Rising Storm

by Arrenius

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Shining Armor, Princess Celestia, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 36361

The story of the ponies of Equestria as they struggle through a time of social upheaval and change.

Celestia's guidance has long been the watchward of Harmony in Equestria, under her rule, the realm has never known war, civil strife, famine or plague, and its ponies have remained by and large, pure and morally upstanding. But recently, the world has begun to change. Equestria is drawn into peacekeeping efforts outside its borders, and for the first time in centuries ponies across the land see the coffins of soldiers return to grieving families. Ethnic and cultural tensions between constituent races resurface, and the cracks in this harmonious union of Equines have begun to show. As enemies begin to gather around Equestria, it becomes obvious that the old ways of peace are coming to an end. Sinister and benevolent forces alike gather both without and within, all determined to paint their own future on the canvas of Equestria. Ponies like Gale Storm, a young officer of the Royal Equestrian Army, will have to choose where their loyalties lie, and how far they are willing to go to see their visions of the future realized.
Rated teen for mature themes, violence, and coarse language.

Published 2012-06-21 00:04:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-26 21:07:05 UTC

Prologue: A Monarch's Musings

Princess Celestia looked out her window with a melancholic expression. She had ruled this land for millennia. She had kept the ponies safe from harm as much as she could, protecting them from the influence of evil, real evil. But the longer she ruled, the more she realized that the world was changing. She had always been able to see what had to happen, what she must do to guard her subjects. Lately however, her vision had become more clouded. She had come to realize that as the world changed, shifted, and realigned, so too must Equestria. To her great dismay, sacrifices would have to be made to see the transition through. Because of her inaction, more than 150 of her ponies would die. 150 Soldiers who had dedicated their lives to the fulfilling of her orders, would be butchered on a foreign field. And every one of their deaths would be necessary. This was what Celestia had told herself. This was what she had come to know. But despite all her knowledge and clairvoyance she could not accept her decision. Even with the end in sight, she could not reconcile her means with her conscience.

What would Twilight Sparkle say if she could see all of this? Celestia thought. What would she think of your scheming? How would she view your sending innocent ponies to die for a 'greater good'? What kind of example is this to set for your subjects? For your student? For your sister? When she thought of Luna, Celestia swallowed spit, fighting back a tear. Luna had been back for what felt like so short a time. Attending to her duties left her little time to interact with other ponies, and without anypony to talk to, she had trouble adjusting to the way things were done in this day and age. it had been scandalous for the nobility to openly sacrifice soldiers for their own personal motives a thousand years ago, today it was practically unthinkable. Celestia could hardly imagine the horror with which Luna would envision her if she knew of her sisters intentions this day.

The lingering doubt was simply too much for Celestia. Perhaps she would allow Luna to rest; she found it hard to believe that she would find any sleep this night.

“Any word from them yet?” Keys said, turning to face his friend.

“Nope. Not a peep. Weird, ponies aren’t usually this late.” The yellow unicorn replied. The tone of his voice suggested an air of apathy which was understandable, but hardly helpful.

The earth pony got up off his bench, walking to the window. “This is really unusual. Spark, we ought to report it.” He turned his head back and shot a concerned look at Spark Beard.

Spark glared at him, clearly annoyed. “Keys, we clock out in five. I’m meeting a client right after I open tomorrow. For the love of Celestia please don’t ask me to stay late again.”

Keys rolled his eyes. Sometimes Spark just didn’t care. He didn’t seem to understand how important the job was. Ponies could get lost or hurt in the Everfree Forest, and without border watch ponies looking out for them, things might get bad. At least that’s what he had read in the pamphlets. “Come on Spark, you know the rules and so do they! They were supposed to be back twenty four hours ago according to the travel plans that YOU signed.”

“I signed those travel plans because YOU made me stay late. If you do that again, it’ll be the fourth time this month.” Spark paused for a moment, and Keys took the opportunity to straighten himself up, about to deliver a lecture about duty to his old friend. But Spark saw it coming, and before Keys had even opened his mouth he was cut off. “Keys listen to me. You’re young, you got handed responsibility, and I get it. You want to prove that you’re trustworthy and loyal and all that. But this isn’t that big of a job. We’re not cops, we’re barely even private security. Put it into perspective. You work on the Apple farm, right? What do you make there, twenty one bits an hour? This job is twelve fifty and we do it from six to eleven.”

“It’s not about the money Spark,” Keys said indignantly.

“Hah, for you it isn’t. You live alone. Your idea of ‘expense’ is a visit to Sugarcube Corner with your buds.”

Keys stopped him there. “I’m not that young Spark.”

The old stallion continued on as if he hadn't heard. “Me? I got two fillies and a wife that likes a nice dinner every now and then. I’m here ‘cause I need the money. With unicorns like that Twilight Sparkle running around lighting up the town with their horns, there ain’t a lot of demand for an electrician. But that ain’t even the point. Look Keys, you’re a good kid, but you take yourself too seriously. And no one will have any kind of respect for you if you treat every late traveler like a national emergency. Sit back and relax. You ain’t getting paid much, but you’re still being paid to spend your Thursday nights sitting on a bench looking out a window. Enjoy it.”

Spark spoke plain and simple, as he always did. Whether or not Keys agreed with him, he had to admit that the old pony knew what he was talking about. Keys looked at the ground for a minute, then spoke again. “Alright Spark, we'll do it your way. I may as well get some actual sleep tonight.”

Spark smiled. “That’s the spirit, you head on home, I’ll close up here.”

“Thanks Spark, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

“You too bud.”

Keys grabbed his saddlebag and threw it over his back. Some rest would be nice, so what if some ponies were late back from their vacation? After all, all that stuff about the Everfree Forest was just an old pony tail, it wasn’t like anypony ever actually went missing in there.

Chapter One: Adrift, far from home.

Penitent Shield stared at the horizon. He lay prone on his stomach surveying the scene before him. The rolling plains and hills seemed endless, a far cry from the deep forests and stark mountains of his homeland Equestria. He had seen desert before. When he was a foal he had visited Appaloosa territory, but it really couldn’t compare to Zebraland. He’d been here for eight months now, trying to keep the Zebra Empire and the Boerperds of Transvaal and Vrystaat Oranje from killing each other. It had only taken him a month to realize that it was a lost cause. The Boerperds were a hardy bunch, that much was certain, but if the zebra wanted them gone, the pitiful force amassed by the coalition of Equestria and various other allied states would hardly turn the tide in their favor.

Penitent turned to look at his squad mate, Zephyr Whisk. Just to irk his fellow soldier, Zephyr smiled. The earth pony knew damn well that it pissed Penn off, grinning like an idiot all the time. But despite (or more likely because of) that fact, he insisted on doing it all the damn time. Rolling his eyes at Zephyr, Penitent spoke. “See anything?”

Zephyr replied in his usual upbeat tone. “Nope, not a single thing. Kind of a boring day really.”

Penitent nodded in response and looked off to the left where his other two squad mates were. There wasn't much sense in calling out to them, they'd have let him know by now if anything unusual had happened. Penitent lifted his binoculars again and went back to scanning the horizon. One particularly annoying feature was a fair sized hill just over a kilometer and a half away. Standing orders from the Major said not to set up scouting positions past the hill where Penitent’s squad was now, but that bucking hill was a glaring blind spot. Penitent looked at it silently for what must have been five minutes when he felt a hoof tap him on the shoulder.

“Alright there, chap?” Came a voice from behind. Penitent rolled over, it was his squad leader Corporal Flourish. Flourish was a unicorn barely a year older than Penitent. A solid section leader, but clearly (since he was in the Infantry and not the Magi Corps) Flourish hadn’t shown a good deal of magical talent. Penitent replied concisely, as he always did. “Yes, Corporal, just keeping watch.”

Flourish smiled. “That’s a good lad, knew you’d make a good Lance. Now, Private Whisk, would you hold down the fort here while I speak with your section head?”

Zephyr nodded. “Not a problem, Corporal.”

“Jolly good. Come on then Lance Shield.”

Shield followed his section head. He was taken out of earshot, and the Corporal spoke quietly. “I wanted to talk to you, lad.”

“It’s a good thing you took me away from my post then, Corporal.” Shield said flatly.

“Don’t get cheeky, I worry about you.” Flourish shot back somewhat indignantly.

“I can’t imagine why. Have I been slipping?”

“No, not in the least. Your marksmanship is right up to snuff; your section completes any and all assigned duties in a timely manner, and you always look perfectly spiffy for the officers on parade. But that’s not all there is to the job is there?”

“Corporal, I’d appreciate it if you’d say what you mean to say.”

Flourish sighed. “Very well then lad. I’m here because my family has done this for generations. Whisk is here because he needs the money for his missus. Every single colt at this Celestia-forsaken outpost has a story, and no one’s sure what yours is. It makes everypony nervous.”

Shield laughed. “Are you saying you can’t trust me, Corporal?”

“No, if I couldn’t trust you I couldn’t have very well made you a Lance could I? I think the real question here is whether you trust all of us.”

Shield wanted to reply but was cut off. “Listen, Penitent, I’ve seen the bag of letters you haven’t sent. Don’t worry, I didn’t read them, not my place. I saw them though and you must have one for every rotten week you’ve been here and none of them have a stamp or address on the envelope. It’s a little bit unnerving when a pony writes a stack of letters just to hang on to them, gets ponies thinking the wrong things you see.”

Shield fell silent. He had served with this unit for just over a year, and he had to admit, there was some truth to what Flourish said. He hadn’t really opened up to them, but it wasn't about not trusting his unit. There was a good reason for the unsent letters. If the Corporal had checked he would have seen they were all for the same mare. Luckily it seemed that the Corporal respected his privacy, or this conversation would have involved questions that Penitent would have preferred not to answer. Either way though, the Corporal had been clear, his silence was starting to unnerve the ponies he served with. He opened his mouth to respond, but just then an unusually frantic Zephyr Whisk called out to them.

“Corporal! You’ll want to see this!” Flourish and Shield raced back to Zephyr.

“What is it lad?” Flourish said as he arrived next to the young stallion.

“Zebras sir! Hundreds of ‘em! Thousands! See for yourself!”

Flourish grabbed the binoculars and looked through them, exclaiming at the sight of the approaching enemy. “Buck! We’d have seen them a damned hour ago if we had been set up on that hill... no point worrying about it now.” He took a moment to collect himself, and then handed the binoculars back to Zephyr. “Private Whisk keep me informed on their movements and position. If they start moving anywhere I want to know. Lance Corporal Shield! Inform the Major.”

“Corporal the Major’s not here, he’s with the main force for a training exercise in Winberg.” Shield replied.

Flourish raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the Officer Commanding then?”

“I think it’s Leftenant Storm.”

Flourish grunted. “He’ll have to do then. Inform him of the situation.”

Shield nodded. “Yes Corporal.”

“Work those wings of yours lad, we’ve not got much time.”

Shield nodded again in acknowledgement and took off back towards Drift Station, his home for the past few months. The station was a motley collection of buildings and tents next to a river, inconveniently situated in the middle of a small valley. It was technically supposed to be a resupply station, but was currently being used primarily as a hospital. The majority of the ‘garrison’ were wounded. As he approached the station, Shield noted his fellow soldiers sitting around cooking fires, boiling water, cleaning their weapons, maintaining the station, and generally going about their duties as soldiers were (usually) wont to do. As fast as he could, Shield flew towards the Command Post but followed regulations and landed a good 20 meters away from it. It was a stupid rule, inspired by fears of suicide dive-bombing pegasi or some similar idiocy.

Shield hit the ground at a gallop, but was quickly stopped by Private di Mezzo. “Ah, Lance Corporal Shield, have you given any thought to my offer? We could use another bass, and I’ve got you pegged as a good one. Not to mention, I know you could use some excused duty time now and again,”

Shield rolled his eyes. He most certainly did not need excused duty status; he didn’t enlist in the military to avoid work, like some ponies. And he certainly didn’t enlist to sing in a damned choir. “I don’t have time for this Dolce! I need to see the OC!”

Di Mezzo looked a little crestfallen. “Oh well, maybe next time old boy.”
Penitent felt a little guilty in spite of himself. It wasn’t like Dolce was going out of his way to annoy him (like Zephyr did) he really was just trying to be friendly. He made a mental note to apologize to the idiot later, when and if they weren’t all about to die.

Penitent galloped over to the Command Post, where Master Warrant Officer Dart was stationed outside the door. “Flying a little fast aren’t we Lance Corporal? Remember the standing orders? We wouldn’t want our actions to be interpreted by anypony as hostile would we?”

Shield replied quickly. “Sir, my apologies, but it’s absolutely imperative that I speak with the OC! Is it Leftenant Storm at the moment?”

Dart gave a concerned look. “Yes it is, is there a problem?”

“Yes sir, a big one.”

The Warrant Officer nodded understandingly. “Go on in then lad, don’t waste any more time.”

Shield did as he was told and rushed in to the Command Post, inside were three rooms. One was the Commanding Officer’s quarters, and the other two were offices. He ignored the Supply office and went straight to the CO’s office, which Lieutenant Storm should be inside during the CO’s absence. Shield knocked on the door and almost immediately received a response in the form of the calm voice of Knight Lieutenant Gale Storm.

“It’s open.” Shield didn’t know a lot about the officer. He was an auxiliary, not even a Platoon Commander, and he mostly kept to himself. Shield noted with worry that the stallion may not be qualified to command a company on the verge of battle.

Shield pushed those thoughts aside and opened the door. When it opened he saluted, somehow allowing protocol to take precedence over the urgency of the situation. He noted that the Lieutenant’s chair was faced away from the door, so that he couldn’t see Shield. The Lieutenant waved Shield in casually. “Something to report, soldier?”

Shield continued to stand at attention as he delivered his report. “Sir, we have a problem. My section is on guard duty by the southeast ridge, and we observed a zebra formation across the river, could be thousands strong, they’re stationary now, but...”

“But they could head our way at any moment...” The Lieutenant said pensively.

Lieutenant Storm was silent for a moment. He continued to face away from the soldier reporting to him, in an effort to mask his facial expression. If the soldier had seen the grim look on his face, the barely contained frustration and hopelessness, then his confidence would have been shattered. Gale fought a battle in his mind about what to do next. He wouldn’t have time to consult any of his superiors over the telegraph, so the decision rested on him alone. Hold the station or withdraw? The officer weighed the consequences of both decisions in his mind.

The zebra used pathetically antiquated technology. They had no firearms to speak of, and their wooden shafted stone-headed assegai were inferior to Equestrian metal spears. Not to mention that the Equestrians had armor, which the zebra considered cowardly. The technological advantage unquestionably went to his troops. Numerical advantage? Well that was obvious, Storm had barely one-hundred and fifty troops, and many of them were wounded. The whole Impi of the Zebra was over thirty thousand. Even a small portion of that would be more than enough to overwhelm this station. Training and tactics? On the surface it looked easy; of course the professional Equestrians, from a ‘civilized’ nation had the advantage. But Storm knew the truth of the matter, the military was not a high priority of the Equestrian government. Training methods were outdated to say the least. More importantly, many of these ponies were soldiers because they needed the money. The zebra were warriors through to the core, and their combat prowess reflected it. To underestimate them was a common but lethal mistake.

Gale’s options were limited. He could assemble the company and head into the hills. Harassing the Zebra with firearms and hopefully diverting them from whatever their target (unquestionably the Allied base at Winburg) was. Or, he could dig in and hold the station. Harassing was safer for his stallions, unquestionably, but if the zebra didn’t take the bait.... Winburg was poorly defended at best, without warning there would be no way that the coalition forces there could resist the Impi. And past this station was Vrystaat, filled with Boerperd civilians. The zebra didn’t hold to the same rules of war that the coalition did, everypony, civilian or soldier, was a target to them.

Gale took in a breath, and turned to face Penitent Shield. Shield stared at the officer; the grim look of determination in his steel grey eyes belied the Lieutenant’s uncertainty. Storm stood up, and donned his helmet.

“Fly to all the scout positions and get them to form up in front of the Command Post soldier.” Storm put his hooves together in a businesslike fashion. “We’ve got work to do.”

*****

Keys’ walk home took him right through the center of Ponyville. It was too late for most ponies to be out, they were either on their way home or closing up what few shops were still open. The moonlight shone brightly against the thatched roofs. In the center of town, looking down upon all its inhabitants with a caring smile was the statue of Princess Celestia.

Though Keys knew it was only a statue, something about it made him feel safe. He had only ever seen the Princess once, when she had come to town to visit her student Twilight Sparkle. He noted the statue captured her quite well. Keys couldn’t help but smile when gazed upon it; somehow, he knew not to worry, that everything would be alright. That thought stayed with him until he unlocked the front door to his townhouse. He walked in the door and kicked the dirt off his hooves onto the mat.

His roommates weren’t in the living room. After a quick fridge raid, he deduced that they weren’t in the kitchen either. Therefore, they must be either asleep or still out. Keys decided not to take any chances, and refrained from turning on the lights. Silently as he could, he made his way up to the bedroom on the second floor. As he lay down Keys realized just how tired he was, and silently thanked Spark for giving him the chance to get a reasonable amount of sleep. By the time he drifted off, Keys had forgotten why he had wanted to stay at work longer in the first place.

*****

Celestia looked at the sun in the sky. It should almost be time. She felt awful, dirty, manipulative, every brutal epithet she had ever applied to her enemies. The battle of Drift Station would begin soon. She hoped, in spite of what she knew, that their ends would come quickly.

*****

Drift Station was a flurry of activity. Lieutenant Storm had met with the Company Sergeant Major and quickly briefed the garrison on the situation. He wasn’t one for speeches and honestly he couldn’t think of any way to spin the situation to make an inspiring oration. All he could think of were orders.

“All told what’s our strength Warrant?” The young Lieutenant addressed the Sergeant Major twelve years his senior in service, and in age.

The NCO responded immediately, having known the numbers off by heart. “Platoons one through five, but strength reduced as you already know. Seven officers including Surgeon, Commissaries and so on; those two Boerperds you were talking to earlier I suppose, the commando and the policeman; from our own, wounded and sick 36, fit for duty 97, not much of an army for you sir.”

Gale tried to stop a groan from escaping his mouth, he had assumed at least 150, but it seemed even that was too much to ask. Don’t think about it, he thought. Deal with it.

Gale barked, ensuring other nearby NCO’s would hear. “Alright, I want a redoubt in the centre of the compound, nine feet of sandbags at minimum! The outer line should be at least four! First platoon! Take the north wall. Second and Third on the south, Fourth should be ready to reinforce as necessary!” The Lieutenant pulled Warrant Officer Dart aside. “Get detachments from wherever you can and put them in the hospital; have them put firing holes in the walls. With any luck they won’t get close enough for it to be an issue, but at least we can have the patients well enough to stand backing us up.”

Verdant Dart nodded. “Right you are, sir. I’ll pass it along. What about Fifth?”

Gale looked at where his perimeter would soon be. “I want them evenly dispersed. Get the best marksponies on the south wall, I feel like we’ll take the brunt of the offensive from there. Get Fourth and Seventh sections in the centre have them ready to commit to a melee whenever we need them.”

Verdant saluted and ran off to do as he was told. Gale went to the armory and grabbed an officers cuff. He hated that officers received better weapons than enlisted colts. It was a unicorn thing, Gale noted with disdain. Unicorn officers were usually aristocrats, and if daddy’s hoofing the bill for the army, you can damn well bet he’ll be making sure his little colt is as safe as can be. Even if that safety comes at the expense of the ponies he’s supposed to protect.

Gale stopped himself before that train of thought progressed any further. Like it or not, the ponies at this station were his brothers until this battle was over. Gale pulled on the cuff and inspected it. Rifle cuffs were designed to fit anypony, in theory. The best ones were metal and custom-fitted to the pony who used them. Military ponies were not so lucky, they received a leather cuff with straps that could tighten or loosen as necessary. On the side was a long metal barrel that ended where the cuff ended, it was breech loaded, which could be a pain in a tight situation, but not nearly as much as the old muzzle loading models. When he slipped the cuff onto his foreleg, it fit nicely. The weapon was designed so that walking and trailing the barrel on the ground wouldn’t damage it (although ideally barrel covers were suggested for extended periods) and when in combat, the pony simply lifted the foreleg that it was on, took aim, and fired. The barrel was rifled, so it was fairly accurate, and some more advanced models had a longer barrel that could hit an egg at 300 yards (Gale had thought this was nonsense, until he saw a Boerperd do it). The best militaries in the world tried for six shots a minute. Gale’s record was ten. The Equestrian army average? Better not to think about it. The troops would be thankful for those reload drills now.

