Rising Storm

General Thorn walked into the Princess’s study adjoining the Throne Room. One of the royal aides showed him in to the study, and introduced him with some flowery title that the General wasn’t interested in listening to. The Princess looked up from one of her scrolls and smiled.

“Lieutenant General. To what do I owe the honour?”

Thorn straightened himself up and contemplated how to approach this. Though he had been waiting for over an hour outside the Throne Room, he hadn’t actually prepared anything to say, instead opting to fume over Courser. The General resisted the urge to become combative with the Princess, as he had with Courser. Courser was a glorified secretary, though he had some influential friends. Princess Celestia on the other hoof was dangerous in her own right. To draw her ire didn’t mean demotion or discharge; it meant angering a being with god-like power.

That wasn’t to say Celestia was unreasonable of course. Her intervention was the only reason that a suspected nationalist such as himself had been allowed to gain a military advisor position on the Security Council. Generally the nobility preferred unicorns or earth ponies, pegasi such as himself and Alabaster Cuirass were only admitted if they proved to be loyal (as Cuirass had) or were directly appointed by the monarch (as Thorn had been).

Thorn realized he had been standing here looking like an idiot for a good three seconds and elected just to come out with it. “Princess Celestia, I was speaking with some of my colleagues this morning and I heard an unsettling rumor.”

Princess Celestia lifted her brow with interest. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Thorn shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you see, General Cuirass had spoken to one of your scribes earlier this week, and he seemed to be under the impression that you have laid the groundwork for the disbandment of the Security Council.”

Celestia closed her eyes and let out a brief laugh. “General, surely you’re old enough not to partake in such schoolyard rumor mill nonsense?”

Thorns expression hardened and he bit back his indignation. “This is hardly a schoolyard matter your Highness! With all due respect, a decision which affects the Equestrian military this deeply-”

Celestia silenced the General with a wave of her hoof. “Pierce, please. Rumors such as this fly about the high echelons of the Equestrian government every day, surely a stallion of your age has been taught not to believe all he hears?”

Thorn felt like an idiot, being patronized like this. It was entirely his fault for barging in and levelling accusations against a supernatural autocrat based on nothing but rumor and frenzied speculation (which may or may not have been slightly cider fueled).

“I, I suppose you’re right, I apologize for disturbing you.” Thorn started to back out of the room, but Celestia held up her hoof once again to stop him.

“In this case, however, you have heard correctly. Naturally, I tell you this with full confidence in your discretion. I have been considering the state of the conflict in Transvaal. For three years Equestrian forces have been present, and there has been no end to the fighting, no measurable success for either side. We have lost how many soldiers in this action?”

The General stiffened. “Seventeen.” He said somberly. The figure was burned into the memory of every Equestrian general. Available to the politicians as a figure in a debate at any moment, read off of a piece of paper and used to attack or defend some foolish point.

Thorn saw it differently, so did Alabaster Cuirass, so did Shining Armor, so did Iron Venture, so did every other General. That number was a failure. Every dead soldier, every family without a loved one, every squad one stallion short, meant that their officers hadn’t done their job. They never spoke of it with one another, or with anyone, really. But it was there, at least, with Thorn. He knew soldiers died, such was their duty. But still, every death weighed heavily on him. Another notch carved into a post too worn for another.

Celestia continued, aware of how her comment had affected the General. “Seventeen soldiers have fallen fighting a war from which we stand little to gain, and in which we have little hope for victory. General, it is clear to me that our Security Council cannot bring an end to the bloodshed in Transvaal. If they are unable to fight a war in a foreign land, what hope do they have to defend our nation? The Nightmare Moon Crisis left us floundering, Discord’s return saw over 100 innocent civilians killed and 38 soldiers dead before they even strapped on their armor. The Changeling attack almost saw our capital fall into the hooves of a brutal invader, and they linger at our borders waiting for another opportunity to strike. Not to mention;” Celestia’s expression suddenly became quite severe. A frown came across her face as she stared down the General. “the threat posed by the prevalence of revolutionary groups within our nation.”

Thorn froze. He had finally been called out. Courser knowing was one thing, but the Princess was another thing entirely. The General’s heart began to pound in his chest, sweat rolling from his brow as he contemplated a quick (and likely futile) escape from the room. How much could she know? Did she only know of him? Or had his carelessness put over 500 innocents in the path of a vengeful Goddess? Well, relative innocents. Thorn thought, they were technically all criminals.

“To that end, General Thorn, I am preparing to put the issue to a vote in the House of Lords. Should they agree, I will carry forth my plans to disband the council, and replace it with a more modern alternative.”

