfere no more than she, she stepped between us, giving me one final, lingering look, then closing her eyes in what I knew then to be a prayer. “Combatants… ready yourselves!” she instructed, clearly not about to leave her place between us until the last possible second.

“By all means, gaze on your pet chicken for the last time, commander,” Osprey mocked, dropping into a combat crouch as I did the same, drawing my sword and rearing up to take a ready stance, my wings flared for instant flight. “Now, no more delays! Give the signal!” she ordered like she was the base commander, and though infuriated anew, Mother had no choice but to obey.

“Combatants… begin!” she brought her hoof down in a slashing motion between us.

Music: Qrow vs. Winter

Osprey immediately leapt at me, blades extended; I made no effort to evade as she was on me in mere moments. But I had not trained for months under Swift Strike’s patient tutelage to fall so easily to an initial attack—especially one that was slower than Swift Strike’s typically were! There was a sharp WHANG!and eruption of sparks as our blades clashed, but by the time she had flown past, I’d been rocked backwards but otherwise stood unharmed, having successfully parried her first assault.

Though momentarily surprised, she quickly recovered. “Not bad for a featherbrain,” she told me, circling me slowly, making an occasional feint my way. “’Tis certain I would have been disappointed if you fell so quickly. For if I’m to properly enjoy this chance to avenge my fallen friends, I’ll want to prolong our duel as much as possible!” she shouted, then made a second pass, this time looping in the air, her blades spinning before me in a spiral pattern I knew was very difficult to dodge.

This, however, ’twas where my smaller body and quicker reflexes came into play, ones I’d developed in countless practice sessions with Stormrunner, who had taught me how to fight larger opponents. Wingblades were lethal, but they had one weakness—directly in front. So instead of taking flight as I’m sure she expected me to, I rolled forward with my sword directly in front of me, using my wings to give me extra momentum as I whipped my blade around in an overhoof strike with blinding speed, forcing her to react lest it come right down on her head. My choice of tactics left my narrow form out of reach of her own blades unless she shifted direction… which she did, a fraction of a second too late, trying to bring her right wingblade to bear.

That was my cue. I shifted fractionally myself such that my blade struck the inside of hers near the wingbase, where her strength was least, and I used that to my advantage. Her slash parried again, I erupted from beneath her right shoulder, driving my blade’s hilt into the sensitive flight muscles beneath them, causing her to audibly gasp and her flight to falter, as to the shock of not just her but all present, she crashed into the ground behind me while I quickly regained my stance, facing her again.

“Not as easy as you thought, Flight Sergeant?” Fell Flight mocked. “We’ve been readying him for this day. And I have to say, methinks he’s learned his lessons well!”

“Then you’re as much a traitor to Equestria as the commander, bat-pony!” Osprey snarled, climbing back to her hooves. “I never liked serving under you at Omega either!”

Fell Flight’s emerald green eyes narrowed; she’d told me about the eye operation she’d once had whilst we were out on the hunt. “Assuming he doesn’t put you in the infirmary, gryphonbait, I’ll be happy to do it myself once this is finished!”

“You’ll never get the chance!” she shouted, then attacked me again, this time holding nothing back as her surging emotions got the best of her, throwing blade strikes left and right.

Again, I parried them all in rapid succession, but her sheer frenzy was starting to drive me back, and forced me to take to the air myself, finally, where I made a show of fleeing before her.

“Coward!” she cried as I led her down the base obstacle course, something I’d been practicing at night under Fell Flight’s guidance. My wings had gotten much stronger along with the rest of me, and it showed as I effortlessly weaved my way through, forcing Osprey to follow me… and slowly fall behind. As Swift Strike had always emphasized, my smaller size was working to my advantage again, allowing me freedom of movement and rapid changes of direction she couldn’t match as she took a hoop too fast and clipped it, sending her hard into the ground again.

In frustration, she got back up and slashed the offending obstacle to pieces with her blades, then resumed her pursuit, only to realize she’d lost me… until I impacted her back from above with the hilt of my blade.

She cried out from the hit to the sensitive nerve cluster, knocked to the ground again, and I looked back to see Firefly nodding with approval. I’d gotten the idea from her, how she told me she’d once bested an angry Guardspony by taking advantage of his inebriation and emotional state to lead him down an obstacle course she knew he was unfamiliar with.

Though this wasn’t quite the same circumstance, ’twas close enough, I thought, and it had the same effect as she pulled herself up again, far more shakily this time. “Do… you… yield?” I asked her from my hover with a pointed blade, but the flash of her eyes answered for her.

“Our battle is to the death! And I’m far from dead!” she shrieked with increasing shrillness, adrenaline overriding her pain as she took flight again and started trying to run circles around me, feigning attacks from multiple directions before her blade finally found me, catching my upper foreleg. The pain was blinding and I cried out as a second blow knocked the sword from my talons, disarming me.

Her expression leaped only to quickly fall as I immediately lashed out with my good arm and raked her face with my talons, giving me a chance to get away and try to find my blade again. I dove, looking for it, but she spotted it first and landed before it, staring at me in shock and pain as she rubbed her slashed cheek with a hoofstriker and found three parallel lines of blood.

Despite the injury I’d inflicted, ’twas certain I was in trouble, and I think everypony knew it. I’d been only dimly aware of cheers and shouts as we dueled, but now the Corps soldiers had fallen silent as they watched, many of them from flight at a respectful distance, leaving us to it. Mother was there too, doing the only thing she could—making sure none of Osprey’s friends jumped into help, but I also saw real surprise and hope on her face as she saw me hold my own and then some.

She had not only given me ideas, but she was also the reason I’d been able to recover so quickly after taking my first blade wound. She’d made a point in our training to bruise me a bit, telling me repeatedly that I had to be able to take a hit and keep fighting. She’d hated it, but she’d done it, and now her efforts were bearing fruit.

I’d thank her for it later, assuming I survived the next minute without my scimitar. Now breathing hard, Osprey stared at me, then looked down at the Raven blade before her. Instead of attacking me, she suddenly picked it up with a hoof, studying it. “This sword… might have killed my friend,” she told me quietly, as if to remind herself of that fact. “Perchance ’tis only fair then… that I use it to kill you!” she said, grasping the hilt awkwardly in her hooves.

“My… sword…” I corrected, flexing my right talons repeatedly, trying not to let them fall numb from the heavily bleeding wound in my forearm. “Was… gift from… Mother…”

“Mother?” she repeated derisively. “You call her mother?” she shot her commander a stunned and scornful glance.

I nodded. “My real mother… abandoned me…” I told her. “‘ather said… I was too… small and weak. So they left me when… was six. So hungry… had to steal… got beaten… only wanted to be-long…” there were tears in my eyes as I remembered. “Then… raiders came. Mistress offered… place. But she…” I shuddered.

“But it turned out she wanted him for other things!” Mother finished for me. “Things that should never happen in civilized society! The truth is, he’s as much a victim of the Empire as your friends were, Flight Sergeant! And everypony here except you can see that now!”

“Shut up!” Osprey shouted, then charged me, having lost all composure, now intending to finish me quickly.

Attack in anger and you play into your enemy’s hooves! Swift Strike’s words were swiftly remembered, so I simply started dodging her increasingly wild swings, darting away, trying to find an opening or, failing that, exhaust her. At long last, I found one when she tried to bring my own sword down in a clumsy overhead strike, leaving herself wide open from below as I curled my right talons into a fist and shot upward before the blow could land, striking her chin hard and ignoring the sharp flash of pain from my wounded foreleg it brought me.

I heard her teeth clack together hard and immediately followed up with a second strike from my left talons, raking the top of her muzzle and leaving blood dripping into her eyes. Shrieking in anger and pain, her grip on the sword slackened, and I relieved her of it, dodging a half-blind wingblade swing to strike the base of her wings hard again with the dull-edged but still solid back of my blade.

She screamed as she fell to the ground, her wings useless, hitting hard and rolling over twice. “No! You won’t win! You can’t win!” she told me as I landed before her and she struggled to hold me off, this time by standing and pinwheeling her hoofstrikers, trying to buy time for her numbness to pass and regain her power of flight. I gave her no chance, reversing my blade to bring the dull-edged back in a wide swing to the side of her head. It knocked off her helmet with a sharp clang and enough of the impact got through to stun her, making her stumble hard. Dazed and disoriented, she fell on her side, and by the time she’d blinked her eyes clear again, she found my sword at her throat.

To my surprise, she began to cry. “Just… kill me…” she instructed. “My friends are dead. And I couldn’t protect them. I can’t even avenge them! What use am I?” she asked her gods.

“No…” I told her, though I didn’t immediately move my sword away. “Not want… kill you…”

“But you have to! You’re a gryphon! Bloodlust is all you know!” she accused.

“Really? Because methinks the only one who’s shown any bloodlust today is you, Flight Sergeant!” Fell Flight all but sneered, but then deferred back to me.

“I like… to hunt, yes. But also like… drawing. And… flying,” I told her. “And I like… Mother. And… friend-ship.” On cue, Stormrunner, Fell Flight, Swift Strike and Mother herself came to my side. “Not hate you. Not want kill you!” I told her, and when they arrived, I sheathed my sword, then offered her my talons. “Please. Sorry for friends. Not want them dead. Not want… any of this…” I told her, tears in my eyes.

“Surrender, Flight Sergeant,” Mother ordered, far more gently than before as she fully understood for the first time how badly her subordinate was hurting inside. “’Twas a death duel, but he spared you when methinks you had no intention of returning the favor. You say he has no honor? Well, methinks he’s proving you wrong right now! Submit, and I will let all your threats and insults go. Fail to do so, and I will end this myself if I have to!”

“What does it matter?” Osprey asked, pounding a hoof down in frustration, blood from her facial wounds dripping out on the ground, her wings still only able to twitch. “No matter what I do, Wall Cloud and Waterspout are still dead!”

“’Tis true. ’Tis also true that killing Gavian would neither bring them back, nor heal your heart,” Fell Flight answered this time. “My mentor told me long ago that seeking vengeance only deepens pain. That to start down that path means you may never come back. But you have the chance to turn back here and now, Flight Sergeant. You lost fairly. Admit that fact and accede to the terms of the duel. If you do not…”

Her slitted eyes narrowed. “If you do not, then my earlier promise stands and you do not walk away from here!”

“If you seek to honor your fallen comrades, then do so with life, not death,” Stormrunner addressed her for the first time. “Let your love for them be their legacy, not blind hatred for one who was powerless to prevent it.”

“Buck you…” she struggled to pull herself up again but failed, her wings still nonfunctional. “Buck you all…”

“Last chance, Flight Sergeant,” Mother said with strained patience. “Do you surrender?”

“I… I…” she was staring up at me now as I looked back, sorrow and pity in my eyes.

“Please…” I begged her. “No more hate. No more hurt,” I said, trying but perchance not quite getting across the idea that if she stopped hating, she’d stop hurting.

“And you think it’s that easy?” She laughed bitterly. “All I have left is my hate. Without it I have nothing. Without it I am nothing!”

“With-out, you have… friend-ship,” I answered, finally seeing how gravely wounded she really was. “And I w-want… to be friend.” I offered my open talons to her again.

She did not take them but whatever she saw in my eyes seemed to break her remaining will. “I… submit,” she said, her head and shoulders slumping as she collapsed to the ground. “I give up…” she spoke through tears, and I could not help but have them myself as she broke down completely, sobbing helplessly as I was led away to get my wound treated and Mother hugged me hard, telling me how proud she was.

By all rights, I should have been too. I had won my first duel. I had fought well and shown honor, and the cheers of the watching ponies were raucous, letting me know that they finally saw me as an equal. And yet, all I could think of at that moment was the broken mare I left behind me, wondering if her wounded heart and shattered spirit could ever be made whole again.

Author's Note

Well folks... you wanted more of Gavian, you got it. He's trained hard if mostly unseen these last several chapters, and now you see the results of Swift Strike's training and his own determination. His motivation is very simple: to be accepted, and to feel like he controls his own destiny finally. Some of these sequences were tricky, to be sure, but hopefully they work well. Originally, our vanquished Flight Sergeant had no redeeming qualities; she was simply a bigot. But rather than be so one-dimensional, I gave her an edge and what is, at least in her mind, a valid reason to hate Gavian and want him dead. This isn't an interlude chapter, but I suppose you could call it filler of a kind, a bit more stage-setting for the coming war. Gavian will very definitely play an important part, and Osprey will be heard from again as well. A time jump will follow this chapter to summer, but at this point... war is coming far sooner than anyone thinks. You will see more of gryphon preparations shortly.

Thanks is always to my trusted writing and prereading squadmates of Leo Archon, AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, SilentWoodFire and TheGoldCrow. Leo made his usual contributions, and also the music selection for the battle proper. I still need to start watching RWBY...

Part 18 - Summer Sun, Winter War

In the end, Gavian’s duel did wonders for both his standing among the soldiers of Epsilon and his own self-esteem, leaving me reflecting that no matter how aghast and afraid I was for him at the time, he’d been correct to offer a death duel—by risking his life, he’d made it far more worthy in the eyes of the ponies he lived among, and even, in the end, broke through to Osprey when neither I nor anypony else could.

He carried himself with far more confidence and even started participating in sparring matches with soldiers, much more friendly than the one he’d fought with the Flight Sergeant, who, to her credit, kept her side of the bargain.

She formally apologized to me a few days later, offering herself up for the training alongside Gavian as per the terms he’d set. ’Twould not be true to say they became fast friends, but she did slowly warm up to him much as the rest of us already had, though methinks Fell Flight did make her pay back the slur against her thestral blood by giving her potato-peeling duties for a week.

As the months passed, his language skills steadily improved; by summer he was well-along in schooling and speaking Equish surprisingly well. Things were in fact going quite well overall by then, as my battalion won several readiness awards and did superbly at the intradivisional exercises Sirocco and Sundiver had scheduled, leaving the pair contemplating applying my intense training regimen division-wide.

The border remained very quiet as well, neither gryphon regular or irregular forces anywhere in sight, though we had no idea of what was already in motion, Imperial plans ahoof that would reach fruition with surprising speed…

Enemy of my Enemy

’Twas rare that a Red Talon warrior such as I could be frightened of anything. I had faced down much over my long career, and indeed, fought many a formidable foe, including at least one member of the race whose audience I now sought. But the Prelate’s newest instructions were… daunting, even to one such as I.

As my future friend and rival readied her adoptive son to fight his first battle—and I wish it said here and now that I would test him myself one day and find him a very worthy warrior—I was nearing my destination. My journey had taken me far from home, and through some occasionally unfriendly lands.

Though our nations maintained an uneasy truce and some trade was conducted, the Kingdom of Saddle Arabia had little love for the Empire or Gryphons, maintaining a formidable force on our southern flank that we skirmished with now and again, fighting border battles with their vassal states, which included the lands of Graze, Steedgypt and the Ottomares.

In the end, though we disliked each other intensely, trade was simply too lucrative; we needed each other’s resources and an occasional squabble over disputed borders was considered a small price to pay to maintain it. That border was also the gateway to my destination, and I needed passage in a manner that would go unnoticed; a Red Talon in full regalia simply attracted too much attention and word might get back to the ponies, even if the Saddle Arabians disdained them in some ways even more than us. Thus, I had cleansed myself of Talaeus fur dye and taken the temporary guise of a merchant, one trafficking in rare gems and seeking passage to the far east.

’Twas not to say it made things any easier or safer for me. Not long after arriving I had to fight a duel with a large Hussar, a Saddle Arabian soldier on par with one of our Fortis Knights after he accused me of cheating him in a game of chance, and I later put down a group of zebra brigands who thought to rob and kill me.

The former I defeated but spared, showing him honor for simply showing some genuine skill and lasting nearly half a minute against me, but none of the latter lived long enough to regret it despite their rhyming speech and alchemic weapons. “Easy prey ’tis what we sought! But ’tis not a merchant we just fought!” their leader exclaimed in panic as I cornered her, having already witnessed me kill the rest of her gang with my bare talons.

“No,” I confirmed, drawing and flashing my prized red-striped and onyx-hilted Talaeus blade at her to show her what I was… just before I slew her with it and set her pet manticore free, availing myself of some of her purloined riches.

In the end, they and my merchant gems bought me passage on a sand skiff that quickly traversed the dunes and long arid stretches of the kingdom, leaving me somewhat amazed that the proud and imposing Saddle Arabians had carved a civilization from such inhospitable lands: ornately carved kasbah fortresses overlooking the few patches of farmland available from irrigation, to the multicolored sea of tents at the marketplace, hosting merchants and goods from the far corners of Tellus, all built alongside shimmering desert oases. ’Twas a feat even a gryphon such as myself could respect, and thus I afforded them more honor than I did the ponies at that moment in time.

But after a week of travel, the desert ran out and their diffuse eastern borders were reached. The lands past it were wild and its denizens dangerous, so the final five hundred leagues I had to traverse myself, the land growing ever-more harsh and hostile as I went, forcing me to keep my sleep light and my blades at constant ready. But as I arrived at my destination six weeks after departure and saw the first members of the race I would be attempting to enlist aid from, my insides could not help but clench.

Despite my careful preparations, ’twas still utter madness to draw attention to myself but I did so, calling to them and offering a hidden cache of gems if they would take me to their lord and master. In truth, despite my bribe, methinks ’twas only for sheer amusement that they did so, one simply saying they would spare me only because they very much wanted to see what their master would do with me.

Still, I had a mission, and ’twas the most critical one imaginable to the Prelate’s plans. Whether they were genius or madness I admit I had some grave moments of doubt as I was led into an inner sanctum and brought before their leader. He sat high on his throne of riches, regarding me with open disdain even as I knelt and offered him the rarest of gems as a token, asking me why he should not simply slay me outright and take my proffered treasure from my worthless corpse.

In response, I could only bow low. “Because My Empress offers you the greatest of tributes, ancient and noble one, including an opportunity for vengeance and treasure far dwarfing this if you wouldst but aid us in our hour of need…”

Your contribution is always appreciated, Ambassador Kaval. In truth, I do not know if I could have done what you did on that day. Your bravery and sense of duty do you great credit as always, even if they were being used against Equestria at that moment.

Still, as I read your passage, I reflect how alike we are in one other important sense. Pomp and circumstance has never appealed to me any more than you; I was bored by it as a foal, and as a mare, I considered it unnecessary if not outright burdensome. Still, there were occasions before and even during the war when I would be required to attend some manner of formal function. What follows is a recounting of one such instance, during the period between the last raid on Epsilon and the outbreak of war, two months following Gavian’s first duel… and less than three before the invasion began.

* * * * *

“Enlighten me; why must I be in attendance?” I asked Fell Flight plaintively as I pulled on my formal uniform, a naval transport docked outside with its unicorn airedale already waiting to take me to the Equestrian Army base at Maresk.

“This is a social gathering of military ponies from across Equestria, as is tradition for the Summer Sun Celebration,” she reminded me, assisting me in attaching my medals and fixing my sash. “Its location rotates between the services yearly, and this time it belongs to the Equestrian Army. As the esteemed commander of one of Equestria’s premiere border outposts, you have the distinct privilege and pleasure of being able to attend,” she informed me, the barest hint of irony in her voice.

“And besides, if you don’t show up, ’twould reflect poorly on you and your base. And we can’t have that, can we?” she asked in perfect earnestness, making me think she was enjoying this a little too much.

“And you can’t go in my stead because…?” I pressed, not looking forward to the evening. I’d already removed my fur dye for the occasion, as ’twas traditional that military ponies show their true coat colors and cutie marks whilst wearing formal attire, not the colors of their respective services.

“Because I am but your humble second,” she replied easily, though her grin betrayed her relief. “Because whilst you’re gone, somepony has to look after Gavian and the outpost. And because the last time I went to such an affair whilst operations officer of Outpost Omega, I got into a fight with several Gamma Army soldiers and embarrassed their commander by beating them all,” she told me with a growing grin.

I sighed in disgust. I knew she was right, but still, ’twas not an event I was looking forward to for the large number of fawning nobles and cake-eating civilians I was likely to encounter. “Nothing for it, I suppose. ’Tis just one more ‘duty’ of being a commander that Sundiver neglected to tell me about.”

“Well, you are not going alone,” Fell Flight reminded me, smiling as she stepped back to inspect my appearance. “’Twould not do, after all, for a Guardspony of your rank and stature to appear without escort. Therefore, your new adjutant will be going with you,” she said with a nod behind her as the clopping of hooves announced her arrival.

I turned and started to see said adjutant in the formal deep blue and silver dress uniform of the Corps without white fur and blue mane dye, her mane a brilliant yellow and coat a fiery red as I never imagined them to be. After returning from leave, Blindside had quickly assumed a place at my left hoof, filing reports with a quick and practiced quill. I eventually named her my aide and adjutant, much to her surprise, along with promoting her to Sergeant, elevating Private Shrike to squad leader and Corporal in her place.

“Commander,” she acknowledged my stare with a grin and what might have been a hint of color in her cheeks; in truth, ’twas hard to tell against the backdrop of red fur. “Methinks I had nary any idea of your true colors either, ma’am. But ’tis certain they suit you. ’Tis my honor and pleasure to accompany you.” She grinned and sketched a bow, her good eye flickering to my two-bolt cutie mark and cataloging it, perchance wondering what it meant.

“Your company is appreciated, Sergeant,” I replied, noting her own eyepatch-and-wings cutie mark and thinking how much it suited her as well. “Though methinks you seem strangely eager to attend?” I raised an eyeridge at her.

It might have been my imagination, but her gaze seemed to go furtive for just a moment. “Indeed I am. For I have learned that my mother will be there, ma’am,” she told me. “’Twould seem her tea was well-received at a military ball held in Cloudsdale over the winter holidays, and she was then invited to help cater this affair. I very much look forward to seeing her,” she told me, finishing her explanation with what almost seemed relief.

“Truly? I am glad for you, then. For I have received word that my own mother will be there as well,” I smiled, having gotten late word from Silent Night by private courier that she would be attending in the guise of a retired Corps soldier to provide undercover security, though she would not be available to talk during most of it for that very reason. “I will also look forward to meeting yours, even if I am not looking forward to suffering through stuffy speeches and endless toasts.”

Fell Flight gave me a grin. “’Tis not just that, ma’am. For there is also hobnobbing and brownnosing to say nothing of paying homage to endless nobles. And best of all, the ball goes all night and does not end until the rising of the sun!” she told me in no small amount of glee.

I gave her a lethal look back as even Blindside grimaced. “Methinks you will not escape this duty next time, Sergeant First Class,” I informed her.

“Be that as it may, I am free of it for now, ma’am. But perchance you could simply start a fight as I did to escape early?” she suggested in only half-jest, eliciting a chuckle from both of us.

’Twas but an idle thought, and not something I would have actually considered no matter how tempted. But methinks neither I nor Blindside had any idea that by night’s end, it might actually come to pass.

Greetings, one and all. I am Blindside, and my Captain has pointed out to me that, up until now, I have not contributed that much to this recounting of events. ’Tis not because I have little to offer, nor because I have not been asked before. ’Tis simply that I am content with what I have and have little wish to draw attention to myself.

I am proud of my accomplishments, to be certain, but I am not one to boast; I have always been a mare who believes that a pony’s actions speak far louder than their words. For that reason, I have been content to let my service record speak for me, and my Captain speak for all of us.

Still, methinks I will indulge her and take the quill for now, as there were events that took place during that ball she remains unaware of to this day. I would normally not be inclined to share such events, particularly some that might be slightly more revealing about certain matters than I wish, but my Captain persuaded me that nothing I share could possibly come back to haunt me. I will trust her judgement on this, as I have many times before.

Unexpected Offer

Our arrival at the base at Maresk was met with no little fanfare. As we were announced to the gathering to great acclaim—’twould seem my future captain’s fame preceded her, even then—a cyan-coated stallion with a white mane approached, once the nobles had their turn. He wore the formal white dress uniform of the Royal Navy, the silver leaf of a Commander visible on his shoulders, and his right wing was held at an odd angle to his body. “There you are, Firefly!” he greeted, with little regard for formality.

I was about to address him for his lack of respect, when Firefly showed there was no need, her face breaking out into an expression of surprise and delight. “Father!” she exclaimed, embracing him to my great surprise. “I knew Mother was coming, but I had no idea you wouldst be, as well!”

The stallion’s expression was wry as he returned the embrace. “Well, a contingent from the Royal Navy was required to attend, and Admiral Coral Torch suggested it include at least one high-ranking officer from our battle group. Captain Shady had little interest in the affair herself, so methinks I was more than happy to come in her place… if it meant a chance to see you! I hope you wouldst forgive me for keeping it a surprise!”

“I couldn’t be happier, Father!” Firefly assured him, giving him a belated salute. She then motioned to me. “Father, this is Sergeant Blindside of the Aerial Corps; she is my adjutant at Outpost Epsilon. Blindside, this is my father, Commander Tailwind. He’s the first officer of the EAS Loyalty.”

I saluted him as was appropriate, then bowed before him as was also expected for a formal affair. “’Tis an honor and pleasure to meet you, sir. Your daughter is a fine Guardspony and commander. ’Tis my honor to serve under her.”

“Likewise, Sergeant,” he replied, returning the gesture, his eyes lingering only a moment on my patch. “Methinks you’ve done well to make it so far. I certainly understand how hard it can be to overcome such a… potential disability as yours.” He glanced at his crippled wing in some sadness as he spoke. “’Tis an impressive feat. Your parents must be very proud of you.”

I hid my wince as best I could. “My mother is quite proud of me, yes,” I told him, casting my eye about for her but not immediately seeing her. I pointedly didn’t mention my father, and thankfully neither Firefly nor Tailwind asked. Then again, I wasn’t about to give them the chance, quickly shifting the subject. “And I believe you said your own wouldst be here as well, ma’am?” I addressed Firefly.

“Indeed she is,” a mare’s voice spoke softly from directly behind us, causing us all to jump.

“Mother!” Firefly greeted her with a salute followed by a hug as the newcomer revealed herself to be another Corps member in formal dress blue uniform, an older but surprisingly trim-looking mare wearing a dozen medals and the stripes of a Sky Sergeant. I hadn’t sensed her approach at all, which was more than a bit disconcerting; just how had she evaded my awareness?

Still, a superior officer was present, so I saluted her as well. “Ma’am, Sergeant Blindside, adjutant to Outpost Epsilon’s commanding officer.”

She did me the courtesy of returning the salute. “Sky Sergeant Silent Night, currently part of the active reserve…” She peered hard at me, and I gained the distinct impression she was seeing far more than just my appearance. Whatever she saw, she seemed satisfied as she leaned in closer. “… and a former member of the Black Lances,” she told me as my commander and her father grinned, watching my reaction closely.

That sibilant whisper sent a chill down my spine. I knew of the Lances by reputation, of course. Officially, they were a branch of the Aerial Corps that did more covert work than overt, and I had increasing cause to believe that Corporal Zephyr might actually be one given how much time he seemed to spend with my commander and her gryphon charge, far more than ’twould seem a simple logistics liaison would require.

Unofficially, they were more akin to a combat arm of the EIS who dealt with all manner of nasty business; methinks I suddenly understood why my commander had come back so badly beaten two months earlier! “And… might I ask why you’re telling me such… sensitive information?” I regarded her with some wariness, sparing an immensely amused Firefly a glance as well. Was she in on this…?

Her mother grinned like she was used to my reaction. “Two reasons, Sergeant. One, I know that you are a mare of integrity, thanks to my daughter’s stories of what has happened at Epsilon. She has spoken to me of you repeatedly, saying you are quite smart and a superb flyer despite your lack of depth perception,” she told me, causing a hint of color to enter my cheeks.

“And two, you have been observed during your stay at Epsilon. It has been noted that you have turned your lack of one eye to your advantage by developing superb awareness of your environment using your other senses, able to not only easily navigate obstacle courses, but dodge blades and crossbow bolts almost effortlessly. Such qualities are rare, and for them we believe you wouldst make a fine Lance… if given the opportunity,” she replied with an arched eyeridge.

“She spoke to me of this in a private letter, Sergeant,” Firefly told me. “The Lances do indeed wish to recruit you, and I cannot but agree you wouldst make an excellent addition to their ranks. I would be sorry to lose your practiced pen and one of my finest soldiers, of course, but I would not stand in your way if you wish to avail yourself of this offer. Methinks I will leave you two alone to discuss its terms privately. But be assured the choice is entirely yours, and that there is no penalty for declining,” she told me, going off with her father again, the pair seemingly sharing a laugh at my expense.

I stood stunned as I watched her leave, my mouth agape and mind awhirl. The thought itself was enough to give great pause—me, becoming one of our most elite and dangerous warriors by joining the most mysterious military unit we had? What would it mean? And more importantly, what would I have to give up?

’Twas the latter thought that gave me the most pause before replying, suddenly thinking of my mother, to say nothing of… “Apologies, ma’am, but for now, l do not believe the Lances are for me. I am satisfied with my station and believe my place is in the Corps proper… by my commander’s side.” I looked at Firefly, who was now engaged in conversation with her father and several other officers at that point.

Silent Night looked between her and I, before gaining a most mischievous grin. “Well, you may lack one of your eyes, but ’twould seem you certainly have an eye for beauty.”

My already red coat darkened further at the implications of that statement, one that echoed certain… thoughts I’d been having more and more frequently of late, ones not entirely welcome since ’twas certain to me there was little chance they could ever be indulged. “Ma’am, I’m not certain what you’re referring to…”

She giggled—outright giggled—before continuing. “Why so flustered, Sergeant? ’Tis not like I was saying something indecent. For as fine a fighter as my daughter is, I simply feel it would be good for her to be a bit more… socially rounded, shall we say. And perchance she just needs the proper partner to do so.”

She gave me a parting wink before stepping away, catching Firefly’s attention whilst I struggled frantically to hide my now-very fierce blush, which I feared would be visible even against the backdrop of red fur. “But that is between the two of you. You likewise do not have to decide on my offer right away, Sergeant. It remains open until such time as you see fit to take it, whether that is next week or never. In the meantime, methinks I should be getting back to my security post. I will see you after the ball concludes, my daughter,” she said with a parting wink to me and a short bow to Firefly as she neared.

“Of course, Mother,” Firefly said with a nod and bow back as Silent Night departed, leaving me beside her daughter and praying she didn’t look at my hot cheeks too closely.

Tailwind watched her leave as well, then turned back to Firefly. “Well now. As we are here, we should participate properly. Will you grant me the distinct pleasure of a dance, my daughter?” He offered her a hoof.

To this day, I believe myself along with Tailwind are the only two ponies to ever see an expression of outright terror on Firefly’s face. “Um… er… I, ah…” she stuttered, which caused me to arch an eyeridge. “That is, I…”

“Is there something wrong, commander?” I asked, tilting my head whilst struggling to recover my lost bearings.

“It’s, ah… that is to say…” Firefly’s stutter was not improving at all.

“Firefly? Are you—?” Tailwind began, giving his adopted daughter a sideways look.

“Idon’tknowhowtodance!” she blurted out, all but cringing.

Both Tailwind and I blinked, exchanging looks. “I beg your pardon?” I asked for both of us.

Firefly took a breath. “Father, I… I don’t… know… how to dance,” she said far more slowly.

There was a moment of silence from all of us before Tailwind scoffed. “Is that all? That’s easily remedied, my daughter! Methinks I’ll be more than happy to teach you!” Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed her hoof and began dragging her off towards the dance floor, leaving me mentally kicking myself for not offering the invitation myself.

“But… but…” Firefly’s protests were drowned out as despite my disappointment I couldn’t help but chuckle at her misfortune, watching as my commander was forced to face the one fight she was not prepared for in the least. Still, as her adjutant, I had to keep her in sight until we reached our destination, so I followed the two inside to the base’s grand hall, which was where the majority of the ball was being hosted.

After Firefly seemed settled, I availed myself of the opportunity to find and greet my mother, and then spent some time mingling, seeking distraction from multiple chains of thought that simply would not quiet after my talk with the Sky Sergeant. I was even asked to dance myself by a few ponies that weren’t put off by my eyepatch. Unlike my future captain, I did know how to dance; part of my physical training for the Corps included a dance class I attended, for added grace and dexterity. And indeed, several stallions—and even a few mares—complimented me for my flair on the dance floor.

At least one of the latter outright propositioned me, but I declined, not wanting to leave my future Captain’s side, especially not when my thoughts were suddenly of her. ’Twas slightly comical to see her so clumsy and awkward given her usual grace and skill in combat—’twas certain I’d never seen a more natural warrior or leader than her—but under her father’s patient tutelage, she was at least performing passably after the first hour.

Still, after ten dances with mares and stallions alike—we as a species see nothing wrong with intra-gender socializing like this—I was getting a bit tired of the dance floor, and so made my way towards the refreshments table, begging off one more hopeful dance partner on the way. I had a secondary purpose in heading for that table; I had not seen my mother since the ball began, and was curious to see how she was doing, surrounded by military top brass.

I confess, however, that my expectations for her current status did not include her indulging in an argument with an Aerial Corps officer I’d never seen before, a burgundy stallion with orange mane who wore the twin silver bars of a captain on either side of his collar. My mother, Sweet Leaf, was not one to raise her voice. Nor was she one to threaten violence, yet her stance and tone regarding the officer before her indicated that she was well prepared to do both. Not wishing her to be hurt in any way, I quickly stepped up next to her. “Mother, is there a problem?”

Before she could answer, the captain saw me and spoke. “‘Mother?’” He peered at me closely, almost immediately locking on to my patch. “I see… so this is what’s become of you, Fireball.”

I started; very few ponies knew my birth name. “How do…?”

“My daughter,” Mother broke in, her voice tense and manner extremely agitated, “allow me to introduce Captain Monsoon of the Aerial Corps’ 2nd division. He’s currently in charge of overseeing the border with the Diamond Dogs… and I used to be a member of his herd.”

Nothing to Prove

I wasn’t made Firefly’s adjutant for being slow-witted; I immediately recognized the clue I’d been given, staring at the stallion and noting a sudden resemblance. “Then… he is…?”

“Yes. He is your father,” she said shortly, and none too happily.

Monsoon snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I may have sired her, but Fireball is no daughter of mine! And I cannot help but wonder how it is that she is here.”

I narrowed my visible eye, my earlier thoughts of Firefly abruptly forgotten. I’d dreamed of this day in the past, but never imagined it would come to pass here! “My name is now Blindside, sir. And I will have you know I am here as the adjutant to Outpost Epsilon’s commander.”

“Hah! A grand jest,” he laughed, much to my irritation. “I am bewildered that a half-blind cripple such as yourself would ever be accepted into the Corps, much less make Sergeant.”

There was a growing circle of silence around us as more and more ponies turned to regard us; Monsoon wasn’t exactly being quiet and didn’t seem to care in the least about it. I was beyond caring about it myself at that moment, though; I was too busy seeing red. “Then perchance, Father—” I dripped scorn on the title “—you wouldst care to test my mettle yourself, and see how I rate my rank?”

He snorted again, looking more annoyed than amused. “Do not be so gauche, Sergeant. The Summer Sun Celebration is hardly the time or place for a duel. And even if circumstances were more permitting, you are not worth my time. I would hardly wish to debase myself by humiliating somepony with such a distinct disadvantage.”

My teeth gnashed as I fought to remain calm; I hadn’t been this angry since that fateful night at Epsilon that had claimed the lives of so many. My mind instantly flashed back to my bloodstained blades and the moments I took the lives of two raiders; I was suddenly tempted to publicly accept the offer to join the Lances just so I could show him how wrong he was.

“My… unique trait is hardly a disadvantage, sir. It may interest you to know that I have seen combat on the border already. Outpost Epsilon was the target of two raids not that long ago, and I was instrumental in thwarting the gryphons’ schemes.” I tapped the Wing Warrior badge on my chest.

“Congratulations,” he drawled, waving a hoof in dismissal. “You thwarted raids on the most backwater base the Corps runs. What, were the gryphons throwing stones, and you threw them back?”

Now I was angrier than I had been that night; ’twas one thing to be in the heat of the moment, with a clear enemy to fight, but this… stallion was dismissing all my accomplishments and all that had happened with a look of contempt on his face. Instead of pouncing on him as I so desired to do, I reined in my rapidly growing ire and regarded him coolly. “You haven’t heard the details? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; guarding the Diamond Dog border must mean the Corps top brass doesn’t believe you need to know about important skirmishes along the gryphon frontier.”

That got his attention, as he fixed me with a glower, even as the circle of silence surrounding us grew. “Watch yourself, Sergeant; you are far from invincible, no matter what delusions you’ve suffered at Epsilon. And I am far too busy guarding my own border to worry about affairs on other fronts.”

“Yes, because watching an opponent that spends the majority of time underground must be exhausting,” I drawled in a direct mockery of his earlier tone; even Mother smiled at that one.

He growled at that, and stepped forward. “Mayhap I will reconsider your earlier request, Sergeant. I’m certain we can find some wingblades somewhere for a proper duel.”

I was all too ready to accept, but a new voice broke in. “Ah! Sergeant Blindside!” Glancing back, I saw Captain Sirocco approaching, her expression going dark as she saw her second division counterpart. “I see you’ve met Captain Monsoon. I hope I am not interrupting anything?” she asked as she looked between us.

“Nothing too important,” I answered, keeping my eye on Monsoon, who greeted Sirocco with narrowed eyes. “I was just relating the details of the raids on Epsilon. He seemed unaware of what we had gone through.”

“Truly?” Sirocco asked, giving Monsoon a gimlet eye. “How strange; I know I sent reports of what happened to the other division commanders, as well as Corps Headquarters.”

“Indeed. And some of those reports I helped write myself,” I mused. “But perchance we should give him the benefit of the doubt, Captain. After all, he was just saying how tiring it was guarding the Diamond Dog border. So much so, in fact, that he didn’t have time to read reports from the other fronts.” I shook my head in mock sympathy. “If guarding our borders is so exhausting to him, perchance he deserves a break from the front lines?”

“Perchance you are right,” Sirocco agreed, appearing to have no more use for him than I did; judging by their mutual glares there was clearly some history between them. “If he feels his duties are beneath him, I will be more than happy to make a recommendation to General Fairweather that Captain Monsoon be recalled to Canterlot for a desk position, and another Captain sent in his place. I do believe Captain Starblaze has been languishing at headquarters, wanting a front line post for many months.” She took on a sly, yet mocking grin.

“Is that so?” Monsoon asked, sneering. “Then ’twould seem you both misunderstand me. I read the reports and found them a sad litany of errors in judgment and failure of leadership from Epsilon on up. Truly, the 5th Division has fallen far under your command, Captain.”

This time, it was Sirocco’s eyes that narrowed. “Truly?” Mother said blandly, heading off what was certain to be a very heated response. “I was right here the whole time, and I seem to recall you dismissed her claims of thwarting two raids with an absolutely appalling analogy. What was it, again? ‘Were the gryphons throwing stones, and you threw them back?’”

The glare Sirocco gave Monsoon at that should have ignited his coat, by all rights. “I retract what I said before; my recommendation will be that Captain Monsoon be immediately relieved of his command and rank, given his blatant disrespect towards his fellow Corps members.”

Unintimidated, Monsoon returned Sirocco’s glare with equal heat. “And mine will be to have you relieved for gross incompetence and slackening of Corps standards for allowing an outpost to be twice ambushed, to say nothing of giving command to a hatchling guardsmare whose actions endangered her base!”

’Twas then that our activities finally caught the attention of Firefly herself, who immediately trotted over, her father close behind. “Greetings, ma’am,” she saluted Sirocco, who gave her a perfunctory one back. “Is there a problem here?” she looked from me to my father, recognizing raised hackles and twitching wings.

“Commander, may I introduce my mother, Sweet Leaf. And this is Captain Monsoon, the stallion I just now learned was my sire…” I said through clenched teeth, wondering if I was going to be able to stop myself from assaulting both a stallion and a superior officer, or if an increasingly livid Captain Sirocco would save me the trouble.

“Ah, so this is your commander? The famous Firefly?” he asked, looking her over from head to toe and appearing less than impressed. “’Twould appear the Equestrian military is losing its high standards then, when mares enter the Guard and cripples join the Corps!”

My future Captain’s manner instantly went ice cold. “With all due respect, sir, my armor was earned and the medals I wear were paid for in blood. ’Tis no less true for my adjutant, who has earned her place at my side. You wouldst do well to not disrespect her, for by doing so, you disrespect me.”

“Oh, good, I was worried I was being too subtle,” Monsoon replied. “Outpost Epsilon is a Corps border base, not some playground for a hatchling Guardsmare who hasn’t the slightest clue how to lead!”

Firefly herself looked ready to forgo both a duel and wingblades in order to beat Monsoon to within an inch of his life with her bare hooves right then and there, but a new voice stopped her. “Now, now, this is supposed to be a happy affair, fellow soldiers of Equestria. So what is all the fuss about?” Approaching was a mare with a cloud-grey coat paired with brilliant yellow mane and tail, her flank adorned with a cirrus cloud cutie mark. I didn’t recognize her on sight, but the four stars on her shoulders were a clue to her identity, to say nothing of her entourage of guards and nobles.

Cid’s Theme—Lindblum Castle (Final Fantasy IX OST)

Everypony present immediately came to rigid attention and saluted sharply. “General Fairweather!” Sirocco exclaimed. “I had no idea you were attending personally!”

“’Tis tradition for at least one service head to attend the Summer Sun Military Ball,” Fairweather noted, her reputation for cool temperament and somewhat dry wit already in evidence. ’Twas said she’d taken over the Corps under a bit of a cloud, given the slightly mysterious circumstances that had accompanied the sudden resignation of her occasionally outspoken and often controversial predecessor, the now-retired General Squall Line. “Now, then, as I asked, what seems to be the problem over here?”

Monsoon was quick to speak up. “General Fairweather, I must regrettably call Captain Sirocco’s competence as a division leader into question,” he announced without any hint of regret at all.

I would not want to play cards against Fairweather; her face was perfectly blank. “’Tis a serious charge, Captain Monsoon. What reason do you have for doing so?”

“The incidents at Outpost Epsilon,” he replied smoothly. “Under Lieutenant Sundiver’s leadership, the outpost earned a reputation for being a safe haven for new recruits and young NCOs to earn their wings. Yet mere weeks into a new command, the base suffered heavy losses in a gryphon raid. ’Tis clear to me that Sergeant First Class Firefly was unfit for command when she had it forced upon her by Captain Sirocco. Thus they must share the blame for the loss of life!”

Both Sirocco and Firefly looked close to spitting nails; the latter’s teeth went clenched as I imagined she was forced to relive the agony of the losses we suffered and having to make her first kill. ‘Twas an agony I shared, and the guilt I still felt for enjoying my kills and forcing Firefly to make hers came back full force as well. “That is a gross misreading of what happened, sir,” Firefly snarled. “Had you read the report, you wouldst know our supposedly-secure communications were compromised during that incident, and we were deceived into sending half our force to a town that was not under threat after all.”

“And the fact that you could not see through such an obvious ruse merely proves my point about your fitness for command, or lack thereof,” Monsoon riposted, then turned to address Sirocco. “Never mind the fact that Sirocco not only retained you there, but indulged your desire to keep a pet gryphon and a half-breed thestral first officer. Such casual tolerance of such obvious security threats speak to your incompetence and utter unfitness for your post, Captain. One, I submit, should belong to a far more competent commander; one who brooks no failure and has exacting standards,” he finished, leaving no doubt he was asking for assignment to it himself.

“So exacting, you threw me and your daughter out of your herd for not meeting your standards!” Mother’s eyes were teary and her voice was barely below a shout; I immediately went to her side and placed my wing over her, glaring at my sire—I refused to grant him the dignity of ‘father’, even with my thoughts.

“No, I would have allowed you to stay if you put this half-blind cripple into an orphanage where she belonged!” he snarled, completely unrepentant. “All my offspring should follow in my wingbeats, but ’twas not possible for her! She was not worthy of either my name, or even the title of pegasus!” he told us both, causing my wings to flare hard in anger and my teeth to bare.

“Enough.” Events might have spun out of control then, but Fairweather held up a hoof, forestalling any objections or challenge that not just me, but my then or future Captains, might have made. “Your point is made plain, Captain Monsoon. ’Tis true that, during the incident in question, there was a great loss of life at Outpost Epsilon, and that there are certainly some… unusual arrangements in place since.” As Monsoon smirked at Sirocco, Fairweather continued. “However, those arrangements were in fact approved by no less than the princess herself, and the incidents in question were fully investigated by Corps command and all were found blameless. The gryphons resorted to a previously unseen tactic by compromising our command gems, one Sundiver himself said he would have fallen for.

“And since you mentioned him, you should know First Lieutenant Sundiver had nothing but praise for the performance of his former second, who has proven herself both a fine warrior and commander. I also note that Outpost Epsilon’s combat readiness has reached an all-time high in the five months since she took command, and I plan to visit her base myself when the ball is over to see her training regimens firsthoof,” she said with a nod at Firefly, whose anger gave way to surprise.

“You are, of course, welcome to your opinion of matters, but they do not match my own. The attacks were fully investigated by Corps Command, and having approved their final report as well as implemented its recommendations, as far as I am concerned, the matter is closed. Unless, of course, you are suggesting that I, too, am incompetent for concurring with the report’s conclusions… to say nothing of approving Sirocco’s recommendation to award Sergeant Firefly the Commander’s Cross?” she asked in a very mild tone. “For if you do, one wonders if you are less interested in your duty to protect Equestria then securing your own advancement at the expense of your fellow Captain.” She finished without ever raising her voice, though the implicit warning behind her words was heard loud and clear.

My revealed father paled for a moment, then worked up some more nerve. “And one then wonders if the rot of the Corps goes all the way to the top, ma’am. Under General Squall Line, heads would have rolled after that attack and ’tis certain he would never have rewarded those responsible with promotion or decoration! To say nothing of allowing unfit soldiers to serve!” He looked pointedly at me.

I was suddenly very glad Fell Flight was not present, having heard from her directly the story of how she earned her Sapphire Sentinel medal and all that happened in its aftermath. Never mind the slur against her thestral heritage, I could guess all too well the explosion that would result from the mere mention of Squall Line’s name. “If you think me unfit, sir, methinks I would be more than happy to show you my aerial skill,” I told him, amazed I could sound so calm given how irate I felt. Methinks ’twas only the presence of my mother that kept me from attacking this insulting stallion sooner, though the sheer serenity that the Corps Commander displayed in the face of said stallion probably also helped. Displays of temper could be contagious, but, so it would seem, could calmness… though apparently, even that only went so far.

“And methinks I would be hard pressed to find a reason to forbid it,” Fairweather agreed, ever-so-slightly arching an eyeridge. “’Twould seem to me the daughter you so callously discarded has every reason to demand satisfaction for that reason alone, never mind your insults of her today. So if you wish a duel, Sergeant… I will not disapprove it,” she told me, then stepped aside.

“As you wish! Well? So what will it be, whelp?” He asked me, now clearly trying to goad me, tossing his red mane and turning slightly sideways to show off his blade-gleam cutie mark. “If you think me soft, I suggest you think again. I have won many challenges and slain many a harpy and gryphon. So if you insist on a duel, I will be more than happy to give you one.”

I glanced at my mother, who shook her head, indicating she did not want me to fight him, and ’twas her wishes alone that ultimately swayed my decision. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eye, then opened it again. “No,” I told him. “As tempting as it might be, sir, you were correct earlier when you said ’twas neither the time nor place. I came here to accompany my commander and see the mother who raised me, not the sire who abandoned us both. You discarded me as worthless, and as such methinks I have nothing to say or prove to you,” I informed him. “In short, you are not worth my time... sir.” Dripping contempt on the title, I very deliberately turned my back in a show of extreme disrespect, causing him to all but hiss and take a step towards me.

“You show far more restraint than I would, Sergeant,” Firefly said in some wonder, quickly stepping between us and then staring down my sire herself. “Very well, then, Captain. I had thought to challenge you myself, but I will defer doing so to my adjutant, who ’twould seem has more right to decide such matters than me. And besides, ’tis certain just from looking at you I would not be tested,” she finished with a sneer.

“I could say the same for you, Guardsmare!” He dripped scorn on the title, causing narrowed eyes from her and several Armored Guardsponies in attendance. “Be assured I will accept your challenge at any time!”

“Well, then. As my subordinates have declined, I believe the job of putting you in your place then falls to me!” Sirocco announced, raising her voice for all to hear. “As you have questioned my command and demanded my post, ’tis only fitting if we determine if you are in fact worthy of it. So care to step outside, Captain Monsoon?”

He showed his teeth in return; the least I could say about him from all this was that he wasn’t a coward. “’Twould be my greatest pleasure. After you, Captain Sirocco…” he sketched her a bow and followed her out, half the gallery trailing.

* * * * *

As much as I would love to describe the duel that followed, one that I was told was a surprisingly savage but nearly even affair that ultimately ended in Sirocco’s victory, neither myself nor my commander witnessed it, deciding to stay with my now-crying mother.

“I am truly sorry for what happened, ma’am. You have raised a fine daughter and soldier, one I am honored to have under me,” Firefly told her, earning a few more sniffles in response. At any other point, I might have taken note of my commander’s favor, but ’twas simply not the time. She gave me leave to spend the rest of the night with my mother and I did not meet her again until the morning, when it was time to watch the sunrise and then return to Epsilon… In the company of not just one, but several honored guests. But that chapter of this tale I will leave to my Captain to tell.

Honored guests indeed! And indeed I will, though not just yet.

I thank you for relating this story, Blindside. Though I must say you were correct when you said it might reveal some surprising things—’tis certain I am more than a little shocked to find out what Mother said! She looked out for me in so many ways, but I had no idea that included identifying a mare who would one day become my lover and herdmate! But in fairness, perchance she saw before either of us truly did what might one day be, though ’twould be a very long time before it could happen. It strikes me now that none of the relationships I ever entered into were expected, yet somehow, looking back, they were all equally inevitable.

But that is a story for later. To this day, I remain impressed that you refrained from tearing that insulting stallion limb from limb, your mother’s presence or not. But as you say, ’tis always been your way to let your actions speak for you, and in the end, you were correct—you had nothing to prove to him, just as you by then had nothing to prove to me…

And nor, by the end of the war, did the gryphon who began as my bitterest rival… but whom I and all Equestria would one day call our greatest friend.

The Stage is Set—Europa Universalis IV

Thank you, Captain. Though there are times I am amazed I lived long enough for that to happen, no more so than when I departed the lands belonging to my rather unhumble and inhospitable hosts. My task was complete, and methinks I was never more relieved for a mission to be over as when I saw the tall spires and market tents of Saddle Arabia again.

Despite their threats and bluster, and despite the very real and frequent risk to my life my mere presence there presented, I had succeeded in negotiating the aid of our prospective allies over a period of two interminable weeks, negotiations that in the end boiled down to promises of rare riches and real revenge. I’d had to reveal a bit more about our plans than I or the Prelate would have liked, but ultimately I saw no danger they’d give up that information to the Equestrians or Celestia, who their leader already had ample reason to hate. He himself called the Prelate’s war plan ‘barely brilliant if appealingly bloody,’ but set some rather severe conditions for his aid… one of which was testing me in combat with three of his chosen champions, ordering me to first survive them and thus prove my race worthy of his help.

’Twas not easy but I did so, surprising him by wounding two. Satisfied with my efforts, he named his ultimate price for a pact. ’Twas far too high in my view, and I had no doubt the Empress would be less than pleased, but he had not lived so long without knowing when he had the advantage as he did here. He was fully aware of how desperately we needed his help, and thus demanded half the Empire’s treasury in addition to our original offer… as well as the right to dispose of Canterlot and Celestia as they saw fit once we had our victory.

In the end, with all his conditions acceded to, he granted us alliance… or so we hoped. “And how do we know you will keep your word?” I asked him at the end as he signed a document with a clawtip dipped in ink and gave me a very special gem to take back with me; one that would allow us to summon them when the time came.

“You do not,” he gave me a toothy grin that made me want to cringe to see the inside of his maw, for what I knew lay within. “It may yet please me more to let your invasion falter and Celestia burn your insignificant Empire to the ground so we may simply plunder your riches from its ruins.”

“If only you knew where they were,” I answered him attitude for attitude, “and if only we were not prepared to instantly deny them to you should you prove less than honorable as an ally,” I finished, and ’twas not an idle threat—the Prelate had planned for possible treachery; the source of said riches was well-defended even against their likes and could be magically demolished in an instant using a special spell should the need arise… a fact I then demonstrated by destroying a pile of gems with a simple gesture, reducing them to useless dust.

He laughed. “Methinks I like you, young warrior. You remind me of my daughter. Fearless in combat and ruthless in diplomacy; unafraid to speak back to your betters. Perchance I will even offer you the aid of her army as well,” he suggested casually, scratching his chin with his talons. “Having driven out the other clans eons ago, methinks ’tis been far too long since we have fought in open conflict, and your war may be an excellent training ground for our hatchlings, who seek the opportunity to stretch their wings and prove themselves,” he mused aloud. “When the time comes, I will put them under the leadership of my daughter and place them at your disposal. Until then, we will await your call. But ’twould be wise to not tarry too long, or we may yet find it more profitable to side against you.” He gave me another unpleasant grin.

“We will be at war by winter,” I told him, not about to give him the exact date even though I well knew it. “And when we do, we will need you to keep your word and cage Celestia immediately, before she can intervene…”

Author's Note

Taking a break from fighting for some character development and events in motion half a world away. A whiff of shipping, you say? Yes indeed. Relationships are a part of life, and being a soldier or writing a military epic doesn’t preclude them. You can think Denim_Blue for this ship; as he’d been suggesting it repeatedly and finally won me over. He had no idea I was doing it until he preread the chapter and was very pleasantly surprised!

Co-writer Leo Archon contributed large stretches of this chapter, writing most of Blindside’s section from the initial arrival at the ball to her confrontation with her father. He said that the more he wrote of Blindside's father, the more he wanted to strangle him, and I told him that meant he was doing it right.

Speaking of her father, something to be aware of—males don’t often fight in the Equestrian military, but at the same time, outside of the navy (which doesn't fight) it’s difficult to rise through the ranks without doing so. So when you see a stallion in command, the only way they could have gotten there is by proving themselves many times over in battles they weren’t even supposed to fight. In other words, Blindside’s father is an arrogant douchebag, but he’s not blowing smoke—he’s very good; good enough to make Captain and even give Sirocco a run. The irony of this whole situation is he rejected Blindside because he thought she couldn’t be a worthy successor to him, but part of the reason she’s so good is she did inherit some of his warrior ability. So she IS her father’s daughter, whether either realize or accept it right now. Expect him to be heard from again.

I’d also like to thank AJ_Aficionado for contributing some work on the descriptions of Saddle Arabia, which he’s given far more thought than I. It did flesh it out nicely. And of course, thanks go to SilentWoodfire and Denim_Blue for their editing passes and leaving their usual copious amount of comments on the doc. This one got chock full of them!

After this, the story will enter another interlude before the final run-up to war. The subject of the Interlude... will be Thunderbolt. However, since it’s already been stated he does not survive the war and cannot tell his story, it will be told in a rather unique way. Be looking for it in a few weeks, but until then I have to put in some additional work on my other stories. Hope you liked!

Interlude #3, Part 2: Vengeance and Wrath

Given the scope of the events surrounding the IS-2 incident, we made the decision to divide it into two parts: the destruction of the colony and the reports stemming from that, followed by the large-scale retaliation against the Lucavi raider group and its aftermath.

Before going on, however, I would like to say that the discovery of Legate Ampok’s actions in the previous chapter has made me happier than ever that I made the decision to befriend Gavian so long ago. Even in the Empire’s time, there were good and honorable gryphons, and to call them all irredeemable savages does a grave injustice to them.

Methinks, my Captain, you are referring to myself when you say this? I’m fully aware that my prior way of thinking of the Gryphons was wrong, but can you blame me, given my first true experience with them?

—Fell Flight

Not in the slightest, my dear friend. You were hardly unique in your thinking, and ’twould be a lie to say that I did not initially feel that way as well. But let us not dwell on that. Instead, let us reveal what remains to be seen of this incident. A warning to future readers; this is not a happy or heroic story in the slightest, nor was it meant to be. If you were expecting tales of military glory or a clean operation where everything is resolved neatly and fairly… I apologize in advance. For I am ashamed to say that in the end, ‘twas the Equestrian side that behaved dishonorably in the aftermath of the IS-2 incident, and none come off well for it.

Gryphon Empire

Equestria

Operation Phoenix Fire: Day One
November 18th, 1127 AE

The following are dispatches on the crystal communications network from Major General Avalanche to Outpost Orange, relayed in turn to both Canterlot and all Army and Aerial Corps border bases:

0715 hours: Operation Phoenix Fire has begun. We have crossed the line of departure with the rising of the sun; both Army and Corps forces are surging into gryphon territory along a broad front. The Lances report that as promised, the 6th Talon legion is nowhere to be seen. Black Hawk Base is deserted, and the border sensors are inoperative. In summary, Legate Ampok was as good as her word. We have achieved complete surprise and are advancing without resistance…

1030 hours: With the Corps flying cover and the morning mists masking us, the lead regiments of the 4th division have bloodlessly occupied the three nearest gryphon towns and farming cooperatives, or steadholts as they call them, finding only a few auxiliary guard troops to defend them, who were sleeping in their barracks. They were swiftly overcome and disarmed without incident, though a younger tiercel from a steadholt tried attacking a soldier with a blade. He was knocked out and then treated by a healer before being returned to his family, with the admonition to keep him inside. It pleases me to report that though frightened, the farmers and local civilians are already offering up intelligence. ‘Twould seem they hate the Lucavi group as much as we do…

1200 hours: First contact with Lucavi raiders has been made in the steadholt of Isca sixteen miles inside gryphon territory; they were identified by Lance recon teams, who then called in the Corps, who descended on their local hideout swiftly and burst inside, killing seven and capturing three. Several others tried to flee but were swiftly cut down by the Lances before they could raise an alarm. I regret to report the first pony death of the operation, as Private Chinook took a crossbow bolt to the chest and died at the scene.

1240 hours: Corps forces at Isca have been relieved by advancing Army troops, who have been marching hard all morning to reach a point twenty-five miles inside gryphon territory. Though our earth ponies are able to continue, our unicorns need to stop. As no gryphon mages are to be expected, I have directed the unicorns to rest and catch up later.

1350 hours: We have occupied the towns of Bafsk and Cyal only slightly behind schedule, though I fear this may worsen as Army troops are reporting having some trouble navigating roads given fragmentary intelligence on gryphon territory. Methinks I am also concerned that Corps forces are getting too far afield, and I have made that concern known to Captain Fairweather, who is having some trouble issuing orders to her far-flung units who are passing out of easy crystal communication range. We dare not increase their magic power or that would be lighting a beacon any gryphon mage could sense from fifty miles away. Am resorting to pegasus message runners borrowed from the Corps, which is an imperfect solution at best.

1610 hours:In our first real engagement, Corps forces belonging to the 3rd battalion were spotted and attacked by a score of Auxiliary Guard Troops based out of Amur, thirty miles inside of gryphon territory and nearing the westernmost Lucavi strongholds. Initial reports are fragmentary and an hour old, but ‘twould appear that some of their Guard soldiers bore the mark of the Lucavi, which is a potentially dangerous development if they have infiltrated the gryphon military. Notwithstanding orders to avoid engagement with Imperial troops, Corps soldiers fought back and slew the defenders, taking five casualties of their own, including two dead. Though regrettable, the Guard was not able to raise the alarm and our presence still goes undetected by the Lucavi strongholds at Altair and Altea as the Lances report no unusual activity at them.

1755 hours: Calling a halt to the advance as night nears to consolidate our position and gains. Night is their time, not ours, and I have ordered all troops to take a defensive posture. Regardless, we have advanced nearly thirty-five miles into gryphon territory, which, I will note, is further than we intended to go and spreading our forward forces uncomfortably thin. ‘Twould seem a prong of the Corps advance significantly exceeded its orders and forced the Army to rush in already-tired troops via naval transport to secure the Viale Steadholt when the Corps company in question invaded it several hours early upon spotting Lucavi members. They then found themselves in a sharp fight with nearly twenty raiders backed by an equal number of Auxiliary Guard troops. The combined force was overcome, but at cost; reports are still trickling in as of this hour.

Day 1 Battle Map

Operation Phoenix Fire, Final Day 1 Report

Prepared by Army Major General Avalanche
Commanding Officer, 4th Division

My Princess:

Initial incursion into gryphon territory has proceeded apace, reaching its apex at the Steadholt of Viale nearly thirty-five miles into Gryphon territory—indeed, that I am now writing this note from the captured village of Isca inside a hideout formerly used by the raiders ‘tis evidence enough of our progress.

Many steadholts and several larger gryphon villages have been occupied by first the Corps, then the Army. Although the villagers are frightened, we have made it clear we mean them no harm. Though understandably wary, they have generally accepted our presence; some have even volunteered information regarding the Lucavi group’s movements upon learning of our intent to stop their activities. ‘Twould seem that rumors regarding their brutality towards their own kind are not exaggerated; several gryphons have spoken already of losing loved ones to the raiders, for one reason or another; others claim their sons and daughters were impressed into their service, begging us to spare them.

We will do our best. At least forty Lucavi members have already been captured or killed, though we have not yet engaged their main force. Using intelligence gathered from the locals, we intend to pin the Lucavi group into their two main strongholds at Altair and Altea, cutting off their retreat and then crushing them with a surprise attack before they can get wind of our intentions. We already know some of their locations and movements thanks to the locals and the Lances, who have proven their worth this day with excellent reconnaissance work and by killing fleeing stragglers before they could raise an alarm.

‘Tis certain not all the news is good, however. We have suffered nearly thirty casualties thus far, including eight dead, the bulk of which occurred at Viale. On that subject, ‘twould seem the Corps 3rd battalion under the command of Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt has, against stated orders, advanced further into gryphon territory than was directed or is comfortable, beyond the reasonable reach of the Army by bringing on engagement with a larger combined Lucavi/Auxiliary Guard force at Viale halfway to the Lucavi headquarters at Altair.

That the two factions fought side-by-side and to the death bodes poorly, as does the more hostile reaction the deaths of reservist Guard troops provoked amongst the populace from which they were drawn. With apologies, My Princess, I am also forced to report the first civilian casualties of the campaign, as at least five were slain and many wounded in the fighting at Viale and our forces have earned further gryphon enmity for it.

We are patrolling the streets, conducting house-to-house searches for Lucavi members the residents of Viale are not cooperating in. Though unfortunate, it cannot now be helped. As such, we have ordered them to stay inside and have had no choice but to warn them that any attempting to resist or flee will be killed until the operation is complete. That has not stopped all of them, as a fresh report has reached my desk that the Lances have slain another six that evaded Corps patrols, all attempting to reach the town of Altair where the Lucavi headquarters resides. I apologize for such harsh measures, but I have no choice—if even one flyer slips through our net, the alarm will be raised and the results could be disastrous.

I have made clear to Captain Fairweather my worry and displeasure regarding Lieutenant Thunderbolt, who, ‘tis said by his subordinates, ignored orders to halt his advance and instead launched an immediate attack on Viale without proper preparation or Army support once he received reports that significant numbers of raiders were present. To be sure, his operation was a success, as he slew a dozen Lucavi members at Viale himself, some in particularly brutal fashion if the reports are to be believed. But for this, he turned a town against us and nearly gave away our presence, to say nothing of causing needlessly high casualties among the Corps troops he was leading. I realize that he witnessed horrors beyond imagining in the destruction of the IS-2 settlement, but I fear his actions are guided not by duty but by his anger and thirst for revenge.

I feel ‘tis not my place to overrule Captain Fairweather’s decision to retain him in command, as Thunderbolt is not part of my service. Yet I fear his actions may threaten the security of our operations, and I can only hope that he does not lose himself in the battles to come.

On a final note, I have ordered elements of our reserve, the 3rd division, to advance to relieve the 4th division. This is so that the greater weight of the 4th division can be concentrated on our spearheads, as ‘twould seem we face heavy combat ahead.

Signed,

Major General Avalanche
Equestrian Army
Occupied Gryphon Village Isca

Plan of attack: Day 2

Operation Phoenix Fire: Day 2

November 19th, 1127 AE

The following are reports issued and received by Captain Fairweather, commander of the 5th division and deputy commander of Operation Phoenix Fire leading Corps troops, on the second day of the offensive as recorded by her adjutant:

0540 hours:After a busy and somewhat sleepless night, particularly around Viale, lead Corps forces have been rousted and ordered to take a quick meal before standing to and resuming the advance. I have admonished commanders to not exceed their instructions and operate in concert with the Army, reminding them that a joint attack will be required to quickly invest and destroy the raider strongholds. As heavy urban combat and a greater aerial threat is expected, we are also bringing up storm cloud detachments to provide lightning support to reduce their installations quickly should they go to ground within them.

0550 hours: Addendum: Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt assures me he is fit for duty and will act within the confines of his orders, so for now, he remains in charge of 3rd battalion despite warnings from First Lieutenant Squall Line that he is mentally unbalanced and should be relieved. The basic plan remains the same, with a full war strength battalion of six hundred Pegasi advancing on both wings; the left wing with the 3rd battalion commanded by Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt, and on the right with the 6th battalion commanded by First Lieutenant Squall Line. This serves the dual purpose of allowing the pair to lead major elements of the retaliatory strikes as they both all but begged to, and also keeps them safely apart. As to the communication difficulties we were having, I am trying to keep units within ten miles of each other so messages can be relayed among the crystal network without increasing their power or resorting to message flyers, but this is difficult given the fluid nature of our movements.

0630 hours: Orders issued and aerial advance resuming through a low cloud deck helping to hide our forces. As per General Avalanche’s battle plans, we aim to encircle the Lucavi stronghold towns of Altair and Altea and cut off their retreat while they’re still sleeping, pinning them in their bases and attacking in concert with Army forces by midafternoon. If all goes well, surprise can still be achieved, and the Lucavi group will be substantially crushed by nightfall with little loss.