Gale secured the cuff and went back outside to oversee the preparations. From the sky he could tell it was nearly four o’clock. A thought confronted Gale that this might be the last time he ever saw a sunset. He had an overpowering urge to take off for one last flight, but he suppressed it. He was an infantrypony, a dirt kicker. There were other pegasi here, and he knew they all felt the same, but he could not afford to distance himself from the rest of the soldiers like that. He was, regardless of race, their commander. And they were, regardless of race, his soldiers. Gale smirked. For all the talk of unity and harmony in Equestria, peace love and understanding weren't what brought ponies together. The one and only place that ponies truly regarded each other as equals, was on the battlefield.

Author's Note

Leftenant is the British Commonwealth pronunciation, however it's still spelled lieutenant. For that reason, I have them say leftenant, but it appears as lieutenant not in speech.

Chapter Two: A war in hoof, two in the bush.

Procurator Courser had a regal look about him, anypony could tell that. His ornate attire aside, he walked with a confident canter. There was an undeniable aura of superiority about him. His entire persona looked as if it had been rehearsed from a young age, because it had. The Upper House of Equestrian nobility were required to display their position in the nation, to constantly appear professional, courteous, and most importantly worthy of the honour of attending the Royal Court. Every unicorn in court had followed the myriad traditions of Equestrian royalty since before Princess Platinum’s Unity Accord had built the nation. Their grace and composure was a point of honour. Which was exactly why the Procurator resented answering to Princess Celestia.

Princess! What a joke, it was an insult to the title that she carried it. Her policies had weakened the nation for two thousand years, what pony could even fathom such a time? Every day that she ruled, the pegasi became more militant and the earth ponies more conscious of the nation’s political affairs. Every day she ruled more sacred institutions of the nobility were discarded. Her recent spate of ‘practical jokes’ at the court’s expense had earned her immense popularity from the lower orders, and they were getting bolder.

Arguments in favour of democracy had been whispered among some of the earth ponies. Even some unicorns were beginning to show contempt for the court. And the pegasi had long been outspoken in their distrust of the aristocracy, which had attributed to their growing pegasian ‘nationalism’. Courser nearly scoffed aloud at the thought. The pegasi believed that their ‘movement’ had gone unnoticed. They thought they were so clever, speaking their heinous tongue when no unicorns were in earshot, venerating their military ‘history’ in schools when they thought they went unmonitored. And most insulting of all, clinging to their pagan religion. Though he was no supporter of Celestia’s politics, Courser acknowledged, as everypony did, that Celestia was the one and the only supreme Goddess. That she allowed blasphemy against her own religion was unthinkable.

Perhaps the most irksome of all had been the Guards. In recent years the power of the Royal Guards had been increasing, and so had Celestia’s willingness to deploy them. The Return of Luna was an excellent example, one which had nearly ripped the Equestrian political system asunder. When the Nightmare Crisis had abated, and the Elements of Harmony had been returned to their rightful place, the court was ready for a joyous celebration. The ancient enemy of Equestria had finally been defeated, finally the nation was secure! But then Luna’s trial had happened. She had been brought before the court, who overwhelmingly desired her sent back to the moon. Some among the court passionately argued that she ought to be put to death. And to the surprise of everypony Celestia spoke in her traitorous sister’s defence! It had made little difference though, the majority was still prepared to sentence Luna once again. But when she called the court to vote, Celestia opened the chamber doors, and the Guards, in full armour, bearing weapons marched in. Two ordered columns entered the room and took up positions around the head of the chamber.

Had he not been there, Courser wouldn’t have believed it. Armed ponies marching into the court! With that show of force, the court could only vote with Celestia. What choice did they have? No one even spoke; they merely stood in silence when asked to. Luna was cleared of all charges, and her former position was reinstated. Since that day the guards had acted differently, they rarely (if ever) came to attention when a noble entered their presence, and it was clear that some among them saw the existence of the court as some kind of archaic joke.

Courser knew this meeting today would be yet another similar offense. The timing of it was irksome enough, and the lack of warning as well. Only a day before the court voted on who would take the vacancy on the Security Council (a formality really, the court always voted with the Council recommendation and Courser and his associates had already selected a suitable candidate) she must have known he would be meeting with the rest of the council. He could hardly believe that anything constructive would come of this summons.

*****

Storm sat at the new telegraph machine that had been hastily installed last month, debating how to word his warning as quickly as he could. Regulations dictated that first and foremost a situation such as this should be immediately communicated up the chain of command. Standing orders were to, in the face of an imminent attack, get a message to superiors before taking any kind of action and await a response.

Of course, the regulations were so ass-backwards that Gale had chosen to ignore them and defer to his own judgement of the situation. Gale wasn’t a pampered noble playing with toy soldiers, and he wouldn’t subject soldiers to the ‘leadership’ of the Equestrian army if any other option could be found. If his superiors received the communique and were under the impression that the forces at the station were already engaged with the enemy, then Gale could simply act as he chose. After all, he could do without a wine sipping unicorn on the other side of the planet trying to second guess his every move. The inevitable court martial could be dealt with when it came.

Gale decided upon a short, simple message. The urgency may convince high command to actually send a relief unit, but Gale held out no serious hope of that.

Gale composed his message.

Drift Station OC K/Lt. Storm 07314099 reporting emergency situation STOP

Drift Station under attack by soldiers of the Zebra Empire STOP

154 combat-ready STOP

Ammo insufficient STOP Rations insufficient STOP

Outnumbered 30-1 STOP

Hostiles may be attempting to bypass other defenses and strike at coalition base in Winberg STOP

Recommend immediate counter-action STOP

Will hold position as long as possible STOP

Gale sighed. It was out of his hooves now. The defensive preparations were in place as best they could be and the soldiers at least thought themselves prepared. A voice in the back of Gale’s head reminded him of the inevitable, however. The chances for victory were slim, and many would undoubtedly die.

All in the name of your ego. He thought in spite of himself. Did Samarkand teach you nothing?

Gale pushed the thought out of his head. It wasn’t about ego. This wasn’t a foolish question of pegasus honour, this was a question of weighing his life against his orders. If the enemy took Drift Station, the coalition forces would be in disarray. Winberg could fall within days, soon after Pretoria as well. He needed to buy time for Major General Bristle to organize the allied troops.

All it’ll cost is 150 young stallions lives. Perhaps the next time a heroic sacrifice is required, you won’t drag others along with you. But that’s your specialty, isn’t it Gale?

Gale shook his head. The internal self-flagellating needed to stop. He certainly wouldn’t do his stallions any good by second guessing orders he hadn’t yet given. Gale steeled himself as best he could and walked out to make one last inspection of the defenses.

*****

Everypony in Drift Station was silent. They had manned their positions at the outer wall. Their weapons were loaded, and their instincts (as far as Penitent could tell) were sharp. All that was missing was a target and the order to fire. Tension was the worst damn part, which was something Penitent had become familiar with. This would be his third and probably last major action and the worst part was always the waiting. He could deal with the ‘three b’s of battle’, bullets blades and blood, in all their myriad forms. He could deal with wounded and dead ponies all around him. But he couldn’t deal with imagining it, thinking about it, anticipating it. On his left was his old friend Zephyr Whisk. The two exchanged a glance, and probably just to piss him off, Zephyr gave him a reassuring smile. Penitent shook his head in annoyance and Zephyr chuckled a bit. He was about to tell Zeph that he was an idiot, but was interrupted by a bellow from along the sandbag fortifications. A pony called out words he simultaneously had been waiting to hear and hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Contact left! Twenty plus hoof-mobiles!”

Everypony snapped their heads to look, and Penitent groaned.

Twenty plus was the understatement of the century.

*****

Before the Procurator stood Iron Venture, Captain of the Royal Guard, and two junior guardscolts. Venture’s armour was even more ornate than that of his subordinates. Where the blue star normally was, a large Royal Crest, the same as the Princesses cutie mark had been crafted instead. From that crest hung a purple lanyard connecting to the captains left shoulder plate. The plume on his helmet was also purple, an homage to not only royalty, but to the ancient and (or so it had been) all powerful unicorn aristocracy.

Though he had felt disdain for them recently Courser had to admit that the guards were impressive looking. And admittedly, the newly appointed Venture and the newlywed Shining Armor had made at least more effort than their predecessor with regard to treating their duties with dignity. When Courser was close enough he noted with satisfaction that Venture saluted, and the other two came to attention. The satisfaction was dulled however when Courser noticed that the salute was not directed at him, at least not entirely.

Courser turned his head to see that another pony had entered from one of the doors on the side of the hallway. When he saw who it was, he groaned audibly.

“General Thorn sir,” Venture started. “I didn’t expect-”

“Neither did I,” Pierce Thorn stopped as he saw Courser. The enmity between Courser and the pegasus general was well known, and the two made little effort to conceal their opinions of one another. Where Courser was a conservative royalist and aristocrat, Thorn was a staunch militarist with a healthy distrust of civilians in any kind of authority. Not to mention his suspected ties to pegasus nationalist movements.

Courser spoke. “Ah, General Thorn, an honour to see you again. Rather confusing however, shouldn’t you be off firing live rounds into crowds of unarmed zebras or some such thing?”

The General’s reply was terse. “If I’m firing on zebra protesters Courser, it’s because they’re calling for your head. But as much as I enjoy our little ‘talks’ I need to see the Princess.” He turned his head back towards Venture. “Now.”

Courser replied indignantly. “As painful as I’m sure it will be for you Thorn, you shall have to wait your turn. I’ve been summoned by the Princess herself.”

Before Thorn could respond Venture spoke up. Ever the peacekeeper, the Captain recognized a volatile situation in need of defusing.

“I’m afraid he’s correct General. He does have an audience, at least an hour.” Venture noticed an annoyed frown forming on Thorn’s face and continued before the agitated soldier could speak. “However, I’m certain the Princess won’t mind taking a little extra time for you, if you’ll come back in an hour or so.”

Thorns patience was beginning to wear, and it showed. He spoke authoritatively with a calmness that belied the anger in his eyes. “Venture, this is serious. The real kind of serious. The kind that affects both of our jobs. Courser and his bureaucratic nonsense can wait!”

Venture opened his mouth to speak, but to his chagrin Courser’s tongue was quicker.

“If you had been listening, as I know you never do Thorn, you would have heard me say that the Princess summoned me. So clearly my, what did you call it, ah yes, ‘bureaucratic nonsense’ is a matter of some import to her. Now, if you’ll stand aside-”

“It was you wasn’t it? You’re the one who made this affront of a recommendation? Where will the bonus on your salary come from now I wonder?” Thorn abandoned calm and decided upon a more accusing tone.

Courser rolled his eyes. Every moment he wasted with this overgrown foal in uniform was another he would have to waste with the Princess. Letting the irritation that he felt seep into his voice, Courser spoke once again. “As usual, General, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talk-”

“Don’t play coy with me, Courser! Do you really have this much disdain for my ponies to taunt us like this?”

Courser stopped, shocked to hear the words that had come from Thorn’s mouth. Thorn’s statement was not outright sedition, but it was certainly implied. Courser looked to Captain Venture who nervously returned his gaze. His expression was practically begging Courser to let the comment slide, to walk into his meeting and act like he hadn’t heard. Courser understood the Captains concerns to some degree. His opinion of General Thorn aside, the stallion was... passionate. A verbal confrontation could rapidly devolve into another thing entirely. Venture had no desire for government officials to engage in a shouting match or worse on his watch.

Courser knew this, but he also knew that he couldn’t back down anymore. For months the military had been making a fool of him, and he wouldn’t allow it any longer. This arrogant wingnut needed to learn his place.

He took a moment to choose his words carefully. Despite the anger that he felt, it would hardly do to scream and swear at the General. The stallion had seen all manner of drill sergeants in his life and Courser had no illusions that he could be as intimidating as any of them. The General was stronger than him but Courser was his superior, both in rank and likely in intellect. The General was a civil servant before a pegasus and he needed to be reminded of this.

Keeping true to his instruction he maintained composure in the face of indignation. His posture changed very little, though he came closer to the General than he normally would when talking to somepony. Courser looked Thorn straight in the eyes (rare when the two were together) and began speaking in a stern tone.

“General Thorn, you forget yourself. You call yourself a soldier, but your conduct is not at all becoming of such.” Thorn attempted to respond, but Courser didn’t allow it. “Do NOT speak! Come to attention until I dismiss you!” The General did as he was told, and as he did so, Courser could see his anger building. “Every day since you received your appointment to the Security Council, you have disrespected me. You have disrespected my colleagues. And you have disrespected yourself. Regardless of your opinion of the aristocracy, you signed on to the Equestrian Armed Forces to serve the Princess and her representatives. You signed on to defend our ponies’ traditions from any threat. Now you threaten them yourself. General, you have made your political views no secret, and you have the right to hold them in private. But to publicly denounce the aristocracy in your position undermines the authority of Equestria and threatens the stability of our state. Your affiliation with known rebel organizations will no longer be tolerated!” The General looked legitimately surprised for a minute, as if he actually thought that his nationalist group had gone undetected. “Oh yes, I know. I’ve known for a good deal of time. You speak of ‘your ponies’ the pegasi, but I will remind you of this only once: ‘Your ponies’ are the same as mine. Your nation is the same as mine. The pegasi are not your ponies. They are Equestrians, as you too are Equestrian. That is what you serve, that is what you are, and you would do well to remember that. This council may not hold as much sway as we ought to, but make no mistake General, at the first hint of further sedition or disloyalty from you; I will ensure that you never wear a uniform again as long as you live. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The general wasted no time in responding, and using his best drill voice he shouted the only reply his training allowed him.

“Yes Procurator!” The General bit his tongue as soon as the words had left his mouth, he wanted to challenge Courser, but he knew that this was not the time or place, and he would gain nothing from the struggle. So Thorn did as he always did, he tried to contain his anger, and focused on the problem at hoof. Namely, how Courser had found out about the Pegasus Liberation Front.

Courser stared at him for a moment. He knew that Thorn would not take what he had said to heart, but at the very least the stallion would be more cautious, less willing to publicly denounce the court. When he was satisfied that his point had gotten across Courser ended the incident swiftly and concisely.

“You are dismissed.” Courser said, and Thorn saluted him. When finished with the General, Courser turned back the way he had been heading and shot Venture a glance. Venture said nothing and motioned to two of his subordinates to open the doors to the Throne Room for the unicorn.

Thorn held the salute as Courser entered the room, when the doors closed he dropped the salute and was silent. The silence remained until Venture was convinced that Courser was out of earshot. He turned to his subordinates dismissing them with a motion of his head, and turned back to face his colleague.

“What the HAY was that Thorn?” Venture exclaimed.

Thorn waited a moment to reply. He was still brutally angry, but he could not allow himself to lash at Venture when the blame was not his. The two had been friends for years, enlisting in the armed forces around the same time. Sharing a room at Officer Candidates School and even serving overseas in the same company on a peacekeeping operation. The two had had their disagreements, but Thorn would never think of questioning Venture’s loyalty or courage. Thorn decided to try and deflect Venture’s outrage with humour.

“That’s General Thorn to you, Captain.” Thorn said with a smirk.

“Oh, NOW you’re standing on ceremony then are you? After the only pony who gives a flying feather is already out of the room? Nicely done General. As long as we’re standing on ceremony, that’ll be Venture, Captain of the Guard of the Princess of Equestria, thank you very much.”

Thorn couldn’t help but laugh a little. Venture’s title, while prestigious, was quite the mouthful.

“Oh yes, very funny General. Let’s all have a good chuckle, all the way out to the field where the unicorns are going to drag us to be shot.”

“Ah ah ah, Captain, did you not listen to the Procurator? It won’t be unicorns; it will be Equestrians who take us to be shot.”

Venture was unamused. “A bullet to the brain is a bullet to the brain, regardless of the semantics. Stop deflecting me now. What in Celestia’s name could be so important that you almost triggered a purge over it?”

The use of Celestia as a deity was irksome to Thorn. And he allowed his disdain for the Princess’ divinity to seep into his response.

“I assume you mean, in The Lord of Light’s name?”

“Buck off with the Mithraism Thorn! Not here, not now! You’re getting cocky and it’s pissing the nobles off! How long until one of them finds concrete evidence about the PLF and brings you to trial for it?”

Thorn frowned. “That’s an excellent question isn’t it Venture? And while we’re on this train of thought, I have a much better one. How did our dear Procurator find out about the PLF?”

“You’ve not been nearly as discreet as you think you have General. In the last four months I’ve had to arrest three civilians in the group, and I’ve been shuffling soldiers around to different commands for nearly a year to keep them from getting caught. I had to give one of my best stallions to the dirt kickers because his Defender caught him reading ‘Arche’ on his downtime! If the Nobility had caught wind of it, he’d be in prison or worse. Oh, and in a week, we’re raiding your headquarters, so look forward to that shit show.”

“Which one?” The General asked casually.

Venture groaned. “Are you serious? You have more than one?”

“Which. One.”

“The warehouse in Las Pegasus that the army used to keep surplus ammunition in, near the old war museum. Neat choice by the way, incredibly subtle place for a militarist rebel organization to meet.” The Guard made no effort to conceal the sarcasm in the second half of his statement.

“Ah, no problem. You won’t find anything there save some storage compartments that I rent out occasionally. That warehouse is just a decoy.”

Venture let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the light; I was worried that the highest echelons of our army had been staffed with featherbrained idiots.”

Thorn laughed. “You should have a little more faith in my tactical abilities, old friend.”

“I did, back when we were on the same... never mind.” Venture fell silent

Thorn was silent a moment. “What do you mean?”

Venture stared at his friend. “Thorn, I don’t know what your plans are, but I know what the Security Council thinks when you’re not there.”

Thorn said nothing, waiting for Venture to continue. Venture waited for what must not have been longer than thirty seconds, but in the state of mind both stallions were in, it felt a good deal longer.

“Thorn, I... I know what the PLF was, I know how it started, and I remember the charter, so don’t lecture me on it. I helped write the bucking thing,”

Thorn was annoyed. Venture was not normally one to dance around a subject like this. He tended to be much more direct, which Thorn appreciated.

“Venture, whatever it is, say it.” Thorn said simply.

“Thorn, they think the PLF is more than it is. They think you’re going to target innocent ponies and government officials in an effort to achieve your goals.”

Thorn needed the ambiguity out of that statement, though he knew what answer he would get, he still asked. “Target in what way?”

“What way do you think you foal!? Guns, blades whatever. They think you’re going to kidnap ponies and bomb buildings. They think you’re a terrorist Thorn! And they’re terrified that you might have the military with you. Half of the Security Council thinks we’re on the brink of civil war!”

Thorn grimaced. That complicated things a great deal. He knew that the Security Council had been annoyed with the PLF, but he hadn’t fathomed how bad it could be. If Venture was right, an overreaction from the Security Council might not only get the whole PLF locked up, but a lot of innocent ponies could get caught in the crossfire. Not to mention Thorn himself would be offered fruit from Celestia’s fabled ‘banana bag’ in about ten seconds flat.

“Is it really that bad?” Thorn asked.

“Courser doesn’t seem to think so, he and his immediate colleagues just think the whole thing is insulting, but the CMP....”

Thorn nodded in understanding. The Celestial Monarchist Party were essentially unicorn supremacists, ultra-conservative didn't even begin to describe them. Courser may have been annoying, but as a member of the Royalist Faction, he could at least be dealt with. The Celestials were another matter entirely. They were the real problem in the Princesses’ Court.

“Thank you for the warning Captain. I’ll relay this through to the rest of the group, we’ll lay low for a while; hold off on publishing Arche until the smoke has cleared.”

“Is that... really all you do?” Venture asked with cautious curiosity.

“We aren’t terrorists, we have no weapons. All we ever do is discuss what goes into Arche next publication and try to find members of the Upper House to speak for us until we can get some kind of legitimate political representation. We’re strictly non-violent, and we’ve thrown ponies out over it before.”

Venture raised an eyebrow.“You’ve thrown ponies out because they were too violent?”

“Yes.”

“Can you give me names? Bringing them in may placate the council for a while.”

“Venture, can you give me the name of the pony you transferred for reading Arche?”

“Point taken, now back to the reason you came here.” Venture conceded.

Thorn knew it would come back to this eventually; no matter how far off on a tangent you got Venture he could find his way back to what he wanted to discuss. “Right, well, I heard a rumour-”

Venture looked outraged. “A rumour? You nearly got us arrested over a rumour?”

“That sounds bad, Let me rephrase that.”

“Damn right it sounds bad Pierce! It sounds like a Gavel hitting wood and an old unicorn finishing a sentence with ‘may Celestia have mercy on your soul’.”

“Iron, you’re overreacting. Let me finish. I received unconfirmed intelligence-”

“Somehow that sounds even worse.” Venture groaned.

Thorn dismissed the sarcasm. “I received unconfirmed intelligence that Celestia may be disbanding the Security Council.”