Thorn grimaced. “And, what would that modern alternative be?”

Celestia softened her expression and was about to speak, but as she opened her mouth, the door to the study flew open. Thorn turned, and in the doorway of the Princesses study stood Guard Captains Shining Armor and Iron Venture. Shining Armor wore the serious, stony expression he always did on parade, but his pegasus colleague looked extremely irritated.

Princess Celestia was caught off guard by the sudden interruption. Iron Venture and Shining Armor were supposed to be with Princess Luna, discussing Changeling countermeasures. Their presence here was contrary to her predictions. “Captains, welcome, is something amiss?” She asked cautiously.

Shining opened his mouth to speak, but Venture cut him off, anger seething in his voice.

“Princess Celestia. I come here to report to you that Captain Shining armor is requesting a royal pardon.”

Celestia was taken aback. “A- a pardon? I.. I don’t understand,”

Venture turned his head towards Shining. “Nor do I.”

Thorn shot a look of utter incredulity at the white unicorn. “Uhm, Captain Venture,” He asked. “what crime has he been charged with?”

Venture closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

“Treason.”

*****

It was well past dawn now. The zebra had made camp beyond the view of Gale and his troops. All they could see were the scout forces that had harassed them through the night. Gale noted that the zebra force seemed quite weakened. The scouting forces were unwilling to even approach the perimeter of the compound. For a moment, he exhaled, and allowed himself to believe that they may get out of this intact.

Then he saw them.

Every single zebra warrior in the Impi facing Gale and his troops approached the station, coming over the crest of the same hill they had used to conceal themselves the day before. Gale’s eyes widened. There were too many. Too damn many. It felt like they hadn’t even made a dent yesterday. Gale searched desperately for an advantage, any advantage, but to his dismay he found none. If they all came at once, (which, according to Dwaal, was inevitable) then the Equestrians may as well turn their rifles on themselves and save being gutted.

Dwaal and Verdant Dart both ran over to the Lieutenant. Dart spoke almost immediately, though he tried to retain his composure, the fear in his voice came through. “Sir, if I may, I think now may be the time to reconsider tactics.”

Dwaal rolled his eyes. “Perhaps we should send an emissary under the white flag, bring a nice cup of tea to their commander and request some time to egress?” He suggested sarcastically.

Dart turned to face his Boerperd counterpart. “There’s no need for that Mr. Klip, I’m only giving my opinion.”

“Your opinion is irrelevant now Warrant Officer.”

“We still have time to reconsider our approach!” Dart began to raise his voice.

Gale turned and snapped at the NCO. “And what have we to reconsider? A withdrawal? I’m fairly certain some of their number actually slept last night and could run us down before we got half a kilometre. If you have some way out of this, please, share it.”

“Sir, with all due respect, we’ve done all that can be expected of us and more, holding this position isn’t worth the cost.”

Dwaal spoke with disbelief. “Did you take a blow to the head or have you not been listening to any of this? The objective here isn’t to hold this damn outpost, the objective is to bokking survive! This isn’t one of your ‘civilized’ wars, and we’re not facing off against the Grenadier Guards! We aren’t admitting defeat and marching out under our colours, and they will see nothing but a weakness to be exploited if we retreat! No pity, no mercy, just battle. It’s their way!”

Gale exhaled deeply, collecting himself. The two’s arguing was becoming distracting. as the young Lieutenant began to see the foundations of a plan taking shape.

Dart seethed back. “Listen you, that attitude is getting us nowhere. Nothing is going to be accomplished by our asking these colts to be gutted and flayed by those savage beasts! If we stay here we die! Every single one of us!”

The bickering was annoying the Lieutenant a great deal. Both of his ‘advisors’ were ultimately offering no tactical suggestions, their only contribution being to Gale’s headache.

“If we stay here we at least have a chance! If you run you’ll only find an unmarked grave awaits you!” Dwaal fumed.

Finally Gale turned to the two ponies and barked.

“That’s enough! The both of you!” Gale took a moment to look at his troops, a number were looking nervously in this direction, trying to determine what the officer and his two seconds were saying. Gale couldn’t see the fire that he had seen in their eyes yesterday. All he saw was the dirt spattered across their faces, the blood and sweat soaked armor. They looked to him like children, stricken to the core with fear and grief.

Gale swallowed and turned his head back to Dwaal and Dart. “They’re all frightened enough as is. We’ve got no choice left. We’re holding.” Gale walked towards the ramparts, hastily and haphazardly repaired during the night.

As he walked off, Gale spoke with determination, once again burying his resurfacing doubt with feigned confidence.

“And I have no intention of dying here.”