0715 hours: 6th battalion has occupied Manif on schedule and without resistance; First Lieutenant Squall Line reports catching the gryphon reservists in their beds and capturing a dozen raiders at a watering hole the locals told him they frequented. The 4th division’s 2nd brigade is moving to their relief as First Lieutenant Squall Line readies his forces to capture Sariv next. Methinks the right wing of the advance is going well.

0740 hours: Received late word that the Army advance on the left is delayed as march order is sorted out on narrow roads. I have advised General Avalanche that Corps forces are already advancing and cannot be recalled; once ground is taken it must be kept or those gryphons present within it will certainly escape to raise the alarm.

0845 hours: The 4th division has resumed advancing, though in lesser numbers due to a larger occupation force needed at Viale to keep the population pacified. General Avalanche assures me that three regiments from the 1st and 3rd brigades will still be available for the main operation against Altair, but advises a two-hour delay in its projected launch time given the difficulties in moving his troops forward. I’ve warned him that this will lead to a night engagement, where casualties will be higher and gryphon night vision will lend them an advantage; he assures me that Army unicorns can and will illuminate the scene.

0920 hours:First combat of the morning has occurred in Squall Line’s sector, where he is now moving to encircle the Lucavi stronghold of Altea by capturing the village of Sariv, ten miles to the town’s northeast outskirts. To his credit, he moved quickly to take advantage of recon reports received from Lance Team Three, and with their timely intelligence swiftly overcame resistance in the village, his lead company capturing a large Auxiliary Guard barracks and slaying a score of raiders with nary an arrow fired in defense. ‘Twas a textbook operation, and whatever cloud he is under for the IS-2 attack, ‘tis certain he is performing superbly here, having taken all his objectives on schedule and with minimal casualties. The gryphon reservists are now being held in the jail pending completion of the operation; as they were not harmed, thus far the civilians of Sariv are accepting our presence and offering aid, unlike Viale.

0945 hours: Follow up report from Squall Line. Though the villagers are generally grateful for lifting the yoke of the Lucavi, others are hostile. He feels a single Corps company is insufficient to hold down the village should raider reinforcements appear, and thus he requests immediate reinforcements of his own. I have requested priority on naval transports to get Army troops into the area, but Avalanche says they’re being used to ferry more 4th division troops forward from the rear to reinforce his spearheads. Though I find that of dubious merit, he is the overall commander. In the meantime, I have dispatched a platoon from the 4th battalion to reinforce Squall Line’s force. My own forces are being stretched thin right now during the encirclement operations, enough that I’ve ordered up our reserve 2nd battalion; I dare not pull the bulk of 4th battalion’s air cover from any occupied towns or the Army would not be able to keep the Gryphon residents from escaping or attacking by air.

1100 hours: The western prong of the advance has run into trouble at Rial, finding a larger-than-expected force; heavy fighting has erupted. Worse, skies are clearing and the city is in visual range of Lucavi headquarters at Altair.

1110 hours: Lance Team Two reports they advised Thunderbolt of the century-sized forces he faced and to wait for Army support, only to be ignored. Further fragmentary reports suggest that he overrode the objections of his own subordinates to order the attack, many of whom now say he is acting on the basis of his emotions and without any regard to gryphon lives or their own. As a result, 3rd battalion is now heavily engaged and I fear all opportunity for surprise is lost. I have therefore ordered Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt relieved of command and arrested for dereliction of duty, failure to obey lawful orders, and conduct unbecoming an officer.

1115 hours:3rd battalion reports a very unpleasant surprise—the presence of two off-duty magus knights in Rial which are now inflicting heavy casualties upon them and starting to drive them back. Will move up weather teams, but advise General Avalanche we need Army and especially unicorn support NOW!

1140 hours:Mages slain by Lieutenant Thunderbolt. How, I don’t know, but he is now ignoring orders and continuing to lead the advance of 3rd battalion, carving a bloody swath through the large Lucavi force at Rial. Casualties are very heavy on both sides, and there is no way in Tartarus the sights and sounds of fighting could not have reached the main raider base at Altair.

1245 hours: Lance Team Six reports that surprise has indeed been lost—alarms and call to arms have been sounded at the two main Lucavi strongholds of Altair and Altea; dozens of messengers are going out in every direction, more than the Lances or available Corps forces can kill at once. Expect the Talons to learn of our operations by nightfall, and close on our positions by daybreak. Have advised General Avalanche to press his advance quickly; we have to end this before the Talons can intervene!

1430 hours:With our forces still heavily engaged at Rial, I am going forward to personally arrest Thunderbolt and assume command of our forward forces, over Avalanche’s objections. He is blaming me for Thunderbolt’s actions and the subsequent loss of surprise, and perchance he is right as I failed to relieve him sooner. Nevertheless, he, too, has made some questionable decisions; Army support has been slow in coming due to his insistence of emphasizing mass over tempo. Numbers don’t matter if they aren’t far enough forward to affect the outcome of the battle!

1520 hours:I’ve arrived on scene at Rial and found a bloody mess. The town is nearly taken, but almost half of the 3rd battalion was lost and the village now lies in ruins with bodies of Corps soldiers, Lucavi raiders, Auxiliary guard troops, and worse, civilians lying everywhere; those who survive are now sniping at us from clouds and alleyways with crossbows after our indiscriminate attack. Thunderbolt is nowhere to be found, pressing the advance eastward with the remains of the 3rd battalion towards Altair, and all I can do now his join his effort with the 2nd battalion. We have but hours before the Talons intervene.

1630 hours:The first army troops have arrived on scene as once again, the unicorns couldn’t keep up with the pace of march. Naval transports are being re-prioritized to bring them forward, but now we have to wait to launch an attack with the sun setting and the enemy rapidly barricading themselves inside their towns and amongst civilians. They’ve seen our numbers and know they can’t win, so they’re doing exactly what I would do in their place—going to ground and digging in as deep as they can, hoping to hold out long enough for the Talons to save them. Far from the surprise attack against an unprepared enemy we envisioned, we will have to rout them out street by street, structure by structure—something the Corps is simply not good at, so the Equestrian Army must take the lead.

1715 hours:Having untangled my command, I must report the 3rd battalion is fought out, having suffered over 50% casualties in taking Rial, so the reserve 2nd battalion combined with elements of Squall Line’s 6th battalion must take the lead in concert with the three advancing regiments of the 4th division’s 1st and 3rd brigades, who Avalanche expects to have in place for an attack on both strongholds by 2200 hours. With as much time as we’ve lost and the Talons likely alerted, ‘tis a grave worry that we will not have sufficient time to complete the Lucavi group’s destruction before the Talons arrive…

1730 hours: I finally found Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt, who point-blank refused my order to submit himself to arrest, saying he would neither rest nor stop fighting until his friends were avenged. The look in his eyes… was one of pure rage and bloodlust, and ‘tis certain it chilled me to the bone. Whoever he was, he was no longer a mere pegasus, he was a demon of vengeance who would not be stopped by anyone, gryphon or pony. I have stripped him of his command but will allow him to continue to participate in the attack for no other reason than that I fear he will try to kill anypony who arrests him.

1815 hours:No sign of the Talons yet. Thank the sun for small favors. Given his good performance thus far, I have requested First Lieutenant Squall Line be placed in charge of the attack on Altea, giving him command of the 6th battalion and two regiments of the 4th division’s 2nd brigade. The brigade commander has objected, but I convinced Avalanche to give the order.

2200 hours:Avalanche himself has arrived on the scene to lead the attack on Altair. Again, I think this is foalish, as an operational commander, particularly a stallion one, should not be risking himself at the front. But he is adamant that he expose himself along with the soldiers, and perchance atone for his own mistakes.

Day 2: Actual Events

Operation Phoenix Fire: Climactic Phase

November 19-20, 1127 AE

The following are reports issued and received by various soldiers and commanders taking part in the attack on Altair. They are harried, fragmentary and often emotion-driven, in direct reflection of the savage fighting happening in the town that night.

2235 hours:The main attacks on the Lucavi strongholds are going in, well over eight hours late, in darkness against an entrenched and dangerous foe. My reports will become more sporadic from here on out as I lead my forces into combat. —General Avalanche

2315 hours: Sir, beg to report that Lucavi forces are fighting hard, knowing full well that defeat means death! We’ve already driven them out of a dozen positions, but dozens more remain, including the group’s headquarters, which is about as sturdy as anything we’ve ever seen! Corps lightning barely dents it, and unicorn explosive arrows aren’t doing much either! —Master Sergeant Arrowhead, 3rd company, 2nd regiment

0000 hours November 20: Tell the General that the fighting in my sector is bloody and bitter, and we’re paying for every block we take! Unicorn flares are illuminating the battlefield, but they only do so much; we’re losing soldiers to attacks out of dark alleys and tunnels the group apparently dug for this very occasion! And somepony tell the Corps to get their flanks down here to take out crossbow snipers firing explosive-tipped arrows from high perches! They’ve killed Colonel Plowshares and their hit-and-fly tactics are inflicting dozens of casualties! —Major Rock Biter, acting commander, 2nd regiment

0050 hours:In case we weren’t motivated enough to finish the job, I must report in anger and sorrow that we found the remains of butchered and half-eaten ponies in the latest position! Forward, soldiers of Equestria, and make these craven chickenhawks PAY! —Sky Sergeant Gustnado, ranking enlisted, 2nd battalion, 5th Corps Division.

0120 hours:General, despite heavy casualties and stubborn resistance, we are starting to make solid progress into the town center. We are reducing individual strongpoints and sniper perches with lightning strikes, called by unicorns who pinpoint targets with magical beams that the Corps weather teams can easily see. We have thus solved one issue of Corps/Army coordination, at least! The Corps is only of limited use otherwise, providing top cover and hitting targets of opportunity—to little surprise, the Lucavi raiders are not flying but fighting from the ground, knowing taking to the air is suicide given there are unicorn archers below and a fresh Corps battalion overhead—but otherwise the Equestrian Army is doing the bulk of the fighting, and in my not-so-humble opinion, fighting well! —Lieutenant Copperhead, platoon commander, 3rd regiment, 4th division.

0215 hours:General—First Lieutenant Squall Line reports that Altea has fallen to his combined Army/Corps force with relatively few casualties, having taken out ‘over a century’ of Lucavi raiders and capturing half that many more; he further reports a few raiders tried to flee but were quickly cut down. He is now engaged in mopping-up activities, and with his battalion relatively intact, reports he can spare an Army company and Corps platoon for our effort. I have ordered him instead to start conducting combat air patrols to his east and north to keep watch for escaping Lucavi members and advancing Talons, and warn us immediately if the latter approach. If the Talons do appear, he is to send word and fall back on Sariv whilst requesting immediate parley, only engaging if attacked. After how badly we botched this operation, one we were invited to perform, I fear they will be out for blood. If so, I will offer myself up for punishment in exchange for my forces. —Captain Fairweather

0345 hours: ALERT! Large Talon force approaching from the northwest! Tentatively identified as four cohorts of 3rd Talon legion. Lance Team 2 is going to ground. Will be last contact as further communications may be picked up by approaching mages. Good luck and be ready! —Master Sergeant Silent Night, Commander, Black Lance Team 2

0355 hours:Captain, we have received additional alerts from Lance Teams three and seven, as well as my own patrols. Significant portions of two Talon legions are closing in on us from the north and east and will arrive by daybreak! Will redeploy as ordered and request parley, but strongly advise you finish the job quickly and be prepared to break off the attack if not! Methinks we’re running out of time! —First Lieutenant Squall Line, commander, 6th battalion, 5th Corps division.

0400 hours: General, the Talons are coming and coming quickly. We have but one hour to conclude this operation before we have to redeploy to meet them! The Lucavi group headquarters and a hundred raiders barricaded inside are all that’s left! I will dispatch all our weather teams and request your unicorns mass their power to make a breach as well. We need to finish this NOW! —Captain Fairweather

After-Action report: The Last Stand of the Lucavi

November 20th, 1127 AE

The following after-action report was made by Sky Sergeant Gustnado, ranking enlisted mare of the 2nd battalion who took part in the final attack on the Lucavi group headquarters and witnessed the actions of Lieutenant Thunderbolt firsthoof. ‘Tis worth noting that she was awarded the Sapphire Sun for her actions that day, so these are the measured words of a veteran warrior, not the exaggerated stories of a frightened fledgling.

‘Twas nearly 0415 in the morning when our final orders came. Whether Army or Corps, unicorn, earth pony or pegasus, we were tired, we were wounded, and too many of us had already fallen in this fight. And now that we were told that as the Talons were coming, if we did not finish the job and take the Lucavi group headquarters in less than an hour, we never would, and all our efforts might be for naught.

With nearly a hundred members of the group still holed up inside, including Mistress Altima and the rest of the group leadership, and the well-built structure having resisted our best efforts to reduce it, that was a tall order, but we obeyed as best we could. Army and Corps soldiers concentrated at the outside entrances, intending to mass their lightning, explosive arrows and magical attacks to make a breach, but in the end, ’twas not necessary.

Ignoring orders and his injuries yet again—he’d taken several wounds in the course of the day but somehow kept fighting—Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt simply grabbed a storm cloud from its weather team and somehow charged it up, kneading it in an odd motion as an audible crackle built, then targeted it directly on the barricaded entrance.

What followed was an unreal display of lightning strikes as a series of massive bolts blew open the front door, and then he triggered the cloud to go into continuous strikes in every direction, causing the rest of us to duck as he threw it into the opening he made, the massive lightning storm in the closed space likely killing every raider in reach. Once the cloud was spent, he rushed inside in its wake, charging down the hallway that led underground. Defenders further back were ready, but it hardly mattered as he refused to stop his assault, slaying everything he encountered along the way.

I fear I cannot even begin to adequately describe what I saw; an incredible and otherworldly display of sheer rage and combat ability. ‘Twas as if he was born to kill, as he seemed to do so instinctively. I am given cause to wonder whether ‘twas more battle brilliance or just sheer savagery as every strike was parried, every ambush avoided, every attack turned back on its owner, who invariably ended up dead, leaving a trail of three dozen corpses as he went. He slew everything before him, no matter how many he faced at once, and to my horror did not discriminate between raider or civilian, adult or hatchling, even those clearly held hostage or being used as shields. All fell to his blades, and there was nothing any of us could do to stop him.

We followed, but there was little for us to do until he burst into the underground chamber where Mistress Altima was. He flew right into an ambush and took two crossbow bolts, but acted like he barely felt them, then ignored the flanking raiders to charge for her, the angry and agonized scream he emitted upon sighting her telling us all he recognized her.

Whilst we dealt with her four remaining bodyguards, who we later learned to our misfortune were all former Knights as they fought savagely and took out over a dozen of us before falling to variously spears, wingblades or unicorn arrows, Thunderbolt engaged Altima’s final line of defense, a former Raven eagless who served as her personal bodyguard, dual-wielding scimitars as her mistress tried to escape through another tunnel. She lasted longer than most, which was to say not very, as despite her obvious skill he took her down in less than six seconds, decapitating her before pounding on the door the mistress had fled through.

We pulled him away just long enough for an explosive arrow to blow the door open, and, using a purloined shield, he charged down the corridor without waiting for the rest of us again. We did not see what happened after that, only its aftermath, where we came across him on his knees and sobbing, Mistress Altima lying at his hooves and slain with her own sword. Her face was contorted in an expression of terror and agony, her now-stuck open eyes fixed on the sword that impaled her chest. Whatever demon had possessed him let go at that moment, and suddenly he saw all he had done and could not bear it; his cries of grief and pain still echo in my ears. I might have felt sorry for him if I was not so utterly terrified of him, and I can only pray that the creature he became never reemerges again.

Such was the end of Mistress Altima, and was swiftly followed by the end of all remaining resistance inside. Within half an hour, the headquarters building was taken and the Lucavi group was no more. Our mission was accomplished, but we had little time to celebrate or mourn our losses, even were we inclined to. For the Talons were coming, and methinks we were now in no shape to face them…

Message to Major General Avalanche from Corps Commander
November 20th, 1127 AE at 0735 hours

General:

With the offensive phase of our operation concluded, I am redeploying Corps forces as quickly as possible to meet multiple Talon threats, but ‘tis certain my pegasi are exhausted from nearly a full day of constant fighting and would likely fare poorly in battle with them.

To my relief, the gryphons have accepted our offer of parley and I am flying to Sariv to meet the Talon commander. I will do what I can, but take defensive positions and prepare your soldiers for the worst. If I do not return, ‘tis been an honor to serve with you.

Signed,

Fairweather,
Captain, 5th Division
Equestrian Aerial Corps

Parley between Captain Fairweather and commander of 5th Talon Legion

November 20th, 1127 AE at 0755 hours

The following transcript was taken from magic-recorded memory by an EIS-affiliated unicorn present at Parley between Captain Fairweather and the commander of the 5th Talon Legion beginning at 0755 hours outside of Sariv:

Unnamed Tribune: I am Tribune Vancel Diyali, acting commander of the 5th Talon Legion.

Captain Fairweather: And where is Legate Ampok?

Tribune Diyali: Arrested for gross dereliction of duty and possible treason along with her aides. And as we now find thousands of ponies nearly twenty leagues inside Gryphon territory, having wantonly attacked our towns and civilians, can you give me any reason why I should not order my forces to destroy yours, Captain?

Captain Fairweather:Do not act as if you are the aggrieved party, Tribune. You know full well why we are here, and you insult all present by pretending otherwise. Your refusal to acknowledge or punish those responsible for the atrocity at the Inland Shores settlement was what drew this response, and do not act as if you wouldst have done any differently in our place.

Tribune Diyali: Then by your own logic, should I not then take vengeance for the destruction of entire towns and civilian casualties far exceeding yours, wiping out the offending force and then invading pony territory to exact a full measure of retribution?

Captain Fairweather: Spare me the sanctimony, Tribune. I remind you again that your side started this with a massacre of pony civilians and disarmed soldiers, and ‘twas your equally dishonorable denial of those events that forced our hooves. We did what we must to end the Lucavi threat to our settlements since you wouldst not. Had you simply acknowledged the attack and took action against the group yourselves, none of this would have been necessary.

Tribune Diyali: And by the same token, had you simply respected the border and not established illegal settlements in Imperial Lands, we would not now be standing here.

Captain Fairweather: That those were Imperial lands is a matter of dispute, Tribune, and one that should have been resolved through diplomacy, not through hired mercenaries! If you are asking for an apology, you will not receive one, and do not expect an easy fight should you elect to engage us. ‘Twould in fact be pointless anyway. As our mission is complete, I offer you our immediate and unconditional withdrawal from Imperial territory.

Tribune Diyali: You are outnumbered and exhausted whilst my forces are fresh, Captain. Methinks you are in no position to dictate terms.

Captain Fairweather: Be that as it may, an attack could easily result in open war, Tribune. Do you truly wish to risk that? If so, you will find not just us but all of Equestria quite ready. In place of a bloody and pointless border war over a series of events caused by Imperial intransigence, I am offering you a peaceful removal of our forces. ‘Twas never our intention to hold Imperial territory, only destroy the Lucavi group, and that mission is now fulfilled. But if you doubt our intentions, then I offer myself up into your custody, as a hostage held against our promised withdrawal.

First Lieutenant Squall Line and others: Captain!

Tribune Diyali: I will have to consult my superiors on this matter, but until then I accept your offer. In the meantime, you are directed to cease all offensive action and stand down your forces.

Captain Fairweather: Yes to your first request, no to your second. We will take a defensive posture, but be assured we will respond to any attack on our forces. First Lieutenant Squall Line, as you are the ranking Corps officer and have performed superbly in command of the 6th battalion, you will replace me as deputy to General Avalanche and assume command of all Corps troops. My final orders to you are this: You will screen the withdrawal of all Army forces and then do so yourself in good order. But should the Talons attack or threaten to, you will barricade our captured towns the same as the Lucavi did and fight until relieved or overrun.

First Lieutenant Squall Line: Understood, ma’am.

Captain Fairweather:Very well then. I am your prisoner, Tribune, and for all our sakes, I do hope your superiors consider the consequences of their actions carefully…

Message to Major General Avalanche from Acting Corps Commander
November 20th, 1127 AE at 0850 hours

General:

‘Tis with great trepidation I must report that Captain Fairweather has willingly surrendered herself to Talon custody. She did so in an attempt to stay a counterattack and demonstrate that we have no intention of staying in Imperial territory, naming me her replacement as the attached order will show. Thus far, the Talons have not struck but are clearly reconnoitering, probing all along our lines.

I am untangling and reorganizing remaining Corps forces as best I can, but we are far from fresh and nowhere near full strength. As such, even with Army support, ‘tis unlikely at best my four understrength battalions can resist a determined assault by the better part of two Talon legions. To leave defensive positions and attempt withdrawal in their face would only invite attack, in my view, so I strongly recommend we stay put until the gryphons decide what to do.

Consider this a hard-learned lesson from a terrible mistake ‘tis certain I have no intention of ever repeating.

Signed,

First Lieutenant Squall Line
Acting Commander, 5th Division
Equestrian Aerial Corps

Reply to Acting Corps Commander from Major General Avalanche:
November 20th, 1127 AE at 0905 hours

Lieutenant:

Your message is received and understood, though ‘tis certain I cannot but shake my head at it. As you have clearly gained your Captain’s confidence through excellent leadership of the attacks on Sariv and Altea, I will respect her judgment and accept you as my deputy, even as I now pray for her safe return.

Your recommendation is sound. I am likewise setting our defenses and have ordered all our forces to dig in, but I must insist the Corps continue to patrol the perimeter to provide early warning of any Talon strike. ‘Tis now but a waiting game, and we must be ready for anything.

Signed,

Major General Avalanche
Commander, 4th Division
Equestrian Army

Message to Equestrian forces from 5th Talon Legion Commander
Delivered under flag of truce November 20th at 1730 hours

To the Equestrian Commander:

To the disgust of me and my soldiers, we have been directed by our senior leadership to allow your unhindered withdrawal from Imperial territory, as the attached order will show. Said withdrawal is to commence immediately upon receipt of this document on the same roads you came in on, and to be completed by sundown tomorrow.

We will accept no excuses; any forces left behind in gryphon territory after that hour will be attacked. We will be watching, and any attempt at stalling will not be tolerated. We further expect your Auxiliary Guard prisoners to be released as you depart the towns they were captured in, and your Lucavi group captives to be turned over to us. They will be tried by civilian tribunals and if found guilty of what you claim, they will be executed. That is all the assurance I can give you. And far more than you deserve.

Captain Fairweather is unharmed and will be returned to you only after every last pony has left Imperial territory. Be assured she will be slain should you fail to obey these terms…

And be assured that should you ever attempt such an invasion of Gryphon lands again, our response will be far less restrained.

Signed,

Tribune Vancel Diyali
Acting Commander
5th Talon Legion

Celestial General Order #2108

Issued by Princess Celestia November 24th, 1127 AE

To the officers and soldiers of the Equestrian Armed Forces:

It pleases me to report that Operation Phoenix Fire was a success, resulting in the near-total destruction of the Lucavi group and ending the raider threat to the Inland Shores settlements. Those Army and Aerial Corps soldiers who participated in the operation are to be commended for their determination, valor, and warrior spirit for carrying out offensive operations under short notice and limited intelligence, rapidly penetrating fifty miles into gryphon territory, finding and smashing the group in just three days’ time. Equestria and your princess are grateful for your efforts, and recognize the scope of your accomplishments as well as the difficult circumstances under which they were carried out.

However, with these thanks must come a severe rebuke. Though the operation’s objectives were met, I am gravely disappointed by the conduct of our forces in gryphon territory. With several hundred civilians dead or wounded and entire towns destroyed, I cannot but note that the operation in fact inflicted many times more death and damage to innocents than we suffered at our settlement, and the gryphons have every right to be infuriated for it.

We were invited into their territory to end a threat to both sides, with the admonishment that we make our strikes surgical and respect their citizens. These conditions were categorically not fulfilled, and ‘twas only by the grace of Harmony and the cool heads of the gryphon leadership that full-scale war did not erupt over our excesses. Excesses that may yet result in disciplinary actions, up to and including court-martial on murder charges of soldiers found to have deliberately or wantonly killed gryphon civilians.

I will direct the Equestrian High Council for Military Affairs to investigate the operation and identify such individuals, as well as examine the operational shortcomings in order to make recommendations for reforms in both the Army and Aerial Corps. ‘Tis clear to me that failures of coordination and communication were numerous, and individual ponies exceeding their orders compromised the operation, tipping our hoof and forcing a far more difficult fight against an entrenched enemy. I acknowledge the fact that the Lucavi group barricaded themselves amongst civilians in an effort to buy time and cause enough civilian casualties to force the Talons to intervene, but it need not have come to this with proper cooperation between services and greater discipline on the part of individual soldiers. Surprise was lost, and both pony soldiers and innocent gryphons needlessly paid the price.

I have ordered that significant reparations be made to the Gryphon Empire for this attack, and I will further recommend full ratification of the agreement of 1108 AE to be presented to the Gryphons at parley, with a formal redrawing of the borders to officially cede the tidewater area between branches of the Delamare River to the Empire.

And last but not least, I will visit the remaining Inland Shores colonists personally to request they abandon their settlements before their presence becomes a flashpoint yet again.

Signed,
Princess Celestia Daybringer,
Diarch of Equestria
Canterlot

Royal Visit to Inland Shores Settlements

November 30, 1127 AE

The following is an account of Princess Celestia’s visit to the IS-1 colony, as written by the Princess herself upon conclusion of the IS-2 incident:

With the news of the Lucavi group’s destruction at the combined hooves of the Corps and the Army, there remained but one order of business; the relocation of the remaining two settlements. However, ’twould seem that some of my little ponies are truly stubborn and set in their ways; no amount of requests, recommendations, or even outright orders from Corps or Army officers caused either settlement to budge. According to Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt, both settlements cite the Army and Corps presence in the area as the true source of destabilization, and have requested that Outposts Orange and Beta be abandoned, ‘so as to not allow such a tragedy as befell our brothers and sisters to repeat itself’.

While ‘tis rare that I involve myself in civilian matters such as these, methinks I had little choice. ‘Twas clear that the settlements would not listen to reason from the armed forces; ‘twas also clear that, so long as they existed in the marshlands, the gryphons would never leave them be. So, with my new High Chancellor in tow, I made my way to the Inland Shores colony known on military charts as ‘IS-1’. Such designations had never sat well with me; I much preferred the collective name of ‘Inland Shores’, as ‘IS-1’ sounded clinical and demeaning.

At any rate, I arrived at the colony to great fanfare, as was the wont of my little ponies. ‘Tis something I wish would change; I have no great desire to be lauded and praised wherever I go. Making my way to the town square, where a podium had been set up for me, I looked over the village of seventy ponies, each whispering excitedly to one another. I flared my wings for silence, and began.

“My little ponies, I come to you today so that I may ask you for a favor. I realize you endured hardship to settle in this region, and you have made it clear that you have no wish to leave. Yet I must ask you this; is this area truly worth dying for? Is it worth forcing others to die for? Your sister colony lies in ruin, its residents slain nearly to the last, and its defenders killed in its protection. Is such a cost truly worth these dismal lands?”

There was much muttering and grumbling, before the mayor of the colony stepped forward. “My Princess, we understand that you trust in your armed forces, but we are cut from a different cloth. We believe the presence of military might in this area was what led to the destruction of our sisters and brothers. While we weep for them, ‘tis not their fault. This land is, by rights, Equestria’s, but we are not adverse to open relations with the gryphons. We would, in fact, welcome it, but for the presence of armed ponies not five miles distant. If the Corps and the Army would withdraw their armed forces, we believe that the gryphons would do the same.”

I regarded him with bewilderment; surely he was not so naive? “Mayor, ‘twas no fault of the Corps or Army that led to the destruction of your sister colony. Nor, I grant, was it the fault of the Imperial military. ‘Twas the result of an overzealous raider group going above and beyond their usual methods that caused such a tragedy. This was something none of those under me could have foreseen. To lay the blame at the hooves of those who died defending your brothers and sisters is to do their memory a grave injustice.”

The mayor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The only injustice is that you rely on force of arms to maintain peace with the gryphons. For one who promotes the ideals of peace and harmony, ‘tis slightly hypocritical that you shield yourself behind armed mares and stallions, my Princess.”

This earned him narrowed eyes from my guards, as well as High Chancellor North Star. “Watch your tongue, mayor,” she warned him. “You forget yourself.”

I raised a wing in her direction, indicating silence, before turning back to the mayor, my own eyes impassive. “The gryphons respect military might, mayor. Withdrawing our forces from the border would be a sign of great weakness on our parts, and many more ponies would suffer under the resulting invasion.”

“Perchance if you wouldst simply speak with them—“ he began.

“We have tried, mayor, on numerous occasions,” I interrupted. “All attempts at ratifying a formal peace treaty, one with disarmed borders, have been rebuffed. The gryphons refuse to leave their border bases, and so long as they have their armed forces so close to our frontier, we must do likewise.”

“One might argue, my Princess, that merely having our forces in such close proximity is inherently dangerous,” he pointed out. “Wars have begun in such a manner in the past.”

“I cannot deny that,” I admitted. “But your presence in these disputed lands is not helping matters in the slightest.”

“These lands are Equestria’s by rights, My Princess. They were never formally ceded to the Empire,” the mayor said. “I did my research before choosing this location to settle. The gryphons can bluster all they wish, but at day’s end, ‘tis not our fault.”

“That will soon change, mayor,” I replied, beginning to feel exasperated with this obstinate pony before me. “As part of our reparations to the Empire, the treaty of 1108 AE will be formally ratified by the Equestrian High Council, ceding these lands to the Gryphon Empire.” Here, the mayor’s jaw fell open, as did many ponies’ in the crowd. I continued on, “Your settlements were made while these lands were in dispute, thus triggering this entire tragic affair. ‘Twas akin to prodding a timberwolf with a stick and hoping it does not bite you.”

Recovering his composure, he merely arched an eyebrow at me. “One might consider that the armed forces were the stick in question, my Princess. The Corps garrison at our sister colony was an ill-placed move.”

“And I would remind you that they fell defending your sister colony to nearly the last soldier. Thirty-nine well-trained soldiers were slain in defense of your brothers and sisters, and hundreds more are dead and injured to end the group that committed the crime.”

‘Twas then that the mayor made a tremendous blunder. “Such senseless waste. Had the garrison never been there in the first place, ‘tis likely they and our sister colony would yet live.”

I narrowed my eyes at that. “And what, precisely, are you implying…?”

“I imply nothing, my Princess. I am outright saying that the Corps, by garrisoning troops at our colony, invited disaster. That the Corps garrison was the true target of the raiders’ aggressions, and that our colony perished solely for being in the crossfire!”

‘Twas rare that I could feel such white-hot fury. Rarer still that it be directed towards one of my little ponies. Yet this stallion had crossed a line. ‘Twas time to remind him that he was not as knowledgeable as he thought.

I stepped off the podium to stand before the mayor directly, managing to keep a calm face despite my ire. “Are you daft, Mayor? A direct threat of violence had been levied against your sister colony. ‘Twas that action that prompted Lieutenant Squall Line to send the garrison in the first place, with the permission of that settlement’s mayor. They were even disarmed, all to placate your naive notion that force of arms merely brings conflict.”

I had touched a nerve with that one; several ponies in the audience grumbled in displeasure. The mayor narrowed his eyes at me. “Even disarmed, they were military ponies. And threat or no, our sister colony did not need the protection of a royal-sanctioned military force that rewards armed conflict! In the end, our brothers and sisters died because of your military’s bloodlust!”

That was the final straw. Tapping into the sun, I allowed my mane and tail to ignite, and my eyes to glow with my power. “ENOUGH!” I thundered, my voice echoing across the swamplands; I was certain that the other remaining settlement could hear me loud and clear, to say nothing of the gryphon forces at Black Hawk Base. The mayor scrambled back, clearly alarmed.

“We have listened to thee disparage Our armed forces enough, Mayor. That thou shouldst say thy friends died because of Our Corps is a grave insult, both to thy friends and to Our forces! Dost thou truly believe that thy friends would still live, had the Corps not been there? Then thou art a foal! The threat was levied against thy sister colony, not the Corps itself! The raiders took advantage of their disarmed state; a state they were only in because thee and thy fellow colonies refused to allow them to defend themselves properly! They serve and protect all Equestria, thou misanthropic buffoon, if thou wouldst but let them!”

Feeling confident that I had well and truly gotten their attention with a rare display of rage and use of the Royal Canterlot Voice, I reined in my power, returning my appearance to normal. “I had come here to ask you to leave peacefully. ‘Twas my hope that I could persuade you of the folly of staying. But ‘tis now apparent my hopes were in vain. Therefore, I am changing my request into a royal order: The Inland Shores colonies are to be disbanded, posthaste, and their residents relocated to no fewer than ten miles within the Equestrian border. The settlements must be completely evacuated within forty-eight hours, and the evacuation will be monitored by the Royal Guard, led by Master Sergeant Ironsides.” I nodded at the well-built earth pony stallion, who saluted in response. Turning back to the mayor, I added my final judgement.

“If anypony is found here after those forty-eight hours are over, they are to be considered in violation of the border with the gryphons, and detained at Outpost Orange for provoking conflict. And after that...?”

I paused only to smile thinly. “And after that, as this is shortly to become gryphon territory, you return at your own peril. And be assured that when the gryphons come to kill you, nopony will lift a hoof or horn in your defense.”

With that, I turned on my heel and strode back to my chariot, my Celestial Guards flanking me as Ironsides began barking orders to the Royal Guards and other military forces. As we took off for the IS-3 settlement, I sighed. ‘Twas hard to be a benevolent ruler when my own ponies refused to cooperate in the face of all evidence. And actions such as those I had just taken reminded me all too much of a far darker time in my past, not three centuries prior…

Resignation Notice prepared by Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt
Received in Canterlot on November 25th, 1127 AE

In the course of the events surrounding the destruction of the IS-2 colony, I have had to take a hard look at myself. I was personally and emotionally compromised during the course of these events, and many suffered for it, both pony and gryphon. I now fully regret what I became and have no wish to ever be that pony again. I thought myself an avenger of those whom I’d lost. But in truth, I was a demon that spared none before me and did not distinguish between raider and innocent life, a spirit of pure hate and vengeance willing to sacrifice countless civilians and soldiers in its pursuit.

The official reports of the Lucavi group’s destruction could not truly begin to describe the ferocity and bloodlust I felt; though none said it out loud, even my own troops were afraid of me in the end. I could see it in their eyes, when they looked upon me at battle’s end and trembled. I tried to convince myself afterwards that my actions were justified, but when the nightmares would not cease and I felt myself haunted by the ghosts of not just my dead friends but those I had slain, ‘twas then that I realized what I became, and how far I had fallen.

I am officially tendering my resignation from active service, along with relinquishing my commission. I feel I am no longer worthy of it, given the atrocities I committed and soldiers I so callously sacrificed in their pursuit. If My Princess wishes, I will surrender myself to face court-martial for my innumerable crimes, but I cannot atone from a prison cell.

Thus, I respectfully ask I be allowed to live out the remainder of my years as a civilian and attempt to make my legacy one of life, not death. I further request to be awarded the Dove of Fidelity to serve as a reminder of all that I lost. And all I became.

Signed,

Thunderbolt
Former Second Lieutenant
Equestrian Aerial Corps

Letter of Confession prepared by First Lieutenant Squall Line

Received via secure EIS transmissions on December 5th, 1127 AE

The following letter is the primary reason all of the documents preceding this one have been sealed until now. There is naught here but the unbiased truth, however grim it might be… —Firefly

My Princess:

What I am about to reveal could be considered high treason on my part. If you wished to come to Outpost Beta to execute me personally, I would not blame you in the slightest. But my own guilty conscience can be ignored no more.

The truth is that this entire affair was my fault, beginning with the destruction of the IS-2 colony. My actions to protect the settlement were more than a simple error of judgement. ‘Twas a calculated move on my part. I deliberately sent a disarmed platoon there not in expectation they would avert an attack… but that they would be captured by Lucavi raiders along with the rest of the colonists.

In my attempts to resolve the Inland Shores situation peacefully, I was in fact contacted secretly by Mistress Altima, who offered to arrange an attack where all present would be captured but not harmed, taken hostage to force the removal of the settlements. Her price was extortionate, but the alternative, she implied, was a bloody raid with dozens dead if we did not comply.

In the end, I acceded because ‘twas the only way I could see that would not lead to eventual bloodshed—if the settlers understood that gryphons would not spare them harassment even with disarmed military forces, perchance then they would come to their senses. Having paid her ‘protection’ fee in full via Corps funds I embezzled from my own outpost’s budget, Mistress Altima promised me that they would not harm the soldiers or civilians, holding them at Isca for ransom.

The idea was that they would demand not gems, but the withdrawal of the remaining colonists for their safe return. She manipulated and betrayed me, and an entire colony of ponies as well as good soldiers paid the price for my foalish naivety.

I would beg for your forgiveness, but in truth, I am undeserving, and I offer myself up for arrest and court-martial. I can only ask that, in the unlikely event you choose to retain me as a soldier, you place me somewhere far from the gryphon border and Thunderbolt, who has every reason to hate me.

I will bear the shame of my actions for all my life, and I know that nothing I do can ever bring back those soldiers or colonists. If nothing else, be assured that after such a betrayal, I will never trust in the honor or better nature of non-ponies again.

Signed,

First Lieutenant Squall Line
Equestrian Aerial Corps
Outpost Beta

Preliminary Review and Recommendations: Operation Phoenix Fire

Prepared by Equestrian High Council for Military Affairs

Delivered to Princess Celestia January 3rd, 1128 AE

My Princess:

We have concluded our preliminary review of Corps and Army actions during Operation Phoenix Fire. I regret to report that we have found their performance, for the most part, quite wanting.

Though the operational objective was met and individual soldiers and small units generally fought very well, casualties were needlessly high and coordination lacking between the services. This resulted in severe disruptions to timetable and an inability to quickly react to changing circumstances, particularly on the second day.

Further, loss of discipline on the part of certain soldiers resulted in bloody battles due to loss of surprise, forcing an urban night fight against an entrenched enemy hiding amongst its populace. Had circumstances been only slightly different, this operation might well have ended in disaster with the Lucavi group still intact and our attacking force crushed between three Talon legions.

Our full interim report can be found on subsequent pages of this document, but may it suffice to say that given the destruction and civilian casualties we inflicted, ‘tis extremely fortunate our incursion did not result in major reprisals and open war.

‘Tis certain the gryphons showed rare restraint, but such cannot be counted on in the future. Our excesses and the civilian casualties we inflicted are a stain on the honor of the Equestrian Armed Forces, and ones we must take steps to ensure does not happen again…

As to the question of ex-Lieutenants Thunderbolt and Squall Line, we fear that public court-martials would only further stoke gryphon anger were their actions and roles in this bloody affair to be revealed, and raise the chance of Imperial retaliation along a still-tense border. Thus, our recommendation is that Thunderbolt be allowed to retire into the reserves and granted the Dove of Fidelity as he requests.

The reports of his combat ability are almost too fanciful to believe, but dozens of after-action reports all say the same thing: that he was unstoppable and unkillable, and his affinity for lightning, which he used to kill two shielded Gryphon mages, was outright terrifying. The Lances report that remnants of the Lucavi group have put a bounty on his head and he is now known as “The Lightning Demon” among them. ‘Tis unlikely they would ever collect even if they could reach him.

The EIS will keep close watch on him, and take action should that demon he became reemerge. But according to the psychiatric exams he has undergone, keeping him far from the border and gryphons should go a long way towards preventing that, as will having ponies to help and nurture in place of the ones he lost. To that end, he now asks to be allowed to teach at the Remedial Flyers’ school in Cloudsdale, and to be kept as far away from combat as possible.

“I want to serve the cause of life, not death,” he told one of his EIS interviewers. And when asked why, he replied: “Because ‘tis the only way I may now repent for my actions and give the loss of my friends meaning.” His remorse is real, and he now clings to his love for his lost comrades as a lifeline. In truth, there is no punishment we could give him that would be equal to the one he already suffered, and thus we feel ‘twould be best to allow him the chance to find the peace he seeks.

Squall Line’s case is more difficult. At first glance, his lapse in judgement was horrific, but ‘tis also certain that he was trapped between a proverbial storm and a gale, trying to defend badly exposed colonists who did not want to be defended. He was then offered what seemed like a way out by Mistress Altima, who we now know betrayed the trust of her own side as well as that of Squall Line. In the end, he simply grasped the lifeline that she offered, and none here can say what we would have done differently in his place.

‘Tis also worth noting his outstanding performance in command of 3rd battalion and later the entire Corps force during the operation. He participated in combat directly at both Sariv and Altea and fought superbly according to many witnesses; the Army and Aerial Corps soldiers under his command all praised his leadership. His casualties were low and his objectives taken quickly; he alone among the attacking forces coordinated his joint Army/Corps troops well.

As such, we feel ‘twould be a terrible waste of a fine combat commander to imprison him or dismiss from service. Nevertheless, ‘tis also certain punishment is called for, and thus we recommend demotion to Second Lieutenant and a sealed letter of reprimand, recalling him to an administrative position at Corps Headquarters in Canterlot for the foreseeable future. After two years, he may be reinstated to combat posts at the discretion of the Corps commanding general…

Signed,

General Hard Charger (ret.),
Head of Investigative Committee
Equestrian High Council for Military Affairs

I speak for both myself and Blindside when I say ‘twas very hard to research this, Captain. I thought I knew the full extent of my mentor’s pain and that he had likely slain civilians, but ‘tis certain I had no idea how bloody his hooves truly were. Now that I do, much of what he said to me before basic about never being able to wash that blood away makes more sense now.

I also admit to finding myself at a loss regarding then-Lieutenant Squall Line. I always thought him little more than a bigot and never gave even the slightest ponder as to what might have shaped him or why he felt that way. The betrayal he suffered was most bitter and his guilt must have in some ways been as crushing as Thunderbolt’s… as well as his determination to never let it happen again. Nor could I fathom why he was eventually twice named Corps Commander in its aftermath, only to now learn that ‘twas in part because he was in fact a very good combat commander.

Methinks ‘tis not just one, but two bitter horse pills I have been forced to swallow, Captain.

—Fell Flight

I understand and feel your pain, old friend, as well as hers. But I would like to think that in the end, Thunderbolt did atone and break the hold his demons had over him. In any event, ‘tis no doubt we were far from the only ones to draw bitter lessons from this operation, as I believe you can attest, Ambassador Kaval?

—Firefly

Indeed, Captain. I was not present in Equis at the time these events happened, as I was still but a young Wind Knight defending our northern settlements against harpie raids. But ‘tis certain its effects were far-reaching and felt even in the Gryphon homeland. Methinks I can tell you some of the aftermath I saw or later learned of.

To begin with, it made clear to many that the ponies could be pushed too far. That despite the claims of many that they had no stomach for combat, they could and would fight with ferocity, and we took Equestrian forces lightly at our peril. As a result, the Office of Owls began keeping a much tighter leash on its raider groups, and even occasionally intervened to keep any one group from growing too large or powerful. Groups that exceeded their orders or engaged in deprivations against their own side like the Lucavi were punished, sometimes severely; more than once a group was visited by Ravens—or even Red Talons like myself—to make clear our displeasure and mete out occasionally lethal discipline.

Second, it made clear that as good as individual pony soldiers could be, pony doctrine at that time left much to be desired and had many weaknesses that could be exploited—weaknesses that Prelate Gaius would draw upon in creating his war plans. ‘Tis certain your attack on the Lucavi was closely studied on the Imperial side as well, and in fact remains to this day a favorite discussion and exercise topic at our tactical schools… as a case study in how not to carry out a major offensive operation. ‘Twas oft used as an example of how poor discipline and lack of combined arms coordination could undermine even the best-thought plans.

And yet, for all that, methinks one lesson was not learned by the Gryphon side—that for all the mistakes made, pony forces still succeeded in their task with sheer stubbornness and determination, overcoming all obstacles they faced and even willing to die in a Talon counterattack if it meant completing their mission. ‘Twas a lesson that would not be driven home until much later, to our great cost.

As for former Legate Ampok, may it suffice to say that she became one of a very select few who was brought before the Empress in chains and lived. But I believe you wouldst agree with me, Captain, when I say she should be the one to tell her story, given how important she would one day be to both sides. And to me.

—Ambassador Layan Kaval

Author's Note

This chapter has been long in the making, folks, as its length should indicate. I even spent the better part of day this past weekend learning a brand new photo tool just so I could make these maps, which I hope everyone appreciated. It was a bit of an experiment to see how well they would work and how easy they were to make, as I want to use them for the coming war as well.

Thanks go to my own Equestrian High Council for Military Affairs, including Denim Blue, SilentWoodFire, AJ_Aficionado and of course Leo Archon, who wrote the entire section on Celestia’s visit to IS-1 and contributed to other areas as well. Lots of comments and discussion over this chapter, and I think it was greatly enjoyed by all.

Part 19 - The Calm...

After the two difficult chapters of Thunderbolt’s interlude, one that methinks caused much consternation amongst all of us, ’tis our preference to return to lighter fare for a bit, and detail some happier times in the prelude to war.

Life, I have found, ’tis all about balance, between the good times and bad. The latter is what helps you enjoy and appreciate the former all the more, and ’twas memories of happy times like these I shall now describe, full of respect and reward, that would sustain us during the hard days ahead. War was but weeks away as we neared July, yet there was nary a warning sign of it to be seen…

Which in hindsight, ’twas only to show how well the Empire was concealing their plans and preparations, and how badly we would be caught by surprise when the time came. ’Tis certain you hid your efforts well, Ambassador, to our great cost.

Indeed, Captain. Though ’tis also certain that in the end, we were not able to conceal it. The unlikeliest of spies would give us away, as well you know, and force us to spring our trap nearly two months too soon. —Layan Kaval

The Coming Storm

’Twas the summer solstice by the time I had returned to the Empire and found myself standing before the Empress again, bowing low as I presented her with a signed offer of alliance and a special summoning gem that would call our new allies to our aid.

Though less than happy with the final terms of the agreement I was forced to strike, she agreed the price was worth paying and welcomed me warmly, toasting me publicly and proclaiming that my success meant the Empire would last a thousand years.

That I was even returning alive was victory enough; that I had completed my mission and gained us the most powerful of allies was pure triumph. I was thus feted well, offered yet more improvements to my weapons and armor in the form of a curse-protected helmet and an experimental repeating crossbow of Minotaur make. Clearly our new alliance with them was bearing fruit, as they were supplying us with much improved weaponry and machinery.

With the most critical piece of the Prelate’s plan now in place, I retook my place at my master’s side and was quickly caught up by him on our other preparations. “Much has happened in your absence, my friend.” He greeted me with warmth and no small amount of relief; there were times I thought he took an almost fatherly view of me.

“We have made great progress on all fronts, and our other allies are meeting their obligations. Save the Diamond Dogs.” He rolled his eyes. “Their tunnels are behind schedule, and needless to say… the Empress does not share their optimistic appraisal of the situation.” He arched an eyeridge at me.

“Perchance I can find new ways to motivate them,” I suggested as I drew and inspected one of my blades meaningfully. “Do you wish me to visit them and make our displeasure clear?” I offered hopefully, looking forward to the chance to be the proverbial top dog and knock a few heads together after all the time I’d spent in a place where I was the inferior.

In truth, I never had much time or love for the Diamond Dogs; I’d thought them little more than greedy, filthy creatures who loved only jewels and had few qualms about raiding the surface world to get them. We’d bought them off in part with the same rare gems we’d offered our other allies, and given their allegiance tended to belong to the highest bidder, my opinion of their overall trustworthiness was low.

“’Tis no need,” he waved me off as we took flight from the tower. “’Tis already being dealt with by your Talaeus brethren. Centurion Kuja is overseeing them.”

“A good choice,” I granted, resheathing my blade at the mention of one of our best trainers. “A very harsh taskmistress such as her is certainly appropriate for the job. ’Tis certain she will crack her whip on them well. And what wouldst you have of me, my lord?” I bared my throat to him as he flew.

He gave me an odd look as we landed on the balcony of his new office. “My friend, methinks your devotion to duty does you great credit, but you are more than welcome to take some leave after your long and harrowing journey.”

“I am a soldier and a warrior, sir!” I saluted him with a loud thump of my fist to my onyx chestplate. “Idleness does not refresh my spirit, only battle does. My place is at your side. Or wherever you feel I can serve the Empire best.”

He smiled and placed an affectionate forepaw on my chest in a gesture I would not have tolerated from anyone except him. Though certainly an excellent warrior in his own right—he could not have ascended to his post unless he was—he was not my equal in combat but for his brilliant mind and bravery, he was one of the few I saw as my better, recognizing an intellect far superior to my own. “Then I am happy to have you back, Tribune, and we will certainly find an appropriate post for you as our invasion nears. Methinks I have several operations planned that could use a tactician and trainer of your talents. In the meantime, I invite you to accompany me to the south, where our mages wish to demonstrate their progress in finding ways to fight pony weather control.”

Weather Wise

Two days later in the late afternoon, we sat on clouds overlooking a large plain. The Empress herself had joined us along with her entourage and much of the senior staff; I noted with satisfaction the former insisted on flying everywhere herself as much as possible rather than be put in an air chariot pulled by Paladin sky gryphons.

Given her advancing age and earth gryphon frame, she could not fly more than a dozen leagues under her own power, but she refused all offers of help to make it from her quarters to the viewing altitude, climbing to the cloudbase on the strength of her own wings, a phalanx of Paladins and Praetorian guards surrounding her as she got settled and awaited the show to come. She had even brought some of the Royal family along for the ride; several of her heirs were also present, including her youngest daughter, Jeyenne.

Great things were expected, and indeed, great things had been promised. For months, the Magus had been attempting to find answers to both Celestia’s power and pony weather control. For months, they had been practicing their craft, looking for magical solutions to both. And now…?

And now, in the middle of the summer and bare months before the invasion, they claimed success on at least one front.

They started off simply, showing a spell they’d developed that could trigger a cloud to release all its lightning at once, demonstrating by using it on a single small and rather innocuous cumulus, causing it to send a single bolt to the ground with a loud boom. They then used wind spells to line up two more cumulus and demonstrated a chain reaction, hitting one cloud with the same spell and causing it to spew forth several bolts, one of which hit the other cloud, causing it to do the same.

The clouds only contained so much electricity, of course, and soon ceased their strikes. But the implications were clear: one of those spells fired into a pony storm cloud would cause it to spew its contained lighting in every direction, endangering its crew and then rendering the cloud useless as a weapon until it could be recharged. And if such a spell was thrown into a cache of such clouds as the ponies were now known to be keeping underground at their Aerial Corps border bases?

The results would be spectacular. And extremely destructive to everything nearby.

That was but the first part of their demonstration. For the next, groups of mages showed how they could make or accelerate the growth of new storm clouds, as a group of a dozen of them produced a new cloud before our eyes just by hovering in a circle and combining their fire and wind spells, sending them shooting upwards in a cylindrical shape.

That sucked more air into the base of the cylinder they formed in turn, resulting in the cloud rapidly growing overhead, feeding on the warm moist air the mages fed it. Within five minutes they had built at least a shower as rain started to fall from its base, but once that happened, their spells were not enough to sustain it in the face of cold downdrafts and the cloud fizzled as quickly as it had been built.

The Empress turned disappointed, but was quickly assured there was more. That day had been chosen for a reason—a humid day that could naturally produce storms—and she was pointed behind her to a thunderhead forming in the distance. “We cannot create storms such as the ponies can. So we have found that the key to countering them, My Empress, is not that we fight natural weather patterns. ’Tis that we work with them,” the head of the Magus Legion, Legate Ialta, explained as nearly fifty of her mages went to work on the burgeoning storm.

They started by strengthening it, adding vast quantities of ice to its upper reaches while another group of mages heated it from below with fire. The cloud all but ballooned and expanded into something far more menacing; intense rain and lightning soon followed. They then weakened it just as quickly by reversing the process, flipping their spellcasting so that the top of the cloud was warmed, and its base cooled. Within minutes, the storm looked far less impressive; its rain and lightning slackening and then fading out completely, leaving the air clear in its wake.

“Impressive,” the Empress granted as the mages returned. “But what of the superstorms they used against our Raptor Base?”

“We have found we cannot create such a phenomenon ourselves without far more mages than practical and proper atmospheric conditions, My Empress,” the Legate admitted. “And such conditions are rarely seen and almost impossible to reproduce. However, our finest mages and arcane theorists have examined the structure of such storms when they have appeared, and we believe we have an answer.” She unveiled a large annotated picture and inset diagram as she spoke:

“What you see is an actual picture of a naturally occurring supercell taken by memory spell from one of my own mages, My Empress; a storm seen on these very plains earlier this spring not at all dissimilar to the one that destroyed Raptor Base.

“Despite its great power, we believe it possible to destroy or at least rapidly weaken such a storm as we did earlier… by targeting this sector with cold air,” she tapped the warm air inflow arrows on the inset diagram with a talon.

“We have found, My Empress, that tornadic storms such as the ones the ponies can build have a tilted rotating updraft that feeds on warm, moist air through this surprisingly narrow inflow area. So if enough mages working in concert with wind and ice spells can sufficiently cool that air…”

“The storm loses its fuel and cannot survive,” the Empress finished for her, looking intrigued. “What thou hast learned and accomplished in such a short time is most impressive, Legate. We admit we are quite pleased with thy progress, and hope we might yet see more.”

“Be assured, My Empress, that we will continue to refine our efforts and find ever more ways we might yet turn our adversary’s own strength against them,” the Legate acknowledged with a bow, then turned towards the Prelate, a question in her gaze. He grinned and nodded in response. “With your permission, My Empress, we have one final feat of magic to demonstrate. One that was suggested by the Prelate himself.”

“Oh?” She turned towards him, a warning gleam in her eyes. ’Twas certain she hated surprises as much as the Prelate enjoyed springing them.

The Prelate bowed before her. “You wouldst forgive me for keeping this from you, My Empress, but I did not wish to get your hopes up given the difficulties involved. In addition to finding a way to counter pony weather control, I directed the Legate to seek ways to use weather offensively. Including and most especially recreating a highly destructive phenomenon inspired by Celestia herself,” he explained, causing me to blink. I knew he had asked for this, but had they now succeeded in my absence?

Her eyes narrowed. “We see thou still hast thy flair for the theatrical, Prelate. And we warn thee again it may yet be the death of thee,” she said ominously, then studied him for a moment. “But we think we know of what phenomenon thou speaketh, and we admit the possibilities intrigue us. If thou hast truly succeeded in recreating it,” she finished in a tone that said that she would believe it when she saw it.

“Then I invite you to simply watch, My Empress,” he bowed low again, not worried in the slightest. There were precious few gryphons who could strain the Empress’ patience like he could, and also precious few who could get away with it. “Proceed, Legate. I, too, wish to see the results of your experiments.”

A look of genuine pride was seen on her face. “’Twould be my greatest pleasure, my Prelate and Empress!” she saluted the former and then bowed low to the latter before diving off the cloud towards the ground in a manner I almost thought was reminiscent of an excited schoolcub.

The rest of her mages joined her as she flew to the ground and formed a circle over a grasslands well away from any farms, and suddenly great gouts of wind and fires erupted from their staves, all pointing inward, scorching the ground in front of them and setting the tall grass ablaze. Within mere seconds a funnel of fire erupted from the ground in the center of the inferno as they then pointed their staves at a slight outward angle to add rotation, feeding the growing monster before finally fleeing from its face and leaving it to do its destructive work, ripping up the grasslands and spreading flames everywhere.

The tornado of fire they created wasn’t as large or powerful as the one Celestia made, but it was still a horrific sight, seemingly setting the air itself ablaze with a narrow funnel of flame in a feat not even dragons could accomplish. “Incredible,” one of the Praetors noted even as the Nautila Primus went visibly pale; several members of the royal family looked perturbed as well, Jeyenne most of all.

“Indeed,” the Prelate said in no small amount of pride as he saw the Empress watching raptly, its glow illuminating us in the deepening dusk. “As My Empress can plainly see, ’tis a terrifying phenomenon that is in some ways self-sustaining, feeding on the heat of the fires it sets. And once we start it, it has a mind of its own and ’twould be very difficult even for pegasi to kill. For they will simply not be able to get close enough to try,” he observed, and on cue, the mages started trying to weaken it with ice spells but had little success as the heat and winds it generated were just too intense for magus magic to effectively counter, forcing them to keep their distance.

“I regret ’tis not much use as a tactical weapon. ’Tis indiscriminate and very difficult to direct, making it as much a danger to our warriors as to theirs. However, as an instrument of terror and a potential weapon of mass destruction to be used against cities and bases? Methinks My Empress will agree ’twould be an excellent addition to our magical arsenal.”

’Twas Indeed, ambassador, and for how hard it was to counter and as much carnage it oft caused in the years ahead, ’tis certain I always wondered where its inspiration came from. In hindsight, ’twas obvious, and methinks the Princess now regrets that part of her display.

Perchance she did, Captain. But methinks also that we had plenty of cause to regret it ourselves, given the eventual response your Office of Magical Research came up with! ’Twas the beginning of a pattern of escalation and retaliation that, had the war continued any longer, might have eventually consumed us all. ’Tis fortunate for all our sakes it did not! —Layan Kaval

Indeed again, old friend. But that part of the story remains far in the future. For now, let us focus on the final lead-up to war, beginning with some happier days to be had before the storm would strike. Late June and early July were a time of great honor and pride for me, when awards and intriguing new options would be showered not just on me, but on those who served under me.

For just as Blindside was offered the Lances, both myself and Fell Flight would shortly be offered opportunities for advancement we had not yet considered. Not even Gavian would escape the favor I would be shown, as it turned out, though he would at first be far more ambivalent about his own opportunity…

To Be the Best

As much as I’d not been looking forward to attending the Summer Sun Celebration Military Ball, methinks that in the end, I was very glad I went.

I’d offered Blindside the chance to stay behind with her mother and spend a few more days with her, but she declined. ’Twas at her mother’s own request, as it turned out, in part because she had become fast friends with mine. They had a long talk, and before we departed, Sweet Leaf thanked me profusely for my comfort and all I had done for Blindside, saying she had been a single mother for long enough and would find a new stallion, one that would appreciate both her and her daughter.

My mother nodded in great satisfaction; clearly whatever she had shared with her new friend had the desired effect. And now, as both she and my father boarded our naval transport to Epsilon along with General Fairweather and her entourage, including several of her aides and sentries, I found myself looking forward greatly to their visit. The former for being able to show my command and introduce Gavian, and the latter to show off the crack troops I was turning my battalion into.

Despite our exalted company, the flight back to Epsilon was uneventful enough, though methinks I did wonder why Blindside kept shooting glances at me. ’Twas certain I got along well enough with Fairweather, at least, taking an instant liking to her for how knowledgeable and even-tempered she was; not so set on her rank that she thought socializing with subordinates was beneath her.

Her reputation was certainly quite good and not just for her combat ability; her courage was unquestioned and ’twas even said she’d surrendered herself to gryphon custody to stay a Talon counterattack in the aftermath of the very bloody and messy IS-2 incident some years earlier. Methinks I’d heard little about that operation except what I’d read in the news scrolls as an eight-year old filly; at the very least I can say the tales of victory and heroics they spun (even as they failed to mention the atrocities I would later learn about) fueled my own warrior dreams.

At the General’s request, I shared the outlines and inspiration for our new training regimens, noting idly how the presence of Armored Guardspony trainers and Black Lances were greatly helping our readiness. Mother grinned in great satisfaction, having tested me the previous day on an Army training field and found me far more formidable in close combat after two months of knife-and-stiletto training with Swift Strike. We’d fought nearly evenly and she remarked to me that I’d learned in just a few short months combat skills and blade fighting abilities that took most Lances and Plainclothes Guard members years to master.

“You are truly an instinctive fighter, my daughter,” she noted again at a VIP dinner afterwards I was invited to attend. “Perchance the most instinctive I have ever met. You absorb new skills like a sponge, mastering what you are shown quickly. If ’twas ever a warrior born, ’tis certain it is you.”

“Never a better warrior, nor a better leader, if the reports that keep crossing my desk are true,” Fairweather added, having witnessed our bouts firsthoof. “’Tis why I wish to see your command for myself, Sergeant, to find out just how you are doing it!”

“And ’twill be my honor to show you, ma’am,” I couldn’t quite keep the blush off my cheeks at the praise now being heaped upon me. Fortunately, I’d been able to get word to Epsilon via the Army messaging post to expect high-ranking guests to be arriving with me, and Fell Flight did not disappoint. She had the better part of the battalion ready to greet us as Blindside and I stepped off the naval transport to receive salutes, followed by my parents. And then the bugler sounded a particular melody that made all present snap to attention, announcing the arrival of a high-ranking officer.

“Commander, Equestrian Aerial Corps… arriving!” I called out myself as she stepped off, rigidly saluting her as my troops and parents did the same. “Welcome to Outpost Epsilon, General Fairweather!”

“Good to be here, Sergeant First Class Firefly!” she returned the salute, then waited for my troops to drop theirs before she pulled out a blue command gem and turned to address them, taking quick note, I immediately noticed, of Gavian, who was watching from off to the side. “When an Aerial Corps Outpost boasts readiness and fitness levels far in excess of any other base, methinks I will take notice. Methinks I also will wish to see for myself why, and if that why can in fact be applied elsewhere to spread throughout the Corps!”

“’Twould be our greatest pleasure to demonstrate, General!” I assured her, then introduced her to my senior staff, starting with Fell Flight, whom I noticed she greeted quite warmly.

“Good to see you again, Sergeant First Class. Staying out of trouble?” Fairweather asked with a hint of amusement that said she knew the other mare well.

“Not at all, ma’am,” my second replied with a note of mirth. “Methinks there’s no fun in that!”

“’Tis true… though methinks you are missed at Omega. Readiness levels have fallen there in the wake of your departure, though ’tis certain the same holds true for the other border bases as well.” She shook her head. I knew what she was talking about because I’d read the same reports—without raider groups threatening them, training and alertness levels among our frontier forces were starting to slacken; I’d had to fight that tendency among my own soldiers as well. “I may yet recall you there if that’s what it takes to undo it.”

“My skills are at your disposal, ma’am,” Fell Flight answered neutrally, though I knew her well enough to hear the undertone in her voice that said she’d rather stay here.

I then introduced the General to my remaining NCOs, including Flight Sergeant Osprey after that, whom I’d had no further issues with since the duel and answered all questions crisply. Finally, Fairweather arrived at Gavian, who struck his best impression of an attention pose. “So you are Gavian Ravenoff,” she noted, sizing him up, perchance surprised by his smaller stature.

“Yes, ma’am!” Gavian replied in near-perfect Equish. “I thank you for letting me stay here, ma’am!” he saluted her in the pony manner.

“’Tis the princess you should thank, but methinks you’re very welcome, young fledgling,” she replied with real warmth, returning the respectful gesture. “Your information averted a war, and ’tis certain both Equestria and the Empire owes you a great debt for the countless lives you have saved. I understand you have become quite the artist as well?”

Gavian nodded eagerly. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!” He lit up.

“He is as skilled with a quill pen and brush as he has come to be with his sword, ma’am,” I spoke up for him, watching him beam at the flattery. “I will offer you my stateroom for your stay, of course, but be warned he has turned half of it into his studio!”

“Methinks I can manage,” she chuckled. “Then perchance you wouldst do me the honor of sketching my portrait before my departure, young gryphon?”

“Ma’am! Yes, ma’am!” he answered excitedly, jumping as he always did at the chance to showcase his exceptional artistic talents.

* * * * *

As we had arrived mid-afternoon, there was little point in engaging in exercises if she wanted to see our typical training regimen, which would require an entire day to go through. So the remainder of her day was given over to tours of the base and having dinner with my troops, interviewing some of my soldiers and NCOs privately to get a better impression of what my battalion actually thought of me. I had no doubt she would get an earful from at least a few disgruntled troops unhappy with me or the harsh training regimens, but far more would say they trusted me and appreciated the heights of skill and ability I’d taken them to.

I was more surprised when she pulled aside the three Celestial Guardsponies later that evening, wanting to speak to them privately as well. Whatever was said, they were tight-lipped afterwards and informed me that they were not at liberty to divulge whatever was discussed. At the very least, they assured me nothing was wrong, though I wasn’t certain what some of the smiles exchanged between them meant.

Regardless, after my own immediate duties were done, I took the opportunity to give my parents their own private base tour, and then formally introduced them to Gavian. I saw a shadow pass over my mother’s face at the sight of him, and I wondered if she was having to suppress a sudden instinct to kill him. But it only lasted a moment, and she gave me a reassuring smile, greeting him warmly as he bared his neck to her and introduced himself, saying how much he loved me and hoped he could be part of our family.

He did not yet know that when the moment was right, I was planning to offer him just that.

The four of us had dinner together in my stateroom, and both mother and father ended up being charmed by him, alternately enrapt and shocked by the story of his own upbringing, or lack of it. ’Twas certain he could be quite endearing when he wanted to be, and was quite eager to show off his artwork and his still-growing sword skill. Curious, as she knew Swift Strike had been training him—her fellow Black Lance was silently watching over Fairweather as a hidden bodyguard in the guise of Corporal Zephyr—Silent Night then asked if she could test him herself. I wasn’t so sure that was such a good idea given she’d likely slain most gryphons she’d come across in the past, but Gavian preempted me by immediately agreeing, drawing his sword and rearing up to take a ready stance.

Mother responded by drawing her hidden blade, which she initially reversed so that the dull edge was facing him, but to my consternation Gavian immediately balked—he insisted on her facing him ‘with claws out’ so it would be a real test.

I knew why he wanted it, even though I wasn’t happy about it: “If you show a sheathed weapon or a dull edge to a gryphon, you are telling him he is weak and not worth your time. But by facing him with blades bared, you honor him as a worthy opponent,” I had to inform Mother, to which she blinked but then smiled and immediately flipped her blade.

They sparred for five minutes under my watchful eye, and I saw some genuine respect in my mother’s gaze as he held his own against her. To her surprise, she found that she wasn’t even holding back that much, just as I no longer needed to.

