The Warlock

As much as I wanted to catch up on a specific part of history, I desperately needed to get a shower. The stripes on my blouse were practically peeling off. After enlisting the help of a passing maid, I made a quick detour to the nearest empty room, and cleansed myself in the bathroom.

Dressed in a new set of clothes, this time it was a simple shirt jeans combo. The soiled pants and blouse stuffed in the bottom of the bag for now, I made my way to the library.

The library was not a collection of random books like in Gilbert. Instead, this was an entire wing of a massive castle dedicated to nothing more than the collection of information. The shelves stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling, and stretched on for half a kilometer in either direction. The shelves were filled to the point of bursting with knowledge. Not a single shelf was empty. Weather it was a scroll or a tome, there was some form of written material everywhere I looked. Small tables were spaced in recesses in the shelves every ten feet or so. They could only seat one person, but were perfect for reading in peace. A grin formed on my face.

I never liked school, hated it to the point where I slept through most of my classes and just did the work at home, but I loved the process of learning. I would read anything I could get my hands on. I would never admit it, but I was a huge nerd when it came to learning new things, and was near genius level even back home. To put it in perspective, I had no idea what P-chem was at the time, but I had accidentally managed to teach myself thermodynamics from my dad's old textbook. I had read everything I could get my hands on, history books,  science texts, and even military service manuals. And after the non fiction, every fantasy, science fiction, mystery, and horror story in the house, and a fair amount at the public library. I started to see patterns in the books, where the story was no longer a surprise, or even fun really. The only thing I had no interest in was languages, though that was biting me in the ass right now.

But this. This was new. A whole new world of information, and of new stories. There were no patterns I was familiar with, no obvious pitfalls. This was brand new (for me anyway) territory.

“Bist du in Ordnung, Sir? Sie sind sabbern (Are you okay, sir? You're drooling.)." A voice called out.

Turning my head, I saw a short stallion, even by pony standards. He was mint green, and had a light brown mane. There was a quill and book stamped on his ass.

The interjection broke me from my trance. I blinked. Remembering what I came in here for, I asked, “Hey, whats up? I'm looking for a book."

“Es tut mir leid, Sir, ich spreche kein Gryphic (I am sorry, sir, I do not speak Gryphic.).“ The pony garbled. I had no idea what he said other than the word 'Gryphic'. I assume he is of no help.

I tried not to be offensive, but I think I failed at that. “Gryphic...“ I mouthed a few swear words, like I was having a silent conversation with nobody. “Buch!“ Remembering the German word for book, I pulled a random one off the shelf and opened it. Funny, this one was in Gryphic. Reading the title, I instantly slammed it back in its place. I did not want that kind of information today, thank you very much.

The pony scrunched up his face in disgust, and waved me to follow him. He lead me on for a few minutes to a group of bookshelves a dozen rows back. I think he asked if I needed anything else, but for all I knew, he was asking me if I wanted mustard on my sandwich. After getting no response, the stallion wandered off.

I navigated to the history section. The ponys did not use the Dewy Decimal system. In the history section, they organized by event. That made it much easier to find what I was looking for. I slid the large tome from its place, and read the cover.

“The Eighty-Three of Garg's Landing“ The book did not have a real author, only someone who referred to themselves as 'Sarge' as a pseudo-name.

Picking a table, I plunked myself down and got to reading. It was written as a story, instead of a autobiography, and it told the tale from the author's perspective. The story was of a young mare, just done with school, going off to the Shenth Isles, to the south east of Equestria. The Shenth Isles had the largest Griffon population percentages in Equestria, and was renowned world wide for having some of the most beautiful weather and most fertile seas known. They also had wonderful amusement parks and boardwalks, Garg's Landing was the capital city for the Shenth Isles, and was therefore the most popular tourist location. The mare had gone with a couple of friends to celebrate their new freedom form collage.