Venture’s eyes widened and a multitude of questions poured out of his mouth. “What? Are you sure? Why the hay would she do that? Who told you? Is she only going after the Council or will there be more?”

“Slow down! I’m not sure about any of that, I don’t even know if it’s happening, I came to ask her about it. I do have a theory about it though.”

Venture leaned back. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Right, well, you know the Transvaal peacekeeping effort we have going now?”

“Yeah, the Zebra-Boerperd conflict? What about it?”

“The civilians aren’t a fan of it, but Courser insisted that we help our allies in Vrystaat and Transvaal,”

“And you know, secure the mining rights to their gold reserves.” Venture smirked.

Thorn chuckled. “You’re a cynic. If it was about the gold we could just annex them.”

“Ha, you think the war is unpopular as is? Throw in annexing all the Boerperds and see what happens.”

Thorn nodded “Riots in the streets, I get it. But that's not the point, one way or another; the civilians don’t see the point of this war. All they see is a coffin coming home every month or so and an editorial about the stallion inside of it. They want the war to end, but the Court doesn’t.”

“Go on.”

“Anyway, Celestia’s been consolidating her power a lot recently; she’s trying to make the Court as irrelevant as she can, case in point, the actions of your predecessor.”

Venture nodded, he and Shining Armor had inherited quite the mess.

“So," Thorn continued. "Let’s say she were to take personal command of the military and withdraw from Transvaal altogether...”

Venture started to understand. “She’d have the public with her almost entirely. The great pacifist ending the unjust war. All she’d need to do is express that she wants reform and the whole damn nation will cry for it.” Venture shook his head in appreciation. “She’ll have the court by the throat, clever filly. The old bastards will have to pass whatever she throws at them.”

“Exactly. And we’re the fall colts.”

“Hmm, so you figured that all out on your own? You’re usually not a political mastermind Pierce, I’m impressed.”

Thorn kicked the ground a bit. “Uhh, actually, General Cuirass worked that one out, I'm just the messenger.”

Venture laughed loudly. “I should have known that came from Alabaster, he was always better at this political nonsense than either of us.”

Thorn nodded in agreement. “As much as I hate the bureaucratic crap that the unicorns throw around on the Security Council, I don’t think I like the idea of the entire military being solely under Celestia’s control.”

Venture looked at the stained glass windows of the Antechamber. He had served as a member of the Royal Guard for nearly twenty years and still the beauty of the castle windows astounded him. The artisans who had worked on them had treated them as a labour of love. Meticulous detail had been poured into each window and the tradition had been continually passed down through the ages since the castle had been built. One could hardly distinguish the most recent additions from those that had existed in the pre-Celestia era.

One window in particular caught the guard captain’s eye as he pondered the words of his colleague. The window was so large that from where Venture stood he had to angle his head upwards to see it all. The window depicted a beautiful cloudless sky and coming forth from the center, Princess Celestia wings outspread, whilst the sun rose behind her. The translucent glass was positioned on the eastern side of the room, so that in the morning when the sun rose, it would shine through brilliantly.

The majesty of the portrait humbled Venture as it always did. As uncertain as he felt about what Thorn had told him about Courser and about the PLF, the image calmed him somehow. Thorn had his reservations about the Princess, but Venture did not. Though he had only been a Captain of the Guard for a little over two years, he had noticed that Celestia had something about her. Her cool confidence, her friendly demeanor. It had all been enough to inspire faith in her leadership for Venture. Something about the Princess made him feel safe, which he would never admit to his nationalist comrade.

“Captain Venture? Iron? Are you listening?”

Venture withdrew from his train of thought and looked back at the General.

“Sorry, I, look, Pierce, there’s no sense driving ourselves mad over this. We’ll ask her, and if the rumours are true, we’ll try and.... sway her opinion.”

Thorn snorted. “Are you serious? Talk Celestia out of one of her plans? I’d sooner expect Courser to invite me to his birthday party.”

Venture smiled a little. “Pierce I need to go talk to Shining Armor about some new changeling countermeasures he’s working on. I shouldn’t be long, but try not to ignite a civil war until I get back alright?”

“I’d never do it if I didn’t know you had my back old friend.”

Satisfied, Venture trotted off to meet with his co-captain and let him know what had almost happened. Shining Armor, for a Captain of the Royal Guard, had been alarmingly naive when it came to Equestria’s political world.

All the better really, Venture thought with a shake of his head. Poor kid doesn’t need to get his head stuck into crap like this.

Author's Note

PLF= Pegasus Liberation Front. A non-violent nationalist movement hoping to achieve some degree of independence from Equestria.
Arche= Greek for 'top' or 'authority'. Refers to a nationalist publication run by the Pegasi, outlawed for its often inflammatory content.
Procurator: Usually one responsible for enforcing the law, in this case refers to a position similar to a secretary, in that the Procurator takes the minutes of the meetings, but different in that this procurator submits those same minutes to various oversight councils to keep the security council 'in check'.

Chapter Three: Officers Discourse

Gale looked toward the call out. His hopes that Private Shield had exaggerated the size of the enemy force were immediately dashed. A good 600 zebra were up on that damned hill to the south. Gale hadn’t even had the time to decide upon a course of action when Dwaal Klip, the stations attaché from Die Leër van Oranje, trotted over. He was an earth pony, unremarkable in appearance by Equestrian standards. Dwaal’s light brown mane verged on blonde, and his coat coat sat somewhere between brown and a dull orange. “Are we really going to do this meneer? We still have time to disengage.”

Gale looked at him. “Dwaal, either we hold here or Vrystaat falls. I explained that to you.”

Dwaal had a grim look on his face. “And I explained to you what the zebras do with their enemies. The concept of a POW is completely foreign to them. Once they engage, it’s fight, run, or die. No surrendering with the honours of war.”

“I get it Dwaal. You expressed your concerns quite well earlier at the O group, and when I said ‘duly noted’ I didn’t mean buck off, I meant duly noted. We don’t need to hold them indefinitely, just until the army mobilizes and sends a relief column our way. That ought to scare the zebras right off.”

The earth pony looked unconvinced. “Whatever you say Luitenant. You’re sure that the Coalition will send a column?”

Haha, no. Gale thought. 150 infantry ponies, led by a junior officer with only two years commission? And a pegasus to boot? They’d sooner send a relief column to extract Prince Blueblood from a bad mane day. Naturally though Gale had to pretend that that wasn’t the case. “I’m sure. Nopony gets left behind. It may take them a while, but they’ll get here.”

Dwaal looked at Gale a little longer, as if deciding whether he believed him. The Boerperd sighed after a minute and realized that he’d have to be content with what he’d been given.

“Very well Gale. I must say not many ponies ask me to fight for my damn life against impossible odds the very same day they meet me.”

Gale smiled. “Dwaal, I took you for the type who would take kindly to such an introduction.”

“I never said it was unwelcome. Zebras are the enemies of my blood. I’ve been fighting them since I was a colt old enough to strap on a cuff. I’m just not so sure about this whole ‘facing them in open field’ business.”

“Isn’t the point of this whole mess to make it so that colts don’t have to strap on rifle cuffs and fight zebras?” Gale replied with an air of skepticism.

“Bloody lot of good it seems to be doing. Peace through negotiation only works when everypony is willing to negotiate. How do you expect to end a centuries old-”

“Politics later.” Gale said as he turned his head back towards the zebra formation. “They’re coming.”

*****

Shining Armour was trotting about the castle, as he often did. His job as a Captain of the Royal Guard, while exhausting at times, could also be unimaginably boring. The weeks before his wedding had been an anomaly. The duty of casting the protection spell coupled with the oversight of the guard deployment had been almost too much. Though, in retrospect, there were other reasons that that particular period had been draining to him.

Shining shuddered as the memory came to him. He had spent nearly three weeks with... a fake. Chrysalis had threatened everything he loved, his nation, the soldiers under his command, his family, his wife. Cadance had been imprisoned for weeks, cold, hungry and alone in the crystal caves, and her ‘knight in shining armour’ didn’t do a damn thing.

Because he had been fooled.

He should have noticed the second something was wrong. The first time ‘Cadance’ had acted... strangely. That night when she had been out for too long, he should have gone looking.

Shining groaned. He continued to go over it all in his head, and it was becoming a nuisance. The honeymoon had been exactly what he needed after the ordeal, but he had nearly ruined it with all this ‘navel contemplation’ as Cadance had called it.

The honeymoon had been amazing, it was a nice little cottage in the mountains. Princess Luna had been put in charge of setting it all up. Just Shining, his wife, and the platoon of elite guards that Venture continued to swear up and down that he hadn’t sent. Shining had spent a lot of time on the balcony just looking out at the scenery with Cadance. His daily routine had been so different from military life that he had some trouble with it. The first morning he woke up, turned over to wake his wife, and remembered that Cadance (along with basically any other civilian pony in Equestria) wasn’t actually fond of waking up before her aunt had risen the sun. He then had to spend a whole three hours exercising and hiking around in the forest, when he came back, Cadance still wasn’t awake.

He fell into a proper civilian routine quickly though, welcomed the rest and most of all the solitude. Shining’s entire job consisted of talking daily to ponies who thought of him as a resource to be deployed. He’d go over operations orders, training schedules, deliver endless ‘security readiness reports’ to the Council, who understood none of it. Under such circumstances the company of other ponies can quickly become tiring.

Except one, he thought with a smile. Well except her and the guards, but they had been subtle enough that he could pretend not to notice that they were around. Shining had been annoyed at first, but he knew Venture was just being cautious. The Changeling’s weren’t gone after all.

The Changelings, one of Equestria’s most dangerous threats. Even though they had been defeated, they were still out there watching, waiting. The general population of Canterlot was ambivalent to their presence, but that was only because of the false sense of security that had been created when Shining and Cadance had ‘vanquished’, as the state newspaper had termed it, Chrysalis. Shining knew the real truth. The only reason the Equestrian government hadn’t implemented anti-changeling measures on a mass scale yet was because they had no idea how the hay to develop any.

Ever since his return from his honeymoon Shining Armour had been in charge of developing some kind of defence or countermeasure. He had ideas, some of them even plausible, but he hadn’t been able to try anything yet. For ideas to become reality one required money, resources, manpower, and time. All of those things the Security Council was unwilling to provide without absolute proof that it would succeed.

“Shining, I was just looking for you.” Iron Venture’s voice cut through Shining’s musings. He turned to see his peer, serious as usual.

“Iron, I thought you were watching the Antechamber for the Princess, something wrong?”

“Oh, just the usual, General Thorn and Procurator Courser were getting in a row,”

Shining laughed. “I’d be more worried if Courser and Thorn weren’t fighting if I were you Iron.”

Venture nodded, “Business as usual I know but it got bad this time. I thought Courser was going to tell me to arrest him.”

Shining cocked his head dismissively. “I say let ‘em have it out one of these times. Maybe it’ll teach them both to shut their damn mouths.”

“Easy for you to say, as long as you’re rutting with the big boss’ niece, you’ve got a job. Me? One buck up on my watch and it’s back to the weather patrol.”

Shining laughed again. Venture’s dry pessimistic humor never failed to brighten his day, ironically. “Anyways, you need something else?”

“Well, Princess Luna spoke with me yesterday evening, wanted to know about any kind of countermeasures...”

“I’ll tell you what I told her last week, what I told Thorn and Cuirass two days ago, and what I told my sister a month ago. Until the Security Council decides they actually want to commit to it, I can’t start anything up. I’m not even allowed to organize some kind of committee without permission. It’s a bureaucracy within a bureaucracy, and until one of them gives me something to work with-”

“I know, I know, buried in paperwork. Luna’s mane, within a month they’ll want to know why we haven’t been doing anything about this too. I can hear it right now, ‘Her majesty made you a captain so that you could exercise your initiative’”

Shining nodded grimly, the Council liked to make things appear to be the military’s fault by ordering action taken post factum.

Venture continued, changing the subject. “Anyway, no sense worrying about it now... Have you seen any of those new telegraph machines?”

Shining scoffed at the sudden change in topic. “Really Iron? Distracted by a shiny new machine?”

“Buck off. They’re brilliant. It’s like having a dragon but better.”

“How is it better?”

“Because it doesn’t eat all your food or try to burn your house down. Or grow into a rampaging death machine.”

Shining’s skepticism showed. “I don’t get why we need them really, we can use dragons or pegasus couriers instead.”

“I just explained why dragons aren’t okay, plus, how many dragons enlisted last year? I think that number may have been just shy of zero. As for pegasus couriers, they take time; we’re fast, but not here to Transvaal in a day fast. Also the machine doesn’t need to eat or sleep.”

“The operator does.” Shining scoffed.

“Which is why the good Celestia invented shifts. At any rate, you really need to learn how to work these Shining, apparently they’ll be standard for all stations before long.”

Shining groaned. That meant a qualification course, which meant two days of sitting in a classroom as opposed to doing his job. “Fine, let’s go play with your new toy.”

“Yaaaaay!” Answered Venture in a mock colt’s voice. “It’s in the east wing of the guard barracks, on the second floor.”

Shining rolled his eyes and followed his co-captain.

Author's Note

Die Leer Van Oranje= Afrikaans, The Army of Oranje. (pronounced Or-ahn-yuh) Vrystaat Oranje is one of the two Boerperd republics in which Equestria is engaged in peacekeeping operations.

Chapter Four: Skirmishing

Courser entered the Princess’ study. The room was rather quaint for his tastes. It had several cushions, a nice lectern, and some bookshelves, none of them really all that special. Celestia was often quite austere which suited Courser just fine. Affluence, in his experience had a tendency to breed.... Blueblood types, as opposed to useful administrators. He saw the Princess reading a book, which he recognized to be An Inquiry into the Causes and Nature of the Riches of Nations, by the fire.

“Your Majesty. I am truly sorry I’m late. I was... delayed.”

Celestia smiled at him. “It’s no trouble at all Procurator. Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea?”

Courser smiled in return. “That would be lovely, thank you.” As curious as he was, Courser knew protocol. Pleasantries first, then business.

Or at least that’s how things happened normally. Celestia was a special case.

Courser levitated the tea over to himself and took a sip. He recognized that it was Earl Grey, his favourite. For a moment he allowed himself to wonder if Celestia had somehow known this, and chosen the tea deliberately. He quickly dismissed the notion, it was mere coincidence.

“This is a very interesting read,” The Alicorn said, indicating to the book.

So it would be niceties then. Very well. “I would tend to agree, I read it myself when I was quite young, no less than fifteen if I recall.”

Celestia looked impressed. “Fifteen? Awfully young for such a calibre of work.”

“My 10th Grade Economics teacher mentioned it, called it the foundation of modern economics. Since so much in the course seemed to be derived from it I thought that it would be a worthwhile read. I was correct.”

Celestia gave a short chuckle. “Very studious of you Procurator, you remind me of a pupil of mine. There are times I feel I can hardly keep her away from her books.”

Courser knew of course that Celestia was referring to the Element of Magic, Twilight Sparkle. Her tenure as the Princess’s student had become somewhat legendary. Not to mention her numerous services to the Equestrian State and her contributions to the field of magical study. While not a student of the arcane arts himself, Courser had read her bachelors thesis, and could tell that she possessed a significant degree of intellect. “Well, I’m sure your student could find fewer pastimes more rewarding for herself than academia.”

“She has recently broadened her horizons somewhat, but if I know her well, the studying will never truly end, the subject will simply shift with whatever interests her.”

Courser smiled and nodded. “I found myself in a similar position during my studies. I must have switched majors four times.”

“It was five, if I remember correctly. From Philosophy, to Sociology, to Economics, to History, and finally to Political Studies. Few can call themselves more versed in the equinities than you. Your marks were also quite impressive.”

Courser was taken off guard. “You... have my transcripts?”

“All of them, from the very first kindergarten report card, the one which called you shy and unwilling to interact with other foals, to your master’s thesis on the Cloudsdale Crisis. I couldn’t in good conscience allow you to serve on the body responsible for Equestria’s security without knowing as much as I could about you.” Celestia said with a smile.

Courser tried to hide his concern. There was more here than Celestia had told him. The master’s dissertation made sense, but all of his transcripts back to kindergarten? It seemed to him highly unlikely that Celestia would peruse the academic history of his life over his appointment to a minor administrative position.

The young politician searched for a reply but none was forthcoming, the smile and formality faded from his expression. The moment was all that Celestia needed to begin their true meeting.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, Procurator.” Celestia said.

“The question had... come to mind, Your Eminence.” Courser said, regaining his composure.

Celestia let out a short laugh. “Your Eminence? That’s a particularly cliché honorific, one I hardly expect from you.” Celestia closed her book and levitated it onto the lectern. “Courser, let us be frank for a moment, I am well aware that I have garnered little support from the nobility in recent months. Your own Royalists have found themselves quite at odds with me on several occasions.”

Ah, it was that kind of meeting then. Courser closed his eyes and breathed in, bracing himself and conjuring a response. “Princess Celestia, surely you know that the Royalists are devoted to you and to Equestria. We only want to see that the ponies of this nation are served as best as possible by-”

“Courser, I didn’t bring you here so that I could listen to a prepared speech about your party policy. I’m not going to send you to the moon for being open with me.”

Courser was annoyed. This put him in an awkward situation. He was a relatively new member of the party. At only 25, that he had managed to attain even the minor position he held was something of a miracle. To tell Celestia what the popular opinion regarding her policies really was could put the party in jeopardy: If Celestia were angry enough, she could dissolve the current House of Lords and Cabinet, and install another of her choosing. Probably one filled with the bloody liberals. And it would be Courser’s fault. Bringing down a government was a sure-fire way to bring a promising political career to a grinding halt.

Lucky for Courser, however, Celestia had underestimated him. She had assumed that his youth would make him susceptible to suggestion. That approaching him in such a frank manner would make him feel comfortable enough to open up, or perhaps that he would let his guard down and slip. Courser was disappointed. Celestia’s manipulative skill was well regarded amongst the Party, but he had spotted this tactic with ease.

“I cannot speak for my colleagues; the position of my party remains that which I have already said. I do not know what more you think I should say.”

Celestia leaned in close, almost uncomfortably so. Her smile had not faded, and Courser maintained his in spite of the tension. “I think you should say what you really think. I think you should tell your Princess the truth. Don’t you?”

“Everything I have said-”

“Is a half-truth. Is technically correct, in your line of work, the best kind. You have talent, Courser, but don’t waste it on such nonsense.”

“Princess Celestia, if the purpose of this meeting is to ask if I have confidence in your abilities as monarch, I hardly think my opinion should hold any weight. I’m not even a member of the House of Lords.”

“That’s not the purpose of this meeting at all. Forgive me for any confusion.”

Courser knew that what she had said was not a mere slip of the tongue, she was testing him.

“Would you describe yourself as a conservative, Courser? Not your party, you, personally.”

The question was unexpected, and unnerved Courser much more than the previous one had. His own political views? They had always been mostly irrelevant. All that mattered was conforming to the party lines. Endearing himself to the majority so that he could rise and do what he could for the country, where he could. What was his agenda then? Conservative may not, on reflection, have been the best description but certainly not liberal.

Courser was annoyed that he found himself falling into the idiotic left vs. right dichotomy of politics. Only the ignorant believed that it was simply a liberal vs. conservative game. He was also annoyed that he really had no answer for the Princess. After having taken so long to consider it, he knew she would see ‘conservative’ as a cop-out, and anything else, she would know he wasn’t sincere.

Naturally Courser attempted to avoid answering directly. “If you’re asking why I joined the Conservative Party-”

Celestia cut him off. “I am not. I am however wondering why you deflect the question Courser. What are your views on government? On politics? You can’t honestly tell me you’ve been an active politician for seven years and haven’t even given thought to how you would run this nation, if given the opportunity”

He really was cornered then. Courser sighed, and admitted defeat. He drew in a short breath and came up with the only answer he could. “Je ferai ce que je dois, dès que je peux.”

Celestia smiled. “Monsieur le Procureur, que va faire tout à fait bien. I have a proposition for you, and I think you will find it most interesting indeed.”

*****

“COMPANY! READY!” Gale bellowed. On his command there was no hesitation. In perfect synchronization, the soldiers at Drift Station widened their stance and lifted their firing legs. The position of ready did not require the weapon to be sighted, which contributed further to their increasing anxiety.

Come on sir, Penitent thought, just let us shoot already. Penitent could see the advancing zebra horde coming closer and closer. Part of him wanted to fly off like a coward, another part wanted to start shooting now and get it the buck over with. Neither instinct managed to take precedence over years of training. One might have expected him to search for advantages, rationalize why he shouldn’t have been afraid, but he took no comfort from his superior weapons and armor. Nor any from the 4 foot high wall behind which he stood, and even more bizarrely, no comfort from his previous combat experience. It would be inaccurate to say that he took any comfort from anything at all. The only thought on Penitent’s mind was the distance at which his enemy stood from him, the commands coming from behind, and the two stallions to his left and right.