“He fights nothing like the gryphons I’ve known,” she told me in some wonder afterwards. “Methinks his slighter stature works to his advantage. He’s far faster and doesn’t use strength so much as speed. His movements are much more fluid and coupled with his smaller size just makes him all the more elusive. Swift Strike taught him a hybrid style, and methinks it works,” she told me, to which I could only remind her to tell both Gavian and Swift Strike that, as they would take it as a great compliment.

I had one last surprise before bedtime. I had found a letter scroll waiting for me from Sergeant Major Windshear upon my return, but hadn’t opened it, deciding to save it so my parents and I could all read it together. I’d been getting one roughly every week since Wind Whistler started training, and each one had become a bit more promising until finally, Windshear announced that he now believed Wind Whistler was going to make it. With her basic training now past the critical halfway point, most washouts had already occurred; as it turned out she was one of only two surviving mares—the other, to little surprise, was the PSD mare.

“Methinks it fitting that you are the motivation for both,” Windshear noted in a tone of amusement that even made it through his writing. “Whenever they falter, we need only mention your name to get them moving again. ’Tis certain your former duel opponent will demand a rematch upon her graduation, and methinks her blade training backed by Guardspony strength and speed will make her a dangerous opponent indeed!” he warned me, going on to describe in detail how Wind Whistler had finally dealt with the two stallion recruits that had been tormenting her, not so much outfighting them as outsmarting them.

“’Twas the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” Windshear admitted, explaining how she had succeeded in goading the two into a duel where they had the disadvantage by reciting their respective histories and upbringing through sheer observation, pegging their hometowns and lineage as well as their insecurities to make them upset and angry, and then put both down quickly by doing to them what she’d done to me more than once in the past—knowing exactly how they would attack and how to counter, having worked out their weaknesses and how to take advantage of them well in advance.

“She led them around by the nose and then took them both out in under ten seconds. ’Tis certain she will never be the equal of a Guardspony stallion in strength, but she’s proving she doesn’t need to be—methinks I’ve never seen a recruit read their opponents so well!” he admitted, to which my parents smiled. “She is very smart and has an outside chance of graduating a corporal at this rate. So perchance Silent Night will yet spare me?” he finished half-jokingly, to which my mother laughed and wrote out a single-line reply:

“That remains to be seen, old friend. Methinks you are not out of danger yet!”

I was awoken the next morning not by reveille, but by another trumpet call announcing the arrival of a high-ranking guest.

Confused, I pulled myself to my hooves and then pulled my armor on. The last time I’d heard that sound unexpectedly, it had been The Princess herself visiting, but this time? That seemed unlikely. And besides, given that Fairweather was already here—she had declined the use of my stateroom and instead slept with the senior NCOs—that the song would sound again with her present meant that an officer of equal rank or stature was arriving. But why would one of the other service heads be visiting?

I got my answer all too swiftly as I found Fell Flight and we flew out to the naval transport gate and immediately came to rigid attention as I beheld the three Celestial Guardsponies welcoming…. “Captain Typhoon!” we exclaimed, snapping a quick salute as we beheld the Captain of the Guard himself, arriving with two aides and a twelve-pony honor guard! “I-I was not informed of your coming, sir!” I shot my equally befuddled second a glance.

“At ease, Sergeant First Class,” he told me, returning our salute with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, one matched by the other Celestial Guardsponies, who I guessed only then had been in on his coming visit from the start. “’Twas intended as a surprise. I was invited here by General Fairweather to see how you’re applying Guardspony training to our sister service,” he informed me.

“I… see,” I said, trying to choke back the uncharacteristic surge of nervousness and self-consciousness I’d felt, one I’d last experienced just a few days earlier when father invited me to dance. “Your presence is welcome and you are more than welcome to watch, sir!”

“I may wish to do more than just watch, Sergeant,” he informed me with a coy note. “But by all means, let us proceed. Let us see if your troops are as good as the reports say…”

Typhoon Warning

Reveille sounded and my soldiers, at least those on the day shift, spilled out of their bunks and immediately assembled on the drill fields.

They’d been warned to expect Fairweather, but they had not been told to expect Typhoon as well! The Captain of the Royal Guard was a legendary figure no less than Windshear; a former Corps pegasus who had cut his combat teeth not against the gryphons but in the southwestern deserts guarded by the Aerial Corps 3rd Division, where he had single-hoofedly slain a giant scorpion and driven off a harpie harem that was using it to raid a border village.

He had sustained a series of severe facial scars after being raked by harpie claws, but had declined to get it treated, and thus now had a series of impressive slash marks across the whole of his face that reminded all who saw him of his feat. Granted the Sapphire Sentinel for his actions that day, he had later herded slightly scandalously with several grateful village earth pony mares—inter-tribal herds like that were still frowned upon prewar—one of whom bore him twin sons.

He then transferred to the Royal Guard, rising steadily through its ranks via duels and continuing action with the Corps’ third division from which he had come. ’Twas said he had a very dry sense of humor and demanded all Guardsponies meet and continually adhere to rigid standards of combat training and conduct, and indeed, I had to pass occasional tests he mandated myself even out on the frontier.

And now he had come to test me and my troops personally. The latter came first as he and Fairweather observed our guardpony basic-inspired morning conditioning routines run by Spear Sergeant Steelheart, who put a little more bite in his orders for the presence of his Captain. My troops responded in their weighted armor—I’d obtained some surplus Guardspony training gear for the purpose months earlier—and immediately went through the ground and air obstacle courses of our training fields.

This involved not just running or flying them, but also a great deal of heavy lifting of objects into the air or simply shoving or pulling them along the ground. To increase the intensity of the training regimen even further, they often did so under heavy winds generated by Stormrunner flying above them, who wasn’t above creating a quick whirlwind with his wings to make their tasks even harder.

After an intense hour-long workout that ended with most of my soldiers exhausted and panting on the ground, they turned in their armor and were then more than ready for breakfast, which the mess hall obliged with many eggs and extra bales of hay to provide the protein and energy they now needed.

“Impressive,” Fairweather granted, having said very little during the display.

“Indeed,” the Captain concurred as my soldiers filed out, leaving he and Fairweather considering what they had seen. Normally I would take part in the routine myself, but I did not for his presence. “’Tis little different from pre-dawn workouts at Fort Spur, except in armor weight and duration. However, I am not convinced of its efficacy. Methinks what you are putting them through is not enough to enable them to carry or fight with Guardspony armor,” he pointed out.

“’Tis true, but ’tis not the intention to have them do so, sir,” I replied easily. “’Tis not how the Corps fights, and ’tis less about how they perform whilst wearing their armor… than how they perform when it comes off,” I explained deliberately cryptically, then invited my honored guests to take breakfast themselves. They did so, but to their credit, insisted on taking it in the mess hall along with everypony else, inviting their staffs and my parents to join us there.

After breakfast, my troops assembled again, this time for combat training without their weighted armor, now dressed only in the basic light uniforms of the Corps. “With your permission, sir and ma’am?” I asked the Captain and General to join the exercises myself this time, taking part in or running various flight and fighting drills as I usually did.

“Proceed, Sergeant,” Fairweather invited for both of them, and I did so, running several of the drills myself.

’Twas only then that the two service heads understood what the real point of the weighted armor was. After many months of training with it, once it was removed, my soldiers became far faster and stronger both on the ground and in the air. They were able to sustain performance levels far in excess of most Corps pegasi, to the point that ponies like Fell Flight could even hold their own against Guardsponies like me or Stormrunner. The stunned look on Fairweather’s face as she observed the true fruits of the training was something to behold, whilst even Typhoon looked impressed at the hybrid training regimen I’d come up with, one that played to the Corps strengths of speed and striking power.

“’Tis not just strength or speed, either. My soldiers’ stamina is greatly increased as well, enough to give the gryphons a run,” I couldn’t help but brag, though ’twas probably a bit of an exaggeration—well-conditioned sky gryphons like Gavian could fly many hundreds of miles to a fight; mine perchance only two hundred, but that was still more than double what most pegasi could do.

Speaking of Gavian, he participated in the drills himself as he usually did now, taking part in combat spars and showing how he helped my soldiers train. He did so by providing a real gryphon foil, and better yet, one that was far faster and better than the average raider.

“His fighting style is unique, but methinks he’s at least on par with Talons, or perchance even a bit better,” Fairweather remarked as she studied him carefully, having fought more than a few gryphons in her day.

“Indeed,” my mother agreed. “’Tis fortunate he is on our side, as methinks he could even rival some Knights in ability!”

Normally, our morning drill sessions ended before lunch with my soldiers ceding the space to myself and Stormrunner, saving our daily duel for last, waiting just long enough to give my troops a chance to place bets on who would win. However, all bets were off this time as Typhoon himself flew forth to face me! “With the commander’s permission?” he asked politely, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

My heart couldn’t help but skip a beat as I realized that the Captain of the Guard himself wanted to test me! “’Twould be my honor and pleasure, sir!” I told him as I faced him with my white-and-blue Corps-issue wingblades wielded, and he did the same with his silver and red Guardspony ones. Fresh bets were exchanged in low murmurs—from the sound of it, most wagers were less about who would win than how long I would last.

As much as I would like to say I would disappoint them, I did not, falling in but half a minute to my Captain’s strength and skill. Truth be told, I’d never met my superior in pegasus strength until that day when I found myself in the surprising position of being knocked right out of the sky by a single wind-reinforced wing strike that sent me tumbling hard. I recovered before hitting the ground, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t touch him as he simply turned the air itself against me, battering me with a series of massive wing-generated hurricane-force wind gusts far beyond the capability of most pegasi.

That gave me an instant understanding of where his name had come from; a point he then drove home by using his hooves and wings to create a small cloud out of the thin desert air—he knew the olden pegasus skills!—and using it to fire a lightning bolt at me.

To his surprise, I deflected it—barely—with my own power, but he took immediate advantage of my staggered state to rush in and knock me hard to the ground, striking my shoulders with the back of his blade with enough force to numb my wings and make me see stars. By the time my blurred vision cleared, I was on the ground and staring his wingblade in the face, though it was swiftly replaced by his hoof, offering me help up.

“Well done, Sergeant First Class,” he told me with a grin as he pulled me back to my hooves to the cheers of my assembled troops, who were in awe at what they just saw no less than me. “You lasted far longer than most others against me. And methinks I’ve only known of one other pony who could deflect a bolt as you did.”

“An intriguing match, sir.” I pulled myself up slightly shakily and saluted, unable to remember the last time I’d been beaten so badly. “Methinks I did not know weather could be used as a personal weapon by individual pegasi so effectively.” I told him with a rueful glance at mother, who shook her head and gave me a tut-tut look. She’d told me to work on weather wielding, but I really hadn’t to that point, concentrating instead on close-quarters knife fights with Swift Strike.

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “’Tis a difficult skill to master and requires study of the old ways, but methinks you might be one to do so. Fret not about your defeat, young warrior, for far more fell far more swiftly to me than you,” he promised, and I had no cause to doubt it after how quickly I’d been crushed. I made a mental note to start adding weather practice to my personal training as he pulled out his blue command gem, turning to address my troops.

“Soldiers of the Corps! Know that both you and your commander have greatly impressed me here today!” he told them all. “You should be very proud of what you have accomplished and become—elite warriors who methinks could easily defeat not just raiders, but any Talons or Knights sent your way. Your skill rivals that of many younger Guardsponies now, and ’tis no little feat. Methinks that should any of you wish to become Guardsponies yourselves as your Captain is, you wouldst stand an excellent chance given your conditioning and training!”

“Lest you think it cannot be done, I remind you all that I was once a Corps soldier myself, and I have taken its fighting spirit with me to the Guard, seeking to infuse our stallions with it!” he proclaimed to a fresh round of cheers. “’Tis my great hope that your commander’s efforts will lead to greater cooperation between our services, as Sergeant First Class Firefly has shown the way!”

His remarks were followed by similar ones from General Fairweather, who complimented us all and thanked us for ‘giving her much to think about,’ promising she would have a great deal more to say the next day.

Despite the success of our demonstrations, methinks I was given some cause for consternation as Fairweather and Typhoon took dinner alone that night in my stateroom, wanting to discuss what they’d witnessed privately. In the meantime, my mother gave a few knife-fighting seminars to off-duty troops who desired it (her cover being that she’d once been a PSD agent, which for all I knew was true!) besting all comers—I think some of my soldiers just wanted to see how good she was for how badly she’d beaten me a few months earlier—and then inviting me to face her again when she saw I was anxious about things.

As usual, a rousing duel did wonders for my mood, though methinks my father felt a little left out. As a naval Pegasus who could not fly, there hadn’t been much for him to do except share meals with us, though I did make sure he and mother had private quarters for their sleep.

At the very least, he did get along well enough with Fairweather and said that he’d recommend some of what he’d seen for his own service, including requesting some Guardspony stallions be seconded to the Navy ‘for purposes of whipping our Pegasus squadrons into shape’. Still, he couldn’t help but feel his entire service was superfluous at that point, unwanted and unneeded.

Events would prove the lie of that sentiment soon enough, but for now? I had something planned for Gavian that I was certain would cheer him up.

Undying Devotion

As dusk fell and evening deepened, my VIP guests emerged from my stateroom saying they had jointly reached a few decisions they would share with me and my troops the next day. I again offered them my stateroom for sleep, but both declined. “I believe I will stand watch tonight,” Captain Typhoon told me. “Methinks ‘tis been far too long since I last did.”

“And methinks I will join you, at least for a few hours, General Fairweather added. “I would also like to speak with Fell Flight.”

“I’ll save you the trouble, ma’am,” I told her, activating my red command gem to call for Fell Flight along with Swift Strike, Flight Sergeant Osprey and the Celestial Guardsponies, who had all been assembled and awaiting my summons. They in turn retrieved Gavian while I explained what was about to happen to my honored guests, inviting them to witness what I had planned. ’Twas something I’d been discussing with my parents for weeks over the mail, and they had given me its blessing now that they met Gavian personally, understanding that he was worthy of the honor I wished to bestow him.

Methinks Gavian already knew something was up from the manner he was summoned, and looked slightly perturbed at everypony he saw in my stateroom, all wearing smiles that ranged from coy to eager. “Mother?” he asked me tentatively. “Am I in trouble?”

My grin got broader, as did everyone else’s. “Not at all, Gavian. In fact, I have something for you.” With those coyly-delivered words, I retrieved a very special scroll from my desk drawer and passed it to him. “Open it and read it,” I invited him.

Though uncertain, he did so, despite reading still being a bit of a struggle for him. He sounded the words out carefully, reciting the sentences out loud with some difficulty until he reached an unfamiliar one. “A-dopt?” He raised his gaze to me. He was given a translation into Aeric by Spear Sergeant Steelheart that caused his eyes to go wide as he finally put the pieces together. “Then this is…” he couldn’t finish as his talons and beak began to tremble.

“Indeed, Gavian,” I confirmed with a broad grin. “I wish to do for you as my own parents did for me and give you that which you have never known—a family who loves you. All you need do is sign at the bottom before witnesses, and then in the eyes of all Equestria, I will become your mother. And you will be my son.”

He nearly dropped the scroll to hear my words, staring at me in shock. “Don’t you want this?” I already knew the answer, but sensed some hesitation within him.

He nodded very quickly. “Yes! Much! Very much! But… but…” He finally found his voice, looking like he was trying desperately to convince himself that this was really happening. “But… am not Pony. Am Gryphon!” he reminded me, his Equish faltering as it often did when he got upset or excited. “Why?” He had to know, or perchance ’twas the only word he could manage at the end.

I had rehearsed this answer for days since I had sent away for the paperwork, and ’twas finally time to give it. “Because for all the lives you have saved and the war you prevented, you have earned your place among us, and with me. Because over time I have come to see you as not just my charge but my son, and ’twas your duel that finally made me realize it, when I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you,” I outlined earnestly.

“Because you are a fine young tiercel, ready and eager to please. Because you have shown yourself able to learn and apply the lessons of friendship we have taught you in turn…” I trailed off meaningfully. “And because above all else, I want to, Gavian. ’Tis certain you are already part of our family here, for all the friends you have made. And this just makes it official.”

“The invitation comes from us as well, Gavian.” My father spoke up. “Our daughter has spoken glowingly of you for some time, and we now see why. She sought our counsel and permission to do this, and we now grant it gladly. We accept you as our own, and ask only that you accept us in return. So what say you, young gryphon?”

Gavian’s answer was given as tears began streaming down his cheeks. He fumbled with his art supplies for a moment before finally pulling a quill pen free, though he nearly dropped it and the ink bottle for how hard he was shaking. We showed him where to sign, and he did so in broad if slightly shaky strokes, signing his name to the document where before he could only put scratch marks. To be certain, he still couldn’t read or write that well, but he had learned quickly how to sign his name, and even starting applying an artistic flair to it in hopes it would one day be a signature for his work.

When the deed was finally done, he hugged me hard, clutching me through sobbing squawks. “Welcome to my family, Gavian,” was all I could tell him through my own tears as I hugged him back and the rest of those watching hoofstomped their own approval.

“Welcome home… my son.”

* * * * *

In the end, ’twas not just Fairweather and Typhoon who ended up staying up late. Gavian asked if he could sketch and paint his new family, wanting to pay us back the only way he could. We immediately agreed, and posed for him for the better part of an hour as he drew us, capturing our likenesses in a series of simple ink lines against the fresh canvas he had put up on his easel.

To little surprise, he was not satisfied with his effort—he rarely was—no matter how much we rightly praised it. But I cheered him up by telling him to wait to paint it until he could add in my sister to the scene. I also told him to add himself, so we would have a proper picture of our entire family.

He very quickly agreed, and we all went to bed shortly thereafter.

Guardians of Equestria

Reveille sounded yet again the following morning, and though I only had a partial night’s sleep, I pulled myself up and out to the drill fields again, where the bulk of my battalion was now assembled so Typhoon and Fairweather could see them off.

This time, the latter went first, as the General took great pains to praise me and all she had seen. “Methinks I have been impressed, to say the least. Enough that Captain Typhoon and I intend to start applying this Guardspony-inspired training regimen Corps-wide, and reward the one who brought it to fruition. Sergeant First Class Firefly! Front and center!” she ordered, calling to me directly.

I obeyed instantly, coming forward at a trot and saluting as I stopped in front of her. “Reporting, ma’am!”

She considered me for a moment. “Sergeant, what you have accomplished here in less than a year is truly remarkable! You have taken Epsilon from a backwater base to our best border outpost, having defeated no less than three major raids along the way. You saved your command not once but twice, to say nothing of preventing outright war by saving the life of your adopted son. So I think it only fitting that he be the one to present you with this award! Gavian?” she called to him, and he immediately stepped forward, a gleaming green medal already held in his talons.

“Sergeant First Class Firefly! For sustained and outstanding service to Equestria itself as well as the Equestrian Aerial Corps, you are awarded the Aerial Corps Emerald of Acclaim, given for superb performance in both peace and war over an extended period!” She waited for Gavian to finish pinning the medal to my armored chest. “Normally, it takes a year of service for this award to be given, but there is a good reason it shall be granted now. Captain Typhoon?” she called, stepping backwards as the latter stepped forward, passing him her command crystal.

“Thank you, General Fairweather. In truth, there is little I can add that has not already been said—this visit has opened my eyes to the possibilities of Corps/Guard cooperation! I fully intend to help the General apply the model used here throughout the service, assigning Guardsponies to all Corps battalions to facilitate the same training underway here. But in truth, ’twas not the reason I came here—at least, not the only one,” he gave me a grin.

“My true intent was to observe you, Sergeant First Class Firefly, and see if you were truly worthy of an honor Captain Sirocco and the General herself requests for you. And now, having seen your command firsthoof, ’tis certain to me you are. Few have made such a strong impact as you have in such a short time, and ’tis certain fewer still have caught the minds and hearts of so many, both inside and outside of the military. I am impressed—neigh, very impressed—both by how you have brought Guardspony training techniques to the Corps, and how effective they turned out to be.

“And therefore, ’tis just not for your superb service, but your outstanding leadership that I now have no qualms about promoting you… to Master Sergeant of the Armored Guard!” With that, he nodded to my parents flanking me, who each set to work removing and replacing my rank insignia, leaving me wondering when he’d had a chance to arrange all this! When they were done and had finished saluting and hugging me, my five stripes had been replaced with six; a third ‘rocker’ added to the bottom to join the other two. I had now ascended to a post most ponies needed well over a decade to achieve if at all, meaning I now outranked most of the Armored Guard and Aerial Corps!

“I… thank you, sir!” I saluted him hard as my battalion erupted in cheers behind me, hoofstomping their acclaim.

“You are quite welcome, Master Sergeant! ’Tis well earned.” He returned the salute, and ’twas then he sprung his final and biggest surprise. “And that brings me to my last and most important order of business. For as you now meet the minimum rank requirement, I offer you appointment to the next Equestrian Officer Academy class in Canterlot, because ’tis now quite clear to me you wouldst make a superb commissioned officer! The Royal Guard only gets two slots per each entering class, and I hereby offer one… to you!” He removed a sealed scroll from his uniform jacket and passed it to me.

This time, my jaw dropped all the way to the ground as I accepted and scanned the document. Me? Become an officer? After less than a year? It had always been my dream to someday become Captain of the Guard, and to enter the academy was an important step along the way! Only a hundred ponies from all services were accepted annually for its two-year curriculum which involved extensive study of the many military subjects necessary to command large numbers of troops, and they typically went on to positions of great responsibility, such as base or division command.

But as quickly as my excitement grew, several thoughts brought me back down to earth. “Sir! I am honored! But wouldn’t this mean…” I looked around me at the base and battalion I had so meticulously built and shaped into my own.

Fairweather replied for him, nodding sagely. “It would indeed, Master Sergeant. But, on perchance a more melancholy note, ’tis also time to spread what you have accomplished here throughout the Corps. And to that end, we must break up Epsilon to do it. Many of your soldiers and NCOs will be reassigned in support of that effort, including your second. And speaking of whom: Sergeant First Class Fell Flight! Step Forth!” she ordered, and though surprised, my cat-eyed first officer immediately did so.

“Reporting, ma’am!” she said, saluting hard.

The General returned the gesture promptly. “Sergeant First Class! No commander is successful without the loyalty and competency of their second, and you have amply demonstrated both during your tenure here and at Omega before that.

“Your service reports are glowing and your combat skills unquestioned; you have gained the great respect of officers and enlisted alike. You deserve a reward more than simply another medal, and thus, methinks ’tis high time you command an outpost of your own! And so, by recommendation of Captain Sirocco now eagerly approved by me, you are promoted to Master Sergeant of the Corps! And as befits your new rank, you will shortly be named the next Commanding Officer... of Outpost Omega!” she informed my stunned second, whose slitted eyes went wide and jaw fell open as her new insignia was affixed by the General.

“Ma’am, I…” Methinks ’twas one of the few times my second was struck speechless. “I am honored. I-I thank you, ma’am!” she eventually stammered.

“You’re welcome, Master Sergeant. But I do expect Omega’s faltering readiness to be fixed under you, and these same training regimens applied!” she said in mock admonishment.

Fell Flight drew herself up straight. “Ma’am, you can count on me, ma’am!” She saluted again, quite crisply as the battalion hoofstomped their approval for a second time.

’Twas then that Gavian came up, looking very worried. “Mother? If you leave, then… what happens to me?” he asked almost forlornly.

“Ah yes, what about you, young gryphon?” Typhoon answered before I could, sharing a knowing glance with Fairweather. “After all, we could hardly neglect our future first Guardsmare officer’s adopted son.” He pulled out a fresh scroll and motioned Gavian forward.

“This, my young friend, is an offer of appointment to the Celestial Art Academy in Canterlot extended by Princess Celestia herself. There, you will be able to attend school, learning and practicing all the art you wish alongside great pony teachers, and truly begin your life among us. It will also enable you to stay close to your adoptive mother while she undergoes her own schooling in Canterlot. So perchance you will one day do me the honor of visiting my office there and painting my portrait?”

“I… it… ’twould be an honor, sir!” he managed through freshly teary eyes, looking every bit as dazed as I felt.

“The honor will be mine, young gryphon. And as my business here is concluded, I bid you all a fond farewell!” With that, Typhoon passed the command crystal back to Fairweather and the bugler played the high-ranking officer departure song as he boarded for his transport with his aides, followed swiftly by Fairweather on a second transport. I bid my parents goodbye on the latter as well, promising that I would visit them before entering for the academy in September. ’Twas a promise that would never be kept, for I knew not then the terrible truth:

That their appearance at Epsilon was destined to be the last time all of us would be together.

Sabaton - March to War

’Twas late July by the Equestrian calendar when the Prelate and I arrived back on the Equestrian continent of Equis, stepping off a supply ship disguised as common mariners.

We were not moving our troops back in by ship, knowing they would be far too easy for the Lances to spot; instead, our Diamond Dog allies had facilitated a new if slightly circuitous route through the north, enabling landings on the far northeastern Canarian coast followed by an underground passage to Cirrus Cassida. ’Twas there they drew their supplies before dispersing to various underground marshal points in mines and freshly dug tunnels, leaving very little surface trace of our slowly swelling invasion force, already over sixty thousand strong.

’Twas a slightly harrowing time for us, to be sure, as our troops were vulnerable in transit to attack or Diamond Dog treachery—a nightmare scenario was the EIS discovered our operations and then simply bribed the dogs to drop the roof on our collective heads—and I cannot say I enjoyed my time underground, which provided little opportunity for flight or sparring. But ’twas little for it except to cycle forces in and out of our large base at Eagle Aerie two legions at a time for training, never increasing numbers there and hoping any Lances watching didn’t notice ’twas never the same troops from week to week. We did the same at more minor bases set back further from the border, though we could not train as much as I would have liked given the need to not show undue military activity.

The Diamond Dog tunnels were still being dug, with nearly a dozen of them reaching slowly for the border. They would allow us to spring out of the ground almost on top of the Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps border bases, enabling our forces to destroy their garrisons and storm cloud caches right at the outset in a surprise attack. Such a strike would cripple the pony defense at the outset and throw the door to Equestria wide open, but for myself, I would not be involved in such actions. Instead, I was charged with planning and training forces for no less than two major operations on the first night of the war, though the Prelate declined my plea to lead one personally.

“I need you here at my side for the start of operations, but be assured you will get into the fight, my friend,” he told me, so I assigned other Talaeus officers to lead the operations in my place; both long range raids with very specific targets. One was intended to hit Cloudsdale to destroy the pony weather factories, but the other?

The other was far more personal to Talaeus such as myself; an attempt to not only cripple the Royal Guard at the outset, but strike a severe blow to pony morale by slaying one of their heroes and avenging a stain on Red Talon honor.

I threw myself into my work, and middle summer soon turned to late as the days flew by quickly; by the end of August, over half our troops were in place and ready. They still had a while to wait—the start of the invasion was set for dusk on October 17th by the Equestrian calendar, a date that would allow us to launch an overwhelming attack with thirty Talon legions and heavy Knight support that would coincide with the rise of what the ponies called the Harvest Moon—the full moon of October, when the harvest traditionally began.

I wouldn’t say this part of the Prelate’s plan was so much brilliance as simple common sense. We knew that the Equestrian Army was weakened during the harvest season with most of their earth ponies pulled away to tend their crops, so ’twas a perfectly logical time to attack and take advantage of their lowered readiness and numbers. The Aerial Corps compensated by increasing their own presence on the border during that time, but given the surprise attack we were planning via the Diamond Dog tunnels, they would just be more soldiers lost to the ponies at the start.

’Tis worth noting that the tunnels themselves would lead close to the border, but not under it, as we fretted there was a chance the ponies could detect their activity if it happened under their hooves. If even one was found and followed back to Imperial territory, surprise would be lost and Celestia’s wrath would fall upon us. That did not, however, preclude the Diamond Dogs from stepping up their usual raids in Equestria and kidnapping a few ponies along the way.

They knew to scan their troops for crystal implants by now, but civilians were another matter. For ’twas certain there were more than a few that could get close to various high-ranking members of the Equestrian military as aides or maids.

All seemed well as the end of August neared, but then an emergency message reached the Prelate’s underground headquarters near the former Raptor Base; one that potentially changed everything and was our greatest fear made real: Copies of our invasion plans had been stolen right out of the Citadel War Room by the most unforeseen and unlikeliest of spies imaginable, and the most desperate of races was now on to stop them from getting those documents to Equestria.

In the end, ’twas a race we knew we could not lose, or with it, we potentially lost the war itself.

And thus, we reach the doorstep of that war, though I have one more chapter before its arrival. Methinks I can only imagine the consternation that news must have caused you, Ambassador, as it was met scarcely less well on this side when those documents reached us. I thank you once again for sharing the Imperial side of this tale, as I did not honestly know how you managed to hide the bulk of your forces for so long until you explained it here. Prelate Gaius was unquestionably brilliant in his planning, though I believe to this day his biggest fault was that he made plans too complicated and too vulnerable to exposure or disruption.

One of several faults, Captain, as in the end he proved vulnerable to that which fell many a warrior and leader over the centuries: hubris. And in the end, I fear I was no different, believing we’d planned everything so perfectly, only to be reminded of an adage even the Empress herself once quoted: no plan survives first contact with the enemy. And methinks you wouldst agree, Captain, that such it would be for both sides here.

Author's Note

And there you go. One thing about Firefly is that she’s not a Mary Sue. She has to earn her skills and awards and she will suffer defeats, even some major ones, along the way. She does not start a complete warrior; even after graduating basic there’s still plenty of things for her to learn and levels of ability she has yet to reach... for the old saying that there is always someone better holds. Typhoon is such a pony; you don’t rise to Captain of the Guard without being a total badass yourself! As to how he has the abilities he does... let’s just say unicorns aren't the only ponies who can be elementals. But that’s a topic that will explored more later.

Regardless, hope everyone liked this chapter, a happy time to be had before the hammer falls. I will try hard to balance bad times with good, as even in the depths of the war I don’t want this to be wall-to-wall horror. I want to enjoy writing this, and that means I need it to have as much victory as defeat.

As always, I’d like to thank my loyal staff, including first officer Leo Archon, operations officer AJ_Aficionado, Adjutant SilentWoodFire and chief training officer Denim_Blue. There was lots of feedback and lots of interest in this chapter, which sparked plenty of discussion in the google doc comments. May it be the same below!

Part 20 - ... Before the Storm

Looking back, those last two months before war were an idyllic time not just for me, but for all of us. It couldn’t have been for Wind Whistler, of course, who was now well into the second half of her six-month basic regardless of how upbeat Windshear’s reports on her had become, but with so many rewards and accolades being showered on those of us at Epsilon, it all seemed too good to be true.

That it in fact was never occurred to me at that point, but with my command soon to be taken from me and the battalion I’d spent so much time training being split up to spread their skill throughout the Corps, ’twas a bittersweet time as well. We’d all become good friends and in the end we’d accomplished something truly special at Epsilon, turning our soldiers into crack troops and winning pitched battles against raider groups; even averting a war…

Or so we thought, having no idea of the danger that was growing beneath our very hooves. But with my own departure soon to come, I requested two weeks’ leave so that I might visit the Academy and also show both Canterlot and greater Equestria to my adopted son…

’Twas a heady time for all of us, soon to come crashing down around our collective ears. For in the end, I would never attend the academy, though methinks it ironic that I would still gain the rank of Captain and one day teach there. But even before that, my current Captain had shown me I still had a ways to climb to become the best warrior out there by beating me so soundly in our duel. I was determined to use what he showed me to fix yet another gap in my abilities, one he’d taken advantage of all too readily…

Starting Small

“I’m sorry, commander. Perchance you couldst repeat yourself?” Fell Flight stared at me in disbelief from where she hovered behind a storm cloud over our training fields after our weather teams were done practicing their accuracy, aiming bolts at both moving and stationary targets. “I could have sworn you just said to fire a lightning bolt directly at you!”

“Then perchance you shouldst obey your orders and do so, Master Sergeant,” I told her with an arched eyeridge. She’d seen me deflect a bolt when I fought Typhoon, if only barely, and though surprised by my feat, she was unimpressed here.

“With all due respect, ma’am, there is a huge difference between a small bolt fired from an improvised cloud like the Captain used, and a bolt coming from a military-grade storm cloud produced by the Cloudsdale weather factory! Methinks you don’t know how strong these bolts are! If you wish to develop your lightning affinity, then ’twould be best to start small, ma’am!” she nodded at some puffy cumulus clouds floating high over the desert. ’Twas the monsoon season, which meant that they could occasionally produce lightning, and rain that oft evaporated before it reached the ground… though once or twice we’d gotten a good deluge out of them, turning the canyon river into a raging torrent.

“And with all due respect to you, Master Sergeant, Gryphon mages and their lightning orbs can generate bolts that are as powerful as anything we can make. I wish to master the skills the Captain showed me, and that means I must be able to handle anything a mage may throw at me. Besides, I can already handle regular bolts; ’tis certain I could do that as a foal!”

I’d had Wind Whistler fire a few at me from naturally occurring clouds back in the day, though it hadn’t always turned out well. I can still keenly remember one time when I wasn’t fully ready and ended up flat on my back with my mane and tail badly singed; I’d gotten a scolding back at the orphanage for that one.

Unaware of my thoughts, Fell Flight actually sighed and shook her head. “Ignoring the fact that ’twould seem the Gryphons are no longer a threat, what if they use fire instead of lightning, ma’am?” she asked me pointedly, to which I generated a massive gust of wind with a wing as if to disperse a gout of flame.

I’d been practicing that for weeks as well, now able to generate storm-force winds as opposed to the mere gale ones I’d been able to do before, though I’d still not been able to create a cloud from the bare air as Captain Typhoon had. Then again, the dry atmosphere didn’t help that effort, leaving me in wonder anew that he’d still been able to do it. “Enough stalling, Master Sergeant. You have your orders, now carry them out!”

“’Tis your funeral, ma’am!” my second acceded, taking careful aim.

There was a blinding flash and boom, and then I was aware of nothing until I woke up in the infirmary an hour later surrounded by worried healers, being told pointedly and truthfully by Fell Flight what an idiot I was. Even though I’d readied myself for it, the lightning bolt had blasted right through my defense and knocked me out as well as thirty feet backwards; looking back on that whole foalish affair, ’twas only my affinity for it and the fact that Fell Flight only used a half-strength bolt (she would later tell me) that had kept my heart from stopping.

“Methinks ’twould be best for me to start small, Master Sergeant,” I told her ruefully from my infirmary bed, looking down at my freshly singed fur.

“Methinks that would be a very good idea, ma’am,” Fell Flight answered back in a tone even dryer than the desert.

Two weeks later, I was packing to leave along with Gavian, who was taking little more than his sword and a selection of artwork to show his prospective teachers at the Canterlot Art Academy. ’Twould be a lie to say he wasn’t more than a little nervous about leaving the confines of Epsilon and all his friends, fearful of how he would be received outside of it. But if he wished to come to Canterlot and remain with me as we both entered our respective academies, then ’twould be best for him to see the great city first and get some idea of what it would be like.

“Think of it as a grand adventure, Gavian,” I told him when he confided his fears in me one night after dinner. “For although ’tis true few ponies have ever seen a gryphon before outside of the military, this means you can be an ambassador for your kind, and perchance plant seeds for future friendship between our races. Remember also that Princess Celestia resides in Canterlot, and she not only likes you, her word is law!” I reminded him, to which he smiled and asked somewhat shyly if we could visit her again.

“Methinks we can,” I promised him, as I’d already requested an audience for us both, and though I hadn’t yet gotten word back on the precise date and time, ’twas certain to be granted by the time we arrived. My formal uniform was packed for the occasion, and if necessary we could find some formal attire for Gavian as well at one of the many clothier shops in the city.

Just then, there was a knock on my stateroom door. “Your transport has arrived, ma’am,” Blindside stuck her head in.

“Thank you, Sergeant. We’ll be leaving in five minutes,” I acknowledged, making one last round of my stateroom to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything. Fell Flight had already assumed command—I was already ceding much of my authority to her, giving her as much command responsibility as possible in advance of her taking charge of Outpost Omega, and also elevating a few other ponies to new positions in her wake. Though there wasn’t a new CO named yet for my coming departure, I’d recommended Flight Sergeant Osprey as operations officer, as she had more than redeemed herself in my eyes, and that Staff Sergeant Steelheart remain as training officer to continue the regimens we’d started here.

Master Sergeant Stormrunner and First Sergeant Still Way would be leaving, unfortunately, but not going back to being mere Celestial Guardsponies. Given their experience at Epsilon, the latter was being sent to develop a combat training regimen for Corps healer teams as he’d done here, whilst the former was being elevated to the newly created post of 5th Division Guardspony liaison, which would given him authority over all Corps-assigned Guardsponies attached to the 5th Division and direct the soon-to-be-implemented new training regimens being instituted Corps-wide.

The rollout was planned to start in September, after Epsilon was broken up and new procedures had been drawn up. In the meantime, we were entertaining various Corps outpost and division commanders who wished to see how our training worked, and all had left quite impressed. ’Tis worth noting that Captain Monsoon was not among them; apparently the terms of the duel he’d fought with Sirocco were such that the loser lost their command and was reassigned to headquarters. That made me doubly wish I’d witnessed the duel, or better yet, been able to do the deed myself to that arrogant stallion, but ’twas also certain that ’twould have been less meaningful than Sirocco or Blindside besting him…

Speaking of whom, I looked up to see Blindside was still standing in the doorway, looking strangely anxious. In fact, she’d been acting oddly around me for weeks now, though with everything else happening I hadn’t been able to pay it much mind. “Is there something else, Sergeant?” I asked her, arching an eyeridge at her.

She visibly cringed at that, her ears splayed flat against the side of her head. “There… there is, ma’am…” she finally got out. “Request permission to speak with you privately?”

“Very well,” I said as Gavian departed for the transport and my adjutant closed the door behind him. “What is it?” I said, studying her carefully and wondering again why she was acting so strangely around me. Sometimes it was nervous airs; others she just stood to rigid attention like now.

“Ma’am, I… I have reached a decision,” she told me, then proceeded to pull out a small scroll from inside her uniform tunic and passed it to me.

I accepted it and opened it, reading it quickly then looking up at her in surprise. “You wish to join the Lances?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “I do, ma’am,” she said in an a strangely defeated tone. “With Epsilon breaking up and you moving on, methinks ’tis time I do so as well, and this offer seems too good to pass up…” Her shoulders slumped as she spoke.

“I see…” I replied, thinking her reaction to such a momentous choice seemed far too forlorn. “Then I will happily convey this message to my mother, and you can expect to receive new orders shortly,” I told her, watching her reaction carefully.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she told me, standing at attention but staring straight ahead and past me like she couldn’t even look at me.

At that point, I’d had enough and decided to get to the bottom of whatever was eating her, walking around my desk to get directly in front of her. “Sergeant, is there a reason why you’ve been avoiding me lately?” I asked her directly, observing her face carefully.

It did indeed crack, her blue eye going almost panicked for a moment. Recognizing my advantage, I pressed it. “I haven’t asked because we’ve had so many visitors of late, but your focus is clearly elsewhere as you’ve made several sloppy mistakes in reports these last couple weeks and lost several sparring matches to ponies you wouldst normally not. So spit it out. What’s on your mind?”

She swallowed visibly and started to sweat in a reaction I’d never seen from anypony before. “Ma’am, I…” she stammered for several seconds, and then finally got out three words: “Y-You are, ma’am,” she said in defeat, going downcast. “You are. All the time.” She added, finally raising her suddenly teary eye to meet mine.

I didn’t take her meaning at first, only getting it when I saw the way she was looking at me, my eyes widening for it and uncertain how to respond. “You mean you—”

“Ma’am. Yes, ma’am.” She turned her head away and closed her eyes tightly. “Ever since you saved me in the battle. And now that you’re going to be leaving…” the rest went unsaid.

For one of the few times in my life, I was struck speechless. Fraternization was frowned upon in both the Corps and the Guard, but it did happen, especially out on the frontier where you had to live in close quarters with and rely on each other. The Corps tended to turn a blind eye to it for the most part as long as it did not interfere with good order and discipline; ’twas hardly a secret that the few stallions on base tended to end up servicing more than a few mares during their time here. Herds were known to start from such arrangements of convenience that grew into something more.

’Twas also not uncommon in Equestrian society for mares to enter relationships in the absence of a stallion, doubly so on an Aerial Corps border base that was over ninety percent female! I’d heard anecdotally of a few such relationships, but never dreamed I’d be the target of one!

“I see…” I told her cautiously, though it seemed woefully inadequate to her admission, which certainly explained all her odd behavior of late! I’d never considered romantic involvement in the past; my only love affair had been with the Guard, though I admit I’d been given some moments of thrill when I’d dueled Sky Sentry and found him surprisingly good and a worthy test. But in the end, I’d barely thought about stallions, let alone mares, and in any event, certain things that were considered okay for lower ranked soldiers were simply not proper between a base commander and a much-lower ranked subordinate. “Methinks I understand how hard this was for you…”

“No, ma’am,” she replied. “What’s hard for me is knowing that once this base is broken up, I won’t be able to stay at your side or even see you for many months—if not years!—after this. What’s hard is knowing that given our difference in rank and ability, you cannot return my interest, and I am not your peer, ma’am!” Her words came quickly now. “’Tis my hope that by joining the Lances, I will become as good as you and then can one day stand at your side as an equal, both in rank and in skill. That then and only then, will I be truly worthy of your friendship. And perchance more.” She stifled a sob, now shaking badly.

Of all the tests of command and combat I had received and passed over the previous year, this was in some ways the one I was least trained or ready for! I chose my next words very carefully, knowing that they would likely echo down the course of her career and life. “I thank you for sharing this. But even were it not for our large difference of rank, I fear I am far from ready for such a thing, my friend,” I told her gently. “But for the courage you have shown and unquestioned ability you possess, I do believe you are ready for the Lances.”

Seeing her sadness, I put my hooves on her shoulders. “This admission does not change that you are my friend, Blindside, nor that I care for you. I wish to see you succeed as a Black Lance, and wish very much to see the warrior you can yet become. Even after we depart, we will meet again one day, and then?” I grinned. “We will spar and share a drink, after which who can say? But whatever the future holds for us both, know that I am glad to have met you and very proud to have you here with me. I saved you once, and who knows? Perchance you can one day yet save me,” I finished with a smile, having no idea how prophetic those words truly were.

She looked up at that, her eyes glimmering as she considered her response. The one she finally came up with was completely unexpected as she suddenly reached in and kissed me hard, then ran out of the room at her top speed, covering her good eye with a wing.

Thank you for sharing this story, My Captain, and for not asking me to write it. For as hard as it was for me to go through at the time, methinks I could not have managed it here, either! —Blindside

You’re very welcome, my friend. Though I told the truth at the time when I said I was far from ready, be assured, you didst get me thinking, and before long I found myself hoping that in time, you wouldst succeed in the Lances so the differences in skill and stature between us would be less. When it came down to it, you were right—I did need an equal for a partner, as it turned out, and over the years I would find several… including some in surprising places! —Firefly

City in the Sky

’Twas hard to believe that for all the time Gavian had spent with us at that point, he’d still seen nothing of Equestria outside of the immediate area around Epsilon and a brief stay at Gamma after he’d been initially captured.

’Twas thus that he faced his first real trip into our nation with both trepidation and excitement, wondering what he would see and how he would be received as our transport took off. Instead of the small dirigibles we used, the Gryphons had special air carriages pulled by sky gryphons, not unlike the small passenger chariots you could hire in towns but much bigger, designed to carry Earth Gryphons and large amounts of goods alike. Being able to fly hundreds of miles at a time, Sky Gryphons like Gavian didn’t need them for the most part, though he granted that they still needed ships to cross the vast expanse of ocean between their homeland and their colonies on the Equestrian continent.

As we got moving and gained altitude, he watched in some wonder as the desert gave way within just a few dozen ‘leagues’ to fertile farmlands and forest as pony weather control came into play the further away from the border we got. The Foal Mountains were lush and the towns nestled in them quite colorful, far more so than the rather drab structures we used for our outposts; more than once he grabbed for his sketchpad to draw what he saw.

In fact, by the end of our trip he’d filled half a dozen sheets of scroll paper with scribbles, to the amusement of our pilot and Swift Strike. The latter had insisted on coming with us as Gavian’s bodyguard in his usual guise of Corporal Zephyr; his orders said he was accompanying us as my aide.

’Twas only when our first destination appeared in the distance that Gavian truly became awestruck, as Cloudsdale floated into view. ’Twas my first visit to the great city of the sky as well, and in truth, ’tis certain I was not unaffected either. Mere stories and descriptions did not do it justice, between the massive cloud structure the various levels of the city sat on to the ornate architecture and columns hearkening back to the imperial pegasi of old.

And that was to say nothing of all the colorful ponies flitting to and fro, the rainbow falls, and the large and prominent weather factory dominating one end of the skyline, occasionally spitting out a fresh cloud to be immediately tended by the weather workers. Fell Flight’s family and Blindside’s mother lived here, I knew, though the thought of the latter and our talk just hours earlier still made me blush. I honestly had no idea how I was going to deal with our remaining time together at that point, but I had two weeks leave to consider it, and intended to make the most of them.

A honor guard from the Corps 1st Division, which was responsible for defending Cloudsdale and central Equestria, was waiting as we docked at a transport platform and disembarked; the local garrison commander, First Lieutenant Silver Streak, there to greet us.

“Welcome to Cloudsdale, Master Sergeant Firefly!” He said after he’d called present arms and I’d returned the salute, sparing Gavian a slightly wary glance. “We are honored by your presence here.”

“Good to be here, First Lieutenant,” I told him, sparing him an appraising glance of my own and thinking that both he and the soldiers that accompanied him looked far too soft. And was that because they weren’t assigned to the border, or was it simply a function of me being around my own trim and well-trained troops for so long? “Here are my orders,” I passed him the scroll that bore his instructions as well as the seal of General Fairweather, and he made a show of looking over them even though he full well knew what was in them.

“Everything is in order and ready,” he told me. I’d been granted leave on the condition that I also do a few recruiting stops and give some speeches, including a series of them at Cloudsdale. To that end, a whirlwind tour had been arranged by the Corps of a few select locations, beginning as soon as I stepped off the transport. “We have quarters arranged for both you and your… son.” he gave Gavian another look, trying to hide his distaste. “But I’m afraid that for his safety and for that of others, we must ask that he remove his weapon.”

I pinned him with a look. “His sword stays,” I told him in no uncertain terms, passing him another order from General Fairweather to that effect, one I had personally requested. “As there may be some who wish him ill, I will not have him disarmed.”

He looked unhappy as he read it over, but acceded. “Very well, ma’am. Methinks he is more than welcome to accompany us. So if you will then follow me?”

Friend or Foe

We took flight over the surprisingly large and sprawling city, the First Lieutenant playing the part of tour guide whilst the rest of the squad he had with us played escort, flanking us six to a side. Gavian stuck close to me, somewhat nervous about the looks he was getting from the soldiers but surprising Silver Streak by asking him questions in Equish, even once or twice grabbing pen and parchment from his satchel to quickly sketch something when we alit.

Our first stop was a place I’d heard about from many different ponies—the Cloudsdale flight school, used to train young pegasi at an early age. They sent instructors down into the earthbound towns to help train pegasi there, as had happened with me, but as much as possible they preferred that pegasi come to Cloudsdale instead, which was our ancestral home. When we arrived, the head of the school greeted me, and I was surprised when I saw a large and well-built stallion off to one side, wearing the uniform of a flight instructor, underneath which was a grey coat and blonde mane punctuated with a lightning bolt cutie mark.

I knew who he was; Blindside and Fell Flight had told me of him in the past, if not all the particulars at that point. He also had a reputation as a magnificent soldier and fighter, one who had in fact turned down commendation for his role in the Phoenix Fire operation, where his exploits and martial feats featured prominently in the news scrolls. Which, in hindsight, ’tis certain was to his great chagrin.

Regardless, after giving my speech and formally introducing Gavian to the students as ‘an example of what friendship can do,’ I sought him out, stepping before him and saluting. “Good to meet you, Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt. I have heard much of you from no less than two of my subordinates.”

He returned the salute with a strangely wan grin. “I’ve resigned my commission, so it’s just ‘Flight Instructor’ now, Master Sergeant. And methinks I have heard much of you from my former students as well. You have captured the imagination of many in my classes, and you honor us with your presence.” He looked me over from head to hoof; I sensed a practiced warrior eye appraising me.

“’Tis my honor to be here,” I quickly answered, doing the same back, but keeping half an eye on Gavian the whole time even though I knew Swift Strike had his back. As he was not around soldiers, his reception was less leery, he seemed more a curiosity to the pegasus foals than anything else, who, ’twas certain, had never seen a gryphon before. Some were even chancing coming up to him and speaking with him, to the evident consternation of their parents. “Fell Flight and Blindside offer their regards,” I passed him a pair of letter scrolls.

He accepted them with a more genuine smile. “Thank you,” he acknowledged, sparing Gavian a glance but then just as quickly looking away, a pained shadow passing briefly over his face. “Methinks I had heard you adopted a young gryphon as your son, but methinks I also did not believe it possible until now. I understand he was a former raider?” he asked, though I might have imagined the unfavorable note in his voice.

“’Tis true, but before that he was an orphan abandoned by his own parents for his small size,” I quickly said, reciting a well-practiced speech I’d come up with for answering the inevitable questions of why I adopted him; one I was planning to use in some public speeches to come. “He joined out of desperation, as I’m sure far too many do. But when he was captured, the Empire tried to kill him with Ravens for fear of what he would reveal, and thus he threw his lot in with us,” I explained.

“He told us everything he could, and ’tis no exaggeration to say that his information averted a war with the Empire and saved thousands of lives. Celestia awarded him Equestrian citizenship for his efforts, and we began schooling him in both academic and artistic subjects, all of which he took to eagerly.

“’Twas not instant, but over time, we came to see him as something more than an enemy; over time I felt closer and closer to him and until finally he saw me as his mother whilst I saw him as not just a friend, but a son.” With those words, I cast an affectionate and prideful glance his way. “His size is small, but his potential vast; he is now skilled with not just his sword, but has a surprisingly strong talent for drawing and will soon enter the Canterlot Art Academy.”

“Truly?” Thunderbolt said, then hesitated for a moment, looking over at him a second time. He hesitated for a moment more, but then seemed to reach a decision. “Perchance I might meet him then?” he requested politely.

‘Tis certain the idea would have given me far more pause if I’d known his past at that point, but methinks in hindsight, he meant Gavian no harm. Neigh, he was merely testing himself, trying to determine if his bloodlust or hatred for gryphons remained in the face of one who was not foe but friend.

So I escorted Thunderbolt up, not immediately catching Swift Strike’s alarmed look at his approach, though I did notice the disguised Black Lance shifting fractionally in case he had to intervene immediately.

I wasn’t sure what that was about, but I couldn’t imagine there was any sort of threat, and even if there was, if Gavian couldn’t handle it, Swift Strike or I certainly could. “Gavian, I’d like you to meet a former mentor of Blindside and Fell Flight. This is former Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt,” I motioned to my right.

“Lieu-tenant?” he recognized the officer rank and immediately stood to attention and saluted in the pony manner. “Pleased to meet you, sir! My friends have spoken good of you.” He bared his throat and offered his curled talons in greeting.

“Spoken well,” I corrected him. “Forgive him, sir. He’s still learning Equish, but he’s come a very long way in just six months.”

Thunderbolt didn’t reply immediately, staring a little too fixedly at him and making Swift Strike’s hoof move towards one of his hidden blades. But whatever was going through his mind, the large stallion noticed Swift Strike and smirked, then finally returned the salute and smiled, bumping his hoof to Gavian’s talons. “Pleased to meet you as well, young fledgling. And I think you’re surprisingly well-spoken. You’ve clearly taken to your lessons well to be speaking our language in but half a year,” he noted. “Tell me, how well can you fly?”

“Quite well!” Gavian answered and ’twas certainly the truth. “I can fly the base obstacle course with ease and even spar with soldiers!”

“Truly?” Thunderbolt said again in genuine surprise, giving me an incredulous look.

“Truly,” I confirmed. Methinks I was not fully certain what to make of his reactions, which seemed a little off, somehow. “He’s trained hard and made himself so much a part of our base that our soldiers not only accept him, they’re willing to practice with him. He’s a fine opponent and becoming quite a good warrior in his own right—one ’tis certain his smaller size meant the Empire would never have allowed him to be.”

“I see.” Thunderbolt initially looked as if he wasn’t sure what to make of that. But then he smiled again and spoke in Aeric, to Gavian’s surprise, who answered in kind.

I didn’t know what was being said, but in the end, the pair bumped hooves again and Gavian gave him a parting salute, which Thunderbolt returned before flying off back to his students. “What did he say?” I asked him.

“He wished me luck and said he might want to test me!” Gavian announced eagerly. “Even invited me over tomorrow morning before school so we can spar! Can I, mother?”

“With respect, methinks that’s not a good idea, ma’am,” Swift Strike finally spoke up, an unusual edge to his voice. “Thunderbolt’s fame precedes him, but ’tis not generally known that he has a very… troubled past, and some very bad experiences with gryphons,” he said shortly and in clipped tones, looking after the former lieutenant as he rejoined his students. “That’s not a slur against you, Gavian. I don’t know that anything bad would happen; it may even be likely that nothing will. But he has some dangerous demons and methinks it best not to tempt them,” he added on seeing our gryphon friend go a bit crestfallen, giving me a look that said in no uncertain terms not to let Gavian near Thunderbolt again.

In the end, I acceded to that, making an excuse to both that would keep him away. For although Gavian would be disappointed, if Thunderbolt made a veteran Lance like Swift Strike of all ponies nervous enough to warn us away, that was reason enough to listen. And it would be many weeks more before I would truly understand why.

Militia Melee

In the end, we stayed in Cloudsdale three days, visiting the Corps base and recruiting center, the old Pegasopolis history museum, and last but not least, the weather factory. Twas there I met Fell Flight’s pegasus parents, who said they’d heard much about me from their daughter, thanking me for ‘seeing past her eyes’ and accepting her as my second. Though somewhat surprised at that—it’d never been an issue with me, but apparently Cloudsdale pegasi were a bit more purist about such things—I thanked them in turn for raising such a superb soldier, though they quickly said they could take no responsibility for it, as nopony else in their family had ever entered the military before!

I gave speeches encouraging Corps enlistment at each place I visited in front of surprisingly large audiences; in the end my jaw started to get sore from all the talking I did and autographs I signed. To those who asked if they could join the Guard themselves, I gave the same answer—you may, but make very sure you were doing so for the right reasons: to serve Equestria and help others, not for hope of honor or personal glory.

We did not see Thunderbolt again, but that didn’t mean there was no trouble. Some uniformed Cloudsdale militia members found us at dinner and started taunting Gavian one evening, calling him a chicken as well as other various slurs—so he respectfully asked for my permission to ‘put them in their place’. Upon receiving it—I knew he could deal with them at this point; his skills had only grown further since he won his fight with Osprey—he challenged them to a duel whilst Swift Strike and I watched close and made clear that if his opponents exceeded the nonlethal terms of the fight, they would quickly and sorely regret it.

Though the three were armed with older wingblade models, Gavian did me proud by taking them all on at once and even made a point of outflying and beating them without ever drawing his sword, though I don’t think his opponents understood how badly he was insulting them by keeping it sheathed, in effect saying they were not worthy of his blade. Regardless, after all the times he’d sparred with me, Swift Strike, Fell Flight and all the other Corps troops, three half-trained militia soldiers were nothing to him. He bested them easily with beak and talons alone and didn’t hurt them too badly, even doing me proud by head-butting the last one into submission like he’d seen me do a few times!

And his reward for winning? He simply told them to buy him some of the pastry cakes from a local bakery he’d tried earlier that day and loved, and to fight him again only after they’d “become real soldiers”, ordering them to enter the Aerial Corps!

Seat of the Sun

After Cloudsdale came Canterlot, his first ever visit to the Equestrian Capital and my second. We arrived after a three-hour transport flight, to Gavian’s disappointment—his earlier nerves now gone after three good days in Cloudsdale, he was much more eager to see Equestria and hoped to fly there ourselves when he learned it was ‘but sixty leagues’. Though a stretch for most pegasi, that was well within a sky gryphon’s flying range and mine or Swift Strike’s as well, but I had to tell him no—that a gryphon approaching Canterlot from the air might ‘cause some consternation’ (I had to define the word for him after that) and it was best to arrive by scheduled transport at a time and place we would be expected.

A gleaming alabaster city built into the side of a mountain, Canterlot was just as awe-inspiring from the air as I remembered it, though it had been a decade or more since I last saw it. Gavian was no less stunned by the sight of it, hurriedly sketching it as we approached, adding to the dozens of drawings he’d already made on our trip.

We arrived without incident to a Royal Guard honor guard headed up by First Lieutenant Spellbinder, the unicorn head of the Celestial Guard and given a quartet of Guardsponies to act as our escorts… along with, I had no doubt, EIS agents watching over us from the alleyways and shadows, ready to take out any assassin that came near. I didn’t think there’d be any here, but you never knew—if nothing else I’d received a few reports before leaving that said Diamond Dog activity was up in recent weeks; there’d even been robberies and tunnels found not far from Canterlot.

After a tour of Corps Headquarters and a meeting with General Fairweather—and yes, she did pose so Gavian could keep his promise to sketch her portrait that day—we were escorted to the enormous Celestial Castle, home of the Princess herself. Our presence was expected; I had received notice at Cloudsdale that we’d been granted a private audience with the Princess, specifying a time and place to be there.

For all he’d already seen, Gavian was most in awe as the three of us walked down the long and very opulent hallway leading to where the Princess held court, lined with massive glass windows each depicting a different scene in Equestrian history, gold-armored Celestial Guardsponies standing sentry at intervals whilst a few mare maids and orderlies tending various housekeeping duties gave Gavian wary but not fearful glances, leaving me no doubt that they were PSD agents ready to cut him down instantly if he proved any sort of threat.

Finally, we arrived before the great hall itself, guarded by two enormous doors. The unicorn Guardsponies pulled them open to reveal… a long plush carpet leading to a magnificent throne, upon which sat the solar princess herself.

Gavian visibly swallowed at her sight, and I cannot say I was any less awed as our presence was announced. “My Princess, may I present Master Sergeant Firefly of the Armored Guard, together with her aide, Corporal Zephyr Sparrow and her adopted son, Gavian Ravenoff!” Celestia’s pegasus High Chancellor announced, and if I hadn’t been so overawed by our surroundings myself, I might have taken more notice of her wide eyes and twitching wings.

“Welcome to Canterlot, my friends. Approach and be recognized,” Celestia invited with a warm smile, her mane billowing out to the side in three pastel shades as it often did.

Walking that path to her seemed interminably long, though in reality it couldn’t have taken more than twenty seconds. When we got before her, we all flared our wings and bowed low; it later occurred to me that I never saw Gavian bow except before the princess herself. When I finally asked him about it, he said it was because gryphons only ever bowed before royalty.

“My Princess.” I held my bow as I spoke. “We are honored to be in your presence,” I offered, and ’twas certainly the truth—for all she had done for me, Gavian and so many others, she was the epitome of a wise and just ruler in my mind.

“Th-thank you for having me, M-My Princess” Gavian added somewhat nervously, his feathers slightly ruffled; his wings and tail twitching anxiously.

“Be at ease, my young friend. And be honored. For you are the first of your race to ever grace these halls,” she told him, giving him a warm and friendly smile. “’Tis my great hope that you will be but the first of many gryphons who come here in peace and friendship.”

Gavian smiled somewhat more wanly in return—’twas certain he had no love for the Empire at that point, and certainly didn’t see himself as a representative of it. But as an emissary for his race, if not the Empire…?

“You honor me, Princess Celestia,” he finally raised himself out of his bow. “For all I have learned of friendship as well as the Equish language, ’tis my fondest hope our two races might yet be allies as well…”

Off to School

After a private hourlong tea session with the princess where she personally introduced Gavian to Picture Perfect, the unicorn headmistress of the art academy, we went with her there via royal carriage, where she allowed Gavian to wander somewhat dazed through the galleries of great pony artists and sculptors of the past.

Though no art connoisseur myself, I could certainly appreciate the skill I saw, and from the looks of things Gavian could as well, suddenly finding his own quite wanting. Nevertheless, at the headmistress’s behest, he showed her his many sketches and drawings, and found himself the subject of praise and an impromptu lesson, as she showed him quickly how to vary his pen pressure and different angles of the quill to produce fluid lines of varying thickness at different parts of the stroke to surprisingly good effect. Fascinated, he tried it himself with somewhat less success, but he was now quite excited, and eager to see more.

My experience with most Canterlot unicorns ’twas always that they were somewhat snobbish, but Picture Perfect seemed to be an exception to that rule, as she answered all his questions carefully, including where he would be housed and what the classes were like. In answer to that, she simply introduced him to one class in progress, causing many heads to turn when he entered. When challenged by the startled and somewhat dubious students to show what he could do, he did so, turning out a quick sketch… of the princess on her throne.

Though a few sniffed at that, pointing out various flaws I could only describe as nitpicking, Picture Perfect silenced the neighsaying by saying that he’d already shown great talent and skill for being self-taught, to say nothing of using his talons to hold a quill instead of a magical aura!

By the end of the day, he was ready to begin his studies there immediately, but knew he’d have to wait for the start of next term, still six weeks away. “Can you wait that long?” I teased him as we headed to our final destination of the day, the Equestrian Officer Academy.

“’Tis like Valhalla, mother…” he told me, which I recognized as a reference to the Gryphon version of the Summerlands. “So much to learn here…”

“And you will have plenty of time to do so,” Swift Strike reminded him, pleased by his enthusiasm.

“Indeed,” I confirmed, “because I’m going to be here with you in Canterlot for the next two years…”

* * * * *

After we’d visited his future school, ’twas time for me to visit my own.

The Equestrian Officer Academy was a surprisingly small facility, as it only ever housed around two hundred students at a time. There were some small training grounds and a few drill fields, but unlike basic, most of the work here was academic in nature, focusing on mastering various military subjects. These included such topics as history, strategy and tactics, ranging from retrospectives of the great battles of old to simple study of the oft-neglected yet supremely important military arts like logistics or supply.

Whilst there, I would lose my sergeant stripes and instead bear the title of ‘mustang’, which was an old term they used for officers that were elevated from the enlisted ranks as opposed to a military college or academy. It used to be that officers and enlisted were trained separately at the start, the former drawn from nobles and the more educated classes, but ’twas later realized that the best officers came from the ranks and thus, you could only be selected for officer training once you’d proven yourself worthy with years of superb service and a high enlisted rank. For most ponies, it was a culmination of their careers to become a commissioned officer; most never got the chance and others were simply content with their station and did not wish to spend two years of their lives in effect starting over.

I was not such a pony, on either count. I had shot through the ranks with incredible speed and earned this opportunity in record time. There were some times I wondered if I was truly worthy of it, but then I remembered that not just General Fairweather but even Captain Typhoon, who was the most powerful pegasus I’d ever met, had found me deserving. Sadly, he was not present in Canterlot when I was there, on leave himself to visit his herd in the south, but there was little for it. I’d already been graced with his presence twice before, and that was far more than many young Guardsponies ever got.

Regardless, I found the school satisfactory and looked forward to starting there in eight weeks. I’d already received a slew of materials to start studying even before I arrived, and knew I was going to have my head buried in books for a while. Wind Whistler would no doubt tease me for it when the time came, as much as she would likely be disappointed that I would disappear into the academy for two years, but perchance ’twas for the best—’twould give her some seasoning before I emerged a Second Lieutenant, and perchance I could get her under my future command then.

Friend and Teacher

We stayed in Canterlot for two more days before moving on, touring the city privately now that my immediate duties were complete, seeing everything from the Canterlot gardens to sampling wares from the very high end pastry shops. Gavian proved surprisingly popular with the nobles and Canterlot elite whilst we were there, in part because he was a novelty and in part because ’twas known that he had the Princess’ favor, and thus to curry favor with him was to do so with her in their minds. And from there? ’Twas time to return to my foalhood home, several hours flight to the southeast.

Whilst my hometown of Spur was certainly a step or five down from the opulence of Canterlot, there was nothing quite like the feeling of coming home after a protracted period away. Our transport touched down in Fort Spur’s airfield around lunchtime—I’d asked for such an arrival time so ’twould be more likely I would not be interrupting anything and the Sergeant Major would be available. And it worked, as we found Windshear waiting for us at the dock.

“Welcome back, Master Sergeant,” he said as he returned my salute, noting the addition of a sixth stripe to my shoulders with a pleased smile. “I see you’ve gone and jumped yet another rank. At this rate, perchance it won’t be long before I have to salute you?”

“Perchance sooner than you think, Sergeant Major,” I replied with a grin. “Captain Typhoon has secured me a place in the next class of the Equestrian Officer Academy.”

Windshear nodded and smiled. “I am well aware, Master Sergeant. They announced it to all of us at reveille when it happened. Methinks the pleased look on your sister’s face was something to behold.” He was hiding it well, but I could tell he was quite proud of me. “’Tis certain you have come a long way in such a short time. ’Tis no exaggeration on my part to say you are one of the finest Guardsponies I have ever trained.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said with a nod and a slight blush. I badly wanted to ask him directly about Wind Whistler, but it could wait for a bit as I then gestured to Gavian, who was hanging back slightly, perchance intimidated by the large and muscular stallion before him wearing a wingblade cutie mark and the stripes of a Sergeant Major. “Sergeant Major Windshear, I believe ’tis time you meet a very special lad. This is Gavian Ravenoff, the fine young tiercel who provided us the intelligence needed to thwart the Empire’s plans for an invasion of Equestria.”

He turned to Gavian and sized him up, noting his small stature and the Raven scimitar on his back. “Welcome to Equestria and Fort Spur, young fledgling. ’Tis certain I never thought the day would come when I could greet a gryphon as a friend.” He offered him his hoof and a surprisingly warm smile.