About twenty years before, the Equestrians had been at war with the Changelings. While the Equestrians were the undisputed masters of land and magical warfare, the Changelings ruled the seas and skies. The Changeling technology was far more advanced than that of the Equestria's, as they had no stigma against technological advancement. The massive air ships dropped heavy troops to distract the fighting force, while the amphibious vehicles dropped troops safely. The Equestrians and the Changelings had been at war for hundreds of years in a sort of on-again-off-again type war. There had been relative peace for twenty years, until the Changelings decided to attack rather suddenly.

And by suddenly, I mean they announced hostility by dropping bombs on the local hospitals and day cares.

The day had gone from peaceful and fun, to a total nightmare in a matter of seconds. Changelings dropping in from the sky, slashing at civilians at random, and shooting at anything not black and chitinous with magical energy bows, and slashing, smashing, and stabbing with the human's signature weapon, the multitool. It could take the shape of a sword, club, ax, and war hammer with a simple command.

The mare had been lucky enough to be in the local bath house when the attack started. She and her two friends had rushed to where the nearest guard directed her. Within moments, they found themselves in the convention center under heavy shield spells. Being one of the largest buildings in the city, once the room was packed, it could easily hold two hundred thousand ponies. And packed, it was! The mare hardly had room to breathe. Foals were crying, mares were shouting, and stallions were freaking out. The near riot continued until a massive bang silenced them.

Standing in front of them on a raised platform was the most terrifying Griffon she had ever laid eyes on. His face was heavily scarred, and was missing an eye. He had no tip to his beak, and was missing a front paw, only a wooden post strapped to his leg remained. He was bleeding from a new wound to the cheek, and was obliviously military. The Griffons had a much different social structure than the Equestrians. The males and females were in balance, instead of the massively skewed ratios in Equestria. So the males and females could both hold the same jobs, including being in the real military.

“I am Master Chief Sargent Rip-Talon of the Shenth Military! As of now, all able bodied mares and stallions are hereby conscripted into the Shenth Military in its defense. Please form an orderly line, so we can process you in a quick and efficient manner!“ The called out to the crowd of now protesting ponies and Griffons. Another concussion spell silenced them. “Unless you want to die by the hooves of the Changelings, I would recommend complying!“

There was less protesting, but only a few stormed out of the room. Now, the mare was smart. She realized that in order to even have a chance to survive this, she would need to stick with the group. And if the group was the Shenth Military, then so be it.

They only had a few hours to train, but she learned more about combat in those few hours than the years of her mother describing her time in the 325th Lunar Regiment. She learned to use a fairly primitive version of a hand grenade, a simple no-grip sword, as she was a unicorn, and a lever assisted crossbow, where cocking the lever racked the sting and loaded another bolt from the internal magazine.

She was fairly proficient with the crossbow, and was assigned to the front lines. She was sure that she was going to die. When they marched (jogged in a shapeless lump) to the brand new trenches and foxholes, courtesy of the now empty loads of bombs from the airships, they were faced with a veritable army.While they had at least two hundred thousand ponies in the defense force, the Changelings were at least double that.

The Sargent gave the order to fire, but almost none of the ponies could bring themselves to pull the trigger. They froze. The only one to fire was one of the mare's friends, a pegasus mare. Her bolt flew true and impaled a Heavy Changeling in one of it's eyes. She would fire three times more, and kill two more Heavies, and wound a low ranking Officer (from the red and purple stripes painted on their chitin.), before the rest of the front line would start firing.

The mare was sickened at first, the thought of killing something repulsed her. But that quickly changed when her other friend fell to a Changeling sniper, the energy arrow exploding in her chest, and covering the mare with the remains of her friend. After the shock of seeing her friend explode in front of her, the mare levitated her fallen friend's crossbow and extra bolts, sword , and sack of grenades to her.

Now covered by a rage and hate induced shield, the mare charged the horde of shape shifting bugs. The mare quickly became a whirlwind of death. Bolts flying out from the one-way shield, and killing almost everything she hit. The swords flew in a circle at head height, decapitating rows of Changelings. She ran out of grenades frustratingly fast, as they were pretty effective. Every few minutes, she would run back to the trenches and loot a fallen comrade for more bolts and grenades. On the first day, the mare had killed hundreds of Changelings and a dozen Changeling Officers. After being reprimanded for the 'fucking stupid stunt!', she was given a field promotion to Sargent.