Penitent’s thoughts were interrupted by another command from Storm.

“COMPANY WILL FIX BAYONETS, FIX-”

Shield and the rest of the soldiers reached for, and grasped their bayonets.

“BAYONETS”

At once the bayonets flew from their position on the soldiers belts to beside the barrels on their cuffs. Penitent slipped the ring of the bayonet around the barrel of his own cuff. A moment passed in that position, the silence broken quickly by Corporal Flourish.

“Steady does it lads; mark your targets as they come.” Flourish knew that the squad didn’t need to be reminded of this, but he also knew that they needed to hear something, any voice at all. The reassurance that they were not alone, that they were being watched as they prepared for battle, had been known to work miracles.

“LOAD!” Came the next command from Knight Lieutenant Storm. Penitent opened his ammo pouch with his mouth, and placed a round into the breech of his weapon.

Only a few more seconds.

The advancing zebra began stomping their hooves. Not in time and in sync like more traditional equine armies, but in a constant thundering rumble. Closer to the sound of a train than a drumbeat. The zebra started a chant, Penitent couldn’t make much of it out, and it just sounded like noise to him. There was clearly structure to it, almost as if it was their equivalent of an attitude check, and it was obviously rehearsed. Come on you shrieking devils, Penitent thought grimly. You’re only a few yards out of the real killing zone, that’s it.

Gale had similar thoughts. Dwaal had warned him against fire profligacy. In the opening moments of the battle, the zebra would undoubtedly try to measure the strength of their opponent. They’d count the Equestrians guns to determine, roughly, how much firing power Gale had. While it was a necessary evil to provide this information to them (Gale had no intention of passing up an opportunity to thin the enemies ranks when he was outnumbered like this), he wanted to make sure that the information came at a price, and was as vague as possible. The plan was for two full volleys from the south wall at the advancing hostiles. Strong volleys that would put as many as possible down as quickly as possible, followed by independent fire that would mop up what the volleys missed and (Gale hoped) be difficult to count.

Of course, that wouldn’t work unless the enemy got in the damn kill box. They were well within range of the Equestrians rifles, (a pony sized target at 600 yards was completely doable) but Gale wanted maximum damage. That normally meant 200 yards, but in this case, Gale was looking for something even closer.

Finally, one of the elder zebra with a long beard amongst the formation called out, and his troops responded with a short hoot. The zebra hooves beat angrily against the dried dirt as they began to charge. Well, Gale thought. No time like the present...

“NORTH RAMPART, STAND FAST. SOUTH, VOLLEY FIRE, AT 100 YARDS....”

Gale waited as the soldiers on the rampart took aim.

Sweat dripped from Penitent Shield’s brow. They were right there, in his sights, he knew damn well that he could drop one at 120 yards. Why the hay had Storm thought that 100 was a good idea? It was madness to wait until the enemy was so close.

“FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIREE!!!”

There it came, the order that they had all been waiting for. Penitent let loose upon his mark, a tall zebra trying to race his buddies to the Equestrian position. Even the hardiest of weather pegasi would shirk before the thunderous sound of the volley that came. The crack of the rifles reverberated for miles, and the smoke from the barrels clouded Penitent’s vision momentarily, before drifting away with the wind. Once the smoke was completely gone, Penitent had mixed feelings. On the one hand, his mark was nowhere to be seen, probably indicating a good kill. On the other hand, the zebra were advancing regardless.

Gale wasted no time following up on the volley.

“RELOAD!”

Penitent popped a second round into the breech and as quickly as he could took aim at a new mark. This time he chose an older looking zebra, brandishing his spear towards the heavens as if presenting a bull’s-eye on his own chest. Gale waited only eight seconds, unusual as the convention was to allow ten, before giving his next order.

“FIRE!!!”

Again a volley burst forth from the Equestrian’s rifles, all, Gale noted with satisfaction, loaded and sighted despite being given two seconds less time than they had trained for. Yet more zebra fell; now much closer to the Equestrian line, Penitent could hear their screams of agony. Though he didn’t exactly understand what must have been zebra curse words, the cry of death on the battlefield knew no language barrier. The screams elicited no feelings of remorse. They only served to steel his determination. Those screams could very easily be his own in a few moments.

“RELOAD!”

For the third time today Penitent loaded his weapon. With ease he did something that thousands, or millions of ponies back home found appalling, he had already taken at least two lives today and thought nothing of it. No ethical considerations crossed the soldier’s mind as he prepared to trade another life for his own. Basic survival instinct met ingrained military discipline, and turned his mind onto the smallest, simplest considerations of the moment. Take the bullet from the pouch, Penitent thought, his body cranking out the actions with an almost mechanical precision. Nice and easy, careful not to drop it. Open up the breech and slide the round in, lock the breech and lift her up again. There, that one that just passed the rock, he looks promising. He’s down next volley.

For a fraction of a second it occurred to Penitent that he was identifying his enemies less by their appearance than by their position in the line. They all looked exactly the same to him, not because of their coats or faces, but simply because they were the enemy, the bad guy, the target. They didn’t need to have faces or souls, just positions in rank and file.

Funny, Penitent thought. With all this armor and discipline and uniformity, they must think the same of us.

Penitent pushed such thoughts from his mind immediately. Ponder later, right now was the time for killing. His snap back to reality came just in time for Gale’s next order.

“INDEPENDENT, FIRE AT WILL!”

As he prepared his shot, Penitent noticed yet another smile out of his friend Zephyr, but not an annoying one. This time it was almost... unnerving. Zephyr’s mouth had curled into a smirk the moment he had heard the command, and he cocked his head to face Penitent.

“Nice of him, eh?”

Author's Note

Meters have been used previously in the story, but Gale gives commands in yards. This is done deliberately to highlight how antiquated and behind the curve Equestrian military doctrine is in comparison to the country's technological progress.

Chapter Five: Lines of Communication

Shining tried to make sense of all the machinery in the room. Coming from a household that had used magic extensively (he had once been grounded for trying to do his chores without magic... sort of), he had never really seen this kind of technology. The only encounter with any kind of modern machinery he had ever had, was once when he had aided in the arrest of a couple of con ponies with some kind of cider machine. And the train of course.

“So... are you going to explain any of this to me?” He said to Iron.

“Me? Buck no. I’m not even entirely sure how the wheels on a cart work, let alone a telegraph machine.” Iron scoffed.

“I don’t want to know how it works; I want to know how to use it.”

One green maned earth pony at a telegraph station turned around to face Shining. “If I may sir, you don’t really need to. That’s what we’re here for.”

Shining was straight faced. “I’m listening.”

“Sapper First Class Chatterbox-”

Shining cut him off. “Are, are you serious?”

“Sir?”

Shining raised an eyebrow. “Your name.... Chatterbox? And you’re a communications technician?”

“Due respect sir? You’re a Captain of the Royal Guard and your name is Shining Armour.”

Venture stifled a laugh, and Shining shot him a look, the pegasus acknowledged his partner’s death glare with only a shrug. Shining turned his head back to the technician. “Point taken, carry on Sapper.”

Chatterbox continued. “I can tell neither of you want to hear the tech babble, so I’ll just jump right into it. See that little stylus there? Every time you press it down, it sends a signal through to another telegraph. Tap it quickly, it sends a short signal, slightly longer, and it’ll send a longer signal. Here, I’ll send one to that other machine across the room.”

Chatterbox demonstrated, tapping the machine’s needle down with his hoof several times in succession.

“Now, Sapper Fiber over there at Station Three, is about to-”

“So does your mother, Chatter.” The Sapper’s comrade said casually. Shining gave Chatterbox a flat look, to which the Sapper shrugged.

“I told him that his sister said hi.... sir.”

Shining smirked. Engineers were known to be eccentric in the REA and these ones were so, in an endearing sort of way. A lot of officers would be highly off-put by the casual mannerisms of these Sappers. Shining didn’t care much however, they seemed competent enough. Results were what mattered, not means.

“So, mind telling me how you tapping your hoof a dozen times turns into an insult to your friend’s family honor?” Venture said.

Chatterbox turned to Iron Venture. “Well, the machine can only send the one signal, so what we do is create equivalent sets of long and short signals for each letter in the alphabet. It’s called Morse Code, so S is three quick signals or dots, A is a dot followed by a longer signal, or a dash, and B... well the whole thing is available at the library or with the Weather Control Bureau. Anyway, since it takes time to send a full message, we use a lot of the same abbreviations and acronyms that you’ll find in dispatches. If you want to know all of those, you can get them from the WCB, they developed... well, all of it.”

Venture looked a little puzzled. “Seriously? I was a Patroller for eight years, never saw one in all that time.”

Chatterbox shrugged. “As far as I know sir, it’d be at a higher level than the average Patroller. I’m pretty sure they used it so that observation and command posts could keep each other current on weather situations, and then the CP’s relay to their patrol teams what has to be done.”

Venture nodded, satisfied with the Sapper’s answer. Eight bucking years on the Patrol and he’d never been told that they had these damn things. Typical.

Shining spoke up again. “So, what you’re telling me Sapper, is that I don’t have to actually do anything and you and your friends will take care of all these high-tech non magical... things, for me?”

“Basically sir.”

“Soldier, stallions like you are the reason why they invented good conduct commendations.”

******

“Cobalt,”

“Yes dear?”

“I think we’re lost.”

“Yes dear.”

“Should we try to find a travelers way station or something?”

“Yes dear.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes dear.”

“Cobalt!”

Cobalt Crescent stopped walking and turned around to face Sugar Heart. His wife’s red mane was a complete mess, and her fur, normally a beautiful soft green, was muddied up in a particularly bad way. Cobalts three foals didn’t look much better. This ‘camping trip’ had been an absolute disaster, as far as family vacations went, and any sane father would have been appalled at the very thought of an overnight in the Everfree Forest.

But then again, any sane father wouldn’t have chosen a career that forced him to lie to his family about ‘vacations’.

Cobalt had argued for three straight hours with his boss about this one. The raised voices and stamping hooves probably could have been heard all throughout Canterlot. “It can’t look suspicious Cobalt! You know that! A lone unicorn from the capital decides to just stroll through the Everfree Forest with his camera? You’ll be made in an instant! You need to bring them with you! If it’s going to be dangerous then take precautions, minimize the risks! That’s your job isn’t it?” His boss had ended with that. Not ‘I’m sorry I’m asking you to endanger the most precious thing in the world to you’. Not ‘everypony in Equestria is counting on you to do this without arousing suspicion’, not even ‘don’t worry we’ll have a cover team close by’. Just ‘minimize the risks’.

Minimize the risks. What a joke. It was as if nopony in Canterlot had even heard of the Everfree forest. Griffins weren’t the only problem; they weren’t even the most serious one. The real problem came from the beasts in the forest, Cockatrices, Manticores, Hydra, not to mention dangerous cliffs, ancient rope bridges, and the ever present dark energy that even a relatively magically-challenged unicorn like Cobalt could detect.

Thank the Goddess his family were all earth ponies, or their discomfort would extend well beyond some grime and fatigue. The whole forest just felt... wrong. He had heard the theory that it was the absence of magic in the area, that unicorns were just so attuned to being around magical energy that its absence was a discomfort, but it was a complete load. Cobalt had been to Zebraland, right before the war started. Not a unicorn to be found there and it certainly hadn’t felt like here.

The presence of magic in Zebraland (or rather lack thereof) had been liberating. It had felt almost as if one suddenly had much more air to breathe. Cobalt could only compare it to walking out of a crowded room and into an open field. The energy in Equestria (Canterlot especially) always felt stale, and used, while Zebraland had felt fresh and free. The Everfree forest was neither of those things. It felt more... tainted than anything else. Cobalt simply had no description for what was wrong with it, all he knew was the sum of his very limited magical instinct was telling him to leave this place and never look back.

But that just wasn’t the job.

Cobalt realized quickly that he had been staring at his wife for a good 20 seconds without saying anything. He was about to break the silence, when she broke it for him.

“Cobalt, we are unquestionably lost, and I do not like the look of this place.”

Cobalt rolled his eyes; the nagging was a part of marriage that even after nearly 20 years could still manage to irk him.

“Would you relax? I have a map right here in the saddlebag.”

Sugar rolled here eyes right back, annoyance seeping into her voice. “Well you’ve obviously not been reading it properly. This place looks nothing like what your friend described to you.”

“That’s because we’re not there yet, it’s still a good ways away.”

“‘A good ways’? What they hay does that mean?”

“Would you calm down?” Cobalt said, frustrated with her persistent complaining. “It means what it means!”

“Cobalt, I-” She paused for a moment and looked at the foals. She sighed and took a breath in. Sugar looked at him seriously, and spoke in a tone that implied a carefully repressed fury. “I need to speak to you alone.”

Cobalt looked aside for a moment and then nodded. “Alright. Kids? Your mom and I need to have a talk. So stay right here until we get back okay?”

Blue Moon, Cobalt and Sugars’s eldest colt, gave his father an understanding look. Blue was almost seventeen, and perfectly understood the ‘talk’ that his parents were about to have. Cobalt motioned with his head towards Blue’s two sisters, Sweet Heart and Rosebud. Though no words had been said between the two, the meaning was clear. Blue was to keep his sisters safe, and where he could see them. It wasn’t only because Blue was the oldest. Cobalt had a good deal of trust in his eldest foal. He was strong, and had been training in martial arts for five years now, and had seriously discussed with his father joining the Army Reserve, or one of the civilian police forces. Most of all though, he was smart and resourceful, and was the only member of the family who realized that his father was more than the ‘post office mail sorter’ he had claimed to be.

About two years ago, Cobalt had received a new model of pistol cuff. Just like his previous issue, he had brought it into the basement and proceeded to tear it apart to familiarize himself with its inner workings, and try and get a sense of how difficult the mechanisms would be to work with in the field. He had been so engrossed in the weapon, that he had neglected to lock the door, and Blue Moon had walked in on his father disassembling a lethal weapon. Blue had, however, had the sense not to mention it, and pretend like he hadn’t seen.

Blue responded to his father’s gesture with a nod, and turned to his sisters. “Come on girls, anypony want to play 20 questions?”

Cobalt watched as Blue led his sisters a few meters away. The unicorn then turned around and guided his wife through a relatively sparse bit of underbrush. He stopped in a clearing, where he still had a fairly good view of Blue and the fillies. Sugar looked at him and spoke firmly.

“Cobalt, this is a disaster.”

Cobalt tried to avoid eye contact, casting a nonchalant look at a particularly uninteresting piece of foliage. “You’re exaggerating, besides, you were the one that told me I need to spend more quality time with the family. Now that I think of it, I recall this whole disaster, as you call it, was your idea.”

Sugar glared at Cobalt. “Don’t you play that card on me! I wanted to go to somewhere nice! Like Manehatten, or the Gallopagos, or, or, anywhere!”

Cobalt looked at her and gave her a mischievous smile. “I heard an anywhere in there, this counts as-”

“Another word, just try it.” Sugar pressed her face up against her husbands, her forehead pressed firmly against the bridge of his snout. Her pupils were tilted up to maintain her death glare, and with her so close, it was incredibly difficult for Cobalt to continue evading her gaze.

“Come on, Manehatten? It would have been just like Canterlot except more beggars and pickpockets. And I don’t know how much you think I make, but a trip to the Gallopagos...”

“And I suppose you think we’re all having loads of fun right now hmm? Tired and dirty and lost. Sooo much better than relaxing on the beach or shopping in Longacre Square-”

“Again we encounter the money issue...”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT AND YOU KNOW IT COBALT!” Cobalt’s sarcastic tone was beginning to wear on Sugar’s patience. He always did this in arguments, kept himself calm and witty, because he knew it infuriated her more than any measure of yelling and cursing ever could. As much as Sugar knew that her husband was trying to push her buttons, she couldn’t help but raise her voice.

Cobalt took a step back, a little surprised by the outburst. He shot a look towards the foals, all of whom were looking towards their parents wearing concerned expressions. He hated having fights in front of the kids, they always got the wrong idea. It took a lot of effort convincing them that Mommy and Daddy weren’t about to get a divorce over where Daddy had left his wallet or something stupid like that.

Cobalt took a moment to consider the situation. He knew his wife was right, but he couldn’t agree with her, at least not until he did what he had been sent out to do. But his family were tired, hungry, annoyed, and worst of all, potentially in danger. All Cobalt had in the way of weaponry was his very limited repertoire of combat spells, and the pistol cuff at the bottom of his left saddlebag; enough to frighten off animals or fainthearted bandits, but less than useless against a Manticore or Ursa Major.

Cobalt let the sarcastic smile fade, and did his best to make it a sympathetic one instead. As he did this, the anger in Sugar Heart’s expression melted away in short order, but was replaced by a pleading look.

“Cobalt, please,” Before she continued she sniffled a little, and Cobalt became genuinely concerned. He had misjudged the situation with his wife. He’d figured that she was just uncomfortable, and annoyed with her husband, but when he dropped the evasiveness and the sarcasm, he became attentive enough to notice that her eyes were watering.

Cobalt stared speechless at his wife of nineteen years as she struggled not to cry. The sight of her like this cut into him as deeply as any knife. He could take her being annoyed with him, being playfully frustrating was one of his favourite ways to show her he cared, and make sure she cared enough to point out that he was an idiot. But this, this was different. Cobalt couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this distraught.

She spoke again, her words broken by sniffles and light sobbing. “Cobalt I, I know what you wanted... what you tried to.... I... Cobalt this is just so awful. It’s not your fault, really, but we’ve been in here for three days now. Digging latrines to go to the bathroom, spending hours trying to make campfires to cook our meals, and hiking around aimlessly. I’m scared Cobalt! I really am! We’re lost in the Everfree Forest! And we have no idea how to get out! Doesn’t this worry you even a bit?”

Cobalt wrapped his foreleg around her and pulled her towards him. When she was close to him, he leaned in to her ear, and whispered in a soft tone, as reassuring as he could possibly make it. “Sugar, Sugar, listen to me. We’re going to be fine, alright? We’re going to be just fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know Cobalt, but, I-”

“Shhh, just, quiet for a moment. Let it out. We’ll be alright love, just... take a deep breath.”

As Sugar sobbed into his shoulder, Cobalt cast a look back at his foals. Despite Blue Moon’s best efforts, the two fillies looked absolutely terrified. Cobalt couldn’t blame them at all. This was all his stupid fault. It was time to end this gong show. Now.

Cobalt patted his wife on the back and pulled away a little, removing a topo- map which he had marked with four places he ‘wanted to see’ from his saddlebag. The family had arrived at three of the locations so far, but the fourth was at least a day’s journey. Cobalt looked at the map for a moment, contemplating his next move. He looked up and stared deeply into his wife’s pleading eyes. The sight of her like this turned his insides to lead, and in spite of all his training and emotional preparation, Cobalt felt sick with guilt.

He had followed orders, as any good agent was expected to. But those orders had neglected the safety, comfort, and well being of his family. There was only one ‘next move’ here for him.

Cobalt opened up his right saddlebag and levitated a handkerchief to his wife.

“Alright, dry your eyes, okay? It’s all going to be alright, let’s just go get the foals, and then try and find a way out of this mess.”

She looked at him gratefully. “So we’re finally going home?”

“Yeah,” Cobalt said. He dipped his head a little and looked at the ground, ashamed that he had taken this long. “Let’s go home.”

Author's Note

Sapper = Engineering equivalent rank to Private.

Chapter Six: Holding The Line

Gale ducked away from an incoming spear blow. The stone tipped assegai flew past, narrowly missing his ear. After the first round of skirmishes the Zebras had come in force and closed to melee distance, the situation had been rapidly deteriorating ever since. The Zebra facing Gale thrusted for him once again, this time Gale reacted by moving quickly to the side, and gave a quick return jab with the bayonet attached to his rifle cuff. The knife found its way between two ribs just over the Zebra’s left foreleg, and Gale quickly retracted it. A nice clean parry and a textbook kill.

Of course, said textbook probably left out the part about the bloodcurdling scream that would escape the victim. As the Zebra fell to the ground, he let out a yelp of pain and a string of noises that could have been anything from gibberish escaping the mouth of a felled creature, or the defiant final words of a defeated warrior. Gale didn’t know or care what the Zebra had to say, if he had indeed said anything at all, there were too many more to deal with to contemplate any one.

Another of Gale’s own lanciers (armed with melee weapons instead of rifle cuffs to address the eventuality of close combat) moved in front of his commanding officer to hold back incoming warriors. This gave Gale a much needed moment to assess the situation.