Taking his cue, Gavian stepped forward and respectfully bared his throat, bumping his curled talons to the Sergeant Major’s hoof. “Thank you, sir. Mother speaks good… er, well of you,” he quickly corrected with a glance at me. “She says you were her ment-or.” He took great pains to pronounce the previously unfamiliar word properly.

Windshear smiled at that. “I suppose I was. To this day, methinks she’s the only recruit who was ever able to best me one-on-one. And I may yet seek a rematch for it, Master Sergeant.” He grinned at me to which I grinned back.

“’Twould be my greatest pleasure, Sergeant Major. I take it none of the new recruits hold such promise?” I asked him slightly teasingly.

“Well, methinks one might…” he granted. “But enough small talk. Time is as short as the lunch hour, so I assume you wouldst wish to use it to discuss your sister…?”

* * * * *

I did indeed, so Gavian and I followed him back to his office, and I’m sure ’twas a startling sight to see a gryphon flying alongside us to anypony watching. Upon entering at the Sergeant Major’s invitation, Gavian took one look at the back wall and immediately stopped short. His eyes went wide as he spotted the Red Talon regalia, recognizing the implications immediately as both Windshear and I grimaced, kicking ourselves at the belated realization that it was evidence the former had killed gryphons in the past. Then again, I had too, so why would he hold that against him?

Nevertheless, I held my breath as Gavian stared at the Sergeant Major, not in shock or fear, but in what I could only describe as excitement. “You slew… Talaeus?” he asked in disbelief, his Equish faltering slightly again as he pointed a trembling talon at the trophies.

Windshear looked at him, then to me, asking how he should answer. I gave him a brief nod in response, knowing there was little point in denying the obvious. “Yes, young gryphon. I did,” he admitted somewhat warily. “And forgive me, but… ’tis not a tale I care to share.”

Gavian gaped at him, his expression awestruck, then stepped back and startled us both when he drew his sword from his back. I wasn’t immediately sure what he was doing until he came to rigid attention… and saluted the Sergeant Major, holding the blade vertical whilst baring his throat. “I am honored and in your debt, sir!” he said, keeping his sword upright. “The Talaeus you slew… I knew him. And I hated him.”

Though as surprised and confused as I was, Windshear returned the salute. “You knew him? How?” he had to ask. “And how could you recognize him from this?”

With his salute returned, he finally resheathed his sword. “Unlike Talons, Talaeus are allowed to... to al-ter their weapons and armor as they wish!” he explained excitedly, stumbling slightly over the one word. “Thus, each dresses diff-er-ent! And that helm-et… I have seen it before! It has the crest of the Calea clan, worn only by First Spear Miyal Calea!” he recited, causing Windshear to gape at him in surprise.

“That… is correct…” Windshear confirmed, his jaw still slack. “But… how do you know him?”

“From when he bull-ied and beat me.” Gavian sniffled and his wings twitched at the memory. “When I was but eight, I scavenged from the trash pile at Eagle Base constantly. He caught me once and thrashed me, leaving me buried in the garbage whilst telling me I was trash, but it didn’t stop there. He then made it sport to hunt me and hurt me at least once every few days. No matter where I hid, he found me. He forced me to beg for my life and then put blades to my throat, constantly threatening to kill me, making me wish he finally would!” Gavian’s beak and voice were trembling.

“He told me more than once that when he finally got tired of me, he’d slay me. He left me beaten and in fear for my life for weeks! But then, all at once… it stopped. And then I learned why—that he had been slain… by a pony! By you!” Gavian pointed a talon at Windshear. “Methinks I was never so happy as that day I heard the news and knew I was safe. I owe you my life, Sergeant Major. I am in your debt as much as mother’s, now and forever!” He bared his throat at my mentor, hard.

I was scarcely less shocked by the revelation than Windshear, who could only stare stunned at first. “Then… you are very, very welcome, young gryphon,” he finally said, “though ’twould be a lie to say I knew anything of you at the time. Methinks from my encounter with him, that does sound like him, though…” His own eyes narrowed in memory. “He was a murderer, not a warrior. A cruel and callous brute who broke his own orders to attack Omega, seeking vengeance, or so he said, for lost honor. I fought him to save a village, and ’twas a terrible fight indeed.” He shook his head in memory.

“But methinks it pleases me to know that it had such far-reaching effects. Thank you for sharing this with me, Gavian Ravenoff. And if you wish to thank me, you may do so by simply being the honorable gryphon you clearly are, and by becoming the best son, friend and warrior you can.”

Gavian saluted him again at that. “I will, sir. On that, I give you my word!”

The discussion of Wind Whistler was almost anticlimactic after that. She was doing increasingly well, Windshear assured me, and now stood a better than fifty percent chance of not only completing training, but graduating a Corporal.

“The stallions have given her no more guff, now that she finally showed she could effectively fight back. To be sure, she is gaining the ability to carry her armor more slowly than the rest, and ’tis certain she will never win a contest of strength with a Guardspony stallion, but methinks I’ve never seen a smarter recruit, or one who can so readily spot weaknesses and turn their opponent’s attacks against them!” he told me, asking me if I wanted to visit her and the now but forty stallions that remained out of the original hundred-strong pegasus recruit class.

I declined. As much as I might have wanted to see her, that would smack of favoritism or using my rank to unfair advantage. But I swore I would be there for her graduation and to see her in her new armor, saying that my one indulgence would be that when the time came, I would present her new rank myself…

In the end, methinks ’twas but one more promise that could not be fulfilled, but in its place, another would be. For my beloved sister would soon face her own terrible trial along with the rest of her recruit class, and be fighting at my side far sooner than either of us dreamed possible.

Author's Note

Set a new record on this one, folks, churning out the entire chapter in just a single day in the span of fourteen hours, mostly because I was desperate for a break from a very difficult Five Star Service chapter. Can’t even say I knew that much about what I wanted to write other than a couple very general ideas, I just started writing and didn’t stop, grinding it out beginning to end. To be sure, I can’t take credit for the ending sequence between Gavian and Windshear; that was Leo’s idea and I ran with it.

Thanks as always to my prereading team for a rapid response and tons of comments on the parent google doc, including as always AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, Denim_Blue, TheGoldCrow and Leo Archon. They had a good time with this one, and hopefully you will too!

On a side note, the musical selections in here are all from Pokemon Super Mystery Dungeon, as homage to TheGoldCrow’s fandub playthrough series of it, which I’ve been giving him running commentary on. TheGoldCrow, you may recall, was the voice of Phoenix Wright in Turnabout Storm, and does a lot of VA work for other projects as well, including this one of his own design. It’s very well-produced and makes an already good game even more interesting, so feel free to check it out!

Part 21 - Rubicon

Happiness and hate. Love and loss. Rage and regret. Triumph and terror. I felt all those emotions in the space of but a single week as August turned to September… and peace turned to war.

Methinks I was amazed and appalled that everything could turn so abruptly, that everything you knew and loved could be shattered so quickly and so readily. ’Tis cliche but still true that you never know what you have until it is nearly lost, whether it is friendship or your very nation. And should you survive it, ’tis certain you will never be the same or take all you know and love for granted again.

Even when I realized what was coming, methinks I did not truly understand what it meant, or how it would change me. All I knew then was my command and my duty, and I swore to carry them both out.

Still, there were some happy times in the leadup to the war, ones that would cement our bonds and leave us all even more willing to fight and die for each other than we already were. ’Twas those bonds that would sustain us through the weeks and months to come, even when all hope seemed lost.

Indeed, Captain. And one thing I would wish to say up front is that you were right when you said we had done something special at Epsilon.

Even now, I can’t quite put my hoof on it, but ‘twas some combination of mixed services, good training, and simple esprit de corps that we found there, one that even affected me, making me an even better soldier and warrior for it when I thought I’d already reached my peak. Training you and Gavian made me better; for as I once told Silent Night, I had to improve in order to keep ahead of you both!

* * * * *

To you who now read this, ’twas inevitable that I would have to pick up the quill at some point. Firefly has insisted that every side of this long tale be told, including those that she cannot tell adequately on her own. And though I would go on to be a Bolt Knight alongside Firefly and the others, at the time this writing is set in, I was a Corps Sky Sergeant and member of the Black Lances.

I am Swift Strike, and of my time as a Lance, I will tell no tales, even now. ’Tis the oath we all swear and the burden we accept upon graduation from our training grounds at Coltonado; that we work in the shadows and the operations we undertake in Equestria’s defense never see the light of day. And though I bear the title of Bolt Knight, when I die, ’tis my request to be remembered as a Lance; my name and service record recorded in code on a hidden memorial, with but a single primary feather interred there to mark my passing.

Once a Black Lance, always a Black Lance… as the tale I relate will soon show.

I had accompanied my future Captain and her new son for the entirety of her leave and tour of greater Equestria. In the end, I did so for two reasons: first, she did need a trusted aide, and second, I didn’t trust anyone to keep Gavian safe except me. ’Tis true that he could take care of himself well enough by then, but as good as he was against single opponents, I still worried what would happen if ponies decided to gang up on him, though ’tis also true his victorious three-on-one duel with some Cloudsdale militia mitigated that worry.

Of far more concern was former Lieutenant Thunderbolt’s appearance. I knew his story well; I’d been part of Lance Team Two under then-Master Sergeant Silent Night’s command during Phoenix Fire. I’d seen him in action against the Lucavi at Rial, and later on was assigned as a Corporal to the Corps recruiting office in Cloudsdale as cover for a very grave task—monitor Thunderbolt and, if his demons ever reemerged and he became a threat to other ponies, kill him.

To that end, I knew his full story, and had a moment of very real fear when I saw him approach Gavian. ’Tis no exaggeration that I prayed I would not have to intervene, because for all my skill, I simply did not know if I could defeat him. I had seen firsthoof that he was an incredibly instinctive fighter who could kill effortlessly, and when his bloodlust was up, he was nigh-unbeatable, perchance even to one such as I.

Thankfully, it did not come to that. I was both perturbed and relieved when he looked up and recognized me with a smirk—he knew full well he was being monitored and later told me he was glad for it—then turned back to Gavian and spoke with him. The rest of the visit passed without incident, though I strongly advised against letting him test Gavian’s skill.

Speaking of Gavian, I wish it said here and now that in my view, he was the equal of lower-ranked Knights by then, meaning he had become a strong warrior in his own right, and I admit to feeling a great deal of pride I can only describe as fatherly for it. I never thought I could befriend a gryphon before him or that I would ever feel so close to one, but he showed me it was possible, and ’tis to his great credit. For training and befriending him, I was named the gryphon equivalent of godsire of his firstborn cub, which for the gryphons means the one designated to teach his eldest daughter combat when the time comes. ’Tis a great and welcome honor indeed.

But that lay far in the future. From Cloudsdale we went to Canterlot, and from there to Fort Spur. I did not accompany them into the latter but did rejoin them after they exited, and was just as stunned as they to hear that Gavian had known the Red Talon that Windshear had slain but six years earlier, recognizing him from the trophies on the wall of the Sergeant Major’s office. ’Twas a fight I was not present for, even though elements of Lance Team Two were there that day, but it left me reflecting of how intertwined everything was; how indirectly saving a young gryphon’s life would one day save us all.

From there, we went to the home of Firefly’s parents, though strangely, neither seemed home when we knocked even though Silent Night knew we were coming…

Or perchance not so strange as a black-suited figure shot out of the bushes, blade in mouth. She was on me in moments only to have her attack instantly parried by a knife hidden up my sleeve, and suddenly the space between us was filled with flashing blade gleams, punctuated by the startled shouts of Gavian and Firefly. I knew my opponent well by her technique and favored combinations alone, as she was one of the few who’d ever been able to best me, even if only infrequently. Still, the fight was exhilarating, an aerial dance of strike and counterstrike that ended as quickly as it began with blades at each other’s throats… at which point we lowered them and laughed, sheathing our weapons and returning to the ground.

“’Twould seem you improved your technique again, Swift Strike,” the black-suited figure said as she threw back her hood to reveal…

“Mother?” Firefly stood stunned, as did Gavian beside her.

“’Twould also seem you’re as sharp as ever, Commander. And methinks I had to, or ’tis certain your daughter would have already surpassed me!” I rejoined as we saluted simultaneously, and then embraced, laughing again, our sharp fight just as quickly forgotten. “’Tis good to see you again, cousin.”

“And you as well,” she rejoined, then turned to her agape daughter. “You’ll forgive my welcome, Firefly. ’Tis something of a tradition we have in the Lances as a way to ensure constant readiness.”

“By giving me a heart attack?” Firefly asked, her own hidden blade at ready along with Gavian’s drawn sword. “Mother, I was ready to jump in and kill you!”

“You wouldst have found that no easy feat, my daughter,” she chuckled, then beckoned them forth. “Now please come in. Lunch is ready. And a warm welcome to you as well, grandson,” she next nodded to Gavian, gently lowering his sword. “I have even prepared some meat for you, as we sometimes had to eat it in gryphon territory…”

Methinks I’d forgotten how good a cook Silent Night was.

’Twas but a hobby when she’d been an active Lance, and one she’d gotten so rarely to indulge to the point that she’d actually swiped a gryphon cookbook from an enemy officer galley whilst we’d been raiding a gryphon base. After we’d returned, she’d read through it to see if there was anything in there palatable and found a few things, including meat recipes. One thing she was surprised to see is that they used alcohol in their cooking, and as ’twas known they’d had potent ones, she made a point of purloining that the next time we visited.

Regardless, with its help, she’d learned how to properly prepare and roast meat, though ’twas not a talent she could indulge in gryphon territory—campfire smoke might give us away, after all. But here?

I’d eaten enough raw fish and the occasional game bird when nothing else was available in the near border-deserts to find the smells of cooked meat appetizing. The commander, however, found it somewhat less appealing even as Gavian eagerly dug in, finding it spiced well. His appetite overriding his initial shock, he’d complimented his new grandmother, saying he’d never eaten this well back in the Empire or on base. The former was due to the fact that most of his meals were scavenged, the latter due to the fact that our galley didn’t exactly cater to gryphon tastes. Or pony ones half the time, as Firefly now reminds me.

Once the meal was completed and we’d all had a chance to catch up a bit, Gavian was given a tour of the house and shown to his room. He seemed surprised by all the opulence of the place, and even stunned that he was offered an actual bed as opposed to the cot he’d been sleeping in back on base. When asked if it was to his liking, he bared his throat and said he felt flattered and honored by such luxury. Gryphons, we’d seen on various operations, didn’t use beds for the most part; their soldiers and even most of their civilians were content to sleep on a simple pile of straw. And in Gavian’s case, he didn’t even have that; he slept wherever he could.

In truth, ’tis certain there were times I was surprised by how well she lived, too. Being in the Lances paid no more than regular Corps soldiers of our rank, after all; ’twas deliberate to make sure the gryphons couldn’t use size of paycheck to determine who we were and send the Ravens after us—but populated by nobles as it was, being in the Navy did pay well; ’twas her husband’s salary that had paid for their large house. ’Twas a shame, I’d thought more than once, that she and Tailwind never had more than the one daughter, but being in the Lances also tended to consume your life… if not outright end it at some point. That they’d found enough time between them to properly raise that one daughter was accomplishment enough, after all, and considering what that one daughter would become and do…

’Tis a legacy they should both be proud of, to say the least.

After lunch had settled a bit, Silent Night asked to see Gavian’s art and sword skill again. Once he’d been confirmed by her to have gotten even better, both with his sword and with his pen, mother rewarded him with a treasured trophy of hers, a gryphon knife she’d taken off an Owl officer she’d bested, telling him it was the next skill for him to learn and giving him some quick lessons in it. He took to them readily, and I could see it wouldn’t be long before he could wield it as well as his sword. I had the thought then that the only skill he was truly missing was that of a crossbow, and should he gain it, he’d be the equal of any Wind Knight.

Though the Lances always try to stay humble—being boastful is bad for a covert operative, after all—methinks I will say this: of all the individuals I’ve trained over the years, from new Lances to my future Captain herself, Gavian is still my favorite and most gratifying student. In the end, I trained a gryphon to be a better fighter than most gryphons, and ’twas no small feat. I cannot take full credit for him, of course; so much of it was due to his own drive and determination, his eagerness and willingness to learn. ’Twas he and not me that ultimately came up with the hybrid style he fights with...

One he would in turn teach to others in due course.

Indeed, my mentor. I will never forget all you did for me, and ’tis your legacy with me that I sought to honor by one day taking students of my own, both in art and in combat. You honor and flatter me with your words, but let it be said that when I first started to learn, I did not think I could, as small and weak as I was; barely able to even swing my new sword. But you set the example. You taught me that ’twas a mistake to judge ability or potential by size alone; you were a living, breathing example of how ‘size and strength are overrated’, and I immensely admired you for it. Ultimately, methinks I just emulated you and your fighting style, as your speed and quickness forced me to develop mine to match! —Gavian

Thank you, Gavian and Swift Strike. ’Tis my hope that you both will continue to contribute in the story to come, as there are many more parts of this tale that ’twould perchance be best told by the two of you. But I will not trouble you now, as I prefer to relate the next part of the tale myself.

Together Again

We stayed in Spur for a week, spending it with my mother. The first full day we were there, I took Gavian on a tour of the town, which included showing him the old orphanage I grew up in on the outskirts, even paying it a surprise visit, a place I’d taken great pains not to return to since leaving at sixteen for the unhappy memories it brought me. But I knew by then how lucky I was to have such a place where ponies cared for and reared me when all Gavian had was the streets, so I made a point to return in full uniform and take Gavian with me. The caretakers were stunned by my appearance in shorn mane and well-pressed Guardspony uniform, so different from the wild filly they once knew, and by Gavian’s, never dreaming I’d not only return one day but bring a gryphon to their door!

The colts and fillies within were very excited by my visit. They’d heard much of me, as to no surprise the caretakers had made it a point of using me as an example of what an orphan could achieve. ’Twas a point I then drove home by showing myself off and introducing Gavian as well, telling them that being an orphan did not mean that they were worthless or unwanted; that they could still achieve great things. I further shared for them Gavian’s story to let them know how lucky they were to have a home, and to always remember that their caretakers truly did care for them.

I’m not sure my former caretakers were more stunned to hear those words coming from my mouth, or for the heartfelt hug I gave them all before leaving, telling them how grateful I was for their efforts. I apologized for how difficult I’d been at times, saying that at least in part, adopting Gavian was my way of repaying them.

Speaking of Gavian, he ended up playing with some of the younger foals. I found him engaging in a mock wrestling match and being buried by an avalanche of colts and fillies, all laughing and giggling. I knew from my own experience how rare laughter could be in this place, so I left him there to play under Swift Strike’s eye whilst I went to purchase some toys for the orphans. After being stationed on the border for a year receiving steady paycheques without many opportunities to buy things and all my food and lodging paid for by the Corps, I had plenty of bits to spend, after all! They were greatly appreciated, and methinks we left that place with warm hearts and great satisfaction.

And so the rest of our stay went. Gavian and I became a regular sight with the locals, and I showed him all the places I formerly frequented, even going to Wind Whistler’s Windchimes shop (which she’d sold to another craftsmare she worked with) to show him what she’d done before joining the guard. He found plenty of artistic inspiration there, though he also found the tinkling sound some chimes made a bit sharp and unpleasant to my surprise, grimacing at the high-pitched notes they hit. The larger, lower-pitched ones were pleasant to his ears, however.

On the last day of our stay, we had one other item planned for Gavian—a birthday party. He didn’t know his actual birthday, only that he was abandoned at the age of five, so we simply designated it August 12th and officially said he turned sixteen on that date. He was a little surprised at the fanfare that accompanied it, and as sixteen was the legal drinking age in Equestria, we took him to the Aching Drum to try various ciders and ales.

Mother even convinced Swift Strike to partake, and despite initially saying he would have but one, methinks he ended up getting more than a little drunk, making it one of the few times I ever saw him be something other than the buttoned-up soldier he was! For once, his smaller size worked against him, as it took but four pints of ale to floor him. He’d actually been rather fun after his tongue had loosened, his Trottingham accent becoming far more pronounced, and when made fun of by some other patrons for not being able to hold his drink, he openly announced he was “a bloody LANCE!” to great laughter, which he then drove home by removing one of his stilettos and scoring a bullseye on a nearby dartboard as he downed his final drink… and then fell over backwards and passed out. His feat was met initially by stunned silence… and then cheers.

As for Gavian, his only experience with alcohol previously was discovering a discarded jug of gryphon rum when he was twelve, and it made him sick so he didn’t try it again, but this…? “Methinks it’s weaker, but better,” he said, licking his beak, then asking for another round, though he had to drink from a bowl given his beak was too large for our standard mugs.

Though the Aching Drum didn’t serve meat, it did have plenty of apples and grapes, good bread and cheese, and he happily ate them all—he enjoyed our soft crusty breads much more than the stale gryphon scones he’d occasionally stolen, he told us, whilst milk and cheese were unknown in the Empire, lacking friendly bovines—but his favorite of all the food we plied him with was the large cake we presented him from the local bakery topped with sixteen candles, which we explained represented his new age.

We told him that tradition was that you had to first make a wish, then blow them out in one breath for the wish to come true. Though bemused by that, he obeyed, though he couldn’t blow that hard through his beak. Still, as always he succeeded through sheer determination, to the hoofstomps of the pub regulars, who had taken an instant liking to him, toasting him and me.

“What didst you wish for?” I asked him afterwards as I carried Swift Strike out. He would wake up with a massive hangover the next day and be profusely apologetic to Mother, who teased him, scolding him that he had failed to live up to the unofficial Black Lance motto: ‘none fight fiercer or drink harder after’.

“For the chance to one day pay back all this kindness and friendship,” he said simply. I assured him again that all he had received was a gift freely given, but one more thing I would learn about gryphons from him is that all debts were repaid, whether in kindness, money, or blood.

“If you wish to pay it back, pay it forward, Gavian,” I told him, putting a hoof on his chest. “Befriend and teach others as you have been befriended and taught, and that will be repayment enough.”

He swore he would, and indeed he already had where Flight Sergeant Osprey was concerned. Still, he couldn’t help but ask me somewhat shyly why I had initially befriended him back in January given the ‘wretched raider’ he was.

In return, I told him my own story, and my realization that he might have been me if it were not for the orphanage and friendship shown me by a young filly who would become my sister, one who initially had no reason to help me given our great differences in class and temperament. “I was a wild filly who hated authority and thought she didn’t need anypony, who enjoyed starting fights and who, ’twas certain, was unpleasant to be around. But Wind Whistler befriended me when nopony else would, and I am thus forever grateful to her,”

“But if you were all that, then… why did she help you?” he wondered aloud as we sat on a cloud overlooking the base, something I’d done often as a filly.

In truth, I didn’t entirely know myself at the time. So how else could I answer, except to say:

“Is that not what friends do?”

Sweet Sorrow

The week in Spur—if not the two since leaving Epsilon—had passed quickly.

Twas August 14th when we were escorted to the gates of Fort Spur by Mother. She gave the three of us a parting hug, saying she was greatly looking forward to seeing at least me again in but two short months, when Wind Whistler graduated basic. Windshear was not there to greet us this time, as ’twas mid-morning and he would be running drills, but I left him a note thanking him yet again for indulging me—and now Gavian—to the extent he had.

In the end, we’d had a good time and Gavian was very happy to explore his adoptive country, even though he’d seen but three major towns and cities of it plus plenty of countryside. His relaxed mood and happy manner was in sharp contrast to the nerves he’d initially had upon leaving Epsilon, but now that we were returning…

“Mother…?” he said as our transport took flight again from Fort Spur; I just caught a glimpse of morning drills off in the distance and my sharp eyes might have picked out a grey-dyed pegasus mare wearing training armor… or perchance ’twas just wishful thinking.

“Yes, Gavian?” I turned to him.

He waited until we had a bit more altitude until replying, showing all the lush hills and the pristine skies, the verdant forests and colorful buildings of Spur. “Methinks I like Equestria,” he told me, staring out over it all in contentment. “Methinks I want to stay here forever now.”

I smiled, as did Swift Strike and our unicorn stallion Airedale. “And methinks you may if you wish, my son,” I hugged him. “For this is now your nation as much as mine.”

* * * * *

Six hours and just short of eight hundred miles later, we arrived at Epsilon to a small honor guard. Fell Flight called for attention as we disembarked, and it was swiftly given. “Commander, Outpost Epsilon… arriving!” she gave the ritual announcement, then waited until I’d saluted both the Equestrian and Epsilon flag before dropping her own hoof, as was proper. “Welcome home, ma’am.”

“Methinks that may be the last time you get to give that call, Master Sergeant,” I noted somewhat wanly, already starting to feel a twinge of sadness at my impending departure. “Is all well?”

“All is well, ma’am. Both the border and base are quiet, though ’twould be remiss of me not to mention one minor matter that was brought to my attention…” she began almost gravely.

“Oh?” I turned and raised an eyeridge at her, remembering what had awaited me the last time I’d returned from a weeklong holiday.

“Yes indeed, ma’am,” she said most solemnly, though there was a twinkle in her slitted eyes, swiftly followed up by a smile. “The troops have been talking, and ’twould seem that there is great desire amongst them that we have a farewell-to-arms party before the battalion is broken up…”

’Twas the last week in August, and thus, the last week we would all be together.

’Twas a bittersweet time, to say the least. Two of the three Celestial Guardsponies would be the first to leave right after the first of September, followed by Fell Flight and Blindside on the fifth and the sixth, then the rest of the battalion would be broken up as Gavian and I headed for Canterlot mid-month to start our respective schooling. Before that, I would turn over command to a new graduate of the Equestrian Officer Academy, Second Lieutenant Snow Squall, leaving him a bare quarter of Epsilon’s original members behind to form the nucleus of his new garrison. He would arrive a week before I departed and spend that time as my second, letting him see how the base ran before fully taking the reins himself.

I didn’t think he’d have a problem, given that according to his service record he’d commanded two outposts in the past. I had trained my battalion to run a very efficient operation and was leaving enough original soldiers and staff behind that the transition should be smooth. I never dreamt, however, that such efficiency could be turned to more idle pursuits! Once I gave tacit approval—I couldn’t give formal permission given all they were planning was most definitely not within regulations—the proposed party came together swiftly.

I did my own part by quietly “suggesting” to a few ponies heading out on two-day leaves that they might perchance obtain some various ciders and other party fare. They did me one better, as it turned out, getting a few kegs, fresh vegetables and cakes delivered to our door with a regular supply run via a bribed naval transport unicorn, who agreed to bring them on the condition that she be allowed to partake, which we arranged by ‘discovering’ some damage to her transport on arrival that forced her to stay at Epsilon overnight.

I also surprised our few civilian earth pony maintenance workers by bursting in on them and their carefully hidden still one evening (which I had known about for months!) and promising I would not report them—if they shared their wares at the party.

They did, and I have to say that their grain-brewed ‘moonshine’, so named because their particularly strong form of alcohol was said to be a favorite of Princess Luna (but fell into unsurprising disfavor after her fall), was both potent and powerful.

The party was held on August 27th, under the cover of a scheduled training seminar. Proving they’d internalized the idea of personal initiative, my soldiers outdid themselves getting the base ready, setting up makeshift bars and games, even hiring an earth pony band from a nearby town.

I don’t remember the exact sequence of events any more—in truth, my memory of that night remains somewhat blurry given how much I imbibed; I quickly learned that though my combat skill exceeded hers and was no slouch at cider myself, Fell Flight’s larger size and long experience with Baltimare dockworker bars meant she could drink me under the table—but at some point, Fell Flight challenged me to a hoof-wrestling contest that I won. And the terms of my victory?

Deciding somewhat drunkenly ’twould be fun to embarrass her, I told her to go up with the band and sing. I may not remember much else, but I do recall she went up there and belted out some surprisingly powerful lyrics set to a very moving melody, and despite my drink I remember the words quite well:

Bat-Breed (sing to the tune of Half-Breed By Cher)

My father married a thestral pony.
The other ponies are afraid of me.
The Thestrals said I was a pony in name.
For the Lunar Rebellion, I am now to blame.

I don’t know if it was Harmony or just shared drunkenness, but the band quickly picked up the melody and the rest of us picked up the chorus instantly:

Bat-breed! Bullied all the way!
Bat-breed! Can’t hardly see in the day!
Bat-breed! “She’ll double cross us”, they said!
Both sides would rather have a purebreed instead

She might have stopped there but immediately launched into a second stanza:

Me and my family never could settle down
No thestrals welcome in our ‘humble’ town!
Never found friendship, only got into fights!
Got my flank kicked when I was hit with bright lights!

We sang the chorus again, then her final stanza brought down the house:

I joined the Corps, “all are equal” they said.
But daytime training put me in a hospital bed!
So I got new lenses to help myself see,
And now the Chickenhawks are afraid of me!

We finished with the chorus twice, and then gave her thunderous acclaim with a series of whooping whinneys, hoofstomps and pinwheels as she walked off slightly unsteadily, accepting a fresh mug of ale as she did so.

Well. After that mortifying memory—and where did I even come up with those lyrics?—I suppose ’tis time to move on to far more serious matters. What happened next, none of us could have foreseen, least of all myself. My sapphire lenses merely allow me to see in daylight. Seeing the future is an ability that remains beyond me. —Fell Flight

* * * * *

’Twas the final day of August, the last day before all of us went our separate ways. Firefly was, at the time, going over some last-minute documents in her stateroom with a recently-arrived Snow Squall, whilst I was at the watchtower with Blindside. ’Twas while we were looking over the border (a mere formality at this point, I thought) that she confessed something to me, and not just the fact the Lances had recruited her.

“Truly?” I asked with surprise. “You are enamored with our commander?”

Blindside looked away, and I swore she was blushing under her dye. “Aye. Ever since she saved my life during the second raid. I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first; ’twas not until I met her mother that I realized what exactly I was feeling. ’Tis part of the reason I have decided to join the Lances; if I can stand on equal ground with her, perchance I can be worthy of her.”

I sat there for a moment, absorbing that information before giving a response. “I do not understand. What makes you think you are unworthy as it is, Sergeant?”

She looked at me in surprise. “How do you mean?”

“What is it that makes you believe you are unworthy of her attention, Blindside?” I clarified. “Is it your difference in rank? Is it your difference in ability? Such things should not preclude your affections, any more than it does mine for my earth pony coltfriend,” I said with a smile.

Her good eye went wide. “You have an earth pony coltfriend?” She went shocked.

“Aye. His name is Topsail and he is a dockworker and mariner in Baltimare. I fell for him whilst I was there to get my lenses implanted. He is a fine, strong stallion who saw past my thestral eyes and pegasus wings from the start. And better yet, he can rut as well as he wrestles.” I closed my eyes and grinned at the memories. “Methinks our differences are vast as well, but they do not preclude our relationship. If and when I desire foals, I would happily herd with him. So why should it be any different with you and her?”

“But…” a still-stunned Blindside trailed off, trying to find a response, when our attention was caught by a burst of green light over the canyon. Both of us instantly regained our military bearings; our prior conversation put on hold. “What is that, ma’am?”

“I do not know,” I admitted, reaching for one of my communication gems. “I would say a flare of some kind, yet that color isn’t one used by the Corps.” Pulling out the gem I needed, I contacted our patrol flight in that vicinity. “Flight Sergeant Osprey, did you see that flash?”

“Aye, ma’am. Moving to investigate now,” replied the flight leader. Osprey commanded a platoon, but that didn’t preclude her going out on occasional patrol as a simple flight leader any more than it did me. Doing low-level jobs was a good way, I thought, to keep one’s edge, and thus I required all NCOs including myself to do so, with Firefly’s permission. Though I would be sorry to leave, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought that soon I would be a base commander myself and need no other pony’s permission for such things.

“Contact, ma’am! I’m seeing some sort of… flying equine down in the canyon, with what looks like a couple of gryphon civilians pursuing.” Osprey, as her name implied, had incredible visual acuity, though the setting sun certainly helped. Thus, the phrase ‘some sort of flying equine’ was surprisingly vague coming from her.

Both Blindside and I glanced at each other, the same question in our gaze. “Request confirmation, Flight Sergeant; there is a pony being pursued by gryphon civilians?” I asked, frowning. What would a pony be doing in the canyon, let alone gryphon civilians?

There was a moment of silence before Osprey replied. “Negative, Master Sergeant. Methinks it’s not a pony, at least not a kind I’m familiar with. It flies, but is neither pegasus nor thestral. ’Tis equine in appearance, though, with a near-black body, green insectile wings and bright blue eyes. It also appears to be wounded and the gryphons are gaining on it.”

The description baffled me, but Blindside sucked in a breath. “A changeling!” she gasped. “I’ve read about them, but never thought I’d see one!”

I glanced at her, then turned back to the gem. I didn’t know what a ‘changeling’ was, but ’twasn’t the time to ask. “What of the gryphons?”

“They look to be normal civilians, ma’am, though I can’t see… strike that!” she said, suddenly alarmed. “They’ve drawn steel on the equine, and by their dulled finish, those look like Raven blades! Request immediate permission to engage, ma’am!”

Lighting the Fuse

That was all I needed. Ravens on our side of the border could mean nothing good, even ignoring the fact that ’twas a violation of our most recent ‘agreement’ with the gryphons. “Permission to engage granted, Flight Sergeant. Defend the creature, but be careful! Ravens are not to be taken lightly! Just hold them at bay; I’ll be there with reinforcements shortly.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” she replied, as I put the gem away.

I pulled another communication gem out, this one linked to one in Firefly’s possession. “Commander, a patrol has sighted two gryphons pursuing an odd equine creature in the canyon. Gryphons are dressed as civilians but are confirmed to have Raven weaponry. I’ve authorized engagement, and am heading out to assist.”

There was a muffled curse, presumably from Snow Squall as Firefly wasn’t one to censor herself (save perhaps in Princess Celestia’s presence). “Understood, Master Sergeant,” Firefly replied, her voice terse. “Proceed with caution. Confront but do not engage except in self-defense. Ravens are not to be trifled with. If they’ll talk, try to find out what they’re doing and take one of the ready flights with you. Snow Squall and I will join you as soon as possible.”

“Aye, ma’am!” I replied, and tucked that gem away into its designated pouch on my watch officer belt; each pouch containing a crystal linked to an identical gem in possession of either the commander or a different flight leader. “All members of Shrike bravo flight, report to the watchtower immediately!” I said into my blue broadcast gem, my voice echoing through the base as I called to the one of our two alert squads, who were sitting with gear in a ready room waiting for a call that hardly ever came. I then turned to Blindside, who had slipped on her wingblade harness whilst I was speaking into the gem. ’Tis my hope you do not have to shed blood this day, Sergeant. I recall you did not have the best of reactions last time after all was said and done.”

She looked back at me, a hard look in her one eye. “’Tis been some time since then, Master Sergeant,” she replied. “I have come to terms with what happened, and am more than ready to do my duty to Equestria.”

I nodded as we were joined by the rest of her flight. Turning to them, I said, “’Twould seem a pair of disguised Ravens have crossed the border in pursuit of some poor soul. ’Tis our job to foil them, and provide aid to their quarry if possible.”

“Ravens? They are assassins, aren’t they?” Corporal Shrike asked. He, too, had received a promotion after the bloody raid on Epsilon, after he’d come to terms with his actions on that night. He’d taken what had happened even worse than Firefly, having required several weeks in the company of his herd back home in Cloudsdale before he was ready to return to service.

“Correct, Corporal. So we dare not take them lightly,” I replied. “They are superb fighters, well-trained in armed combat and ’tis said they are on rough par with the Lances. We have the advantage of numbers, moreso since we’re assisting Flight Sergeant Osprey’s flight, but numbers only matter so much against enemies of such skill. Nevertheless, we are the Corps’ best, and we will not let these chickenhawks think they have impunity from our agreement!” That earned a cheer, and we flew out towards the direction of a fresh flare fired by Osprey.

As we dove below the lip of the canyon, we found the strange creature cornered by two sky gryphons dressed in farming vests… and in turn in a standoff with Osprey’s flight, who were surrounding them at a respectful distance, two of them in between the gryphons and the creature, who appeared to be cradling something protectively. The gryphons themselves were in a defensive crouch with their short blades but their stances were deliberately sloppy, and they were pretending not to speak our language well, answering questions in very broken Equish.

“Is thief!” one of them said, pointing at the huddled, bleeding creature. “Give… to… us!”

I frowned at the scene. Whatever was going on here, they had to be under instructions not to reveal themselves to be acting this way, and if I wanted answers, I decided that ‘twould perchance be best to just play along. “Gryphons! You are on the Equestrian side of the border! What is your business here?” I asked in Aeric from the air, hovering over the creature.

“’Tis not your concern, pegasus,” the eagless answered in Aeric; I saw a quickly suppressed flash of recognition in her eyes as she laid them on me. “We do not wish trouble, but this… creature… stole from us, and is now trying to flee with her purloined prize!”

“They’re lying…” the iridescent creature answered weakly in Aeric, looking tired and spent, its midsection carapace glittering with a greenish liquid I could only assume was its lifeblood. “My name is Plexippa, and I bear information vital for the survival of Equestria…”

“Silence!” the second gryphon, a tiercel shouted. “She is only trying to save her own hide, pegasus! She is a shapeshifting trickster, not to be trusted!”

Shapeshifter…? Needing more information, I played along. “And your grievance with her is…?”

“Quite personal. We are but humble farmers, seeking the return of our stolen gems and land titles,” the eagless said evenly.

“Really.” I made a show of looking them over. “With such fine physiques and Owl-issue blades? Methinks not!” I replied pointedly, then switched to Equish. “Surrender now, and you will not be harmed… Ravens!”

They glanced at each other and then the eagless smirked. Realizing they were found out, she dropped her facade, her combat stance sharpening as her expression went hard and fearless, answering in perfect Equish. “Methinks I could make you the same offer, bat-pony!” she addressed me, leaving me wondering what kind of dossier the Office of Owls kept on me. “We do not want trouble, and ’twas not our desire to cross the border or cross blades with you. Be assured this affair is not your concern, and we are not trying to cause any… regrettable incidents. But we have our orders to bring this deceitful creature back… dead or alive.”

“And I have mine.” I landed in front of her and went nose to nose with her, making clear I was not intimidated by her or her group’s reputation in the least. Indeed, I’d already taken out one Raven during their earlier attempt to slay Gavian, though in fairness, I’d been able to ambush her in the dark. “As you have violated the border in pursuit of this poor creature, my orders are to save your quarry and capture you… so come quietly, or forcibly,” I grinned, showing my teeth to make clear I would not mind in the least the latter choice.

“I see,” the Raven answered with an identical grin, looking around and then glancing back at her comrade, the barest of nods passing between them. “Methinks ten on two is hardly a fair fight, Master Sergeant Fell Flight, and worse, your reputation does proceed you. ’Twould seem flash gems are useless against you,” she said with a smirk.

“As Master Indala learned too late.” I smirked back.

Instead of perturbed, she looked insulted. “We are Ravens, not raiders, bat-pony. And methinks even if you are immune… your friends are not!” she announced as several smoke, thunder and flash gems detonated at once, dazzling and stunning us, leaving my ears ringing even as my eyesight was protected. But if Ravens were not normal fighters, neither were we after months of intensive Guardspony-style training. The two flights reacted instantly, scattering to dodge the blowdarts that erupted from the center of the smoke whilst I jumped back to guard the Changeling and acted to disperse the thick vapors with a strong and sudden gale generated by my wings—I’d been practicing that feat along with the commander—which also served to deflect the dart aimed at me.

My vision clear and their initial gambit having failed, I engaged the eagless blade to blade with two of Osprey’s squad and despite our numbers, despite all our training and my own considerable experience, we found ourselves hard-pressed by her speed and skill, her companion likewise bedeviling the remainder of the two flights, a whirling dervish of spinning swords and an occasional thrown blade. He held the others at bay but couldn’t land a finishing blow on any of them, the pair clearly surprised to find us able to hold our own against them and then some, a point driven home when Blindside dodged a pair of throwing stars to score a hoofstriker hit on the side of the tiercel’s head whilst I parried a knife thrust with a hoofstriker gauntlet and grazed the eagless’ flank with my wingblade, leaving a line of blood on her hip.

But holding our own only went so far as the well-trained pair started to take us more seriously and retaliated; I found myself staggered by a strike to the chest and a thrown blade finally found its mark, sending one of Osprey’s flight to the ground with a pained cry and wound to her side.

“Damn you!” I heard Osprey all but hiss. I didn’t see what happened next, engaged as I was, but there was a muffled crackle as a shock gem went off next, catching two of Shrike’s squad in its snare, leaving them twitching on the ground, which the tiercel followed up with a hard strike with a blade hilt to Shrike’s chin, stunning him—they were clearly under orders not to kill us, though their quarry was a different matter. And yet, despite the handicap, the two Ravens were still slowly but surely gaining the upper hoof and the outcome of the fight was in doubt…

Until a blur slammed into the eagless hard enough to fling her into the canyon wall. A sickening crack! and startled squawk indicated at least one major bone had been broken as she hit hard and then tumbled several more feet to the ledge. Looking up, I saw that my savior was none other than Firefly herself, having attacked with superb speed and delivered a flying punch to the eagless that knocked her twelve feet backwards, leaving her grimacing and clutching her broken ribs, struggling to rise again. “Nopony need die tonight, Ravens,” the commander said in a low tone as Swift Strike and a visibly surprised Snow Squall landed beside her. “As you are clearly trying not to kill, I offer you honor. Surrender and be spared. Resist and be slain.”

“Master Sergeant Firefly, is it?” the uninjured tiercel recognized, eyes glittering as he turned to face the Armored Guardsmare, looking like he was considering challenging her. “My compliments, commander. You have trained your troops well for most to still be standing. Though ’tis not entirely a pleasure to meet you. Methinks you and your pet Lance slew several of our comrades some moons ago,” he noted with a growl and a pointed glance at the diminutive stallion wearing Corporal insignia, to the surprise of the others.

“And methinks your comrades slew six of my soldiers. So I will be more than happy to add you to their ranks if you do not surrender immediately,” the commander replied with a lowered head, deploying her wingblades with a sharp metallic ring as Swift Strike, though lacking wingblades, drew his hidden stilettos and confirmed his identity by throwing one that impaled the canyon wall an inch from the eagless’ face.

And then he addressed the Ravens himself, speaking in Aeric. “If you will not listen to her, worthy adversaries, then listen to me. This creature is not worth dying for or causing an incident that will end badly for the Empire. You have shown great skill and discipline, and for that I promise you fair treatment in accordance with the commander’s wishes. But make no mistake—should you choose to continue this contest, you will not walk away, and the Empire will pay a heavy price for the spilling of Equestrian blood.”

The injured eagless glared at him. “Answer me this, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike…” she addressed him by name in Equish, earning him more looks of surprise. “In our place, even facing long odds, wouldst you surrender, or fight to the death to complete your mission?”

Swift Strike didn’t bat an eye even though he now stood revealed. “If I thought that surrender would mean a better outcome for my side? Then yes, Second Spear Indra Ramuh. I would.” He answered in Equish as well.

“And why would you offer us honor given how our groups have clashed in the past?” the tiercel challenged, still holding his sword at ready.

“Call it professional courtesy, Centurion Palidor Quetzali,” he closed his eyes as he replied. “We may not like you, but that does not mean we do not respect you… or would not wish the same honor be offered were our positions reversed.”

His answers seemed to give them both pause as the two gryphons looked at each other, an unspoken conversation taking place between them. They then exchanged a nod and lowered their weapons, holding up their forepaws with talons opened. “So be it,” the eagless said in pained tones as she surrendered. “We are your prisoners, commander… for however short a time it may be!” I wasn’t sure what her odd grin meant, but methinks I did not like it.

Once the pair had been manacled and escorted off, we saw to our own soldiers… and our new guest.

“Are you wounded, Master Sergeant?” Firefly asked me in some concern. Shrike and two others were, but not seriously; that alone was triumph enough against this pair.

“Just my pride, ma’am,” I rubbed my bruised chest and coughed. “But perchance we should see to their quarry…?”

“Indeed,” she replied, turning to the wounded Changeling, who was still clutching her bag like she was protecting a foal. “Methinks I have heard of your kind, young Changeling, but ’tis certain I never thought I would meet one. Have you a name?” she asked gently, her tone both compassionate and curious.

“Plexippa…” she answered, her voice growing weaker as blood loss increased; I did not know at that moment that her race fed on love and she had nearly exhausted hers in a desperate dash for the border. “And my mother, Queen Lepidoptes, offers your Princess both greeting and warning.”

“We can speak of such matters later. For now, rest, my brave young friend,” Firefly told her. “We are unfamiliar with your kind, but our healers will do for you what they can.”

“Thank you, c-commander. You are very kind. But first…” she levitated her satchel weakly. “Please. Take this…” she pushed the bag to Firefly even as she clutched a second book. “’Twas my mission to deliver these to Equestria. My kindred risked all to steal these plans and bring them to your lands.”

“Plans?” Firefly repeated with a glance at me, opening the bag to find a sheath of parchment inside. “What plans?”

“The plans… for Equestria’s destruction!” she said, almost deliriously. “And also, we pray, the key to its salvation… and to ours…” was all she managed before she passed out.

I thank you, Captain, for filling in a gap in my own knowledge. We never did know what happened to the Changeling’s pursuers or how their chase ended. I am gratified both that you offered the Ravens honor, and that by your second’s description they were worthy of it. I could not, however, say the same for the young Owl agent that was sent by Praetor Janus to the Prelate to report failure in his place… —Layan Kaval

A Decision Forced

“My patience grows very thin, Owlet,” the Prelate all but growled out, drumming his talons on his stone desk, the scene lit by firegems, casting his face with a reddish light and only making him all the more intimidating. “At last report, you said that your agents had finally found the shapeshifting thief and two of your finest Ravens were in pursuit. So again, I ask you: did they stop it?”

The hooded Owl agent summoned before him looked very nervous, and methinks she had good reason to be. “We… do not know, my lord. We lost contact with its pursuers as they chased it towards the pony outpost of Epsilon. At last report they had wounded it and were closing in, but… ’tis not entirely certain they succeeded in slaying it.”

Normally, the Prelate would have responded to such vacillation with a severe reprimand or worse—he hated such indirect doublespeak around admission of failure as much as I did, since it presumed him a fool who couldn’t see through such things—but even so carefully hedged, the implications were clear: after a monthlong chase, the Owls and their Raven pets had failed to catch their quarry, and ’twas now more likely than not that our invasion plans had fallen into Equestrian hooves.

The implications could be disastrous, and ’twas certain the Prelate knew that better than all of us. “It’s too soon…” he muttered, sitting back heavily. ’Twas rare Salvio Gaius could be so perturbed but here, he was almost reeling, clutching his head in his talons. “It’s too soon!”

We said nothing more, for we knew well the dilemma he faced—that we all faced. We had barely half our desired thirty Talon legions in place at that moment; the rest were in transit with the Knights and Ravens suffering a similar deficit of numbers. Only two-thirds of the invasion tunnels were completed; not all our food supplies or war stocks were laid in. Our new airship navy was still across the ocean and would take weeks to arrive on station. And the timing was off as well—we wanted to hit in mid-October so the Equestrian Army would be weakened by harvest time, but here, their border regiments would be at full strength.

It was the nightmare scenario, that our intentions were revealed too soon. The Prelate’s war plan called for a three-phase attack using as many echelons. The first would consist of an overwhelming surprise attack along the entire length of the border to shatter their frontier defenses; a massive strike of sixteen Knight-reinforced Talon legions taking out the entirety of the Aerial Corps 5th Division and the four Equestrian Army divisions backing them, the latter weakened by the loss of half their earth ponies for the harvest season.

They would overrun the first two hundred miles of Equestria at which point the second echelon would take over, using fresh tunnels dug deep into Equestria by the Diamond Dogs to establish secure supply chains that would be invulnerable (we thought) to pony attack. It would consist of ten fresh legions following up on the first echelon’s success by driving deep into the pony nation, whilst the first echelon rested and refitted, using superior gryphon mobility and tactics to crush the remaining Equestrian forces piecemeal. They would be assisted by the first echelon where needed, covering nearly a thousand miles to the very doorstep of Canterlot.

’Twas then the third and final echelon would move up, consisting of four heavy-weapon equipped legions that would surround and lay siege to Canterlot itself as well as other major military and industrial centers like Stalliongrad to crush both their spirit and their remaining ability to wage war. But less than one echelon was present and not all the tunnels were dug all the way to the border yet, particularly in the north. What we had was not enough to carry out his full plan of attack for the first night…

Which was not to say we could not do a great deal of damage with what we had. But would it be enough? “Remove yourself from my sight, Owlet,” the Prelate finally said in a voice of resignation tinged with deepest disgust. “And for such gross cowardice and incompetence as you and your master have shown this day, be grateful I will allow you to leave with your life!”

Once the Owl agent had been shown the door, I approached the Prelate, as no one else was willing to. “What are your orders, my lord?” I asked him with a bared throat and salute, knowing what I would do in his place. “We stand ready to carry them out.”

He didn’t reply right away, weighing the possibilities and risks. I did so myself, and have little doubt my thought processes paralleled his own. If our invasion plans were now in Equestrian hooves, ’twas certain they would react with shock and doubt, if not outright denial. But if the Guardsmare commander of Epsilon was in the least bit competent—and as the Owls reported she’d been recently promoted and been selected to attend their officer school, she was—she’d send the documents immediately on to Gamma, and from there they would go to Canterlot. The EIS would have hold of them by daybreak, presenting them to Celestia and the Equestrian military leadership within hours after that. Even if skeptical, they would place their frontier forces on immediate alert and bring their units to full strength, surging reinforcements to the border whilst the EIS and their Black Lance scouts tried to verify the information.

We might magically mask our preparations even more than we already had, simply lay low and hope their failure to find anything meant they would discount the documents as a Changeling trick, but what were the odds they wouldn’t find even a single sign? What were the odds that they wouldn’t finally spot the odd and unseen rotation of units happening at our above-ground bases? What were the odds they wouldn’t finally take notice of an uptick of Diamond Dog activity even within their borders? Or would it even come to that? Could the Lances not simply capture a Dog or an Owl intelligence officer and have the EIS magically extract the truth? No, the grim truth was that the EIS and Lances were anything but incompetent, and the odds that they would not find damning evidence of our designs were remote at best... especially given the stolen plans would tell them exactly what to look for. Celestia would not strike without proof, but once she had it, and probably in a mere matter of days…

Without our still-overseas allies, our life expectancies might then be measured in minutes; her terrifying power laying waste to our legions by bringing our underground bases right down on our heads, followed by the march of deadly superstorms devastating our cities and surface bases, far more than our available Magus could stop. If we did not act now, we lost not only all surprise, but potentially our very Empire. And thus, in the end, the Prelate weighed the risks and reached the only decision he could…

The only decision that would preserve any chance of victory. With that, he closed his eyes and exhaled softly before opening them again, turning them on all of us, resolution and determination in his gaze.

“We have no choice. We do not know for certain that our plans are exposed, but what is certain is we dare not risk it. If we do not act immediately with what we have, we lose all surprise and with it, potentially the war itself should Celestia strike first,” he told us, sitting behind his desk and grasping a quill pen to write out a single, fateful order.

“Execute Contingency Plan Kestrel, Option Ocelot, at first light,” he instructed us, passing the note to his personal magus to create copies of. There were nuances to that particular plan and variant, but the gist of it was an instant attack using available forces on just six hours’ notice via opening of sealed orders, followed by a rolling, three-stage operation that would consist of several discrete offensives as additional legions arrived instead of the single continuous one the Prelate had envisioned.

“It will be done, my lord,” I told him with a salute, thumping my right fist hard against my left shoulder. “And our allies…?”

He looked up at me, then went over to a magically sealed safe carved in the wall containing a very special crystal, one I’d returned with from the Far East. Once we’d left Mosclaw to return to Equestria, he’d kept it with himself at all times, saying that he and he alone would call our most important allies to our aid when our hour of need had arrived…

And that time was now, as he removed a crystal key from around his neck and placed it in its slot, releasing not just the lock but the powerful magical enchantment that guarded it. The door swung open to reveal… a single large green crystal. He removed it and regarded it for a moment, knowing that it was our key to victory… and that when it came down to it, we had no idea if our call would even be answered, offer of alliance or no.

“On this, and on them… we place our hopes and trust,” he told us as he took a final, deep breath and activated the crystal, causing it to pulse green. I’d been told that would happen, and once its companion crystal went off in our allies’ homeland, they would immediately take flight for Equestria, arriving within half a day.

“It is done,” he said, and even I felt a thrill—or was it a chill?—go through me, knowing that we were now committed; the summons could not be taken back and within hours we would be at war.

“For the Empire, for the entire world, and for Gryphons everywhere… destiny is upon us. We attack at dawn, and may both our allies and ancestors be with us…”

’Tis certain I had much the same prayer at that point, Ambassador. ’Tis odd how we both invoke the divine and tried to pit our respective gods against each other, only to be reminded that their designs go far beyond our humble affairs. As I look back on these events now, I am reminded of a great pony’s words at the end of a past conflict, one that ended the abominable institution of stallion servitude— “The prayers of both sides could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The gods have their own purposes.”

Though ’tis also certain that I could not discern any possible purpose for the madness that was about to overtake us.

Played for Fools

“Mother…?” Gavian asked me as I’d gone uncharacteristically silent, studying the documents I’d been given by the Changeling drone in the privacy of my stateroom. I’d finally gotten the chance now that I’d filed incident reports with 5th Division HQ and received word back from Gamma that the EIS would arrive to collect our prisoners and guest as well as the documents she'd brought us in the morning. But I had good reason to go quiet. What I was seeing was alarming. Neigh, terrifying. “What’s the matter?” He knew me well enough by then to tell how troubled, if not shaken to my very core I was.

Osprey stuck her head in my stateroom before I could reply; her expression worried as she saw my own. “Word from the healers, ma’am. They regret to report the Changeling is dead. They tried to save her, but they couldn’t. She used up all her…” she scrunched up her nose before continuing, her voice uncertain, “… love, the healers said, and died of her wounds after making one final entry in her journal, which she wished you to have.” She passed me the book. “One odd thing. The healers said she thanked us for our friendship and then her wings started sparkling just before she passed.”

“Thank you, Flight Sergeant,” I acknowledged, accepting the odd diary but putting it on the bottom of the document pile. I had no idea what sparkling wings meant, but methinks I had far graver concerns just then. “Will you and Gavian please gather all platoon commanders and command staff and bring them to the watchtower?” I instructed, my voice uncharacteristically subdued.

“Everypony, ma’am?” she asked with a glance at an equally confused and worried Gavian.

“Everypony,” I confirmed quietly, turning my attention back to the purloined documents as they exited. A great chill went through me as I studied them, one I’d last felt when I realized I’d been tricked in the pre-Hearth’s Warming raid. They were annotated in Aeric, but I didn’t need to read the language to recognize unit icons overlaid on a map of Equestria, and understand what the symbols and lines meant, depicting large numbers of Knight-reinforced Talon legions attacking Equestria out of invasion tunnels that terminated just short of the border—suddenly the increased Diamond Dog activity took on an ominous new meaning—and wiping out our frontier forces in a single massive attack. There were also indications of planned raids on targets far back from the border; even Fort Spur and Cloudsdale had first-night strikes indicated against them. Some form of operation was also indicated against Canterlot, but I had no idea what, not knowing what those particular symbols meant.

After five more minutes of study, I took flight for the watchtower myself, still holding the sheath of documents in my hooves and reading them as I flew. I was barely aware of arriving or those present; Fell Flight, Swift Strike, my four platoon commanders and the Celestial Guardsponies, each asking what was happening only to stop short when they saw my face, still buried in the captured battle plans. The subsequent pages had gotten no better, detailing a follow-on campaign that terminated in but two months, ending with more than half of Equestria under gryphon control and Canterlot itself occupied.

There was even a sheet containing a proposed war declaration written in both Aeric and Equish. It outlined gryphon grievances and laid out their justification for war, citing everything from the ‘atrocity’ of our superstorm strike to the ’tyranny’ of Celestia’s control over the sun and moon. They called the Sun Princess a threat to not just them but the entire world, one that had to be expunged ‘for the good of all’, stating their intention was to ‘liberate the very skies’ from her ‘unnatural alicorn power’.

’Twasn’t clear from the documents exactly how they planned to accomplish that, but ’twas impossible they hadn’t come up with a way to deal with Celestia given they’d seemingly thought of everything else. Their invasions plan were utterly brilliant, to say nothing incredibly well thought out.

And worst of all, for as flat-hooved as they’d caught us, they could work.

I read as far as the war declaration draft before I had to stop. I sat back heavily as I felt faint and shaky, passing the plans off to the others without another word whilst I stared out over a suddenly-far more menacing border canyon into the darkness of gryphon territory. I heard their stunned voices as the contents of the documents registered, shock giving way to dismay and then dead silence, just like me.

I wanted desperately to believe it was all a fake—the gryphons working with a race they considered as dirty and dishonorable as the Diamond Dogs was unbelievable enough—but what could a Changeling hive possibly hope to accomplish by tricking us? Why go to these lengths, creating such elaborate and well-thought war plans? Why did this one drone sacrifice her very life getting it to us? And why were the Ravens chasing her if she didn’t have damning information, willing to kill her to stop her? From what little we knew of them, Changelings were said to feed on love, but how would war do anything but potentially starve them, drowning them in hate? So what did they have to gain by this?

“Perchance the proper question to ask, ma’am… is what did they have to lose?” Fell Flight mused when I asked my question aloud. I would get the answer soon enough when she reached the bottom of the stack and found the letter written by the Changeling Queen to Celestia, saying in effect that they could not stand by and see their greatest source of love—of life itself—lost by our potential defeat. That our deaths very possibly meant theirs, and thus, they saw fit to warn us and would help us in the coming conflict in whatever ways they could, slipping us information and intelligence when possible.

Their reasons made sense, and with that, all remaining doubt left me. “Your conclusions, Master Sergeant?” I prompted quietly, my own now certain.

“There is only one possible, ma’am,” she answered in an equally grim voice to the nods of all. “The gryphons have played us all for foals.”

They had indeed, leaving us wondering how in the name of the sun and moon we had missed all this, or been so foalish as to think that the gryphons could be cowed even by Celestia herself. But it mattered not now, as I considered what the gryphon response would be to the possibility of these plans reaching us. If the documents could be believed, their attack was not scheduled to launch for another seven weeks (as noted by Swift Strike, who could read as well as speak Aeric), but in order to meet that deadline they had to have considerable force in place already, their legions awaiting the order to attack in their underground bunkers, safe from both a superstorm strike and the prying eyes of the EIS.

“Ma’am. Orders?” Fell Flight prompted, Swift Strike and the others looking on with equally grim expressions. “This cannot wait until morning. We have to get these plans to Gamma and Canterlot immediately. We must also consider the possibility that the gryphons now know we have them…” she reminded me ominously.

“I know…” I didn’t reply further right away, putting myself in the wings of the gryphon commander, now-Prelate Gaius. I had no idea how he had survived his earlier failure, but it mattered not then. I imagined him facing the exposure of his plans and what loss of surprise could mean… and what, in the end, he would be forced to do, coming up with but a single answer, as inescapable as it was terrifying. “We must assume that they do. And therefore…” I removed my red command gem as they watched, found the special notch and inserted it onto a certain post in the watchtower, pushing it down until it clicked. I then took a deep breath, and, knowing my next action could not be taken back, gave it a sharp quarter turn to the right.

It immediately lit up as alarms began to blare outpost-wide, its companion gems glowing and vibrating in their casing, emitting a shrill sound that could be heard for miles around. It would also cause an alert to sound in the communications room of Gamma and nearby army bases, which I would follow up with warning messages and copies of the stolen battle plans I could have our healer unicorns or Still Way make. But first, I had to see to my own outpost, so I next drew my blue gem and spoke into it, my voice booming throughout the base:

“Attention, soldiers of Outpost Epsilon! This is Commander Firefly! The Gryphons are coming! Invasion is imminent! This is not a drill! I repeat, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! WE ARE NOW AT WAR ALERT!”

And methinks we were no less in a panic on our side of the border that night, Captain. ’Twas to the great credit of our soldiers and the Prelate’s planning that we were doing as well as we were, our forces scrambling but quickly organizing, readying for immediate action. —Layan Kaval

* * * * *

The underground installation beneath former Raptor base was alive with activity as dawn neared.

Orders were issued, message runners dispatched—a literal term in some cases, since for the most part we couldn’t fly through the tunnels—and some critical decisions were made about what to do with our more limited forces. The Talons already had their orders thanks to the Prelate’s foresight in devising contingency plans, but we faced some tricky choices about carrying out the initial operations we’d wanted to.

More than a dozen deep-strike raids by well-rehearsed Knights and Ravens were scheduled to be launched on the first night of the war. Their intent was not just to severely disrupt Equestrian command and control, but cripple their morale as well as their ability to wage war, leave their fighting spirit wounded and unable to easily replenish their losses. Every major facility from Royal Guard training grounds at Fort Spur to the large Army and Navy bases at Stalliongrad were supposed to be struck, but with only half our forces in place and some operations as-yet unpracticed, we could not carry them all out.

So we would have to prioritize. Some choices were easy—Cloudsdale and Fort Spur were left on the target list since they were very important to the Equestrian war effort; one for being the source of their storm cloud production and the other for its Guardspony training as well as its symbolism. Both were located within two hundred leagues of the border, making a long-range raid feasible. Other locations, like Stalliongrad, would have to be left off the target list for now since we would be asking our forces to fly five hundred leagues in daylight through hostile airspace to destroy three airships that were of questionable value anyway given the Equestrian Navy’s poor readiness and training.

That brought up another issue: our raids were supposed to be launched in darkness, not daylight, but if we waited the twelve hours until night fell again—assuming Celestia didn’t keep the sun up to help her forces fight—we would find those bases fully alert and ready for battle, making failure far more likely. So the decision was made to launch select raids in daylight using the strikes on the border bases as cover; with the entirety of the Aerial Corps 5th Division in a fight for their lives, they’d have nothing to spare to stop us.

Other operations we would contract out to various raider groups we’d retained, as some targets were not far from the border and had no need for stealth or subtlety, such as striking both the civilian and naval shipyards at Fillydelphia and Baltimare. The Magma and Aqua groups had been contacted and stood ready to make a mess of both, with the admonishment that they not engage in wholesale slaughter of Equestrian civilians, warning there would be Tartarus to pay from both sides if they did. ’Twas not a question of mercy or honor as the simple fact that we wanted the ponies pacified; we needed use of those ports for ourselves later and a restive populace would not help.

I again asked to personally lead the Fort Spur raid given the previously designated Talaeus commander was unavailable, but the Prelate declined. He reminded me he needed my quill pen and counsel for what was certain to be a chaotic first day of operations, launched with little notice as it was. “You will get in the fight, my friend, that I promise you, but for now, you can best serve me here,” he told me, so I named another Talaeus in my place—Centurion Pylea, a trusted comrade and commander, combat expert and veteran of the war against the Elder Rams who relished the challenge she was presented with—fighting Guardsponies and avenging a stain on Red Talon honor.

I still believe we made the best choices we could that night given what we had and what we knew. And yet, in the end, ’twas not just one, not just two, but three of those decisions we would greatly rue.

Perchance you didst, Ambassador, but I promise you, not as much as we did that morning. And methinks I am eternally glad you didst not lead that raid, for the outcome might have been far different and result in the loss of my beloved sister as well as my mentor.

The Storm Approaches

As dawn broke over the Canyon, Epsilon stood ready. For what, we did not yet know.

We had gone on war footing according to existing plans, ones we had drilled repeatedly in the past. The entire base was roused and on alert, my soldiers fully armed and armored; with two platoon-sized patrols keeping watch far out over the canyon. If gryphons were spotted, their orders were not to engage, but to report in immediately and fall back towards Epsilon so we could fight as a battalion instead of being overwhelmed squad by squad. The healers were likewise ready, their infirmary awaiting casualties, and—thanks to Master Sergeant Still Way—they were also armed with plenty of protection spells and unicorn longbows for defense.

After sending the documents to Gamma, we received a terse reply back within the hour from Sirocco: “I pray this is fake, but we cannot assume so. Corps Command and Canterlot have been notified. By my order, all outposts GO TO WAR ALERT!” I’d also dispatched a message to the nearest Equestrian Army base of Outpost Blue telling them that an invasion was imminent. But ’tis certain that had been less well-received; I’d gotten an incredulous reply back from their unicorn mare colonel asking if I had been drinking or had simply lost my mind.

I responded with copies of the invasion plans we’d been smuggled, far too detailed to be fake. The latter was done against all security protocols, but they had to know and be ready. I could only hope they believed them and understood the implications.

In the event of war with the Gryphons, existing battle plans called for all Aerial Corps border battalions to be immediately reinforced from four air platoons to twelve, thus tripling their strength and—in theory—giving them enough ponypower to both hold their bases and carry out slashing counterattacks against enemy air raids. In the event of invasion, the Equestrian Army would act as the anvil, holding all towns and critical points and bleeding gryphon forces dry whilst the Corps would be the hammer that would smash attacking forces to pieces between us.

Such plans might have been sound, were it not for two now-clearly invalid assumptions. First, we couldn’t see that the gryphons could support an attack so far from their homeland at the end of an incredibly long supply chain with more than about eight legions, but the plans said they had at least thirty earmarked for the invasion. And second, they assumed that the EIS and Lances would provide at least a degree of warning that would in turn allow reinforcements to be rushed to the border and our battalions to be brought up to full wartime strength.

The last time such rapid reinforcement had been carried out for something other than a drill was for the Phoenix Fire operation, and given the gryphons could only muster ten legions at the time, it proved an effective deterrent. But this time, we were caught off guard with a thinly held border and our overall readiness low; we had but half the 5th Division backed by five half-strength Equestrian Army divisions. A few thousand poorly trained earth pony militia in various towns and villages didn’t count for much in my view, but even including them, that gave us but 20,000 troops to hold nearly eight hundred miles of border…

Even assuming they had but half their allotted forces available given the early onset of war, we would be facing an invading force of at least 75,000 well-trained and highly mobile soldiers backed by likely a legion or two more of Knights, giving them a better than four to one advantage in effective numbers. And with an entire Talon legion assigned to my own sector with the apparent intent of turning our border defenses at our presumed weakest point, my own battalion could be outnumbered at least twenty to one.