The first day was a net victory for Garg's Landing, as the ponies killed ten for every one of them killed. The second day was a bit of a Pyrrhic victory, as it was a two to one ratio. The third was a resounding defeat, as they lost over a hundred thousand when the Changelings returned with more bombs. After the third day, they were forced underground.

For the next three months, the mare and the few thousand remaining ponies lived in the sewers. After the first month, they ran out of food. I was quite sickened when she included recipes in the back for 'Kerosene Roasted Changeling'. After the second month, they were down to only two hundred. The children were the first to go, as they were most susceptible to infections and sickness. The elderly were next, much for the same reason. The third month, there were less than a hundred survivors. Of a city of one and a half million, there were only eighty-three non-Changelings alive. The mare and her other friend were leading the group of survivors for months after Rip-Talon committed suicide after he lost his legs to infection. While technically the General of Garg's Landing, she refused to go by anything other than 'Sarge'.

They were on a last ditch effort to find some food. The Changelings stopped going out in groups of less than ten, after mostly eaten remains were found washed up on shore. They were pinned by the remaining Changeling forces in the remains of the downtown area. Expecting to make a final stand, Sarge gave a final speech, and screamed an incredibly vulgar insult and threw herself out of cover, sword in magical field.

What she did not expect to see was a battalion of Equestria's finest standing over the corpses of a thousand Heavy Changelings. They had been saved.

It was confirmed that they were the only survivors from Garg's Landing. Over a two and a half million lives had been lost. Both Equestrian and Changeling.

The survivors were declared national heroes, though most of them remain anonymous. Sarge and her friend included. They were each given a sword of Lunar Steel in commemoration. Each was worth more than most nobles made in a dozen lifetimes. Some wielded the midnight black blade with pride, while others hid it with a sense of shame. Only eighteen were publicly known, and had a permanent residence in the Canterlot Barracks. While these eighteen were national heroes, not a single pony was as revered as Sarge. She was the true hero of Garg's Landing. She alone was the reason they were still alive on multiple occasions. Sarge had asked to remain anonymous to the world, and it was not even known what color coat she had. Her friend chose the same route, and went into a life of seclusion.

I set the book down, the information weighing heavily on me. That something so horrible could happen, and to such a peaceful country. I had been both fortunate and unfortunate in that I had met the eighteen mares from the book, and that I did something to get them to nearly kill me. I replaced the book, picked up my things, and left to find the princesses. I needed a real place to stay. And I needed to figure out a way to properly apologize to the mares.

When I left the library, the hallway was dark. Looking to the windows, I saw the crystal clear night skies. How long had I been in the library? That was not important. What was important was finding the princesses.

O0o0O

In a dark room, there laid a mare and a stallion. The stallion was fast asleep. He had been tired out from his daily routine. The mare, however, was not tired in the least. She was wide awake. She had the oddest feeling that she was being watched. With a sigh, she hauled herself from the bed, and walked over to the vanity table in the corner of the room.

She plonked herself down on the small cushion. With a tap of her horn, the mirror rippled like a disturbed pool. Her horn glowed, and from within the mirror emerged a piece of steel. Not normal steel, but Lunar Steel. Harvested from the dark side of the moon, and forged by the Chief herself, this was her prized possession. It was a meter long, and had two points, and was sharpened along the entire length on both sides.

The stallion had no clue. He was completely unaware of her past, and she intended to keep it that way. Pulling a whetstone from the mirror, she set about mindlessly sharpening the already ultra thin sword. It was a habit from her time in combat. It helped relax her when she was nervous. After a few minutes, she plucked a hair from her mane and let it fall on to the blade's edge. With a nod, she replaced it in the mirror, and vitrified the rippling glass.

She glanced lovingly towards the stallion sleeping soundly in the bed. 'I wouldn't want him to fall in love with 'Sarge', now would I.'