The Company’s carefully constructed fortifications had all but collapsed. The redoubt was still (thankfully) standing, allowing a fallback position in the event the situation deteriorated further, but to retreat into it would be to cut off any possibility for escape. This wave of attackers had been the strongest yet, and so far the only wave to close to melee range, Gale estimated at least 700 zebras had been committed. If they could just drive this group off, the Impi they were facing may decide that their casualties were too great, and withdraw.

That assumed of course that they could hold off this wave. They’d come in hard on the southeast perimeter, and despite Gale committing all but two of his platoons to the makeshift rampart and firing like mad (at one point he’d been giving about seven seconds between each shot), they reached the defenses, and managed to gallop onto them. The fighting had been brutal to try and keep them off of the wall, but eventually through sheer weight of numbers, Gale’s soldiers had been pushed into fighting within the compound. Now a chaotic melee was underway, as it had been for a good fifteen minutes. The pace was frantic and confusing, and any hope of fighting in order or formation had been abandoned in favor of single combats between warriors. These duels were not, however, the focus of Gale’s attention.

Gale took the risk of flying about three meters in the air (dangerous and highly discouraged in melee as it made you an easy target) to try and get a sense of what was going on. A quick glance to the enemy formation on the hill made it obvious that the rest of the Impi was holding off. The Pegasus could only speculate on the reasons why, though some sense of honor was probably involved. It was no great proof of a Zebra commander’s skill that his four thousand could kill a hundred-fifty in a charge. Whatever the reason, the beleaguered Lieutenant was glad for the small mercies. He was not, however, glad for what he saw next. A group of Zebras that had not yet entered the compound to join the melee were heading in the direction of the hospital structure.

It was a bucking nightmare. There were still wounded ponies in there, nine of Gale’s own, and two natives. The Officer had no troops available, the whole company was committed. But Dwaal had made very clear what happens to wounded on a Zebra battlefield, and Gale had no desire to find the innards of soldiers he was charged with protecting and preserving adorning the walls of the only military hospital for over thirty kilometers. Better to have them adorn the walls of the church. Much more religiously proper and a last stand in a church would be a propaganda artist’s wet dream back home.
One way or another, the call had to be made. It was on Gale, as the Officer Commanding, he was responsible for the lives of his soldiers. Gale scanned the carnage, and picked out the first set of Corporal’s stripes he could find.

“Corporal Flourish!” Gale called out.

“SIR!” Flourish replied, as he struck the side of a Zebra’s head with his right hoof.

“GATHER YOUR SECTION! NOW! I NEED THE HOSPITAL EVACUATED!”

Flourish considered explaining that he was clearly in the middle of something, but as much as it sounded heroic in adventure novels and war films, talking back to your OC in the middle of a combat scenario was decidedly inadvisable.

“YES SIR!” The Corporal shouted. He managed to get a solid enough jab in to take down his foe, and then levitated his whistle up to his mouth. He gave two blows, hoping to Celestia that his section were both alive and listening.

“FOURTH PLATOON, SECOND SECTION! RALLY TO ME!”

About eighteen meters away, Penitent Shield rolled his eyes. He couldn’t exactly rally while he had a shrieking striped monochromatic monster trying to tear his throat out. Logically that matter would have to be dealt with before he could respond to the command. The Zebra in front of Penitent had other ideas, however. It backed away from Penitent for a moment, but before the pony had a chance to collect himself, the Zebra let out a shrill cry and dove toward him, assegai outstretched.

Penitent dove to the left, raising his right hoof to deflect the spear. With all his might he thrust the bracer on his right foreleg into the Zebra’s spear. Metal met wood, and turned Penitent’s opponents forward momentum against him, forcing the Zebra into the dirt. Not even taking a moment to catch his breath, Penitent reared on his hind legs, and with a guttural roar, brought his forelegs down onto the terrified warrior’s head.

As he completed the kill, Penitent’s eyes met that of his adversary for the first time, the anger and determination of a trained warrior had disappeared, replaced only by the frightened stare of a being confronted with its own mortality. Penitent’s hooves connected with his quarry, and with a satisfying crack, ended this little melee.

Penitent drew back his hooves and adopted a more comfortable position. In spite of his adrenaline, he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. The blood of the Zebra warrior had covered his boots, and leaked onto his legs. Penitent reeled for a brief moment at the sight of what he had done, speechless and breathless, unable to take his eyes off of the prone warrior. Having participated in actions before, Penitent had taken life in the past, but never this close, and never with his own hooves.

His pondering lasted only a moment as he saw Zephyr Whisk run by. Relief at his friend’s survival surged into Penitent, and snapped him back to some semblance of lucidity. He followed Zephyr to the Corporal, who wasted no time with their next orders.

“Hostiles closing on the hospital lads! We need to move the invalids to triage in the church! Come on, we’ve not much time!”

Penitent noted that, miraculously, the entire section was present. Thank Celestia for that, Penitent noted as they moved towards the hospital, we need every single one of them.

*****

It had seemed a great deal longer than an hour since Procurator Courser had entered the Princesses study, and Thorn was tired of waiting. He had half a mind to storm into the study and invent a ‘national security threat’ just to get a moment of the Princesses time. Something involving Griffins, or possibly Diamond Dogs.

Luckily, the Daring Doo serial coming to life in the General’s mind was not necessary, as Courser emerged from Celestia’s chambers just as Thorn got to the part with the Diamond Dog death squads.

Thorn rolled his eyes. And spoke impatiently to the young noble. “Muddy hay, that took long enough, what could you two have possibly been doing for all that time?”

The smirk didn’t even fade from Courser’s mouth. Nothing the cantankerous old Pegausus could have possibly said would dampen his mood in this moment.

“You’ll know soon enough, my dear General.” Courser said with confidence as he walked past the soldier.
“You’ll know soon enough.”

*****

“So what else can it do?” Shining asked curiously.

“Sir?” Chatterbox replied, puzzled.

“Does it... like, only do messages? And only the dots and dashes?”

“That would be a yes sir.”

“And.... how much did it cost again?”

“Not a feathered clue sir. I just push buttons and fix it when it’s broke.”

Venture spoke up. “Doesn’t matter how much it costs. What matters is I wanted to learn how to use it, and I got something better. Ponies who I can tell to use it for me.”

Shining shot him a look, and Venture shrugged at him. The Unicorn captain rolled his eyes and laughed a little.

The engineer who had been complicit in Chatterbox’s demonstration spoke up, but less casual than before. While not outright frantic, the engineer’s voice had become businesslike and urgent as he called to his immediate superior.

“Uhh, Chatter, I’ve got something coming through you might want to take a look at.”

“Let’s see it.” The same transformation occurred in the previously flippant soldier as he headed over to his subordinate. Shining felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw this professional manner among the sappers. For all their foolishness, they were soldiers, and soldiers did their jobs.

After looking at the message for a moment, Chatterbox turned to the two officers.

“Captains, I think you’ll want to hear this.”

“What’s the problem?” Shining asked.

“One of our outposts in Zebraland-Transvaal is under attack.”

Venture took over the questioning. “Which?”

The sapper looked back to the message. “Drift station. They claim to be outnumbered 30-1.”

“Luna’s mane!” Shining exclaimed. “How long ago was this sent?”

“Can’t be more than a couple minutes sir,”

Venture spoke up again. “Drift station is under command of Major General Bristle’s staff officers, Knight Commander Kami Sai. I know him, he’s a solid officer. He’ll be able to-”

“That wasn’t the name of the OC on the Telegram sir.”

Venture was taken aback. “What? He should be there, it’s his post.”

“The message was sent by a Knight Lieutenant identifying himself as the Officer Commanding drift station, by the name of Gale Storm.”

“Gale, what? Who in the hoof is that?” Venture asked, worried.

“I’m afraid I don’t know him sir.”

“I do.” Shining spoke up.

Everypony turned to look at the Unicorn captain.

“I know him. Those troops are in good hooves. How many did he say he has?”

“About one hundred fifty sir. But he’s claiming they’ve not got enough rations or ammunition for all of them.”

“He’ll need relief as soon as possible then. Where are nearby allied forces?”

“Last I checked sir, Major General Bristle called a load of them back to Winberg for some kind of training exercise.” The sapper said.

“Do we have any forces in Equestria that could be dispatched?” Shining asked Venture.

“We have I Corps, but it’ll take them a day to get to ready status, and another three to actually get there. The other two corps aren’t anything close to what you would call combat ready.”

Shining started. “And the Royal-”

“Don’t even go there. You take a single platoon of guards out of the capitol right now and we’ll have a mass panic. Not to mention the Security Council will have both our heads on a stake.”

“Then I guess Bristle’s training exercise is getting cut short. Sapper!”

“Yes sir.”

“Put a telegram through to the coalition base. Instruct them to send a relief column to Drift Station ASAP. Use my name rank and service number, 11301765.”

“Right away sir.” The sapper communicated the order to one of his subordinates with nothing more than a nod.

Venture spoke up. “Shining, not to be the rules lawyer, but perhaps you recall that your rank in the REA is equivalent to a Colonel?”

“What’s your point?”

“Last I checked Colonels can’t give Generals orders.”

“Does it matter? They’ve got colts on the danger line that need relieved.”

“Fair enough, but be careful, Major General Bristle has a.... reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?”

“The pompous, entitled kind.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I can’t imagine him letting it get in the way of doing his job. Soldier first right?”

Venture stared blankly for a moment. And then shook his head.
This is why they shouldn’t allow ponies under the age of 30 to be senior officers.

*****

Penitent slammed against the door to the hospital with all of his might. With a crash of splintering wood, the door disintegrated and he stumbled through into the ‘foyer’ (really just a desk and staircase). Zephyr Whisk, Corporal Flourish, Dolce Di Mezzo poured in once the door was opened. The other four members of the section were holding outside the building, providing cover fire and keeping an egress route clear. Zephyr stormed to the bottom of the stairs, aiming his rifle upward. Dolce and Flourish took the door to the central hallway, and Penitent turned 180 degrees to watch the door he had just broken through.

One by one the four called out the all clear, and the Corporal wasted no time giving his orders. “Di Mezzo, Whisk! Clear the second floor and get up on the roof, keep an eye out and give us a signal when you feel that there’re too many.”

“What’s the signal Corporal?”

“Improvise.”

“Understood.”

“Shield, you’re with me, we’ll clear the infirmary.”

Shield nodded and tagged along behind his section head. The two went down the hallway, similar in design and style to the one in the command post (the military was not known for their architectural creativity) towards the infirmary. The door was already open, and four stallions inside were on their hooves firing out windows. Penitent did a quick survey of the room. It was about ten by fifteen metres, with beds taking up the majority. There was very little room, but some beds had been moved around so that the able bodied stallions could have room to fire and reload at the windows.

There were twelve patients in the room, six fully ambulatory, who were at the windows, another four who appeared to be mobile, but not enough to fight. Two hadn’t even been stirred from their beds by the clamour of the ensuing battle. As Penitent was trying to think of a way to move them, he heard a banging and thumping on the walls. Not too uncommon in the infirmary, as somepony was usually trying to amuse themselves by making noise, but when Penitent looked in the direction of the noise, he noted with a groan, that the Zebras were breaking through the plaster.

“Corporal! We’ve got a problem.”

“I see it. You lot!” He turned to the wounded. “Who’s senior?”

One of them responded timidly, and indicated to one of the unconscious stallions. “Uh, that would be him sir.”

“Lovely. Private, you’re in command of these wounded now. Carry those two out to the church, and get yourselves there as well. Avoid the fighting as best you can. Your only job is to stay alive. Penitent and I will hold back the Zebras.”
No sooner had he finished than a section of the wall began to cave. The wounded private stood in front of the corporal with a blank look on his face.

“GO! NOW! We’ll be fine!”

The wounded obeyed, lifting the unconscious patients and supporting those having difficulty walking, they began to make for the entrance to the hospital. Flourish, with a war cry Penitent hadn’t thought him capable of, rushed toward the fresh hole in the wall, bayonet outstretched. The first Zebra through the open hole was met with only the Equestrian soldier’s bayonet as it cracked through his skull.

Penitent rushed to the aid of his section head, firing a round into the breach in the wall. Though he hadn’t aimed at anything specific, at less than ten meters his .68 calibre rifle made enough of a mess that he wouldn't really need to. A yelp of pain came through from the other side of the wall.

For about a minute they tried to keep the Zebras back, but with each passing second it became clearer that they wouldn’t hold for long. The breach was widening, and soon enough the Zebras would be able to come through two or three at a time. Penitent contemplated pushing over a bunk bed as a kind of barricade, but before he suggested it, he smelled smoke.

“Uhh, Corproal, do you-”

“Smell smoke? That I do lad. I’m going to assume this is Private Whisk’s signal... perhaps I should have been more specific.”

Penitent looked up to see that the damn roof was on fire. Flourish should have been a hay of a lot more specific.

Flourish looked up a second later.

“Oh not good. I recommend a hasty advance directly away from the enemy.”

Penitent had no choice but to agree with Flourish’s recommendation.

The two turned to leave, but as he started for the door, Penitent heard a cry of pain, not from a Zebra, but from his own section head.

Penitent frantically turned back to see that a spear was stuck through Flourish’s side, pinning him to a wall. Before he could even move to help, Flourish brushed him off.

“GO!” The Corporal exclaimed, abandoning his usual propriety. “Argh, go, bloody go right the buck now!” He slammed another round into his rifle and fired towards the breach, as Penitent stood there dumbfounded.

Flourish looked at him with fire in his eyes, and as Penitent remained rooted to the ground, the Corporal roared at his subordinate.“AAAAARGH! MOVE IT LANCE CORPORAL THAT’S A RUTTING ORDER!”

Penitent turned and ran. No more thought on his mind but escape.

As Penitent ran through the hallway, he heard the battlecries of the Zebra warriors as they closed on Flourish, he heard Flourishes own shouts of pain and defiance, he heard at least two shots, and finally he heard a short yelp, as one of the Zebras found his mark.

He stumbled out of the entrance and found Dolce Di Mezzo slumped over holding on to a nasty wound. In a moment, the responsibility he had just inherited took control of Penitents mind, and he addressed the soldier.

“Di Mezzo! You good?”

Dolce looked up with a grunt, and spoke between breaths.

“Yes, Lance, I, I’ll be alright, I fell off the roof and hurt my leg, I can still walk and fight, I don’t need triage.”

Penitent thought differently, but decided this was no time to order one of his only fighting-fit men to lie down when others needed attention more.

“Fine, where’s Whisk?”

“Zephyr’s still on the roof, there are Zebras up there with him.”

“What? Didn’t he set the roof on fire? Why the hay would he stay up there?”

“Not... quite what happened Lance.”

“Bucking great. The Corporal’s down, get the cover team back to the rest of the unit, I’ll haul Zephyr’s stupid flank out of there.”

“Down, Lance? As in...”

“He bought us time, don’t waste it. MOVE.”

The Private did as he was told, with a slight limp, but nonetheless effectively.

Penitent turned back towards the hospital, the roof now largely engulfed in. He could vaguely make out the shadow of equine figures battling atop it. Any sane Pegasus wouldn’t even attempt a landing in the middle of a fire, too many unpredictable factors even without a bunch of zebras trying to skewer you.

Then again, spending even a week with Zephyr Whisk was more than enough to drive one past the brink of insanity. Penitent took off, bayonet hoof out in front. As he rushed towards the Zebras on the roof, the flames parted around him, the rapid displacement of oxygen momentarily choking them. This gave Penitent a split second window where he could see three figures fighting in a desperate melee as the fire spread around them. One of them wore iron armor, and was in a disadvantageous position. Zephyr was fighting well, but clearly reaching the limits of his endurance. Not to mention he couldn’t maneuver properly for fear of catching fire.

Penitent swooped in on the Zebra closest to his friend, his bayonet making contact with the creature’s jugular. As the Zebra gasped uselessly for air, its fellow reeled in surprise at the sudden intervention of the airborne assailant. The surprise gave Penitent the time he needed to turn around and deliver a full force buck with both hooves at the other Zebra. Before Zephyr could even react Penitent flew over him and combat lifted him, tucking his forelegs beneath Zephyrs, and clasping his hooves over Zephyr’s chest. He then took off, turning back towards the Equestrians, who had actually managed to get into something of a formation again, thankfully.

Zephyr was about to speak, but Penitent cut him off quickly.

“If you so much as smirk, I’m dropping you.”

*****

Author's Note

Regarding Shining Armor being equivalent to a Colonel. Follow this link for some background on the rank structure of the Equestrian Military, with minor commentary and NATO equivalencies. https://docs.google.com/document/d/10aZYAIqnJgkenD5PXxhAq1Jl1CXfbDNJLv5gnVjkBMk/edit

Chapter Seven: Holding Position

“Knight Commander, we’re receiving a telegram from Canterlot.”

Kami Sai, a dark grey coated Pegasus, turned around to face the Sapper on the telegraph machine. “To whom is it directed?”

“It is specifically instructing Major General Bristle to send a relief column to Drift Station.”

Kami stood puzzled a moment. “I was not aware that Drift Station was under threat.”

“Apparently they’re under attack sir. The situation appears to be urgent.”

“How urgent?”

The Sapper relayed the situation at the outpost, eliciting a deep breath and grimace from the veteran officer.

“Why would they not contact us immediately if they were under attack?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know sir.”

“Very well. I shall inform the General at once. Inform the Commanders of Able and Baker companies that they should be ready to move on my order. Keep Charlie on standby.”

“Yes sir.”

Kami left the room, not quite at a canter, but at a purposeful gait. The very fact that he was in Winberg through the course of this battle was a great dishonor. Drift station was his post, and by rights he should be there with his whole battalion. The stallion in charge, Gale Storm, was not even a senior officer, nor was he technically a combat officer. He had always been more of an ‘extra’, standing in for other officers when needed and aiding in the battalions administrative duties. To take such an untested young stallion and put him up against such impossible odds as had been relayed to him was neither fair nor honorable.

The Knight Commander arrived at the Major General’s office, to find Bristle’s Adjutant, a faded yellow earth pony by the name of Fall Harvest sitting at his desk.

Upon seeing Kami, the Adjutant came to attention and saluted, which he quickly returned.

“Knight Commander, I wasn’t-”

Kami cut him off. “No time. Where is Major General Bristle?”

The Adjutant looked nervous. “Uhm, sir, Major General Bristle is in his quarters, and has asked not to be disturbed...”

Kami was furious. “Chikushō-me, has he got some native whore in there again?!”

Fall Harvest was silent. His job, ever since his deployment had begun, had basically been to aid the General in concealing his ‘antics’ as best as possible. While he hadn’t enjoyed it, he had been party to enough of it to implicate him should disciplinary action be taken against the officer.

While he said nothing, the look on his face was enough to communicate his fears to the Knight Commander. It was all Sai needed.

“Wait here.” He said simply.

Kami stormed off. The Major General had been a useless commander, more interested in spectacles and news stories than actually directing the peacekeeping effort. He had abused the power of his station in numerous ways before, and ultimately made an utter nuisance of himself. Fooling around with native women while he was supposed to be on duty was the least he was capable of.

Months of this had been simply too much. The motley collection of forces that made up Equestria’s contribution to the peacekeeping force was under strength and poorly organized. Though a Knight Commander, and fit, at most; to lead a battalion, Sai had been doing the work of a Colonel. Directing the operation of a force roughly the size of a small regiment. The Major General’s insistence on being useless had certainly not helped matters.

As dishonorable as the General’s conduct was, it would have been even more so to disobey or in any way subvert the will of one who was above Kami’s station. Regardless of the burden it heaped upon him, Kami Sai, and all of the Equestrian military, was bound by the chain of command.

Kami came to the General’s quarters, and to his disgust he could hear the audible (and unmistakable) sounds of a ‘liaison’ taking place within. He rolled his eyes, and then knocked on the door.

Without any response from inside, (aside of course, from the ongoing grunting.) Kami knocked again.

A gruff, winded voice responded this time. “What is it?”

“Major General, there is an urgent situation requiring your attention.”

“Kami, is that you? Deal with it yourself; I was not to be disturbed.”

“Sir, we have received a telegram from Canterlot. They’re specifically instructing you to come to the aid of one of our outposts.”

There was a rustling as the General emerged from his bed and came to the door. He opened it enough so that Kami could only see his head. The action had the effect of making him look like a foalish teenager to Kami.

“Is this the Drift Station issue?”

Kami was taken aback. “You knew?”

“Of course I bloody did. The telegraph operator on shift told me four hours ago.”

That explained why the night operator knew nothing of the incident. His day counterpart had relayed the information and assumed it had been acted on. This whole mess was a travesty of organization.

“Then you’ve already dispatched a relief column sir?” Kami asked skeptically, unaware of any departures from the base.

“Of course not!” The general said in a huff. “That’s exactly what they want us to do! This isn’t a real invasion, it can’t be. This is an attempt to draw us into the open so they can surround us like they did to that Boerperd force two years ago. Mister Storm is buying us vital time to fortify our position here. If we make Winberg a fortress, then the enemy may well not engage us at all. We need only outlast them, they’ll raid, of course, such is their way, but they’ll have no hope of defeating us.”

“And where do the Boerperd civilians fit into your strategy sir?” Kami asked with poorly masked disdain.

“Filthy earth ponies. They’re the foals that decided to live here. Our job is to preserve the peace, not run around defending helpless villagers that exacerbate the conflict purely through their existence.”

Kami was absolutely appalled. This was a new low for the General. He clearly just couldn’t stand the thought of being afield for more than a day. His foolishness had been a nuisance before, but this was the first time he had ever thrown lives away on a whim (at least, openly). The racism was nothing new, however; though he had convinced the Council of his loyalty, Bristle was one of the most ethnocentric pegasi Kami had ever met.

Kami gritted his teeth and continued.

“Canterlot seems to disagree sir; they’ve given us instructions to relieve Storm.” He seethed.

The General became indignant. “Unicorn pansies place me in charge of the operation and then tell me how to do me job. Who gave the order? Was it Alabaster Cuirass? He always had it in for me... No, this came from the Council themselves I’d wager, Chairpony Pact, probably, or that little shite who got us into this mess, Courser.”

“Sir, the order comes from Captain Shining Armour of the Royal Guard, he insists that-”

“Wait, Shining Armour?” The General burst into laughter suddenly. “That limp-horned beckin’ youngster? What the hay does he think he’s doing, ordering me around? He has one job, to protect the Capital, and he clearly can’t even do that properly, they should have hung him from the castle tower after the Changeling attack.”

“Nevertheless sir, he has given us instructions.” Kami tried to press the matter, but the General dismissed him.

“He doesn’t have rank on me by any means. Inform him of this, and threaten him with a court martial on the charge of insubordination if he presses the issue.”

“Sir, I hardly think that-”

“Enough, I’m tired of this beckin’ bickering. You are dismissed. Carry out my orders or you will be next to face charge of insubordination.”

Kami scowled, but he knew his place. He saluted the General, who proceeded to slam the door in his face.

The officer felt ashamed. Further service to this idiot dishonored every member of the peacekeeping task force. All of whom were able soldiers who deserved an equally able leader. The very idea of leaving an ally, and a subordinate who you had sworn to protect, no less, to die at the hands of a savage enemy was utterly disgusting. In the days of the ancient Pegasus Empire, he would fall upon his sword for an act this shameful.

But this was not the Empire. This was the Principality of Equestria. Generals were not selected for their honor or skill; their appointment came due to political reliability, willingness to follow the most idiotic and senseless of orders. And of course, malleability. If they could not be controlled, it was wise not to give them power, so went the logic of the nobility.

This was not the first time politicians had gotten soldiers killed in the name of expediency, nor, Kami noted with displeasure, would it be the last.

As he returned to the war room, the other officers present could sense the outcome of the meeting based only on the anger in Kami’s voice.

“Sapper, send our reply to Canterlot. The General wants a message relayed to Captain Armour.”

Author's Note

Beckin' = Bucking with an Irish accent.

Chapter Eight: Nightfall

Night was a mixed blessing for the soldiers at Drift Station. On the one hoof, the zebra had disengaged somewhat. On the other hoof, they had no idea where they had disengaged to. The fire in the hospital continued to rage, giving them about thirty meters of sight, but beyond that there was only blackness. Some looked to the moon and prayed hopefully. Others tried to fire into the blackness where they may or may not have seen something move. Gale was tired, just as they all were, but he made an effort to conceal it.

Nopony had been given leave to sleep. The risk was too great that the zebra would infiltrate the compound somehow and cut their throats. Even if he had given leave for them to sleep, not a single stallion could have found it in him to do so. The only thing holding the soldiers back from falling apart was their dependence on each other. Tired, bloody, scared, and at the end of their endurance, their only solace was the knowledge that they were not alone.

Barely a word was spoken between any of them. They shared what little rations they had left, sorted out ammunition for the next day, and kissed pictures of their loved ones in silence. Most watched their Commander intently, as if waiting to see if he would break. It was unnerving.

In less than a day, Gale Storm had gone from the stallion who sorted out issues with the quartermaster to a kind of surrogate father. Any doubts or fears soldiers like Penitent Shield had had were dispelled as more waves of hostiles had failed to break them. Every single soldier at the outpost believed in their Lieutenant, and trusted him to make up for their fatigue and fear.

Gale’s only problem was he had no idea how to do that.

He walked over to the silhouette of a hat which he knew to belong to Dwaal.

“Well?” He asked.

“Well what?” The Boerperd answered curtly.

“Your bloody thoughts that’s what, why else are you here?” Gale regretted his short-tempered statement immediately after it had escaped his mouth. But Dwaal seemed to shrug it off.

“You’ve done exceptionally well luitnant, only six casualties so far. To be honest I wasn’t sure if we would last an hour, let alone nine. No matter what happens next, be proud. You’ve done what many wouldn’t dare try.”

“I’m not sure about that ‘whatever happens next’” Gale said.

“Honestly? Nor am I. They’ll hit us with everything they have tomorrow. Just after dawn. They’ll wait for full light and they won’t stop this time. You’ve angered them. No more waves, no more games. This isn’t about tactics anymore. They want you dead. And don’t go getting any heroic sacrifice ideas. They want to defeat you and kill you to prove that they can. You’re a worthy opponent, and they won’t settle for anything less than a worthy struggle.”

“I’m honored.” Gale said sarcastically.

“You should be. War is a hobby for ‘civilized’ ponies. For them? It is life. It is all they know. Their respect is a testament to you, their attack tomorrow will be as close to a parade in your honour as you’ll see out of them.”

Gale speculated on that. As awful as the situation was, the romantic in him (imparted on him entirely by a certain white unicorn) saw something impressive in it. He was reminded of all the stories his father had told him of the Pegasus Empire, the wars and battles he had read about. With commanders of opposing forces saluting each other before the fight, and showing respect to captured prisoners, treating them as fellow warriors. The quarrels were not of soldiers, but of politicians and nobles.

A lesson from his father came to mind. “Fight them Gale, fight them with all your heart, but never hate them. To hate your enemy is to cloud your judgment, to let revenge or bloodlust take away your reason and sully your honor. To face your enemy, no matter who they are, or what they have done to you, as equals is the only way to understand them. And you cannot defeat that which you cannot understand.”

Gale looked to the sky. Even at night it was immeasurably beautiful. It was home, no matter where in the world he was the sky stayed with him. The freedom it represented hung but a flap of his wings away. But still he could not go there. If he tried to fly, the weight of his burden would only bring him back to those he led. His only way forward was into battle, the only concern he could allow himself to have was to get his soldiers out of this alive.

Gale took a deep breath and steeled himself once again. He took a final look at his sky, and said one word softly, and lovingly, to all that he had held dear in his heart before this day; a short list, but still moving to the young soldier. As he came to terms with what tomorrow would likely bring, he spoke.

“Goodbye.”

*****

“That dick! That featherbrained asshole! That tiny little Kerry Bog motherbucker!” Shining seethed. “He’s not even sending a platoon!”

Venture sighed. “I know, Shining, I read it too. You seem to be forgetting the threat of court martial.”

“I could care less about that. Those things work themselves out. Soldiers dying because some prick decides to hang them out to dry doesn’t!” Shining caught his breath for a minute. “We need to get there! How quickly can we get I Corps out if we rush it?”

“Four days was a high end estimate. I’d bet closer to a week before we could get anything more into Transvaal.”

“It’ll be over by then! They’ll be dead and it’ll be our fault Venture!”

“I have no argument with you Shining! But what are we supposed to do? Bristle made his intent clear. He’s holding. And he won’t be swayed by you.”

“We’ll send the Pegasi in the Royal Guard! If you go as fast as you can, you may be able to-”

“Shining, we won’t make it. It’ll take us too long to organize and fly out, and you’d be on the chopping block back here,”

Shining’s frustration exploded. “THEN I’LL GO MYSELF! If you aren’t willing then I’ll do whatever I have to! I am NOT letting Equestrian soldiers die because of that gasbag!”

“Would you do yourself a favor and for once in your life think with your head rather than your heart? You’ve been given a direct order. Even if you don’t get killed on your little crusade, you’ll be tried for insubordination and probably treason. You’ll be disgraced, probably exiled, and maybe even executed. I am not going to be the one to tell Princess Cadance that her husband deserted and betrayed the crown.”

“In what bucking world does saving lives count as a betrayal?”

“A stupid one! A brutal, unfair, and infinitely bucked up world! Unfortunately, it’s our world and we have to deal with it! Orders are orders!”

Venture hated more and more having to play the devil’s advocate with Shining. The young soldier’s idealism was admirable, and his frustration was perfectly justified. If it had been him at the same age, he would have gone in a second. No questions and no argument. To save a trapped friend he would have faced down the whole Impi himself.

Shining withdrew for a moment, looking defeated, and Venture felt awful. As the unicorn spoke again, he removed his helmet, letting his mane hang out. When his words came out, Venture could hear the meaning in them, the desperation in Shining’s mind came through as his voice wavered.

“Iron, Gale Storm... he’s more than a friend. I owe him my life, I owe him my career, I owe him everything. I can’t just sit here and let him die, not after everything he’s done for me.”

Venture had no words for his friend; nothing could ease the pain of a lost comrade. Especially under such idiotic circumstances. The old pegasus soldier said what he could, all that, after years of seeing this kind of loss, he had ever learned how to say.

“I’m so sorry. I understand, Shining. You can’t let yourself take the blame for this. I know it hurts, but you have to remember, you’re doing your job. You’re just...” The next words felt like poison as they left Iron’s mouth. “following orders.”

Shining looked utterly crestfallen for a moment. And Venture felt the sting of what he had said like a cut through his own heart. A beat, maybe a second, and Shining looked up. A mischievous smile across his face.

“You’re right, Iron Venture, Captain of the Guard of the Princess of Equestria, I am just following orders.”

Venture was perplexed. “Uhm, maybe you shouldn’t take... that much comfort in it.”

“No, I think you misunderstand. I’m but a servant of my superiors. And they are but servants of the Commander in Chief.”

“Shining, what are you thinking?”

“I’m just attempting to enact the will of our wise, beautiful, benevolent ruler. Didn’t you see her in here a minute ago?”

Venture’s eyes widened as he realized what his partner was planning. “Shining, NO. Remember the treason talk? Impersonating the Princess counts. ”

“Sapper!” Shining called out.

“Sir?” The soldier said.

“Instruct the forces at Winberg to send relief to Drift Station at once!”

Venture cut in. “Shining, this isn’t going to work, you haven’t even got-”

“Royal Directive, authorization tag SOL1316.”

“Her... security tag... HOW THE HAY DO YOU KNOW THAT?”

Shining smiled. “How did you put it? ‘Rutting’ with the big boss’s niece? It’s got its perks.”

“There is NO reasonable conversation you could have had in which that would have come up!”

“Uh, sir?” Chatterbox pointed out. “I’m under obligation to point out that this is an illegal order...”

“I assume full responsibility. Do it.”

“Right away sir.”

Venture looked at his friend. “Alright... well, I guess we just go on about our business and forget this ever-”

Shining cut him off. “Captain, I’ve just impersonated a member of the Royal family, issued an illegal order and disobeyed a directive from a superior officer. I’m guilty of treason, insubordination, and... Uh, impersonation of a member of the royal family. There’s a room full of witnesses. I’m turning myself in.”

Venture rolled his eyes. “Or that’s what we WOULD do if you didn’t bucking go and turn yourself in and make this official! Dammit Shining you imbecile, you’re bound by law to stand down!”

Shining nodded with dignity. “I understand.”

We need to take you to see the Princess.

“I think I need to be booked, not have a royal audience.”

“If she gives you a pardon, then maybe you won’t have to fall on your sword for your friend.”

“He’s done the same for me in the past.”

Venture shook his head. Why was nopony listening to him today?

*****

Kami Sai remained at his post. Nightfall had just come, the last light of dusk had finally been extinguished and the moon had begun its rise. Kami had little to do other than think on the day’s events, so naturally he meditated. Doing his best to turn anger into energy, he sat on his haunches; eyes closed, and let the bustle of the war room fade into the back of his mind.

He could not, however, expunge his frustration entirely. The General’s foalishness and casual disregard for pony life caused him great anger, which caused him further anger at his inability to maintain his focus. The vicious cycle eventually caused Kami to abandon meditation entirely. Soon after he took back his post, the Sapper called out again.

“Sir? We’ve received new instructions from Canterlot.”

Kami sighed. “What’s the point? Bristle won’t listen to anyone less than the Princess herself.”

“Funny you should say that sir.”

Kami raised an eyebrow curiously and inspected the telegram. After only a moment, he smiled.

“Assemble Able and Baker. We move out in 20 minutes. Bristle be damned.”

Author's Note

Liutnant = Afrikaans for Lieutenant.

Chapter Nine: The Brink

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.”

Chapter Ten: Separated

Cobalt walked calmly through the woods. No longer having to feign being lost in order to reach his objectives, he could actually use the map he had been given properly. If his family noticed how suddenly he had learned the art of orienteering, they had elected not to comment.

It had momentarily crossed Cobalt’s mind that he would have to explain his failure to complete one of his objectives to his supervisor. But that became much less important to him than tearing a strip off of the idiot.

A familiar, yet out of place sound reached Cobalt's ears. While it escaped the notice of his family, the trained agent recognized it anywhere. He heard metal clicking mechanically, in the way that only a firearm did.

Cobalt stopped dead. And after a moment his family did the same.

Sugar Heart walked up to her husband. “Cobalt, why are we stopping? Is something-”

Cobalt placed his hoof over his mouth and made a soft shushing noise. The blue unicorn’s horn glowed as he cast a spell. A favorite in his line of work, the softhoof. It generated an aura around ones hooves that caused them to make no sound and leave no visible imprint on the dirt. He inched ahead slowly and cautiously. After about four meters Cobalt found himself at the crest of a small valley, and in its trough, he saw the source of the noise.

The unicorn cursed under his breath. He had hoped it would be hunters, or possibly Royal Frontier Rangers, but the worst had come to pass. In the valley below the worried father stood three griffin sentries, armed and alert, searching the woods for something.

Hopefully that ‘something’ wasn't an intelligence agent, because that would indicate that not only had the mission been compromised, but that Cobalt had gotten his entire family into even more trouble than he thought he had.

Cobalt quickly tried to think of a way out of the situation. His own pistol was breech loaded, had there been only two, he may have been able to take down one of them and use a spell to incapacitate the other. But that left time for the third to shoot him. If the office had had the decency to spring for a revolver action pistol, he may have been able to handle this adequately. Cobalt was no tactician, and though he was a proficient fighter, he could hardly handle all three griffins on his own.

Yet another reason why he should have at least had a cover team. But that was irrelevant now. Cobalt knew he didn’t have the ability to cast the spell over his entire family, and if they ran, the griffins (what with being able to fly) would undoubtedly catch them.

That left only one option, one Cobalt wasn’t a fan of. He walked back to his family and looked his wife in the eyes.

“Sugar,” Cobalt said as sternly as he could. “I want you to take the kids and the map. Get as far away from here as possible and hide. If I’m not with you in 20 minutes get the hay out of this forest. do you understand me?”

“Cobalt, what’s happening?” She asked frantically.

“Do you understand me?” He repeated, firmly.

Blue spoke up angrily. “Dad, what the buck is this?”

“Blue, I have something for you.” Cobalt opened his saddlebag and levitated the pistol cuff out. His son’s eyes widened and a look of terror came across his face.

“Dad, I- what-”

Cobalt cut him off. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

“I... I guess? Why do you even-”

“That isn’t important right now. Do NOT use this unless you have to. Here are the extra cartridges.”

Sugar shrieked hysterically at her husband. “Why the hay do you have a gun!?”

Cobalt looked at her solemnly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I got us into this. In all my life I’ll never be able to make this up to you, but right now I need to get you home safe. Do you understand me?”

Sugar was sobbing now. “Cobalt, please tell me what’s happening!” She pleaded.

“I can’t, there isn’t time. All I can tell you is that you need to do what I’ve said, please. It’s the only way out of this.”

“Out of what?” Sugar sobbed. “Please, Cobalt, you’re terrifying me! First you bring us into this forest and run us around day and night through the trees, and now I find out you've been carrying around a gun?”

Cobalt grabbed his wife and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Listen, please, listen to me. I made a bad choice. And I know I can’t fix it, but at least I can keep you from getting hurt on account of my stupidity. No matter what happens, Sugar, I’ll always love you, I love you so, so much, and that’s why I need you to go.”

Sugar was at a loss for words, she stood still, dumbfounded by her husband’s cryptic behavior. She understood nothing about his sudden change in character. The casual, sarcastic stallion she had married was nowhere to be seen. Instead was a serious, urgent one waving a pistol cuff around in front of his foals.

Cobalt kissed his wife on the cheek, and whispered into her ear. “I love you.” He let her go and turned his head towards his son. “Blue, I need you to get my saddlebag to my office. Give it to the secretary. Whatever you do, don’t look in it, that’ll only complicate things. Understand?”

Blue swallowed back some tears and nodded. “I... I think I do, yeah.”

Cobalt turned to his daughters next. “Girls, I... Daddy has to go, okay? Go with your mommy alright? I’ll be right behind you. Okay?”

The eldest of the two, Rosebud, looked up at her father with tears in her eyes. “Daddy, I’m scared, please don’t go.”

“Don’t cry my little ponies, I-I won’t be long.” Cobalt said, choking back tears. He looked at his wife one last time. “Go. Now.” He said, an air of urgency and finality permeating his voice. Sugar Heart stood there for a moment, but her son tapped her on the shoulder, and she followed him off, casting confused, pleading glances at her husband every few seconds.

Cobalt refused to look around though. The only way to help them now was to have a clear head, and buy them time. His plan was really quite simple. Act as suspiciously as possible and get arrested. While they dragged him off to be interrogated and tortured his family would have time to get home safely. Though a prisoner transfer was possible, it was highly unlikely given the relationship between his bureau and the rest of the Equestrian government.

Cobalt crossed the crest of the valley and walked toward the griffin soldiers. “Uhm, excuse me? Gentlecolts? I’m afraid I’ve gotten lost, and I was wondering if you could help me?”

The griffins turned around and were momentarily shocked.

“Wha- what the, Pony! Freeze right there!”

Cobalt cocked his head to the side and played the wide-eyed innocent pastel horse. “Oh, have I done something wrong? I’m so, so sorry! I really just can’t figure out where I’m supposed to go from here, I’ll be on my way if you could give me a hoof!” He said, with as saccharine of a smile as he could manage.

One of the griffins leveled his rifle at the unicorn. “Stop moving or I shoot! Get your filthy hooves behind your head!”

Cobalt continued. “Oh, I’m ever so sorry, have I offended you? Of course I have, I didn't introduce myself! My name is Brazen Strider...”

“Stop talking!” Another griffin said as he closed on the pony.

“Oh, you want me to stop? Sorry, sometimes I really do talk too much. Not always though, some ponies are terse, and hey, I can be terse too! One time in high school I was laconic!”

“Shut up damn you, shut up!” The same griffin said, punching Cobalt in the chest.

The impact of the blow threw Cobalt back a few feet. He regained his balance and lowered his profile, anticipating another strike. “Now, come on guys, there’s no need for that kind of horseplay...”

One of the griffins shoved the barrel of his weapon right between Cobalt’s eyes. “One more pun. Give me a reason pony, one more pun is all I need.”

Cobalt said nothing. He knew where this was headed. He’d pissed them off enough that they wouldn't bother with any kind of due process, they’d drag him back to their base and figure out what to do with him there. He had been trained in resisting interrogation, but he knew he could only hold out so long.

Cobalt's staring match lasted longer than he would have liked, and at a much closer proximity. He tried to back off slowly, keeping the innocent smile going as long as possible. The lead griffin, with the rifle, growled at the unicorn.

“I want to know who you are. And I want to know what you’re doing in my forest.”

Cobalt went for his training, when the cover ID is questioned, you have to play it harder.

“Oh, why didn't you say so in the first place? I’m here on vacation, sightseeing!”

One of the griffin's rolled his eyes. “ I've heard enough. Let’s take him in, see what the LT wants to do with him.”

“Come on guys, there’s no need for that.” Cobalt said, trying to buy time. “All I want are some directions to-”

The griffin holding Cobalt at gunpoint made a move to strike Cobalt with the butt of his rifle, but the unicorn moved to the side quickly on reflex. The weapon swung by him, and the other two griffins moved in a bit closer. Cobalt’s griffin became visibly frustrated, and with a short roar swung the rifle at him again. Cobalt lifted his right forehoof and knocked the griffin’s paw aside. Surprised at the sudden burst of action from the pony, the griffin reeled back in surprise for only a second.

A second was all Cobalt needed. As the griffin regained his balance, Cobalt’s horn glowed and a blue field of magical energy appeared underneath the griffin. Suddenly the feathered beast found it much more difficult to stand properly, as the ground beneath his claws was inexplicably devoid of traction. The other two griffins rushed at Cobalt, the one on the left charged in, wings outstretched and paws raised in anger, completely forgetting the rifle slung around his shoulder. The other was more cautious, flapping his wings and hovering about two meters off the ground, aiming his weapon at the unicorn.

Cobalt had hoped that the griffins wouldn't fly, it gave them a tactical advantage which he couldn't counter. Any continued resistance was pointless, but he had certainly convinced the griffin patrol that he was more worth their time than whatever their mission was.

Even though he saw it coming, Cobalt took the punch. The griffin’s strike knocked him flat on his back, and when he looked up, the half-avian creature was standing over him with a brutal look of anger.

“You try something stupid like that again, and you’ll wish we’d put a bullet in you the second we-”

The conversation was cut off by the unmistakable roar of a firearm. Cobalt thought for a fraction of a second that the airborne griffin had misfired, or decided to cut out the middlemare and take a shot at him. But when death didn't come, Cobalt realized what had happened. The flying griffin was falling suddenly, the splatter of blood spraying onto a tree to his right.

The griffin which Cobalt had knocked down rushed over to his fallen comrade, a look of panic in his eyes. Cobalt’s captor turned his head towards the commotion and called out.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” He said angrily.

“Herman’s shot!” The other called back, his voice wavering.

“I can see that numb nuts! Where’d it come from?”

“I don’t-” Before the griffin could finish, the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He found himself on the ground, grappling with a shadow. Cobalt saw that the assailant was equine, possibly a good omen, but considering the agent’s luck so far, probably not.

The griffin keeping Cobalt pinned turned around entirely, about to rush over to help his friend. Cobalt saw a chance and took it. As the griffin had presented his back entirely to the unicorn, Cobalt propelled himself forward on his hind legs, tackling his captor. The agent wrapped his left foreleg around the griffin’s neck and squeezed with all his might. The griffin panicked, flailing his paws wildly trying to get a grip on Cobalt, but the longer he struggled, the weaker his resistance became, until he finally went limp.

Cobalt exhaled and let the unconscious beast go. The griffin slumped on the ground at Cobalt’s hooves, motionless. Cobalt then looked at the pony who had saved him. The stallion wore a green cloak and hood. From what Cobalt could see, his mane was a faded crimson, almost maroon, with a dark blue approaching navy colored coat. The pony shook his head, dropping his hood and showing Cobalt a stern face, with a deep scar cutting diagonally across his left cheek.

“Who are you?” The stallion asked in a deep, raspy voice.

Cobalt eyed him suspiciously, trying to determine where his firearm was, and if it had been reloaded since last fired.

“I was about to ask you the same question, it looks like I owe you one...”

The stallion raised an eyebrow. “You told them you were on vacation. I think that was a lie.”

“Oh? And why would you think that my new friend?” Cobalt asked, using the same innocent tone he had adopted a moment before.

“Because most ponies don’t take vacations alone in the Everfree forest. And if they do, they certainly don’t get lost and bungle around like an oxygen deprived bullfrog.”

Cobalt paused, pondering the simile. ‘Bullfrog’ was an unusual insult at best, but it also happened to be this months challenge. It was a long shot, but Cobalt decided to give the countersign.

“Hey, cut me some slack. In this fog, it’s basically impossible to see anything.”

It didn’t take a cryptology expert to point out that there was no fog.

Both stallions dropped their guard. The challenge had been given and accepted. They were among friends.

The cloaked stallion offered his hoof. “Wald Flash. Equestrian Frontier and Forest Rangers. Yourself?”

“Cobalt Crescent. Royal Inquiries Bureau.”

Wald looked impressed. “RIB? In my humble domain? What could be so important as to send you Con Mane types out to the forest?”

Cobalt was about to respond, but then remembered that just because his savior was a part of the intelligence community didn’t mean that he had the necessary clearance to know about his mission.

“Classified, all hush-hush. I appreciate your assistance though. Give me your superior’s name, I’ll put in a good word for you in my report and see that he gets a copy of the non-classified bits.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be making my own report. I’ve been out here for near a month tracking a surge in griffin patrols that started about six weeks ago.”

“Six weeks?” Cobalt said questioningly.

“Yeah, what of it?”

Cobalt groaned.“I started prep work for this op six weeks ago.”

“Hardly seems coincidental.”

“Yeah, I agree. How many more patrols are hanging around?”

“Ten I’ve tagged... nine now.”

“Buck!” Cobalt exclaimed. He had just sent his family quite literally through the lions den. There wasn’t time for self pity, he needed action. In less than a moment he formed a crude plan. “Ranger, I’m going to need your help again.”

“Not a problem.” The stallion said coolly.

“I’m transporting sensitive information out of the forest with... vital civilian assets. It is essential that those assets do not come to harm. I need you to help me locate and secure them.”

The ranger nodded. Tracking was basically half of the job. “And then?” He asked.

“We’ll need to get out of the woods intact.”

“I think I could help with that. You give me that sensitive information and I’ll see that it reaches the RIB. I have a kid dragon back at my station.”

Cobalt debated the proposal. On the one hoof, his superiors would have his head for handing off his intel to someone he had only just met. On the other hoof, they were idiots and he couldn’t care less. If the op really had been compromised, Cobalt’s family would be a lot safer not carrying around damning intel.

“Alright,” Cobalt said. “Let’s do it.”

The ranger nodded and opened the breech of his weapon to reload it. For the first time in this whole mess, Cobalt was beginning to think he might get out of it intact.

Author's Note

Royal Inquiries Bureau: A department of the Equestrian government tasked with intelligence gathering. They work closely with military and law enforcement agencies, and are roughly analogous to the Central Intelligence Agency in the United States.

Chapter Eleven: All In

“Captain Shining Armor, do you challenge the charges placed against you by your partner?”

“No, your Highness. Captain Venture’s accusations are all true. I turned myself in shortly after.” Shining said. The captain stood in the position of attention, dignified and honorable, as if on parade.

Celestia swallowed silently. Having received an order to depart, a relief column would undoubtedly be on their way to Drift Station by now, likely arriving mid morning. In the unlikely event that those soldiers could hold, the relief column may just save them, turning the most disastrous Equestrian military defeat in a hundred years into just another battle.

Just another battle wouldn’t capture the minds of the Equestrian nation. Just another casualty figure wouldn’t convince them of how corrupt their government had become. They needed a crushing defeat; a victory was contrary to her plans in the worst way.

There was also the matter of the young Captain. Shining Armor’s appointment as Captain of the Guard two years ago had been unwelcome by many of the aristocracy due to his youth. The only reason they had accepted him at all was because it meant that Captain Watchward would finally retire. If the nobility heard about Shining’s infraction (and doubtless they would, few secrets could thrive for long in halls of power such as these) they would demand some kind of disciplinary action. To fail to provide it would only make the House of Lords less amenable to her plans.

Celestia gave Captain Armor a stern stare. To punish one for a noble act was despicable, but the soldier had forced her hoof.

“Captain, you had the gall to presume to issue orders to an officer twice your senior in rank, and decades in seniority,” Celestia said. “As if this were not enough, when instructed of the inappropriateness of your actions, you proceeded not only to commit insubordination by refusing a direct order, but to commit fraud and to treason by impersonating me! I am a tolerant mare, but such flagrant disregard for law, and for your position, entrusted to you in the highest of confidence by the ponies of this nation, is unbecoming of a stallion of your stature. I recognize that you had good intentions, but your intentions pale in comparison to the seriousness of your actions.”

Shining Armor looked shocked, he hadn’t honestly expected Celestia would be this upset with him. He exchanged a brief glance with Iron Venture, who gave him a sympathetic look. General Thorn, however, tried his best to hide a satisfied expression. After a career of dealing with idiot nobles covering their own flanks rather than doing their duty, Shining Armor’s dedication to the lives of the soldiers at Drift Station was a breath of fresh air.

Celestia continued. “I trusted you, Shining Armor. There were those who believed that you had been promoted to Captain before you were ready, that your ascension through the ranks was unjustifiably swift. I chose not to believe them; I thought your heroism and honor would speak for themselves. I even offered you a title when I gave you permission to marry my niece. And this is how I am repaid?” She took a moment to look at the Captain. Shining Armor looked utterly crushed, his eyes wide with disbelief, like a frightened schoolcolt.

Celestia felt sick to her stomach. She really did trust Shining Armor, and precisely because he was willing to sacrifice of himself for the benefit of strangers. Just as Twilight Sparkle had been her faithful student, Shining Armor had been her faithful guardian. He had never faltered in the face of his enemies, the soldiers under his command (of any race) would have followed him to the gates of Tartarus and further. He had never compromised his integrity in the name of political gain. Those qualities had endeared him to the Princess, and upon hearing of his proposal to Mi Amore Cadenza, she had been ecstatic. But now those very qualities that made him such a fine soldier had made him a liability. And Celestia did not have the luxury of being able to tolerate liabilities.

She spoke once more. In the same tone she had used to chastise Twilight Sparkle at Shining’s wedding rehearsal.

“I am very disappointed in you, Shining. As of this moment you are on disciplinary probation. Until further notice I revoke your rank, and all associate privileges and responsibilities thereof. General Thorn, you may excuse yourself.”

On his way out, the General gave Shining Armor a nod of approval, which Shining returned.

“Captain Venture?” Celestia asked, motioning for him to follow her as she walked to a window. “Shining Armor, wait outside until a guard detail comes to collect you.” Shining saluted and departed as Venture came to a stop alongside Celestia.

Venture was about to speak out in Shining’s defense, having assumed this was why he had been called over, but Celestia spoke first.

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“He was... insistent.”

Celestia looked at Venture seriously. “How so?”

“The same way he always is. Permission to-”

“Just go ahead and speak freely! This isn’t the time to stand on ceremony!” The Princess snapped.

“Completely freely?” Venture asked cautiously.

“Why do you think I sent Shining and Thorn from the room?”

Venture collected himself. Celestia may put him in the stocks right along with his counterpart, but that didn’t worry him too much anymore. If Shining was going down, he wouldn’t go down alone.

“Due respect? He doesn’t bucking deserve what you just threw at him. He did the right thing in any reasonable soldier’s book. He saw troops that needed help, and he took action to make sure they got it. That’s his job. I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but if you think that defying a stupid order to throw away lives is worth a treason charge; then I have gravely misjudged you.”

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth Venture regretted them. Not only was it dangerous to question the decisions of the Princess, it was also incredibly presumptuous. Who the hay did Venture think he was to question the will of a being on a whole other level of understanding than him? What possible weight could his limited view hold with her, in comparison to the scope of her power?

To Venture’s surprise, however, the comment seemed to strike a chord with the Alicorn. She closed her eyes, looking incredibly hurt. Venture could have sworn she was about to cry when she choked out her reply.

“What you have said... is very true. The Captain has acted with nothing but the highest regard for his station.”

“Then why burn him for it?” Venture pleaded.

“I am under pressure from more forces than you can realize. Shining Armor’s actions put me in an incredibly difficult position. One which I fear I am unable to divulge to you.”

Venture shook his head. “So he bears your burdens? Falls on his sword at your command?”

Celestia wanted to deny him. She wanted to run outside and apologize to the Captain, repeal his charges and reward him for his actions. But she could not, at least not until she realized how deeply Shining’s interference had affected her plan. She replied the only way she could, her words only making the pit in her stomach sink lower.

“Such is the duty of a soldier.”

Venture swallowed and stood to attention. There really was nothing left to be said then. The Princess had made her decision.

“Permission to be dismissed your Highness?” He said curtly.

“Iron... this wasn’t what I intended.”

“Permission to be dismissed?” He repeated.

“I... granted.”

Iron Venture saluted, turned around and left the room, leaving Celestia with nothing to do but reflect. She retired to her bedchamber, and allowed herself the respite of crying in front of her mirror.

*****

Gale walked up to the barricades where his soldiers were awaiting the charge. Looking at them, seeing their despair, was almost too much for the young Lieutenant to handle. He wanted desperately to say something, anything to lift their spirits and transform them into the warriors he had seen yesterday, but no words came. The worst part was that the situation had not even changed since the day before, the scope of it had merely become evident. Dolce Di Mezzo was shaking with fear, Zephyr Whisk’s trademark smile was nowhere to be seen, and even the collected Penitent Shield looked to be feeling the strain.

Gale looked towards his enemies again. An echelon of several hundred approaching ahead of the main force. Their advance was slow, intimidating Gale and his troops to no end. Dwaal walked up beside Gale and spoke calmly. “I suppose I’ll die just as I always knew I would, just as I always lived.”

Gale turned to look at the Boerperd soldier. “I suppose you always pictured yourself dying with your kin though.”

Dwaal looked Gale straight in the eyes. “Meneer, after today, we’re as good as kin.”

Gale gave him a weak smile, which he returned. Looking back at the zebra echelon, Gale could see they were just outside of firing range. Again they began beating their hooves against the ground. They hooted and shouted, at first seeming quite random, but then one ran out ahead of the formation and yelled something. The zebra responded with a collective hoot.

Gale was fascinated by the action. Though it was hardly the rank and file precision of his own army, there was clearly a disciplined drill to it. The zebra began to chant, a low, powerful melody, with words that only Dwaal had a hope of understanding fully, but the purpose was very clear. Different sections began chanting different words and at different speeds, but the harmony made for, what Gale thought, was actually not half bad of a musical piece. The effect it had on the zebra was unquestionable, even from 700 meters their vigor was easily observed. They looked in high spirits, ready to spell the demise of their enemy. Even without guns and armor, they looked as effective as any army Gale could think of.

As the song continued, inspiration struck Gale. All his soldiers needed was a reminder of who they were, of what they fought for.

Gale trotted over to Dolce Di Mezzo.

“Private.”

“S-Sir,” Di Mezzo responded shakily.

“You’re the choir director yes?”

“I, yes sir.”

“Do you think Equestria can’t do any better than that?”

The colt looked at Gale, puzzled for a moment. But as the realization hit him, he calmed. Finding solace in one of the only areas of military skill he was really proficient in, Di Mezzo collected himself.

“Well, they’ve an excellent bass section sir, but I think we’ve got them beat for top tenors.”

“Then I think you know better than I how to respond to this particular maneuver.”

The corners of Di Mezzo’s mouth almost lifted into a smile as he responded.

“The anthem then, sir?”

Gale scoffed. “Circle of Friends is too short, too passive. We need something bigger.”

“I think I’ve just the thing sir.”

Gale nodded, passing the soldier his command whistle.

“This may be the most important performance of your life Private. Whatever happens after... make it count.”

The Private composed himself, levitating the whistle to his mouth. He stood up and played a quick, three note call. Some choir ponies turned their heads instinctively, and gave the Private a confused glance. Penitent Shield’s gaze darted back and forth between the Lieutenant and the Private, trying to determine what had transpired.

As soon as he knew he had the choir’s attention, Di Mezzo called out, not in the booming authoritative voice that Lieutenant Storm possessed, but in a softer, more businesslike tone.

“Number four,” Dolce said. Under his breath he counted out one measure, and then took in a breath and began to sing.

“Blessed bodies of the Heavens,

Sun and Moon of greatest light,”

A couple of other choir ponies near Di Mezzo caught on quickly, picking up on the piece they had rehearsed so well. As those near Dolce followed along, the rest of the choir began to join in while their fellow soldiers stood bewildered.

“Bathe us in your warm embraces

Shield us with your peerless might”

Gale saw that the soldiers around him were confused, to say the least. Most stood there slack jawed while the choir performed their piece. The entirety of the choir had chimed in by this point and it sounded beautiful, but it wouldn’t do. Gale didn’t need to entertain his soldiers, he needed to electrify them. Clearly that meant that every stallion on base had to be singing, making Di Mezzo’s choice, an almost universally known alternative to the National Anthem, all the more potent.

“Come on you lot!” Gale cried out as the choir finished the third line. “Sing! All of you!”

“Help us to stand firm as mountains,” Gale bellowed at them as they sang. “SING DAMN YOU!”

Doing right and shunning wrong”

Gale turned and faced Penitent Shield. Though their eyes only met for a moment, the look of determination in Gale’s eyes, and the animalistic will to survive that it conveyed struck a chord with the exhausted stallion. Though Penitent had never sung to anypony other than his shower head, he found himself joining in around ‘shunning wrong’.

“May we find our strength in friendship

Unite our herd as one group strong.”

Gale roared, his throat beginning to go hoarse from all the orders and shouting.

“COME ON ALL OF YOU! WITH HEART DAMMIT! I WANT THEM TO HEAR YOU BACK AT TEA TIME IN CANTERLOT!”

Penitent Shield and Zephyr Whisk were singing now, along with just about every Equestrian soldier in the station.

“Kindness save our herd from sorrow

Laughter lift us through the day!”

As more soldiers joined in, the singing became more emphatic, more emotional. It had gone from a lovely choir piece to a military attitude check. Brimming with more testosterone than talent. Which was precisely what Gale wanted.

“Honesty shall purge our anger

Generous we'll be in our ways”

As they sung of the revered Elements of Harmony, something began to change in the tired soldiers. Whether it was the religiosity of the piece, the patriotic fervor it inspired, or the simple fact that they all sang it as one. They all stood a little straighter, their faces a little harder, and their minds a little more fierce.

“Loyal to our roots remain us

Day by day the magic swells!”

At the mention of loyalty, often called ‘the soldiers element’, the cautious optimism that had begun seeping into the soldiers was multiplied. They felt again less like an army, and more like a brotherhood. Their loyalty to country, to Celestia, to each other, and to whatever else they each held dear flashed through their minds. Though a civilian would still see only a group of exhausted stallions with dirt on their faces butchering a beloved folk song, Gale saw a group of soldiers, reawakening a fortitude that minutes ago he had thought was all but spent.

“Love and tolerance shall lead us

O'er the seas and hills and dells.”

Here, Gale realized that he himself was not singing along with them. At ‘tolerance’ he rushed to the nearest sandbagged rampart. At a gallop he jumped up onto it, his forehooves resting at the top.

By the second line, he tore off his helmet and threw it to the side. Better just another stallion on the danger line than a self-important officer. A mild wind blew Gale’s mane in front of his eyes, prompting him to shake it to the side. Gale briefly thought he saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye, but elected to ignore it completely.

A pause came after ‘hills and dells’. The choir knew it, but the rest didn’t know it exactly, leading to a couple of, now zealous, soldiers, jumping the gun a little. Gale made a particular effort to be as loud as possible, preferably enough such that the soldiers could pick out his voice amongst all of theirs.

“In brotherhood we stand together

In sisterhood may we find grace!”

There was a definite change of mood. Penitent and his fellow soldiers were far from gung ho, but no longer were they contemplating their inevitable destruction. The looming terror disappeared, replaced only by the next two lines of the song, occupying all of their minds.

“The Sun and Moon shall ever guide our

Never ending pony race!”

As the next line came forth, Gale turned his head back to face his soldiers, a hoof raised to the sky. His throat burned from the constant bellows, but he knew the next two lines were crucial. Putting aside the fire in his lungs, Gale yelled louder than he ever had in his life. Every muscle burned as hot as the sun itself, the inside of his throat felt as if it were about to snap, but still he cried out, refusing to allow his voice to crack or falter in any way.

“WHY SHOULD WE FEAR THREATS OF DISCORD,

STANDING NOW ALL HERE AS ONE?”

Dwaal Klip watched with a sober satisfaction. He didn’t know a single word of the song, but to see the Equestrians take so much pride in it reassured him. Perhaps they would not survive the attack, but as far as the Boerperd was concerned, these soldiers were as worthy as he to lie dead upon his ancestral land.

“WE SHALL FIND OUR STRENGTH IN FRIENDSHIP

HERD UNITE AS OOOOOOONE.....”

Gale looked back to the zebra, their whole echelon was oncoming, egged on by the Equestrian counter to their chant. Gale scowled and thought of calling the command to fire, but realized that he had a little time, and more importantly;

The song wasn’t over.

“GROOOOOOUUUUP....”

Gale galloped back to his position along the redoubt, motioning for Verdant Dart and Dwaal Klip to follow him. The three ponies ran in a wedge and quickly got into position. They exchanged determined nods as the song came to its final word.

“STROOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG!”

The end of Dolce Di Mezzo’s performance was the cue for Gale’s to resume

“AT 300 YARDS! INDEPENDANT! FIRE AT WILL!”

Again the guns sounded forth, pouring fire into the rushing zebra ranks. The first two rows became an almost disorienting mess of white, black, and red, as hit zebra tumbled and were trampled under the hooves of their comrades, who maintained the advance regardless. Another set of shots poured out as the Equestrians found themselves reloading their weapons and choosing targets at an almost supernatural speed. Even Penitent’s cold, methodical process had disappeared, replaced only by instinct. His mind made no considerations, his hooves seemed almost guided by their own design, allowing a kind of fluidity and elegance to his motions that simply had never before been present in his fighting. This free flowing, instinctual action allowed him to get off five rounds, more than he would have thought possible at this range, before the zebra closed.

The first one leapt over the rampart, but only managed to meet Zephyr Whisk’s bayonet. Zephyr moved to the side and let the zebra roll onto the ground behind him. As another came over, Penitent struck him in the gut with his forehooves, also connecting with the bayonet, and forced the zebra back over the rampart into the onrushing crowd of its allies.

Though it appeared successful so far, Gale could see that holding the outer rampart was an untenable option that wouldn’t hold much longer. He nudged Verdant Dart in the side, and the NCO looked at his Lieutenant.

“It’s time! Pull them back!” Gale said briefly, the pain in his throat flaring up again at even the most minor use of his voice. Dart nodded and pulled up the bugle attached to his belt. The Warrant Officer put the instrument to his lips and blew as hard and fast as he could manage, doing his best to approximate the sound of the ‘retreat’.

Luckily there was minimal confusion from the soldiers on the ramparts, who pushed, shoved, stabbed, struck, and in some cases shot their enemies before rushing back to the redoubt as fast as they could manage.

Sweat poured down Gale’s face. If they failed to form in time, there was no way they would be able to get enough fire on the enemy to hold them back. It would turn into another mess of individual melees again, which would eventually, through numbers if nothing else, end in the Equestrians’ defeat.

As the defenders ran from the ramparts with the enemy hot on their tails, Gale played his trump card, Fourth Platoon. Since the soldiers were distributed in much the same way as they had been yesterday, Fourth was held in reserve behind the redoubt.

“REDOUBT VOLLEY!” Gale called. Fourth Platoon emerged from behind the redoubt and stood at its edge, their heads and weapons poking out over the top.

“FIRE!” The pain in Gale’s throat was almost more than he could stand. At Gale’s command, the platoon fired into the zebra pouring over the outer sandbags and pursuing the retreating defenders. Buying the Equestrian forces those much needed seconds to form into three ranks and load.

Gale opened his mouth, and a horror overtook him. The fire of battle within him turned to ice, and his mind was paralyzed with fear. He had lost his voice. Not a single sound came out when he tried to call his command. In an instant the young Lieutenant felt everything he had fought for come crashing down. He saw the widows, mothers, and children of 150 soldiers weeping at the horrific headlines, and the dismembered guts of his soldiers as they lay dead on a foreign field.

All because their CO had lost his damned voice.

Gale’s fears went on not even a second. Verdant Dart picked up on the look on his commander’s face, the failure to materialise an order, and stepped in, his own voice considerably less hoarse than that of the stunned Lieutenant.

“VOLLEY FIRE BY RANKS!”

Penitent saw a zebra less than ten meters away and braced himself. If this was to be the end, there wasn’t a snowflake’s chance in Tartarus that he was going down without the biggest fight of his life.

“FRONT RANK, FIRE!” Dart called out. At this Zephyr, Dolce, and the other soldiers in the front rank let loose their weapons, dropping untold zebra, and leaving Penitent to ready for his order.

“SECOND RANK, FIRE!”

Penitent fired almost without looking. The horde was so dense that a single round in any direction would take at least one, if not two to four because of the penetration effect.

“THIRD RANK! FIRE!”

Penitent reloaded his weapon as quickly as he could, pulling a round out of the pouch and into the breech in record time. By the time he had reloaded, the front rank had already fired again, and his order came.

Gale took a breath and fired his own cuff wherever he saw an opportunity. After three more sets of rank calls from Dart, he felt confident that he could chime in again, and the two began to alternate the calls.

Penitent saw that each volley only seemed to bring the zebra closer. They had gone from ten meters away to no more than two. The two commanders had compensated for this by trimming the command simply to ‘fire’. But even with the milliseconds this gave, it seemed to Penitent that it was just not enough. Though he was totally prepared to accept a charge with his bayonet, the memory of yesterday’s melees made him considerably anxious, fumbling his rounds slightly more with each volley.

Gale, however, saw a totally different picture. Though Verdant Dart assumed he had lost his voice again, Gale noted that the ranks of the zebra were thinning quite spectacularly. And after three calls by Verdant Dart on his own, Gale gave yet another order.

“CEASE FIRING!”

A couple more shots echoed out, but largely they were finished. The volume of smoke obscured each soldier’s vision terribly, but the wind dissipated it after only a few moments. When it was gone, there wasn’t a single live zebra anywhere near the station. Before them lay instead a field of bodies. From literally inches away from the soldiers hooves, a layer of zebra, and some pony, corpses lay strewn throughout the station.

The sight of all the bodies almost offset the relief at the repulse of the attack. There were easily hundreds. Each soldier was within ten feet of dozens. The mixed feeling they all felt was expressed in their reaction. There was no cheering, no more song, and no laughter. There was however a collective sigh of relief. Cleansing and rejuvenating though it felt, it served also to remind each and every soldier at the outpost just how exhausted they were, how much their muscles ached, and how close to death they had just come. Though not in perfect sync, of course, the collective exhale was close enough to be audible.

If any of the soldiers had been looking at their commander as opposed to the field, they would have seen him close his eyes and nearly faint. He felt it just as they all did, and though he felt sick for a moment at the carnage before him, that feeling was overshadowed by a thought they all shared.

They were alive. And it was over.

Author's Note

Song used is 'Equestrian National Anthem. Music by Sprocket Doggingsworth, Lyrics by Midnight-Cobra. Used with permission.
Link to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZISo1NFO7AQ
Link to Sprockets Youtube channel: http://www.youtube.com/user/sdoggingsworth?feature=watch
Link to Midnight-Cobra's DeviantArt: http://midnight-cobra.deviantart.com/
Thank you both very much for your permission, I can't think of a better piece to have put here.

Chapter Twelve: Aftermath

“Your best bet after that is to head back along the river here, it’ll take you to a path that ought to lead straight to Ponyville. It’s much too close to the border for the griffins to patrol it, we’d be on them in minutes.” Wald finished. “Anything else you’ll need?”

Cobalt sighed. “No, Ranger, nothing else. You’ve already done more than I should have asked.”

Wald smiled. “Don’t mention it. Princess and Country and all. Always happy to help out.”

Cobalt looked back to his family, who were eyeing Wald cautiously. “We’re in your debt Wald, every last one of us. I’m not sure how much of a future I have left at the Bureau, but if you ever need anything give me a call. I’ll see what I can do”

Wald smiled and nodded. “Safe trip back friend.”

“You too.”

With that, the two parted ways. Cobalt trotted over to his family and explained the route out of the forest to them. As they started along the path that Wald had described, Sugar Heart spoke in a hushed tone to her husband.

“Who’s your friend?” She asked weakly.

“Forest Ranger, he gave me the route out. Look, about what happened-”

She cut him off before he could finish. “Don’t ever scare us like that again. I mean it.”

Sugar looked at her husband with tears in her eyes. He gave her the warmest smile he could manage. And whispered into her ear:

“I’m so sorry about all of this. I’ll make it up to you if it takes the rest of my life.”

Sugar smiled. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make that work.”

Cobalt’s smile widened. She hadn’t forgiven him yet, and he was far from off the hook, but it was a start.

As the family headed back towards civilization, Cobalt looked back at his mysterious savior. The ranger stood there stoically with the documents Cobalt needed to send along. So much pain over some pictures and reports. Cobalt smiled at Wald and gave him a nod, which the ranger returned.

Cobalt didn’t know it, but he had just made his 'savior' very, very happy.

*****

Kami Sai’s relief column crossed the crest of the hill near Drift Station. The Knight Commander’s hopes for a rescue had been dashed minutes ago when they had seen a large number of zebra warriors moving away from the station. Kami’s priority now was the recovery of the bodies, and if possible, taking his column to avenge the deaths of Gale Storm and his soldiers.

As the station came into view, it at first seemed that Kami’s fears had been confirmed. Smoke rose from the station and several of the buildings appeared to have been destroyed. But as he drew closer, Kami’s eyes widened. Within the station, there were at least 100 Equestrian soldiers, at their front another soldier holding a clipboard, apparently taking roll.

Soon after, Kami caught sight of the field of zebra bodies. He noted with astonishment that at least a thousand head of the enemy had fallen before the soldiers in the outpost. As he looked to his staff and subordinates, he could see they shared his surprise. No one had honestly expected there to be anything left, let alone the numbers present within the compound now.

Kami approached the outpost with a look of utter shock on his face. At a break in the sandbag ramparts, he was met by a grey pegasus stallion, whose blue mane was just visible under his helmet. Though he was difficult for Kami to recognize, covered in blood and dirt, Kami could tell just from the look in his eyes that before him stood his Administration and Supply Officer, Knight Lieutentant Gale Storm.

The two stood facing each other for a moment, and Kami found himself unable to wipe the shocked expression from his face. Gale saluted, which his superior quickly returned. He felt as if he were staring at a ghost, or better yet, the grim reaper. The silence lasted a few seconds before the subordinate officer broke it.

“Knight Lieutenant Gale Storm reporting for Drift Station Garrison. Ninety one soldiers on parade, forty three sick or excused duty, nineteen missing, presumed dead. Officers and allied forces all accounted for.”

Kami could only stand there with his mouth open. That meant 135 of his 154 Equestrian troops were alive. To face off against a force so numerically superior and take such miniscule casualties was unheard of, unbelievable. It took Kami a moment to overcome his awe and observe the stallion in front of him. Storm was clearly weary, his voice sounded hoarse, and it seemed to be the last of the energy he had left to stand at attention before his superior. Kami managed the only reply he could possibly think of.

“I-I... relieve you, sir.”

Gale gave a small nod in thanks. “I stand relieved.”

With that, he saluted again and stepped to the side.

Kami looked at his Second in Command. “Take the parade from the Colour Sergeant. Dismiss these troops and give them leave to rest.

“Yes sir.” The 2iC responded, trotting off to carry out his orders.

“That goes for you as well, Leftenant.” Kami said, turning his eyes back to the exhausted officer.

“Go get some rest.”

Gale did as he was told. He walked into the Command Post, once inside, he leaned against a wall and exhaled. The Pegasus didn’t even have energy enough to think, dragging himself to his bunk in the Officers quarters. Gale collapsed into the bed, and consciousness abruptly left him the instant his head connected with his pillow.

*****

Shining Armor stood as stoically as he could as the door to his cell was closed. It was an ancient, damp place. The cell could have been taken out of any foals fantasy picture book. Old cobblestone walls, iron bars for a door, and a window too small to crawl out of, but just large enough to let some light in, reminding the prisoner what they had lost. The whole room was enchanted to silence magic, and Shining knew quite well that any attempt to escape in that fashion would be ultimately futile.

The guard with the keys, a fairly new young stallion by the name of Ardent Sentinel fumbled with them for a moment, as if contemplating whether to carry out his orders. He cast a look at Shining Armor, as if begging for instructions. All that Shining gave him was a single nod. The guard took the hint and locked the cell door.

Ardent looked at his Commanding Officer and tried to apologize. “Sir, I-”

Shining waved his hoof. “You’re doing your job. Just like we trained you. You’ve done nothing wrong. You understand me?”

“I... Yes sir.”

Shining walked over to the window and sat silently on his haunches. His mind was clouded with worry. Not for himself, but for his old friend Gale Storm. Being locked in this dungeon, not hearing news, and not able to find out on his own, that was a worse punishment than any judiciary measure.

*****

Several hours after Celestia had sent Shining Armor to the dungeon in chains, an aide came to her chambers. The Princess knew what the message to be delivered was before the pony had even entered the room. The battle was over, Drift Station had fallen. General Thorn wanted to see her to inform her of this, and give his recommendation for a reprisal, or possibly to tender his resignation. Celestia would deny the recommendation and turn over command of the military from the Security Council to the Ministry of Defence, to be ratified and made official in a special session of the House of Lords tomorrow.

Celestia had sent for Lord Lavaliere, the Minister of Information about five minutes before. He should be arriving just as the General did.

A moment of useless pleasantries came as both Celestia and Thorn ignored their titles and introductions. Celestia wasn’t even able to conjure up a false smile for all her self flagellating. Had she been able to look the General in the eyes, she would have noticed that neither the crestfallen expression of a defeated stallion nor the angry one of a vengeful soldier were on the General’s face. In fact, all that was in his eyes was excitement.

Minister Lavaliere walked into the room as well, just before General Thorn could speak.

“Am I interrupting something?” The minister asked cordially.

“Not at all,” Celestia said half heartedly. “Please, stay, I shall speak with you when I am finished with the General.”

Thorn spoke up. “Princess, I have excellent news regarding Drift Station!”

Celestia eyed the General, surprised. How could the news possibly be excellent? Was the General trying for a sarcastic quip? Would he point out how ‘excellent’ it was that 150 Equestrians were dead and the only stallion with the spine to try to prevent it was languishing in a dungeon?

Celestia took a moment to respond. “It was my understanding that the situation was critical. That the soldiers present at the station were doomed?”

Thorn beamed, and spoke with the excitement of a frenzied schoolcolt whose sports team had just won some kind of trophy. “That’s just it Your Highness! They held! The station held in position until relieved! The zebras were utterly beaten! Their Impi exhausted itself against the station and now they’re reeling from a task force we have out in the field! With only nineteen casualties, we broke the back of the Zebra Empire, some of my colleagues think this could lead to a peace settlement within three months!”

Celestia stood there, dumbfounded. How could this be? The Royal Equestrian Army were not an efficient fighting force by any means, outnumbered by such a margin, there should have been no way the enemy would have succumbed to them. She spoke very truthfully in her reply to the General. “I... I don’t know what to say,”

“It’s incredible!” Thorn said, believing himself to be in agreement with the Princess. “I’ll have to admit, when I heard, I was prepared for an absolute disaster. But the OC at the station, this Gale Storm, he held his troops together for eighteen bloody hours! Every combat arms officer in the country is going to be clamoring to find out how he did it this time next week!”

Celestia simply sat there looking shocked. Against all her expectations, despite all her best laid plans, there was not a crushing defeat at Drift Station. There was, instead, a victory. A victory that Thorn seemed to think unexpected enough to call ‘incredible’. There wasn’t even the slightest chance that this could be twisted into propaganda against the armed forces, and by extension the Equestrian government. Her plans had failed, her opportunity to influence change in Equestria gone.

Celestia thought for a moment. It certainly was, in some ways, a welcome defeat. Nineteen soldiers had fallen instead of 150, but their deaths were now, in the scheme of Celestia’s machinations, meaningless. Their deaths were not enough to spark the flame she required.

But they certainly were enough, it dawned upon the Princess, to influence the opinions of the Equestrian public. Perhaps not against the military, but against the foolhardy government that had failed to allot them proper resources? That had left them to die in the face of impossible odds? Such determination, such devotion to country in the face of those conditions was little short of inspiring. Celestia saw another plan take shape in her mind. This one would require more improvisation, more reaction, more dramatic flair. Change would come in Equestria, but it would not come from her. She could not be the beloved pacifist as she had hoped to, the hero of the day was a young Knight Lieutenant across the world from his home.

She smiled and spoke jovially. “General, this is auspicious news! I am delighted to hear that our military has achieved such success in the face of adversity! Knight Lieutenant Storm deserves the gratitude of the whole kingdom!”

If Celestia could not make bungling incompetents out of the military, she would simply have to make them into heroes.

The Alicorn turned to Minister Lavaliere. “Minister, the original purpose for this meeting is now irrelevant. I want the news that General Thorn has conveyed here to reach the ears of everypony in Equestria! I want newspapers recounting the battle, biographies on Storm, overviews of the war, opinion pieces on how this battle will affect its outcome! Newspapers, films, books even, everything your ministry can manage to produce or encourage. I want this to be the top story in Equestria. It is your duty to make Gale Storm and Drift Station household names, understood?”

Lavaliere smiled. “Absolutely your Highness. I shall see that the State paper has a special edition ready for print by tomorrow. Private and local government publications should follow suit quickly.”

“General Thorn,” The Princess continued. “I am placing you in charge of the removal of the Drift Station garrison from Transvaal. Call up whatever reserves you require to replace them. I want those troops repatriated as soon as possible.”

Thorn nodded. “At once Princess. I’ll have them home before Friday at the latest.” Thorn turned to leave the room, but Celestia spoke again.

“Oh, and General?”

“Yes your highness?” Thorn said, turning back to look at the Princess.

“Organize victory parades on his return, in whichever cities seem most correct to you. See to it that Storm receives the Celestial Sun for his actions, and review his reports to determine which of his soldiers are also worthy of awards for conspicuous gallantry. You may assume my approval.”

Thorn nodded again, still beaming. The Princess continued. “I want you to co-ordinate all of this with your new superior. As per our previous discussion, the Security Council will be disbanded, and replaced with the first Equestrian Ministry for Defence.”

Thorn frowned. “Ministry of Defence?”

“Yes. From now on, decisions made by the military high command will not need to be ratified by an oversized civilian committee. The military will be a department of the government like any other, and will not need to seek outside approval for the allocation of its portion of the budget, nor its day to day operations.”

Thorn was surprised. This wasn’t at all what he had expected of the ‘more modern alternative’ Celestia had mentioned. It sounded as if the REA was finally being given the chance to breathe. Obviously there was the potential here for disaster, but in his excitement over the recent victory, the General found it difficult to be anything other than optimistic.

“When will this Ministry come into existence?” He questioned.

“Tomorrow. As I mentioned, I will require you to co-ordinate with its Minister. I believe you two are already well acquainted. You should contact Defence Minister Regal Courser to begin your preparations at your earliest convenience.”

Thorn’s heart skipped a beat, and his eyes widened.

The disaster had exceeded its potential tenfold.

*****

At an inconspicuous hut in the Everfree Forest, Forest Ranger Wald Flash struggled with his bindings. His captor had been gone for nearly nine hours, and he was the closest he had ever been to managing an escape. He felt the knot tying the rope around his forehooves beginning to loosen, and with another hour of work, maybe enough to come undone.

The Ranger’s musings were interrupted by the return of the pegasus who had overpowered him earlier this week. The door to the hut opened, and the dark blue stallion trotted in, wearing Wald’s cloak, and carrying a file folder.

“Excellent news, my friend.” The intruder said nonchalantly, in an upbeat, cultured voice. “I have exactly what I came into the woods to find, and thanks to the challenge and countersign you provided me, I was able to retrieve it with a minimum of bloodshed.”

Wald spoke out in his usual deep rasp. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

The imposter laughed lightly. “Oh, I think I do. This information was given to me courtesy of the Royal Inquiries Bureau, the 'all seeing eye' of Her Majesty's government, and they were none the wiser.”

“Alright fine you crazy son of a bitch, you have what you want, now let me go!”

“Ah, my dear Wald, I’m afraid that isn’t how it works.”

The meaning of the imposter’s words dawned on the Forest Ranger, and suddenly he felt a lot less angry, and a lot more terrified.

“You, you can’t be serious,” Wald said nervously.

“I’m afraid I am. Please, don’t beg. I know you have a family, I know you will be missed. This is unavoidable.”

“They’ll look for me, when I don’t report in they’ll send someone! This’ll go better for you if I’m alive!”

“Please, stop.” The pegasus stallion looked his captive in the eyes. “I know it seems all so awful, but you have contributed to something so much greater than yourself. You have given me the first step to building a better world.”

“What are you talking about? You’re insane!”

“I am truly sorry that you won’t live to see it. But this I promise you, when the Empire is reborn, every pegasus, including your children, will live to see the dawn of the brightest day in the history of our race.”

Wald took a breath as the madman raised a forehoof, armed with a pistol cuff, to his face.

“This is a good death. There is no shame in it. You fought well when we met, you made every effort to do your duty. Take solace in that.”

Wald took a breath in, and just as he was about to speak, the weapon fired.

“Sterben Auch.”

The report echoed, and then, all was quiet in the Everfree Forest.

Author's Note

Ministry of Information: In charge of propaganda and public service announcements.