’Twas a daunting thought to say the least, but my sole comfort was again that ’twas unlikely at best they would have their entire intended force available or would concentrate everything they had against us alone. Perchance that and being forewarned might yet grant us a fighting chance.

Mother and Son

“Mother?” Gavian asked me as we watched the sunrise from the tower, wringing his paws nervously. He’d kept his distance, knowing I had to get the battalion ready to fight, but now that we were as ready as we were going to be, he approached me. “What should I do?”

“Gavian, I want you to stay well out of sight,” I told him. “Methinks you can help out in the infirmary if you want, but do not try to join us in battle.”

“But I can fight, mother!” His foretalons went to his sword.

“No!” I said forcefully, then realizing how that sounded to him, I turned to him and placed my hooves on his shoulders. “Listen to me, Gavian. I know you can fight, but you have no armor. And in a battle with gryphon soldiers, you could easily be slain by accident. Or deliberately by the Talons if they recognize you as a traitor,” I reminded him. “Talons aren’t raiders. They’re well-trained soldiers and are not to be trifled with.”

“But—”

“No buts,” I told him. “We’re shortly going to be at war, and I don’t want you taking part in it,” I finished, though methinks I knew even then that like so many of my other designs, this was yet another promise that couldn’t be kept. “And if the worst should happen and this outpost be lost, you are to flee into Gryphon territory and pass yourself off as civilian.”

“No, mother!” he said emphatically and drew his sword. “I will not flee! I will not return to the Empire! And I will not stand by and do nothing whilst you fight and my adoptive country is attacked!” he told me, as he’d been taking particular pride in learning and using big words lately. “If I am to truly be your son, then my place is here at your side. And if fate should decree that you should fall, then I will fall with you!” he proclaimed, reminding me that his gryphon blood would not allow anything else. “My sword is at your command!”

I felt my eyes go misty at the love and devotion in his voice, hugging him hard. “Then my command, my brave and noble son, is that you help out in the infirmary and defend it if attacked,” I told him. “Tend to the wounded but stay inside and do not expose yourself unless absolutely necessary.”

“I will obey,” he promised, saluting me with his sword before sheathing it again. He then raised his gaze to mine and let me see the fear in his eyes. “I’m scared, mother,” he admitted as the first rays of the sun appeared over the horizon, afraid of not just what would happen to him, but me and all of his new friends.

“I am too,” I told him truthfully, holding him tightly as I wondered what the morning would bring…

War Has Come

And whether I or anypony else would survive it. Though I’d never been one to pray to the sun and moon goddesses before, I did so here. I prayed for my nation and my battalion; I prayed for Gavian and my family. I prayed for Fell Flight and Stormrunner, for Blindside and Swift Strike. I prayed for the Celestial Guardsponies, for Osprey now out on patrol and, indeed all my forces soon to face their fate. I prayed for Mother and Father, I prayed for Wind Whistler… and swallowed hard, suddenly remembering that according to the gryphon plans, Fort Spur was targeted for some form of raid.

Be on your guard, sister… I told her with my thoughts as fresh alarms went off in the watchtower, intrusion detection enchantments signaling that the border was being breached in our sector but outside of our patrol range. They indicated that Epsilon was either being bypassed, or they were moving to surround us.

The alerts were quickly followed up by a series of increasingly frantic emergency messages on the crystal network indicating assassinations and attacks all along the frontier; I even thought I might have a heard a panicked report that an Aerial Corps base had been destroyed by an explosion of their own storm cloud cache. I barely had time to process it before my command gem began buzzing, a prearranged signal from Fell Flight or Stormrunner indicating that the Gryphons had been sighted and they were falling back to Epsilon.

Giving Gavian one last hard hug, I pulled on my helmet and then took to the air, assuming position at the front of my reserve company, deploying my wingblades. My heart raced as my two patrolling platoons returned squad by squad in good order and a full cohort of Talons shortly came into view. The sight of a five hundred-strong formation coming right at us and then fanning out to encircle us was very intimidating, and yet now, with war upon us and engagement imminent, all I could think at that moment in time was…

How did it come to this?

Author's Note

Nothing else to say, folks, except... it begins. A guest chapter from Denim_Blue is coming next detailing the theft of the invasion plans and Plexippa’s flight, followed by one final interlude detailing the story of Windshear’s Defender of Harmony award, which for reasons that will be clear later, must be told before the war begins. Usual thanks go to AJ_Aficionado for writing the alternate Half-Breed lyrics as well as being the one to originally suggest that song would work well for Fell Flight, to SilentWoodfire and Denim_Blue for prereads and loading the google doc with comments, and of course to Leo Archon, who contributed a large chunk of the Fell Flight-narrated Raven section. A collaborative effort, this moment has been a long time building, so hope the wait was worth it!

Interlude #4: The Flight of Plexippa

Greetings, one and all. After discussion with our publisher and some worry over this tale’s increasing length, ’tis been decided that instead of writing one large book, the story of myself and the Bolt Knights—indeed, the story of the Great War itself—will be broken up into a trilogy, of which the first book will end with the outbreak of said war. Accordingly, the final chapters of this book will be devoted to two interlude stories in particular: One is the tale of my mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear, as ’tis necessary to tell his story before proceeding further. Until the war began, he was the only pony to be awarded the Defender of Harmony medal in decades, and once it did…

Well. That is a story for my sister to tell. But there is another tale to be told at the moment, a tale of an unlikely hero that is well-deserved… and now very personally requested. I’m unsure how it happened, but word has leaked out of the collaborative writing effort on this tome, and a letter arrived for me just this morning. Its contents are somewhat unnerving, to be sure, but at its author’s request, I will include it here.

Greetings, Captain Firefly.

I am Queen Lepidoptes, mother of Plexippa, and I hope this letter finds you and your herd in good health. Before you ask; yes, my hive has been watching over you and your herdmates all this time, but I assure you ’tis only in the interest of protecting you from those who may wish you ill. Yes, we are fully aware that veteran warriors like you and your herdmates can take care of yourselves quite readily even as you raise your foals, but consider it a compliment and courtesy from those such as myself who wish to repay old debts but have few other means of doing so.

If it helps, ’tis certain you are not the only one who my subjects have taken an interest in protecting from afar. Aside from you and Princess Celestia herself, I shan’t mention any others who we are watching over; I hope you can understand that my children must remain in the shadows to survive. Just know that, as my beloved Plexippa stated before she left this world, we will be there to help, even when it seems all is lost.

If you wouldst please indulge me, I would like our role in the war known and would greatly appreciate it if you include the contents of this letter in the book that you are writing. Our part may have been small in the overall conflict between Equestria and the now-former Gryphon Empire, but methinks ’tis worth mentioning all the same. In many ways, the conflict between your two respective nations affected far more than just ponies and gryphons in the end. Indeed, methinks there were none in this world who were ultimately untouched.

’Tis selfish of me, perchance, but I would not ask this for myself. I would ask on behalf of my beloved daughter, who I wish to be remembered. But regardless of whether or not you decide to indulge my request, I want to at least say this:

Thank you.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because of you, we not only survive, we thrive. Because of you, my beloved Plexippa was able to pass on in peace and relative comfort, knowing she had completed her mission and delivered our warning in time. ’Tis far more than any changeling scout could hope for when their time comes. And I thank you for taking our warning seriously; I only wish we had been able to give it to you sooner. But the distance between Mosclaw and Equestria is vast, and we had to make completely certain of our information before we acted. It took time, as we did not want to jump to any conclusions and risk sparking a conflict that would not otherwise happen.

’Tis certain your friends in the EIS would agree that accurate intelligence is invaluable in times of strife. But for us, ’tis oft a matter of life and death.

Speaking of whom, ’twould be appreciated if your princess could ask for your friends in the EIS to perchance not fret so much about us and to stop sending out probes in hopes of finding our hives and havens. We’re aware that they have been trying to determine our whereabouts for the past few years, and whilst we’ve avoided being located so far, ’tis getting rather tiresome to plant false leads among their ranks. I can assure you we’re not going to try and usurp the throne or kidnap any ponies. I cannot speak for all of the other hives, but know that the Lepidoptes Hive and its Queen prefers peace with Equestria.

Regarding Plexippa, ’tis certain she was always a bit of a maverick among her peers. Despite her royal blood, despite her status and social standing among my hive—which I’m sure you found out about at some point, judging by what she had written in her journal—she never sought a career in politics or ruling. She wished to serve her subjects in a more direct way, so she joined the soldiers of our hive. ’Tis certain I had been hesitant to allow it at first, and a part of me still wishes I had denied her request to serve as a Scout. In the end, though, just like your own son or sister, I knew ’twould be unfair to deny her the right to offer up her life for her hive—her family—should she so choose. Despite the wrenching cost to my heart, she fulfilled her duty against all odds and brought both sorrow and pride to her queen and her kindred. Her sacrifice served as a model for all of us during those dark times of conflict…

I only wish she could see how much we all admired her for what she had done, and what her sacrifice ultimately won for both Equestria and her hive.

I also noticed that Plexippa mentioned that I myself seem to admire Celestia. Whilst ’tis a touch embarrassing, ’tis true. Ever since the day my mother decided I would inherit the throne, I looked to your alicorn princess in a manner that perchance borders on hero-worship. Again, ’tis rather embarrassing to admit, but methinks ’tis pointless to lie. I believe if I had been in your princess’ horseshoes, I might have been far less trusting or merciful to the gryphons. Though, that’s why I admire her; she’s always striving to find a solution with the least bloodshed, no matter how taxing it might be on one’s patience and faith in the other involved parties. I saw how she fought a brave and brilliant battle to save her capital and later brought the war to an honorable close for both sides. Please let Princess Celestia know that so long as she stays on this course, she will always have a quiet ally to watch over her from the shadows.

I believe this is where I shall finish my letter. If I write any more, I might risk slipping in some information that could give us away. I’ve ruled for a long time, but even a doddering old Queen like myself is prone to talking too long if you give her the chance. So, thank you, once again. For fighting the good fight, for protecting those who needed it, for saving Equestria and us as well, and above all else, for giving my daughter, Princess Plexippa Lepidoptes, friendship and the peace of mind she deserved during her final moments.

I may yet try to meet with you some day, Captain Firefly. Should that day come, I will wear no disguise. Plexippa put her faith in the ponies and chose not to wear a cover in her final days, so I feel ’twould only be right to honor her faith and actions by doing the same.

Farewell for now, Captain. May the Hive Mother guide and protect you, even if you pray not for her guidance.

Sincerely,

Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV,
Sovereign of the Lepidoptes Hive

I must say, this was quite unexpected. To know that there are beings who watch me from the shadows I had not sensed despite all my well-honed instincts is… disquieting, to say the least!

Yet this hive of changelings has proven nothing if not friendly to Equestria. Given their actions both during and after the war, I feel comfortable in saying this: you have my thanks, Queen Scylla Lepidoptes. Your daughter’s bravery and timely warning prevented a full rout of Equestria’s armed forces and very likely the loss of our entire nation. Yes, ’twas still a close-fought affair as the next book will show, and we still nearly lost on multiple occasions, but Princess Plexippa’s actions gave Equestria a fighting chance.

I will respect your request, and indeed I had already planned to relate Plexippa’s tale to all my readers. ’Tis a tale of deprivation and desperation that deserves to be told, to say the least. As her sacrifice means she is no longer among the living, we must use an alternative means of narration, much like we did with Thunderbolt’s interlude. Thankfully, her journal survived the war in one piece; ’twas one of the few things I could take with me upon our escape from Epsilon. The journal was given to the EIS shortly thereafter, and Daggermind took the liberty of writing some annotations in areas that had been rendered illegible for one reason or another. A translation of the journal has been made, with Daggermind’s notes included. As to why we feel it necessary to include this?

As I have said before, my story is not complete without the perspective of others. And Plexippa’s perspective of the events leading to war are interesting indeed; a perspective into a culture both alien and honorable, struggling to survive from the shadows but electing to expose themselves for the sake of both their world and ours. ’Tis no exaggeration to say that Equestria owes its existence to this brave and noble Changeling, and I would urge all who read now to reflect well on her sacrifice and how much her hive risked to help us.

Discovery and Preparation

Day 105

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
21:30, Mosclaw, Gryphon Empire

Our worst fears have been realized. Our intelligence has been confirmed.

The Gryphons truly intend to go to war with Equestria, and if what Spiracle has overheard being talked about amongst the officers is true regarding the plans they have made and the terrifying new allies they have gained, it could lead to a devastating end for the ponies… and for us.

I have already spoken briefly with Spiracle and Chilopa, and corresponded with mother as well. ’Tis agreed we have no choice—for the sake of our cluster, our hive, and all Changelings everywhere, the ponies must be warned. We have agreed that I must leave and initiate my part of Operation Silverfish. If all goes well, I shall be outside the walls of Mosclaw by tomorrow night, and outside of the borders of the Empire within a week’s time if I am careful.

I have taken the guise of a young Auxiliary Guard soldier within the Empress’ castle. They call it The Citadel, and ’tis a good name as ’tis both massive and menacing. My cover is monotonous on the best of days and mental torture on the worst. Standing guard at some designated post or patrolling the same halls for the past three months is not what I pictured my first true external job as a Scout to be. Were it not for this journal that I’ve been keeping, then I most certainly would have gone stir crazy by now. ’Tis a security risk, true, but I have kept it well hidden in my barracks beneath a floorboard, and it has yet to be discovered.

Then again, I am thankful to not be spending my time in Spiracle’s hooves: she has been living the stress-filled life of a high ranking gryphon officer. Most days she is sitting within only a few forelegs length from such individuals such as Prelate Salvio Gaius, members of the Praetorian Guard, and even the Empress herself on occasion. There have been many a night when the three of us would meet that she would be trembling, shooting nervous glances over her shoulder, and praying to whatever gods would listen that this mission would just end. Even so, you wouldst not believe her to be anything but some stuffy military bureaucrat with a penchant for invading Equestria if you were to see her playing the role of “Centurion Gianna Marius”. She wears her feathers well, hence why she was charged with leading this operation.

I cannot fault her for such thoughts. Gryphons are far from the most friendly or trusting of species we have lived amongst, and ’tis often hard to extract love from them, requiring us to risk injury and exposure in a mating ‘round’ to do so. If word about the Owls is believed to be true, then gryphons aren’t above doing heinous acts in order to gain an upper claw with their enemies, either.

Chilopa, on the other hoof, has taken on a more interesting role. He is currently a young gryphon tiercel working as a drinkmaster at a local tavern just down the road from the mess halls. Given that he’s always had a talent in the culinary arts, spirits, and brew making, and is the most familiar with Aeric vernacular used by many of the enlisted soldiers, he fits in well with the local populace. It helps that he has the patience and understanding of a mother raising a brood of hatchlings, too, I suppose. He himself has said on more than one occasion that ’tis amazing what one can discover if they only pay attention to the inebriated venting of young Talons and Knights after a long day’s training and arguing with peers. Information meant only for military personnel will practically pour out of their beaks, if only you have some Aeric rum to grease the gears, so to speak.

Still, despite our success so far in remaining hidden in plain sight, ’tis the time for me to leave. The Empire’s war plans have been pieced together from maps and orders stolen right out of the war room, copied and then returned before their absence is noted. Though we try to be quick, sooner or later our luck will run out and we will be found out. We have not been able to obtain all the information we wished, but we believe we have enough for the Equestrians now. ’Tis best that we act now before, as I’m told they say in Equestria, the other horseshoe drops.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Day 107

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
03:50, Mosclaw, Gryphon Empire

Foolish! Completely foolish!

What an imbecile I was to think that I could make it out of Mosclaw so easily, even in the dead of night! Damn these gryphons and their keen vision!

I had been less than a dozen yards from the main gates leading out of the palace when three guards noticed me leaving. I must have looked rather suspicious, sneaking in the shadows whilst carrying a satchel bag and no armor. ’Tis my own fault for being so nervous!

My efforts to dissuade their suspicion were fruitless. It did not help that one of them was a mage, either. Whilst one of the guards headed off to ascertain that ‘Fionna Stratius’ was indeed allowed leave to visit her sickly aunt in the countryside north of Mosclaw, the mage and other guard kept a close watch of me. I had, of course, complied when the guard asked me to open my satchel. It contained nothing of great importance: some letters from my supposed aunt and uncle, a few strips of dried game meat, and a small amount of money that fit a soldier of my cover’s rank. I doubt any of them would have thought to look down my throat crop to locate this journal, so I should have been safe from suspicion.

’Twas easy to tell that I was not going to get out of the palace without trouble once I saw the guard who had left return with three more gryphons. Imagine my shock when I noticed their armor to be not that of the normal palace guard, but that of Paladins!

’Twas at that point that I knew I had to either act, or face what would likely be imprisonment. Or more than likely, death.

One of the Talons ordered the mage to cast a spell for detecting magical influence. Perchance they were hoping to find out if I was under some sort of mind control. That or perchance find out if I was a spy.

Whatever spell that had been cast by the mage, methinks ’twas too much. Weeks of living off only the barest scraps of love and enduring the tense atmosphere of Mosclaw as a gryphon soldier had been enough to break apart any resistance I put up. One moment I felt magic probing my mind, the next I felt my disguise melt away, revealing my jet black chitin to the shocked group of gryphon warriors.

What happened afterwards is hard to recall. I reacted on instinct at that point. I hissed at the gryphons, and spit a gob of mucus at one of the Talons’ faces, blinding him as it hardened almost instantly. After that, I remember fleeing out of the palace with five gryphons on my tail. The chase that gave way was both terrifying and brief. I know not how I managed to lose them, but I did in the darkness of the forest, a sudden rainstorm giving me additional cover, its noise and wetness covering my sounds and scent. Thank the Hive Mother for small miracles!

Currently, I am in hiding within the attic of Chilopa’s tavern. He knows of my plight, and has already sent a coded message to Spiracle informing her and mother of my situation. Both of them will leave within two days of each other. Spiracle will feign a very serious case of Aeric flu and fatigue, forcing her to take leave to her southern estate near the coast. Chilopa will claim that one of his young gryphon sister’s is to be wed next week and take leave from his job. In truth, both will return to the local cluster hidden beneath Mosclaw, and prepare our families and friends to evacuate whilst sending a message to our queen.
In the meantime, methinks I must wait out what is no doubt a citywide hunt for me. I do not recall if the gryphons know much about our kind. A best case scenario is that they believe me to be some odd creature that is wearing their skin to hide amongst them. The worst case—and with the Owls, the most likely case—is that they know what I am, and have already prepared spells to locate me.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Day 110

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
1:35, Mosclaw, Gryphon Empire

I have taken precautionary measures, and will now store my journal and charcoal pen within my throat crop at all times when not in use. The pen, as well as the journal pages that hold the maps and war plans of the Empire’s upcoming invasion of Equestria, are coated in a protective charm to keep them from being damaged by my vital fluids. The spell also has a magic trigger that will destroy the journal entirely if ’tis touched by anyone other than myself unless I remove said spell.

I think I’m beginning to understand why Mother always said ’twas important to keep my crop muscles in prime shape. Mayhaps ’tis not as vestigial of an organ as our scholars are lead to believe!

Chilopa is gone now; he left earlier yesterday after sharing what dregs of love he had to offer with me, claiming I would need it for the journey I was about to take. He also informed me of a rumor that one of the Consuls had been complaining of a mild fever, and that she would ‘likely have to leave for her southern estate for some fresh air and much needed rest’.

Spiracle could probably use some rest back in the cluster, and honestly, I can only wish her the best. She has been nothing but a supportive leader for Chilopa and I. When we next meet, I shall be sure to put in a good word for her with our Den Mother.

For now, I must wait until I feel ’tis safe to retreat. I will assume the disguise of a merchant, and claim that I am returning to my home in the north after a vacation to ‘Her Empress’ Grand City of Mosclaw’.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

The Chase Begins

Day 111

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
14:15, Outskirts of Mosclaw, Gryphon Empire

Yet again, my hopes for an easy escape have been dashed.

As I was making my way down the main road leading north and away from Mosclaw proper, a small patrol of Talons had stopped me, asking for documentation. I produced the proper, forged documents, and were it not for one of those damnable Mage Knights I would likely have escaped without incident!

The mage asked me to hold still as they waved their staff over me, the crystalline end glowing in a faint light as I felt magic probe at my cover. This time, I had been prepared, and had cast a counterspell of sorts that would trigger in such an instance.

The moment the magic had managed to find a crack in my gryphon disguise, I unleashed a burst of light from my horn, creating a temporary blinding, deafening effect similar to what could be seen when an overcharged gem with magical properties bursts, except that I was able to keep myself from being affected in turn.

As the dozen or so Talons tried to recover, I took to the air. I knew the spell would only have a short-term effect on them. As I expected, only a minute had passed before I chanced a peek over my shoulder, finding eight Talons and that one mage gryphon pursuing me.

Fast they may have been, but where gryphons and pegasi excel in speed, we changelings excel in aerial maneuverability. Talons would make mad dives for me, only to be met with empty claws as I would abruptly stop and dart to the left or right. Like a dragonfly evading capture by birds, I avoided their talons, blades and crossbow bolts. For the better part of an hour I slowly made my way towards the northern boreal forests of Gryphon, all whilst avoiding capture and death.

After losing them in the thick greenery of pine trees and a light blanket of lingering morning fog, I have taken refuge in a hollow log beneath a cluster of spruce trees. I am not a fighter, and I know that if I were to attempt to engage a gryphon directly—even a new recruit with only a single pauldron to claim as their own—the fight would end in a mutual draw and death at best. My strength is in my wing muscles and my knowledge of the land. This is what I was chosen for.

I can hear the gryphons calling out to each other on occasion, circling the skies and attempting to find me in the evergreens. I cannot afford to stay here for long. The nights in the wilderness are far from hospitable. If the timberwolves and grass lions do not get to me first, the chill surely will. Even worse, I must continue north before I can journey westward, aiming for the narrow isthmus between the two continents that the gryphons are already using to stealthily move their troops. If I’m lucky, I shall make it across the thin body of water dividing the gryphon lands from Equestria without incident. If that is to be the case, though, then I must rest.

The thick blanket of moss I procured from the log shall have to do for now to keep me warm and concealed. The gryphons seem to be traveling further west, perchance thinking I retreated towards the coastline. I do not hope for a moment that this will be the last I see of them, though.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Day 113

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
01:00, Northern Gryphon territory, Gryphon Empire

I must be more careful. Far more careful.

I had yet another encounter with my pursuers, and were it not for a few lucky winds and my ability to swerve between the pines and spruces, I would be dead. ’Twould be wrong of me to say that my skills in flight provided no help, but one can only have so much luck. And right now, the last thing I need is to run out of any possible resource I might have, even something as elusive and unreliable as luck.

After almost another hour of flitting between trees, using their boughs as kickboards to quickly change direction in order to dodge darts and crossbow bolts, I managed to lose them once more near a waterfall overlooking a small valley. If I weren’t in such a dangerous situation, I might actually have taken some time to admire the beauty of the taiga wilds. The place is ripe with a wild, natural life force that you cannot find anywhere else in the world. No jungle, not even the legendary Everfree Forest, could hold a candle to this serene, yet untamed, wilderness of the northern lands.

But, I digress. My pursuers have given up the chase for the time being. I cannot fault them, really; who would think to look for a changeling in an abandoned beaver dam of all places?

I shall try and get a few hours’ rest before sun-up… then wait out the day before moving once more at night. I think I might attempt to practice my Equestrian alphabet whilst I am here in this beaver dam. It cannot hurt to better understand the language, after all. My mother always said that knowledge, before all else, is the most valuable asset to a Scout.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Day 116

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
07:40, Northern Gryphon territory, Gryphon Empire

I think I am beginning to understand how the old Pegasus warriors used to feel in the ancient times, back when they had to watch for Windigoes in the cold, star-filled nights following the end of the Great Despair.

The Equestrians simply refer to that time as the days before the unification of the pony tribes: the times before the event that is now celebrated as a holiday called “Hearth’s Warming”, or so I was told in my younger days as a hatchling. I am weary, but I cannot rest. I am hungry for love, but cannot find any in this emotional wasteland. I want to give in to my weakness and fatigue and just rest, but if I do, I am sure to be caught. That or die from the cold that never leaves the northern wastes, even in summer. How those ancient pegasus warriors managed to survive such trying times, I do not know, but I think I can empathize with them a little.

Hive Mother help me, I was tempted to change into a fox just to gain something from a passing vixen last night.

I have managed to keep my feeding on the love I have stored within me to a minimum, but ’tis taxing. Doing so also means I cannot afford to wear a cover, lest I risk draining what remaining reserves I have. Only months of training in becoming a Scout as well as my military training whilst in my job as a gryphon soldier have kept me from gorging on the warmth stored inside me all at once.

’Tis horrible to teeter on the brink of starvation, even more so when you must do so out of necessity.

The stormy strait dividing Equis and Aresia is within my vision, but I can see the same group of gryphons that had been chasing me earlier watching from the treeline as well. They must know, or at the very least suspect, that I am making my way for Equestria. Do they suspect me of being a spy, though? Do they know of the cargo I keep? I cannot tell. My only hope is that they came to this conclusion whilst chasing me, and not before then. If Mosclaw believes that I have gained information regarding their plans and am intending to share them with Equestria…

No. I cannot give in to such thoughts. Not now.

We have worked too long and too hard to give up. I must believe that what I am doing is going to help. I cannot, will not, allow this war to end with the Empire conquering Equestria. Whilst we may not be on favorable terms with either the gryphons or the ponies, at least Celestia has a tendency towards compassion and mercy. Queen Lepidoptes herself believes that if it came down to one side being utterly defeated by the other, Equestria would at the very least try to make things better in the end. ’Tis better to extend a hoof of mercy to a beaten Gryphon whilst holding a blade in the other than to erase an entire culture and source of love due to paranoia towards a powerful alicorn!

I shall wait for the night and take my chances by heading towards the strait. There are clouds rolling in from the west, and they should provide some cover from the light of the moon and stars tonight.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Enduring the Wilds

Day 117

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
00:10, Northern Gryphon territory, Gryphon Empire

I feel sick. The taste of iron and gryphon flesh is still slick on my tongue.

Oh Hive Mother, why did I do that? Why didn’t I just wait? Why? Why? Why?!

I am a monster, a horrid beast! What right did I have to take away his life? He was so young!

But… but he saw me. He opened his beak, about to cry out.

Methinks there is a reason we as a species have such sharp fangs…

That tiercel could still probably pass as a youth were I to walk by him by in Mosclaw. Why was he a Talon? Are they not trained to be hardened soldiers? Warriors who show no fear?

If that is to be the case… why did I taste such fear from him? Why did I feel the cold, bitter taste of despair on my lips and tongue as I heard him gurgle out for his mother?

Why?

(The remainder of the page is blotted out with smeared ink and water marks, making the rest of the writing illegible)

Day 117

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
03:40, Northern Gryphon territory, Gryphon Empire

I have hidden the body of the Talon that I—

(There are several scratched out lines follow the first line of the journal entry before the writing continues again.)

After hiding any indications of my incident with the Talon earlier this night, I have chanced another peek towards the treeline near the strait. If the pocket watch I have been carrying with me is any indication, the gryphons are rotating their patrols every hour. I can already tell that they notice one of their own is missing.

I can only hope they do not find his remains before I am long gone from this forest.

I was nearly seen when I made a detour to a nearby spring to drink. There was a young female gryphon cleaning some dirt from her wings. Judging by her armor and the pristine condition she kept it, she was likely the leader of the group. I had to wait almost an hour before she left to rejoin her group.

The water, it seems, has helped alleviate some of my sickness.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Day 118

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
20:35, Northeastern Coastline, north-northeast of Equestria

I have completed the crossing of the Aresian Straits under cover of darkness and a biting gale. Whilst my sickness seems to have lessened greatly, another problem has surfaced in its place.

’Twould seem the gryphons are either far more desperate to capture me than I had thought, or they lack any talented trackers within their rank-and-file Talons. My first suspicion of this being the case was when I noticed not one, but two gryphons dyed grey and wearing light armor I had not seen among my pursuers. The two gryphons not only managed to locate the small burrow I had created underneath a thick pine tree, but also managing to figure out how recently I had created it. Their sharp weapons and demeanor would give them away even if their distinctive fur and feather dye did not: They can only be Ravens.

So, the Owls have now decided to send their best trackers and assassins after me. I would be flattered if not for the fact that I was now dealing with enemies who were trained for finding and killing specific targets. They’re not soldiers, they’re elite warriors and hunters, trained in multiple forms of combat and second in ability only to the Red Talons themselves.

Despite my plight, ’twould seem that nature and the Hive Mother decided to grant me mercy that evening whilst I hid in the branches above my hideout, praying that the Ravens would decide to leave and think I had moved on. In that moment, whilst a strong wind blew against them, a pack of ten or so timberwolves had decided that a pair of gryphons would make for a decent meal. Given the fact that the pack was moving from behind the pair, the wind had masked their mossy stench.

The Ravens managed to fend off the arboreal-beasts’ initial ambush, but it had cost them the chance to find me. Whilst the two assassins fought off the timberwolf pack, I made for a quick escape as soon as a dark cloud had passed over the moon. A part of me felt pity for them, however, when I noticed another dozen or so timberwolves below me, stealthily making their way towards the commotion. Skilled as a gryphon can be with a blade… no creature can cover themselves from all angles with only steel and claw at their disposal. They will be forced to flee the scene, and I will make my getaway.

I tried to ignore the baying of the wolves and screaming from one of the gryphons as I continued through the conifers.

I am now holed up in a large owl nest that seems to have been abandoned for some time. I can still smell the faint odor of its previous occupants. Perchance it will be enough to mask my own scent, though. Besides… after tonight, methinks ’twould be wise to stay off the ground for the remainder of my time in the pine forests.

I learned of some interesting news whilst I overheard the two Ravens talking as they investigated my old hideout: They seem to have come to an agreement of some sort on discarding their armor, and try to pass themselves off as civilians as we near Equestrian lands. No doubt this is an attempt to dissuade suspicion of Gryphon military involvement, should they be discovered in Equestria’s borders. ’Tis a solid plan, given their apparent desperation, which I can taste coming off of them like a mountain spring bubbling up from the ground.

’Twould seem that despite their advantage in numbers, they realize that they are in a risky situation if I manage to reach the border. I can’t help but feel a little pride in knowing I, of all Changelings, am causing them this distress.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Day 120

Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign
04:10, Northeastern Equis Coastline

(There are specks of green dotting the journal entry’s page, making the first portion of the journal entry illegible.)

-had I dodged a little later, I would have likely been struck in the lungs. My chitin was able to stop most of the bolt, but it hurts to lift my left foreleg more than what is necessary to walk. Running is out of the question. Thankfully, my flight muscles seem to have been unharmed.

I washed myself off at a creek, mostly to clean the wound and deny the gryphons a trail of blood to follow. Thank the Hive Mother that there was a patch of Vitali Lilies growing near the river. The leaves have served well as a makeshift bandage, and their waxy coating is doing wonders for the pain. It still hurts, but I can at least move without wincing now.

I pray that the bolt wasn’t poisoned. I sniffed it, and there was no lingering smell. I’ve heard of some Ravens coating their blades in poison, but these two hadn’t. Were they under orders to take me alive? I cannot allow that. They will turn me over to the Owls, who will magically pry into my mind and learn of my hive and cluster. I will die before I allow that.

The desert nights as I near the frontier are like a warm blanket, but I cannot rest easy yet. I know the gryphons are still looking for me. I could hear some Aeric outside the small, abandoned badger hole I took refuge in last night. Hushed whispers, but all the same, Aeric. No doubt they do not wish to be seen on Equestrian soil, not after they had been driven off by Celestia herself.

We must be getting close, though. I can taste the faintest hints of emotions that are not the gryphons’. South. They taste of something that’s not quite love, but more than just happiness.

I have never been to Equestria myself, but I have learned the languages of the ponies and now I think I understand the many idyllic descriptions I have heard from veteran scouts about the land. Even from afar I sense this land is ripe with magic, and just being in closer proximity to it means I have felt better than I have in days since I set my hooves on this continent.

It could be my mind simply going mad after days of very little feeding upon love and having little to drink, but I am hopeful.

May the Hive Mother guide me.

Solace

(The following entry was stained in what we now know to be the blood of the young Plexippa Lepidoptes. Our scouts managed to recover the journal from Plexippa, who had been very adamant about keeping it on her person until she had spoken to the leading officer on duty. Whilst most of the pages are illegible following the previous written entry, our best mages managed to carefully remove the majority of the bloodstains whilst preserving the following writing. She could not have written these entries as the events happened, so they must have been recorded in her delirium afterwards.)

They found—

—fort in the distance. I have cast a green flare from my horn. I think they saw it.

-bad. I never have seen so much blood in my life, let alone my own. Pegasi fighting the gryphons and—

It hurts to breathe. Hive Mother, every breath is torture for me. But, I must hold on. Just a little longer. The Plans! Please, take them—

The faint emotions I felt last night. They were coming from a fort! A fort! The last place I would expect such emotions to be felt! The Equestrians are apparently celebrating something. A holiday, perchance? A promotion of someone? I know not, but it is soothing. I—

—gave me painkillers. I’m in a small, dimly lit room. The… sergeant? I do not remember much, but—something about a firefly? I have released the spell on my journal now. I am as safe as I can hope to be.

(The next few lines were a mixture of words that looked to be a mess of Aeric, Equestrian, and what we believe to be her own species’ language. Regrettably, we have no means of creating an accurate translation at the present time. The words ‘mother’ and ‘sorry’, written in Aeric and Equestrian, are able to be deciphered amongst the stains, however. Then, all at once, the writing turned lucid for the journal’s final entries, perchance due to the salves our unicorn healers applied.)

Sergeant Firefly!

Yes, now I remember. She had supposedly helped fight gryphons a few months prior? I know not of her importance aside from that, but she was warm. Very warm. I could feel something else from her, too. What was it? Worry? Sadness?

Sadness. Yes, she was sad. Not crying, but sad. Did I ask her why? I do not remember much, but I am certain she said something about me being brave, and a friend.

I am not brave. I am a coward.

I have killed. I am tired. But she called me friend.

A friend…

(Reports from the two Corps sentries stationed outside of the room Plexippa had been kept whilst tending to her wounds claim that at around 23:45 of August 31st, 1139 A.C. she began to glow a ‘brilliant, verdant color’ and her wings started sparkling. Though allowing the healers to help her, she had ignored their words and questioning, picked up the charcoal pen beside her journal that she still clung to and began to write in it. As soon as she finished what she had written, she closed the journal, set down the charcoal pen, and closed her eyes. Her glow quickly faded and she was reported dead at 00:31 hours of September 1st. The following lines are her final words written in the journal:)

My name is Plexippa Lepidoptes, fifteenth daughter of Her Majesty Queen Lepidoptes IV. I pray that this journal finds itself in the hooves of an Equestrian officer or, I dare hope, Princess Celestia herself. ’Twould be wishful thinking regarding the latter, but in these trying times, one cannot afford to lose spirit. I know my mother would tell me the same.

I do not have long. I am burning what remnants of love and my life force I have left. I have been slipping in and out of what feels like a deep sleep periodically. I know not how long I have been at this fort, but the Equestrians have been surprisingly gentle and cared for me as best as they can. I hope they do not feel they are to blame for me being unable to recover. I have never been the most durable among my species, after all. Still, for tending to me as best as you all could, thank you, Equestrian healers. Thank you, Equestrian warriors, who responded to my magic flare when I was desperate for aid and salvation from my gryphon pursuers. Please know that your actions were worth the effort. I know you owe me no favors, but I would request that you cremate my remains when I die. ’Tis military tradition back in my homeland that comrades would create a pyre for the fallen if they cannot be buried at home. Such is our way of ensuring evidence of kind and way of life is not found.

Contained within this journal are rough plans for an invasion of Equestria. I know not if the Gryphons are aware of these plans being procured by me, but given how desperate they were to find me, it seems likely. My accomplices and I were careful to make copies whilst doing what we could to not leave any clues. Hopefully, the few gryphons that had followed me onto Equestrian soil were the only ones who had any idea. If that is the case, then the pegasi of this fort have silenced whatever chance of a warning they had. Use this knowledge that I have given you, and use it as best as you can.

Princess Celestia, if you by chance read this, know that there is at least one changeling hive that believes you will find the best way to end this upcoming conflict. We are small in number, but we will do what we can to aid you, even if it must be unseen. My mother has stated as such in her letter that is among the documents I have given. Distrust us, despise us, but we will continue to support you, for in doing so, we ensure our own survival as well. The inaction from the other hives is only a means of surrendering to starvation.

War has always been constant in one aspect: it will bring grief and death. Methinks, however, that by siding with you, we will prevent the world from falling into as great of a pit of despair and hatred. Trying times await you, Princess, but I feel that in such times, you will shine brightest. I only wish I could have met you in person. You were an inspiration for my mother many times in her years as a young ruler. Continue to hold that peaceful strength that you possess close. Your soldiers and subjects will look to it in the darkest hours that lie ahead.

May the Hive Mother guide you, Princess Celestia. Know that even if you do not see them, there will be those aiding you quietly from the shadows that even your light may not reach.

If this journal should, by chance, reach my mother: Mother, please do not blame yourself. In the end, royal status should not exempt one from doing what they can to help their subjects. The reverse is true, in fact, for is it not the role of leaders to protect and guide their subjects? I do know that ’twas my duty as a Scout, as well as a Princess and daughter to a Changeling Queen, to do what I could to ensure our kind survive these trying times.

I love you, Mother. Tell my sisters and brothers the same. Know that my time has come, but I died in peace and comfort. ’Tis more than we Scouts can usually hope for in our line of work.

How odd. My magic is fading now, and my eyes are suddenly heavy. I have lost feeling in my hooves. Holding up my pen is taxing for me. I shall rest. This place is warm. Comforting.

So warm.

Even now, ’tis a story that still brings tears to my eyes.

Greetings, my subjects, and warm greetings as well to my sister ruler and her Changelings who live among us, silently watching over us from afar. When I had initially been asked if I could share my own words regarding Princess Plexippa, I was not sure at first if what I had to offer would do her name and memory justice. Before Plexippa’s brave act of heroism, followed by her unfortunate death, I had not seen nor heard anything regarding changelings for at least two hundred years. Which methinks is how they normally like it.

However, Plexippa is more than a stranger or changeling. In the end, she was someone who cared. She was a hero. She willingly gave her life in the hopes that her actions might buy Equestria precious time to prepare for the Gryphon invasion. Not only was she a stranger to Equestria, she was also not a pony. Yet, she did not hesitate to give everything she had to aid us, sacrificing her very life to do so. Not only that, but her words helped embolden me. In the dark days that followed as the invasion of Equestria began, I would at times find my thoughts turn to Plexippa’s words for comfort and hope. In many ways, she was more of a princess than I myself can claim to be during the war. As she herself said, ’tis the role of a leader to guide and protect, and I fear I neglected the latter before the war.

But she did not. ’Tis certain she went above and beyond this calling, protecting not only her own subjects, but those of race and a nation that she had no obligation towards. Methinks she did this out of a genuine desire to protect those that she felt needed it, and for that compassion, I am eternally grateful to her. She did all of this, and expected nothing in return. Such selflessness is a true rarity.

Plexippa Lepidoptes, if by some unearthly chance you can read my words and hear my voice, know this: Your bravery was not in vain. Because of you, my subjects were able to stand even the barest of chances in the first parts of the war. Because of you, Equestria survives and the Gryphon Kingdom is now our friend. I cannot thank you enough for what you gave me and my ponies, but I will try anyway.

Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my unaging alicorn heart. I will honor your sacrifice and treasure your memory always. Methinks my only regret is that I never had the chance to meet you. And to her mother, Queen Lepidoptes: I will write you a more private letter, which I will leave where your subjects may find. But I wish to say publicly, on behalf of all Equestria: thank you for your wise and brave decision to help us, thank you for risking the safety of your hive to do so, and thank you for the daughter you raised. She will never be forgotten, nor your aid to us. You saved us, and I am forever grateful.

May the Hive Mother guide you, and may the Sun and Moon bless you. I will raise them both in your honor this coming day, my dear and fallen Princess.

Signed,

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria

Author's Note

So, yeah. I remember when I had just started looking over this story and offering up my thoughts to Firesight that he mentioned something about me possibly giving a contribution. Of course, me being me, I immediately thought: changelings?

The end result was a nice little short about a spy on the run. I figured that, given there is no real mention of changelings before the recent discovery Gryphon’s plan to invade, their role would be best left as subtle in this war. And, seeing as changelings are good at disguising themselves, this seemed an appropriate way to include the lovebugs.Firesight more or less gave me the green light once he gave me some details on what happened to spark the war, and gave me the keys. I took this plotline straight down the changeling county road and didn’t look back, as you can see. Maybe I have a mild obsession with them? Maybe I just felt they need a spotlight? Eh, thoughts for later. Hope you all enjoyed this bit. It wouldn’t have been possible without the help of the usual guys: Silent Woodfire, AJ Aficionado, Leo Archon, and Firesight himself. Next up, we have the beginnings of the war that would impact Firefly and her friends and change the world at large. I may offer up my pen again as a guest in a future chapter, but that’s thoughts for later. For now, I’m just happy to have made this little contribution to the story, and getting to offer my pre-reading skills when needed.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

—Denim_Blue

Not much to say, as this was Denim's guest chapter, and I couldn't be more pleased with it! Celestia spoke for me at the end when she said it brought tears to her eyes to read. I made a few edits and additions here and there, but the credit is Denim's and Leo Archon in fact contributed more to this than me, writing the initial Firefly narration sections and several other chunks. As for something mentioned at the beginning, yes, the decision has been made to break this up into a trilogy of individual stories, so this one will be coming to an end as we start the next one, which details the the first desperate months of the war proper, from the initial onslaught to the gates of Canterlot itself. Be looking for it!

—Firesight

Interlude #5, Part 1: Carrying One's Weight

Before we conclude this volume and begin the next with the telling of the war proper, there is one final set of tales I wish to relate.

’Tis the story of my mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear, a stallion who became the only pony in history to earn not one, but two Defender of Harmony awards as well as the Royal Guard’s rarely-granted Ruby of Honor. His deeds that won them are well-known, but his past somewhat less so, and I wish to honor the pony who did so much to turn me into the mare and warrior I became… by showing something of how he became the stallion and soldier he was.

Thus, before we relate how he gained his first Defender of Harmony award, I wish to tell the story of his first time in combat, some twenty years before the war began. ’Tis the same tale he related to me in his office when I came back from my first deployment, needing his counsel after my own first combat action; how he demonstrated to me by example that he truly did understand how I felt and how he had later come to terms with it.

’Tis been a long time since that day, and my memories of it had faded enough that I had a Corps unicorn counselor cast a memory recall spell on me, wanting to do his story justice. Such spells are not used lightly as they cause you to not just remember what happened, but relive it all, to the point that you experience again everything you felt at the time. In my case, that was the severe self-doubt over my actions and agony over making my first kill.

’Twas not pleasant, but I am still glad I did it. For I can now relate the tale he told me exactly as he himself said it. I was somewhat surprised to realize it took him nearly twenty minutes to tell it, for at the time methinks it felt far shorter than that. And for those who wonder why I did not relate this story in that earlier chapter, ’twas because I did not wish it overshadowed by my own. ’Tis certain his story deserves to be heard no less than mine or any other Bolt Knight, for without him, I could never have become an Armored Guardspony or have attained the heights I did…

For without him, we would have had no hero or hope to inspire us in those first few terrible weeks of war. The following is recited verbatim from that long ago meeting, though I have also added a few asides here and there to make clear his mood or expression at the time.

“If you still doubt yourself, let me tell you a story, Sergeant…” he began. “’Tis about a cocky young colt fresh out of basic, not too unlike yourself. One who thought himself invincible, was the best recruit in his class, graduated with a high starting rank and thought he could beat the entire Gryphon Empire by himself.”

I guessed instantly who that colt was, but decided I’d play along. “Perchance I know him, sir?”

“Perchance you do…” he granted, smiling wanly. “He was but eight weeks out of basic when he saw his first action, fighting out of Outpost Delta when a large force of gryphons raided Trottingham over the holidays…”

Call to Duty

Eight weeks into my first deployment, one thing I’d learned about the Corps was that border patrols tended to be long and monotonous.

Tactics were a bit different back then. Squad leaders also acted as flight leaders, meaning there were twelve per squad instead of thirteen. So when on patrol, you flew out as a squad into three flights of four each spaced a mile apart, the squad leader commanding the middle flight, with each flight further back flying a thousand feet higher so if the ones in front got in trouble, the ones behind could see and speed to the rescue via diving. You flew out along the border canyon around sixty miles to roughly the point the next outpost’s patrols would take over, reporting back to base every twenty miles, then turned around and went back. You were supposed to be alert at all times and hold a diamond formation with the flight leader in front and those behind slightly higher, two to either side and one directly behind you above the rest.

In practice, methinks discipline rarely held like that in the open air where nothing could reasonably approach you without you seeing it from miles away. We were supposed to keep watch for gryphons, but as raiders avoided patrols, you never saw them and ’twas never any action. ’Twas oft a boring task, and your attention tended to wander, or you started engaging in conversation or banter with your squadmares.

Methinks I’d gotten to know mine quite well over the previous two months. My squad was fresh out of basic, and in a rarity for a stallion, I’d made Corporal right out of the gates. ’Twas a reward for my proven strength and combat ability, able to beat all my fellow trainees and even a few trainers to start. ’Twas rarer still for us to be given a combat post, but I’d all but demanded one, wanting to follow in the hoofsteps of my father, who made Colonel in the Corps.

’Tis the irony of the Corps, you know, one that holds to this day: though there are few stallions in combat posts, those that are tend to make it far by simple virtue of the fact they aren’t allowed to fight unless they show themselves to be a strong soldier with great combat ability from the start. Thus, if you see a stallion in the field or especially an older one in command, ’tis certain they are a very good warrior who saw and survived plenty of battles along the way.

Such I was hoping ’twould yet be with me; I imagined myself as a Captain, a Colonel, or even the Corps commanding general someday. I could not hope to reach such rarified ranks unless I saw some action, but after weeks of fruitless patrols only interrupted by drills, inspections, and occasional assignment to weather duty or simply peeling onions and apples in the mess hall, methinks I was chafing at the proverbial bit.

Windshear paused to rub his eyes with a hoof at this point, perchance thinking what a foal he had been.

’Tis certain I wasn’t the only one, either. The mares of my second flight were also eager for something, anything to happen, though ’tis certain we were increasingly finding ways to entertain each other when we were off-duty. ’Twas said to be one of the more unspoken duties of being a rare combat-assigned stallion that you did what you could for the mares you served with, and indeed, I’d already formed a clique with mine.

It had earned us a stern talking-to by the XO, Sergeant First Class Anthelion, just a few weeks earlier; she promised she would break us up and transfer one or more of us out at the first sign that our little arrangement was interfering with good order and discipline.

Thus far, we’d given her no reason to, nor did we plan to, as ’twas certain we were enjoying each other’s camaraderie and company far too much.

“So, ’tis true you got leave for Hearth’s Warming then, sir?” Bluejay asked from my left as we hit the halfway point and made a slow, lazy arc to turn around. “Lucky.”

“Methinks it’s not luck at all. So how’d you bribe Anthelion, sir?” Oriole asked from my right.

“Methinks that’s none of your business!” I grinned back, knowing full well I was only inviting teasing.

“Probably the same way he convinces us to follow him around. Show a little flank?” Cardinal suggested from directly behind me, causing me to grin again and offer my well-muscled hip up to the three for inspection. I was a young stud and I knew it; methinks I had no qualms about flaunting it then either.

“Give me some credit, fillies. The XO is a perfectly reasonable mare. All I did was to offer her extra duty… and a small keg of Burro Sangria I’d had delivered all the way from Mexicolt!” ’twas my answer back, to the laughter of all.

My mentor smiled as he remembered the banter and the colt he once was, his expression turning wistful as I inquired about the similarity of names of his flight mares.

Privates Oriole, Bluejay, and Cardinal. ’Tis true, their names were more than mere coincidence—the three were sisters. Triplets, in fact; methinks I didn’t envy their mother for either their birth or upbringing, and beneath their fur dye they bore the colors of the birds they were named after.

One thing I’d learned about them quickly was that they had each other’s back, and methinks you had to watch your own around them simply for the pranks they were liable to play, even out on patrol. Still, ’twas no question we got along quite well, both on and off-duty; the thought had already occurred to me that we might even make a good herd…

A thought that was lost as my communication gem suddenly vibrated and emitted a shrill sound in its pouch, one that made my heart jump—an alert!

Startled, I fumbled with it for a moment whilst the others gathered around me, the mood instantly turning serious. “Windshear squad reporting!” I acknowledged, wondering what was happening, half-thinking ’twas just a surprise drill—we’d seen neither fur nor feather of the gryphons since we’d been stationed at Delta, despite overly-dire warnings of raider groups operating in the area.

To my surprise, ’twas not. “Corporal Windshear! We have multiple intrusion alarms going off in your sector! A score of gryphons from the Lythos raider group have been sighted by Army hoof patrols crossing the border! Probable raid underway, target Trottingham!” the voice of our watch officer, Flight Sergeant Warhawk, said.

“Acknowledged ma’am! Will intercept and engage at once!” I promised in giddy excitement, one shared by my squadmares. A raid? That meant action! We were finally going to fight!

But ’tis certain my hopes were dashed as quickly as they were raised. “Neigh, Windshear! Their numbers are unknown but likely too great for you to defeat alone!” she informed me. “Gather up your squad and head for Trottingham to assist the Army garrison in the town defense! Report to Army Spear Sergeant Ironsides on arrival and hold the line until reinforcements arrive! Delta is dispatching a platoon that will be there in an hour!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” I acknowledged in disappointment—if they were raiders, who cared about their numbers? We were the Corps! ’Twas certain they were no match for us and certainly no match for me! But orders were orders. “Windshear squad en route! Let’s go, fillies!” I announced as I stood on my wing and banked hard left, the rest of the flight doing the same.

Using separate crystals I called my other flights to me whilst doing some quick calculations, stopping long enough to wait for them to catch up and check a map of the area I kept in a storage pouch. Trottingham was about twelve miles from the border, but nearly thirty from our current position… and over sixty from Delta. They must have waited for us to pass and then slipped in behind our patrol, so they likely knew we were nearby; methinks they also knew how fast we and reinforcements from Delta could get there, so whatever they sought in their raid they would have to gain quickly and then leave.

Methinks I had no idea what they wanted with Trottingham—the locals spoke oddly, a product of having been an isolated colony for several hundred years—and didn’t produce much of note except potatoes, tea and crumpets… and some surprisingly effective red-uniformed militia that was nearly on par with regular Army forces, a product of a long history where they were but a remote island within the wild Equestrian continent who had nopony to rely upon except themselves. Methinks their propensity to fry their potatoes was interesting, though… and surprisingly tasty from the one time I’d taken a two-day leave there.

Having had those potatoes fed me by Swift Strike, I can say that he’s right! Their ale is quite good, too…

It only took two minutes for my other flights to arrive at my position, but the wait still seemed interminably long. I cursed the delay, but standing orders were to never go into action against raiders as anything less than a squad, we’d been told repeatedly, or you’d risk being overwhelmed flight by flight. But arrive they did, at which point we formed up and headed for the town at intercept speed. ’Twas a pace you didn’t want to fly at for more than twenty minutes or so as ’twould tire you out, but I decided to chance it as ’twould get us there in fifteen minutes—hopefully in enough time to take part in whatever action awaited before the Army drove off the attack and got all the glory.

The flight there may have taken fifteen minutes, but the town was in sight within ten… and the first thing we saw was smoke rising from several distinct points and a small cloud of about a dozen dots overhead swarming like desert gnats. But as the town did not have a pegasus population or Corps garrison, that could only mean…

“Look, sir! Gryphons!” my second flight leader, PFC Stormchaser, called out, pointing. “It’s a raid, all right!”

’Twas then that I realized my initial fears were unfounded—there was going to be plenty for us to do, and despite what I was seeing, I couldn’t help but grin. This meant combat! And better yet, as ’twas clearly an attack, with fires set, our rules of engagement meant lethal force was instantly authorized.

“Squad, on me!” I called out, deploying my wingblades, the rest of them taking my cue to do so themselves. “There’s only a dozen, so let’s take these chickenhawks down quick, before they can make a break for it! We attack from high to low, one flight element per gryphon!” I told them, already breaking with doctrine to assign my forces two to one instead of four to one.

“Sir, yes sir!” my squad responded eagerly like we were back in basic, and I felt a moment of fierce pride. This was what I had always wanted, to lead troops into battle and fight for my princess and province! After a lifetime of waiting, including twelve weeks of basic and eight weeks of deployment, my patience had finally been rewarded!

My heady thoughts only grew as we got closer, and the dots resolved themselves into alien figures, lean and predatory. They were as they’d always been described—half lion and half eagle with feathered avian heads and forelegs giving way to leonine hindquarters ending in a tasseled tail. They were larger than average ponies and also dressed in animal skins painted up to look like dragon scales—the signature of the Lythos group, we knew from briefings, who seemed to take the draconic races as their inspiration. I remember wondering idly what would happen if they encountered real dragons like that, and the thought brought a smile to my face.

He wore a wry version of that smile and sighed heavily at this point, and then looked up at me.

’Tis no exaggeration to say I was an overconfident foal who was charging in headfirst—sound familiar?— and I learned quickly why as we dove on them only to be spotted, dropping just two on the initial attack instead of the six I’d hoped, most of our blades finding only air or a hastily drawn sword as our adversaries swooped, dodged, or even fired flares to alert their companions, surprisingly maneuverable in the air for their size. To my disgust, instead of engaging us openly, they then scattered to clouds and rooftops and started sniping at us from a distance with crossbows; a fact that was driven home when something sharp and narrow passed near my head. I heard a pained cry to my right and turned to see Private Corsair struggling to remain aloft with an ugly bolt sticking out of her side, a stain of red quickly forming against her light blue flight armor.

At this point, Windshear turned pensive and stared into his tea. I had the thought then he looked like I must have when I realized I’d been tricked.

Harsh Realities

Methinks it never really occurred to me until that moment that combat meant casualties, and doctrine existed for a reason. Methinks I was also starting to understand that numbers did matter as I saw additional gryphons rising to meet us, leaving us outnumbered nearly three to one in the air. ’Twas then I decided that perchance our initial orders were best obeyed—despite whatever fantasies I’d been entertaining, a single Corps squad couldn’t win this fight alone, and there was a very real chance I or the others could die if we didn’t make for the Army base immediately.

“Third flight, protect Corsair! First and second, on the wings! Carve a path to the Army garrison!” I said, turning towards the Army Outpost, its small series of green-hued buildings obvious against the backdrop of more colorful pastel ones. It also seemed to be the focus of the fires we were seeing, though ’twas also clear there were defenders alive and fighting as a gryphon was suddenly shot through by a longbow arrow and fell backwards off the roof he’d been sniping from.

I could only hope they didn’t shoot us by accident, besieged as they were. ’Twas only then I remembered in the midst of the growing chaos that there were predefined signals I could use… so I fired the red flare on my belt. We got an answering one from the army base, colored green—and immediately made for it, passing through a sudden hail of crossbow bolts from above and below. We bobbed and weaved and dodged most of them, but my squad took a second hit as this time, PFC Stormchaser fell victim, taking a painful hit to the shoulder that caused her to shriek and her flight to falter badly. Fortunately, she made it the rest of the way, and we flew into the place we saw the flare launched from, an improvised bunker with a hastily opened skylight, swiftly closed behind us.

The ponies there looked none too happy to see us, and methinks they had little reason to be, besieged as they were, the doors and windows barricaded, two gryphon raiders lying dead beside one. Alarmingly, I saw only twenty armored defenders instead of the forty I would have thought for a full army platoon; there were also around sixty civilians in the space, taking refuge, though many adults, mare and stallion alike had actively taken up arms as well from the garrison armory—clearly, Trottingham’s reputation for citizen soldiers was real.

“Corporal Windshear from Outpost Delta reporting, sir!” I saluted the garrison commander slightly shakily, recognizing only then my close brush with death. “We’re here to help!”

Far from grateful or sympathetic for our wounded, the large helmeted earth pony with four Spear Sergeant stripes and a crossbow strapped to his left foreleg returned my salute with a disgusted look. “And methinks you’ve done a magnificent job of that so far, haven’t you? Just what were you doing up there, Corporal? Methinks you lost two of your squad uselessly!” he said as his overburdened healers started to attend my wounded squadmares. Thankfully, their wounds were not lethal.

I cringed like I’d screwed up in basic, feeling like I was facing my trainee instructor, Sergeant First Class Rolling Thunder again. “Sir, w-we tried to drop as many as I could on the first pass, sir! But th-they saw us and…” I barely began to stammer.

“Of course they did! They have the eyes of eagles, you idiot! You had a chance to take them by surprise and you wasted it! Weren’t you ever told to attack out of the sun?” he reminded me heatedly, causing me to blink and my jaw to drop open. We were indeed taught that. Constantly. And in my rush to get into the fight, I’d completely forgotten the most basic of tactics, and thus two of my squad had paid the price. Worse, we were now as besieged as the army troops we’d come to rescue as a unicorn defender suddenly fell to a crossbow bolt fired through the window she’d been looking through, making her longbow fall to the floor with a clatter.

“Corporal?” Ironsides called to me, but I didn’t hear him. For at that moment, I realized the enormity of what I was in, causing all my warrior fantasies about fighting and glory to evaporate. This wasn’t how I thought ’twould be! This wasn’t how ’twas supposed to be!

As I watched, Windshear’s eyes turned something akin to frightened and bewildered as he suddenly found himself back at that moment. ’Twas then I knew he truly did understand what I was feeling, for he had his own difficult trial by fire. Though methinks I did not yet know how much worse ’twas going to get…

“Corporal!” Ironsides called to me again, more sharply, but I didn’t respond. I felt frozen inside. Just… trapped. I did not know what to do. ’Twas as if all my training and skill suddenly meant nothing, and for the first time I feared we were all going to die here… and worse, ’twas all my fault…

All my fault…

A hoof grabbed my uniform tunic and shook me hard, snapping me out of my sudden self-pity. “Dammit! I don’t have time for this! Get your head in the game, Corporal!” Ironsides ordered me, the bite in his voice having some effect as I again felt like I was back in basic. “This fight is still on and we need Corps support! Our communications are out, so has Delta dispatched additional troops?” he asked me, getting in my face and forcing me to look at him.

“I… what?” I struggled and failed to focus again, an unreasoning wave of fear beginning to overcome me as I heard an explosion outside as they tried to gain entry to the garrison bunker. “Troops… yes… platoon… coming…” I could only manage single words at that point, feeling myself starting to hyperventilate. I could only pray they made it before we were all dead…

Sergeant Ironsides stared at me.

And then he hit me.

Hard.

He gave me a right cross with an armored hoof, striking me with enough force to knock me eight feet sideways and send me sprawling to the ground. The blow to my head snapped me back to my senses and I gaped up at him in shock, only for the first time noticing my squad staring at me. Ironsides then hauled me up and threw me hard against a support column, and methinks his next words are seared into my memory to this day:

“Now you listen and you listen well, Corporal. I realize this is your first fight, but I don’t have time to coddle you or any of your other hatchlings! ’Tis certain I need you and your squad now, so get your bucking head in order! You are a soldier of Equestria, so by Celestia’s sun, start bucking ACTING like it!Or does the Equestrian Army have to carry the Aerial Corps’ weight again?” he all but sneered, to derisive sounds from the rest of his hard-pressed but unimpressed platoon.

As ’tis certain was his intention, the insult to honor got my attention and my fear was suddenly replaced by white-hot anger. The Corps was honor. The Corps was tradition. The Corps were warriors. And above all else, The Corps would not be overshadowed by the ground-bound Equestrian Army!

My face contorted in a snarl of my own. “Shut up!”I shouted back, surprising him with a headbutt—my speciality attack, even then—staggering him enough that I could then backhoof him hard with my own hoofstriker, sending him to the ground as I then stood over him, wings flared in anger.

He looked up in surprise at my strength, then smiled, pulling himself back up, rubbing a trail of blood from his lip. “That’s better. Methinks if you want a duel, you can have it later, Corporal… after we’ve dealt with these chickenhawks?”

“Methinks I will hold you to that,” I said, still seething, the blow having felt far better than it should have. “My squad is at your disposal, Spear Sergeant. What is the situation and what are your orders…?”

* * * * *

He explained our predicament shortly over a map of the town. We were besieged by nearly eighty raiders—far more than the twenty I’d been told about; they’d apparently crossed the border at multiple locations but only one formation had been spotted—and their intent was a simple ‘smash-and-grab’, to use the Spear Sergeant’s term. Half of them were holding down his base whilst the others were looting the town, breaking into homes, pubs, and stores, knowing they’d be well-stocked with food, gems and other valuables during the Hearth’s Warming holiday season… and that his forces would be depleted with a third of his platoon on holiday leave, now crippled further by at least eight casualties. Worse, the raiders were almost certainly going to take hostages back to hold for ransom, and worse still… they’d be foals they could carry with them.

“Not as long as we’re here!” I flared my wings, promising we’d chase them down.

Ironsides was unimpressed at my sudden display of bravado. “And what will you do when they hold a knife to their throats in midair, Corporal, and you’re faced with a sobbing colt or filly? What will you do when they drop or outright kill one to make clear their intentions and then dare you to come after them whilst they likewise threaten the rest?”

I deflated at that, as did my squad. In all my flights of warrior fantasy, I never imagined I’d face such ruthless or dishonorable foes. “Then how do we stop them?”

“Methinks they’re not stupid. They mean to leave before Corps reinforcements arrive, but we may be able to make them stay long enough to get wiped out,” he told me, then went on to outline a plan. ’Twas said the Lythos group, unlike other raiders, swore an oath of allegiance to each other and weren’t willing to leave group members behind. So if we took some prisoners of our own as bargaining chips…

“And that is where your squad comes in,” he took me over by an isolated corner and revealed a trapdoor underneath a rug. “This leads to outside the base perimeter and comes up inside the storage room of a local pub—never mind why,” he headed off my immediate question. “You can use this to deactivate the protective enchantment and raise the gate at the end,” he tossed me a small crystal. “Methinks this will allow you to take them by surprise, so don’t squander it this time! Heed my orders well, Corporal—kill what you can but do not linger or they will quickly overwhelm you with numbers. Stay beneath the rooftops and they won’t be able to easily use crossbows against you. Fight your way back in towards the base and bring at least two raiders back alive!” He poked at my chest with a hoofstriker repeatedly to emphasize his words, then grabbed a series of manacles off a nearby table and threw them at my hooves. “You can use these to secure them. Break their wings and limbs if you have to, even!”

A chill and a thrill went through me. Methinks any other time I would have taken offense to such a dishonorable suggestion or being lectured on tactics by the Equestrian Army, but here, I realized he was right. “Orders understood. But why two prisoners?” I asked him as I passed the manacles out to clip to our belts, to which he smiled thinly.

“So if they kill a hostage, we can kill one of our own and still have a bargaining chip left over.”

Windshear paused at this moment to refill his tea, and mine. I had the distinct impression he was gathering himself before proceeding.

Into the Fight

Have I ever mentioned that I have a touch of claustrophobia?

’Tis said to be a common pegasus fear, but methinks I did not know I had it too until we started crawling through that tunnel, too small and narrow to fly through, forcing us to walk with wingblades retracted and wings tucked, single-file. The quarters were uncomfortably cramped and the air was stifling; methinks the general menace of the situation wasn’t helping either as we could smell smoke and hear indistinct noises above, including a few screams. ’Twas a dark and dirty tunnel, lit only by the light of the firegem I held, and I swore then I would never look down on the Equestrian Army in contempt for fighting from tunnels and trenches again.

Fortunately, it did not last long. About three minutes after entering the tunnel, we reached the promised gate that marked the base perimeter. The unlock gem worked, and we passed it to emerge a minute later into the comparatively fresh air of a storage cellar, to my great relief. It had already been broken into, as shown by the ruined door and smashed chests, and its raiders were still nearby as we could clearly hear the sound of talon clacks and harsh Aeric speech upstairs, punctuated by the sounds of a crying foal and sobbing mother.

Hearing that, my first inclination was to rush up immediately to rescue them, as ’tis certain was that of my squadmares. But remembering where rushing in headlong had gotten us earlier, I held up a hoof to stop them and signaled for quiet. We had to know what we faced first. I’d heard two gryphon voices, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others, just as there turned out to be four times the twenty raiders we were told of.

Unfortunately, ’twas no way to see without sticking my head out, which could easily invite a crossbow bolt or worse, an explosive gem tossed down the stairs. But then I remembered the forgotten lesson of always striking out of the sun. We couldn’t do so in the literal sense here, but perchance there was a way to recreate that effect…

My hoof went to my flare pouch. I had two remaining, one white and one blue, each in their launch tube. Though not a flash gem like the Lances used, they burned very bright and could be blinding at close range. Pulling out the white one, I looked back at my squadmares and indicated I was going to launch it upstairs and to cover their eyes. They gave nervous nods as they waited, not deploying their blades immediately as they, like me, had enough sense to realize the metallic noise of it could give us away.

With a silent prayer, I triggered the flare, pointing the tube up the cellar stairs into the ground floor ceiling and waited, trying to will my foreleg not to shake.

He then posed like he was doing so, his arm outstretched and an expression on his face I could only call frightened but determined.

Methinks I was never so scared as it went off about a half-second later than it should have. It shot from the tube and burst right as it hit the ceiling in a brilliant shower of sparks, then fell to the floor beneath it in the middle of the room. After the initial flash had faded and I heard all the pained cries, I shot upstairs, my squad behind me. We burst out of the cellar, our blades deploying as we did so.

We found not two, but four gryphons, clawing at their eyes, smoke rising from scorched fur and feathers, one cursing and wildly swinging his sword and the others staggering backwards… dropping their stolen supplies and hostage foal. She and her mother were temporarily blinded and likewise burned by the sparks that hit them, their fur singed in places along with the gryphons, but it couldn’t be helped.

Our own vision intact, we acted immediately. My blades scored first as I took the most dangerous target for myself, the wildly-swinging gryphon, parrying his blind efforts with one wing and then slicing open his neck with the other. He gave a gurgling shriek as his lifeblood spilled out, spattering me with it. Methinks I had little time to register it as two of his comrades were cut down by Cardinal and Bluejay, at which point the fourth and final one threw down his blade and bared his throat, cowering in the corner.

“Sur-ren-der! Sur-ren-der!” he begged us in broken Equish, holding open his taloned forehooves to show he was disarmed, his large eyes watering and visibly pained; his facefeathers scorched with a couple glowing sparks in them.

’Tis difficult to explain how I felt at that moment. Fear, fury, and elation all at once… and perchance even a moment of bloodlust as I realized I’d slain an enemy warrior—my first. Part of me recoiled, part of me wanted more. But for as much as was going through my head then, my sense of honor held firm—I could not slay a surrendering soldier. Methinks it did not, however, preclude me from knocking him cold. He crumpled nicely from my blow to his head, and methinks our minor success did wonders for my confidence… at least until I saw the blood on me and it truly sunk in that I had killed.

For a few seconds, I stared at the gryphon corpse I had created. I felt faint, I trembled… and then I mentally stuffed it as far down into my soul as I could, knowing there was no time for it. I would ponder what it all meant later… if there even was a later to be had.

I reflected at that point how lucky I was to NOT be trapped in a situation that called for further combat following my own first kill, given I fainted immediately, and told him as much. His reply was that ’twas certain to him I would have risen to the occasion, as he did… and had the situation then allowed it, he would have likely fallen to pieces as well. I had my doubts ’twas true, but did not voice them and let him continue his story.

My squad was likewise shocked at their actions, looking alternately numb and horrified, but soldierly and motherly instincts quickly asserted themselves as Cardinal scooped up the foal and comforted it, my rear flight likewise lending aid and comfort to her mother, quickly reuniting her with her daughter. Unfortunately, ’twas little time for such things, and ’twas also time for me to act the squad leader I was supposed to.

“2nd flight, escort these two townsponies back through the tunnel into the base… and take this trash with you as well,” I said, shoving the unconscious gryphon towards them. “Manacle him and then be certain to seal the tunnel gate behind you. 1st and 3rd flights, remain with me,” I added, stamping out a couple glowing embers around the slowly fading flare; its smoke partially filling the room and making my eyes water. In hindsight, methinks it helped us as this group’s comrades probably thought they’d set another fire and thus didn’t come to investigate.

“Aye-aye, sir…” Private Lightning, my acting 2nd flight leader, said unhappily. “And what will you do? How will you get back? Methinks you should not be risking yourself, sir…” she offered cautiously on behalf of the rest.

I glared her silent, indicating to all that my status as a stallion did NOT mean I was going to let them coddle or protect me. I’d had a shaky start, but by Celestia, I was a soldier and was going to play the part of one! “Our orders are to take at least one more prisoner,” I reminded them all. “And methinks we’re going to whittle down their numbers a bit in the process…”

Windshear turned to stare out his office window for a minute. I wasn’t sure what was going through his head at that point, but given his distant expression, ’twas clear whatever came next ’twas unpleasant to remember.

Trial by Fire

I calculated my odds carefully. There were still sixty-plus gryphons outside, and now only seven of us. As I chanced glances out the broken window through the smoky air, looking for likely targets, I reflected that the Spear Sergeant was right—for this to work, we had to keep moving and keep our quarters close; if we got pinned down or lingered too long in open air, we had no chance. For this to work, we had to find another small group of gryphons to ambush, kill all but one, and then I would carry him on my back in a mad dash for the base whilst the rest of the squad ran interference for me.

’Twas undoubtedly dangerous, and not just to myself; I did not even wish to think that one of the mares I was increasingly coming to love could be cut down here. But at the same time, there were no others I trusted or wanted at my side more than them, and I issued a silent prayer to the Sun itself that we would all yet find a way through this.

Unfortunately, methinks the gods of fighting are fickle. They have their own purposes, and finding a suitable group to attack with nothing more than a window view was a tall order. In the end, we got lucky, if that’s the word for it, as another small group of raiders broke into a house across the street as we watched. I counted seven this time, many already laden with purloined prizes they’d piled into packs and chests strapped to their backs; I even saw one wearing a string of gems around his neck. I remember marveling slightly to see so many males among their ranks, envying them for their lack of gender disparity—and wondering how mates and mating even worked in gryphon society.

Odd things go through your head at a time like that, but sociological studies would keep for another time. ’Twas clear they couldn’t carry much more, meaning they were going to be leaving the town soon and attempting to escape back across the border. Worse, at this point they might be looking for hostages more than valuables, so ’twas certain we couldn’t tarry. We had our targets, and as we heard fresh yells across the street and even the breaking of furniture, I knew time was short. “Blades up!” I told my squad, my voice tense and jaw tight. “3rd flight, go through the upstairs windows and clear from high to low. Make plenty of noise as you enter to pull their attention on you! 1st flight, once they’re distracted, we’re going in the ground floor and clearing low to high. Hit hard and hit fast, but watch each other’s backs and be sure to leave one alive!” I reminded them.

I waited for a chorus of quiet “Aye-ayes,” then nodded. “3rd flight! Go!” I ordered, and the three remaining members shot across the street, lowered their heads to present their helmets and smashed loudly through the upper windows, gaining the immediate attention, I hoped, of the gryphons inside. I waited to hear some startled squawks, imagined heads turning up or towards the stairwell, then lowered myself into a crouch for a combat takeoff, signaling my flight to do the same. “On me, fillies! We’re going in!” I announced, and, likewise lowering my head, we sprung into the air and covered the distance across the street in less than a second, smashing through the bottom windows in a hail of glass.

Methinks ’twas morbidly fascinating to watch Windshear as he told this story; to see his expressions and tone of voice change as he continued; his mind clearly replaying not just the events but all the myriad emotions he experienced during it.

Once I got inside and my head back up, I saw it had worked perfectly. They had turned away to face the new threat with crossbows pointed at the stairwell and ceiling, leaving the five gryphons I saw wide open to ambush. I wondered somewhat frantically where the other two were, but got my answer quickly as I heard a pair of swiftly silenced shrieks upstairs punctuated by Lightning’s shouted order to get back on her wing. The ground floor gryphons tried frantically to bring their weapons back around to bear on us, but for the closest… ’twas already too late.

We cut down three in bare moments, and the remaining two could not fire their crossbows without hitting their comrades… so they discarded them and took an older stallion they’d beaten unconscious hostage, holding a blade to his throat, giving all my mares pause, backing against a wall and shouting at us in Aeric. Methinks I did not know the language, but their threat was plain enough, and they’d certainly known enough about ponies to realize that threatening a stallion, even an old one, was a way to freeze us.

Or freeze my mares, anyway. Not me. There were two of them, both younger raiders, and they had only one hostage between them. So remembering Ironsides’ words that they swore an oath of allegiance to each other, I simply went after the hostage-less eagless—she couldn’t have been more than a teen and was very frightened—and, batting her blade aside, I threw her hard against a wall, pinning her in place with a hoof and putting my bladed wing to her throat. “Tell him to surrender or I’ll kill her!” I instructed Private Kingfisher, who I knew spoke Aeric—’twas the reason I’d kept her flight with me instead of 2nd. I couldn’t believe I was resorting to such dishonorable tactics myself, but I was getting a very quick education as to how little honor meant in an actual fight… though on that point, the worst was yet to come.

He paused to glance at the citation accompanying his Wing Warrior badge on the right wall, which, I had not noticed before, also indicated awards for the Seal of Sacrifice and Sapphire Sun from the same action. Near as I could tell, he hadn’t done anything to earn them yet, so ’twould seem that part of the story was yet untold.

Though unhappy, Kingfisher obeyed, and to my satisfaction, my threat seemed to give the tiercel pause. He was older than the whimpering, shaking teen, but still looked barely adult from what little I could tell; I couldn’t help but wonder then what experiences had shaped him to bring him to that point.

A quick exchange followed. “He says you’re bluffing!” Kingfisher told me, to which I pressed my blade into my captive’s neck enough to draw blood, causing her to scream something at him through panicked sobs. His eyes darting wildly, he spoke again. “He wants to know if you swear to spare him and his sister?”

“I do,” I nodded, surprised to hear they were related, and once my words were translated, the tiercel dropped his hostage and his blade, putting his taloned forehooves, palms out.

“He gives up,” Kingfisher said needlessly as I likewise released the eagless. She slumped, shaking to the ground, a puddle forming beneath her hind hooves as my flight moved up to manacle them and I considered next how to get these two and the stallion back to base. Being younger, ’twas certain the eagless and tiercel were small enough that the mares could carry them, but I would have to carry the unconscious stallion, leaving only four of us able to fight. So mayhap ’twould be best to just leave the tiercel here and…

He suddenly stopped speaking as his jaw clenched and his mug began to shake in his grasp.

There was suddenly a blinding flash and scream. I couldn’t see anything, but I recognized the scream’s source as Private Kingfisher and dimly realized a flash gem had gone off. By the time my vision cleared, both our prisoners were gone, having flown the proverbial coop, and…

He then raised his eyes to mine, letting me see the rage and pain in them.

And Private Kingfisher was dying, her throat slashed by the tiercel’s backup blade! He had killed her! I had offered him honor, and he had taken advantage of it! I had given him my word, and accepted his, only to… only to…

He brought both his hooves down hard on his desk, causing his mug to tip over. Fortunately, there wasn’t much left in it. He paused to gather himself again, apologizing and quickly wiping down the table—’twouldn’t do for recruits to see his desk messy or him in such a state, after all. It certainly gave me great pause, and I reflected then that this was where his story he told me in our first duel had come from when he had mocked me for expecting honor to ever be offered in battle.

To this day, I cannot ever remember feeling so enraged as I saw the stricken body of my comrade lying there with her flightmates frantically calling to her, her lifeblood leaving her as my flight looked on in horror. I saw her eyes turned towards mine as her comrades tried futilely to stem the bleeding, only to see the light fade from them.

She was gone, and so was her killer.

Her murderer…

“Leave her!” I shouted, finally regaining my senses, trying to blink away the remaining spots in my vision, uncertain how much of the wetness was due to the flash or my emotions. “We can’t save her! All we can do now is avenge her, and we can’t do that dead!”

“But sir…” I don’t remember who spoke, and regardless, methinks I wasn’t having any of it.

“We can’t stay here or they’ll come after us for killing their comrades and wipe us out! With or without prisoners, we have to get back to base!” I reminded them. I didn’t want to leave a fallen comrade or the older stallion behind any more than they did, but I had at least enough cognizance at that point to recognize that there would be even more fallen comrades if we lingered or tried to take her body or the stallion’s dead weight with us.

Methinks my words seemed to snap them back to their senses. Though several were still crying, they formed up and, with one last lingering glance at Kingfisher, we took off.

’Twould seem we had already waited too long. We had barely made it outside before I spotted a score of gryphons descending upon us from the sky, having been summoned by the escaped pair. I didn’t see them, and in hindsight, methinks ’tis just as well. ’Tis uncertain I could have restrained myself from going after them even if it got me killed.

“On me and keep low!” I ordered, leading my squad through alleyways towards the base through a growing hail of crossbow bolts, though the Spear Sergeant was right again that the close quarters worked to our advantage, neutralizing their ranged weaponry except for extremely narrow and lucky shots. By air, the base was only ten or twelve seconds away as the crow flies, but we were taking a zigzag route there and those seconds passed interminably slowly, with each moment in the air another in which a blade or bolt could find their mark. We were undoubtedly faster than the gryphons, but that didn’t mean a few weren’t already ahead of us as a group of eight appeared to block our way with a living wall at the base perimeter, hovering in the air with blades drawn.

I swore violently, but realized instantly if we tried to scatter or go around, that would mean more time in the open air around the base and it became far more likely we’d be picked off one by one. So the only choice was… “Full attack speed! Cut right through them!” I ordered, lowering my head as my remaining squad of six spread out to engage eight raiders. Something plucked at my hip but I barely felt it, charged with adrenaline and anger as I was.

He looked down at his hip at that moment, where his scar was located.

The next few moments are a blur; it all happened so fast. I remember angry yells, gryphon shrieks, clashing blades and blood spatters. And suddenly we were past them with our formation intact. I thought all was well, with another four kills to our collective name…

That was, until Cardinal suddenly keeled over and nose-dived into the ground, a scimitar blade impaled in her chest, a parting gift from the gryphon she’d likewise slain.

“Sister!” Oriole and Bluejay called back, their flight faltering enough that I had to reach back and grab them.

“NO!” I shouted, ignoring the agonized scream in my own soul at the loss of my flightmare and lover, sorrow and white-hot rage present again in equal measure. “You can’t save her! GO!” I all but threw them towards the base bunker as two more gryphons charged in to meet us but in my sorrow and rage I took them on myself, killing one and capturing the other, slashing the first one’s throat and then grabbing the other by the scruff as I passed and slamming her headfirst through a barricaded bunker window, using her body as a battering ram to break through.

The pair of us ended up on the floor in a pile of glass and wood shards, the impact knocking her out and leaving me with an assortment of cuts and bruises around the light flight armor I wore. I didn’t yet realize I had a far greater problem at that point as the remains of my squad arrived hard on my wingbeats, entering through the broken window at full speed and crashing hard to the ground around us, skidding to a stop against whatever surface was available.

There were a series of startled pony yells followed by rapid hooffalls. “Corporal…?” I heard Ironsides call out, opening my eyes and shaking off the impact to see him standing over me, staring at me agape. I can only imagine the state I looked at that point, my flight uniform torn and covered as I was in splinters, blood and dust.

A fresh fury taking hold of me, I hauled myself to my hooves and saluted. “Two prisoners… as ordered, sir!” I spat at him, throwing the unconscious eagless I’d just captured at him and not understanding why I was having trouble standing and walking, my right hind leg not working properly. “And we slew at least twelve, taking two dead of our own! Still think we don’t carry our weight… sir?” I asked him bitterly through flared wings and welling tears, suddenly feeling lightheaded but at that moment only attributing it to the chase and close call… to say nothing of the lost lives of my squadmares I was only then starting to truly feel.

In response, he stared at me agape for a few seconds, his eyes flickering from my face to my hindquarters repeatedly. He then returned the salute, his expression one of disbelief and admiration. “Well done, Corporal. We’ll take it from here. Methinks you’d best see to yourself now…” he pointed in a strangely hesitant manner behind me.

“Myself…?” I stared blankly at him, then followed his hoof to see…

A crossbow bolt embedded deep in my right hip, blood from the wound streaming down my leg.

“But… that…” ’Twas only then the pain of it hit me. I went dizzy and nauseous and suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Shock catching up to me and the adrenaline rush wearing off, I fell hard to the floor. Methinks the last thing I heard before I passed out was Ironsides calling for a healer and Oriole and Bluejay frantically calling my name.

He turned brooding and downed his remaining tea in one gulp.’Twas nearly a minute before he spoke again.

...As a Battle Won

I don’t know what happened after that, as I spent the rest of the battle unconscious. I didn’t wake up until the next morning in the Army Infirmary, overloaded with casualties though it was. I was later told that Ironsides’ plan had worked—that instead of escaping, the raider group had stayed and tried to storm the base to rescue their comrades and avenge their losses, but the Army and Trottingham militia along with my surviving squadmares held them off long enough for the reinforcing platoon from Delta to arrive. They descended and routed the remaining raiders with heavy losses, but to me, ’twas a pyrrhic victory at best…

It took him twenty minutes to recount the whole story and by the end of it, my hoof was at my mouth. As bad as my introduction to the gryphons and fighting had been, ’twas clear the Sergeant Major’s was even worse.

“And so that was it. The battle was won, and that young colt ’twas decorated for his actions, but it mattered little to him. Two of his squadmates died that day, including a lover, and part of him died with them. That’s when he realized ’twasn’t a game. That’s when he knew what he was up against, that honor meant precious little in an actual battle, that he wasn’t invincible… and neither were his friends. That to be a warrior meant death and killing… and forever sacrificing part of your own soul.” He looked down for a moment. “Just like you, he questioned himself and his own actions constantly afterwards, even considered quitting. But in the end… he did not. In the end he came to terms with it and emerged a warrior.”

“And how did he come to terms with it?” I had to know.

At the time, ’twas indeed best, and methinks I will let that new friend finish this story.

Greetings Captain, and all readers of this tale. I am Ironsides, friend of Windshear and later Captain of the Royal Guard. I met the future Sergeant Major under circumstances neither of us would have wished, but we forged a bond then that endured throughout the years we served together. At first that was in Trottingham pubs, as he visited me frequently after the battle whenever he could get leave, wanting male company and to commiserate over our shared losses. Later, ’twas through our time in the Guard as first I joined and later he did, eventually ending up training new Guardsponies together. I did not know him before that first raid, but ’twas certain I could see how he had changed afterwards.

I wish it said now that he was a fine stallion and soldier, the finest I have ever known. He once told me the essence of a warrior was one willing to put others before himself, and ’tis certain he lived by that credo… and later died by it.

And yet, of all the time together we spent, ’tis our second meeting that sticks out most in my mind. The raid on Trottingham was his first action, but my second, as I’d seen combat months earlier at Outpost Red. When I next saw him a week later, convalescing and on leave after the loss of his squadmates, he was full of doubt and sorrow, second-guessing everything he did… much like ’twould seem was the case with you. So I took him to my favorite pub, shoved a pint or three into his hooves, letting him drink and talk until he’d said what he needed to say. At the end, he finally asked me why we fought and what his mares died for, and ’twas only then I spoke.

My answer was to simply look around him. That a grandsire, mother and foal still lived because of him and his squad. That this town still stood and thrived in part because of them. That their efforts resulted in the crippling of the Lythos group and whatever was left of them would not threaten this town or any other again, thus saving more lives in the future. That indeed, this once-isolated earth pony colony had only survived as long as it did because others had been willing to fight and die for it as his mares had. But he was unconvinced. ’Twas only when he stated mayhap that he should have died with his squadmares that I told him the stark truth, though in far blunter terms than this:

That war is not about dying for your country. It’s about living for yours whilst making someone else die for theirs. It may sound harsh, but ultimately, the lives and deaths of soldiers have only what meaning we give them, so ’twas up to him to decide who and what he fought for—a lesson ’twould seem he then passed on to you. Methinks ’twas the reason he eventually herded with Oriole and Bluejay; that he—and they—wanted to honor their lost sister’s sacrifice by formalizing the bonds they’d made, promising to keep and love each other forever just as they’d loved Cardinal.

But methinks that Windshear didn’t just take my advice. In the end, he lived it. He always put others first, fighting for his friends and his family, his princess and his nation. In the end, he performed heroically and became a hero for it right when Equestria needed one most; an inspiration and rallying cry that would echo through the Guard and throughout Equestria in the many battles to come… and even the decades since.

In truth, methinks I sometimes wonder what he would have thought of how he was lionized afterwards; of all the songs, all the stories, of the statue erected in his honor at Fort Spur. ’Twas only at my insistence, after all, that he kept his Defender of Harmony award and Red Talon trophies on display in his office, not wishing to draw attention to himself. He believed the actions that won them were simply him doing his duty and defending that which he held dear. But I do know what he would have thought of you, Captain, who he once confided in me he saw as his beloved if slightly-wayward daughter:

He would have said you’d done him proud and that the only honor he would wish you to give him would be to go to his favorite pub and raise a mug in toast to him in the presence of his old comrades. So to that end, I invite you to come here to Trottingham and do just that. Be warned, however, that for all the stories they’ve heard, my many grandfoals will likely wish to meet you.

Signed,

Captain Ironsides (ret.)
Trottingham

Thank you, Captain Ironsides. As I also owe Swift Strike a visit there as well, I believe I will take you up on that offer sooner rather than later. I also thank you indulging me with this letter, as I know you prefer the solitude of your retirement and the simple joys of being a grandsire after all the war you saw and fought. ’Tis worth noting that you, too, became an inspiration and symbol, and for your role in the war to come, ’tis no doubt he would have said that you deserved honor far more than he.

As I complete this interlude chapter, I find myself reflective, remembering the stallion who became my first-ever father figure, who gave me some very tough love but to whom I and all Equestria owe so much. He told me once he wanted to make sure I would be ready for anything and could meet any challenge given me, and in the end, he succeeded. Not so much that he taught me everything I would later need, but he forged me into a superb soldier and showed me by example what it took to be one, making me nearly invincible in the air and unbeatable even then to all but the best opponents.

Methinks the skills I added later—close-quarters combat, knife-fighting, weather-wielding, etc.—were only possible because he gave me the foundation for them, both physically and mentally, and for it I do consider him my mentor to this day. Perchance ’tis appropriate that this chapter is written just as his grandson now enters the guard, determined to live up to his grandsire’s name. ’Tis a tall order to be sure, but ’tis certain he is up to the trials and I look forward to seeing him in his armor.

Know now that the following (and final) chapter of this tome will tell a second story of Windshear, a far more familiar one to most ponies, but this time told from a vantage point that has not been heard before. ’Twill be time for my former second to take up the quill pen again, for she was present for that fight, and ’tis a story she is only too eager to tell!

Indeed I am, Captain! I only hope I can do it—and him—justice… —Fell Flight

Author's Note

Welcome back to the story, folks! Sorry it took so long, but for a change, this particular chapter just would not come easily for the longest time. It was actually a story I wanted to tell for a while, I just couldn’t find the right place to do so. Windshear, as should now be clear, wasn’t a born badass any more than Firefly was, despite what he initially believed, and had his own bitter lessons as to the nature of warriors and fighting. If you want to know he was so hard on her originally, it was in part he didn’t want her as unready for what awaited her as how he remembers himself being. His fate is only hinted at here, but I will say again that there is reason I’m telling this story now and not later. Hope you liked!

Thanks as always go to my great prereading crew of Executive Officer Leo Archon, Head Commissar AJ_Aficionado, Adjudant SilentwoodFire, Military Observer TheGoldCrow and Public Relations Officer Denim_Blue for all their efforts and comments they leave on the parent doc. It’s always fun to read through them and see the back-and-forth banter over various lines and scenes, as well as receive their suggestions. Some of the best lines and sequences these chapters have had came from such suggestions, or even just joking asides in the comments. They’re what make this all worth it, particularly when it’s initially a struggle to get a chapter written.

For those in the USA, Happy Memorial Day! An appropriate chapter for it, I think... so as you enjoy your cookouts and holiday, be sure and spare a moment of reflection for those who gave their lives for the freedoms we now enjoy.

Interlude #5, Part 2: Defender of Harmony

Dear readers:

With this volume’s conclusion comes the time to tell the tale of Windshear’s greatest claim to fame.

As my Captain said in the last chapter, I was present for the action in question, and ’tis certain I will remember it for the rest of my days. The fact that I need not the aid of a unicorn memory recall spell to keep track of the details is indicative enough of the impact it had on me. As such, I will be telling the story from my own perspective.

’Tis a great shame and sorrow that Windshear himself could not write this, but he was never one to boast or brag. Then again, ’tis certain he did not need to. His feats are legend, and through them he bequeaths to all Equestria a legacy that will echo down through the ages. His death only gives truth to an old statement I once read from the lost Princess Luna: “For ’tis only through the lens of history that we achieve immortality. ’Tis but in passing we become legend, a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all.”

Windshear certainly proved this adage, for the tales of his deeds have only grown more mythical long after his ascension to the Summerlands.

Though methinks he did not have as large an impact on my life as Thunderbolt, he was a beloved comrade and commander all the same. ’Tis my hope that I will continue to live up to his always-high expectations; to the examples of duty and honor he set.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight (Ret.)
Thestral High Emissary
Thestral Conclave, Canterlot

Before telling of the moment itself, I must explain how it came about. It had been two years since my action against the Indala raider group. With Squall Line and those in his camp no longer holding me back, I was rising steadily through the ranks of the Corps, earning respect and accolades at a very rapid rate. At the time in question, I had just made Flight Sergeant, and was named one of our six platoon leaders after aiding in the defeat of a raid on the settlement of Peachtrees, one of three earth pony colonies that Outpost Omega was responsible for protecting.

Then-Sky Sergeant Windshear had been reassigned to Omega after Squall Line’s resignation from the Corps. Under his leadership, we met any and all raider incursions with swift and lethal retribution, oft with him at the forefront.

Despite his superb strength and skill—he once told me that the losses he suffered in his first action had driven him to become the best warrior he could be so he might better protect others—he was not responsible for all the defeats the raiders suffered during this period; I had led several raid responses myself and amassed an impressive killcount for it. ’Twas in fact shortly before this incident began that I found—and subsequently framed on my office wall—the Gryphon missive that bore the message: ‘Beware the cat-eyed mare who sees and slays all!’ ’Tis a point of honor for me to this day that the gryphons learned to respect and fear me in such a short time.

With so many raids thwarted and raiders dead at our hooves, ’twas understandable that we at Omega had become complacent, perchance even arrogant. Since Windshear’s arrival, we’d yet to suffer any truly grievous casualties, and the settlements had lost no civilians to the raiders. All this would change one warm spring day when a very large raider force descended on the settlement of Cloverfield, led by a very noticeable figure at the vanguard…

A figure whose presence suggested that the attack was more than simply another raider action, but an act of open war.

Incursion

’Twas just after dawn when the alarms sounded at Omega, jolting me out of my sleep.

I had just gone to bed, ending my shift as nighttime watch officer; a post I had volunteered for as it suited my nocturnal preferences well. Once he had been satisfied with my performance, Windshear had granted it quickly, and it then fell to me to direct patrols and the first response to raids in his absence. Such responses typically included me at the vanguard, as my eyes proved an excellent asset at night, turning the gryphons’ greatest advantage against them as I could see in the dark at ranges far exceeding even theirs.

But now they were attacking in broad daylight? To what end, I wondered as I groggily pulled myself up and made for the armory, splashing some water on my face before we got a hasty briefing in the ready room.

’Twas certain the news was not good. A major raid was underway; two of our patrol flights had been taken out and now the colony of Cloverfield was under heavy attack by an alliance of three raider groups, numbering well over two hundred irregular fighters. That they were working together was incredible enough—the different groups typically hated each other as much as they did us, seeing each other as competitors and oft even blood rivals.

But something—or someone—had now united them, and the outnumbered Army company at Cloverfield had gone silent after screaming for help, saying something about being wiped out by an unstoppable force before their communications had gone silent… only to be replaced a minute later by an ominous, mocking tiercel voice telling us in accented Equish that the town was now his and challenging ’The Omega Captain’ to come meet him with his entire force… if he dared.

’Twas an assault as brazen as ’twas brutal, and for the numbers involved would require nearly the entire Omega battalion to counter. Fortunately, we were not without additional resources of our own—a squad from Black Lance Team Two was present at the base, intending to cross the border to spy on a raider summit the EIS claimed would be taking place a few days later. ’Twould seem their information was incorrect, however, as the fact that the three groups were now cooperating indicated they’d already had their meeting and settled their differences, deciding to take vengeance for their losses as one.

Facing two centuries of foes, our work was cut out for us, but ’twas certain we were up to the task. We waited until the entire garrison was assembled and Windshear had spoken privately about tactics with the Lances before taking flight, the Sky Sergeant dispatching two entire companies to the town’s defense whilst leaving our third behind under the command of his second, SFC Gust Front, in case more raids were coming. The Lance squad, whose commander I did not know the name or face of, left in their black bodysuits in a different direction, intending, I thought, to reconnoiter the area and if possible get close enough to slay the raider leaders. I commanded a platoon, and ’twas a mark of Windshear’s growing trust in me that he gave me the lead.

Once in flight, it took but five minutes to arrive and we found a horrific scene. The panicked voice we’d heard from the Cloverfield garrison had not been lying—the base was a smoldering ruin, dead Army troops were lying everywhere and worse, their assailants were now holding hostages both in the air and on the ground, blades held to the throats of civilians and captured soldiers alike, daring us to attack. And at their vanguard…

“Why hello, bat-pony!” a hated voice called out to me in Equish as our groups hovered fifty feet apart, the raiders making clear that any closer would result in hostage deaths and crossbow fire. “’Twould seem the advantage is ours, this time!”

“Mistress Lysandre,” I hissed out through bared teeth as I recognized the Earth Gryphon eagless. Among other things, her Kalos raider group had absorbed the survivors of the Indala group and if possible, she was even more ruthless than he was… and worse, she was smarter. She’d put a substantial bounty on my head that at least two dozen gryphons had already died at my blades attempting to claim—all belonging to rival groups or upstart underlings; the EIS reported she’d used me as a means to cull her competition. “Methinks I’ll take your head for this, you heartless hen!” I promised her in Aeric, to which she just laughed.

“Sorry, bat-pony, but this time, ’tis your head that will roll. But that pleasure will come later. Right now, we are not so interested in you as your coward of a commander. So where is Windshear?” she demanded to know in Equish, one of her underlings holding a blade to a crying filly for emphasis. “Show yourself, you wretched stallion, or she dies!”she shouted into a blue gem she must have stolen from the Army base, her voice booming through the air.

“Enough,” Windshear spoke from behind me, breaking formation to fly to the forefront, bravely hovering before the dozens of crossbows trained on him. “What is the meaning of this attack, Mistress?” he demanded to know, to mocking gryphon laughter that made my jaw clench. Was this but a jest to them?

“The meaning, my dear Sky Sergeant, is revenge! Retribution for two years of defeats and humiliation. It all ends here. We will take both your force and your reputation from you, along with your life!” she promised gleefully.

Methinks I did not know why she was so confident. She’d always been one to use feints and subterfuge instead of attacking directly, and yet… here she now was, risking her death and the destruction of her entire group. Why?

“Do you truly believe that even if you survive this day, you will not face justice?” Windshear asked her, his voice dripping with contempt. “Do you think that even if your grandest designs come to pass, if somehow Omega and my entire force falls, that we will not be avenged? That the Equestrian Armed Forces will not hunt you down to the last fighter even in your own territory?” he asked not just her but them all; yet for some inexplicable reason, they never lost their smirks. “Methinks you have failed to learn the lesson of the Lucavi, Mistress. With this attack, you have sealed your fate!”

“And methinks you know not yet the fate you face, Commander,” she told him in a manner I could only describe as smug. “But perchance our leader will enlighten you…” she looked down as a new figure took flight from the ground, and suddenly much became clear.

Heartless

’Twas a large earth gryphon, dyed head-to-toe black except for symmetric red stripes along his flanks and wings. His armor was gleaming onyx, and he wielded twin heavy swords, easily double the size of typical Talon scimitars. He was massive and his entire appearance incredibly intimidating, as was the fact that he was effortlessly holding an unconscious Equestrian Army earth pony officer in his grasp. We quickly recognized her as Major Enfilade, commander of the Cloverfield garrison, now stripped of her armor and weapons, bleeding from multiple blade and arrow wounds. And the one who had defeated her and her entire company now hovered before us, wearing not just the garb of an elite warrior, but a look of unbridled glee and outright bloodlust…

A Red Talon! We had heard about them, of course, even seen them at parleys, and their reputation was said to be well-earned. But though their exploits in the Gryphon War against the Elder Rams were legend, they had never been seen to engage in combat with ponies, and certainly not on behalf of three raider groups!

“Greetings, Sky Sergeant,” he called to Windshear in only moderately accented Equish, holding a bloodstained blade in one set of talons and Enfilade by the withers in the other, his claws dug into the sides of her neck as he gave his counterpart a mocking salute with his sword. “I would say this is a pleasure, but in truth, you disappoint me. I was expecting a more rapid response than this. Instead, you forced me to amuse myself by slaughtering all these so-called soldiers like swine,” he told us all, glancing down at the carnage below, the remains of an entire Equestrian Army company he’d single-hoofedly decimated; at least a platoon of earth pony and unicorn soldiers alike lying dead on the ground beneath us.

If Windshear was perturbed, he hid it well. “So you are responsible for this, Talaeus?” he asked, using the gryphon word for them. “As a soldier in service to the Empire, your presence here makes this attack an act of war!”

“I sincerely hope so,” he smirked, his blue eyes glittering against the black backdrop of his face. “For I would hate to be sent home without having been able to fight in one. ’Tis certain that war between our races is inevitable, pegasus. So, I’m simply speeding it up to ensure my own participation,” he said without a hint of remorse or doubt, and for the first time, I felt my guts clench, wondering what kind of monster we were up against.

’Twas a testament to how unsettled he was that I noticed the flash pass through Windshear’s eyes. “And who are you that wouldst so casually desire war?”

“Ah, my apologies. How impolite of me! ’Tis true I’ve yet to introduce myself…” The tiercel gave a short, mocking bow, his claws never losing their grip on the Major’s neck. “Greetings, forces of Outpost Omega. I am First Spear Miyal Calea of the Talaeus, or Red Talons as you call us. As for why I am here in particular?” He shrugged, then glared. “’Tis a personal matter to me, Commander. I’ve been… shall we say, sponsoring these three groups of raiders, offering them training and weapons, as well as convincing the Office of Owls to fund their efforts to harass Omega and destabilize the border.

“’Twas my hope that if their raids inflicted enough death and damage, ’twould be enough to bring about war… or at least teach you ponies a badly-needed lesson in humility.” His eyes narrowed. “Unfortunately, for all my efforts, you and your soldiers always stood poised to thwart them, time and again. But I suppose the old adage is true: if you wish something done right, you must do it yourself. So I will simply slay you as I did your Army companions, and then lay waste to this village as well!” He licked the blood off his blade for emphasis, causing all of us to recoil.

“Are you quite through?” Windshear asked contemptuously, growing more disgusted the more he heard.

“’Tis impolite to interrupt a guest, commander. Particularly one who has been rehearsing his speech for weeks!” he all but sneered. “For two years, you have thwarted my charges; for two years you have humiliated them, turning them against one another. And as their trainer and patron, the dishonor of their defeats… falls on me!” He brandished his oversized sword again, pointing it at Windshear. “No longer will I allow this, or wait for war to come! No longer will you and your soldiers be a stain on my honor, for I shall slay you and them here and now! And when war results, I shall be at the vanguard where I belong, leading our legions and crushing your feeble forces! Such will be my redemption… in your defeat!” He announced to raucous cheers.

“You’re insane…” I hissed, to which he turned to me.

“Two words for an ambition that will never be understood by lesser leaf-eaters like yourself!” he all but sneered out the words. “But by all means, bat-pony—challenge me! As ’twould seem you are a meat-eater like us and one of Omega’s finest soldiers, I will accord you some honor and grant you the chance to defeat me in single combat,” he invited. “These earth ponies and unicorns were no match for me, but I hunger for pegasus blood above all. I know not how a thestral halfling will taste, but I look forward to finding out! Myself and my mistresses will toast your defeat with your bat-pony blood and eat well off your well-cooked corpse!” He grinned, goading me further.

I lowered my head and pinned him with my predatory eyes. “’Twould be my greatest pleasure to geld you, you mass-murdering monster!” Seeing red, I immediately flew forward, only to be quickly blocked by Windshear.

“Stay back, Flight Sergeant,” he told me through gritted teeth. “Check your temper and see to our forces. I leave you in command,” he told me to my surprise, tossing me his red command gem. “When the time comes, lead the attack to wipe out this raider trash. I know you can. Until then, nopony challenges him but me.”

We all stared at him in shock as Calea gave a very pleased look. “But sir…!” I protested, having no idea what time he was referring to or what our absent Lance allies were planning. And what could but a squad of them do anyway? “You should not be…”

He knew I was trying to say that a stallion shouldn’t be risking himself like this, and cut me off hard. “I said stay back!” he all but snarled at me, his own emotions looking barely under control as he turned to face the Talaeus warrior. “You violate the border, take innocents hostage, slaughter the soldiers that defended them, and advocate open war all whilst speaking to us of honor?” Methinks I had never seen Windshear so angry. “You are an abomination, Talaeus, even by the standards of your own side!”

“Abomination, you say?” He all but cackled. “Methinks the true abomination is that you and your kind hold dominion over the very skies! That we suffer your presence and continue to wait for war! That in doing so we offer your plant-eating ilk even a pretense of respect or honor! That I am being recalled for the simple crime of advocating an immediate invasion!” His eyes went angry for a moment before he smiled again. “But I care not, for after this, it won’t matter! When I kill you and take your base, war will result and I will become the most famous warrior in the Empire! I will lead our glorious campaign to the very steps of Canterlot Castle, where I will slay your precious princess myself!” he announced, causing shouts of outrage from the mares I now led.

For his part, Windshear just sneered. “If you think any of that will come to pass, then you truly are a foal! You think this is a game?” Windshear’s ire was cold and real. “You think any of this will end well, Talaeus? Or are you so far gone you think being a warrior is about nothing but blood and conquest?” He flew forth to face him.

“Oh, by all means, educate me, my little pony. Tell me, what is being a warrior about?” the black-dyed gryphon invited in a manner suggesting he sought some amusement in the answer. “But do keep your explanation short. The sooner I slay you and your soldiers, the sooner I can return triumphant and relax whilst I wait for the war to begin. And methinks I’d hate for a hatchling friend of mine to miss another visit from me!”

’Twas only much later I knew what he referred to, but even then ’twas certain to me that he was anything but friend to said hatchling.

No doubt the same thoughts were going through Windshear’s mind at that moment. “Very well, Talaeus. I’ll humor you. First and foremost, ’tis not about oneself!” the Sky Sergeant began after a brief pause; I realized only later he was playing for time to allow the Lances to put whatever plan he’d made with them into motion. “’Tis not about death or glory but about putting other lives above your own. ’Tis about service. ’Tis about duty. ’Tis about the honor that can only come from fighting for others and being willing to sacrifice oneself for them!” He told not just him, but us all, the rest of us taking strength from his words, ones he drummed into us over and over during the past two years. “’Tis about selflessness, not selfishness, which is all I see from you!” He pointed an accusing hoof at the black-and-red warrior.

“Weak words from a weak race,” Calea sneered as his raider allies laughed, their attention now fully on Windshear. “A warrior’s honor comes from the blood he has spilled. From the long list of kills he has made. For the battles he has won! For the glory he has gained! For the very praises sung in his name!” He proclaimed loudly as he ran Enfilade through with his sword for emphasis and then held her slain body to the sky as if in offering, basking in adulation as the raiders began chanting his name. “But perchance I expect too much from you and your worthless soldiers, Sky Sergeant. For what would a society of leaf-eaters know of such things?” He finished as he simply threw the Major’s body aside, letting it fall to the ground.

Discipline held as we witnessed the callous murder, but just barely; rage and bloodlust rising all around me. “You’re dead, Calea! I’ll rip your throat out with my fangs!” I shouted as I bared mine, showing slightly pointed teeth; strangely, the more meat I’d eaten over the years, the more carnivorous my incisors had become.

“Not bad, bat-pony. ’Tis a pity there are not more like you,” he smirked, giving me a half-salute. “With such fine teeth and intimidating eyes, methinks you wouldst almost make a good gryphon.”

“The only good gryphon is a dead one!” I immediately retaliated amid angry agreement from the two companies I now commanded, not knowing that I would one day regret those words. “By Celestia’s sun and the Mare in the Moon, we’ll kill all of you before this day is done!” I swore, to nods and shouts of agreement from my comrades.

“Stand down, Flight Sergeant,” Windshear ordered me again, leaving me amazed he could be so calm, his eyes fixed on the Talaeus before him, ignoring the raiders flanking him. “Stand down, all of you! I said it before, and I’ll say it again: The only one who faces him… is me.”

A Hero Will Rise

“Bold words, commander,” Calea smirked as a dozen more gryphons suddenly rose into the sky around him, wearing the garb of various raider groups with the curious addition of a black armband. “If you wish a challenge, I advise caution. A Talaeus is a living weapon, able to kill at will. ’Tis certain you have no more chance against me than those Army weaklings below. If you are to defeat me, ’twould be far better to attack me with your entire force. ‘Twill not avail you, of course, but at least then you may see what heights a warrior of my skill may attain!”

Windshear fell silent at that, closing his eyes for a moment as if in deep regret. “Methinks I’ve already known one living weapon,” he replied quietly in what I only realized much later was an oblique reference to Thunderbolt. His gaze then shifted, suddenly falling on the increased raider numbers, looking strangely satisfied for it. “And ’tis certain he would have slain you easily. I may take a bit longer, but be assured you are as dead as your underlings are,” he replied most matter-of-factly, then raised his voice. “Heed my words and heed them well! Once your airborne hostages are freed, my soldiers will attack! And I will personally ensure you cannot target them or rally your forces!” He seemed to be addressing not just Calea but all of us. “For the blood you have spilled and the lives you have taken… your head is mine, Talaeus!”

Calea’s eyes narrowed. Perchance he sensed some form of subterfuge at play, but at the moment none of us knew what—save for twelve armband-wearing gryphons now mixed amongst the airborne raider century, edging closer to the dozen hostages they held. “Freeing our captives will be a tall order, Sky Sergeant. Methinks you are engaging in some very wishful thinking,” the Talaeus smirked, perchance deciding Windshear was bluffing.

Windshear actually grinned as he pulled out his blue command gem. “And methinks you wouldst do well to remember the old adage to keep your friends close… and your enemies closer! Lances! NOW!” he shouted into the gem, and suddenly the dozen gryphons wearing black armbands turned blades and crossbows on their erstwhile comrades, targeting those who held hostages. Darts, bolts, and blades lashed out with blinding speed, spearing heads and slashing throats, killing nearly twenty raiders in just two seconds followed by swoops to grab the dropped ponies and deliver them to safety. Chaos and carnage immediately erupted in the raider ranks as suddenly they didn’t know who to trust, turning their weapons on each other.

’Twas only at that moment I realized that Windshear had been subtly giving the Lances orders, though I had no idea what magic was at play that allowed them to take the form of our enemies! “Omega! The black-armed birds are Black Lances! Spare them but slay the rest! ATTACK!”Windshear shouted into his blue gem, and we needed little encouragement after that, plunging immediately into the fight as Windshear charged a shocked Calea, taking advantage of his sudden distraction to strike, aiming a wingblade at his head.

With Windshear’s order, all Tartarus broke loose and the battle for Cloverfield began in earnest.

I swooped and slashed, shouting orders and leading my forces into the fray, using my two companies to crush the rapidly dwindling airborne century of raiders before sending all but a single platoon to the relief of the town and Army remnants below. Soldier for soldier the raiders were no match for our veteran warriors, for our training or teamwork, though that did not mean we took no casualties; nearly thirty would fall in the air above Cloverfield before all was said and done.

The Lances returned to the fray as soon as they’d gotten their rescued ponies to safety, and ’twas an odd feeling indeed finding myself fighting back to back with a gryphon, even if she was a transformed Black Lance—I do not know this for certain, but given her commanding manner, she might well have been your mother, Captain! She and her comrades were clearly familiar with their gryphon forms as they fought well with sword and talons, aiming their crossbows with uncanny accuracy and adding thrown blades into the mix. With their help, within minutes we had decimated the raider ranks, caught by surprise as they were. Few of the raiders actually spoke Equish so they didn’t understand Windshear’s warning about the black-marked raiders, giving us precious seconds to strike whist they tried to figure it out for themselves… or waited for those who did hear the warning to tell them.

And yet, the air battle that erupted was unimportant compared to the one raging below me, and one I only saw bits and pieces of to start. Though caught by surprise, Calea was the equal to Windshear’s initial attack, getting his heavy sword up in time to parry Windshear’s wingblade. Despite the fact he was an Earth Gryphon, he clearly knew how to fly and fight in the air, as he was giving a hard-pressed Windshear all he could deal with and more.

But Windshear was no desk officer and ’tis certain a stallion doesn’t rise to command a border outpost, especially one as dangerous as Omega unless he has proven himself repeatedly to be a very good leader and warrior. With nearly fifteen years of experience and countless engagements under his wings, he’d never been shy about mixing it up with raiders before, winning all his fights easily and the few times I’d sparred with him ended in my defeat—he was simply far too strong and swift for me; even more so than Thunderbolt had been, and I immensely admired him for it. But was even he good enough to take down a Red Talon…?

The answer would not be known immediately. The air battle was won relatively quickly, as it turned out, the remaining raiders retreating to the ground after losing more than half their force. They fell back on their other comrades in the town who were now hard-pressed by my pursuing soldiers, sandwiched between them and the ragged remains of the Army troops. Now fighting from cover and using townsponies and captured soldiers as living shields, the battle became far more difficult; so I ordered a halt to the attack until the contest between Windshear and Calea was decided, hoping the latter’s defeat might induce a surrender. ’Twas quite clear they were trying to hold out long enough for Calea to kill Windshear and then turn the tide of battle for them, and cowardly though it may have been, ’twas no doubt they had the right idea.

For although Windshear slaying Calea would secure our victory, Calea slaying Windshear threw it into severe doubt. As the fight wore on, the Talaeus was proving every bit the elite warrior he'd been bragging; ’twas only as I saw the battle unfold that I understood how good the Red Talon truly was and how fortunate I was to not have engaged him. His strength was horrific; his swords and armor deflected most of Windshear’s blows whilst he wielded his large blades with chilling ease, whipping them around with blinding speed that several times just missed Windshear’s body or head, wingblades and swords sparking with each new limb-jarring collision. ’Twas only the commander’s superior speed and increasingly damaged wingblades that saved him, but we could see that injuries were starting to accumulate on him by the red stains against his sky blue uniform. Worse, they’d already been fighting for nearly five minutes; how long could he keep it up before his stamina ran out?

The Power of Will

And yet, for all of Windshear’s wounds, the Talaeus was increasingly battered and bleeding too. I could see the glistening of his blood against the backdrop of his black fur and feathers, the growing number of chinks and cracks in his armor. Tellingly, he was no longer shouting insults but fighting with everything he had, stunned by the resistance he was encountering; strength and skill far beyond anything he thought a pegasus could possess.

’Twas agony being a bystander to that battle, but ’twas little we could do. The commander had ordered us not to help him, and as much as I hated to admit it, I wasn’t even sure we could. I knew as I watched with a platoon from fifty yards away that I couldn’t take his opponent; even wounded he was simply too good. Could even all of us together take him? Could the Lances…?

’Twas a question, to my great relief, we would never know the answer to as Windshear parried and knocked free one of his opponent’s swords, sending it spiraling to the ground, only to receive a curled fist to the stomach in a painful blow which lifted him up and quickly turned into talons raking his midsection right through his uniform. It staggered him for a moment and his opponent moved in for the kill, bringing his second sword down in an overhoof strike with both sets of talons.

Windshear just managed to get a wing up to block it, but the impact shattered his wingblade, pieces of it raining to the ground. Pressing his advantage, Calea made a wild and overconfident swing which Windshear had to roll hard to intercept with his other wing, allowing the strike to knock him earthward. He then dove hard for the deck, buying himself time to release and abandon the harness as the intact blade would unbalance him, causing my guts to clench as I realized he now intended to fight his armed and armored opponent with his hooves alone.

His weapons sacrificed in the final parry, he swooped back up and around, forcing Calea to twist to face him, dodging one more swing before racing in to tackle his opponent in midair. He pinned the Red Talon’s wings as they suddenly plunged towards the ground locked in an airborne grappling match, each trying to twist enough to make sure the other hit first. In the end, neither quite succeeded as they smashed through the damaged roof of a building as one; we didn’t know what was happening inside until there were a series of crashing sounds, dust and cracks appearing on the outside walls from inside impacts, and then the Talaeus was suddenly slammed headfirst through an intact second-floor window, thrown bodily down to the plaza below.

And yet, despite his bloodied face and clearly broken wing, despite having lost his second sword somewhere inside, Calea still didn’t give up, screaming he would not fall to a weakling pony as he went for his armor and pulled out throwing blades a split second before launching them at Windshear, who only managed to dodge one as he tackled him again, the second impaling his shoulder, disabling his wing.

With the fight far past the realm of technique or tactics, the battle between the pair had devolved into a simple contest of strength and will between the commander and his elite gryphon opponent. They pummeled each other with hooves and talons, brawling with abandon, the earth gryphon’s skill, strength and savagery matched by Windshear’s raw toughness, experience, and sheer determination. He took blow after blow but simply would not go down despite his lengthening list of wounds, the innumerable bruises, the talon slash marks on his face and belly or the knife blade still stuck in his side. He gave as good as he got, knocking off his opponent’s helmet with one solid hoofstriker hit and then stunning the Talaeus with a hard headbutt that staggered him—I’d experienced it myself once in a training spar and knew how much it hurt—following it up with an unblocked uppercut to the bottom of his beak.

Calea was now reeling, one of his eyes swollen shut and swinging increasingly wildly with his bare talons and final backup blade, screaming bloody murder as the battle turned on him. But Windshear countered with his own blade, a knife he’d received from another of his herdmates that previously belonged to the PSD, scoring hits on his opponent’s arm and face.

With our Red Talon foe now severely weakened, I was feeling far more confident about intervening, but one of the Lances-turned-Gryphons stopped me with talons grasping my foreleg; methinks ’twas all I could do not to slash at it! “’Tis his fight, Flight Sergeant,” she told me as her transformation lapsed and she returned to pony form before my eyes, quickly covering her head with a black hood—whatever magic they were using to become gryphons clearly didn’t last long! “Let him finish it.”

So we did. The Talaeus tried one final trick, resorting to explosive gems, but Windshear batted them aside with a gust of wind from his good wing, sending them flying off whilst he leapt for cover in the other direction. ’Twas not enough to keep him from taking fragments when they detonated, however, staggering him. Sensing weakness, the Red Talon leapt hard at him, shrieking and intending to strike the finishing blow with his blade whilst his opponent was vulnerable, only to be met with a cloud of dust another wingbeat had kicked up. It momentarily blinded him, allowing the Sky Sergeant to escape as the Talaeus’ vision suffered and his talons found only air.

As the dust settled and both fighters pulled themselves up, it became apparent from his ragged breathing and trembling body that Windshear was at the end of his endurance and his enemy was little better; as they circled on the ground for a final exchange, we all sensed that the ending of the fight was nigh. And if Windshear fell, I made up my mind that I was going to swoop in and decapitate the crippled Talaeus, then order my forces to hunt down and kill every single raider in Cloverfield, saving Mistress Lysandre for myself.

The ending came quickly after a fight that seemed to go on forever, one that methinks had taken both combatants to their very limits and beyond. In one final show of strength, the Talaeus ripped a firegem-lit metal lamppost out of the ground and began swinging it as a bludgeon, astonishing me yet again that he could still be so strong after having suffered so much damage.

But Windshear dodged the clumsy swings once, twice, and then on the third attack charged in hard, knife in mouth before the Talaeus could reset his stance. The latter tried to counter with his own blade but his speed was spent and the Sky Sergeant was on him too quickly, a flying tackle driving his gryphon opponent to the ground in a body slam that methinks would have done even Thunderbolt proud. His knife flashed and a spray of blood was seen as the Talaeus drove his own blade and talons into Windshear’s sides. There was a sickening snap followed by a pained cry from Windshear, and methinks for a moment I was certain they’d killed each other. But suddenly the Talaeus’ entire body went slack as a pool of blood appeared beneath him, the knife falling limply from his hooves.

’Twas over. Windshear rolled off his vanquished opponent, his blade still embedded in Calea’s throat, whose lifeless eyes looked up, his face frozen in an expression of agony and disbelief. The Sky Sergeant’s right foreleg was lying at an awkward angle, Calea’s talons having snapped it, and ’twas clear he was in very bad shape himself.

But he was still the victor of the fight in an act of heroism and sheer determination methinks I’ve never seen before or since. His strategy had worked; we’d been able to save the hostages and rout the raiders with the help of the Lances whilst he kept the Talaeus busy, unable to intervene. His eyes focused just long enough to see me and the rest of the platoon staring at him in awe. “What are you looking at…?” was all he managed before he coughed up blood. “Finish… them… off!”he ordered us through heaving pants, pointing with his good hoof towards the remaining raiders…

And then he passed out where he lay.

* * * * *

Methinks the rest of the battle was anticlimactic after that.

After seeing their patron and champion fall, most of the remaining raiders surrendered or fled to be chased down by our patrols. Perchance thirty or so made it back to Imperial lands, including, unfortunately, the bulk of their leadership, among them being Mistress Lysandre to my great disgust. A few fought on and had to be rooted out, and it fell to the Lances to free their remaining hostages with more conventional means, leaving us in awe of their abilities. I supervised the mop-up operations and called in reinforcements from Gamma and the other two army bases, making sure that Windshear was attended to quickly.

His wounds were severe; to this day methinks I have no idea how he was still able to fight through his pain and numerous injuries. But he had not only fought, he had won against the greatest of foes, his cunning, courage and combat prowess saving an entire village if not his very command. For had Calea lived… ’tis certain that at a minimum he would have slain many of us, and even if he had been somehow driven off, ’tis likely he would have gotten his wish—war with Equestria.

Which ’twas not to say it did not seem certain anyway at that moment in time.

Mea Culpa

’Twas but a day later when the Gryphons requested parley.

With nearly one hundred fifty dead at Cloverfield, including heavy casualties amongst civilians and the Army troops defending them, we were already planning a large-scale counterstrike against the raider bases. Perchance ’twas memories of what happened after the IS-2 massacre that spurred them, wishing to forestall a repeat of the Phoenix Fire operation, or perchance they were afraid the beginnings of their war preparations would be unmasked were we to invade again. But whatever the reason, the Gryphon leadership requested a meeting and Windshear’s presence specifically, saying they wished to ‘offer satisfaction’ for the attack—rare words from the Imperial military, and ones that got our immediate attention, for it meant that they were not denying the raid had occurred. Then again, how could they?

Despite his many wounds, Windshear pulled himself out of the infirmary and made the trip. After being helped onto and off the transport, he slept the night under the care of Gamma healers, who got him well enough to attend. Though still nursing his numerous injuries, he rose at first light and donned his uniform and wingblades, determined to fly out to the mesa under his own power and show no weakness to the gryphons.

’Twas a tall order indeed, but to his immense credit, he did so. I joined him for the trip at his request, since the Calea-led attack had specifically targeted me as well, leaving Omega under the command of Gust Front. ’Twas the only parley I ever attended before the war, in fact, and one that, as it did for my future Captain, made me appreciate the differences between raiders and gryphon regulars.

We assembled as the Captain has previously described, a ‘century’ of mixed troops per side representing all service branches with the addition of several large air carriages landing on the gryphon half of the mesa, the parley commencing with a ritualized show of force including threats of attack. The latter were all the more dangerous given the tension between our two sides; ’twould not have surprised me if an arrow had been unleashed and battle started for it. Not that I would have minded; my fighting blood was still up and I would have loved the chance to test my mettle against well-trained Knights and Talons instead of the usual raider rabble.

On that score, I would be disappointed. After the pre-parley meeting ritual was complete, the then-commander of gryphon border forces, Sub-Consul Larsa, marched forward to meet us. She was flanked by three more Red Talons, which ’tis certain did give me some pause. Windshear had barely beaten one, but to face three…

Despite my misgivings, as instructed, I moved up with Windshear and a single Guardspony stallion to be the matching three to our own leader, Captain Arcus, then-commander of the 5th Division. A brief stare-down ensued, which I met with my thestral eyes, and was rewarded with a startled flinch from Larsa herself. “Good Morning, Captain,” she called to Arcus after our blades were sheathed again, offering a salute in the gryphon manner by thumping her curled talons of her right hoof against her upper left chest.

I had never seen that form of salute before, but didn’t give it much thought as our stallion division commander gave her a perfunctory one back. He then pulled free one of Calea’s Red Talon scimitars from its scabbard and stabbed it hard into the ground before her, dropping his helmet at her talons. “Spare us the small talk, sub-Consul. I have a raided village and over one hundred forty dead in an attack commanded by one of your own elite soldiers. His presence makes this an act of war, and you may expect us to respond accordingly. So if you have something to say, say it.”

“As you wish.” Arcus nodded gravely, then unrolled a scroll. “We acknowledge the raider attack on your colony, and the fact that a Talaeus led it. We do not deny it happened, but we do deny that this attack was sanctioned by anyone in the Imperial military or government.”

“A likely story!” I all but sneered, causing the four gryphons to glance at me. ’Twas out of turn, but I cared not, even as Arcus turned to glare me silent.

“Believe what you wish, bat-pony. But the truth is that First Spear Miyal Calea acted against orders.” Larsa showed us the scroll, upon which was written some very ornate Aeric and signed with the seal we recognized as belonging to the Gryphon Empress herself. “You may have your EIS confirm this if you wish, but before the incident occurred, the First Spear was being recalled to face the Empress for dishonorable warrior conduct; for repeated acts of insubordination and breaking the code of the Talaeus. At a minimum, he was going to be stripped of his rank and title, and had he survived the attack, ’tis certain he would have been executed for treason. ’Twould seem he had been training the groups on his own time in an effort to bring about war, and in the process availing himself of their eaglesses and ill-gotten gains.”

“And you didn’t know about it?” Arcus was unimpressed, though I noted to myself that her story did match up with what Calea had said. “One of your finest warriors assisting raider rabble, and you were completely unaware?” He stomped his hoof in anger.

Larsa, however, was unperturbed. “Talaeus are typically given far greater latitude in their personal lives than regular soldiers. ’Twas severely abused here, and we offer our apologies for it,” she answered carefully, then tossed a gem on the ground, which turned into several chests of coins and gems as well as a second scroll, bearing writing in Equish and Aeric. “We acknowledge our fault in this matter, and to that end, we offer this restitution for the families of the victims and a formal ceding to Equestria of the disputed territories around Omega… if you will swear not to invade gryphon territory as you did to hunt down the Lucavi some years ago.” She arched her eyeridge at us. “I strongly suggest you take this offer as I am not Legate Ampok. Be assured, Captain, that should you seek revenge against the raiders responsible, we will defend our lands.”

I found the attempt at a bribe insulting, as did Captain Arcus. “’Tis not my decision to make, Sub-Consul. And mere money does not bring back the lives lost amongst our civilians, Army or Corps. So you may be assured that we will make your raider groups pay a heavy price for this action, even if we have to go through your Talon legions to do it!” He deployed his wingblades for emphasis, and ’twas no idle threat—orders had already been issued to stage additional Corps and Army units into the area; within a week we would have the entire border reinforced and over twelve thousand troops ready to invade—more than enough to overmatch the two Talon legions in the area plus whatever remained of the three raider groups.

Talons moved towards blades in response as the two commanders stared each other down; for a moment I thought war was going to break out right then and there. But to my surprise, the sub-Consul relented, nodding in something almost akin to approval. “I would expect no less. Very well, Captain. Since you demand satisfaction… we will give it to you,” she nodded behind her, at which point the doors to the large air carriages they brought were opened and their passengers yanked out.

Retribution

As we watched, nearly forty manacled gryphons were pulled free, none happily as they were dragged forward by grey-dyed captors, some of their prisoners snarling threats and others making tearful pleas. By the garb and coat markings, they belonged to the three raider groups that had participated in the attack, and when they were brought closer, I was stunned to recognize Mistress Lysandre and the other two raider group leaders!

Larsa waited until they’d been brought forward and thrown in the dirt before us before speaking again. “Captain, may I present to you Master Guzma and Mistresses Lysandre and Evice, leaders of the Alola, Kalos, and Sypher groups, together with their seconds and high-ranking officers,” the gryphon commander said mildly as the prisoners were forced to their knees, many bearing wounds from either the attack on our colony or simply resisting capture. “And I do hope you appreciate the effort it took for our Raven friends to find them and bring them here in a single night,” she added without any hint of humor, glancing back at the grey-dyed Ravens whose faces were hidden by scarves and goggles as they held blades to their captives’ throats. Their appearance was a surprise; we knew them to be the pet hunters and assassins of their Office of Owls, rarely-seen warriors of shadow the equals of our Lances and nearly as dangerous as the Red Talons that faced us.

“Methinks I’m confused. Are you giving them to us?” Arcus was genuinely surprised and I was no less. The gryphons were always insistent on dealing with their own subjects themselves, demanding return of prisoners and refusing to turn over raiders to us even when we proved their crimes.

As it turned out, such was the case here as well. “No.” For her part, Larsa did not look directly at her captives, which I later learned meant she considered them beneath her. “They are gryphons, and thus this is a gryphon matter. As we do not wish war or to suffer another incursion, this time, we will do the job for you. As they have violated the border, spilled Equestrian blood and threatened the peace for petty greed and misbegotten pursuit of vengeance, ’tis been decided they are now a liability best expunged.” She raised her taloned hoof high, as if preparing to give a signal. “They have been tried and found guilty of treason, and their sentence… will now be carried out.”

With that, she made a downward slashing motion with her talons and the Ravens slit the throats of their prisoners, executing them all on the spot, their blood staining the sand in front of them. A few soldiers behind me went sick to their stomachs; even I was perturbed by what I saw. I might have liked to slay Mistress Lysandre myself, but somehow, there was no satisfaction in seeing her die so ignominiously here.

Larsa waited nearly twenty seconds before speaking again, perchance to make sure all her captives had died first. “There is now no vengeance for you to take, Captain. Their leadership is destroyed and to little surprise, once we captured their commanders, the remainder of their rank-and-file fled, scattering to the winds. Their groups are now disbanded, so if you still choose to invade, you will find nothing except my legions to meet you, and an attack will result in open war,” she warned us, her eagle eyes narrowing. “We do not wish this, but if you force it upon us, you will find us more than willing to fight. So in the interests of peace, I once again offer our regrets and restitution. And I strongly suggest you take it,” this time she lowered her head in warning.

“I… will convey your offer,” Arcus answered carefully, stunned by what he’d just seen. I was hardly squeamish about such matters myself, but could still hardly believe it. Did they fear war with us that much? Or was there some other reason they didn’t want to fight? “Is that all, then?”

“Not quite,” she replied, then turned to Windshear. “’Twould seem our Talaeus have something to say.” She stepped back as a single menacing Red Talon warrior stepped forward to approach Windshear, stopping halfway to him by Calea’s fallen helmet and scimitar. Recognizing the invitation, Windshear stepped forth himself to go eye to eye with the gryphon, who drew his sword and was met with wingblade deployment. I was ready to leap forth to defend him, knowing he was in no shape for another fight, but Arcus’ raised hoof stayed me.

And indeed, ’twould seem the Red Talon in question was only testing Windshear’s nerve and spirit, as he did nothing more than try to stare him down.

“So are you going to challenge me or just glare at me, Centurion?” Windshear finally asked the dangerous-looking sky gryphon tiercel, far sleeker yet somehow seeming every bit as strong as Calea had been. “If you wish to avenge your comrade, then ’twould be best to strike now, whilst I’m still weak from my wounds,” he told the gryphon, who stared at him a moment longer but then stepped back.

“No,” the tiercel replied in excellent Equish. “’Tis no honor in dueling a weakened opponent. But be assured we will seek vengeance someday, Sky Sergeant Windshear of Cloudsdale,” he promised. “Miyal Calea deserved dishonor and death, but he was still a Talaeus. You have given the Red Talon name a stain, one that must be expunged. When the time is right, we will seek your defeat.”

Far from intimidated, Windshear answered attitude for attitude. “If you do, then face me as a warrior, one on one. No hostages. No threats to settlements or subordinates. Show me the honor your brute of a comrade lacked, and I will grant you the chance… Centurion Layan Kaval of Loondon.” We knew his name and home because we’d been briefed on likely participants in the parley, which included the recently-arrived and ranking Red Talon on the Equestrian continent.

“Be assured that I am not Miyal Calea, either in attitude or ability,” Kaval replied in an air that was somehow anything but arrogant, as if he was making a simple statement of fact. “Know that you have gained our respect as well as our ire, Sky Sergeant. I give you my word that when the time comes, we will seek a proper challenge and not endanger innocents.”

“I will hold you to that. In the meantime, you can take this trash back with you.” Windshear motioned to Calea’s armor and weapons.

“Keep them,” the Red Talon invited. “They are yours now. It is our way. To defeat a Talaeus is to become one. To gain the rights to his armor and weapons,” he explained, and then stepped back and saluted Windshear with his drawn sword, cueing his comrades to do the same. “We recognize you as an elite warrior and a Red Talon peer—Sky Sergeant Windshear!”

His right foreleg still bound, Windshear returned the salute crisply with his wing. Once he had done so, the Red Talons sheathed their swords and stepped back whilst the Sub-Consul stepped forward, causing Arcus to do the same. “Our business is concluded, Captain,” the former told the latter. “And for all our sakes, I hope once again that you do not choose war…”

I didn’t see how we could at that point, and indeed, we did not, conveying formal acceptance of the Imperial offer at a second parley the following week.

Triumphant

I did not stay to see it. I returned to Omega the next morning, leaving Windshear behind under the care of Army and Corps healers so he could mend fully. In the end, he spent a week there and then another two weeks leave with his herd, and none would say that he had not earned the right.

Gust Front ran a reinforced Omega in his absence, though with the destruction of the three area raider groups, the frontier fell quiet. Soldiers of both sides patrolled the border canyon in sight of each other, but there were no incidents; over time tensions subsided and the extra troops went home.

Cloverfield was almost entirely rebuilt by the time Windshear returned to Omega fully healed. We gave him a hero’s welcome, but our celebration was tempered by an announcement—after convalescing and talking it over with his herd, he was leaving Omega and transferring to the Royal Guard, intending to become a trainer for them as he had once been for the Corps.

He said he was doing so for two reasons: one, he wished to train the next generation of stallion warriors, and two, he feared his continued presence on the frontier was an open invite to Talaeus challenges or raider remnants seeking revenge. In the end, he’d had enough combat and close calls to realize that ’twas time for him to seek safer postings that would keep him out of action and closer to his herd; closer to the mares and foals he loved.

Though sorry to see him leave, we held a farewell-to-arms party for him, one even the new Army regiment that garrisoned the three colonies participated in—one consequence of the attack was an increase in the army garrison at each colony from company to battalion size. And on the day of his departure, Princess Celestia herself appeared to oversee the change of command ceremony, held in Cloverfield so the Army troops and the townsponies Windshear saved could watch as well. We had known she was coming, anticipating a speech, and indeed, she gave a moving one. ’Tis certain we did not, however, anticipate the honor she was to bestow on him that day.

“Sky Sergeant Windshear,” she addressed him at the end of the ceremony. “Your deeds are incredible, your will indomitable and your devotion to duty an inspiration to all. You have shown by example that the truest essence of a warrior is to serve and protect others, willing to lay down your life for them even facing the most formidable and terrible of foes. You are a hero in every sense of the word, and for it, you have earned the greatest of all accolades,” she paused as she materialized a small box and he bowed before her.

“For service to Equestria above and beyond the call of duty, for acts of utmost valor, for showing the greatest of skill and gallantry in defeating an elite enemy warrior, and above all else for saving an entire village and sustaining severe wounds doing so, you are now and forever a Knight of Equestria… and a Defender of Harmony!” she said in a loud and fervent voice, tapping the tip of her large wing to his shoulders whilst opening the box to place the blue-ribboned medal inside it around his neck, a large gold medallion embedded in a diamond bearing the symbol of the sun and moon.

Our collective jaws fell open at the sight. We had expected him to be awarded the Sapphire Sentinel, but the Defender of Harmony? She had not only Knighted him; she’d just given him the highest Equestrian military award there was! But none could say he did not deserve it as hoofstomps and cheers erupted, his herd mares going immediately to his side to hug him and thank the princess personally.

I’d known he’d herded with two former Corps mares, who had retired from combat duty years earlier to raise their foals, but ’twas the first and only time I saw them… though ’twas not until my Captain related the contents of the last chapter that I understood why they each wore a single red feather.

Windshear departed that night and started basic with the Royal Guard a month later. In his wake, Gust Front became CO, promoted from SFC to Master Sergeant whilst I ascended to Operations Officer, and two years after that to Executive Officer upon my own promotion to Sergeant First Class.

We would never see our former commander again as he simply thought it best not to tempt fate by coming near the border. ’Twas not to say he did not face additional trials, however. Despite his accomplishments and accolades he was stripped of his rank and forced to undergo basic Guardspony training along with the younger recruits. Despite its harshness and how unfair it seemed, ’twas never in doubt he would succeed, and upon graduation, he was given an equivalent Guardspony rank, named a First Sergeant and immediately assigned as a Fort Spur trainer for incoming pegasus recruits. Within two years he would ascend to head trainer when the previous one retired, promoted to Sergeant Major in his place, and ’twas there he stayed. He wrote us once or twice to inquire how things were going and say he did miss us, but at the same time, he reported he was now quite content with his station and enjoying his work.

He even said once he did rather miss the thrill of combat command, but we assured him he wasn’t missing much. Raids did begin again in a year or two, once enough time had passed and new raider groups had established themselves, but they were not up to the level of the old ones and proved more an irritant than actual danger. Conversely, after having their heads handed to them in the Calea raid, the Army battalions trained hard. They proved more than capable of handling affairs on their own before long, and in truth, there was little for us to do…

Until one night when we received an emergency transfer order following a raid on Outpost Epsilon. But that, My Captain, methinks our readers already know the story of.

—Fell Flight

Indeed, old friend. I thank you for relating this tale, as remarkable and terrible as any fight we ever participated in. Mother never mentioned this action or the Lances’ capability to briefly take gryphon form, but then again, why would she reveal such sensitive information, even to me? We only found out about it later in an operation we both remember well…

But that is a story for another time. I now write this ending note from Trottingham, where I arrived just today with Fell Flight, the two of us staying with Swift Strike’s herd. ‘Tis our intention to meet up with Ironsides and find the old pub he and Windshear shared many a drink in, where we will raise a mug in his honor. I will speak these words in a toast tonight, but I wish them recorded here as well:

To my former instructor: you were a fine soldier and stallion, mentor to many and you did much for me even in the short time I knew you, not just as a teacher but the first father figure I ever had. Tis certain I hated you at first for how hard you were on me, but ’twas only later I understood how you were helping me by forging me into the best soldier possible, ensuring I could meet any challenge I would face. That I became the mare and warrior I did is testament to you, and Equestria owes you a great debt many times over for the battles you fought and the inspiration you gave us all. I admire and miss you immensely, Sergeant Major, for nothing I accomplished was possible without you…

For ’tis quite possible that Equestria might not have survived without you. I think it fitting that this tome end with your story, so that all may reflect on what it means to be a warrior and hero. ’Tis not, as Calea claimed, a measure of how much you have conquered or how many enemies you have slain, nor is it defined by how many chant your name. ’Tis simply devotion to duty and service to others that define it; a willingness to sacrifice oneself to save many more. In the end, that is what Windshear did, and ’twas his inspiration and example that would sustain us even when all hope seemed lost.

The final word of this chapter and book I give to one other individual present at the parley, who wishes to offer his own paean to a soldier he only briefly met.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain. ’Tis true our one meeting was brief, but told me much about him. Your future second was correct when she sensed I was testing him. Even then I was good at judging strength and found his not at all lacking despite his wounds, a stallion in possession of a strong body and even stronger spirit, knowing exactly who and what he was. ’Twas certain to me he had a warrior’s soul as he met me without fear or hesitation, even willing to offer us satisfaction were it to keep the peace. Perchance we did not hold the same definition of honor, but I recognized that his was deeply held and no less strong than mine, and for it, we did accord him great respect.

In short, he was worthy of his deed—worthy of us—and ’twas for that reason that we did not seek immediate revenge, granting him a year or two of peace. When we finally sought permission to fight him, our request was declined, as the then-Consul did not wish to do anything that might draw attention to his war preparations, telling us to wait for the war itself. And when it came…

Well. I believe that story falls to your sister to tell, Captain. But until then, I will light the ceremonial firepit on our embassy grounds in the Sergeant Major’s honor, raising a bowl of rum in toast to not just a great warrior, but to the very mentor of another great warrior whose own strength and spirit I would learn well.

As you have honored me with the final word of this tome, let me say that your writing has done us all great honor, Captain, and thus, you as well. You sought to tell your story through those of your friends and foes, offering them their rightful share of your glory, and in this, you have succeeded. I look forward to seeing your tales of the war itself, and being allowed to tell the Gryphon side of it in turn. Upon your return, let us meet to remember the battles we fought… and those who fell in them.

—Prelate Layan Kaval (ret.)
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot

Author's Note

It’s a been long road to trod, folks, and not even one we intended to at the start. At first, this was just going to be a short story detailing her time in basic as a side story of The Lawyer and The Unicorn, but like so many of my other words it took on a life of its own and kept expanding, kept building on itself until I realized it had become my favorite story to work on. Been just a couple months short of two years since it was started, and I can only look back in amazement now at where it’s been and how far it’s come. I’ve enjoyed the story immensely, a welcome change and respite when I need a break from clopfics, giving me the opportunity to do something I’ve always wanted to—write a military epic. If you’d asked me five years ago, I would never have dreamed I’d be doing it in the MLP universe, though!

The story is being marked complete, but there will be another bonus chapter added later, this one detailing Equestrian military ranks by service since it’s been requested before. It will be posted on the same day the next book is launched and link to it, providing a path from the old book to the new. When will the new book be ready? Not right away, sorry. There’s a lot I need to do first, not the least of which is finish its parent story, The Lawyer and The Unicorn. But fear not—book two is coming, and will be chock full of battle and campaign maps so you can follow the progress of the war visually. I do need to perfect my techniques for doing so, however... might just have to bite the bullet and get photoshop.

In any event, by now you know who is owed thanks for prereads—AJ_Aficionado, SilentwoodFire, TheGoldCrow and Denim_Blue. Leo Archon also contributed the chapter opening, including the foreword and a good chunk of the initial section. He got me going when I was having some writer’s block, and I thank him for it.

Appendix A: Equestrian Order of Battle

The Equestrian Order of Battle
on the Eve of the Gryphon War

Equestrian Armed Forces:

Total peacetime strength: ~60,000 ponies split between the following service branches, though only a fraction of that strength is normally available at any given point.

I. Royal Guard

The Royal Guard defends Canterlot and provides security, intelligence and training services for the rest of the Equestrian military. Primary responsibility is the security of the capital and princess, but can be deployed as needed.

Intelligence/Plainclothes Security Division

Disguised as ordinary ponies, maids or other castle staff, the PSD is responsible for providing undercover security for Canterlot, Celestia and various high-ranking figures/other nobles. The Equestrian Intelligence Service is run out of this branch and will also launch infiltration or intelligence gathering missions as needed. Almost all mares, but takes unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies. Well-trained and drills frequently, but rarely sees real action as they’re mostly there to stop spies and assassins.

Strength: ~5,000 ponies, stationed mostly in Canterlot but a few attached to outlying towns and bases.

Armored Guard

At the time of Firefly’s enlistment, an elite division consisting of separate regiments of earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns. The only all-stallion unit in the Equestrian military, and the only true combat unit that stallions have.

Given the need to keep male breeding numbers up in the mare-heavy Equestrian society, only stallions that have sired at least one male offspring are allowed to join. Primarily garrisons and provides security for Canterlot and Celestia, though the latter doesn’t truly need it.

The best-trained and equipped unit of the Equestrian Armed Forces, training is brutal and only a quarter of those who attempt it make it through. But those who do proudly wear the armor of the Royal Guard. The self-proclaimed ‘spearhead’ of the Equestrian military, they would only be used for critical attacks or defense.

Strength: three regiments, ~1,000 stallions each for ~3,000 total.

II. Equestrian Aerial Corps

Best regular unit of the Equestrian armed forces. Staffed by pegasi and some very few thestrals, who are still in disfavor with greater Equestria after their perceived alliance with Nightmare Moon. Sees the most action of the entire Equestrian military fighting border skirmishes with the gryphons and other races, so their readiness is generally excellent.

Mostly mares, but a few stallions, whom are not usually allowed to fight. Primarily responsible for patrolling Equestria’s borders and keeping airborne species like gryphons and dragons in check. Well-trained and able to wield weather as a weapon but sometimes stretched thin. Combat veterans get the coveted “Wing Warrior” Badge.

Strength: five air divisions, each responsible for a particular area of Equestria and in peacetime mustering around 2500 pegasi each.

III. Equestrian Army

Primarily earth pony and unicorn mares with some stallions, mostly in support roles. Garrisons border towns and bases, providing local protection; they occasionally see action against Diamond Dog and Gryphon raids. Earth ponies are for close combat and rely on their strength, stamina and resistance to magic, while unicorns tend to fight from a distance using longbows and ranged magical attacks.

Strength: ten divisions with a peacetime strength of around 2,500 ponies each, spread thin throughout Equestria. Unicorns and earth ponies tend to be in separate units. Decently trained and can operate independently given the earth pony ability to grow food anywhere. Earth ponies can also use heavy siege equipment, though there is little in the way of it to start. Also, their training tends to be subordinate to tending their crops, so force readiness often suffers around the harvest and sowing seasons.

IV. Royal Navy

Equestria maintains a small fleet of armored dirigible airships which are mostly to ‘show the flag’, but they can move ground troops around quickly and provide fire support from magical ballistae if necessary. Crewed mostly by unicorns, but also have a pegasus air wing assigned for close defense and launching the equivalent of air strikes. Earth ponies aren’t big on flying so you won’t generally see them on ships, but they’re often assigned to the ground crews that are supposed to keep them flight-worthy.

At one time, the Royal Navy was the signature service of Princess Luna—“If the Guard is Equestria’s shield, the Navy is its sword,” Luna herself once said. But after the War of the Celestial Sisters in which most of the Navy sided with Luna, the service was reduced to a shadow of its former self and its former role has been split between the Guard and Aerial Corps. As such, this once-proud arm of the Equestrian military has been neglected and reduced to a mostly ceremonial branch of the armed forces, little more than a glorified ferry service Celestia only keeps around out of love and remembrance of her lost sister.

Strength: 12 airships of various size and classes, each crewed by anywhere from 50-200 unicorns and, for the larger ships, having an attached air wing of 50 to 200 pegasi. At any given point there’s only enough naval troops available to crew a few, however, and they’re typically only brought out for shows or diplomatic affairs. Rarely to never sees action, and tends to be used by nobles and royals just to say they’ve had military service. Also around ~200 smaller craft which are used to ferry troop detachments and supplies for the other services.

V. Auxiliary Units

1) Pegasus Militia - Unique to Cloudsdale. Troops are generally decent given pegasus warrior heritage, but not up to the level of the Equestrian Aerial Corps. ~5,000 ponies

2) Earth Pony Militia - Each town and city tends to have its own, though training levels vary widely. Troop quality ranges from poor to barely adequate. ~10,000 ponies

3) Equestrian Intelligence Service - Civilian-run adjunct of the Royal Guard, responsible for detecting external and internal threats. Exact numbers classified.

4) Black Lances - Highly-trained special operations battalion of the Equestrian Aerial Corps. Often performs intelligence gathering and covert operations in close cooperation with the EIS. Their tasks include spying, sabotage... and when called for, assassination. One of the few pony units the Gryphons genuinely respect and fear. ~200 pegasi

5) Office of Magical Research - Secretive independent division of the EIS, mostly involved with discovering new forms of ‘defensive magic’, though a watchful observer might wonder why there seems to be a lot of research into elemental abilities of late. Activities and numbers are heavily classified.

6) Princess Celestia - Despite her peaceful nature and aversion to conflict, Celestia has fought several wars in the past, including a very brutal one with her own sister that still haunts her to this day. She is quite capable of combat and her alicorn-level magic and control of the sun makes her, if she so desires, a living Weapon of Mass Destruction that could lay entire armies and cities to waste. Though she cannot be everywhere and does not generally involve herself over minor raids and skirmishes, she would deal with any existential threat against her ponies personally and any attack contemplated on Equestria would have to account for her presence.

Equipment:

Earth Ponies - spears and foreleg-mounted crossbows they can work with their teeth; some wield blades or snares with their mouths. Can wear heavy armor with ease, though there’s not enough of it to go around.

Unicorns - wield longbows with enchanted arrows of various effects, and can launch magical attacks/project shields. Wears enchanted armor to defend against curses and other magic—the Gryphons do have some mages.

Pegasi - harness-mounted wingblades and hoofstrikers, some few crossbows. With the exception of the Armored Guard pegasi, which can handle heavier loads, wear light armor only.

Appendix B: Gryphon Order of Battle

The Gryphon Empire
Order of Battle
on the Eve of the Equestrian Invasion

The Gryphon Empire:

A proud nation and people with a rich military history and warrior tradition following the unification wars and defeat of the Cloven and Elder Rams, the gryphons now rule their own continent and look to expand into the Equestrian one. They seek to supplant ponies in order to establish themselves as their world’s preeminent race, believing their predatory nature and warrior heritage make them the rightful rulers of the world rather than the herbivorous and ‘harmonious’ Equestrians.

They have already established colonies in the northeast corner of the Equestrian continent, with their main supply base being the large port city of Cirrus Cassida, located but a hundred miles northeast of Fillydelphia. The border between the two sides consists of large canyon and river, at least until it disappears into the wild and unsettled northwestern territories which both sides are now attempting to claim.

i. History:

The Gryphon Empire was born from a highly fractured feudal society and forged not only through several wars of unification but many major military conflicts, including surviving an existential threat from a merciless enemy called The Cloven of the Sun.

Though they possess a class of nobility and are ruled by an Empress, the Empire is very much a meritocracy, with gryphon society and military putting a very high premium on personal achievement, honor and advancement not for the sake of individual accomplishment, but for the greater glory of the Empire. Individual soldiers that show drive and skill are richly rewarded with higher rank and extra armor pieces. Military service is mandatory as all Gryphons come of age, giving them a large pool of soldiers they can draw on when needed.

ii. Race, Diet, Gender, and Abilities

Unlike ponies, Gryphons have no gender restrictions or skewed gender ratios, so both tiercels and eaglesses may serve and fight on equal footing. Gryphons cannot control weather like pegasi, but can walk on clouds like all flying species of their world. They do have some magic users who are nowhere near as numerous as unicorns but generally much more powerful on an individual basis. Gryphons are omnivores, able to hunt and kill for meat quite readily but cannot grow grain or the other crops they need anywhere near as well as Earth Ponies.

Their nation forged in fire from a harsh land, Gryphons take great pride in themselves and their history, which is is drummed into them from birth. Gryphons can be divided into the following subspecies:

Sky Gryphons

Their race born in the harsh northern mountains of their homeland, sky gryphons have sleek bodies and large wings that grant them phenomenal flight strength and stamina, able to achieve altitudes and ranges well in excess of most pegasi. They can fly hundreds of miles; some have even been known to successfully cross oceans. Their speed and agility is not quite on par with pegasi but their strength and talons make them a force to be reckoned with in the air. They are less effective on the ground and vulnerable there to unicorn magic and earth pony strength.

Earth Gryphons

Their bodies designed for heavy manual labor, farming and industry in the southern plains, forests and grasslands of their homeland, Earth Gryphons trade smaller wings for stronger limbs and torsos and can only fly around twenty leagues at a time. Though not as fast or effective in the air, they excel at ground combat, are able to use heavy weapons and armor, and the manual dexterity of their talons means they can wield arms and tools most earth ponies cannot.

Mage Gryphons

Not so much a subspecies as a gift some few gryphons are born with, Mage Gryphons are magic wielders, though they require a special staff or stave to focus their power and cast spells. They can be either sky gryphons or earth gryphons, and once their talent is recognized they are sent to the Imperial Magic Academy for extensive training. Their primary weapons are elemental powers like Wind, Fire and Lightning, spells that are no longer taught in Equestria by royal decree for their danger and potential for misuse.

Though far fewer in number than their Equestrian counterparts and not possessing the range of spells that Equestrian Army Unicorns do, they are generally much more powerful on a mage-to-mage basis and even a handful of them can turn the tide of battle. Their strength is also their weakness, however—they cannot cast without their staves, and they are not usually adept at physical combat. If you can get through their defenses or separate them from their staves, they can fall quickly.

I. Imperial Military

Total strength: ~350,000 gryphons split between three main service branches, including 200,000 more reserves when fully mobilized. Currently 120,000 troops deployed on the Equestrian continent, with 100,000 more en route. At the start of the invasion, can throw over a quarter million soldiers into the field.

Talons

Comprising the bulk of Imperial military, the Talons are the Empire’s regular army forces. Well trained and versed in both ground and air combat, Talons can take and hold territory, lay siege to cities, and launch large-scale operations. You will usually see them for set-piece battles or attacks on bases and cities, not so much for raids or strictly aerial fights. Sky gryphons tend to be scouts and provide air cover while earth gryphons do the bulk of the ground combat, though the former are certainly trained in it and can launch attacks from a defender’s blind side quite readily.

Strength: 280,000 in roughly fifty legions, about a 70/30 split between earth and sky gryphons. Thirty legions are deployed for the initial attack.

Knights

The elite forces of the Imperial Military, Knights are highly trained gryphons that often work in close coordination with the Talons to break down defenses or overcome stubborn resistance. They are often used for initial breakthrough operations and are subdivided as follows:

Wind Knights

Highly skilled and seasoned sky gryphons whose primary purpose is to wrest control of the air away from pegasi, Wind Knights are proficient with both fighting from a distance with crossbows and close combat with steel claws, a force to be reckoned with both in the air and on the ground. They are used for everything from long-range reconnaissance to launching lightning raids and infiltration missions deep into enemy territory and are special operations capable. Wind Knights are the biggest gryphon threat to pegasus dominance of the skies.

Strength: 60,000 in twelve legions, all sky gryphon. Eight legions currently deployed to the Equestrian frontier.

Fortis Knights

Exceptionally powerful and capable earth gryphons able to wield the heaviest of weapons and armor including massive shields and war hammers, Fortis Knights are shock troops that are nearly equal in strength to the earth pony stallions of the Royal Guard. They fight in phalanx formations, able to smash through even the strongest defenses and overcome almost any resistance they’re faced with. They are typically used for an initial assault, breaking through defenses for exploitation by the Talons. When fighting defensively, they use their interlocking shields to form a nearly impenetrable shieldwall.

Strength: 80,000 divided into sixteen legions, all earth gryphon. Ten legions currently deployed to the Equestrian Frontier.

Magus Knights

When mage gryphons graduate the Imperial Magic Academy, they receive the violet cloak and silver armor of Magus Knights, powerful magic users able to rain lightning and fire down on defenders. They are typically attached in small numbers to Talon or Knight units and are an instant force multiplier in any engagement. Their numbers are relatively few, however, and they are not invulnerable; they cannot win a fight by themselves, particularly when significant numbers of unicorns are involved.

Strength: ~5,000 mage gryphons, split equally between earth and sky.

Auxiliary Guard

Internal security and occupation forces, comprised of both earth and sky gryphons, either retired veterans or gryphons who are only part-time soldiers around working farms, mines, or other industries. The Guard is not normally used offensively, but are decently trained and can fight if they need to as they garrison and secure rear areas. Roughly equal in skill and ability to pegasus militia but far more numerous given the mandatory military service requirement of the Gryphon Empire.

Strength: 200,000, usually broken down into cohort (500) or century-sized (100) units for garrison duty. The bulk of them remain behind to defend the Gryphon homeland, but 50,000 are available for the Equestrian Campaign.

III. Auxiliary Units

1) Imperial Navy - Primary a civilian-crewed ocean-crossing transport force that is essential for bringing in large amounts of supplies and siege equipment, but Equestrian Intelligence has wind of large project underway back in the Gryphon homeland. ~200 seagoing ships, 50,000 crew.

2) Peacekeepers - Enforcers of Imperial law in occupied territories, able to mete out reward or punishment as they see fit. Generally have authority over Auxiliary Guard garrisons. ~15,000 strong.

3) Raiders - Gryphon irregular forces. Mercenaries they hire to carry out harassment or kidnap raids on pony outposts and towns. May consist of other species like Diamond Dogs or even disaffected ponies. Not well-trained or disciplined, but not to be taken lightly either. Gryphon regular forces will afford defeated enemies a modicum of honor and respect, but raiders do not. ~2,000 in various groups.

4) Office of Owls - The Empire’s feared spy and intelligence gathering network, responsible for rooting out internal threats and keeping close watch on Equestrian activity. The Gryphon counterpart to the Equestrian EIS, but often far less restrained in their operations. Most raider activity is paid for and enabled by them, though it is very hard to connect them to it. Exact numbers and composition unknown.

5) Ravens - The answer to the Equestrian Black Lances, the Ravens are highly specialized hunters who are proficient in all forms of combat and can even infiltrate Equestrian bases and towns to perform various acts of spying, sabotage and assassination. They are usually dyed grey and equipped with gems of various effects, ones that can increase their stealth and attack strength. They prefer to stick to the shadows and generally avoid open combat, but are more than capable of it and rarely fail in their tasks. ~1500 gryphons, takes earth, sky, and magus.

6) Red Talons - Deserving of special mention is the Red Talons. The most skilled and deadly warriors in the entire gryphon military, they number but a century of troops, and entry is only gained by either an incredible act of martial prowess or defeating an existing member in a duel to the death. Their appearance is fearful, consisting of head-to-tail black dye with blood-red talons, stripes, wingtips and tail tassels, and their reputation is legendary as they can take out entire platoons of ponies or other enemies all by themselves.

Though originally part of the Talons, the Red Talons now operate independently, assigned as needed as bodyguards or used for critical operations only. They are both mighty warriors and symbols of gryphon supremacy. They are used sparingly, but their appearance in battle alone has been known to rally gryphon soldiers and break the spirit of their enemies.

IV. Equipment:

Talons and Auxiliary Guard - Spears, scimitars and shields, generally light to medium armor, though individual soldiers earn more sturdy armor by achievement and advancing through the ranks.

Wind Knights - Crossbows and steel claws, though they are trained with blades as well. Generally light leather armor consisting of breastplate and shoulder pauldrons only, though the former has to be earned and the latter can be upgraded. Higher ranking members will also be seen with foreleg protection.

Fortis Knights - Heavy armor, massive interlocking shields and war hammers, some blades and spears as well. They also have some siege equipment, catapults and rams, but they can only be brought forward slowly.

Ravens - Scimitars, crossbows, and various magical gems, including magical interference, flash, explosive, and thunder.

Red Talons - Specially enchanted onyx helm and armor that can guard against most magic and physical attacks. Enchanted blades and hammers that can slice through almost any armor or crumble walls and structures with a single blow. In keeping with the Empire’s meritocracy and general philosophy, the Red Talons, or Talaeus as the Gryphons know them, are the very best so they get the very best.

Author's Note

A companion bonus chapter for the earlier Equestrian Order of Battle chapter. This heavily borrows on the Gryphon lore in the Gentlemanverse and the story Feathered Heart, both authored by Demon Eyes Laharl.

I wrote this in just a few hours and am posting it now. Thank you AJ_Aficionado for :heart: the preread. There may be a delay before further chapters come out as I have a couple other things to work on first. Consider this some more world-building and scene-setting for the conflict to come. Also, I'm inserting this one chapter up since that's where it was originally intended for; immediately after the parlay with the gryphons.

Thanks for following this story! Enjoy the bonus material and hope your holidays were fun and bright! :heart:

Appendix C: Equestrian Military Awards

Awards and Medals given by the Equestrian Armed Forces

Each service branch has up to fifty awards, given for both combat and non-combat achievements. For simplicity’s sake, this list will only include combat awards and notable non-combat ones. There are both universal and service-specific awards. Note that service-specific awards can in fact be given to members of other service branches or even civilians if they were attached to that service, as Royal Guardspony Firefly was to the Equestrian Aerial Corps.

I. Cross-Service Awards

These medals are available to all branches of the Equestrian military and can be given to any member of any service:

Defender of Harmony

A star-shaped blue diamond inscribed with the Equestrian flag emblem embedded within a larger gold medallion and hanging from a star-studded blue ribbon, the Defender of Harmony award is the highest military honor a pony can ever receive. From the Equestrian military manual: “The Defender of Harmony medal can only be granted by direct order of Princess Celestia herself. It is only awarded for the greatest of martial feats, a medal of honor given for acts of incredible heroism that go far above and beyond the call of duty to win battles and save Equestrian lives.” Decades may pass between instances of this medal being awarded, and even in wartime it is quite rare. Celestia does not grant it lightly, and the acts that earn it are the stuff of legend… and nightmares. There is currently just one living member of the Equestrian military who holds it.

Celestial Seal of Sacrifice

Circular purple quartz medallion inscribed with Celestia’s sun cutie mark and hanging from a white ribbon, the Seal of Sacrifice is granted automatically for being wounded or killed in combat. Subsequent awards result in a red stripe added to the ribbon.

Dove of Fidelity

Silver pendant inscribed with a dove, hanging from black ribbon with red vertical stripes, the Dove of Fidelity is awarded to sole survivors of attacks and ambushes. Considered by many to be a mark of shame and the one award no soldier ever wants to receive. It is only given by personal request of the eligible soldier and often accompanies their retirement from active service.

Princess Pendant

Orange Topaz with gold inlay inscribed with the Equestrian flag. Given to units and individuals not for single feats, but for exceptional long-term service to Equestria over a period of 25 years or more.

Sun Master

Not an award, but a title given by Celestia to military leaders who display brilliant battlefield strategy and equally cunning tactics, able to turn defeat into stunning victory. She does NOT give it simply for winning wars or battles, but for either overcoming impossible odds or subduing a powerful enemy without fighting, which in the words of the original Sun Master, is the highest aspiration of military leadership. In fact, the original Sun Master has, to this point, been the only one in Equestrian history. But should she appoint a new one, that pony would gain a rank equivalent to the gryphon post of Prelate, able to command the entirety of the armed forces and wielding military authority second only to Celestia herself.

II. Equestrian Aerial Corps Awards

Steeped in pegasus warrior tradition, the Corps values individual achievement and personal bravery as much as teamwork, a necessity since teamwork can be difficult in chaotic aerial combat environments. Their combat medals tend to be for individual feats of valor, though rarely you’ll see them awarded as a unit commendation.

Aerial Corps Combat Awards in reverse order of precedence:

A. Wing Warrior

Silver medal etched with a shield overlaid with a single black wingblade, hanging from a black-and-white ribbon. “Awarded automatically to all Corps pegasi taking part in ground or air combat against an enemy force.”

B. Sapphire Star

Small sapphire crystal in the shape of a star hanging from a white ribbon emblazoned with the Corps emblem. “The second level of Corps combat awards, the Sapphire Star is given to Corps soldiers for acts of conspicuous courage or skill in ground or air combat.” Firefly was awarded one for her engagement with the Ravens, not just for killing several of them but for saving the life of her charge. This is also an example of one service’s award being given to a soldier of another, as she is a Royal Guardspony currently assigned to the Corps.

C. Sapphire Sun

Medium sapphire crystal inscribed with the symbol of the sun, hanging from a silver ribbon emblazoned with the Corps emblem. “The third level of Corps combat award, the Sapphire Sun is to be granted to Corps soldiers who demonstrate great bravery or combat prowess in action against a superior enemy force, winning the day and saving lives despite long odds.”

D. Sapphire Sentinel

Large blue sapphire crystal inscribed with the Corps Shield-and-Wingblades emblem and hanging from a white ribbon with two narrow vertical silver stripes. “The highest of all Corps combat awards, the Sapphire Sentinel is granted only for acts of singular daring and valor in defense of Equestria and Equestrian lives, such martial feats as might hearken back to the greatest in pegasus history.” Even for as much action as the Corps typically sees, they might be awarded only once or twice a decade. Fell Flight’s was the first in eight years.

Other Corps Combat Awards:

A. Aerial Ace

White diamond star against lapis lazuli backdrop and hanging from a white ribbon emblazoned with the Corps emblem. A series of medals awarded for scoring aerial victories against individual opponents in combat. The benchmarks are five, fifteen, twenty-five, fifty, and one-hundred victories; each benchmark adds another small lapis lazuli dot to the award on the points of the main star, with five being considered the maximum. Technically, there could be a sixth star added to the center, awarded for achieving even more victories, but the first pony offered such a reward refused, saying, “I don’t want to be confused for having more stars than any general.” Every pony who reaches a benchmark beyond one-hundred recites the same quote now, as a tradition. Such ponies are generally only seen once in a lifetime.

B. Commander’s Cross

A pair of X-crossed wingblades with the recipient’s rank insignia overlaid, white diamond against a blue sapphire backdrop, hanging from a white ribbon. “Given only to officers, both commissioned and non, who display exemplary leadership in battle.” Not granted simply for winning a battle, but for doing so under exceptional circumstances. Firefly’s feat of realizing a ruse and then returning to her base in time to save it, devising a counterattack that wiped out an entire raider group attacking it, qualifies.

C. Wing Commander Award

Wingblade-inscribed gold pendant hanging from a sky-blue ribbon emblazoned with officer insignia. “Given only to commissioned officers who personally and heroically lead troops to victory in battle, showing both great tactical skill and battlefield valor.” You have to be nominated by your own soldiers to qualify. First Lieutenant Sundiver received one when he was a second lieutenant for rallying his forces to defeat a large raider attack on the town of Trottingham.

D. Wind Master

A title granted only to the greatest of pegasus warriors, dating from ancient times. There is no set criteria for it; you can only be given it by acclaim of the Corps rank-and-file and acquiescence of the general staff. There have been but twelve in all of Corps history, though some great pegasus warriors that predate the modern Corps bore the title as well, including the legendary Commander Hurricane.

Black Lance Combat Awards:

The Black Lances, despite being an extension of the Corps, have their own set of medals and honors in addition to the regular Corps ones. However, given the clandestine nature of their operations, nopony outside the Lances knows what they are, and the Lances share no secrets. When a former or current Lance dies, a hidden memorial at their Coltonado training grounds records their name and service record, including their awards, in code.

III. Equestrian Army Awards:

The Equestrian Army’s philosophy on awards is a bit different than the Aerial Corps. Since the Earth Ponies who originally made up the Army emphasized collective work and herd-based protective strategies, Army doctrine emphasizes teamwork and unit cohesion over individual action. Accordingly, Army combat awards tend to be given more to units than individual soldiers. Though there are exceptions to this, the simple truth is that unlike the freewheeling aerial battles the Corps takes part in, Army soldiers rarely fight alone. Even with the inclusion of unicorns, who gave up their own one-time service branch some centuries earlier, this hasn’t changed, though additional awards were added for unicorns when they (reluctantly) integrated with the Army at Celestia’s order.

Army Combat Awards (given in reverse order of precedence):

A. Emerald Arrow/Spear

The Army Equivalent of the Aerial Corps Wing Warrior Badge; awarded automatically for being in combat. As the Army sees somewhat less action than the Corps, this is seen more rarely than the Wing Warrior badge.

B. Opal Arrow/Spear

Circular Opal inscribed with an arrow or spear depending on whether the awardee(s) are unicorns or earth ponies. “For notable gallantry or heroism in action against an enemy force.”

C. Amethyst Amulet

Gold-crusted amethyst in the shape of a shield etched with a gold arrow or spear depending on whether the awardee(s) are unicorns or earth ponies, who tend to fight separately. “Awarded for displays of great gallantry and heroism in combat with an enemy force, resulting in not just victory but the preservation of pony lives.”

D. Diamond Defender

Gold-encrusted diamond in the shape of the Army emblem, a shield inscribed with crossed spears-and-arrows. “For standing fast and refusing to falter despite incredible odds, displaying such skill and valor that reflects the most treasured traditions and deepest honor of the Equestrian Army.” Historically, receiving this highest of army awards means you and your unit were killed receiving it by defending towns or townsponies in a heroic last stand. The latest award of it was two years after Fell Flight’s Sapphire Sentinel action, concurrent with the battle that would result in Windshear’s Defender of Harmony award.

Other Notable Army Awards:

A. Guardian Granite

Shield-shaped quartzite embedded in a granite medallion, hanging from a green ribbon. “Given for steadfast service to Equestria and constantly meritorious actions both in battle and out.” Typically, you have to be in the Army for ten years to qualify.

B. Magnetite Medal

Circular magnetite carved into the shape of a compass. As its name suggests, this award is given to earth ponies and unicorns who complete a special training course that enables them to use their respective magic to navigate without maps or compasses. This ability is used extensively by the Pathfinders, an elite army unit that in wartime acts alternately as long-range raiders and ground shock troops. Having this medal doesn’t mean you’re a Pathfinder, but the odds are pretty good.

C. Archer Agate

Roughly the equivalent of the Corps Aerial Ace medal, this is only granted to unicorn longbow and earth pony crossbow archers of exceptional ability and skill. The basic award is an agate medal with inscribed longbow/crossbow hanging from a black ribbon, to which red, silver and gold stripes are added for every five, ten, and fifty kills. Such rarified heights are rarely seen outside of wartime, however. There are also non-combat marksponyship awards for longbow and crossbow wielders.

D. Desert Rose

A medal made of its namesake crystal awarded to Army desert warfare specialists. Often gained during extended tours of the southern badlands or the buffalo border.

E. Iron Forge

Crossed blacksmith hammers carved from iron against a fiery sunstone backdrop reminiscent of a kiln and hanging from an orange ribbon. Given only to earth pony specialists who can operate siege equipment and wield the heaviest of weapons and armor. Such things are in short supply in the Equestrian Army, however; the only current heavy weapons-equipped unit is an earth pony regiment at Stalliongrad.

IV. Royal Navy Individual Awards

Formerly Luna’s service just as the Royal Guard is Celestia’s, the Royal Navy has many dozens of non-combat awards that are a bit too liberally given. They do have combat medals that date back to Luna’s time but are rarely awarded as Celestia has made clear to the mostly-ceremonial service that her sister would not appreciate them being given out without good reason.

In Luna’s time, it was her tradition and thus that of her Navy to award titles as opposed to medals, and the names of the awards still reflect that legacy. As the former offensive arm of the Equestrian military, Naval awards also tended to less reflect single accomplishments then strings of them, as Luna valued long and loyal service over single actions or short-term tours of duty. Now, the Navy would award these more for individual actions in line with the rest of the military, but the original award titles remain:

Naval Titles and their medal/insignia equivalents, from lowest to highest:

A. Lunar Guardspony

A silver medal etched with the old naval sword-and-moon insignia and hanging from royal blue ribbon, or a collar insignia comprised of sword-and-moon buttons. “Being named a Lunar Guardspony is a high honor granted only by our beloved regent for meritorious service to the navy and the night, both in combat and out. To be in the Guard is to be recognized as a fine fighter and worthy servant to our Lunar Princess.” This is not awarded for any single action or feat, but several of them over time. In Luna’s time, surviving multiple battles and scoring at least ten kills was generally the threshold for entry, as Luna did not give titles out lightly.

B. Star Sentry

White star-shaped diamond hanging from a royal ribbon, or a collar insignia of a star overlaid with the moon. “The second order of the Lunar Guard, a Star Sentry is one who has surpassed the merely ordinary to become an elite warrior worthy of standing at their regent’s side.” During the Celestial War, you had to survive a dozen battles and score a long list of kills to qualify.

C. Moon Knight

Polished circular nebula crystal with a narrow opalite insert giving it the appearance of a cat-eye, hanging from a gold ribbon. “The third order of the Lunar Guard, a Moon Knight is a pony who has performed exceptional service to his or her princess and fellow ponies in armed conflict, attaining such incredible deeds as to be worthy of respect and remembrance.” Originally, Moon Knight and above were limited to only thestrals, but pegasi were eventually awarded it as well. Historically, it was awarded only to the most skilled and seasoned veterans of naval service, warriors who survived entire conflicts and whose names became known to both sides.

D. Shadowbolt

A collar insignia of a lightning bolt against a crescent moon. “The fourth order of the Lunar Guard, the Shadowbolts are our regent’s personal guard and the best of the best. To gain the rank of Shadowbolt is to become legend, immortalized for all time.” Formerly the Naval special forces, ‘Shadowbolt’ is still a ceremonial title given to naval flyers of exceptional skill. None has been awarded in the past fifty years, but during the Celestial War, it was a feared group whose combat skills were on par with the future Bolt Knights. Naval pegasi or thestrals had to score at least one hundred kills to qualify, and even then, you could only gain entry to the group through a duel or performing an incredible martial feat.

E. Night Guardian

Deep blue moonstone etched with Luna’s crescent moon cutie mark, which is then filled with diamond and hung from a white ribbon, or a collar insignia of a lightning bolt and sword against the crescent moon. “The fifth and highest order of the Lunar Guard, to be named a Night Guardian is to be added to the annals of the greatest warriors in all of Equestrian history. It may only be ordered by the Moon Princess herself for such spectacular service or sacrifice as to be worthy of story and song.” The only known pony who ever held this rank was the Captain of the Shadowbolts during the reign of Nightmare Moon, a thestral stallion named Star Sable.

Other Navy Titles from least to most prestigious:

A. Cat-Eye Caster

made of its namesake crystal and awarded to unicorns who master the difficult night vision spell, giving them eyesight on par with thestrals, at least as long as the spell lasts. Can also be awarded to Army and Royal Guard unicorns. This is one of the few combat spells you have to go to the Navy to learn.

B. Night Fighter

A moon opal inlaid with red ruby in the shape of a thestral wing, with equivalent collar insignia. Awarded automatically to naval soldiers who see combat, of which there are precious few. There have been but fifteen awarded in the past half-century, and those were typically by accident, simply being in the wrong place at the right time, like one instance where naval unicorns and pegasi fought gryphons at a parley gone wrong. Originally it was only awarded for night action, hence the name, but given its rarity was later expanded to include any combat action.

C. Ship Fighter

A malachite mainmast against a circular moon opal backdrop with equivalent collar insignia. Awarded automatically to captains who command their vessels in combat, which hasn’t happened in over half a century. The last naval action was when the EAS Vigil happened to be docked in Fillydelphia during a sea pirate attack and fired her few working guns in anger.

D. Ship Master

An old naval title and roughly equivalent of the Aerial Corps’ Commander’s Cross, given only to ship commanders who show exceptional leadership in battle. The last one to be awarded was over a century earlier to the legendary Captain Windrider, who challenged and defeated a dragon raiding an Equestrian village with his airship, the EAS Indomitable. For achieving it, you get the old Ship Master rank insignia of a single braided white shoulder epaulettes attached to the shoulder and right front chest pocket with dark blue buttons overlaid with crescent moons.

E. Fleet Fighter

A title granted only to commodores and above who successfully command entire squadrons or armadas in battle. There have been none in a very long time. For achieving it, you get the old Royal Navy Commodore insignia of twin braided white shoulder epaulettes attaching to both shoulders and chest pockets with dark blue buttons overlaid with crescent moons.

F. Fleet Master

An old naval title given to high-ranking admirals who displayed great skill in naval combat whether in the air or on the sea, commanding their fleets to great and stunning victories. It was an award that Luna gave herself, as her tradition was that such a pony became overall naval commander and there should never be more than one. Those who gain this title are awarded gold braid epaulettes and five stars on their collars, and were additionally named personal military advisor to Luna herself.

V. Royal Guard

The Royal Guard has separate awards for the Armored and Plainclothes Security Divisions, though they tend to be rarely seen, both because Guardspony forays into combat are generally few and in the case of the PSD, because plainclothes mares are rarely seen in formal uniform.

Royal Guard Combat Awards in reverse order of precedence:

Note that with the exception of the Guardian Garnet and Ruby of Honor, when an Armored Guardspony or PSD mare takes part in combat under the auspices of another armed service, they get that service’s award but not the Guardspony one, which is reserved for Guardspony-specific actions. Since Firefly got the Aerial Corps Sapphire Star for her engagement with Gryphon Ravens, she was not given an equivalent Guard award. Since very little combat action takes place by the Guard alone, the Guardspony combat medals are rarely seen.

A. Guardian Garnet

Awarded to Guardsponies who see combat on a deployment with the Army or Aerial Corps. Closest Armored Guard equivalent to the Corps Wing Warrior or Army Emerald Arrow medals.

B. Guardian Goldstone

The first-level Guardspony battle decoration consists of a small goldstone inscribed with wingblades, spear or longbow depending on the tribe of the recipient. “To be given for impressive acts of bravery and battlefield skill that exceed even the Guardspony norm.”

C. Guardian Ruby

The second-level of Guardspony battle decoration consists of a medium red ruby inscribed with wingblades, spear or longbow depending on the tribe of the recipient. “To be awarded for astonishing acts of courage and combat prowess far exceeding that of ordinary Guardsponies in service to Princess and Province.”

D. Ruby of Honor

The third and highest level of Guardspony battle decoration is a large red ruby inscribed with the Royal Guard Emblem hanging from a gold ribbon. It is the Armored Guard equivalent to the Corps Sapphire Sentinel and Army Diamond Defender medals, but unlike them, may also be awarded concurrent with the Defender of Harmony medal. Highest combat award the Guard has, and one not seen in a century: “To be awarded for only the most incredible feats of battlefield skill and valor, displays of such daring and devotion to duty as to be remembered and immortalized for all time.” In the entire thousand-year history of the Royal Guard, only eight have ever been given. You earn this award, you’ll get a large sculpture in your honor at the Royal Guard training base of Fort Spur.

Other Royal Guardspony Awards:

A. Celestial Guard

Not a medal but a position; these are the Armored Guardsponies chosen to specifically attend to Princess Celestia herself. They wear Gold-plated armor and are considered the best of the best; their formal uniforms are burgundy with gold trim as opposed to the silver of the regular Armored Guard. Being chosen for this position is considered by many to be one of the highest honors in the entire military, short of receiving the Defender of Harmony medal itself.

B. Call of Duty Diamond

Medium-sized shield-shaped diamond hanging from a red ribbon with silver stripes. Awarded to Guardsponies who see combat while off-duty and/or unattached to the Army or the Corps. This is a rare medal indeed, and those who earn it typically have quite the tale to tell, as these elite soldiers have combat training that makes them lethal even without their armor. “Awarded for actions taking place outside of normal duty, for engaging in combat without arms or armor.”

C. Pendant of Perseverance

A ruby and sapphire/emerald medal given to Armored Guardsponies or PSD mares who are attached to an Army or Corps base or division for a period exceeding twelve months. The second gem depends on the branch in question; sapphire for the Corps and emerald for the Army. There is supposedly a Navy variant, with a moonstone as the second gem, but such a medal has not been awarded in some time.

Plainclothes Security Division Awards

The PSD does not give medals, but citations and other items. A few awards result in the right to wear certain items on formal uniform dress, but formal uniform dress is rarely seen.

A. Silver Stiletto

Silver-plated standard-issue throwing stiletto, given for thwarting an attack or assassination attempt. Such attempts are rare, but do happen. Awardees may wear a blade-inscribed collar button when in uniform.

B. Emerald Edge

Emerald-hilted blade given to mares that complete the advanced threat detection, bodyguard and blade-wielding courses that go well beyond standard PSD training. Originally called the “Assassin’s Edge” because this course is also used to train EIS agents. The unspoken truth is that those who complete this course are not only able to thwart assassins, but become them, and are readily recruited by the EIS. Master Sergeant Tulip Vale is such a pony.

C. Celestial Citation

A gold citation scroll imprinted with Celestia’s seal and containing the personal thanks of the royals. Given to PSD agents upon retirement who, during their career, were assigned directly to the protection of the Prince or Princess. Not given until after their active duty is complete, since their identities have to remain secret in the meantime.

Author's Note

The ideas for this bonus chapter had been bouncing around my head for some time. More than just the awards though, this got me thinking about the overall services and what their general philosophy would be; how it would reflect either their tribe or the princess who sponsored them. Naturally, I reserve the right to modify or add to this list as the story is written, and I'm probably going to go back and retcon a couple chapters to show these awards on various ponies, with Sundiver wearing his Wing Commander award when Firefly first arrives at Epsilon to Tulip Vale showing an Emerald Edge collar insignia.

The usual thanks go to the usual suspects of SilentWoodFire, AJ_Aficionado, TheGoldCrow and Denim_Blue for the preread as well as to Leo Archon for adding a couple awards of his own. Story resumes with the next chapter, but this seemed a good place for a bonus chapter. If I ever turn this into a book, expect that the bonus chapters will be moved, turned into a series of story appendices.

Appendix E: Rank and Force Structure of the Equestrian and Gryphon Militaries

Though all the Equestrian service branches use similar ranks except for the Navy, their structure is not unified and joint chains of command can be difficult to determine. A Captain for the Corps is much higher than one for the Army, for example, and the only General the Corps has is its commanding officer while there are several grades of it in the Army, commanding brigades on up.

Equestrian Army:

The Equestrian Army is officer-heavy compared to the other services, and takes up nearly 2/3rds of the available student slots of the Equestrian Officer Academy, which is fair given that it is the largest Equestrian service branch by far. Senior enlisted are expected to enter the Academy at some point in their careers and the Army leadership prefer officers commanding units above platoon, but in practicality, only about a third to half have them. This leads to awkward situations where senior enlisted are outranked by officers commanding units beneath them, yet still have authority over them by virtue of commanding the higher unit. Duels are only too common for this.

The Army would prefer to address this by having senior enlisted as assistants to officers but the Equestrian Officer Academy is simply not able to train all needed, and the other services would say that the army is too liberal with officer appointments and there are not enough deserving candidates anyway.

Given its large size, there has been some discussion of the Army setting up its own separate Academy on the grounds of an existing tactical school called Sunset Pointe for the express purpose of training its officers, but thus far the other services have balked and the Princess has not approved such a request, fearing the Army would become even more insular if she allowed it and the other services would follow suit.

Ranks and Units

Current contingency plans for war with the gryphons call for not increasing the number of units but rather, unit size from brigades on up, in effect doubling the Equestrian Army’s effective strength.

Militia

The Equestrian earth pony militia generally uses army ranks, though there are exceptions there as well, such as the Trottingham militia. Outside of Trottingham, the Earth Pony militia is casually detested by the regular Army for being at best half-trained and motivated. In the event of war, militia ponies would be drafted first but also treated as little better than raw recruits for it.

Equestrian Aerial Corps:

The Aerial Corps has fewer ranks, fewer officers and is more stringent in its chain of command than the Army, though there is wiggle room there as well. Battalions can be commanded by First Lieutenants all the way down to SFCs. The Corps also has the odd rule where all assigned to a base are subordinate to the base commander regardless of rank; this has likewise led to more than a few duels and disruptions of discipline in the past.

The Corps also has a curious dual-track officer system, differentiating between base and unit command above the battalion/outpost level. Captains command divisions but Majors and Colonels command the larger installations they work out of. It is believed this division of responsibility allows unit commanders to focus on training and combat while the base commander handles housing, supply and logistics; as an example, Captain Sirocco commands the 5th division but Outpost Gamma itself is in fact run by Colonel Contrail. There is also only one General in the Corps at any given point—the Corps Commander. In order to make that rank, you have to spend time as both a base and division commander so you know all areas of the Corps.

Ranks and Units

The following is an idealized rank chart, but in practice, there is considerable variation in who commands what on a given border base or unit. At Outpost Omega, which consists entirely of veterans, everypony tends to be higher ranked and thus have a lower level of authority than they typically would elsewhere.

*The Corps will grant a higher starting rank to particularly gifted trainees; about a quarter are named PFCs and given immediate command of a flight while about 5% make Corporal and become new squad leaders. The Corps also has the philosophy that if you train together, you should fight together, so new squads are, as much as possible, drawn from the ranks of the same training company.

In the event of a prolonged large-scale war, contingency plans exist to double the size of the Corps to nearly 30,000 pegasi, giving it the strength of six Gryphon legions. Much like the army, this would be accomplished by increasing the size of existing units above platoon level. Companies would increase from two platoons to three, and battalions from two companies to four, thus tripling their effective strength. Corps battalions participating in the Phoenix Fire operation were reinforced to wartime strength by taking platoons from other Corps Divisions, but reinforcing the entire Corps would take months of training and establishment of additional training bases.

Weather Teams

Weather platoons function as the Aerial Corps artillery arm, a force multiplier used to defend friendly bases and reduce hostile ones. One weather platoon typically consisting of 2-3 weather teams is attached to every outpost as they excel at static defense. They are much harder to use offensively, however, as weather team members must keep the clouds still while firing them, attracting mage attacks and crossbow bolts. They require air supremacy or the protection of regular Corps soldiers to safely use on the attack. Each weather team is built as follows:

Roles may rotate between team members during drills, but typically the only way the ‘gunner’ gets replaced is if he or she is killed.

Pegasi Militia

The 5,000 strong Pegasus Militia of Cloudsdale uses old ranks and tactics dating back to Imperial times, using the classic Aerial Phalanx to fight. In times of war they would be folded into the Aerial Corps, which is a prospect that does not generally please Corps soldiers. Though decently trained in their archaic tactics—ones the Corps feels are badly obsolete—neither they nor their equipment are up to Aerial Corps standards and would require extensive retraining before they could fight effectively as part of the Corps. Despite that, their primary duty is to guard Cloudsdale, and their sheer numbers would make any attack on the great city a very costly affair.

*Denotes an officer rank.

Royal Guard

Whether the Armored Guard or Plainclothes Security Division, the Royal Guard is almost entirely enlisted. Officers are few and there are only two graduated from the Equestrian Officer Academy every year; typically one for the Armored Division and one for the PSD. They command garrisons as well as installations; the highest rank of the Guard is Captain.

Armored Guardspony officers and promising young NCOs like Firefly are often seconded to other services to give them seasoning outside of Canterlot. Conversely, PSD agents often get ‘borrowed’ by the EIS to conduct “Temporary Additional Duty”—domestic surveillance or counterintelligence ops that do not require the services of the Black Lances.

Ranks and Units for the Armored Guard (PSD numbers are classified!)

*Like the Corps, the Royal Guard can give graduating recruits a higher starting rank ranging from Private First Class all the way up to Sergeant, though the latter is exceedingly rare. Also, when an existing soldier from another service transfers to the Guard, they are initially stripped of their rank but often returned an equivalent Guard one upon graduation. There are no exceptions to this, not even for highly decorated soldiers.

As an example, Windshear entered the guard a Sky Sergeant of the Corps, was then reduced in rank to recruit, but was named a First Sergeant of the Guard upon graduation, which was the equivalent Guard rank. This is not automatic, however; the Guard requires you demonstrate you deserve such treatment otherwise they will happily leave you with a reduced rank.

Royal Navy

The Royal Navy has a very unique rank system that dates back to the time of the Celestial War, harkening back to the days when Luna’s signature service assigned titles instead of ranks. Promotions are given too readily but Celestia limits them to only a dozen officers per airship outside of pegasi and transport squadrons to prevent nobles from simply buying their rank and titles.

Reforms have been instituted by Admiral Coral Torch in an effort to make the Navy viable again, but three hundred years of only ceremonial service have taken their toll. Battle Group leaders are given a great deal of autonomy in how they run their ships, meaning that some groups are better trained or disciplined than others.

The Navy also has no less than three rank advancement tracks: Airship Combatants, Airship Transports and Pegasus Squadrons. By tradition, those who pilot transports or belong to pegasus attack squadrons are automatically given officer ranks upon graduation from their respective training. This causes no small of resentment along the enlisted, since they’re the ones that have to keep the airships flightworthy while the Naval Pegasi, who often draw their ranks from the nobles and Cloudsdale well-to-do, tend to look down on the enlisted ranks. Unicorns pilot the transports and tend to be nicer about it, but they, too, chafe at being used as a glorified ferry service.

Gryphon Military

The experienced and well-trained Gryphon Imperial Military has a fully unified command structure across all services with the sole exception of the Paladins, which use an archaic rank structure dating back to ancient times. This enables joint chains of command to be set quite readily and eases the use of the combined arms warfare that the Gryphons favor and excel at.

The Gryphons also have fewer formations than the ponies—they do not have a concept of a battalion, for example—and, although there are some instances of lower ranks being assigned to a higher post in absence of a suitably ranked commander, you will never find any higher ranks subordinated to a lower one in the Imperial Military. They also have fewer enlisted ranks.

Rank Advancement

Gryphon rank advancement can happen either through meritorious service or by winning a duel with a higher-ranked opponent, in which case you gain their rank and armor. There are limits to this, however—warriors cannot generally challenge any more than one rank above themselves else they will lack the training and qualifications of their new post, and all challenges must be approved by a higher rank in the same chain of command. In practice, what this means is that the higher rank you obtain, the greater a warrior you were. Upon promotion to certain ranks, you are required by the Empire to attend a training class or tactical school suitable for your new responsibilities. The sole exception for this is battlefield promotion, as war is the greatest teacher of all.

Enlisted ranks in Black, Officer ranks in Dark Red.

Equestrian vs. Gryphon Military

What follows is a VERY rough equivalent of ranks and units between the Equestrian and Gryphon militaries excepting the Royal Navy. Gryphon ranks are unified between their services and thus apply regardless of service branch. Note that the list of Gryphon ranks is NOT exhaustive!

Author's Note

A half-draft of this had been sitting around since summer but I’ve only just now finished it. I actually meant to release this as part of the Into the Storm: The Rise of Firefly launch, but time got away from me and I lost interest for a while until the story got unexpectedly reviewed last week and was dinged on rank issues. This is meant to explain the apparent discrepancies between what ranks should mean in modern terms and their inconsistent usage in the story. The main upshot is that the Equestrian services have gotten too insular over the years to the point they don’t really have a unified rank structure any longer. Captains command companies in the Equestrian Army, entire divisions in the Equestrian Aerial Corps, and an entire service in the case of the Royal Guard. And yes, this will be be the cause of some issues going forward and will have to be addressed before the services can truly start to cooperate against the Imperial invasion.

Thanks to the usual prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, Leo Archon and Denim_Blue. Other retcons are in progress but I’ll detail those in a blog later. The included charts were made in Excel but had to be imported as pictures to show up since the fimfiction editor doesn’t currently have any table functions. If the writing seems too small, just click the pictures to make them show up bigger.

Part 1 - Prologue

To you who now read this, know that the writing of this story was not Firefly’s idea. It was requested by me, so that all who fought and died on both sides of the Great Pony/Gryphon War would not be forgotten. Know also that even though it will tell of many fights and battles, this is less a tale of valor and glory than the enduring and unconquerable power of friendship.

To truly understand it, you must leave the peaceful era of the present and go back to a troubled time in Equestria’s existence; a time when the hold of Harmony was far weaker and a still-young Equestrian nation faced many potential threats. It was a time when magical elements could not be wielded; a time when matters between races were too often settled not with words and diplomacy, but with steel and sorcery...

A time when one young mare took her fate by the reins, embarking on a journey whose legacy would long outlive her. And yet, for all her medals and honors, and for all her feats and victories, she would not wish to be remembered as a soldier, a leader, or even a warrior.

She would wish to be remembered as a mother, a sister… and a very beloved friend.

Signed,

Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria

Sergeant Bone Deep, the recruiter for the Royal Guard, stared at me for several seconds like I had sprouted a second pair of wings. “I apologize, miss, but... methinks I misheard you. Perchance you couldst repeat yourself?”

I sighed, exasperated with the stallion’s confusion. It had been amusing at first, but the novelty expired quickly. “For the third and final time, Sergeant, I wish to join the armored division of the Royal Guard, not the plainclothes security.”

The unicorn sergeant sighed and massaged his temple; he looked like he was beginning to have a headache. “Miss, my sincerest apologies, but there are rules and regulations regarding where mare and stallion recruits are sent—”

“—Nary a one of which specifically says that all mares must be plainclothes security,” I interrupted smoothly, having anticipated the question from the start. The Sergeant was right in that most stallions who sought the Guard joined the armored division, while mares underwent separate training that, though intense, would leave them little more than glorified servants to the Celestial Palace and lesser nobles, maids and attendants whose jobs it would be to stop assassins and who would only don actual uniforms for ceremonies or battle armor in times of war. “’Tis certain I have done enough research in preparation for this to know for a fact that there is no rule or regulation that prohibits mares from donning Guardspony armor!” I slammed a hoof down on the table in front of him for emphasis.

Bone Deep blinked. He hadn’t expected such a forceful response, apparently. “W-well, regardless, ’tis highly irregular for a mare to—”

“Irregular though it may be,” I broke in again, “change has to start somewhere, and ’tis not something to be feared. If I do not do this, ’tis certain that someday, somepony else will. I wish it to be me!”

I could tell I was wearing him down as he tried one last time to protest. “But ’tis against tradition—”

“Traditions can and do change,” I said over him, letting some of my anger leak into my voice at his continued obstinacy. I knew I’d likely have to deal with it, but I expected far better arguments than these. “Tradition does not make things wrong or right, Sergeant. What was traditional yesterday could be out of date today. For example—” I let my voice fall flatter than a piece of unleavened bread “—’twas once traditional for unicorns and pegasi to rob earth ponies of the lion’s share of their harvest.”

He flinched. The comparison to the tale of the Hearth’s Warming had hit home, it seemed. “V-very well, miss. Since you are so insistent and know the rules so well, I shall have the papers readied and sent to the appropriate officers for approval.” He steadied himself, taking a deep breath, trying to still his twitching tail. “Methinks it necessary to warn you, however—even if they approve your application, ‘tis certain you will not have an easy time of it. The Armored Guard is a proud group who do not take kindly to those they see as interlopers. And you will be in for it from the start—the Sergeant Major in charge of pegasus training is hard on everypony, especially those who stand out. And ‘tis certain you will stand out, Miss…?”

I laughed merrily, flaring my wings in a boastful display born of all the pride and arrogance of youth, answering with the cocky certainty of a mare who knew not yet what she faced. “Methinks I’ve overcome enough hardships in my life to not be afraid of one more, Sergeant Bone Deep! I will pass all tests and become the first mare to enter the Armored Guard, or my name is not Firefly!”

Author's Note

Welcome, one and all! For those who are curious, Firefly first appeared in part 65 of the Turnabout Storm novelization channeled by Maya Fey (no, really), and later in chapter 11 of The Lawyer and the Unicorn. This is in some ways a continuation of the latter, which I will not link because the story is M-rated. If you wish to read it, it is available through my story page.

We emphasize it is NOT necessary to read Turnabout Storm or The Lawyer and the Unicorn to read this. Though it nominally takes place in the Turnabout Storm universe, it can be enjoyed as a standalone story; a sword-and-sorcery tale of a dark time in Equestria's past. Enjoy!

--Firesight and Leo Archon

UPDATE: Musical selections have been salted throughout the chapters. You'll see them as centered section headers in the usual Green URL text. There's one that starts the story below. They're for ambiance; you can listen to them or not as you see fit. Thanks go to James CyberLink for selecting the bulk of them.

Part 6 - Outpost Epsilon

There were many firsts in my life. My first words, my first flight, my first duel… and much further in the future, my first kiss, lover and foal. Before then, I would have to deal with my first deployment and the promise of my first real action.

’Twould be a lie to say I wasn’t eager. For when the time came, I sought all my firsts eagerly, seeing them as a mark of maturity, relishing each new experience I had…

Save for one I was dreading.

Full Metal Saddle

Fort Spur was a beehive of activity the following morning, with the next wave of recruits due that very day. As had happened to me six months earlier, three new companies were scheduled to be inducted at 1600… and would soon be facing a very real ordeal that would test both body and spirit and ultimately break many, sending nearly three-quarters home, unable to keep up mentally or physically with the harsh training regime.

My flight carriage not scheduled to depart until 1800, I was there to see the new recruit class admitted through the front gates and was invited to observe as the screaming began. Windshear was in fine form right off the bat, marching through the pegasus ranks and actively berating each recruit in turn for their appearance or some trivial slight, alternately questioning their breeding, cutie marks and very virility… memorably asking one particularly cocky and sassy recruit if he’d paid a mare to bear his foal.

That earned an immediate challenge… which lasted all of three seconds and sent the first recruit washout to the infirmary with a severe concussion from a simple headbutt, many of the remaining recruits now looking upon the Sergeant Major in very real fear.

Acting like nothing had happened, Windshear picked up right where he left off, getting in the face of each new stallion in turn, just as he’d done with me my first day. Perchance ’twas only fitting, then, that once he finished chewing out the entire company for being useless and hopeless, he motioned me forward.

“Take a good look, recruits!” he yelled. “This is what a Guardspony is! She is what you aspire to be!” he announced as the recruits openly gaped at me, a mare in their midst. “But ‘tis certain you sorry excuses for stallions will never make it! Methinks you’ll never be half the pony she is, either in the Guard or out of it!”

At that moment, one recruit announced audibly under his breath that he’d tucked uglier-looking tails than mine, to the snickers of his neighbors.

Windshear’s ears flicked. “Who said that? Who the buck said that?!” he thundered, silencing the stifled laughs. “Who’s the slack-jawed sorry piece of hen-humping gryphonbait that just signed his own death warrant?!” he asked as he stalked back down the line, his wings flared in only half-feigned anger. When nopony replied, he got creative. “Nopony, eh? The bucking Tooth Breezy said it? I’ll work you all until you break! I’ll fly you all until you bucking die! Was it you?” he then snarled in the face of one hapless recruit.

“Sir, n-no sir!” The wide-eyed stallion replied in a trembling voice. With his fragile psyche and softer physique, I gave him two weeks at most before he quit.

“Sir, ‘twas me, sir!” a second, more solid-looking stallion next to him said, this one orange-furred with a dark blue mane and a shield-on-cloud cutie mark, drawing himself up straighter as the Sergeant Major drew near.

“Well, whaddaya know…” Windshear almost sounded impressed as he sidled over, going nose to nose with the newcomer. “And your name, gryphonbait?”

“Sir, Sky Sentry, sir!” he proclaimed proudly and almost without fear.

“Horseapples! Since you seem to think yourself a comedian, from now on your name’s Recruit Jester!” Windshear snapped. “At any rate, I appreciate your honesty! Hay, methinks I even like you! Methinks I’ll take you back to my place so you can tuck my daughter!” With that, he delivered a vicious blow to the newly-dubbed Jester’s barrel, causing him to nearly collapse.

Before training, such a casual assault on a stallion might have given me pause, but now I barely batted an eye. In fact, as entertaining and enlightening as it was to watch a master trainer at work, I wanted to make an impression of my own. “Sergeant Major!” I called out. “With your permission, I would like a moment with Recruit Jester here.”

Somewhat startled, Windshear looked back at me, then smiled. “The floor is yours, Sergeant. Just try not to kill our newest comedian.”

Stifling a grin, I put on my sternest, meanest look—and believe me, I’d gained a good one over the course of my training—and marched up to a still-shaky Jester, glaring at him. “So, Recruit Jester…” I began ominously. “Wouldst you care to repeat your last line?”

“N-no, milady!” he replied through gritted teeth, trying to bite back his pain.

I wasn’t about to let him off that easily, leaning in closer, my eyes narrowing. “Do I look like a noblepony to you? It’s ma’am. And perchance I misheard you. Didst you say, and I quote, that you hadst ‘tucked uglier tails’ than mine?”

He swallowed hard, but to his credit, he owned up. “Ma’am… y-yes ma’am!”

I held my glare for a beat longer. “Well then, Recruit Jester… since you saw fit to judge my flank, ’tis only fair I return the favor!” With that, I marched around behind him, ordered him to flag his tail… and proceeded to give a very harsh inspection of his anatomy, pointing out every flaw and wrinkle I could spot, questioning very loudly and floridly how such an inferior pair of apples had ever sired foals.

I couldn’t see his face, but I could all but feel the heat coming off his cheeks. When despite that he began to get visibly antsy and aroused under my scrutiny, his wings twitching and threatening to go erect, I ended his excitement quickly by suggesting that, for his disrespect, perchance I should simply relieve him of his malehood entirely so there could be a second mare in the guard!

Giggles erupted all over the company; even Windshear had to stifle a laugh as Jester broke out in a very nervous sweat.

’Twould be a lie to say I wasn’t enjoying myself. In truth, ’twas rather fun being on the other side of recruit training, making a stallion squirm. Despite that, he had actually passed his test with me as I walked back around to face him. His attitude and assertiveness reminded me of myself, and perchance some of Windshear’s ability to spot Guardsponies in the making had rubbed off on me as I sensed this one had some potential. Nevertheless, I only gave him a fifty percent chance of completing training. Or perchance the odds would be increased if…

I got very close to his face as I said my next words. “Listen and listen well, Recruit Jester. The only way you have even the slightest chance to tuck this tail is if you complete basic training and graduate at least a Corporal. Is that understood?”

He gaped at me, struggling to hold his attention pose, fear warring with excitement as his pain and embarrassment were instantly forgotten. “Ma’am! Yes ma’am!” he shouted as forcefully as he could.

“Bully,” With that, I stepped away, walking past Windshear, who was looking askance at me, a bemused look in his eyes. “Thank you for your indulgence, Sergeant Major,” I nodded at him as I trotted off, a twinkle in my eye.

For just a moment, he twinkled back before returning his attention to his newest recruit company, passing out more nicknames before proceeding to chew out Jester for ten straight minutes.

* * * * *

The new recruits had been marched off to the barber and dye shops by the time evening fell. I would have loved to have seen the looks on their faces as they were all colored grey and shorn of their manes and the better part of their tails, but my flight would be leaving soon.

Leaving a parting note for Windshear thanking him for all he had done for me, at 1800 sharp I arrived at the fort’s loading dock for airborne chariots and carriages, used for long-distance travel—the average pegasus could fly fifty miles easily, but five hundred was too much even for well-conditioned Guardsponies.

The only vehicle there was a unicorn-driven flying carriage, big enough for fifteen ponies to fit comfortably. It was decked out in Equestrian Aerial Corps colors, sky blue and white in marked contrast to the silver, red and gold of the Royal Guard, using the same vehicular flight magic to travel through the air that was found on Royal Navy airships—and appropriately, the unicorn driver wore the indigo fur dye and white uniform of the navy. “Sergeant Firefly? Welcome. You’re right on time,” the Airedale mare acknowledged after a quick scan of my orders. “Get in and we’ll be underway shortly.”

I nodded and stepped into the carriage, laying a rucksack at my side. As it took off, I took a seat and glanced around, for I wasn’t alone. With me was a thirteen-pony squad of the Aerial Corps. As was typical for such a squad, most were mares and all but one bore the rank of Private or PFC, with that one being a single corporal as squad leader. Many of them seemed nervous, perchance because they knew they were bound for the Gryphon frontier. I kept to myself, but I carefully evaluated each member of the squad as best as I could with sight alone. I could see that all of them were your average, fresh-out-of-training ‘hatchlings’, as I knew the veteran corps pegasi called them. It made me wonder about why they were, like me, being deployed to a border outpost so quickly.

My scrutiny stopped when I came to the squad’s leader, a blue-eyed mare. She was, as was standard for all lower-ranking Aerial Corps pegasi, dyed cloud-white. Her sky-blue pleather combat uniform was well-maintained, her silver corporal stripes highly visible on her shoulders. But what drew my attention was when she turned to look at me and I saw the patch over her left eye. It wasn’t decorative, as some ponies were wont to use. ’Twas a fully-functional patch, designed to completely obscure the eye.

I initially wanted to avoid saying anything, for fear of offense, but I remembered Windshear’s words; the Aerial Corps was Equestria’s most experienced service. And if I was going to be working with them, perchance it would be best to get to know them. So I cleared my throat. “Forgive me for asking, but methinks you’ve seen action already, Corporal?”

The rest of the squad jumped; apparently, they hadn’t expected me to break the silence that had been in the carriage for the past several hours. I was just starting my journey, but they had been traveling all day—the Aerial Corps training base of Fort Stratus was located on the other side of Equestria, well away from the Gryphons. The corporal, however, simply smiled. “If you’re talking about the eye, then no. That wasn’t a gryphon’s doing.” She reached up and removed the patch, revealing the perfectly unblemished skin and eyelid beneath. My confusion persisted, until she opened her eye to reveal a milky-white orb.

To my credit, my reaction was limited to a mere widening of my own eyes. More so than the other pony tribes, pegasi are reliant upon keen vision. Especially when flying at high speeds through obstacle courses, we need our depth perception to navigate close quarters and reduce the likelihood of crashing. This mare had apparently been born blind in one eye, so she had no depth perception and yet… here she was. For her to achieve the rank of Corporal with such a disability… I found myself thinking that this was a mare I could respect.

As if reading my thoughts, she glanced at me with her working eye. “Huh. Most ponies, like these hatchlings, usually say something when they see this.” At her words, the rest of the squad looked away, abashed. Apparently, they’d all made foals of themselves when first meeting her.

I snorted at that. “Corporal, methinks if they knew half of what they should know about basic pegasus functionality, they’d applaud you for getting this far with such a… disadvantage.”

She blinked, then grinned. “You hear that, hatchlings?! That’s what I want to hear! I didn’t bust my flank at Fort Stratus to achieve Corporal, just so I could be poked fun at!” she barked at her squad. Her subordinates ducked their heads as she turned back to me, replacing the patch over her eye as she did so. “Corporal Blindside, Equestrian Aerial Corps,” she introduced herself, offering her hoof to me.

I smiled, and bumped her hoof with my own. “Sergeant Firefly, Royal Guard.”

Her one visible eye widened. “Ah, so you’re the ‘upstart mare’ who has half the Guard frothing at the mouth.” At my surprised look, she chuckled. “Word travels fast along the wind, Sergeant. Even in the Aerial Corps, we’ve heard about what you’ve accomplished. Though I’m not sure how much of what we’ve been told is the truth…”

She gave me a sideways look before speaking again. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, but ‘tis hard to believe you bested Sergeant Major Windshear in single combat. His reputation in the Corps is legendary. They even named a training field in his honor back at Fort Stratus.”

I grinned—I hadn’t heard that, but wasn’t surprised at all. “Methinks you can be forgiven for doubting. But the story is true. Captain Typhoon himself witnessed our duel and pronounced me the winner after I put my blade at Windshear’s throat.”

The rest of the squad gaped at me, and Blindside was doing her best not to do the same. “You bested a Wing Warrior and Defender of Harmony awardee in single combat? Huzzah! ‘Tis no wonder you made Sergeant right out of basic training!” she shook her head, visibly impressed.

I leaned back, a cocky smile on my face. “’Twas a surprise to me too—as was the fact that the rest of my fellow graduates sought to buy me drinks afterward. Though ‘tis also true that many in the guard were left ‘frothing at the mouth’ as you say. I was challenged by three veteran Guardsponies the very night I graduated. I won, though in truth, ‘twas not much of an accomplishment. Methinks they were all drunk on cheap horse piss.” I couldn’t resist a dig at the Drunken Rat, arguably the worst pub in town, suddenly wondering if any alcohol would be available on the frontier.

At the request of the now-attentive squad, I recounted the entire duel with Shadowslash and his two friends. By the time I finished, they were all looking at me in awe. “Well then, methinks it’s an honor to meet you, Sergeant Firefly,” she bumped my hoof again, and the rest of her squadmates did the same as Celestia’s sun began heading for the horizon, dusk falling over Equestria.

“We look forward to serving with you at Outpost Epsilon.”

Frontier Firebase

Night had fallen by the time we landed at the outpost. I was the first pony out of the carriage; ’twas only appropriate as I was the highest-ranking.

Seen under Luna’s light, the outpost itself was, something to my surprise, a small base consisting of a simple series of ground structures with a single large watchtower in the center, perched on a rugged, rock-jumbled cliff edge overlooking a large canyon. Aside from the tower, there was a barracks, an armory, a mess hall, a headquarters bunker and at least two training fields. On the other hoof, there were no cloud perches—as they were almost impossible to maintain in the face of strong winds blowing out of the north and east, I later learned—whilst the buildings themselves were made of wood and stone and generally camouflaged against the canyon lip in a far cry from the brightly-colored structures ponies usually favored. The approaches were kept clear of already-sparse vegetation and I presumed protected with magical tripwires that could detect both air and ground intrusions.

As I waited for Blindside’s squad to disembark, I noticed an older pegasus stallion approaching. Unlike most of the Aerial Corps, he wasn’t dyed white; rather, he had his natural fur color of a brilliant orange, so brilliant I thought I might go blind looking at him even in the dim light of firestones. His mane was bright gold and close-cropped like all Corps soldiers, his cutie mark that of a diving pegasus silhouetted against the sun. Instead of flight armor, he was clad in a dark blue Aerial Corps dress uniform, and my eyes were drawn immediately to the single silver vertical bar on his shoulders—the signifying mark of a First Lieutenant.

Seeing that, I immediately snapped to attention. “Officer on deck!” I barked and snapped a salute. The hatchling squad, having been milling about, fell into line beside me and saluted as well.

“At ease,” the stallion said, returning the salute. His voice was calm, cool, and collected. It was a sharp contrast to the bombastic nature of Windshear and other basic training instructors yet he had the same effect; all of our eyes were on him from the moment he opened his mouth, his powerful presence and air of authority commanding our attention immediately. “I am First Lieutenant Sundiver, commanding officer here at Border Outpost Epsilon. Welcome to, if not the front line, then as close as you’ll get for the time being.”

He paced in front of us, every movement measured and even. “Some of you may question the decision to have you hatchlings assigned to a border outpost this soon. Well, Outpost Epsilon is not your average border base. We’re a bit out of the way, not on the beaten path, which means we’re not a hotly-contested region. The most we’ll see is a rare raiding party now and again… which makes it the ideal place for new Corps pegasi to get some seasoning.

“I’m proud to say that during my ten years here at Outpost Epsilon, we have not lost a single pony to enemy action.” He paused briefly. “I shan’t have to mention that we’ve not lost a single pony to friendly action either.” Resuming his pace, he continued, “The key to our success, in addition to our position, is that I make sure you know what you’re getting into.” He looked us over, then settled his eyes on me. “Sergeant Firefly!”

I didn’t hesitate, stepping forward and saluting. “Reporting, sir!”

“Word of your exploits has preceded you,” he said without preamble, returning the gesture promptly, “and you have apparently caught the attention of Captain Typhoon himself. But perchance you are under any illusions, know that being the first armored Guardsmare gives you no leeway with me. Your prior accomplishments carry no weight here; you will be treated the same as any other pony of your rank. That said, as you are currently the second-highest ranked pony here, you will be acting as my second-in-command during your stay.”

I fought the urge to blanch or cheer; I wasn’t quite sure which was stronger. “Sir? Why do you not have a dedicated second-in-command?”

He smiled. “Because whilst they are here to learn how to fight,” he nodded to the incoming squad, “you, as a Guardspony Sergeant,are here to learn how to properly lead. And grooming new leaders has been something of a specialty of mine. I’ve been here for ten years; I know how everything works and will in turn impart that knowledge to you. Your duties will at first entail simply following me around and obeying my instructions, same as any other pony, but in the process you will observe how I run the base, and thus learn what it is to command.” He paused again, seeing my uncertain look. “’Tis quite clear, Sergeant, that you already know how to fight given the duels you’ve won. As such, the emphasis of your training will be how to lead others; how to direct squads and flight elements rather than fight on your own.”

I nodded slowly. So Captain Typhoon was indeed not sending me here as a form of exile, he was actively grooming me for command! “Aye-aye, sir!” I made a point of giving the standard Corps acknowledgment of an order.

He glanced at the horizon, where the last vestiges of Celestia’s light were fading away into a sea of stars. “But that will all come tomorrow. Methinks you’ve all had a long day, so I’ll show you to the barracks this once,” he promised, but not before passing me a series of scrolls. “Here’s everything you need to know about the base. I expect you to be able to relay relevant information to the rest of this squad, Sergeant.” He turned around. “Follow me, everypony! Tonight you sleep, and tomorrow, your lessons begin!”

I, along with Blindside’s entire squad, blinked. Lessons? was the unspoken question passing along with glances between us.

* * * * *

Lessons indeed. Much to our surprise, and no little disappointment on my part, neither I nor my new squadmates were sent out on patrol right away. Instead, Sundiver had us in briefings, classes, and training drills for the better part of the first two weeks, teaching his newest squad how to fly and fight together… and his newest Sergeant how to lead them.

Though we had all learned how gryphons fought at our respective basic training, this took it to a whole new level. We were taught their ranks and services, uniform and unit recognition, their favorite formations, weapons and tactics, how to defend against both ground and air incursions, and the difference between the faster, higher-flying sky gryphons that had grown up in the harsh northern mountains of their homeland versus the plains-dwelling earth gryphons of the southern grasslands. Whilst the sleek-bodied former had great flight stamina, able to fly several hundred miles at a time at higher altitudes and harsher conditions than most pegasi, the latter could only fly a few dozen leagues but were larger and possessed strength nearly the equal of earth ponies, able to wield heavy weapons like massive shields and war hammers with ease.

All in all, it painted an ominous picture, one Sundiver drilled repeatedly into our heads: “Methinks this cannot be said enough—they are disciplined, determined foes, they have warrior heritage the equal of pegasi, they see ponies as prey, and if you show any weakness to them, they will hunt you down without hesitation or mercy,” he warned us repeatedly, going on to detail several favorite ruses they used to lure ponies into ambushes… and what they sometimes did to their captives.

It turned my stomach at the thought they might eat us, but certainly drove home that we were dealing with predators and meat-eaters—that there were certainly places in this world where harmony had no hold.

After living my entire life being responsible for little except myself, leadership was a new experience for me, and one I was admittedly very uncertain about to start. I had learned single combat quite well, certainly, but as Sundiver had made abundantly clear, being a sergeant I became responsible for many, not just myself. It was only then I understood that rank meant real responsibility, and not just the right to give orders and torment an incoming recruit class.

As I followed him around, I also started to understand how much leadership meant not just giving orders, but inspiring confidence in others, both in themselves and their commanders. A compliment and kind word had their place when a pony merited it, but so did criticism and punishment, which Sundiver did not hesitate to mete out when a pony failed to meet expectations. Even I ended up on the receiving end more than once when I didn’t get a training field ready in time or simply didn’t get reports written to his satisfaction. It was, as animal trainers might say, a ‘carrot and stick’ approach to leadership, a tried-and-true method that worked well.

Over time, he began giving me more responsibility as I understood more about how the base worked, everything from simple report writing to training new arrivals. An eighty-pegasus outpost nestled in a rocky crag overlooking a canyon that marked the furthest western fringe of the Gryphon/Equestrian border, it was indeed a place with comparatively little action, somewhat to my frustration after weeks of fruitless patrols where the most I ever saw of the gryphons were some shed feathers on the valley floor. But I had certainly settled into my role as Sundiver’s second, and found myself mildly amazed at it.

Wonder what Wind Whistler would think if she could see me now? I asked myself with a grin, resolving to write her again at the earliest opportunity.

Three months after my arrival, we had settled into a routine of drill, eat, sleep, patrol, repeat.

In my case, there was also inspect, train and write reports, the latter of which I had come to despise most of all my duties, though to be certain my penponyship had improved considerably from the rough scrawl it started as—even Wind Whistler in her last letter had noted somewhat teasingly how good it was getting. I had also become good friends with Blindside and most of the mares of her squad; even taken to wearing the white fur dye, blue uniform and lighter armor of the Aerial Corps whenever I went out with them, though I still made a point to drill in my heavier armor to make sure I didn’t lose my ability to fight in it. In fact, whenever I went out on patrol, the only outward sign I was actually a Guardspony was the red three-stripe inverted-V rank insignia on my uniform collar, different than the upright silver ones the Corps wore.

But regardless of the uniform I was wearing, fighting was not something I’d gotten to do since I’d been there. None of us had; the frontier had been very quiet, as was often the case that far west.

It might have been complacency after months of no action, the latest storm off to our east drawing off two of our six pegasus squads to help deal with it, or the fact that some pegasi were starting to go on leave in advance of the winter holidays, leaving us even more short-hoofed. It might have been planned, or we might have just been a target of opportunity. But either way… all that changed in dramatic fashion one late autumn morning, with Hearth’s warming just weeks away.

First Fight

It began as a breezy, cold, but otherwise ordinary day. Winter was coming, and this far away from the heart of Equestria we were more or less at the mercy of wild weather, rain-and-snow-laden storm fronts rolling out of the heart of the Gryphon Empire that I tended to think were just a means to torment ponies and keep Aerial Corps weather teams busy. We were told that sometimes the Gryphons took advantage of such storms to launch raids, knowing pegasi would be pulled from other sectors to deal with them, but it hadn’t happened once in the twelve weeks I’d been there.

The first sign that something was wrong was an overdue patrol flight. A flight was a lowest level of Aerial Corps organization, a simple four-pegasus element with a PFC usually in charge, though I’d led them myself just to gain experience and get out on patrol more. I was prepared to chalk it up to strong canyon winds on a breezy day, but a half-hour late was a little much.

Lieutenant Sundiver thought so too, immediately moving the base to a higher alert level and readying additional patrols, even donning his own armor for the first time since I’d been there. As for myself, I had an odd sense of foreboding, my shortened mane hairs standing on end as I stood on the canyon edge and the breeze picked up again, carrying a myriad of sounds and smells…

It was a sixth sense that would serve me well in the years to come, and this was the first time I felt it. At the time, however, I thought I might only be imagining catching a brief scent and hearing a distant trill. “Sergeant!” Sundiver snapped me out of my reverie as even more ominously, there was a report that the outpost’s magical anti-intrusion enchantments had suddenly stopped working. “Gear up! Take Blindside’s squad and sweep the canyon within three leagues of base. If you spot gryphons, observe and report back immediately but do not engage unless attacked!” he told me.

“But sir! If they’re on our side of the canyon…” I protested as I pulled on my wingblade harness, but trailed off as Sundiver pinned me with a glare.

“Trespassing alone is not grounds for attack, Sergeant. And I’m not sending any more ponies into an ambush! We’re not doing anything until we know what we’re up against…”

I had barely time to acknowledge the command before a series of blinding flashes and deafening booms left my eyes seeing spots and ears ringing. Thunder gems! Some part of me automatically identified, remembering one of Sundiver’s earlier lessons on gryphon weaponry, realizing it was a prelude to a raid as a series of large figures popped up from beneath the cliff edge and a volley of projectiles whistled out of the air.

My Guardspony training and instincts forged in a hundred training duels kicking in, I dodged immediately, a narrow arrow-like object passing close by my ear. Other ponies were not so fortunate, as I heard a series of muffled cries. I looked up, terrified I was going to see ponies with crossbow bolts sticking out of them, only to see some kind of odd, feathered dart stuck in shoulders and necks, through watery eyes.

Pinion Darts! I recognized from another briefing. Their tips typically coated in a quick-acting sleeping potion, they were fired from blowpipes and from them immediately realized from them our assailants’ intent—they weren’t here to kill us, but to capture us, and with a half-dozen ponies already down in addition to our missing patrol, they were off to a good start.

As my vision cleared, I beheld our adversaries for the first time—black-garbed figures with leonine hindquarters and various hues of chest feathers, front legs that ended in eagle talons, long, curved scimitars strapped to their backs and helmeted heads under which peered out two large eyes over a long, predatory beak. They were generally larger than pegasi, and certainly stronger being they were mostly males.

Despite my initial revulsion at their appearance—and ’twould be a lie not to say a moment a fear as well—I didn’t waste any time. Pulling out a special red gem, I threw it to the ground, breaking it open and releasing its contained magic. Immediately, alarm bells rang throughout the outpost, startling everypony into alertness. Sundiver nodded at me, and pulled out his own gem, this one blue. “ROUSE UP! ROUSE UP! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!” his voice boomed throughout the outpost, followed quickly by the sound of a different alarm bell ringing. I could hear pegasi scrambling to get airborne and battle-ready; in addition, I knew that the unicorns in the infirmary were preparing to receive injuries.

The gryphons had been briefly startled when the bells went off, but as Sundiver barked out his orders, they recovered and quickly resumed their strike, picking off more ponies with their darts as they emerged. Three of them dove directly for him, the obvious leader whilst another three went for me, more pinion darts flying out from their blowpipes. Adrenaline surging through me, I back-flipped away, beating my wings to give me more breathing room as the darts hit the dirt in front of me. One of them swooped in, intending to pin me with his talons; I flipped over him, and slammed my hooves on the base of his wings. He gave a pained squawk as he plowed into the ground, wings completely numbed by the attack as I quickly followed up, knocking him cold with a hoofstriker hit to his head.

The attack had been half-instinct on my part, having done the same to pegasi in prior duels; it was good to know that gryphons, too, were vulnerable to being disabled in such a way. But I had no time to rest, as his two friends came at me, one wielding bolas, which she began twirling over her head with increasing velocity, and the other quickly reloading his blowpipe.

I didn’t know why they weren’t going for their swords or even using their talons, but didn’t question my good fortune as I immediately shot towards the bolas-wielding eagless—their term for gryphon females, though we often used decidedly more derogatory ones—before she could bring them full up to speed. Startled by the sudden move, she tried to fend me off with her free claws, taking several defensive swipes and using her wings to buy time and distance to use her bolas but I wasn’t having it, using the strength I’d developed in basic to blast right through her guard and drive a hoofstriker into the bottom of her beak. Her head snapped back, her eyes rolled back in their sockets, and she fell from the sky along with the bolas from her grasp.

With that, I turned my attention to the third gryphon, who had just finished reloading but hadn’t been able to draw a bead on me; I’d been moving too fast. I shot under him then up behind and saw him twist in midair, discarding his blowpipe and going for the sword on his back.

I moved in quickly, out of fear—not of his weapon, but of the escalation; by our rules of engagement, lethal force was to be met with lethal force. And Windshear was right; I did NOT want to resort to it. So I put on a burst of speed and tackled him in midair before he could draw his weapon, ignoring his alien smells as I went for his head, pinning it in the crook of my foreleg, putting pressure on his carotid artery.

He squawked once and struggled, his claws digging into my arms above my hoofstrikers but I didn’t let go until he went limp, dropping his fainted body to the ground.

It never ceased to amaze me how combat seemed to slow time down. It had taken me less than twenty seconds to knock out three gryphons, yet if I’d been asked, I would have said it felt more like a minute. But regardless, now that I’d taken care of the immediate threats, I set about looking for other targets only to remember Sundiver’s words—I was a leader, and my responsibility was to the outpost and the ponies under my command, directing them in the fight.

I wasted no time, gathering the disoriented remains of two squads and setting them immediately on our assailants, using flights of four pegasi to dispatch a single gryphon whilst Sundiver solidified the outpost’s defenses, proving he was no mere desk officer by taking out two attackers himself. He paid a painful price, however, a bolas to the chest cracking his ribs and knocking the wind out of him, but he turned that to his advantage, using his injury to draw in the triumphant gryphon tiercel only to blast forward and drive both hoofstrikers into his chest, breaking his ribs in payback.

Their initial advantage lost and the base now fully rousted, the weight of our numbers started to tell as we chased down the remaining assailants. Sundiver ignored objections and led the direct assault despite his bleeding barrel whilst I led a wide sweep with Blindside’s squad to hunt down stragglers and cut off our enemy’s retreat, taking out two more raiders personally. Finally, we cornered our remaining quarry against the cliffside, where they were still trying to get away with their remaining prize—a single unconscious Aerial Corps pegasus stallion, which they now held hostage, a pinion dart sticking out of his shoulder and a scimitar blade to his throat.

That immediately froze their pursuers. Understandably, as it was a move designed to play on the fears and protective instincts of mares, and it even gave me pause… but in the end did not dissuade me. Not after training with stallions and all the duels I’d fought with them. “Harm him, and all of you die,” I flew forward and informed them coldly, deploying my wingblades for emphasis, the pair audibly locking into position on the leading edges of my wings, hoping against hope they wouldn’t force me to make good my threat as the Aerial Corps pegasi immediately followed suit with a series of metallic ringing sounds, like blades drawn from scabbards. “Release him, and you may leave with your lives.”

Trapped, their apparent leader looked to her remaining comrades then back to me. Whatever thoughts were passed between them, I caught nearly imperceptible nods. “We surrender,” she announced in accented Equestrian, dropping her scimitar to the ground and then holding her front paws up, palms out. “And methinks you’ll be wanting this refuse back?” she shoved the still-unconscious pegasus stallion hostage at me.

“Thank you…” I all but hissed to cover up my relief, retracted my blades, then proceeded to knock each of them senseless in turn.

* * * * *

After slapping leg and wing shackles on their unconscious forms, we dragged them back to base and threw them into separate holding cells, where a bucket of water in the face woke them up. After a brief interrogation, which revealed nothing of value except that they had apparently been paid in gems by unknown agents for their work—a substantial fee up front, and then a bounty on each live pony they brought back, surprisingly subject to forfeiture if any at the outpost were killed—the orders came from division headquarters to release them in exchange for the immediate return of the patrol flight they’d ambushed and captured earlier.

“The gryphons are claiming this group acted on their own,” a wounded Sundiver read the latest missive from division headquarters even as he was being treated, “and are demanding we give them back so ‘they can be punished appropriately’, saying they can’t ‘guarantee the safety of our soldiers’ until we do.” He shook his head in disgust, and I couldn’t help but do the same.

Acted on their own? Hardly likely. So there’s no punishment, and nary a response from us, either… I groused but obeyed my orders, stripping the trio of all their remaining armor and weaponry before escorting them with an entire squad to the canyon edge.

Once I had word from Sundiver that our missing patrol had been released—even more infuriatingly, I later learned we had also paid a ransom for their return—their shackles were unlocked. “We’ll be back,” their eagless leader said as she sat back to rub her wrists, giving me a cocksure grin that made me want to smack her again.

“And we’ll be waiting,” I immediately rejoined, giving her a glare back.

“Hmph,” she tossed her cream-feathered head. “Methinks you got off easy, Guardspony,” she said with a nod at my red collar insignia.

My eyes narrowed. “And methinks so did you,” I told her, getting up in her face—both to memorize her features and try to prove I wasn’t intimidated by her. “’Tis lucky you did not slay anypony this day, or you wouldst have paid an equal price!” I told her, still fiercely glad I had not been forced to make that choice.

She stared back at me, then grinned as if she could sense that doubt and weakness within me. “And ‘tis lucky we were told not to… or you wouldst now be dead,” the eagless replied as she and his compatriots took flight, cackling as she left. “Until next time… my little pony!”

We escorted them as far as the far canyon wall, then watched them fly back into their home territory until they were out of sight.

* * * * *

By the time we got back, we found the outpost still in an uproar, ponies getting treated for cuts, concussions and sleeping drugs… as well as more than a few broken bones. All in all, the base had just lost nearly half its remaining strength, and Sundiver had already called for reinforcements via dragonfire gems, with three veteran squads from Outpost Omega promised to arrive the following morning. “Sergeant,” he called to me in a somewhat pained voice as I entered the infirmary. “’Tis done?”

“’Tis done,” I confirmed, feeling post-battle fatigue finally starting to settle in, the adrenaline rush wearing off leaving my legs shaky. For now… I couldn’t help but add, remembering their leader’s last words, for the first time feeling some pain from the gryphon claws that had earlier been dug into my forelegs.

He nodded through another grimace. “Bully. You’re in charge of the outpost until I’m back on my hooves. Methinks this is no time to relax,” he warned me. “They may follow up with an additional raid whilst we’re weakened. Be ready,” he warned me through clenched teeth as his ribs were magically reset back into position with a sickening sound in his chest, the overworked unicorn medic immediately turning her healing magic to repair the internal damage, which judging by his wheezing included a punctured lung.

“Aye sir. But still… we drove off our assailants with minimal casualties,” I reminded him. “We got our prisoners back and suffered no deaths, wounding eleven and capturing six. Against a score of gryphon warriors, surely that is cause to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” Sundiver shook his head sharply as the unicorn healer continued to attend him, sighing with relief as a painkiller potion began to take effect. “No, Sergeant. We got lucky. Those weren’t warriors, just raiders,” he corrected me, using a casual term for Gryphon irregular fighters and mercenaries. “You saw their garb. They weren’t real soldiers, just thieves and cutthroats they pay to test our defenses and stir up trouble. And they still nearly beat us,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“They were paid to capture, not kill, or we’d’ve lost many in their initial attack. And for as limp-winged as they caught us, methinks if they were actual Talons or Knights, we’d all now be prisoner or been slain to the last pony,” he shook his head again as he surveyed the dozen pegasi still in the infirmary. “Still… ‘twas thanks to your prowess and ability to quickly rally our forces they did not succeed. And for that, you have earned my gratitude and respect… Guardsmare,” he called me for the first time.

I immediately stood to attention and saluted. “I protect and serve my fellow ponies sir,” I recited part of the Guardspony oath. “And you’re welcome,” I added before taking my leave, going outside to organize patrols and rebuild our shattered defenses.

Author's Note

Hope you enjoyed Firefly’s first skirmish! In addition to this new chapter, there have been some retcons made to earlier ones to make language use more consistent so characters don’t lapse into more modern English as opposed to the more archaic form they’re supposed to be speaking.

There are probably going to be significant changes made to the first two chapters in the days to come, with new scenes and sequences added, since some of the feedback I’ve gotten is that Firefly needs a better introduction and fleshing out when introducing her to readers; scenes from her past described in greater detail to help readers relate to her. Any suggestions of your own, feel free to make them.

Thanks as always to co-writer Leo Archon for some superb sequences and helping me past a couple points of writer’s block, to prereader AJ_Aficionado for his continuous feedback and running commentary, and a special shout-out goes to Denim_Blue for writing a private review and adding his own like to the pile. Still trying to pick up a few more, but the story goes on regardless. Thanks for reading!

—Firesight

Interlude #3, Part 1: The IS-2 Incident

’Tis time, by approbation of both Fell Flight and Blindside, to tell the tragic tale of Thunderbolt and the incident that led to his earning the Dove of Fidelity and eventually leaving the Corps.

He is far from the only pony involved in the tale, to be certain, but ’tis an enormous part of his legacy, much as he regretted it. Unfortunately, unlike our previous interludes, this tale cannot be told directly by the pony most affected by it.

For there are no living witnesses to what happened that day. All we have to go on are Thunderbolt’s testimony, and that of the Army troops who arrived too late to help. Thus, this chapter will consist of declassified intelligence analyses, operational orders, after-action reports, and a written journal entry from then-Captain Fairweather.

We thank Our Princess for declassifying these documents, and I in turn thank Fell Flight and Blindside for helping me comb through the voluminous archives regarding this incident to piece together this recounting of events in a coherent fashion. Methinks I know how hard this was on the two of you for what it revealed, much of which shocked me as well. But ’tis also certain he would have been very proud of you both for all you accomplished and became.

The IS-2 Incident: Classified GREATEST SECRET

Declassified by order of Princess Celestia: August 9th, 1167 AE

Timeframe:

November 1st—November 25th, 1127 AE, nearly twelve years before start of Pony/Gryphon war.

Order of Battle—Equestrian Aerial Corps
Excerpt from Equestrian Aerial Corps Weekly Readiness Report of November 1st, 1127 AE

Outpost Beta:

3rd battalion, 1st brigade, 5th Corps Division, mustering nearly 260 pegasi and a small unicorn healer contingent. Numbers were briefly increased in October to compensate for Army reductions due to harvest season, but are falling back to nominal levels now.

Commanding officer: First Lieutenant Squall Line
Executive officer: Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt
Readiness: Excellent

Comments from 5th Division Command:

There are some reports of friction between the commander and his second. There is also a potentially disturbing amount of officer/enlisted fraternization happening within the outpost’s ranks.

Order of Battle—Equestrian Army
Excerpt from Equestrian Army Monthly Readiness Report of November 1st, 1127 AE

Army Outpost Orange

3rd regiment, 4th division, 1st Corps, mustering 502 officers and mares.

Location: As is typical for Equestrian defensive doctrine, Army border installations are located between and slightly in back of Aerial Corps Outposts in order to backstop them and provide a degree of coverage in between them, as well as a ready reserve to respond to enemy incursions. Thus, Outpost Orange is placed roughly midway between Aerial Corps outposts Beta and Alpha and set back ten miles from the border, responsible for reinforcing any towns and villages in its area of operations that come under attack.

Commanding officer: Colonel Plowshares
Executive officer: Major Rock Biter
Readiness: Fair, but improving.

Comments from Army 1st Corps command:

The Outpost is regaining numbers and training levels after losing half its earth ponies for the customary two-week harvest period in the latter half of October, during which time the Aerial Corps compensates by surging in additional pegasi to Outposts Alpha and Beta. Some concerns about unicorn training levels persist and earth pony mares report a shortage of crossbow bolts.

Order of Battle—Gryphon Regular Forces
excerpted from Army intelligence report of October 12th, 1127 AE

Black Hawk Base

“Black Hawk Base, opposite Outpost Beta, is responsible for a twenty-league stretch of border to either side of it. As reported by the EIS, ’tis currently the home base of the 6th Talon legion, supported by a mixed Knight century with at least a dozen mages attached. This sector of the border is sparsely populated by both sides, but there are a half-dozen small towns and villages in the region of note, as well as copious farmland in this less arid area…”

“As per gryphon defensive doctrine, the Talons are not concentrated on the border, but garrison all settlements and critical points. Only a cohort is typically stationed at Black Hawk base. In the event of an attack, they could concentrate their forces quickly on the endangered area, however, and frequently practice doing so. Their forces are numerous enough to have offensive capability as well, though ’twould be very difficult for them to mass sufficient numbers for an attack without being seen.”

Commanding Officer of Gryphon Border Forces:

(excerpted from EIS Imperial Personnel Dossier #2452)

“Having been in her post for the past three years, Legate Kamilya Ampok is a respected commander known affectionately to her forces as ‘The Lioness’, not just for her imposing appearance and combat prowess but her sense of honor and fair play.

“An Earth Gryphon, she is of noble blood and underwent rigorous training in preparation for her military service, quickly rising through the ranks. Though possessing a crippled wing she sustained in battle with the Elder Rams some years earlier that means she cannot fly very fast or far, she is still a potent fighter and remains in command by virtue of the fact she has won several duels despite her handicap.

“She is not afraid to buck protocol; her idea of a parley consists of two commanders sitting down to dinner and discussion on a small island deep in the border canyon river with nothing else but food, drink, and a few trusted advisors. For the genuine respect she shows Equestrian forces and her efforts to keep the peace—raider activity is down sharply under her tenure as border commander—she is well-liked by her pony counterparts…”

Readiness State of Gryphon Border Forces:

(excerpted from Equestrian Aerial Corps intelligence report of October 12th, 1127 AE)

“Readiness levels of the gryphon frontier forces are very high. Legate Ampok trains her five border legions constantly and is normally quick to spot any issues with her defenses. We have never engaged her forces directly, but to do so would be considered extremely inadvisable…”

Order of Battle—Gryphon Irregular Forces:
Excerpted from EIS Intelligence Estimate #332, September 2nd, 1127 AE

“… At least three raider groups are known to operate in the Delmareva area, including the Lucavi, Khamja, and Ryomoku groups. Of the three, the Lucavi has by far the most members and is considered the most dangerous; the other two tend to fight each other far more than us…”

“Lucavi numbers are estimated at upwards of six hundred soldiers who take pride in their toughness to the point that upon induction into the group, individual members have the Lucavi group seal branded into their flanks in direct mockery of pony cutie marks. An exceptionally large raider group, they are supplied and supported by a surprisingly extensive criminal network that includes extortion and protection rackets under the leadership of Mistress Altima, a former Owl intelligence officer who apparently used her office for illegal personal gain.

“She believes herself untouchable, and not without cause: ’tis believed part of the reason she survived what is normally a capital offense was that she used her intelligence assets to amass blackmail material against high-ranking members of the Imperial government and military, who thus tolerate her activities even when she is carving out her own private empire within the confines of the real one…”

“Very intelligent, ruthless and dangerous, and said by some to be verging on sociopathic, Mistress Altima has at least two large towns plus several smaller ones under her thrall and controls a lucrative black market in crystal and weapons trade throughout the province. Her soldiers are well-equipped and far better trained than the raider norm; her commanders include several ex-Knights and at least one former Raven…”

“Black Lance recon reports indicate that her group is increasingly unpopular with gryphon civilians, as they tend to harass and steal from them, ruling the towns they control as private fiefdoms. Despite complaints, the Empire has taken no action against them, perchance hoping to retain their use against us… or perchance she simply holds too much incriminating information over them.”

Final Report on IS-2 Incident

Prepared by Captain Fairweather
Commanding Officer, 5th Division, Equestrian Aerial Corps
December 18th, 1127 AE.

Prelude:

On October 12th, 1127 AE (Anno Celestae), a group of nearly one hundred fifty earth pony pioneers belonging to four extended families established a series of new settlements against explicit advice in the fertile marshes near the exit of the border canyon, where arid terrain turns into tidewater as rainfall from coastal storms allow swamps and grasslands to exist.

This action was immediately protested at parley by the Gryphons, who made clear their belief that the settlements were in violation of existing agreements regarding disposition of land and ‘agricultural resources’ in the area. They pointed to the unofficial agreement of 1108 AE, which had never been ratified by the High Council as it had been presented under some duress, stating that the tidewater area west of the Delamare river was ceded to them.

After some discussion, ’twas decided that, as their presence was provocative and might potentially lead to a destabilization of a presently peaceful border, the settlements would have to be disbanded. But the four families refused to leave, stating that ‘they needed no permission to farm anywhere’ and made clear they would sell their crops to gryphons or ponies alike. They called their three colonies the “Inland Shores” and stated ‘they were meant to foster peace and understanding’ between the two sides, apparently believing that Equestrian intransigence was the only reason it did not exist.

Even when told the gryphons found their presence provocative, they refused to leave, stating they were peaceful ponies who did not believe the tales of gryphon atrocities. The three colonies were then unofficially referred to as IS-1, IS-2 and IS-3 on military maps, and more derisively by Corps soldiers as the “Idiot Settlements.”

Summary of Events:

Harassment of the settlements began immediately by various raider groups, likely prodded by the Office of Owls, though their role was never proven. These included thefts of supplies and equipment and later escalated to acts of intimidation and at least one kidnapping for ransom.

Despite this, the families refused repeated offers of relocation and protection, claiming that ’twas the pony military presence that was provoking the gryphons and any garrison would only make things worse. The mayor of IS-2 even went so far as to claim that, “Should the gryphons become aggressive, we will simply speak to them of kindness and offer compromise, extending our hooves in friendship.”

In the end, ‘twas only when a direct threat was leveled against the settlements by the Lucavi raider group to ‘burn them to the ground’ that they consented to even the emplacement of intrusion detection sensors whose triggering would earn an immediate Corps response.

Despite this, First Lieutenant Squall Line, the then-commanding officer of Outpost Beta, decided that the sensors were not enough, as it would take nearly an hour for troops from Beta to arrive. Believing a protective force was necessary, on November 3rd, he dispatched a platoon of three squads to the forwardmost colony, IS-2, in the belief that simply having soldiers there made an attack less likely. However, to placate the pacifistic colonists, he ordered them to leave their wingblades and other weapons behind, over the vociferous protests of his first officer, Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt…

After-action report prepared by Major Rock Biter
Received by Equestrian Army HQ on November 5th, 1127 AE

At 1420 hours on November 4th, whilst on training maneuvers with my company north of Outpost Orange, we received word from base that the intrusion-detection enchantments around the IS-2 settlement had been triggered by numerous sources. Fearing the worst, given the local garrison was unarmed per orders of Corps Lieutenant Squall Line, I abandoned our exercise and made immediately for the settlement, leading my two platoons personally. We also received word that Outpost Beta was dispatching reinforcements as well, but given our considerably closer proximity, we arrived first.

We came upon a scene I can only describe as directly from Tartarus: burning buildings and slaughtered ponies, blood and severed limbs everywhere. Whether stallions, mares, or foals, none were spared the blade. The colony was gone, as were its defenders; I further regret to report we found the remains of the defending Aerial Corps platoon amongst the dead. I can at least report that ’tis quite apparent they fought to the death to defend the town despite their lack of weapons; I might even go so far to say that despite not being an Equestrian Army unit, the Diamond Defender award be given them posthumously for what is certain to have been a desperate last stand.

Once a perimeter was established and the ruins of the colony secured, searches revealed a single onsite survivor among the Corps troops; we found Sergeant Virga Veil alive underneath a pile of debris, but he was severely wounded with multiple sword and arrow wounds as well as a missing wing. Our unicorn medics attended him, but his prognosis, regrettably, is poor. As he remains in a coma at this time, we have been unable to get any information out of him, and with each day that passes, ’tis considered more and more unlikely that he will ever wake up.

’Twas little doubt as to who was responsible for the attack, as we found a scimitar stabbed through the village flag as it lay on the ground in what had been the town square. The scimitar’s hilt was adorned with the circular blue seal of the Lucavi raider group, which was revealed when we removed the scroll on top of the hilt. The following message was found within, written in Equish:

The Equestrian invaders have met their fate, and pathetically easy were they to slay. Let this be a warning to all ponies to leave gryphon lands or die. Long live the Empire!

’Twas signed by the Mistress of the group, Altima, who said also that she would toast her victory with the blood of a soldier she had personally slain, promising her forces would be feasting on the bodies of dead ponies that night. She further mocked us by claiming that she was untouchable and, forty miles behind a full Talon legion as she was, we would not dare come after them for it. True to her word, of the nearly hundred civilians and soldiers present at the settlement, nearly twenty bodies were missing, and of those who remained, ’twas further apparent that some had been tortured before they were slain.

’Twas then we heard the distant cry of a foal, and immediately sought its source. We found it a quarter mile from the village in a small alcove, in the form of a single crying infant filly guarded by a second survivor—a wild-eyed Corps Lieutenant bearing multiple wounds and a bloodied gryphon blade in his mouth. After considerable coaxing—for all he had been through, he simply did not believe we were friendly at first—he identified himself as Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt, first officer of Outpost Beta and commander of the Aerial Corps detachment.

He would not give up the foal, which turned out to be the sole survivor among the civilians, believing he alone could protect her. Fearful of his reaction were she to be taken from him—he claimed he had slain six raiders before being forced to flee when there was nothing left to defend—we allowed him to return her personally to our outpost, whereupon he ensured she was seen by healers and then collapsed from pain and exhaustion. He remains in our infirmary at present time.

I wish it known here and now that for as clinical as this report may seem, none who saw that scene were unaffected, myself included. The carnage was indescribable and the savagery shown beyond all reason and comprehension; many of my mares broke down and sobbed at the sight. But duty called; we immediately garrisoned the remaining two settlements with reinforced platoons over their heated protests, bringing the village elders to visit their sister colony to prove what had happened.

Refusing to accept the obvious, they then tried to blame us for it, claiming ’twas only our presence here that invited the attack. In this, I must in part agree—putting an unarmed Corps platoon as a deterrent there may have dissuaded Talons from launching an attack, but not a raider group who saw an easy target and a chance to avenge earlier losses to Corps forces. Whatever their actual orders, they quickly escalated from harassment to massacre when they realized our soldiers were defenseless, and the one who ordered such an arrangement must bear the blame.

To the Commanding General and My Princess herself if she should read this, I speak for not just myself but my entire regiment when I say this attack CANNOT go unpunished. ’Twas an act of war to say nothing of basest savagery, and one that must be answered in kind. My forces stand ready and eager to avenge this atrocity, though we cannot do so alone. We will require Corps support and considerable reinforcement before we dare cross the border, but will train constantly to do so.

Signed,

Major Rock Biter,
Equestrian Army
Executive Officer, Outpost Orange

After-action report prepared by Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt
Received via EIS secure communique November 6th, 1127 AE

Having awakened to the news that, no, my most recent memories were not, in fact, merely horrible nightmares, I have been debriefed by EIS agents as well as Corps Command. They have asked me to prepare a report of my perspective on what is now being called the ‘IS-2 Incident’, which is a horribly bland term for such barbarity as I have witnessed. I have further been told to ‘keep my emotions in check’ whilst writing this report. Having given this advice due consideration, I have decided to ignore it. ’Tis certain I cannot keep my bias, my emotions, from influencing my perspective, given my personal involvement in the entire affair. As such, what follows is my true, unfettered feelings on the matter.

To begin, I would say that my superior, First Lieutenant Squall Line, must have earned his position through some well-placed friends in the Corps. He certainly lacks the tactical acumen of a true commander. Sending three unarmed squads of ponies to guard a settlement in disputed territory was, to put it mildly, an extremely foalish action, one both myself and our training officer, Sergeant First Class Windshear, counseled against.

To his credit, Windshear offered to lead the detachment. Perchance he would have been the better choice as ‘tis certain he was more versed in hoof-to-hoof warfare, having regularly bested everypony on base in unarmed spars, including myself and Squall Line. But I insisted on it being me, deciding that I owed it to my soldiers to be there even in the face of such folly. Perchance, had Windshear been there, the raiders would have paid a higher price. But in the end, ’tis certain not even he could have stood against such an overwhelming force, and I fear the outcome would not have been altered...

In summary, First Lieutenant Squall Line’s actions were those of a foal of the first order. He sent an inadequate force into an indefensible location, in the belief that our presence alone would dissuade enemy action. The lie of that was proven quickly, as I must with great sorrow report the loss of my entire command and the colony we were defending. Such a small and unarmed force only made it an even more tempting target, as I repeatedly warned him. The raiders, arriving in the settlement mere moments after the sensors were tripped, set to work with brutal efficiency; they had timed their attack well, as many ponies were enjoying the mild weather outside, and several were in the settlement’s ‘town square’, for lack of a better term. They knew we were unarmed, and that ’twould be, to borrow a gryphon phrase, ‘like spearing fish in a barrel’.

Despite their lack of wingblades, my forces fought valiantly as best they could with whatever improvised weapons were available. Heroically they fought, taking down nearly a score of raiders with their bare hooves… and heroically they were butchered like so many gryphon game animals, outnumbered nearly five to one. I could not save them, but twice my mare soldiers saved me by throwing themselves in front of crossbows and spears as if I was somehow worth sparing.

In the space of ten minutes I was forced to watch the destruction of my entire command—including the mares I had proposed to herd but a week earlier—and know that I was helpless to prevent it no matter how many raiders I killed. In the end, out of the entire colony I was charged with guarding but given no means to protect, all I could save was myself and a single foal. And in the end, I can forgive neither the gryphons or the one whose idiotic orders allowed this atrocity to occur!

As First Lieutenant Squall Line has proven himself unfit for command with such an egregious error of judgement, I request he be immediately relieved and command of Outpost Beta transferred to me. I further request the chance to lead the retaliatory strikes, should they be so ordered. As nearly one hundred ponies now lie dead, ’twould be folly not to!

Signed,

Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt
Equestrian Aerial Corps
First Officer, Outpost Beta

Personal appeal to Princess Celestia as written by First Lieutenant Squall Line
Received in Canterlot on November 6th, 1127 AE:

My Princess:

On reviewing the report written by Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt, I feel I must add my own perspective to this tragic and terrible affair. I beg for your indulgence and to hear me out.

I will not, for now, respond to Thunderbolt’s assault on my competency and character, as I can only imagine the pain he feels. So let me simply say I freely acknowledge my severe lapse in judgement and the loss of life it caused. I knew all the ponies I sent into harm’s way, and I will bare the pain of their loss as well as the certainty that I sent them to their deaths until my own dying day. But my reasons at the time seemed sound, and I would remind My Princess that the colonists themselves made it very difficult to defend them.

The presence of intrusion detection enchantments was not, in my view, sufficient to their defense as neither we nor the Army regiment at Outpost Orange could respond in time to an attack given their proximity to the gryphons, yet they also refused to allow armed Corps soldiers within twenty miles of their homes. Thus, I attempted an admittedly imperfect compromise, and I respectfully point out ’twas one that the settlement elders did agree to—sending unarmed soldiers.

Despite Thunderbolt’s objections, ’twas my belief and hope that their mere presence would be sufficient deterrent, given that gryphon soldiers and leadership find no honor in attacking defenseless ponies and doing so would mark a dangerous escalation for the gryphon side—one I still believe they did not want. The fatal flaw in that logic, which I now only too ruefully acknowledge, is that though the Talons may behave rationally and with restraint under Legate Ampok, raider groups such as the Lucavi led by such savages as Mistress Altima are not constrained by such concepts as duty and honor.

If I could take back my order, I would. If I could have died there in their place, I would. I have neither slept nor eaten since word of the attack broke, and I know I have earned Thunderbolt’s undying enmity for it. And, ’tis certain, that of my own rank-and-file.

I made a terrible mistake; one I must answer for. But I beg you, My Princess—do not relieve me of my command now, or I cannot even begin to make amends for what happened. For the sake of my own wounded soul, please let me lead the retaliatory strikes and risk my life in combat, so I may at least in some small way atone. In so doing, I will accept both the judgement of battle and any you may pass on me yourself should I survive it.

Your servant,

First Lieutenant Squall Line
Equestrian Aerial Corps
Commanding Officer, Outpost Beta

Celestial General Order #2107

Issued by Princess Celestia November 7th, 1127 AE

To the officers and soldiers of the Equestrian Military:

’Tis with great sorrow that I acknowledge the attack on the Inland Shores earth pony colony, and the terrible loss of life that accompanied it. ’Tis with equal regret that I now direct the Equestrian Armed Forces to ready themselves for retaliation, up to and including incursions into gryphon territory. The goal of these operations will be the elimination of the raider threat to the remaining settlements by the total destruction of the Lucavi group, killing their members and destroying their bases.

However, in planning these operations, I must also urge caution, and direct that we first make our grievances known to the gryphon high command in hopes of reaching a settlement. As an attack of this magnitude far exceeds typical raider bounds, ’twould seem likely that this was neither authorized nor condoned by the gryphon military or even the Office of Owls. This being the case, ’tis possible they may be willing to accommodate us in some form.

Regardless of their answer, I order the Army and Aerial Corps to immediately stage additional forces into the area for a corps-scale offensive, calling up reserves and redeploying forces as needed. Planning and training is to commence immediately, with a goal of being ready to launch operations within one week of acknowledgement. Rules of Engagement will be finalized as battle plans are drawn, but the broad outlines are as follows:

The Army and Aerial Corps WILL cooperate and coordinate their operations. By my order, there will be no interservice squabbling as has marked such affairs in the past, or commanders will be relieved.
Gryphon civilians are not to be targeted under ANY circumstances. Every effort will be made to protect them; any soldiers who attack them will be severely punished.
If at all possible, the Imperial military is NOT to be engaged. If this is not possible, every effort will be made to minimize contact and their casualties.
Operations are to be concluded as quickly as possible. For the longer they proceed and the longer we stay in Gryphon territory, the more the border will be destabilized and the risk of open war grows.
Once operations are complete, every effort is to be made to convince the colonists to relocate. If they do not, I will visit them and make the appeal personally.

In regards to the requests made by Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt and First Lieutenant Squall Line, permission to lead portions of the retaliatory strikes is granted at the discretion of Captain Fairweather. However, the request to cede First Lieutenant Squall Line’s command to Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt is not. There will be an investigation into the former’s actions and motivations, but for now, recriminations can wait. The threat of the Lucavi group supersedes personal grievances within our armed forces, and I expect all involved to conduct themselves properly and professionally.

Signed,

Princess Celestia Daybringer,
Diarch of Equestria
Canterlot

Results of Gryphon/Pony Parley

The following is the verbatim exchange during the Pony/Gryphon parley of November 9th as remembered by Captain Fairweather, recorded in her personal journal upon return with the help of a memory recall spell cast by a unicorn healer. They were made part of the operational record but sealed along with the rest of the IS-2 incident documentation until recently declassified.

“Greetings, Captain,” Legate Kamilya Ampok saluted me in the gryphon manner, then placed a large rum jug down on the table. “I have brought your favorite brand.” A large earth gryphon eagless, she was backed by two aides, both smaller sky gryphon females, the hindquarters of the first baring the rosettes of a serval and the second, an ocelot. Also present was a single male earth gryphon mage with tiger stripes and stave, even bigger than she was. As their commander approached me, he cast a privacy spell, ensuring that nothing could be heard outside of it; our conversation would be for each other’s ears alone.

“As have I,” I replied with a salute of my own, opening the package of breads and pastries to show her as the Army unicorn from the Gamma regiment cast the same spell from our side, thus ensuring that neither side could eavesdrop or record the events through magical chicanery. As she had volunteered, ’twouldn’t have surprised in the least if she was an EIS agent, but methinks I didn’t care much at that point. “I believe the Valencia oranges and yeast rolls are your favorites?”

“Indeed they are. I thank you for remembering,” she said as the table was quickly set before us and then our aides withdrew outside the privacy bubbles. Unlike the overwrought parleys that previous gryphon commanders demanded, she prefered face-to-face meetings of a far more personal and civilized kind: a shared meal. She brought the meat and alcohol, we brought the breads, fruits and vegetables. I was sad to say that over time she had rather addicted me to the former.

As was customary, our aides watched but did not listen from a short distance away. Occasionally, they were allowed to hear or the table was set for all, but this time, ’twas just the two of us. “To business, then…” she began as she broke the neck of the bottle as the means of opening it past its steel seal—we really did need to teach the gryphons about corks, I had the idle thought—and poured us both a drink in the wide goblets the gryphons favored, ones that their beaks could easily drink from. “I believe you have some matters to discuss?”

A prize understatement indeed, I thought. In any event, I did not waste much time with pleasantries. “Would that it were kind business and the matters were idle ones, Legate,” I told her, not immediately partaking in either her food or drink. “You know full well of the raider attack and massacre of the pony colony in the Delmareva marshlands south of your Black Hawk Base. That nearly one hundred ponies are dead and their bodies defiled, including a Corps platoon nearly wiped out to the last soldier, is not something we can ignore,” I tossed the scimitar adorned with the Lucavi group’s seal on the table, still stained with pony blood, then showed her the note that had been found on the hilt; I took some satisfaction in seeing her eyes narrow and beak tighten.

“Here is your proof of what happened, Legate. Disputed territory or no, we will retaliate just as you wouldst were our positions reversed, so you may consider this an official warning to stand down your Talon legions and not interfere. We do not hold you or your soldiers accountable, and we have no wish to fight your forces, but we will if we must. The Lucavi group will face justice… one way or another,” I informed her as I began to eat. ’Twould be an insult to not partake of her hospitality, after all, particularly since I wanted her support… or at least a promise she would keep her forces from interfering, or we would be facing a far more difficult affair.

She did not immediately meet my eyes as she cut into the meat on her plate, a thick cut of some kind of game bird. “Methinks I would be angry too, should such a thing have happened. And demand vengeance for it,” she agreed at some length, then raised her eyes to mine. Anger smoldered in them, but not, I knew from long experience with her, directed at me. “But officially, we deny any knowledge of that group’s operations, or that this so-called massacre ever occurred,” she recited the standard gryphon boilerplate when presented with evidence of raider atrocities, though she clearly hated it, grating it out through a clenched beak.

“And unofficially…?” I prompted, sensing there was more she wished to say.

She closed her eyes briefly, and opened them again, her talons drumming as she studied the blade and note. “Unofficially, methinks I would be as outraged as you by the events you describe, and would see them brutally punished… were I allowed to.” Her expression went impassive but her wings twitched in anger for a moment. “Unofficially, methinks that if the choice were mine, I would happily do the job for you and present their heads on spikes to you afterwards, as is the proper treatment for traitors, sparing only Mistress Altima herself so that you may dispose of her as you see fit.”

“I see…” I stared at her for a moment, considering both what she was saying and what she might wish to say. “And if these events had transpired, would there be some reason why you are not?”

She arched an eyeridge at me. “Hypothetically speaking, of course?”

“Of course,” I answered evenly, cutting off and eating another piece of meat, curious again how they had seasoned it to make it so enticing, even to a pony palate.

“Very well, then.” Her blue eyes narrowed and she again tapped her talons on the stone table in front of me, idly nibbling on a dinner roll with her beak. “Hypothetically speaking, in such a… curious circumstance as you describe, I might say that they were in the employ of the Office of Owls, but in fact far exceeded their instructions and authority. I might also say that the Owls are furious with them; that according to such sources within their ranks as I could not possibly have, the Lucavi group was paid to conduct simple reconnaissance and some minor harassment on your settlement, not engage in wholesale destruction and slaughter of innocents as might provoke pony rage.”

Her eyes narrowed further before continuing. “I would go on to say that by engaging in such egregious and outrageous conduct against peaceful ponies, even on disputed territory, they have dishonored themselves and the very Empire that employed them. Nor could I say that this is a one-time incident—that as they have grown ever-more violent and out of control over the past few months, they are now threatening not just the Equestrian frontier but a large swath of territory within our own borders, terrorizing and extorting our own towns and farms, demanding tribute and ‘protection fees’ whilst murdering those who do not comply,” she informed me. “As such, they are now but a liability best expunged, and neither I nor any soldiers under my command would shed tears for their loss… or lift a talon in their defense.” She arched an eyeridge at me, leaving me little doubt as to what she was so carefully telling me.

“In such curious circumstance, then, why wouldst you not do the expunging yourself?” I had to know as I took my first drink of their rum, and found it as deliciously strong and sweetly flavored as ever. “If matters were as you say, ’twould seem to me that they are now as much a danger to your side as to ours.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Because ’twould seem Mistress Altima is considered untouchable due to the incriminating information she holds over many. Because even outside of her influence, there might be officers whose authority exceeds mine who would say that to take action against her would be tantamount to an admission of guilt. That in the end, ’twas the fault of the ponies for establishing an illegal colony there in the first place. That to crack down on the Lucavi group in the face of such provocations would be showing weakness to a race of herbivores who deserves neither honor nor respect. And thus, we should tolerate her deprivations, increasingly intolerable though they are,” she said in disgust, bringing down her goblet with a little more force than necessary, causing some liquid to slop out when it hit the stone table.

“Needless to say, I am not such an officer, nor are any who serve under me. Nevertheless, ’tis certain I would not be allowed to take any action against them, but would be instead ordered to defend Imperial lands and retaliate for any Equestrian incursion into our territory. Particularly one in supposed response to an incident that never occurred.”

I sighed and nodded. ’Twas no less an answer than I expected, but still one I had hoped not to hear. “I see. Then ’twould appear I have wasted my time,” I told her in some disgust, getting up to leave and leaving a half-eaten meal behind. “Do what you must, Legate, as will I,” I told her, flaring my wings to depart and fully expecting I would be facing her forces in battle within a week.

“However…” she called me back before I could take flight. “However. By curious coincidence, there is a troop rotation scheduled in that area shortly,” she noted, idly cutting off another piece of meat. “As I find their readiness suspect and procedures sloppy, the current Talon legion on duty out of Black Hawk Base is being pulled back from the border and reassigned to Cirrus Cassada for further training. And it appears that due to a sudden and unforeseen outbreak of feather flu, there is to be a slight… delay… in the arrival of the replacement legion.” She arched an eyeridge at me once again.

“I see.” I nodded my understanding, turning fractionally back to face her, studying her suddenly impassive features closely. “Then ’tis fair to say that border security may be unusually… lax in that area?”

Instead of answering directly, the Tribute popped another piece of meat into her maw and replied like she was reciting a report to her superiors. “I further regret that due to being overtaxed by rampant sickness within our ranks, our mages have been on constant healer duty and thus have not been able to keep the intrusion detection enchantments properly powered along a twelve-league stretch of border.”

She passed me a marked map showing a gap nearly thirty miles to the southeast of Beta, then plucked an orange from my basket and began to peel it with a talon. “’Tis truly an unforgivable oversight which you may be assured I will quite vigorously investigate… once it has been discovered, that is.” She closed her eyes. “Unfortunately, with such difficulties as we face with the current changing of the guard, ’tis unlikely to be detected right away.”

“Truly?” I asked in mild tones, sitting back down at the table and helping myself to more meat, her hospitality suddenly far more welcome. “Methinks ’tis quite uncharacteristic of one so meticulous as you, Legate.”

“Yes. And ’tis likely I shall face disciplinary action for it,” she admitted with another gulp from her goblet, a bare moment of worry crossing her face as she topped mine off as well. I could certainly appreciate the bind she was in, and how far she was sticking her neck out to help us. If her actions were discovered, she could face execution for treason, but despite that she was placing her personal honor and disgust at what had happened above her given instructions, offering us aid when precious few gryphons would.

“Understand once again, Captain, that ’tis unthinkable for me not to obey my orders. But if, by some strange chance, this were not so, I could guarantee no more than a five-day window to conduct such operations as one might assume would be contemplated,” she told me carefully.

“In such an unlikely instance, such time would be sufficient,” I answered with equal care, a gleam growing in my eyes. “And were we to take advantage of such… fortuitous circumstances as you describe, what more might we need to know?”

“I would tell you to strike swift and sure. I would also warn you to complete those operations as quickly and surgically as possible, and be gone without a trace of your presence by the end. I would say to be mindful of civilians who hate the Lucavi as much as you and to take great care to not harm them, giving the Empire as little reason as possible to retaliate when your actions—and mine—are discovered,” she outlined, to which I nodded.

“If I were inclined to aid your efforts, ’tis certain I would also present you with all the information I could gather on the Lucavi group’s bases and members,” she then told me, passing me a series of scrolls out of her bag tied with twine, which I quickly stowed in my own pack, “And further trust you to dispose of such sensitive information immediately once it has been utilized… for both our sakes?” She arched an eyeridge once more.

“Had you given me such a thing, be assured that ‘twould never see the light of day,” I promised her, glancing back at my watching aides, “nor would there be any mention of such aid in official reports, though you may also be assured such aid would be appreciated. And perchance one day, reciprocated.”

“You can thank me by removing the remaining settlements, thus giving me something to show my superiors,” she told me bluntly. “Such would go far in preserving peace afterwards. And perchance my own hide,” she finished, raising my respect for her even further by virtue of the fact that she clearly did not expect to go unpunished, and knew well what retribution likely awaited her.

“I will do what I can,” I promised her as I finished off my goblet of spirits, and meant it. “Thank you for the rum, and be well, Legate. Your honor is noted and your candor appreciated. And if the worst should happen, be assured you and your staff may find refuge with us.” This time, I saluted her first.

“You will forgive me for hoping we do not have to avail ourselves of that offer.” The Legate returned my salute with a wan grin. “Nevertheless, ’tis appreciated as well. Understand that officially, this meeting never happened and any detected border incursion will be met with all the force we can muster, Captain. But unofficially…?”

She paused as her smile turned thin and predatory. “Unofficially, you may send Mistress Altima and the entire Lucavi group to face the judgment of their ancestors with my blessings…”

Equestrian Joint Military Council Dispatch #8823—Operation Phoenix Fire
Received by Princess Celestia November 16, 1127 AE

My Princess:

Planning and preliminary staging for Operation Phoenix Fire is complete, the details of which are contained in subsequent pages of this report.

In summary, the operation will consist of a three-division offensive: a reinforced Aerial Corps brigade from the 5th division will cross the border in concert with the entirety of the Equestrian Army’s 4th division with the goal of annihilating the Lucavi Raider Group, killing its members and destroying its bases of operations. They will be backed by the Army’s 3rd Division with additional Corps battalions in reserve as well.

All remaining Aerial Corps 5th Division forces will stand to along the border for the duration of the operation to guard against retaliation, each outpost heavily reinforced by two additional Corps battalions from the 1st and 3rd divisions. The Equestrian Army will likewise surge troops into the area to backstop the border defenses, doubling and occasionally tripling their presence in towns and bases. We have not yet carried out the bulk of these troop movements as to not alert the gryphons, but forces are on alert for immediate deployment. With sufficient naval transports available, they can be placed within twelve hours.

The main attack will be preceded by insertions of Black Lance Teams two, three, six, and seven, who will disable defenses and reconnoiter the objectives, identifying raider troop concentrations and high value targets for Corps and Army exploitation, as well as providing early warning of raider movements or if the Talons should suddenly appear. Zero hour for Army and Aerial Corps forces to cross the border will be 6am on November 18th, 1127 AE and as presently projected, operations will conclude and gryphon territory evacuated by 6pm November 21st.

These dates have been chosen to coincide with the promised outage of Imperial frontier defenses and withdrawal of the 6th Talon Legion; whether the destruction of the Lucavi group has been accomplished by then or not, I think My Princess will agree that the longer we stay, the more we risk gryphon wrath and the descent of multiple Talon legions on our invading force.

We have also secured a small number of naval transports for the purpose of rapidly shifting Army troops between critical points, though I respectfully declined Admiral Coral Torch’s offer of using two naval airships based in Baltimare. As their readiness is poor, they are in no shape for such operations and regardless, their appearance over gryphon territory might be taken by the Empire as a dangerous escalation.

Overall command of this operation is being given to Major General Avalanche of the Equestrian Army, as the bulk of the forces being used come from his 4th division, with Captain Fairweather as his deputy commanding the Corps contingent. Coordination has been arranged between the services, though methinks it best the Army and Aerial Corps have discreet areas of responsibility wherever possible, as we simply have not had sufficient time to practice joint operations.

Regardless, both commanders have agreed to follow this chain of command and impress upon their individual units and soldiers that they are to work together and not succumb to inter-service rivalries that have plagued such operations in the past…

Author's Note

Well, trying a very different form of storytelling here, but one that would have to be used for an event taking place now thirty years in the past with no living witnesses. Nevertheless, hope it was compelling enough to see the back-and-forth taking place of this attack, and that there really aren't many individuals coming out covered in roses here. Also wanted to show that even before Gavian there were and are honorable gryphons out there who are disgusted by what happens as much as the ponies are.

And lastly, the observant may notice some issues with the Equestrian military discussed here, and you can be there they will become far more costly when their faced with something other than raider groups.

Thanks again to Leo Archon for fleshing out several sections and making his own mark on the chapter. Thanks as well to AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, Denim_Blue and TheGoldCrow for reviewing it as well on short notice, given that I wasn't planning to immediately finish this chapter until a couple days ago.

Appendix D: Maps of Equis

Map of Continent of Equis:

Terrain map of Equestria:

Equestrian/Gryphon Border:

Author's Note

Not the bonus material I originally intended, but have some maps. Yes, this is taking the Equestria-as-America theme to the nth degree, but even in canon it’s pretty heavily based on American geography. More maps will follow as I find the time to make them. But please understand that creating these... takes some serious time and effort.

And lest I forget... book two is launched!!!! Read and enjoy the story of the war itself!

Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly