In Bello Praesidium

by Jean De Basse - Woolie

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Griffons, Twilight Sparkle, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Sad, Princess Luna, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other
Length: 45211

A centuries old summoning ritual forcefully brings a corps of cadets into Equestria. Crisis looms overhead, the arrival of the corps might be the spark to set off the powder keg set by a revolutionary and his followers.

In Pace Decus, In Bello Praesidium...In Peace a Glorious Asset, In War a Tower of Strength.

The Stonebridge Military Institute: a fortress of strict regimen, training, and education. Each of its cadets relying on each other to handle the rigors of its system: to survive their first year of brutal hazing, to endure the grueling training of their second and third years, and to embrace their roles as leaders as they take on their fourth and final year.

But something has changed, the corps has been torn away from their land and forced into another. An ancient Saddle Arabian spell-book, the Picatrix, has been stolen by a revolutionary stallion and his band of loyal mercenaries to activate an ancient summoning spell in hopes of gaining a tribe of mythical 'human thralls' to their army. Despite the efforts of a lone griffon-knight in her attempt to stop them, they've succeeded.

It was an old spell though, and the humans that it was bound to have long since passed. Living near the former home of the tribe the new inhabitants are called forth to arms in their place as the: The SBMI Cadets.

((Point of Divergence for AU is end of Season 3))
((Rated Teen for violence and language; republished after substantial editing))
(I'm looking for editors, I could really use the help! Any advice would be welcome too!)
(Credit to Lola Ditz for the coverart 'Aftermath')

Published 2017-03-02 17:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-27 18:00:09 UTC

Chapter One: Field of Lost Cadets

“My grandfather, my zaydee, used to always tell me that 'Heaven and Hell can both be had in this world.' At the time I didn't think too much of it, just another proverb he picked up from his homeland. As the first days on Equus went on, and as the weeks turn into months, I found myself thinking a lot about him. A lot about those old proverbs.

Equus was no different from Earth, I found my hell and eventually my heaven. I beat my rifle into a plowshare and bent my bayonet into a sickle, and I no longer take up arms against any nation. What my grandfather forgot to tell me, or chose to spare me, is that one cannot escape his past. In our peace, there will always be conflict. We still carry our hell with us: every sin, every pain, and every loss regardless of the heaven we find.

Carrying our hell with us was not as bad as the trip to it, and we all walked a long road to it across Equus. This book and this story are dedicated to those who walked alongside me.”

-Preface from John Cantwell's "The Grey Tide"

CHAPTER ONE: FIELD OF LOST CADETS

It was rather cold, Cantwell thought. He would admit that the early days of March seemed to carry winter's last few bitter swings. But beneath the thick wool of his uniform, its heavy overcoat, tight cloth straps, and what felt like layers of superfluous dressing, ‘cold’ was always forced to be ‘broiling.'

John Cantwell was no mind reader either, but his Corporal, Marshall, seemed inclined to agree with him. He stared slack-jawed past Cantwell caught in a daze, shivering as the wind bit at him. Cantwell could only muster a short nod at the other cadet as the world around them seemed unreal. It was cold, snowing, and the wind tugged at the top of his cover. The tips of Cantwell's ears stung as the wind whipped at him, a gust knocking Marshall’s cover down into the powder at their feet. Cantwell reached down into the snow instinctively to hand Marshall his cover. The Corporal took the hat in an equally mechanical fashion, brushing off a bit of snow from its top to keep the wool from staining. Cantwell caught himself wondering 'why', the cover would still get wet regardless. They were standing in a snow storm.

Except it hadn't been snowing when the parade had stepped off. It hadn’t snowed at all this year, even during the corps' winter furlough. It had been clear, sunny skies over Virginia a few seconds ago.

Marshall seemed to be more focused on the landscape around them, his friend staring at the mountains with a horrified expression as his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Cantwell always felt that the Appalachian mountains seemed to loom over them at Strongbridge. They created inhumane hills and trails that made physical training all the more ‘fun.' However, they were never quite so jagged nor so imposing.

And of course, not covered with snow.

There had been no flash, no explosion, and no noise. No signs of any change as the call to parade sounded with the cry of bagpipes and trumpets. One second they were standing on the parade field at the Institute, and in a blink of an eye they were standing...standing...

Here.

Both cadets stood there for a few minutes, their heads on a swivel as they scanned around. Their platoon shifted with them as if waking from a bad dream. Cantwell nearly jumped out of his shoes as Langhorne dropped her M-14 with a short cry. Someone had loaded a magazine into her weapon. His mind flew in fear at the punishment she could receive for having a loaded weapon, his heart skipping a beat as he realized his own rifle was loaded as well. The sound of Byrd leaning over to vomit broke Cantwell away from his growing panic. Byrd stood hunched over as he stared cock-eyed at his puke melting the snow, the discoloration from a night of discount daiquiris from the bar in town was to be expected, but the snow itself seemed to entrance him more than the rainbow shades of vomit.

The cadets around him began to murmur as the world around them became more vivid and foreign. Cantwell found a voice joining them as he nearly dropped his own rifle as a new wave of shock seized him, "Oy v-...shit...Marshall...is this real?"

Turning his head to offer Marshall a pleading look, he wanted to hear his friend tell him otherwise. He wanted to hear that his imagination was just playing tricks on him, that he'd just been daydreaming again and hadn't noticed the start of the snow. A short series of stammers were all Marshall offered as his usual composure drained away in an instant. His friend tugged at his round glasses, wiping them off with his glove as his voice cracked,

"I-I-I...t-th-"

“It's as real. Marshall, make sure Cantwell doesn't pass out or anything like that and keep your guys in check,” cut in Captain DuPont as he moved behind the two. The cadet officer adjusted the red sash holding his saber around his waist tighter as he offered Marshall a pat on his shoulder, DuPont shifted away from them and began to move to other cadets in the platoon. He snapped his fingers a bit at Marshall as he left, "Get to it."

Marshall slowly came to, his hand rising to shake Cantwell at his shoulder, "Y-yeah...yeah it's real, DuPont is gonna figure it out...get the word back here what's happening...we're good."

Marshall kept his grip tight like a vice and Cantwell couldn't quite lose the feeling it was more for the Corporal himself than him.

They had stood in silence for a long time before Marshall shifted back, falling out of the formation as he heaved violently. The anxiety and stress choking his speech spilling out from him onto the snow. Turning his head to avoid watching the display, Cantwell stepped behind him to offer an awkward pat on his back, "I'll...make sure everyone else is kosher too..."

The Corporal offered him a weak thumbs up as Cantwell hustled back towards their platoon. Letting his mind wander as his shock shifted to annoyance, and then to anger before a weight fell in his stomach. His bubbe had always told him, when she wasn't complaining about goyim, to always trust one eye over two ears.

Despite what he heard around him, Cantwell slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped out of his platoon.

Sticking his fingers into his ears, and shutting one eye close he looked around slowly. Shutting out the worried whispers and howling wind that surrounded him he waited. Perhaps the proverb had a deeper meaning, but he didn't care. He just wanted to know for himself.

The weight hung in his stomach and kept him upright as he stood there, just staring. Something might happen and they'd be back home. Maybe he'd see something the others didn't, maybe he could use some old Yiddish magic that no one knew. Anything to just make this whole mess disappear.

So he prayed,

And hoped,

And pleaded,

The cold wind of the mountain was his only reply as it shoved him back towards his platoon.

DuPont carried himself through the snow as best he could, passing alongside the other companies as everyone seemed intent to snap back to their reality at around the same time. The companies he passed raised hurried cries in shock as the regiment of cadets found themselves hurling questions at their company staff. They were all standing atop a snow-covered ridge far from their home, how would other cadets wearing the rank of 'Sergeant' or 'Corporal' know any better than them? He knew the reason though. They were scared like him. Terrified even, and he wasn't exactly doing any better than them. He was just taking his fears up the chain of command by trying to find the Regimental CO.

As he approached the front of the columns to where the Regimental Staff stood, a few other commanders had the same idea as they were all caught in the chaotic back and forth. The color guard just behind them, to their credit, remained silent as statues. Their expressions were rather pained in their effort to hold up the Stars and Stripes up against the hostile wind as it seemed intent to try ripping away their responsibility, and perhaps their composure.

It had been clear skies and an easy parade on green fields back at the Institute just a few minutes ago, then...

DuPont paused in his step, a few meters away from the other commanders he scratched at his nose. His hand let him muffle his voice as he mumbled to himself, "Then 'poof'..."

Turning around he looked over his shoulder, examining the ranks of Alpha company standing behind him. He locked eyes on a female cadet whispering quietly to herself, the woman sat in the snow with a blank look plastered on her features as she chanted some mantra. The other cadets around her were lost in their own worlds, unable or unwilling to lend a hand to her as shock stilled them. The way she cradled her rifle in a near fetal position made her appear like a scared kid playing soldier as if she was going trick or treating and got lost along the way.

Staring at the woman for a few moments DuPont nodded his head and shuffled past her towards the front of the formation, they were all dressed up to 'play' soldier and they were all lost 'along the way' at this point. Moving up behind the other members of the staff he caught them all falling quiet as the Regimental Executive Officer, Miss Jackson, barked out in a hoarse voice;

"Shut up!"

Sliding in-between a few of the other officers, DuPont settled in to listen as the bickering among the cadets come to a fast close. The RXO's wrath not worth testing as she stared daggers at all of them for a few moments before nodding towards the Regimental Commander, Henry King. The man was a giant, even by DuPont's bulky standards. He was the oldest cadet in the corps, prior service with two tours with the National Guard in Afghanistan after his first year at the Institute. He got to come back and continue his football scholarship but had to stop after a year as he aged out. King's linebacker build only added to a fierce scowl keeping them silent he seemed to be in deep thought, "Thank you Miss Jackson...I-I've got no idea what's going on...this...this is crazy...but we're all breathing at least, just some faster than others right now."

"The priority is to take accountability for your companies...make sure everyone is still kicking before we should move," raising his hand to quiet any questions, King shook his head; "Before you say it, I know we're lost, and I know we're supposed to wait for rescue if we get lost. But this isn't a normal situation boys. Mister Brown, your Bravo's finest but you've checked your phone twice while I've been talking, nuts to you for that. I'm guessing we aren't getting any service though?"

A nervous chuckle escaped the group of commanders, DuPont twisted his head to see Bravo Company's CO hold up his phone to show the others. "Not a bar...Google Maps still has our last known location back at the Institute," rumbled out Brown before he tucked his phone back into his cover.

Pointing at the rest of the corps with his hand, King continued; "Then we have got to move...maybe we can get somewhere with service and find out what's going on! We also got to get twelve-hundred of our brothers into some kind of shelter before it gets dark. No way our woolies and low-quarters are gonna last in this kinda cold. Goldsmith, I want you to take Echo company and start searching from the back of the formation. See if you can find anything behind us. Brown, you just volunteered Bravo to take the front. Both of you fan out, but keep track of your guys, I don't want to lose anyone."

"DuPont?" rumbled out King as he searched the crowd for the Captain, who was quick to raise his hand. Shuffling forward a bit to greet him, DuPont craned his head up to the taller man.

"I'm here...what've you got for me?"

Smirking a bit, King rubbed his wristwatch, "You're a bit late aren't you...I think I might be seeing things, but correct me if I'm wrong. Does it look like Alpha is carrying loaded rifles behind us?"

"Not just Alpha, whatever grace of god brought us up here seemed fit to arm us all for bear. I'll get Delta moving up and down the columns to get an ammo count and to make sure no one decides to start shooting at shadows if that's acceptable?" asked DuPont as he rested his hand on his saber, "I'll also get a platoon up here to act as runners...figure you might need them."

"Good man!" King said as he wore a more relaxed expression.

DuPont smirked a bit as he stepped back. Delta would get it done. He'd be sure of that. They had a plan now, just being in motion might calm everyone down a bit. King's command brought him back from his thoughts as the large cadet bellowed out his next order, "Echo, Bravo, Delta: you've got an hour to get your jobs done then send a report back to me! Rest of you, calm your companies down...make sure no one shoots themselves...and tell them we're gonna move out soon."

The group nodded and drifted away, DuPont joining a small group of officers heading his way as they trailed back through the snow to their companies. DuPont stopped in his step once again as he passed Alpha, his head turning to see if the woman was still sitting. He could pass on the word of the meeting to her, calm her down some before he got back to his guys. As he approached though he heard her mumbling a soft chant,

“This isn’t right…this isn’t right…this isn’t right…”

DuPont, for all of King's efforts, their plan, and whatever bravado he had found fell away as he silently agreed with her.

Aloisia Asumahn, daughter of Prince Ludwig Alger; Knight-Commander of the Black-Vogels was quite sure of one thing, “This wasn't how it was supposed to go...”

Her voice chided the empty cell around her; arms bound above her in a way that prevented her talons from any chance at freedom. Her wings had been placed in crude shackles, the tight squeeze around her coverts made her quite sure of another thing; the bindings were made for ponies rather than a full-sized griffon. The Saddle Arabian had been expecting the flamboyantly adorned royal guards of the Alicorn sisters; even when he had shed griffon blood and made refuge in her people’s land.

She wasn’t sure if she should be mad at him for not expecting a retaliation from the Vogels or for not realizing he had a plan for it. The former was less self-deprecating; the mission’s failure taken from her shoulders for a few seconds before the latter forced the truth back on them. She’d rushed in alone, not expecting the stallion to be alert and ready. Underestimating his band of cheap mercenaries guarding a decrepit outpost in the Southern Alps was yet another mistake. And perhaps the greatest failure she endured was letting them take her in alive as if she were some prize.

Aloisia growled past her beak as she shook the dirty-grey feathers of her head; the black tips of which flopped over her face as she tilted her head down. Her carelessness had allowed that madpony to summon his demonic force; she'd only arrived to stop him after he had finished his incantations. Even in her haste, she had been too late. She had broken the summoning circle, but it did not matter, she had seen the sky flash as if were ablaze before the damned pony knocked her out.

Frowning a bit as she hung from the ceiling Aloisia chuckled in a low, dry tone. It was all rather cliché, a wizard capturing the hero in the middle of their evil plot. Or perhaps she was the damsel, awaiting rescue by some noble knight. It was a fate that almost seemed worse than dying in the cell itself to her. And then clichés seemed content to compound: in her brooding, she realized the wizard’s mistake as she scratched the back of her calf with the pad of her foot. Every villain seemed to make it when holding the hero captive, he didn’t bind everything.

Grunting as she flexed her arms, she bent her core as she swung her legs up to the ceiling until she hung like a bat with the chains. The cell was old; and it was designed to hold a pegasus, a pony that spent all day pushing clouds and flying in calm winds. With a grunt, she pulled with her weight attempting to pry the chain’s bolts from the roof. It wasn’t designed to hold a griffon, she battled tempests and swung iron with abandon. The binding almost gave way as a bolt popped off it with a short crack: it wasn’t designed to hold her, it wouldn’t hold a Black-Vogel. Nothing, especially not a pony, would keep her in chains! Finally, the chain snapped from the roof, and she came tumbling to the ground with an audible thud.

Brushing herself off, Aloisia Asumahn, Knight-Commander of the Black Vogels stood tall. She could work with this, her hands were still bound and wings disabled, but she was standing. She fancied herself a good match if any suitor ever had the gaul to catch her eye, but she was no 'damsel in distress.' She would admit though, playing the role could be to her advantage. At least for a few painful, embarrassing, regrettable moments. Letting out a low whistle, she poked her beak out past the bars and put on the best ‘whiny’ voice she could muster; “Help…someone please; I’m huuurrrtttt…”

The haggard features of a tired minotaur squeezed down the narrow passage of the hallway; the bull’s horns scraping the ceiling as he twisted his head to glare daggers at the griffon. The towering figure jabbed a stubby finger at the griffon; “Knock it off meat! You come here, cleave through ten of my mates before the boss takes you down. Then you break part of your bindings…you weren’t exactly quiet you know...have the sack to lie and beg for help? Ruins the legend of your King's great Black-Vogels by degrading them...”

The mercenary tapped his finger atop her beak as he finished with a bellowing laugh, a decision that he came to regret as she bit through the fat digit as if it were a carrot.

“Well, you aren’t even worth stomaching you overweight cow!” Goaded Aloisia as she spat the severed digit at his feet and pressed her back on the edge of her cell. The minotaur stretched his arms through the bar as he snatched madly at her,

“You little featherbrain! I’m going to give your decapitated head to the goats to-AUAAGHHH!”

Aloisia leapt forward, swinging her chains around his powerful arms before tearing them violently to the side. She felt the warrior strain against her efforts, trying to overpower her as his cries intensified. She had the leverage though and a final tug elicited a sharp crack that bent the bull's arms at an ugly angle. Crying in agony, the minotaur slid down to his knees in tears. He could only curse in vain at the griffon as Aloisia wore a flat expression before she quickly reached through the bars to yank a pair of keys dangling from his belt.

Swinging the door open she dove out into the hall; standing tall as she lunged over to take his blade from its sheath. The minotaur began to wriggle helplessly on the cell's bars, gasping out in pain as his mangled arms crippled any effort of escape. Scampering behind him; Aloisia held his sword up for a quick inspection. It was a rather crude device; an antique from Zebra lands with a long curved edge and a rounded point. Sharp too, good for hacking and slashing. Checking the blade's edge in a shallow slash across the bull's arm, she flicked the weapon around in her hand and hacked madly at the minotaur’s skull. Letting out a repressed scream as she cursed a week's worth of frustration out as she hammered away.

Ending her tantrum at the top of the remains of the bull's head, she let out a deep breath as her world slowed down. Her heart beat heavy as a bass drum, adrenaline still holding it in a vice as she shook slightly. She unlocked her chains once her hands stopped shaking before setting off to stalk down the narrow hallway on her hind-legs. She squeezed her palm around the handle of the short sword as she felt her composure returning; "One step at a time...one foot after the other."

Author's Note

(A rough draft chapter I've been sitting on for a while; if it gets any feedback; positive or negative, I'll be sure to keep it going!)

((Credit for some Edit: Shadowghostalex))

Chapter Two: Ut Prosim

"I promise you, it's an almost universal agreement among us...the most jarring thing aside from the obvious magic, mythical beasts, and the general lunacy Equus seemed to contain would have to be the names of places. Those really hit home. It's a really arbitrary thing but, having to maintain your bearing as you're ordered to march to somewhere called 'Ponyville' is an utterly ridiculous request and was impossible to suppress any humor in it.

It's a human bias, yes, but places like Manehatten...Stalliongrad...and Saddle Arabia? It took a few good months before any of us were able to suppress at the very least a smile during briefings. Horse puns on places back home? It was laughable! Still, we stopped laughing once we got there and got down to business. You don't see anyone making jokes about Stalliongrad these days do you? And of course, when it comes to naming, it's not like we were any better.

The first thing we did when we captured that fort back in the day?

Someone decided to name it 'New Stonebridge,' and it stuck.

For a species that relied on creativity to survive its evolution and our time here, we're really not gifted when it comes to naming things. Perhaps the reasoning behind it has just been lost to us, but that's history for you."

-Interview of Commander Elizabeth Jackson from Twilight Sparkle's "Anthropology: A New Study."

CHAPTER TWO: UT PROSIM

Victory felt hollow.

Strange that the books always described it as hallowed instead; this was meant to be a moment of triumph for Sardonyx.

The Saddle Arabian unicorn found himself rather puzzled. Hobbling his lithe form around his spartan quarters before he leaned a bandaged stump against a crude crutch to halt. Levitating the Picatrix to his eyes as he poured himself into its pages for what seemed to be the hundredth time since he’d liberated it from the Sultan's vaults, his focus on the notes distracting him from the phantom pain of his leg.

He’d followed the spell’s specifications to the letter, or what he translated the letter to be. Heronglyphs were rather difficult to manage, but he’d spent years studying them alongside the bulls of Mooracco! He knew them perhaps better than the ancient Herons themselves! Even with each detail followed it had ended in failure! He had acquired each ingredient for the casting: roots taken from chaotic Everfree, holy water taken from the shrine of the gods in Saddilina, and the sacrifice of his own hoof! He had seen the display that followed as he completed the summoning circle! Never had he seen such light, as if the sun had been torn open across the night sky. It was a cascading flare that still seemed to cause him to squint even a day after. That damned griffon though...

The tribe, those ‘humans’ were going to be his way to deliver true freedom. Knowledge had given him great plenty, and his family’s wealth took him as far as it could to claim a high position in the Sultan's court, but it was all hollow. He had no control: the keys to the grand palace were still held by someone else, somepony weak and corrupted. He couldn't stand to grovel at the 'great' ruler's hooves so that the Sultan might hold onto what meager power he had as so many lived in vast squalor in the cramped cities and desert wasteland.

Sardonyx grunted softly as he hung his head low, shutting the ancient book as he floated it back to his desk. For all his effort, for all his work, and at the cost of his limb; he was left empty-hooved. Pausing for a moment, the stallion laughed dryly; “Perhaps this is the price I pay for my pride, no?”

The knowledge of the Picatrix was not so easily acquired, and after last night's failure, he felt the spirits of those he damned digging daggers into his back. He had betrayed the sanctity of Saddilina’s holy site to take the water, he had raided an herbalists home in the Everfree to acquire the roots, and it had taken several captives from the surrounding griffon townships before he realized an error in his translation. It had to be his blood and not just anyponys.

“It’d be a fitting end to a story, a mad pony failing in his efforts at the peak of his 'triumph.' Born to the desert to await death in the isolation of an abandoned fortress in the North,” said Sardonyx as he felt a wave of nausea overcome him: failure was sickening.

“Boss, ya’ know I ain’t the type for no book learnin’, but that sounds like a poor endin’ to the story, ” Hummed out the rough, scarred features of a Diamond Dog as he stuck his snout into the room. The creature offered the stallion a weak smile before he lumbered his towering form through the pony-sized doorway. His arms carrying a small tray adorned with a simple meal, “Doc’ says ya’ got to keep up your strength. Won’t be gettin’ paid good no more if we lose good boss.”

“Here I thought you and your compatriots loved me for my charming personality and faith in the cause...thank you Fido. Leave the food on the table, I'll eat it later. Tell Doctor Bones I’ll see him this evening to change the bandage…I do believe that the ending would be ‘poetic’ still; it’s not as if I can return home without that tribe. You and your lot are strong Fido, but they cannot defeat the Sultanate’s Janeighsarries nor hold off a legion of guards-ponies, and if the griffons come in more numbers for-” Sardonyx felt his voice leave him, the stallion suddenly feeling very tired as he leaned against his crutch. Nausea returning to him as he felt his face contort in pain. His face must’ve betrayed him to Fido, the large dog attempting to offer the stallion reassurance as he moved to guide Sardonyx towards his bed.

“We got ya’ out in the Everfree against a lot of ponies. We got ya' out here against a lot of griffons. Only thing that change is that it’s cold here and that griffons got feathers. We got the fort. We have time and the means to finish what you start…promise.”

The gruff dog felt a bit better as the black-coated pony offered him a small nod as his form slumped weakly onto the bed. Sardonyx was good to him, good to the other mercs in the company too. He had them do some rough things along the way, but that was in the job description. He always paid them on time and didn’t let them go hungry, that deserved admiration. Even with the featherheads tracking them down, they would find a way; they'd complete the job. Excusing himself with a short bow of his head, Fido strode out of the room and left his boss to his rest.

Moving out into the courtyard from the small fort's keep, pushing through weakened oak doors barely on their hinges, the haggard mercenary offered an open palm as a panicked looking earth pony galloped towards him. Fido was rather confused. He’d assigned Dirt Hoof to relieve Horns down in the dungeon. “Dirt; what ya’ do back? Ya’ shift end when the moon ri-“

“S-she killed him!” Whimpered out Dirt as he collapsed before Fido, holding the top of his head with his hoof; the sentries on the walls arching their brows slightly as the mixed group turned to watch the commotion. Their voices ranging from whispers of concern to big annoying questions:

"Is that Dirt?"

"What's his deal?"

"Where's Horns?"

“Shuddaup! Who kilt who?” Barked out Fido as his eyes grew wide. He grabbed Dirt with his palms, and he lifted the stammering Equestrian up. Dirt had a notorious mean streak: a trail of bodies from Stalliongrad to Appleloosa had cemented a well-earned notoriety, and eventually a place among Sardonyx's band. He was an outcast among outcasts, one of the most brutal of them. He was one of the few Ponies that Fido could trust to handle dirty work, whatever had him whimpering like a pup was enough to bring concern.

“S-sh…the Vogel! S-she…Celestia, I don’t know what she did to Horns! But he’s s-smashed up like a broken melon! Broke his arms into some kinda knot and bashed his head to bits! S-she's a psycho, and she’s gone Fido! The griffon escaped!” Dirt bellowed before Fido shoved him back. Fido turned his head up towards their boss’ tower. He caught the movement in the window as Sardonyx recoiled from the commotion; frowning as he moved towards the barracks, Fido found a small comfort that at least he wouldn’t have to break the news to the boss himself. He’d still have to have a nice, long talk with Dirt about ‘inside voices’ once he tracked down the featherhead.

Danny Treptow was always proud of his enrollment at the Institute. Proud of his grades, faith, and abilities that had been honed under rigors of the academy’s system. And his appointment to bagpipes within the Band had only improved his outlook this year. Being in the Institute’s Pipe and Drum section was an honor! Wearing the traditional tartan of the section usually filled him with a surge of pride. They started every parade with the shrill call of their music and stood out among the rest of the corps in their unique uniforms of flat-caps and kilts.

Standing in formation with the section, snow leaking into his low-quarters, and still reeling from the shock of the jump to the top of a mountain, however, caused his pride to be suddenly quite diminished.

Treptow seemed to deflate more as the wind harshly whipped between his knees, and he felt part of his pride shrink again. He cursed at himself quietly, a hand meekly holding his kilt down as a cold brush of air prodded at him, “Didn’t even wear…briefs for this…”

A drumstick tapped a bit of powder on Treptow’s shoulder; a friendly face offered him a warm grin as the short, snare player rested an arm atop her drum. “You aren’t usually the one to complain, Danny. Are you finally coming off your highly motivated high-horse to join the rest of us ground pounders? Didn’t expect one of the Chair Force’s finest PT studs to complain about a bit of a chill.”

Sergeant Frontiero stood behind him with a rather smug expression plastered on her rounded features. She was always a sight for sore eyes; her banter usually helped him pass the time during the particularly boring parts of the band. There was always a lot of waiting; waiting for step off, waiting for the others to finish tuning, waiting for the final call to step off. Somedays it seemed rather endless. Plus, it wasn't a secret that he thought she was a bit cute. He didn't figure she was into him but, there was something in her smile that made him blush a bit.

Chuckling lightly, Treptow flashed Frontiero his usual polite greeting of a middle finger before wiping his nose in a vain attempt to stifle off a growing cold; “Maybe if I had a pair of actual pants I wouldn't be complaining…don’t suppose you got an extra pair tucked away in your drum, Sharron?”

“I’m fresh out…I’d offer you mine, Danny; but then again, I’m not so content to give them up so easily,” Sharron finished as she flashed her friend a small grin, her hand tapping the top of her drum in a quick beat as his heart skipped one. Behind them, another cadet let out a fake gagging sound, as if intent on dying of whatever plague he had before he eavesdropped on them anymore.

“Christ, y’all two bumped ugly parts yet? You need some make some woolie cuddles...I swear I could smell the hormones all the way back in Delta…surprised you’ve even got the drive right now with that skirt in this cold Danny-boy!” Barked out Corporal Byrd as he approached the two wearing a wide grin, his rifle slung loosely over his shoulder. Treptow offered a sharp slap to his annoying friend's shoulder as he shook his head, ”Screw you, I don't have to take that from some Marine crayon eater..."

Turning his head a bit to spit a bit of dip into the snow, Byrd turned towards Frontiero; “Danny-boy, I tell you, the purple ones are the best tasting…but we talk turkey later motivator. Right now I gotta chat up your girl,” Byrd cleared his throat as Sharron offered him a glare that was cold as ice, “Reg staff is in a tiff right now…DuPont is having Delta run messages up and down the battalions to pick up on the slack…plan is we’re going to start moving. Some Echo elves decided they’d run off to take a piss off and look around, turns out when they crested that ridge to our flank they saw some fort in the distance.”

Tilting his head down to spit over his shoulder once again, Byrd seemed to quietly thank his lord for having him keep a tin of dip in his cover at all times as Frontiero raised her voice in concern; “A fort? What’s the plan there? Walk up and see if twelve-hundred hungry kids can stay the night?”

“Would be the least crazy thing that’s happened today, wouldn’t you say?” deadpanned Byrd as he unslung his rifle presenting the weapon to her, “Look at this junk, none of our M-14s were loaded when we stepped off…now everyone with a rifle has got a fresh magazine locked in with two more jammed in their cartridge box!”

Yanking his receiver back a round flew out into the blanket of snow, “And they’ve even got firing pins in them now…only the Color Guard gets issued those, and that’s to fire blanks once a semester! Going up to ask if we can stay the night at some little fort is the least maddening thing that’s going on today.”

Blinking as Byrd finished his lecture, the Sergeant crossed her arms a bit as she arched a brow. Gesturing to her drum she shook her head low in amusement, “Yet Band keeps our instruments…”

Sligning his rifle, Byrd threw up his arms into the air in defeat to surrender to the wind as he let out an exasperated laugh; “And they keep all of us in full parade dyke! It’s a miracle on ice, locked and loaded, but dressed to give Abraham Lincoln a good tug…sorry 'bout snapping on you like that...just pass along that we’re moving in fifteen…” Shuffling away Byrd once again hocked a bit of spit to his side as he continued up the different companies.

“Of course. They get working rifles, I get frostbite, and Byrd still gets his dip...makes so much sense,” said Danny from over Frontiero’s shoulder, the woman holding the arch in her brow as she let out a snort. Flashing him a smile that made him feel at least a little warmer, Sharron tapped his shoulder with her fist.

“What’d you expect? We get yanked who-knows-where that still isn’t going to stop that clown from packing a lip. Come help me tell the other sections what’s going down."

Sauntering away from him, Danny shook his head as he followed behind her; "Maybe we get lucky and that forts got magic pants?"

"I don't know. I think you look pretty good in that skirt...Danny-boy."

Three magazines. Twenty rounds each. Sixty individual 7.62-millimeter rounds. His M-14 was capable of firing forty aimed rounds a minute. Cantwell would be able to, in theory, fire all three magazines off within three minutes; given time for reload and controlled aiming.

That is if he’d ever fired the rifle extensively before. It had always just been a glorified club to him. Only became a weapon when they attached the bayonet to it for parade or drill. Even then, he had a suspicion the blade and rifle were older than most of his classmates and wouldn't hold up in an actual combat situation.

Lost in thought Cantwell sidestepped in the snow and fell into Marshall. Apologizing quickly as he was torn, Cantwell fell back into step behind the now relaxed Corporal who suppressed a short laugh as he spoke over his shoulder, “Sweet marching Cantwell…lost in the sauce?”

“No…just lost on top of a mountain somewhere,” murmured Cantwell quietly as the heavy beat of the bass drum sounded off every few moments behind them. Each beat signaled the fall of the Corps' left foot as they marched at a snail’s pace along the plain of the mountain. Nearly stepping on the back of Marshall’s heel once more, John found himself wondering what the point of trying to stay in step was. They were shuffling in a foot of snow down the side of a mountain. A few of them had already rolled their ankles on hidden rocks and were hobbling behind the rest of the formation. The fact that they were in a semblance of a formation was miraculous in itself, the fact only a handful had hurt themselves in the last two hours of marching was even more astounding to him. Aside from their situation as a whole of course.

“It’s calming I suppose...” he said as he chuckled in almost a whisper to himself. His head tilted past a curious glance from Marshall to eye the front of the column. The Stars and Stripes were standing tall next to Stonebridge’s banner and the guidons of the other companies, each once bouncing with each step as they trailed ahead.

“What...you actually lost in the sauce? Cantwell, do you got a flask on you somewhere? Are you holding out on me?” barked out Marshall with a loud laugh. The Corporal wore a loose grin as he adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder, “Didn’t figure you were already mixing alcohol and parade…figure you’re still a bit green for taking that upper-class privilege.”

The Institute was a lot of things, monotonous was one of them. Cantwell had figured out a long time ago that there were a lot of ways to pass the time: studying, training, and reading were among his favorites when things slowed down. Alcohol was usually top pick among others. Even he reached to it more than he'd admit.

“What, no…just wondering about the drums; just seems kinda…superfluous. We’re not exactly discreet here…but maybe it’s just a show for whoever’s in that castle? Maybe it's calming us down?” pausing a bit Cantwell shrugged his shoulders,“I don’t know, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that…you’re all good, you’re pretty sharp, so I’ll take your word on it. Makes sense they want us to keep calm, and I bet Reg staff wants us to look somewhat professional too. A sea of gray coming over a hill one day right to the front of your door? I’d be scared personally. Considering where we are too…some place all the way out here, not like they get company." said Marshall, taking a moment to push his glasses back up his nose.

"You aren’t expecting twelve hundred armed people to show up without warning if you choose to live up on a mountain. Whatever whackjob decides to do that is probably some white-supremacist nut,” said Marshall with a light chuckle, falling back a bit from his spot in the formation to walk alongside Cantwell as their company pressed on.

Offering Marshall a sidelong glance, Cantwell relaxed his shoulders a bit as the world seemed to make some sense again. He was here with his friends and if it was a shitty situation he could at least humor them too; “Corporal; if that's the case...we're going to be in trouble if they see you.”

Laughing loudly, Marshall cocked his hand up to flip the top of Cantwell’s cover nearly sending it off his head. “Hey, they try to burn this piece of chocolate candy I’m letting them cook your kosher keister too! Some Klansman squatting in a castle isn’t gonna take too fondly to either of us.”

“If he sees you that is...it's getting dark out," teased Cantwell as he caught his cover, flashed a broad smile, and brushed a bit of snow from his shoulder. A cruel joke, sure; but Marshall would fire back. He always did.

“With your nose, you’ll probably poke their eyes out first.” Rumbled out Marshall as he shook his head, the man taking a moment to awkwardly shuffle over a rock that jutted out of the snow as the platoon began to move down a slope.

“…your sister didn’t mind the schnozz too much when I took her to the formal ball, now did she?” Parried Cantwell with a short laugh, he shoved Marshall back up to his spot in the formation once he regained his footing. Marshall made a light ‘oooo’ sound as he reluctantly moved back to the empty spot in the lines.

“Coming out with the big guns already? I know when I’m facing the heat; point to you John, point to you.”

“Thanks…for that right there I mean, shooting the shit. It helped a lot George,” said John as he settled back into his spot, the man rubbing the back of his neck as he nodded his head at Marshall.

“Looked like you needed to shoot the shit a bit anyway, I got your back man…of course, if you’re thanking me for setting you up with my little sister: we're going to have to have words. You haven’t called her back yet," finished George with another laugh.

The two friends shared a grin as they lumbered forward with the winding column of cadets. The heavy bass drum was echoing along the rolling hills of the mountains as they pushed a road through the snow. The glint from their brass flicking off the bright sun as it pushed inquisitively through the clouds. The snowstorm slowly vanished as the fort in the distance grew closer with each loud thump of the drums.

Aloisia was not a fan of cramped spaces, but her dislike of them was waning as the day progressed.

She was taking a different approach than her last attack; as opposed to flying down into the middle of the courtyard to take out everyone at once, she was taking a more nuanced method this time.

The narrow, suffocating, wing-scraping hallways and passages of the old fort were, unfortunately, perfect for that.

It was more mazelike than she had expected, out of the dungeon one tunnel just lead to another. The more she thought about it, the less surprising it became, the old forts up here were just built on top of each other once one was taken over for centuries. Some of the nooks and crannies she'd been stuffing the bodies were probably from the First Kingdom.

And there were plenty of bodies to stuff.

It was only half an hour after she managed to escape when she heard the muffled cries of alarm. Then her little labyrinth began flooding with mercenaries. Now they didn't move in groups larger than two; any more than that and they'd just end up stabbing each other with their own weapons.

She'll admit, the first time she saw it happen hours ago. It was rather humorous, but they caught on to it rather quick and only traveled in pairs now.

She could handle pairs easily enough.

"You got it, right? When I said, 'I took her out for some hay and then to the hay'..." roared out a mare's voice in a short laugh.

Voices. Another group was coming. Snapping her head back to her work, she dropped the limp body of the mercenary into one of the seemingly empty boxes in the small storeroom and moved to stand against its door. Leaning her head against it, she knelt down to stare through the narrow slit under the door as she watched the pair's shadows pass.

"The joke you said was not funny, and it sounds like the whole adventure was a waste of money." said a deeper voice, what she assumed to be a zebra mystic. Unfortunately for her, it was one of the ones that spoke Equestrian oddly. She still hadn't found her gear and only managed to salvage some crude armor from her conquests so it'd have to be quick or she'd end up getting cooked by a fireball.

"Whatever man...best twenty bits I ever spent!" replied the mare as they moved further down the corridor.

Slowly she began to crack open the door; sliding carefully out into the hall as she lowered herself onto her talons. She kept her sword drawn as she closely tailed them. Her hunch about the male was right. The zebra was holding a staff in his hooves, and the pony carried a crude looking hoof-axe. She could handle the pony easy, but the zebra was going to be tricky; zebra magic was always tricky. Unicorns you just had to break the horn; zebras you had to cut out the tongue.

'CLICK'

Swiveling around the two mercenaries stared at her as the door she exited from shut behind her. Immediately regretting her decision not to prop it open she pounced. Shooting up to her hind-legs, her free talon shot out to punch the pony in her snout. The blow sent her reeling back into her friend before the zebra could raise his staff.

Aiming her next attack low, her short blade swung to hack a deep gash into one of the pony's legs. The mare let out a sharp scream as she collapsed to her side. The zebra cried out angrily as he swung his staff in a quick strike to Aloisia's side. The attack knocked her against the wall just as the mystic skipped back on his hooves.

"You'll find lightning to be very frightening!" chanted out the mystic, his eyes glowing in the dim lighting of the hall before a bolt erupted from his staff. The electrical blast charring the ancient walls of the catacomb as Aloisia threw herself into the other wall to avoid it. She grimaced as she felt the fragments of the stone tear against her back; ripping through the thin patchwork armor barely protecting her.

Rolling off the wall as the zebra began to chant again, she dashed towards the wounded pony. Yanking her quickly up by her mane as a makeshift shield as the mystic finished,"Another bolt for a dolt!"

The mare let out a wounded cry as the blast seared into her; the charge flowing through her enough to give Aloisia a small shock, making her feathers stand on end. The ugly smell of burning hide filled the tunnel as the zebra stood still, mouth agape with a look of horror etched onto his face. A long pause hung over them, Aloisia breaking it as she tossed the limp corpse of the pony to the ground. In a fluid motion, she picked up the mare's discarded hoof-axe and flung it down the passage, the weapon cracking into the top of the frozen zebra's skull.

Standing between the two bodies, Aloisia let out a heavy sigh. She eyed the pony for a moment before quickly turning away, the charred edges of her rib were enough. She didn't need to see the rest. She knew that the mare wasn't getting up again. The zebra wasn't moving anytime soon either, but he might have something useful on him.

Sure enough, after a few moments of navigating the few pouches that hung from his side, she managed to find a small bottle of healing salve and an adrenaline draft. Those would be useful later if she ran into more trouble, but she'd been below the fort running around for what felt like hours.

Turning to look at the corpses she shook her head. There was no point in hiding them. It was time to make her way out. She must've thinned them out by now. Falling back onto her talons as she slowly began to stalk down the corridors, she could hear a quiet commotion going on overhead. Then it grew louder; a few voices calling out down hall to her,

"Stripes! Toothpick! Get back here! They're here! The boss creatures' are here. We need all hands on deck: now!"

A feeling of dread washed over her; her failure had been absolute. She must've only moved the summoning point farther away when she damaged the circle; and not even far enough. Maybe though, maybe she could stop them. Take out Sardonyx, the mercenaries, and his creatures before they left.

She was a Black-Vogel, her order had faced worse odds in the past.

Or she would at least die trying.

Author's Note

((More dialogue; oh boy. Also; meet the 'bad guys'! Yay! Also; dues ex machina rifles! Double yay!)

(Edited Credited: Shadowghostalex)

Chapter Three: Death Before Dishonor

"Ah yes, the 'Siege of New Stonebridge'...all the academies and amateur historians pour their hearts and souls into praising Cadet-Commander King's 'King's Guard' formation. The way it moved as it quickly overtook the fort, the strategic brilliance of using bagpipes to cripple the morale within the mercenary ranks, the elite vanguard of skirmishers sent to weaken the defenders...the most intricate military operation ever performed as if the official story was put together after the fact. Makes you think, doesn't it?

But this is for the record right? To be official? I don't think there was any strategy on that day. I don't mean to insult them...Celestia that'd get on the wife's nerves right quick, bless her soul...but from the way she told me; there wasn't any real organization to it. That all the stories of planning and strategy are just that: stories. History is already filled with myths, why is modern history any different. The way she told it one moment, they were just standing there...waiting to get away from the cold... then the next...

When it happened though was chaos, an utter, maddening rush to get inside. She wasn't sure what triggered it, well, everypony knows what -triggered- the charge...but the anger. She was mad, furious...but it all felt so repressed, she swore to the day she died that she thought it was the spell that made them so brutal. Made them all anxious as a hive of hornets. I believe it was just the nerves though, then again 'a cadet shall never lie, cheat, or steal; nor tolerate those who do'. Her word was better than mine...Luna bless her rest, I hope she's at peace."

-Recording taken from an interview with Flora Fossil, Professor at Stalliongrad College of the Pony Arts

CHAPTER THREE: DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR

Fido was surprised, if not completely shaken. When Sardonyx had told him of the ritual, he had expected maybe a few dozen warriors to arrive. Instead, moving just over the hill to their front was a wide line of nearly a thousand of the two-legged creatures! They all dressed alike; gray coats and hats, each adorned with bits of metal that the sun glared obnoxiously off of. They moved in a tight formation, his ears flicking as he caught the beat of their war drums. Multiple banners flew in front of their horde: a white one adorned with an odd sigil, one lined with stripes and stars, and what seemed to be a dozen tiny red ones.

Sardonyx had not summoned a tribe, but an army!

Standing on the top of the wall, the diamond dog kept his eyes locked at the advancing force. He squinted hard as he tried to make them out in greater detail. His boys around him attempted to do the same, the coming humans dragging everyone from their post. All points of the castle were abandoned as they flocked to huddle and squeeze against the front of the parapet. Each one intent on stealing looks at their boss' work while neglecting their own.

"What are you all looking at? You seen army before! Fought one too! Get bac-" Fido stopped his yelling at the mercenaries as they continued to swarm around him with abandon. He'd beat some sense into them later, but it was no use wrecking his voice over this now. Snorting a bit, he shoved and pushed his way through the crowd as he made for the stairs. He had to tell Sardonyx; if the boss didn't see them, he must've heard their advance. The drums were loud and the shrill cry of some terrible instrument plucked annoyingly at Fido's ears.

Moving towards the door to the castle, Sardonyx flew into him. The crippled pony managing to hobble faster than Fido had ever seen him run. An ecstatic, almost frightening look replaced the broken defeat that had hurt him a few hours ago. He smiled a bit as his boss started to stammer and bounce on his hooves with the same excitement he had when he'd first hired Fido and his band.

"You saw them yes? The text didn't say how magnificent they'd be! Bipedal too! A-and those staffs they're carrying! Maybe they're spears; perhaps they're wizards! Fido...Fido, Fido, Fido! This is it! It all starts here, my loyal compatriot; our triumph!"

Chuckling as he watched his boss twirl around like a pup; Fido knew the news wasn't all good. Trying to reign in his boss' enthusiasm he let a paw fell to rest on the back of the pony's neck, "Boss; we got army yeah...but the featherhead is still running around here...and that book said you summoning a tribe of warriors."

Blinking once, Fido felt his smile fade away back into his usual stiffness, "Those not warriors...look like soldiers; got pretty flags too. Someone else's soldiers...not yours, not yet."

"I-...yes, yes you're right...thank you Fido." Deflating a bit, Sardonyx seemed to put himself back together quickly. Fido still noticed that his boss wasn't sad. Even though his childish smile had left him, he stood tall and proud. He posed himself as he was meant to be, their leader; even if he needed help some times.

"Tell me; your ears are better than mine...what is that dreadful sound? It sounds like a screeching banshee is being burned alive," rumbled out Sardonyx as he moved away from Fido. He hobbled towards the gates and motioned for the dog to follow him.

"Your army seems to have interesting taste in music...hope they fight better than make noise, eh?"

DuPont was required, as all cadets were, to learn about the Battle of Bushong Farm his first year. It was a relatively small battle in the Shenandoah Valley during the Civil War, but a unique one for his Institute. After marching over eighty miles in a span of three days, over two-hundred fifty SBMI cadets engaged Union forces. They were key as they turned the tide of the fight to a rebel victory at Bushong Farm. It was the first and only time a US college's student body had fought as a whole unit and won. Regardless of how he felt about the Confederacy and the 'Antebellum' pride that seemed to choke the deeper parts of the South, DuPont did feel a great deal of pride for his school.

Now, after marching a much less impressive distance with a much more impressive sized corps of cadets, he stood before fort a little over a quarter mile away. He couldn't help but think back to the Bushong Cadets. They'd marched just to act as a reserve unit, and they weren't expecting a fight. By the end of the day, over fifty of them were wounded, and ten had died.

"Nearly a quarter of the Corps was a causality..." said DuPont as a chill raced down his spine.

The drums faded and the pipes halted their cry as King ordered the guidons to raise their colors before falling to rest. The call for a halt echoed down the long column as sergeants barked out the order to their platoons. DuPont took a deep breath as he tilted his head towards King. The towering Regimental Commander offered him a wide grin before tipping his cover to the Regimental Executive Officer, "Miss Jackson, arrange the corps into a triple line facing the fort. First Battalion in the front with Colors, Band in the middle with Staff, and Second Battalion in the rear...we 'ought to look professional to our observers."

Stepping away from the other members of the staff, King waved a hand at DuPont, "We're going to move up and see if the door is open to us. Take some of your guys from Delta as an escort...maybe a squad, not gonna need a platoon. You've got five minutes."

Nodding his head at King, DuPont nearly twisted his ankle in the snow as he spun around. The corps was in a sea of chaos as the RXO, and other officers guided the companies into King's formation. The cadets were, of course, grumbling under their breath: a mix of curses, joking, and general complaints replaced the worried whispers that had started the march. DuPont was personally surprised that no one had shot themselves in the foot during the whole effort.

Moving back to Delta as the company took the far right-flank in the first line, DuPont offered his lieutenants a smile as they huddled around him.

"We're going to be the first ones in. King said we're to take a squad up with him as escort to the fort. We're going to knock and see if anyone's home...other then that the rest of the corp is on stand-by. Once we're cleared to advance, I'll send the squad back as runners. Any questions?"

The lieutenants, all first classmen like him were mostly silent. They'd been relaying messages and using runners the entire march at his discretion to help the RCO, and they'd kept their ears pretty close to the ground. They always seemed to have a good understanding of what was going on. They were sharp like that, and DuPont loved them for it. The silence was broken by his XO Brown as he raised his palm, "What happens if they don't let us in...we've got maybe a few hours until it gets dark. Maybe we can make it through one night. By then though everyone's gonna be restless, cold, and angry...we won't be able to hold any sort of discipline for a second night."

Brown made a good point, that's why he found it so hard to answer. It was glaringly obvious, and something of a loaded question but DuPont could read between the lines well enough.

"There's twelve-hundred of us. About one-thousand of us are armed with loaded rifles, another hundred with sabers, and the rest with various blunt musical objects. If the people there really don't want to let us in...well, we're not going to spend the night out here in the cold. I promise you that," said DuPont as he nodded at Brown.

"Get me Corporal Marshal's group...have them report up here ASAP," said Brown as he shuffled away.

It was imposing to him: the fort. Its walls seemed to tower over them the closer they got. Cantwell knew, in reality, they were perhaps just over a dozen feet tall and crumbled from seemingly centuries of decay. The stone and rotting wood sent a shiver crawling down his spine. Or perhaps that was just the occupants eyeing them.

He'd noticed it about halfway into their advance. There was movement along the walls and a few narrow plums of smoke from fires. DuPont had told them to expect that there might be a single occupant, but more and more seemed to be straining over the stonework to stare at their small squad as they approached. A wedge formation carried them forward, the weapon in his hands feeling lighter as Cantwell found small satisfaction in being center-stage near the tip alongside King.

Turning his head a bit, Cantwell eyed his RCO. He'd never spoken a word to him. He had no reason to really. He was a fourth classman, and King was a first classman. Not to mention he was the cadet in command of the whole corps, that was a rather significant factor in that too. Cantwell found it particularly surprising that King caught him staring and then spoke to him using his name,

"Cantwell, I'm going to ask you a very important question...is something wrong with their faces?"

Blinking once as King threw up a fist to signal an immediate halt, Cantwell canted his head up to look at the features of the fort's occupiers.

Or lack of normal features.

Cantwell swore at first he must've been seeing things when a dog wearing a suit of armor stuck its snout over the wall before barking out orders in English to the other partially armored things on the parapet. Round, horse-like faces, squeezed against Zebra-things, other dog-monsters, and beaked birdmen. It was real though. They couldn't be more than thirty meters away, sitting on top of the wall whispering hushed words to each other with the occasional jeer leaping out of the crowd.

'They're like hornless minatours.'

'Nice sticks they got; wonder how long they'll last against a mage.'

'They look like hairless apes!'

Finding his voice returning, Cantwell nodded his head at King; "Yes sir...you're...ah...I'm seeing what you're seeing. And I'm assuming...that I'm hearing what you're hearing."

Cantwell heard DuPont next, his CO breaking from his place on the far end of the wedge and moving up towards King. Flashing a glance at Cantwell, the man tapped him on the shoulder and pointed down to Marshal. Shuffling down the line to DuPont's former spot as the doors to the fort swung open. Cantwell found himself standing next to his friend as a three-legged, black coated, unicorn managed to strut out in-front of towering dog-creature.

"Well...we've become the envy of every six-year-old girl John...it seems we've come across a unicorn," said Marshal as he let out a short chuckle. Smirking a bit, Cantwell found himself joining his friend in smiling in-spite of a death glare being shot by DuPont at them. A snort escaped King, then a chuckle, before he fell into a shallow laugh. The sheer absurdity broke their bearing. Even DuPont joined the rest of the squad after a shake of his head as they laughed themselves silly.

A somewhat stunned unicorn standing a few feet away with an inquisitive arch in his brow being the punchline.

"I was expecting more of awe; perhaps even a formal greeting," said the unicorn as it spoke to its taller companion, the dog offering a muffled grunt as it shrugged its shoulders. The unicorn's words seemed to quiet most of them, though the dog's shrug sent another short chuckle through Marshal.

Cantwell cringed as the unicorn stared at King, the horse smiling a bit too wide to be comfortable with. The dog seemed to be content sizing them up as the unicorn seemed intent to examine each one of them as if they were on an auction block. Pointing a hoof at King, the creature hummed out to him, "I was worried you all got lost! Let's get down to business, shall we? I'm Sardonyx...obviously you aren't who I intended to summon, but you're certainly an improvement! This can still work...we should get started immediately."

Scratching the back of his neck, Cantwell couldn't help but feel another shiver creep down the back of his neck. A mythical creature was speaking perfect English to them about 'summoning' and what he assumed to be magic, but perhaps the devil was in the other details. The fort was decrepit. No flags were flying from it, its occupants didn't look uniform at all, and it reminded him of bandit-lair in a book more than anything else.

"Send us back," said King in a voice Cantwell thought was colder than the mountain itself. The unicorn froze, the observers on the fort's walls falling silent as the winds whipped around them. King crossed his massive arms moving to tower over the unicorn, his voice rising to an angry shout as he chewed out the creature.

"You brought us here...now you're going to send us back!"

"No," said Sardonyx as he craned his neck as best he could to offer King a troubling frown, "The spell only works one way! Besides, you have a greater purpose! Riches and glory await us! Wh-"

The unicorn was cut off as King moved a hand to withdraw the slender saber from his belt. The slim sword drawing itself to point its tip towards the neck of the pony. Cantwell heard the chaos erupt around him; he raised his rifle up to point towards the wall as the others followed. The wall pointed back: bows, crossbows, and a few ominous glows dotted the fortification as they returned the threat to the cadets with equal vigor.

"No riches, no glory...the Institute doesn't make mercenaries," growled King, the commander edging his sword closer towards the unicorn with small steps. The weight of Cantwell's rifle became heavier in his hands and shook as he watched the standoff. His eyes flicked from a few of the natives on the wall to his other cadets; the rest of the squad was switching their weapons back and forth threatening as many targets as they could.

"But apparently it makes fools. There's no way out! I'm not asking you to submit and serve...I treat my people well, I only need your soldiers for my revolution," said Sardonyx as he wore a calm, practiced smile. The unicorn's horn glowing as an aura wrapped around the edge of King's sword to nudge it away.

A magic horse tells you there's no way home.

No way back.

Offers you thinly veiled chains with a smile.

Even after what followed, Cantwell would've done the same thing King did.

He would've tried stabbing that slimy creature in its goddamned head too.

Aloisia had escaped the catacombs of the crumbling fort to catch sight of the small band of creatures advancing. Her exit was widely ignored as every mercenary seemed intent to watch their new found allies march up towards to the gates instead of searching for her. The griffon's heart sank into her gut as she managed to sneak up the wall. The army a few hundred meters away from the fortress sending a shudder through her.

The High-King had to be warned, the Vogels must be assembled.

Stalking away from the wall's edge, she crept towards the base of a wooden watchtower built atop the fortifications. She could still complete her original mission before the worst. She could still deliver some semblance of justice. If she got a vantage point, she could make her next move, or even get a clear dive on Sardonyx if he pokes his head out.

"It would mean death...but he can't escape to harm anyone else," she whispered to herself as she scampered up the ladder's rungs. Intruding on her vantage point was a stout diamond dog cradling a crossbow, the thick mutt keeping his eyes focused on the commotion below as the strange creatures stood just outside the gate. His ears flicked as they seemed intent on straining to listen too, ignoring Aloisia's growl as she crept up behind him.

A quick jab buried her blade to its hilt in the dog's head. The mercenary's body collapsing backward limp. Smirking a bit, Aloisia leaned over to liberate the heavy weapon from the corpse as she knelt down to peak her head over the watchtower's edge. It was a better view, and now she could clearly see them.

Six creatures in total, all dressed in the same dark grey coats and caps wielding barreled-spears. Their leader was already engaged in conversation with Sardonyx and his mutt Fido. Feeling the weight of the crossbow in her hands, she hesitated. She could make a shot. Maybe she'd get one or two bolts off before one of the mercenary's mages would just ignite the tower to flush her out. Then she'd just be picked off by other archers, or worse: captured again.

This was her chance though.

She was torn from her thoughts as the mercenaries let out worried cries. The sounds of weapons rising and armor shifting had her take another glance over the watchtower's edge. The creature's leader had pulled a sword on Sardonyx, it was holding the blade to the unicorn's throat!

Sardonyx seemed to try calming the creature, a smile plastered on his face as his magic wrapped around the tip of the sword pushing it from his neck. That damned, slimy smile. Rising from the guard tower, Aloisia leveled the weapon at him. Death or not, she would take that unicorn with her.

An anger shout rose from the creature, the leader of the band swing his sword high as he boomed out in a voice that would rival the old Equestrian royalty,

"Death before dishonor!"

Flinging himself at Sardonyx; the unicorn jumped back as he wrapped the creature's arm in his magic twisting it at a disgusting angle. The crack was as audible as the arm wrapped around itself and drove its blade into the stomach of its master. The creature's companions were staring with looks of shock and horror as their friend managed to take a step forward, his lips moving in a curse before he fell to his knees, head slumped down.

Aloisia froze and hesitated. Silence fell over them all like a massive wave before the other creatures gave their response. The ends of their clubs had leveled at the unicorn before Fido lunged to cover his boss with his hulking form.

CRACK!

A chunk of Fido's shoulder ruptured as its armor was torn asunder from an impact. Another shot followed as a piece of his forearm scattered into the snow, and his body was riddled with craters from a shower of metal shrieking into his armored form. Whatever plating the mercenary had broke under the hailstorm as he collapsed into an ugly bleeding mess.

An orange coated mare cried out from the fortifications as she leaned over the parapet, the mercenaries silent as they seemed frozen by the death of their commander; "Fido!"

It was then that the creatures were reminded of the other mercenaries, other targets. Their weapons were twisting away from the dog as they released another series of shrieks from their spears. The wall around the mare chipped away with small bursts of stone as their bolts slammed into it before one found their mark in the pony's chest; throwing her out of sight. The creatures stood together as they fired against the fort, intent to keep the whole of the mercenaries at bay.

The shock seemed to fade from the mercenaries as they replied with a stream of arrows, bolts, and magic. A creature was cut down as arrows dug into him. Another was caught in a blast of fire, the stench of burning wool and flesh filling the air as a lingering sting of sulfur hung under it. Aloisia's face scrunched up in disgust before she turned towards the distracted mercenaries and fired the crossbow, a bolt whizzing down into the crowd to bury itself in the head of the unicorn. She might as well contribute.

Ducking back into cover as an arrow brushed the feathers on the top of her head, a swell of drums and the piercing cry of dying animals echoed towards the fort. Peaking her eyes up just for a moment she caught sight of the grey mass in the distance losing whatever formation it had as it rolled towards the fort in an angry wave. The cry of some terrible instrument the only audible sound over the rage of the charging force.

The vanguard of the creatures had huddled into a staggered line. Another two had fallen before they found a small creek-bed to hide down in to trade fire with the fort. A losing battle as one of the creatures found its head separated from its shoulders as a Zebra conjured a lightning blast towards their cover.

Offering justice to the being, she finished reloading the crossbow and returned the favor to the Zebra. The mage falling off the wall with a bolt buried into his side. The body landing just before a brave group of mercenaries as they dashed from a collapsed wall towards Fido's body. Cursing quickly, Aloisia loaded another bolt that shot wide as he tried to cut away one of the mercenaries as they rolled the dead diamond dog off Sardonyx. At least one of the creatures in the creek-bed had the same idea as her, one of their bolts separated a leg from one of the mercenaries helping the Saddle Arabian up.

Sardonyx turned his horn as telekinetic hold grabbed the creature from the bed and yanked him like a ragdoll into the wall with an audible crack. He hobbled over the walls into the fort as the grey wave of monsters began to close around them. The cry of their horns nearly shattered Aloisia's ears as a chorus of shrieks pelted the fort. The mass influx of soldiers cut down the mercenaries still raining fire onto the survivors in the creekbed as they surged forward. Part of her cover splintered around her as they directed a few shots at her, ducking her head down she knelt low. Catching the sight of Sardonyx reaching the doors of his keep, she growled.

Moving down next to the dead dog she shared the tower with, she tore the blade from its skull and dove over the edge. Soaring over the mercenaries as their lieutenants rallied them to the walls she chased Sardonyx's shadow as he slipped away into the fort's keep. He wouldn't get away, not now.

Not again.

Ammo. Bullets. Magazines.

Cantwell needed more ammo, more bullets, more magazines.

Tapping DuPont on the shoulder, he scampered out of cover as a few bullets whizzed past his side with DuPont offering what covering fire he could. Moving towards Marshal, Cantwell dove onto his stomach as an arrow buried itself into his friend's side. George met the blow into his charred side with a glassy stare, unmoving as he remained burned into a rigid fetal position. The stench of wet wool and burning flesh hitting Cantwell as he rolled his friend over, yanking at his cartridge box before he managed to tear it off.

"John...John...help me...help me..."

Cantwell kept moving. The voice wasn't real. Marshal wasn't talking. He wasn't able to speak, he only screamed when he died. Only screamed, not talked. Rolling the corpse back over, the charred skin of his friend remained frozen in terror. His screams were still audible in the back of Cantwell's mind as he fought Marshal over his rifle, his hands locked around the stock before a spastic twist tore the weapon away from the deceased corporal.

Running back towards creek-bed, Cadet Stanard flew over his head as the unicorn threw him into the fort's wall with a sound of a melon hitting the pavement. Diving beside DuPont, he handed him Marshal's cartridge box and rifle. His CO offered him a cold stare as he gestured towards his forehead.

Running his hand along his head, Cantwell managed to smear rifle grease on his face. No, not grease. Marshal. Blinking once, Cantwell let out a slow chuckle, DuPont joining him as they stared at it each other with horrified expressions. The world around them was an insane joke.

A big, stupid, chaotic joke.

The cry of bagpipes ended their laughter, Cantwell keeling over as he lost the contents of his stomach. Trying to grab handfuls of his snow to rub away his friend as the corps raced up behind them. DuPont grabbed Cantwell's dyke straps and pulled him up over the top as the gray sea moved around them;

"Com'on! Do that when we're done!"

Managing to find his step, DuPont peeled over into the wave of cadets as the Stars and Stripes passed him. Jackson waved her saber around madly as she charged with the colors at the head of the horde. Cantwell swore on his life he saw her slice an arrow out of the air, but the adrenaline beating his heart demanded his attention elsewhere.

Joining his voice with the others, he screamed as he charged with a clump of cadets as they tore their way towards one of the breaches in the wall. Others broke off and scampered up the sides of the fort as a few joined the RXO in throwing their bodies against the wooden gate. The aging doors gave way easily to the mass of bodies. The cadets poured in across the fortifications as they cut down anything that in their path with blasts from their rifles.

Crossing over the top of the wall, Cantwell swiveled around to catch sight of a dog-monster charging him. His gun no longer felt as heavy as he discharged three rounds into the beast's form.

One in the chest.

Two in the chest.

And another to the chest for Marshal.

Dashing away from the body he passed a beast engaged in melee with a cadet that had discarded his rifle. The horse-creature showing more skill as he lunged the short sword into the cadet's neck using his teeth. Cantwell moved to join two others as they surrounded the victorious horse and loaded a few rounds into him before proceeding deeper into the chaos.

Bayonets fixed and rage fueling them, they tore into all they could find. A minotaur was pinned by a trio cadets with bayonets as an officer hacked away at the creature with his parade saber. The short bayonets only slowed the muscular beast down as it swung a powerful arm to knock them all back. Another bayonet surprised him at the base of his back, a cadet letting out her yell as she crippled the creature. The minotaur was swarmed by the others as they stabbed him relentlessly until his body stopped twitching.

A Zebra tossed a glass jug like a grenade into a clump of cadets that erupted into a wave of fire, Cantwell to stared in horror as they burned. He felt the warmth of fire against the skin of his face as they fell into the snow screaming. The beast launching himself at another group before he was cut down in a hail of vengeful bullets. A hand grabbed Cantwell on his shoulder and shook him; "We're winning! Keep pushing! Run 'em down!"

The RXO shoved him away and deeper into the fray.

Shots rang out around him as they cleared out the courtyard and opposite walls. Bolts, arrows, and magic took them down before bullets and iron drove the defenders further back.

The defenders cried whenever one of theirs fell, and the cadets roared when one of them died. The bullets tore away limbs and shrieks of pain filled the sound of gunfire didn't reach. Magic swatted cadets like insects against walls and blades hacked away at bodies. Throughout it all, the sound of the bagpipes persisted. Their shrill cry circling the fort as the bleak sound of a marching song filled the void empty of the combat around them.

The fighting died out as they pushed the defenders into the corner, a pausing lingering in the air as the monster's weapons clattered to the ground. Rifle fire fell away as the cadets still poured over the walls, the creatures in the courtyard watched the cadets surround them with horror. Those capable of raising their hands above their heads did as others bowed their heads low enough to scrape against the dirt. They had been left alone, abandoned as the rest had either fled or retreated into the bowels of the fort's keep behind them.

It was too sudden; it was over. They'd won.

The creatures waited in the corner. A dozen or so that didn't flee holding their wounded, staring wide-eyed at the horror of the battle that had broken them. The RXO was giving them all some speech, about the 'Institute's pride' and the day in history that had been 'earned.' It was all white noise to Cantwell, just noise.

"John...John...save me..."

Moving towards the creatures as the RXO's speech end was met with a deafening silence, she moved only the cries of the wounded and crackling fires started by the conflict. Even the pipes had stopped, they were all just waiting. Waiting for something. Cantwell stared at the creatures; they were alien, but there was intelligence to them. They spoke English too, Cantwell had heard that black unicorn; he could hear the soft whimpers of their wounded too.

"John...John...save me..."

He still heard Marshal's cries though, the screams. He had heard Stanard being crushed against the wall. He had heard the arrows hit his friends, the blades cut them down, and the fires burn them alive. He had heard King's dying breath, damning the beasts all to hell. As far as Cantwell was concerned that was an order now.

The silence around them all was finally broken as Cantwell lowered his weapon and began to empty his magazine. It wasn't a fresh one. He fired only about ten rounds into the creatures before he felt the 'click' of his rifle. He wasn't alone though. He'd made the decision for them, those who could join him did so as the cadets around him let out an cheer as they mowed them down.

The cheers died away as the rifle fire and creatures did, the RXO waving her saber around the colors as they all began to spread out around the fort. Collecting their wounded and putting down the monsters still clinging to life. More white noise filled the air around him as everyone went about their tasks, soft prayers were spoken, and idle chatter hummed around him. A hand on his shoulder turned him around to face DuPont as his CO stared down at him, "John...you with me? I still need you in this, alright? Head with the group going to clear out the keep; you hear me? I need you awake Cantwell."

DuPont snapped his fingers at him as John felt a nightmare melt away. His weapon massive in his hands and his legs weak in the snow; the smell of the sour air hitting him as staggered and tasted the bile erupting from the back of his throat.

Offering a quick nod to DuPont's shoes after he finished vomiting he jogged over mutilated bodies towards the small group assembling at the base of the fort's keep. Casting a glance to the corner where others were dumping the bodies of the creatures, he didn't hear Marshal's screams anymore. He didn't hear his voice. He didn't hear anything.

He only heard the soft whimpers of the creatures before the rifle fire took them away.

Author's Note

Yeah...it's a bit of a tone shift. It's ugly, dirty, and nasty.

Chapter Four: Unguibus et Rostro

"Trying to describe our logistical situation could only be summed up with one word: nightmare. Most of the hundred or so KIA were officers and sergeants. Apparently, a parade saber doesn't grant you the same protection as a rifle in a melee. A clear count on how much ammo we'd wasted? At the very least half of it; we were all too trigger happy...didn't know hard the 7.62 actually hurt them, so a lot of folks ended up emptying half their mags into one target. Oh; and our information? Zilch. Nada. Kaput. It's not like anyone had the foresight to take prisoners, and any documents we found were useless. Equestrian and Griffonage are similar to English when you're talking it out, but it's all a bunch of squiggly lines when you start writing! Even our Arabic major couldn't make heads or tails of it, pun fully intended...we'd just lost our bosses, our friends, and our home...I figured we were pretty screwed.

We got lucky though, we've got our problems with some of the griffon princes these days...but our warm and fuzzy relationship with High King and his Vogels? We might've found shelter in Equus, but we owe our lives to her. Thanks to Aloisia, our SNAFU could be downgraded to a jumbled mess.

Still sucked a lot and all."

-Recorded interview with Charlie Byrd for the Canterlot Archives File: "First Contact"

CHAPTER FOUR: UNGUIBUS ET ROSTRO

Danny Treptow wasn't planning on fighting in any battle or killing anyone at any time in his life. Stonebridge was an odd college for someone who didn't want to fight, but the alumni network was just too tempting to turn down, and the engineering scholarship had clinched it. He was eventually won over by the Air Force, the promise of piloting cargo sounded rather appealing to him; got to help without hurting anyone. Opened up plenty of job fields once he did his time too. Even then, he didn't think he'd ever actually see combat; only hear about it as he hopped between bases for a few years.

To be fair, Danny technically hadn't fought. Bagpipes aren't really useful as weapons.

But apparently, you can cripple a dog-monster using a bagpipe with a high 'C' before your best friend kills it with a pair of drumsticks through the eyes. So there was that.

Danny Treptow was still caught in a daze of it all as the world moved around him as the battle faded away. The ugly smack of limp, alien bodies being tossed into a pile behind him sent waves of nausea rolling through his stomach as it tugged him back to his current work. Sharron's upbeat, borderline happy attitude, was getting under his skin as he shuffled behind her as they checked over the neat rows of fallen cadets. A pad of paper in his hand as he mindlessly scribbled down the names of the bodies.

"Danny-boy...Danny...Treptow! You're staring...and not in a good way, is something on my face?" said Sharron as she tilted her head at him. Her voice hummed out with a tone that'd usually make his heart skip but fell flat to him as she moved the body of the cadet like a ragdoll. Flipping the corpse onto its stomach, she fished out two magazines from his cartridge box before checking his cover for his name.

"Looks like our friend here is one...'Sutton, Allen: Foxtrot Commanding Officer'...I remember him! He was in our Biochemistry class last year! Funny guy; a bit of a charmer too. So confident, cute, and look at that smile!" teased Sharron as she rolled the body to its back, cupping Allen's cheeks to make a rather disturbed grin.

"Jesus...Sharron...how're you..." stammered out Danny as he scribbled down the name of the unfortunate cadet. His hands were squeezing hard on the pen as he started to glare at her. Her rounded, bright smile was infuriating him to no end as she arched a brow at him and kept squeezing at Allen's cheeks: it was disgusting.

"Sharron! Knock it off!" screamed Danny as grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back off the body. Instantly regretting the decision as she stared up at him with a cold glare and rose to her feet to shove his much larger frame in return.

"Jackass, you've got a pair! What the hell is wrong with you? You've been acting like a wuss since I gutted the dog back when it attacked! Get your head back in this game!"

"You're playing with Allen's goddamn body; can you not see how goddamned screwed up that is?!" screamed Danny as he shook her by her shoulders, "This isn't a game!"

"There's unicorns, magic, and I just killed monster; heaven forbid I try to make a few jokes and have fun with it all! It has to be a game...god...I jus-..." tearing up, Sharron fell forward to bury her head into Danny's shoulder; choking back a sob before she spoke into him.

"This has to be a game...it has to be...everyone's dead a-and...god Danny, I just want to go home...this isn't right."

Holding her, Danny lost a lot of his anger. He found it a bit of a cliche, but it was melting away. Holding the back of her head, he hugged her tight as he could before letting go. She was hurting just as badly as he was, just had her way of dealing with it. Albeit it was beyond messed up. Speaking in a soft tone, he let his arms hang down by his sides as she still seemed intent on squeezing him like a giant teddy bear, "I want to go home too, but...we...this isn't a game. We play our parts, and we can still get out of this...just, keep it together. I've got you. We're going to make it, here, I'll get the names from the bodies. You just write them down."

Feeling her nod into his coat, he moved out of the embrace and towards the lines of neatly placed cadets. Kneeling down, he began the search of next man. It only took a moment to identify him. He didn't need to check for rank or his name. Danny knew him quite well. Everyone did. Clearing his throat a bit, Danny turned his head up towards Sharron.

"King, Henry...Regimental Commander...what's the count so far?"

Sharron offered a slight nod to him as she looked at the paper; "That's fifty-four confirmed deaths, another seventy or so yet to be identified...with a few more still being treated by the EMTs."

Turning his head to stare at the orderly rows of bodies, Danny felt his stomach tie into a knot. It felt like there was so many. As if the entire corps was gutted. He knew that it wasn't the case, but there were enough familiar faces among the dead that it felt like he'd lost a whole part of his family.

And in a way, he did. They all did.

Standing up, he stepped over King and moved to the next body.

"Brown, David...Delta Company Executive Officer."

If they couldn't get them home, he'd get them buried properly; they'd want that. They deserved that. They bled here, as far as he could tell they earned a piece of 'home,' somewhere in this world at least. Right here though, right now, Danny knew something for a fact. This little, shitty fort was now a small piece of Virginia. It was part of America. And it was part of the Institute.

It was a little piece of home.

"New Stonebridge..." he said, as if sampling the name on his tongue, "...this place should be called New Stonebridge."

"A bit unoriginal in my opinion, but it'll hold up. I think they'd like it too...Institute wasn't much to look at anyway, they'll appreciate the irony," teased Sharron as she set a hand on Danny's shoulder, wearing a more relaxed smile.

Things were messed up, they'd lost friends, but he still had his best friend. Rising with a small smirk on his face, Danny found himself blushing as he snatched the notepad from her hands and tapped the top of her head with it, "It's for them. Not for you and your twisted sense of humor."

Flipping to growing list of the KIA he scribbled in what he considered to be suitable:

'Died on the Field of Honor during the Siege of New Stonebridge'

Aolisia flew down the winding corridors of the catacombs, crashing through thin doors and cutting down the mercenaries trailing before her in their frantic retreat from the invaders. Swinging her short sword into the back of a pegasus, she cleaved through the wings before tossing the screaming pony over her shoulder as she continued her mad sprint.

There was no way she was letting that bastard escape. He'd done too much to get escape now!

"Com'on...com'on..." she said to herself as she picked up a tower shield to use as a battering ram as she crashed through another door. Greeting her was a small pack of mercenaries, their faces partially obscured by crude armor wearing looks of shock as she tumbled into their room. A griffon in thin leather armor and polished steel plates cocked an open helmet towards her wearing an angry glare.

"All of you fall back! I'll hold the Vogel off, protect him with your lives!"

That soft-beaked traitor was wearing her gear. He was wielding her sword. He wore Vogel's sigil on his chest. And was giving orders to Sardonyx's pawns.

Sardonyx could...wait, at least for the moment. She could deal with his lackey easy enough, and it saved time she'd have to spend later looking for her gear. Eyeing up the griffon across from her, she began to stalk around him in a wide circle as the other mercenaries filed out of the room. Her voice rolled out coolly as she arched her brow,

"It's bad luck to take someone's armor while they're still alive...and it's an even worse idea to take it from a Vogel."

"Vogel this, and Black-Vogel that...I wasn't hatched yesterday half-blood...you're Aloisia Asumahn aren't you? Alger's bastard daughter to that 'camp wife' in the slum fiefdom of Griffonstone. I thought I recognized your family's mark staining this armor somewhere, but it's not even your family! He didn't even give you the name!" cackled the armored griffon as he rose to his hind-legs and lowered the sword into angled guard.

"Knight-Commander to you scum...I don't need his name. My own has gotten me far enough, farther than whatever yours did. A mercenary is such a high honor," teased Aloisia as she stayed low; creeping around her circle as she began to tighten it up with each careful step.

"Don't act so coy girl, I'm no mere mercen-"

" 'No mere mercenary dog,' that's where that was going right, exile? You must be an exile! Only a low-born noble would have the audacity to still have his pride after being cast out," cut in Aloisia as she shot herself towards the disgruntled griffon. He barely managed to deflect a slash to his head before her leg swung into his side and sent him staggering back.

"You snide bit-" barked out the griffon as he swung high over Aloisia as she fell back to the ground, her arm shooting out to slash one of his hind-legs with her blade; opening a wide gash in his ankle.

"No real skill either, other griffons I've seen in Sardonyx's ranks are at least veterans of some kind...maybe from your house?"

Her taunt brought an angry cry from the griffon as he swung the sword down like a hammer, chipping its edge against the stone floor as he missed her. He staggered forward as the pain in his leg controlled him, Aloisia rolling up to her feet wearing a broad smile. Her blade swung to slash at one of his exposed wings, her follow-through passing through the thin limb easily as it fell twitching to the floor.

"You're-I'm sorry, you were a prince, weren't you? You know what's funny? You weren't even important enough for the Lord Protector to mention when I received the mission: I bet that stings. But what's a name worth anyway?"

"Shut up!" bellowed the exile as he lunged wildly at her. The sword was caught above his head as Aloisia forced his wrist to give way with an audible 'pop.' Reclaiming her blade as she swung its spiked pommel back against his exposed face and skipped back.

"You're child wielding a toy; let me demonstrate how a real griffon uses a sword."

Wrapping her talon a few inches past the hilt, she dashed forward swinging the sword in short cuts to slash at his hands as he brought them up in a desperate defense. Her efforts granted her pained cries from the griffon as a talon broke against her steel as she closed the distance between them. Her shoulders leaned forward as she lunged and drove the tip of her sword into the open faced helmet.

The weak fight she felt along the length of her weapon died away as she jerked it violently to the side before stepping back, withdrawing the sword she let the exiled prince crumpled limp to the floor.

She wasn't just angering the griffon when she teased him, and that annoyed her to no end. She hadn't been told about him. Sardonyx wasn't supposed to have any allies in griffon lands. Perhaps a few local thugs and outsourced mercenaries were to be expected, but an exiled noble house? There was something more at play.

Eyeing the dead griffon's body as he stained her sigil with his blood, she shook her head before leaning down to remove the chest-piece and quickly strap it to herself. The drying blood tugged at the feathers around her neck, but she could clean it later when she recovered the rest of her armor.

Hopping over the prince's body, she swung herself down the hallway as she dashed where the prince's allies had fled. She was close now. The corridors were narrowing, and she could begin to feel a draft in the air with the hum of wind against the stone.

"Another exit..." she cursed to herself as she rounded the twisting zig-zag of endless corners before emerging into a large dome stretching up into darkness. Shadows were cast across the bones and cobwebs decorating the catacomb's decaying center from a flickering portal dominating the chamber. The remaining mercenaries smuggling crates and themselves through the portal as the lithe form of a three-legged Saddle Arabian watched with a book held in his magic as he idly flicked through the pages.

Shifting around slowly on his remaining legs, Sardonyx cast a broad smile at Aloisia as his men called out a warning to him. Nodding the dark fur of his head, he tilted his horn towards the portal, "All of you go: now. I'll be right behind you."

The remaining band of mercenaries shot worried looks to their boss; the group taking the remaining crates with them as they fled. The crypt soon emptied save for Aloisia and Sardonyx. The griffon staring daggers at the unicorn as he wore a smile that twisted a knife under her feathers.

"I'm surprised they'd follow you still...your monsters killed their boss and most of their friends," snapped Aloisia as she began a slow walk forward. The griffon dragging the tip of her sword against the stone as she felt her beak bending into a wide grin. Her heart beat against her armor. She had him, only a few steps away.

"They understand the meaning of sacrifice and courage...their way to glory! Or at least to payment in the spoils of our victory."

"Glory? What glory have you offered? You wiped out a village of griffons for blood magic, slaughtered a few ponies for that book of yours, and, betrayed your king...all I see is corruption, murder, and betrayal! No glory in that," she said. Just had to keep him talking. To close the distance.

"The Sultanate is not a king worth dying for! I will forge a new path in his damned blood! The glory I offer is not your simple minded 'power,' but it is the glory of being free from the gods that rule over you all like puppets! My glory that my men so eagerly cling to? I give them freedom from tyrants! No Sultans...no Princesses...and no High-Kings," bellowed out Sardonyx as he slammed his hoof to the ground; the crack echoing out in the chamber over the hum of the portal, giving Aloisia pause for just a moment.

Composing himself, the unicorn blinked as he shook his head. The stallion seemed tired as if the weight of the day fell on his shoulders all at once. An opening.

Lunging forward, Aloisia's wings flung her towards the pony, attempting to swing her blade against his head. A sharp 'fizzle' crackled out from his horn faster then she could swing as a kinetic blast punched her in the chest and shot her back against the wall with an ugly 'pop.'

"You consider yourself a servant of justice? It's all you rambled about when we held you...your mission, your creed...it's nothing if it only preserves tyranny. And what makes your methods so different than mine? I've read my history, Vogel! When the High-King needs to put down a peasant revolt, he does not send the Legions...no, he sends the Vogels to do the dirty work. How many villages of your own have you wiped out? How many have you killed? Ask your Lord Protector about those facts and see how heroic your efforts are to your decaying Empire..."

Aloisia rose slowly; her ribs were stinging her as she hobbled forward. The burning sensation against her chest fell away as she tore off the charred remains of her chest piece. She stumbled, angrily cursing to herself as her ribs screamed out in agony as she struggled to hold out her weapon properly as the horned-bastard continued to smile; "Shut up! You...three-legged freak, I'll send you Tartarus to rot!"

"No, you won't," hummed out Sardonyx as another smile was plastered across his face, the pony turning on his hooves as he backed through the portal snapping his book shut.

"You and what army..is going to stop me...?" grunted out Aloisia as she hobbled closer. She leaned her weight against her sword before she collapsed to her knees, her legs giving out from under her as the pain in her side overcame her fury.

"Why that army I summoned of course," teased Sardonyx as the clatter of feet became audible from the hall behind her. The shouts of Sardonyx's creatures racing towards her as the portal began to twist and tear as the stallion disappeared into it. A sharp whine held out in the air as the portal's light stretched wide before snapping close in a bright flash. Leaving Aloisia in stunned silence as a group of monsters trickled into the room.

The cold nip of metal against the back of her neck sent a shiver down her wings. She didn't need to turn around to know what was pressing into her feathers. Aloisia closed her eyes and let her mind wander to happier times, she knew what was coming next. She was determined to meet her end in peace. Her mind raced to time with her mother baking at home and the sweet taste of the pastries she'd make in the winter for her! She could still smell the nutmeg and flour stained against her mother's apron, but it was going to be torn away from her in an instant. A tear rolled down the side of her cheek as the memory faded, only the frantic unease of waiting overcame her as silence hung in the damp air of the tomb. She choked out bitter question, "What...are you waiting for?"

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the face of one of the creatures for the first time. It had sharp features, a stubby snout and angled jaw that wore a thin frown. Its weapon began to shake against the back of her neck. She stared at it for another moment; it was crying too.

The creature let out a choked sob, the weapon still raised as its eyes blinked against a few stray tears rolling down its face. Its voice whispered out past a sore throat in fluent Griffonage, "I...I don't...I...I didn't mean...to..."

Its allies began to lower their weapons, the creatures looking at each other as they seemed intent to watch their friend. One of them slowly approached it, setting a hand on the crying one's shoulder before the creature shrugged it away continued to hold the weapon at her. Blinking a bit, it stared at her. It looked sad, covered in mud and splotches of blood against its grey coat, it looked like a broken toy as opposed to a fearsome monster. Aloisia rose a talon to wipe her face a bit as she closed her eyes once more and waited.

And still, she waited, the metal left her neck as the thing fell to its knees beside her. It cupped the top of its head knocking away its hat to expose a brown mane as it let out another choked sob; "I'm sorry...n-no more...no more killing...I-I..."

The other creatures began to ignore Aloisia and turned their attention to the catacomb, shifting away as another one of the soldiers wrapped an arm around its friend, "Yeah Cantwell...okay...no more killing today...we're going to keep looking around, stay here and...watch it I guess."

'Cantwell' nodded slowly, Aloisia flinched at the glare given by its friend before it moved to join the others in exploring the dome. Shifting a bit, she felt her heart start beating again as her talon shook uncontrollably. The wave of adrenaline keeping her conscious fading away as the pain in her side drove her onto her back with a soft squawk. The dark lighting of the tunnel fading away as 'Cantwell' called out to its friends in the stale air of the catacomb.

"Byrd! G-guys! We need an EMT it's passing ou-!"

Chapter Five: Born in Battle

"In war, it's important for the morale of your force to adapt a careful balance of perception. Your enemy must be monstrous to your soldiers so that they won't hesitate in fighting, a just cause must be given to them to halt any doubt in their actions. At the same time, your warriors must not become monsters to the enemy. If the enemy believes they're fighting monsters, they'll fight just as hard as your warriors should.

Make use of mercy where strategically viable, offer the olive branch at a battle's end and treat your prisoners well. The power of friendship and kindness to a hoofman is more potent than an interrogation or flogging. You will have a well of information from him. One's army will not fight an enemy without reason, too much mercy will take that from them. Too much hatred and your troops will become monsters.

In battle, your force will fight like demons from Tartarus. At battle's end, they shall be Faust's angels. That is the balance of perception."

-Excerpt from "The Taming of Equestria" written by Commander Hurricane

CHAPTER FIVE: BORN IN BATTLE

Tension was thick enough in the damp air of the makeshift war room that DuPont nearly choked on it. He stood alongside the few other surviving company officers as they debated their next action. They'd at least agreed for now to hold position to bury the dead and loot any supplies they could find, even at the risk of enemy reinforcements coming. Deciding how they would lead themselves though was an issue.

"You're proposing we turn over command to the General Committee? What qualification does a glorified student government have in leading us in battle?" snarled Jackson as she punched her fist into the table. DuPont's brow shot up in surprise at the gesture. He'd seen her get heated before during Army training but had never seen her shoot a glare so cold that it could kill a man.

"It-it's a valid option! The corps elected us at the beginning of the year! The Commandant appointed you! It's more democratic than this council!" stammered out Goldsmith as he attempted to throw up his arms, a splint over his arm stopping him with an annoyed grunt.

"Half of the General Committee is dead Goldsmith. We'd have to hold new elections, and obviously, we're not in a situation where we can do that," said DuPont as he shook his head. The surviving officers at the table murmuring in quiet agreement before a voice rose out from Goldsmith once more, trying to salvage his argument where he could;

"And yet we're going to follow the Regimental System instead?"

"You've seen the judgment the corps has when we get released on weekend furloughs back in town, alcohol offenses out the ass and who knows how many drunken displays...I think someone appointed by the Commandant, a former four-star general, is the best choice given our current circumstances," explained DuPont as he offered a polite nod to Jackson.

DuPont thought rather highly of her; she was capable as was King and it wasn't hard to see why she was chosen to be RXO. She'd completed Airborne School and had been selected to attend Air Assault school this coming summer before going to flight school to be an aviator for the Army. Not to mention she had a long reputation for being a good friend to a lot of cadets; if you needed a ride back from the bar: get Jackson. She'd chew your ear off, but she wouldn't turn you over to comm-staff. She'd always stuck to her guns too and didn't tolerate anyone crossing her, someone that did seemed to meet their end with fiery results and an onslaught of demerits. King kept her in check, but without him, her anger was getting the better of her.

"So that's it then? She's going to lead us?" snorted out Goldsmith as he shook his head.

"You got a problem with that boy? Or are you so intimidated by a black woman leading your skinny inbred ass?" snapped Jackson as she reached her limit, punching the table once more tightening the tension in the room as the officers sucked in their breaths. Half of them, DuPont included, expected her to flip the table and break Goldsmith's neck.

Still, DuPont found himself grinning as Goldsmith seemed to shrink under her attack, but at the same time, he found himself cringing too. She seemed ready to take his head clean off if he kept talking; DuPont knew Goldsmith was a bit of jackass, but he didn't think he sincerely meant what he implied. Moving away from his spot, he set a hand on Goldsmith's shoulder as he began to speak, "I just thi-"

"It's been decided...we're not a democracy anyway. If we're stuck out here and if we're fighting, then the SBMI Corps of Cadets has just been mobilized as part of the state's militia. As such, we will respect the chain of command that's in place until we're at a point where we can be relieved of duty," said DuPont, the short clatter of the other company's commanders sounding off in agreement stroked his ego just enough to break out a smile. Turning back towards Jackson, he met her growing grin as she offered him a nod.

"Well said; I'm going to need a new executive officer if I'm assuming the role of RCO...and with that little speech I think you've got my blessing and that of the other companies. Given Delta company's combat causalities, I'm going to fold you all in with the Color Staff under your command Mister DuPont," said Jackson.

Feeling his stomach flip, DuPont offered a joking salute to Jackson as he plastered on a polite smile; "I'll inform my guys right away, and have a corporal deliver a message to you once it's done."

"Stand by on that, Mister DuPont. Now if all other business is settled...second battalion will continue to man the defenses until 2200 hours until the volunteer units finish clearing out the lower-levels, then we'll shift into guard shifts. Alpha, you're on mess duty; see what food is around and start cooking. The rest of first battalion will get a final equipment check from everyone while Band finishes up burying the dead. EMTs have the priority claim over all supplies; they need everything they can get to help the wounded. All of you should start appointing replacements...for the fallen when you get the chance. Hold here for a minute Mister DuPont, the rest of you are dismissed."

Letting out sighs of relief and a few jokes, the officers shuffled out of the room in a quiet murmur. DuPont was soon left standing alone with an apologetic Jackson circling the table towards him, her hands tying her curly hair back into a loose ponytail, "I didn't mean to spring that on you Lee, but I couldn't have Goldsmith undermining me like that. Besides, you've got a cool head and patience that rivaled Henry. I'm going to need a balance...if I don't, I might end up castrating Goldsmith with a rusty spoon next time he opens his mouth.'"

"A bit graphic, but its fine 'Liz...figured something like this might be coming with Henry gone. Just wasn't expecting me. You're looking well by the way, the battle didn't seem to faze you one bit," replied DuPont as he tugged slightly at his collar, the crude stitches an EMT gave him itched like fire against his collar. Arching her brow Jackson tapped the side of her head and shot him an amused look.

"If I told you I managed to knock an arrow out of the air with my sword, would you believe me? It was ugly out there, but that's what war is...I didn't enjoy it by any means, but I'm not going to let it break me. We've still got to get everyone home first, or at least off this mountain before I let myself worry about it. The mission and the men are first."

"The mission and the men? You sure you didn't get your commission when we got teleported here? That sounds like something a real officer would say," teased DuPont as he let himself wear an amused smirk. She politely offered him a shake of the head as she hummed out a polite reply,

"We're all real officers now aren't we, Lee? Born in battle leading the charge? Anyway, you told me before the meeting about 'Sardonyx'...the magic and ranting to King about his 'revolution'...color me skeptical, but I don't think we're going to be getting any reinforcements. He strikes me as an outlier of some kind. No one would make this their home unless they had no other choice. His forces aren't exactly uniform judging by their corpses either," said Jackson as she cycled past him, moving around to the opposite end of the table to curiously examine some of the foreign books they'd managed to confiscate.

"You're more worried about who's chasing him..."

"Exactly, for now, I think we're safe from him. But even if he said he couldn't get us home, he still has that 'spell'...I just said goddamn 'spell'...that got us here. If we get our hands on that magical nonsense I think we can figure it out. If we can't....well...we can still hang him high. He's mobile now, and we aren't, so until we've got the ability to chase him we're just sitting ducks for his pursuers..." mused Jackson as she flipped through the unintelligible scribbling of the book before opening to a rather artistic illustration of two horned pegasi holding up the sun and the moon above a field of smaller horse creatures.

"Who might think we're the army of slaves Sardonyx wanted for his glorious crusade..." DuPont mouthed as he found himself reaching the same conclusion of Jackson as he circled to read over her shoulder. They had stared at the picture of the two creatures for a few moments before she closed the book.

"Did we at least take one prisoner? Or is everyone out there rotting in the courtyard?" she questioned with a tired sigh, shaking her head in disappointment at DuPont as she moved to open the door and exit the chamber; motioning for him to follow as she took her cover from the table.

"Maybe they found on-" said DuPont as he moved to open the door before it swung back on its hinges. Cantwell wore a blank expression as he stepped through the door, the cadet leaning over as he helped an armored griffon stalk into the room. It shot inquisitive glares at both of them as DuPont found himself staring at the half-destroyed armor of the creature adorned with ornate symbols and a sigil engraved into its pauldron.

"We need to figure out what's going on and she wants Sardonyx dead too," said Cantwell

"...Mister DuPont...help your subordinate debrief the prisoner and present the results to me at ASAP...I'm going to go check in with Color Staff," said Jackson as she pinched at her brow, the woman snaking around the small group as she strode out of the room.

Their eyes were the most deceptive thing about them; they were narrow and beady. Their emotions hid behind their glare, and they seemed intent to conceal any tells their eyes might betray. Of course, Aloisia knew there was emotion behind them, the look of consciousness and the tears she'd seen one cry showed they weren't soulless creations.

But they were trying to hide that they felt anything behind their masks, other than a rather strong desire to interrogate her with an intensity that'd make inquisitors blush as they rattled off question after question.

"What are you?"

"Where are we?

"Who are you?"

Pain in her side gave her pause every time she answered them; it made her dawn a mask of her own as she kept her answers short as possible while fighting the urge to grunt out in pain. Her fight with Sardonyx did not go as well as she would've liked and she was stuck in his monsters' custody.

"A Griffon."

"The Southern Alps, near the Celestial Sea."

"Knight-Commander Aloisia Asuhman of the Black-Vogels."

They weren't overtly hostile to her. However, even the one who'd seemed intent on killing her before breaking down appeared to be more curious than vengeful. He, she was quite sure it was a 'he' at least judging by his voice and his Adam's apple, seemed to be intent on trying to hide his curiosity behind a glassy stare. A twitch in his eyebrow gave him away every time she answered a question. He still stank heavily of death, blotches of dried blood were splattered around his neck and yet none of it seemed to be his save for a few scratches on the side of his face.

His superior wasn't so intent to hide his interest in her, the man writing down her answers in a strange script in a book they'd taken from the dilapidated library they were intent on holding her in. He was taller than 'Cantwell,' and wore more stern features. A messy orange mane and freckles across a stubby nose wore a distinct frown as he drawled out in an accent similar to that of Cantwell's.

"Black-Vogels?"

"It's an order that serves the High-King if you'll accept the most basic definition. You wear uniforms and carry banners, surely you're familiar with the idea of service," answered Aloisia as she adopted a tone that she'd use to scold a child. These 'humans', as they identified themselves as, were hesitant as she was to give proper answers, but she'd been able to weed a few out of them while trying to give her best poker face to her burgeoning curiosity.

"Mind the attitude," said Cantwell from over his shoulder as he used a small washcloth to wipe down his neck in the corner of the room before turning back to stare at her. The human intended to try and read her poker face before placing the soaked rag back into the water, but his superior's sigh stopped him in his tracks as he'd moved towards her.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere if we try to imitate the training interrogations...if we're being honest Cantwell, I'd usually just slip a can of dip to the 'prisoner' during the exercises, and he'd let us know what's going on. Miss Jackson will just have to be satisfied with the answers we get in a fair trade. Miss Asuhman, we were cadets: not soldiers. After today that's changed for certain. We're from a country that is known as the United States of America, in a province called Virginia. There is no magic, no kings, and no creatures like yourself. We don't know why we are here, we're barely holding it together, and now we're worried about what happens next. If you're some kind of honorable knight then I..."

"Then we need your help," finished Cantwell before offering an apologetic shrug at the officer for cutting him off. Rather than reprimanding him as any griffon commander would've, the officer waved his hand at Cantwell laughing.

"That's the most direct way to put it."

Blinking once, Aloisia raised her talon up to run it through the tuft of her black-tipped feathers. Her ribs protested at the movement, but she powered through it as her tone shifted. They were very upfront with her then, the officer was almost borderline friendly too. She felt like she could trust them, since they'd fought Sardonyx and won. Even if he'd gotten away, they'd at least disrupted whatever he'd planned next. It's not like she'd be able to escape either, she wouldn't be able to make it down the mountain without her wings before the cold killed her. Aloisia regarded her choices once more before bowing her head down,

"I will try to honor the trust you've just placed in me and be as forthcoming as my oaths allow me to be...what do I call you?"

"Cap-...Commander Lee DuPont, DuPont is fine for now, but I'll stress the formalities among the other cadets."

Turning her head away from DuPont she eyed Cantwell. She'd never asked for his name, merely picked it up along the way. He'd spared her in the catacombs, that much at least deserved a formal introduction even if he had put her in captivity again. She'd 'thank' him for that later, but for now, she offered him a smile as the tension in the room eased,

"And what do I call you?"

"...John...C-Cantwell...Cade-" started the cadet before DuPont cleared his throat cutting him off.

"Corporal John Cantwell."

The sudden promotion seemed to stun Cantwell. His eyebrows rose before a look of an almost utter disgust twisted his face. His hands picked at the dried blood he missed on his neck as Aloisia could almost see the bile churn in his stomach as he seemed to fall into his own world. His voice cracked back weakly as a sullen look replaced the stern mask he'd been trying to wear,

"Corporal...John Cantwell...you can just call me Cantwell."

"My condolences..." said Aloisia as she bowed her head. She knew the pain he carried quite well. His friend must've been lost in the fight, the role he was filling must've been his too. She didn't think highly of DuPont to spring it on Cantwell now, but he did it in such a way that he couldn't outright reject it without undermining his superior in front of a captive. It was cold, but it was smart.

"First things first, while our languages sound similar there is certainly a difference in our writing," said DuPont as he ignored the glare Aloisia found herself leveling at him for a brief moment. Offering out a large tome to her he slid it across to her along with a few other papers. She immediately recognized Sardonyx's flamboyant signature noted at the bottom of each letter and carved into the first page of the tome. Flipping through the papers, she found herself frowning as she shook her head,

"I'm no mage, most of this might as well be Prench to me. You've got an old book on the ancient Heron legends and a few letters in a strange cipher...what else do you have here?" She asked as she continued to flip through the notes. Most of it was indeed annoying gibberish. Strings of nonsensical words or political ramblings about revolutions and an 'Empire in the North.'

"Where are we...in a bit more detail this time," said DuPont.

"You're in an old fort hugging the border of Equestria and the Griffon Empire. In theory, this land is ruled by one of the princes under the High-King, but the closest village is in ashes now courtesy of our former host. The nearest castle is over fifty miles away across the mountains, an easy trip if you've got wings. Near impossible on foot..." pausing in her geography lesson, Aloisia's brows arched up as she let out a chuckle as she pulled out a small book from the tome.

"A ledger for the storerooms in the catacombs, it's got pictures so you ought to be able to understand those at least. I doubt the stallion was quick enough to take everything with him when he fled. If you're lucky, there could be a few healing salves or potions down there plus the food for the garrison. Won't be much use without a unicorn's magic charging the potions but they'll prevent infection at the very least. I also wouldn't mind a drought for my side if you're feeling generous."

"Some good news at least," said Cantwell with a rather grim smile as he moved to take a seat at the table beside DuPont. He ran a hand through his brown, cropped hair as he scratched the back of his neck again. DuPont tapped the top of the table as he rose from the chair, picking up the ledger as he looked at Cantwell and Aloisia,

"They're not antibiotics, but they'll do. Answer whatever questions she has, Corporal. I'm going to get this to the EMTs now and report what we've got so far to the RCO; she's going to want an immediate update to our location and supplies...and I'll get you a potion when I return Miss Asuhman."

Exiting the room in a few long strides, DuPont disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors with an audible click. The man's muffled footfalls grew quieter from under the door as Cantwell leaned back in the simple wooden chair. He was quiet as he fished out a thin white stick from a small packet to hold in his lips. Aloisia found herself staring as the man took a stubby tool from his hat, a flick on its edge bringing up a small flame to the end of his stick. Cantwell took a long drag from the stick as the smell of tobacco betrayed its burning contents to her. Tapping her talon against the table, she opened the palm of her claw to him,

"Tobacco? Perhaps your home is not so different from mine? In regards to...offering gifts to a maiden maybe?"

"You smoke here too? Home doesn't have fireballs and talking horses...but sharing is a thing," said Cantwell much to Aloisia's elation. Smiling as the human struck up another tobacco-stick, she found herself fascinated by the tool he used to light it. Taking the 'smoke' as it was offered she imitated him to a degree as she found herself taking a short puff of it.

"This is excellent, smoother than what the Lord Protector grants us after his visits to Saddle Arabia. It is always thick like a heavy fog, often sour as a swamp too. It also calms the nerves. I try not to make it a ritual but after today...well...many thanks."

"It's a nasty habit to pick up especially with cigarettes. It's smoother sure, but it'll get addicting. I don't like letting others know I smoke anyway. Once people figure out you've got a pack, they'll start bumming them like crazy. Back home tobacco is a big business, but it's pretty expensive with the taxes on it. Easier to snag a cig from a friend then buy it yourself..." blinking a bit, he cleared his throat, "...you're fine though. It's not like I'm going to get another pack anytime soon. Might as well share what I can."

Chuckling lightly, Aloisia tilted her head at the man as she enjoyed the 'cigarette' with a long drag. Mimicking a trick she'd seen another knight do with his pipe, she managed to blow the smoke out her nostrils like a dragon. A grin had broken on Cantwell's face before she leaned against the table, her charred breastplate clicking against it.

"My people aren't familiar with magic as the Equestrians or Zebras, but we've got our warlocks. DuPont said you're from a world without it?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, the human seemed to carefully consider his answer as he blew a short wave of smoke under his breath, "Yes and no...we've got the idea of magic. It's written in old legends and our fiction, but we've never actually been able to do it. Humans adopted tools instead, made our own magic using machines and science."

"Just machines and science then? You're making humans seem like the Yaks, but they don't have weapons that can eviscerate a diamond dog in a single blow," said Aloisia as she rose from the table to wander around the room as she held the cigarette in her beak. Hobbling against the sting of her ribs, she'd look over her shoulder at the man every so often as she searched through the abandoned shelves of books.

Holding up his lighter, Cantwell flicked down on the top to summon the flame again with a spark. The human stared at the tiny fire as he continued to speak in an accent that had a rural flair to it, "We can travel hundreds of miles in a day, cure a thousand diseases, feed millions of people, and kill billions in an instant. Maybe it isn't just machines; I think we're just really stubborn. We see a bird flying, and we decide we want to fly too, except we want to do it better. We want to be faster. And we want to do it in luxury. Takes a while, but people don't give up and in a few decades we go from twig and cloth flying machines to..."

He paused, scrunching up his brow as he stared at her. His smoke burned in his hand as he tapped the ash off a bit as if he couldn't form the words he wanted to. Scratching the back of his neck he took another puff of the cigarette before he shook his head, "...to really, really fast metal machines in the sky that defy gravity itself and escape into the stars."

"We're not without flight ourselves on Equus, Cantwell. I'm quite familiar with the concept and how difficult it can be to sustain flight with a considerable amount of weight. Being able to fly into the night sky though? That sounds like a feat of magic to me," teased Aloisia as she crushed the tip of the smoke against her damaged armor with a short sizzle and stretched her wings carefully. Aloisia was hesitant to admit it, but she was rather enjoying her conversation. Aside from him holding death to the back of her head a few hours ago, he was rather pleasant company. Turning back towards him she rose a talon and pointed up towards the sky,

"I do not mean to brag, but I'm quite fast myself. A Vogel is expected to be. A lone agent of the High-King can't afford to be a lumbering fortress like an Equestrian airshi-...airship," said Aloisia as her gut decided to practice an extreme amount of acrobatics suddenly. Her eyes grew wide, and her expression must've been enough for Cantwell as he shot up from his seat.

"What's wrong?"

"...take me to Commander DuPont right away, I need to warn him what's coming!"

How could she have been so forgetful, so stupid! It had been days since her capture, and her mission was only supposed to take one at the most. She would've been assumed to be dead, and the High-King would have to admit failure to capture Sardonyx to the other leaders. It would be a huge embarrassment to the Griffon Empire!

He'd grant a warrant to others to succeed where he failed, allow the other nations to try their hand. Janeighsarries wouldn't arrive fast enough, the Yaks had no quarrel, and the minatours refused to act on their own.

He'd let the Equestrians try their hoof at justice now.

Byrd managed to send a wad of spit a few meters off the wall to the cheers of the other sentries posted farther down the fortification. They'd finished clearing out the catacombs an hour or two ago after Cantwell started bawling over his new pet and now the new boss was having them getting checks on everyone with their status.

He was also now sergeant to half a squad that didn't exactly exist anymore. There was that too.

The corps for all its worth was still a major pain in his ass. They'd just won a real battle! They'd whipped monsters back to their holes and racked up a body-count that gave the ghost of Chesty Puller a stiffy! Immediately afterward he was stuck doing ammo detail with the Color Staff.

Flicking a used wad of dip to the ground he frowned as he shook his head, he'd made a mistake. He was part of 'Command Company' now or some bull-kaka like that. DuPont hadn't given them a proper name yet, but Jackson had passed along his orders pretty damn clearly. With a good chunk of Delta and the Color Staff dead in the ground, it was just easier to combine the two rather than shrink them down.

Moving up towards a pair of Alpha sentries, the two guards towered over him by a few inches. It was an annoying eccentricity of SBMI that companies were arranged by height to make them look prettier in a parade. The two privates tilted their heads down and offered him a wave as they leaned against the wall.

"You guys all good with ammo, water, and shit?" grunted out Byrd with a snide grin as he had to tilt his head up to eye them.

"With water and 'shit,' yeah. Nearly dry on bullets though. Thank god they found those storerooms though, you hear that they've found some barrels of booze in them too?" replied the sentry with a wide grin, Byrd just now smelling something in his breath as he realized his friend was barely keeping himself upright. Byrd felt a frown growing on his face despite his better judgment, they deserved to party a bit, but this was too much to be on guard.

"Really? Did 'they' give you jerk-offs enough to share?" said Byrd as he crossed his arms, the man shooting them each a fox-like grin. They shouldn't be drinking that much on guard duty. It was a potent combination of stupid that made him look like a genius that made it his obligation to confiscate it and redistribute it of course.

Frowning a bit, the two sentries looked between each other and offered two canteens from their belts with a few quiet curses. Pointing towards the center of the fort Byrd offered them a polite gesture with his finger, "You two get to piss off early, just make it to where you're gonna be sleeping and keep quiet."

Between a confused mix of 'thank-you's' and more cursing, they stumbled away as Byrd took their position on the wall. He didn't like the idea of a guard shift, but it beat going around asking everybody stuff he already knew. They were all fine on food and water, but hardly anyone had any ammo left. He could let the rest of the 'Command Company' spaz out as they interrogated everything with a pulse, he would be content with a drink watching the sunset.

He was smiling still. He just noticed that. In retrospect, aside from when a someone deserved a dirty look, he'd been wearing a happy smile the entire day. Or at least once the fighting started. Taking a swing from the canteen, he washed down a sweet nectar of some kind,

It was good, really good. Tasted like the first coke he split with his dad back in Norfolk when his mom was on deployment as kid, and he swore it even had a 'sound' to it. The Rolling Stones were singing about painting everything black as his dad sang along to it poorly, his voice added to the mix as his mom tried to back them up with a few strums on an old guitar from the computer. The delay from Iraq had her a few beats behind, but it didn't matter. They were an odd family, and they enjoyed themselves anyway. Dad had apparently won her over after Desert Storm: a gangly white hick having the balls to try picking her black-ass up at the bar while she was in dress blues was enough to merit her curiosity. She didn't have to worry about annoying in-laws either, dad's side of the family was a bunch of racist dirtbags and had disowned him after they got hitched.

Taking another sip from the canteen Byrd remembered the first Christmas without her, it was just him and his dad at her grandparent's house. It was so damn quiet. No one wanted to talk about it, they all just looked pitiful instead. Didn't even want to get the bastards who got her, kept saying to pull out of the war and be done with it. He tasted the spite on his tongue as he lashed out at them, he promised he'd get the haji that killed her and damned them for abandoning her service like that. He'd make someone pay. It stung going down again, but it tasted damn good letting it all out once more. For a moment he even felt the bruise of his grandfather's belt on his ass a little while later, a chuckle escaping his lips as he wondered what the hell he was drinking. Even Tequila didn't mess with him this much.

Twisting the cap back onto the canteen he slung it over his shoulder he found that he wasn't smiling anymore; he wasn't feeling any buzz beyond whatever craziness that was either. Everything just seemed more vivid. Usually the opposite of what he felt after guzzling half a bottle of whiskey, it felt more like the buzz he got from nicotine, just sharper. Watching the sun grace the edge of a little mound of snow in the distance, his eyes traced along the splotches of blood on the blanket of snow.

Remembering the fighting made his smile come back again, the drink warming his belly as he dove back to it. There was no way around it: he loved it. It sucked that people died, he didn't want to see a bunch of his friends in Delta get their skulls crushed by fricken' magic but damn if he didn't like getting his revenge by popping that unicorn's head off. It was cathartic, all that madness about being teleported here just was eased away as he beat the butt of his rifle into a splintered wreck against the bird thing's helmet. Every blow he remembered landing felt like taking a bite from a really nice chip. He felt the crunch against his stock and enjoyed the salty taste of his own blood leaking into his mouth from his bloody nose.

Everyone else was coping or breaking down: Cantwell went crazy down in the tunnels, DuPont was pouring himself into work, and Danny and his girl kept cuddling. Was he the only one who didn't feel sorry about the whole thing? Or was he the only one who enjoyed it? He wasn't a sociopath! He didn't like hurting people's feelings or being a cruel jackass, but whipping the crap out of the monsters felt great!

The sky above him danced in a display of bright orange and purple as the sun fell further into the snow; the powdery earth was swallowing it bit by bit as he watched. It was oddly artistic; sunsets back home were nice, though he'd never admit it out loud he thought they were beautiful. This one was something else. It was like an artist with thousands of years of practice was actively painting a picture as each second passed by. Looking over his shoulders, he noticed that the other sentries were staring at it too. It was unbelievable! Staring at the twilight his hand gripped mindlessly at one of the canteens.

He knew what memory he was looking for this time, unscrewing the top he took a long swing from the drink as he felt the soft sand of a warm beach inside his low-quarters. He was just walking along with his mom and dad, watching the sunset. He really liked always handing dad his ice cream and chasing the waves before running back away from them, he was just a kid, but it was fricken' fun. Sometimes he was faster than the water, and he only felt the sand, other times he smelled the salt in the water as it crashed against the back of his legs. In the bright orange hue of the horizon, he heard them cheering him on, and he felt his stomach twist. He missed them.

At least he wasn't a sociopath, but maybe just a bit sadistic.

Holding the canteen out in his hand he poured a bit into his open palm. The sun shined off the bluest liquid he'd ever seen. It was brilliant as if someone had poured a Caribbean island's cove onto his glove. He didn't think they'd found alcohol, but this was something a lot more potent.

A few dark silhouettes moved across the top of the blob of goo, the sunlight reflecting off it as a few voices rose in concern across the parapet. Flicking the liquid away, Byrd cocked his head up towards the shouts as the other sentries began to raise into a frenzy. The shrill cry of a trumpet blared from the far end of the wall as companies tried organizing themselves into sensible defense in a wild frenzy as Byrd's eyes stayed focused on the objects approaching.

Three huge balloons carried the wooden bodies of ships as a few blue specks whirled around them like gnats. The decorated warships were descending closer and closer as the sun stopped its descent at the edge of the night. The stars were revealing themselves in the haze of the twilight as if the sky itself turned against the fort.

"Well...shit," said Byrd as he found himself reaching into his cover to get out his last pinch of dip.

If he was going to fight fricken flying galleons, he was at least going to do it with a real buzz.

"Miss Neptune, signal the Winged Victory and Celestia's Hope. The Eternal Night is going to begin our descent, have the Night Guard close formation around us...there's no telling what Sardonyx has prepared," said Luna as she stood at the bow of her ship. The gentle rocking of the wind calmed her nerves somewhat as the short pegasus snapped a silent salute and flew up towards the crow's nest with a lantern.

Turning on her hooves, she inspected the crew of the ship as they flew about in a frantic hurry. As far as she knew, this was the first time in years that the ships were used for anything other than patrols or parades. The only ponies with any experience in fighting on the expedition were her detachment of bat-ponies and their elder captain who almost made her feel young.

'Do not be so quick to forget that you have plenty of experience in fighting,' she thought as she cast her gaze down towards the fort. The quiet call of an instrument waking its inhabitants as the mad pony's mercenaries manned the walls of the decrepit castle. The griffons had told them that the fort had seen better days, but it seemed positively ruined. Moving closer to the edge of the ship, she stole a glance down and saw the massive wooden gates removed from their hinges. The parapet on the walls chipped away by the elements visibly even from their great height as small dots dashed along them.

And the fear.

She felt that. She'd felt dreams coming in, a few of the mercenaries must've been sleeping. Their rest wasn't deep enough that she could enter their dreams though, her efforts would only shock whoever was awake. They always awoke with a shock of some kind, a terror tearing them away before she was cast out. They were afraid.

Moving down the ship's deck towards the aft of the ship, she caught sight of a familiar pony nervously trotting in place as she flexed her wings. An aura of purple magic was holding a book up to her snout as if wanting to hide behind its pages. Trotting up to her with an amused grin, Luna couldn't help but remember how nervous she was when she first went to battle.

'Or how you felt after; couldn't get enough of it,' she chided to herself in the back of her mind as she cleared her throat audibly.

"Twilight, I greatly appreciate your assistance on this matter but...you don't have to do this."

All the nervous twitching the young alicorn had halted as she nearly dropped her book when she heard Luna clearing her throat. Chuckling lightly, she closed the book and levitated it into her saddle bag shaking her head, "I'm sorry Princess Luna, but I have to. This mad-pony put Zecora in a coma and nearly leveled Fluttershy's house when he got away! Not to mention to the guardponies he killed!"

Glaring a bit at no pony in particular, Twilight sighed and offered Luna an apologetic smile, "I know it's dangerous, but I fought Tirek, Sombra, the Changelings, and...you...it'd be irresponsible if I didn't try to stop Sardonyx after he...murdered good stallions and mares a mile from my castle!"

"You're very noble Twilight, and I'm sorry I had to keep the other element bearers back in Ponyville, but I don't want to think about what Sardonyx could have planned with that book. While the Magic of Friendship is a most powerful force, I firmly believe raw magical prowess is what's needed to deny him his plot here. There is no redemption for him like there was for Discord." said Luna as she flicked her wing a bit, the weight of her armor still foreign on her shoulders after all these centuries. Even when facing Triek and the Changelings she hadn't donned it, but she felt it was needed this time. Force seemed to be the only deterrent to a stallion caught up in his horrid ideology.

"The Picatrix..." said Twilight, mouthing out the name of Saddle Arabian tome with a hint of disgust, "Why did the Sultan keep it after what happened to the Great Tropical Jungle?"

"It was millennia ago Twilight. He and his predecessors likely didn't believe that a simple spellbook was enough to turn his country into a desert...or he wanted it as a trump card in case our relations grew worse. Even after a thousand years, their stance towards us has hardly changed. Sultan after Sultan declaring themselves the 'One True King' and claiming divinity whe-" stopping herself quickly, Luna turned on her hoofs and shook her head.

"Forgive me Twilight. I'm a bit set in my opinions as well...now come, we should join Captain Dusk and his men at the bow for our launch. This fight isn't going to be as it was against the Changelings, these ponies and griffons are killers, they aren't intent on taking prisoners. Are you sure you don't want to stay up here?"

"...no, I gave my word. I'm coming with you."

"Celestia chose you well! Come now Princess Twilight! Thou shalt witness a great feat of glory this day!" shouted out Luna with perhaps too much enthusiasm, the alicorn of the night wielding an ornately decorated warhammer in her magic as she trotted over towards the assembled guards bearing a smile.

"...Sardonyx is a mean bastard. He's bested the Sun Guard and the Black Vogels, but now it's our turn. We're the last effort before Celestia herself comes to unleash the wrath of the sun! Let's save her the time of the day, let the night turn the tide!" barked out the scarred, broken features of the aged Captain Dusk as Luna caught the end of a rousing speech to the other guardponies. They clapped their bladed hooves and weapons against the surface of the ship like thunder as they hollered: they were ready.

"At your ready, my princesses," said the Captain as the clatter of hooves fell silent, the old earth pony bowing his head solemnly to the deck. The stallion was set in his ways too, a rigid formality that never wavered reminded Luna warmly of the past. Even if such practices of respect had fallen out of favor, it was at times quite comforting to see a resemblance of past courtesies in the officer's greeting. Twilight, however, shifted uncomfortably at the stallion. The gesture perhaps lost on her, or maybe just awkward to her modern sensibilities. She was from a different time and only recently crowned. She still seemed to blush whenever anypony addressed her as 'Princess Sparkle.'

"As you were captain. There is no need for any more words, just action. Capture Sardonyx if possible, cut down anyone who opposes you. I expect every one of you to do your duty..." raising her hammer over her head, the ship loomed a few meters above the ground before the fort. Calling out in a voice that shook the deck of the ship Luna leapt over the bow as the bat-ponies followed her on their wings, "FOR EQUESTRIA!"

Raising a large bubble shield as her hoofs fell to the snow, her guards raised their spears to ward off any daring to charge them as they landed beside her. A short 'poof' echoed out behind her as Twilight and Captain Dusk teleported behind her, the guards around them shifting into a square as the sky would be filled with an endless sea of arrows and the cries of war would tear around them! Her heart slammed against her armored chest as her horn effortlessly held the shield at full strength, ready to receive the incoming barrage of fire that was bound to come. No spell or arrow would pierce the barrier as they'd make for the gate! No pony would stop them!

And no pony tried.

They stood there for a few minutes, the wall a few dozen meters away at most silent: no fireballs, arrows, or bolts came. Looking around though the haze of her shield Luna scanned the decaying walls. Blood splattered the stone and scattered corpses partially poked out through the snow, the body of a diamond dog butchered into a disfigured lump rested by the gate.

"Princess..." said Twilight as her voice trailed away, her eyes focused elsewhere.

Luna tilted her head up towards the stout wall, adorning its parapet was a small army. Narrow-pikes stuck out of the wall in droves and remained aimed at her shield. The creatures behind them were calling out to each other in clear Equestrian from rounded faces and gray uniforms. Pale and dark skin stood in place of any fur as they looked at them with a mixture of anger and fear, many darting their eyes between her and the ships now circling the fort.

"More of them?"

"Don't shoot! Jackson is coming!"

"Hold fire!"

"Ma'am...I don't believe Sardonyx is in residence anymore..." stated Captain Dusk as the Night Guard began to hesitate, the bat-ponies dropping the tips of their spears as a small band of creatures began walking out of the ruins of the gate. Walking beneath a large flag decorated with a blue sky held a herd of stars as red and white stripes covered the remainder of the banner, the apes strode up to them in quick steps. Stepping out beside the approaching group of creatures was the armored form of a griffon, the Black-Vogel moving with a slight limp as she rose a talon in greeting.

So the High-King's gambit had succeeded.

A short, dark-skinned creature now stood just at the edge of the shield, the being staring at the blue aura before stepping back. With a quick flick of her wrist, a hand grabbed the saber at her belt. Flicking it out quickly, she tilted its point down to drive it into the ground as she took another step back. Speaking in a calm, even tone as the sword remained planted in the ground,

"Princess Luna, Princess Sparkle: the Corps wishes to parlay."

Author's Note

Edited By the Amazing: Shadowghostalex

Chapter Six: Ilia Militis

"Christ, where do I start this? We had maybe fifty or so 'EMTs' max. That's fifty people, with a greater understanding than just simple first aid, who were required to treat just over a thousand. After New Stonebridge, we had one hundred sixty-four casualties, those killed in action or critically wounded. Hundred-twenty or so died during the battle itself or bled out before the EMTs got to them. Another twenty had died before Princess Luna arrived, the other twenty in critical were likely to die too before she stabilized them. No one blames the EMTs for the deaths though. They treated a lot of the corps that day, off the record, they went above and beyond what was ever expected of them. They did the best with what they could but...

We still all get shivers about that first kill, you never forget the first. But the EMTs? They killed alongside us then got to clean up! I don't even want to think about the nightmares those guys had, ya' know? It's easy to kill after a while...but to lose someone? Hurts. Every. Time.

You tell your brother everything is going to be okay, it's just a flesh wound, and then stuff some gauze into it before you have to abandon them because the next guy is going into shock. The moment you get back to the first guy, he's dead and the second man died a minute ago. All they could do was at least offer comfort to the dying at first, and even later it's not like we've got trained doctors! We've all got the stories about seeing our friends die, perks of being a small school. Everyone knew everyone...

Most of us didn't have to hold them as they died, didn't have to lie to them about it. Didn't have to tell them they were going to make it.

-Recorded interview with Sergeant Sharron Frontiero for the Canterlot Archives File: "Human Anatomy"

CHAPTER SIX: PER ARDUA AD ASTRA

Sardonyx was not one to regret decisions. Usually, that is.

Now though, in the mist of the morning dew staining the bottom of his crutch and wetting his hooves, he was reconsidering some choice aspects of the last day. For starters, he should've killed that Black Vogel when he had the chance. He wouldn't make that same mistake again, she was too indoctrinated, her mind poisoned by the hierarchy she served, and there would be no reasoning with her.

Secondly, a more refined approach would have to be taken. He'd been too loud, too brutal, too big! The glory and freedom he'd bring would have to dance in the shadows for a time, he'd immediately tried sprinting his way through a marathon, and now he was paying the price for it. Fido was right, he was too eager when the humans came...too cocky, too coy...and Fido paid for his mistakes with his life.

Fido.

Fido was gone, but he was true to his word. His band helped him escape. They'd delayed the Vogel and the humans. It was bitter medicine to swallow, but it was somewhat inspiring: even his death served a purpose. After seeing their friend go down, everypony fought as hard as they could.

Sardonyx hoped that his death would one day have such meaning.

Hobbling against his crutch, he trotted towards the small encampment in the heart of the chaotic jungle. The stench of the swamp stung his snout as his leg was caught in a puddle of mud. Shuddering against the cold grasping around his hoof, he yanked it out and offered a nod to the sentry waiting at the makeshift camp's entrance.

"We're heading in the right direction, and we'll move out in the morning. Pardon my manners, but I do not believe I've had the pleasure of earning your name?"

Cocking her head back, the crudely armored mare broke into a light chuckle. She had a simple orange coat, with a white mane peeking out from beneath a T-shaped visor, and her snout was decorated with similarly colored splotches. Wiggling her brow, she tapped his shoulder with her hoof as she spoke; "After getting us out of that mess in the Everfree and that whole clusterfluff back there, you've earned it. Name's Golden Dough, but you can just call me 'Goldie.' It's what everyone calls me anyway."

Sardonyx wore a slight grin. The mare's dented armor plating, bladed hooves, halberd, and scarring around her snout deterred him from using the nickname without permission. Shaking his head, he turned it to the side as he shuffled around her, "I recognize the name, one of Fido's best sergeants if I recall. He spoke quite highly of you, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Flatterer," said Golden with a low hum, the mare leaned against her halberd as she slumped her shoulders. Dipping her head down, the confident mare almost seemed hesitant to say anything else. She strained against something, a pain of some kind sat on the edge of her tongue. Noticing a rather significant dent in her armor, Sardonyx found himself talking before he could finish the thought.

"You survived one of their weapons?"

Grunting hoarsely, she pulled herself up and tapped her chest with her hoof. Putting on a broad smile, she spoke with enough pride to hide the injury, "Yup! Hit like someone bucked me instead of the tree. I ended up being launched off the wall, twisted my leg and got a few broken ribs. By the time I picked myself up, they were already coming over the walls...saw you being taken down to catacombs, so I followed."

"You should be called 'Lucky' instead of 'Goldie' you know, Miss Dough. Drop your chest-plate and let me take a look at what you've got," Said Sardonyx as he tapped her helmet with his hoof and a wink.

Blushing fiercely, the mare scrunched up her snout as the scars around it twisted into a new maze of injury. She almost seemed intent to slap him into the nearest tree before she caught herself, "I'm sorry, didn't figure you're familiar with healing magic."

"I'm no Doctor Bones mind you...I can reduce the swelling and set the ribs...but I can't fix them instantly. Did anyone see what happened to him? I wouldn't mind him lending me a hoof," said Sardonyx as her chest piece clattered to the ground, the stallion waving his stump in jest. His horn was glowing as he knelt down to the shorter mare to rest its tip against the visible swelling of her chest.

"One of the mages that managed to teleport some guys here saw him being taken prisoner with the wounded in the courtyard. We'll see him and the others again eventually. After the fight we gave those monsters, they'll need any help they can get patching themselves up."

"One can only hope. If we're lucky, lucky as you are, those beasts die on that mountain and our allies escape to us. Tell me, Miss Dough; I didn't expect anyone to stay once we arrived. None of you have departed for a more profitable venture even after our numerous...shortcomings. Is there something I'm missing? Or perhaps running from a constant stream of authorities is just exciting?" asked Sardonyx with a joking tone as he managed to charm the swelling into a small bruise. Setting to work on the ribs, he focused so much on sensing the fractures he hardly heard the mare speak.

"Some of us, Mister Sardonyx, might actually believe in your cause if that's so hard to comprehend. Fido took us in because we were the best, but we stayed together because we were all exiles. A coin is nice, but you promise us a future in a world of our making. No gods, no masters...I'm willing to do anything for that. Fido gave us freedom, sure, but we never had a future."

Blinking a bit, Sardonyx had to catch himself in his surprise or he might've snapped her ribs accidentally. Clearing his throat a bit he hobbled back and tapped his crutch against the ground, "There, I wouldn't recommend wearing armor unless you need to and I want you to report to me in the evening so I can check on the spell's process...I also need someone to keep an ear to the whispering in the camp now that Fido is...no long-"

"Dead, Mister Sardonyx. Fido is dead. He wouldn't beat around the bush with it, neither should you," said Golden as she removed her helmet with her hoof. Looking over her shoulder, she scanned the forest a final time before moving in front of Sardonyx. Gesturing back towards the camp, she continued;

"I think having an ear to chat off will be good for you, and in turn; good for all of us. If you don't mind escorting a wounded guard back to her tent, the forest is relatively clear, so I reckon I've earned a rest. I would've figured the wildlands would be more dangerous. I earned my first scraps clearing out parts of the Everfree for timber, what makes this forest so different?"

Walking alongside her along the narrow dirt path, Sardonyx couldn't help but smile as he replied; "There's hardly any magic here. Larger predators have trouble with their seventh sense, so they stay away. Plenty of game though, enough to feed a fief if you're smart about it. It’s a shame. There isn't enough sustenance for them."

"Them?" asked Golden with a twist of her snout.

"Our new allies of course...I'll explain later tonight if they don't come to us first. What sort of food did we recover, if you don't mind me asking?" prodded Sardonyx as they reached the edge of the encampment. Even if part of the plan had gone awry, its contingencies were at least falling into place. There were always other armies and other powers that could be used to cast off the chains they wore. That was the beauty of Equestria: so many things just seemed to fall through the cracks.

"Not much I'm afraid. Hardtack and 'gruel,' along with a bit of salted meat. Gonna reserve that for our feathered friends though, they need it more than we want it," said Golden as they passed two griffons, their talons raised in polite greeting. Craning his head back to eye them, Sardonyx found himself somewhat prideful. Prince Pontus' retainers had proven to be an invaluable boon to his efforts. He was also glad that they too decided to remain with him, even if their 'master' had fallen. He had been planning Potus' removal for some time anyway. The Black-Vogel had just sped things up.

"They're going to need it...did any word reach us from our allies in the East before the ritual?" asked Sardonyx, the Sultan had begun cracking down on any dissent after his little heist. Any word from them would be a sign of good news, but he couldn't imagine the horror the Janeighsarries had been inflicting.

'The Sultan is like a child throwing a tantrum, save for the fact when he is angered villages burn,' he thought to himself as they entered into the humble rows of canvas tents and shelters they had set up.

"None yet. I'll have one of the griffons start flying to Mooraco once they have their meal. It is...cold of me to say it, but Fido sent our first messenger out a week ago. It is unlikely he'd return so quickly. If he did, well..." said Golden as she trailed off. Her hoof rose to feel the dent in her armor before Sardonyx let a hoof rest on her shoulder.

"Very well...I only hope that he does not lose the letters from my mother. Imagine the embarrassment I'd have to endure at my hanging if the Sultan had access to anything she'd written! A lovely mare, but even now she coddles me as discreetly as possible. Faust forbid she finds out about my leg: she may as well start a revolution for us," said Sardonyx with a dry chuckle. For a moment he felt the hair on the back of his neck go stiff. If she did find out about the foreleg, she might turn Saddle Arabia into a desert twice over. He needed to free the people, not vaporize them.

"All great wizards have great teachers, don't they? We're fortunate...from what you've told us, she's sympathetic to your cause. I don't know much about Saddle Arabia if we're being honest. Having a former 'Sorcerer Supreme' on our side is a bit encouraging!" Replied Golden with a light laugh, the Mare blushing as Sardonyx withdrew his hoof that had been lingering on her shoulder. He didn't mean to remain longer than he should have. Hobbling around against his crutch as fast he could, he found himself stammering like a foal.

"W-well...yes, quite encouraging. Good for morale and s-support of the movement. Yes, right; I d-don't suppose one of these is your tent? I should let you go about your evening...t-thank you for the company. I still expect you to be examin-..I...come see me if your ribs hurt," sighed Sardonyx, currently the most wanted stallion in Saddle Arabia, Equestria, and the Griffon Empire before he hobbled away as fast as his legs could carry him.

He heard a laugh carried out in the air behind him as he fled; it was much kinder and gentler than he'd expect from such a sour end. It was light and full of joy as it finally reached him, "No, no Mister Sardonyx! Thank you! Don't tire yourself out too much, big morning ahead of us!"

Sardonyx was not one to regret decisions. Usually, that is.

He was now reconsidering some choice aspects of the few minutes as he slinked back to his tent to fall into his cot.

For starters, running was not his strong suit.

Secondly, he found himself regretting not speaking with Golden Dough longer. That stung the most at the moment, aside from the fact he might've torn a few stitches in his haste. She was right though. It was a big morning tomorrow. He found himself saying a quiet prayer as he hoped another bold plan wouldn't end in catastrophe.

No one had entered Changeling lands in decades.

They were disheveled, lanky, and filthy.

Twilight found herself thinking like Rarity. The 'humans' were soldiers of some kind, but even at their worst she always thought of soldiers as clean and proper. Shining had told her he always emphasized the 'grooming standard' among the ponies under his command. Even her brief journey with Luna's nightguard hadn't changed her opinion, the ships weren't exactly lavish, but even then the guards maintained themselves to the highest standard.

While Luna was moving with Miss Jackson to tend to the wounded, the leader of the 'Corps', Twilight had been left with Captain Dusk to explore the fort. They were, of course, tailed by two of the cadets at all times; but Luna had at least gotten them a chance to look around. It was a new opportunity to get a better look at the humans and learn about their species. The aged stallion trotting alongside her brought her a little comfort at least when a few humans shot her some dirty looks, probably not too keen on being ogled by her.

"Don't worry too much, Princess. They're just distrustful, from the way the Black-Vogel explained it they didn't exactly have the best introduction to Equus."

Turning her head to the Captain, she found herself quite close to correcting him. It was a massive understatement.

The bodies of their dead had only been half-buried by the time they'd finally entered the fort as the sun set. The bodies were in varying conditions, but the sight of each one made the hay churn in Twilight's stomach. She'd attended a funeral before, one of her first teachers at school had passed recently. Her friends had been there for her and supported her as she found herself choking up as they lowered the casket into the Royal Cemetery. It had been a very lovely ceremony, Celestia had delivered a beautiful eulogy, and Mrs. Chalkboard seemed as if she were just sleeping in her casket ready to pop up and drill the whole congregation in algebra.

She didn't have the luxury of that illusion anymore. They had paused in their tour to watch a group of cadets huddle around the grave of someone from their herd as blazing fires kept the darkness of night at bay. The Black-Vogel stood alongside one as she seemed to offer a sympathetic glance to the young man delivering a service of some kind to his friend. He had spoken a prayer in a foreign language that even the other cadets didn't understand. Others wearing plaid skirts played a somber tone on their shrill instruments as they began to shovel dirt into the grave. No attempt had been made to hide his friend's grievous wounds beyond his thick coat being turned to cover him like a blanket as they buried him with a makeshift wooden cross under the stars.

They lingered there for a while, just watching.There seemed to be dozens of other ceremonies happening at once, and the call of the 'bagpipes' still hung over their heads as they circled around the parapets as the night crept on. Each burst of somber music sent her heart a bit deeper into her stomach. Pausing against the wall, she offered a look towards Captain Dusk, "Is it always like this?"

"What is always like this, Princess?" asked the Captain as he settled beside her; his tan coat peeking out from beneath the black plates of his armor as graying hairs wrestled for control of his curly black mane underneath his helmet. The scarring around his face tugged at the crow's feet around his eyes as a frown grew on his features.

"I know what death is and I know that ponies die in battle. This? I don't know this, maybe I don't want to know this, but I have to know the truth of it. Is it always like this when the story ends? When the book stops and the heroes win?" asked Twilight as she turned her head back towards the courtyard and to their tailing guards. One of the taller humans offered her a hesitant wave of their hand as the other just spit onto the ground while providing her his middle finger in a hostile gesture.

"...Not always Princess. Sometimes it could be worse, other times it’s better," said Dusk as he paused to remove his helmet. Twilight noticed the stub of his ear flick against the cool breeze of the mountain as he turned his head up to watch the lights aboard the airships as they circled lazily overhead. The stallion had more experience than she had, but his vague answers infuriated her to no end. Scrunching up her snout a bit she sighed,

"How do you deal with it?"

"Slowly," he stated in another simple answer. Opening her mouth to speak again, she found herself at a loss for words. She had more questions, but his answer although cryptic, answered them. Staring at the Captain a bit more she shifted around on her hooves as the continuous blare of instruments came to a close. It'd been hours since they'd arrived, and now they'd finally finished.

"How will you deal with it, Princess?" asked Dusk from behind her, the stallion's questions causing her to jump a bit. He'd never spoken to her first. He'd always just spoken when he'd been spoken to.

"I-...I-I'm not sure..." She wasn't sure if she could write her feelings down about the bodies she'd seen to Celestia, bury herself in books until she forgot about it, or find comfort again in her friends. Suddenly, she found the Captain's annoying answer becoming all the more clear as her conscience began apologizing internally for plagiarism.

"I think...I'd deal with it slowly, one day at a time," Twilight said.

"Good answer Princess," said Captain Dusk with a short chuckle. The stallion cracked a smile for the first time since she'd met him as he turned away from the airships. Gesturing towards the figures of the human guards behind them in the faint light of torches along the parapet the Captain waved one over, "Could I borrow one of you for a moment? The Princess has some questions for you."

What was he doing? Why? They could watch them all plenty fine from here. Twilight arched her brow as she shook her wings a bit she canted her head towards him, "Captain Dusk..."

"Pardon my forwardness, but Princess Luna secured us permission to roam the fort to observe and learn about the humans. We've done an admirable job learning about their burial methods, but how they live is just as important as how they die," stated Captain Dusk as Twilight shot a brief look of betrayal at him. The two humans looked at each other for a moment, the taller friendly one who'd waved before shrugged his shoulders once before taking a step forward. The shorter one shot his hand up to halt his friend as he stepped forward instead, much to Twilight's dread. Taking a long swing from his canteen, he stepped closer to the nearest torch as the shadows were pushed away from him.

He was disheveled, lanky, and filthy, wearing a smile that rivaled a fox.

And he was also drinking a Magicka drought like it was water.

"Celestia! Stop that! Do you even realize what you're doing?!" squeaked out Twilight. The Captain chuckled lightly as if the human weren't intent on killing itself, instead of moving away from her to go speak with its friend. Waving a hoof madly at the stallion with a shocked look on her face, she couldn't formulate the words to describe the human's innate stupidity. Letting her horn glow, her aura wrapped around the canteen to yank it out of the human's hand much to his obvious displeasure.

"I was having a drink before a purple pony started to yell at me," deadpanned the dark-skinned human as his eyebrows arched down. Throwing up his hands, the man bowed his head sarcastically that twisted under Twilight's skin. "So why don't you enlighten me to my horrid offense, your highness."

"Y-you should be dying!" screamed out Twilight as she teleported behind the human in a flash. Prodding at him with her hooves before circling around him. There had to be something, anything wrong with him. Maybe an open wound was allowing the magic to siphon out? No, maybe humans had a hidden horn!

"Listen, Princess...I'm a not a light-weight and this stuff isn't exactly stro-"

"Show me your horn!" yelled Twilight as she had her magic grab the human's collar and pull him down to eye-level. Holding him a few inches from her face, she shook him a bit as she began her impromptu interrogation.

"My...what?"

"Your horn! The reason why you aren't melting into a pile of goo or discharging magic like crazy! You're chugging a Magicka potion! That's insanely dangerous!" said Twilight as she pulled him slightly under her, her forehead pressed against his as she desperately stared at his eyes. They were green, just green. They were a nice shade of green, but there wasn't anything dangerous about them: no glow, no power, no aura.

"My father always told me to never show my horn to a girl on the first date, so if you'd be so kind and..." said the human as he began to wiggle against her grip. Twilight felt her magic shudder, her hold wasn't particularly strong on the human; but she wasn't expecting her aura to fail her as he stood up to offer her a glare.

"Y-you...h-how you..." she said as she found herself stammering. It wasn't making any sense! They had told Princess Luna they were from a world without magic! How!?

The human wore a fox-like grin as he seemed to catch on. He reached slowly towards the canteen still floating in her aura as his hand reached out to pluck it from it before taking another swing, "I take it...I'm really, really not supposed to be able to do this?"

"...No, you're not...who are you?" asked Twilight as she flared her wings out as the human took the canteen from her, he was impossible! It should all be impossible!

"Sergeant Charlie Richard Byrd and stick with 'Byrd.' While I'm at it, gonna save us some time. I don't know how, I think it's pretty freakin' wizard, and I think you want to know more," said Byrd, slinging the canteen over his shoulder as he wore a cocky grin.

Lowering her head down with a sigh, Twilight conceded defeat to the human and nodded her head. Deciding that she had at least learned something about how humans lived. Magic might've been lost on them, but that doesn't mean it was lost to them.

His name was Byrd. He was disheveled, lanky, filthy, and wore an insufferable smile like a fox.

But Twilight had just found the first human to have a seventh sense.

"Saint Peter...sir, I should inform you that the Bible forgot to mention you're a giant horse with pretty hair...seems like a pretty big oversight," groaned out the cadet as she laid on her back.

She was the last one of Luna's patients for the night, the final human causality that she'd been able to stabilize. She'd been able to save all those she'd been brought before. To the credit of the corps' healers, they'd been able to stave off the deaths of many as long as they could before Luna and the airship's healers came. Commander Jackson was one of the most direct women she'd encountered in centuries, a stark contrast to the maddening lords millennia ago and the dithering nobles of today.

Luna almost felt she'd been ordered to treat the wounded if it wasn't for Jackson's fair-skinned assistant, Commander DuPont, explaining the dire need of help only she could provide. To even have a full 'parlay' Jackson requested, Luna would first have to treat the wounded their 'EMTs' had been struggling to save.

She had wondered what type of army didn't have their own surgeons or doctors.

But as she had worked alongside the EMTs and healers to save cadet after cadet, she realized they were indeed just that: cadets. They were quite different from the original Prench 'capdet' foals the Lord of Prance had taken from the nobles to train as royal officers centuries ago, but the idea was there. Perhaps now they were all soldiers after their experience, they were certainly all adults, but they were lost. They did at least have the foresight to recognize that.

Turning around she offered a nod to the ever-present Commander Jackson. Throughout her night, the group around them had changed. Dusk took the night guard back to the airships before escorting Twilight around the fort. DuPont, one of his subordinates, and Knight-Commander Asumahn had departed around midnight to bury one of their friends. The stern features of the human softened a bit as she bowed her head, "Princess you have my...sincerest gratitude."

"And I trust now, we are ready to begin a true parlay?" joked Luna lightly, even she could see the tired look on Jackson's features. The human offered her a shallow laugh and nodded her head as she began to move down the damp, narrow halls of the fort's keep. The gentle moans of the wounded fading away as they twisted their way past sleeping cadets and the occasional patrol before moving into a rather run down library so disorganized it'd give Twilight a heart-attack.

"We need to leave this mountain, we want Sardonyx, a place to stay, and a way home," declared Jackson as the door clicked shut behind them. She adjusted the red sash around the waist of her heavy overcoat before she moved to a small jug of water, pouring them each a glass before setting it onto the table.

Taking a long drink from her glass, Luna suddenly found herself wishing it was a nice wine of some kind, or perhaps even a harder liquor. The human's terms were simple, but she needed something in return. Meeting Jackson's glare, the Princess rose to her hooves as she began to speak slowly, "Your terms are simple. We will take you from this mountain and provide shelter for you. Sardonyx will see justice, and you will help us deliver it."

Pausing for a moment, Luna sampled the water once more disappointingly before setting an empty glass onto the table. Jackson stood at the other end of the table rather surprised as if she was expecting something more. Luna just arched her brow and waited before Jackson spoke, "No demands for us? Nothing?"

"You're offering your assistance in capturing a mad pony who is a threat to all of Equus so long as he still has the book that brought you here. I do not seek to control you or your people, Commander Jackson. The only condition I ask is that the Picatrix must be turned over to Equestrian hooves if it is recovered."

The Picatrix had to be destroyed, its power was impossible to deny. It turned Saddle Arabia into the wasteland it is and exterminated the Herons. It held other arcane rituals that in theory dwarfed the power even she could muster as Nightmare Moon. It could only be properly destroyed in Celestia and her's hooves. If the price for that guarantee was some land given to the humans and Sardonyx's head on their pikes, it was at least fair to her.

"...I see no reason to reject your offer, Princess Luna. I'll inform Commander DuPont and the others about our agreement immediately once we conclude this meeting," said Jackson as the human sill wore a look of surprise.

"Please, as long as we're behind closed doors you may just call me Luna. Our people are to be partners in this endeavor, why not allow ourselves to be friends too," replied Luna with a light chuckle. She circled around the table and extended her hoof out to Jackson. It was still a new gesture to her, but the common greeting seemed to be the most suitable. She'd noticed Applejack do it many times to various ponies during her visits to Ponyville.

"If that's the way we're rolling, I'm Elizabeth. When I'm feeling generous, my friends call me 'Liz...and I'm feeling quite generous after what you did for us, Luna. You saved our guys' lives in there," said Elizabeth as she wrapped her hand around Luna's hoof and shook it. Luna found herself glad the gesture wasn't lost on the human, but she found the sensation of the woman's fingers a bit odd, but not enough discomfort she couldn't hide behind a smile.

"Simple healing magic, I assure you. Tell me a bit about yourself, surely one does not become a 'Regimental Commander' by chance!"

Jackson, to her credit, was quite humble if not a bit awkward as the veil of professionalism was pulled away. She tilted her head down, and her curly mane shook a bit in its tail. Her voice cracked though when she began talking, "No...no I earned my spot as the Executive Commander. I did become the RCO by chance, no changing that."

"We were...unaware, our apologies," said Luna as she bit her tongue.

"You're fine, you didn't know," replied Jackson as she waved her hand dismissively, taking another sip from her water as she washed down whatever emotions were giving her pause.

"If you would like to talk about it, Elizabeth; we're quite familiar with loss."

"In time, sure. Right now, gotta get everyone off the mountain, get settled in, and get it all sorted out. Ammo, water, food: gotta figure that out too. So much to do before I can slow down, you know? Don't want to lose any more people because we decide to rush in like that again, rookie mistake," chuckled Elizabeth as she cupped the bottom of her chin. Luna's felt terrible as she watched her speak, it was as if she was looking through an old mirror. Elizabeth was convincing herself more than she was talking to Luna by now.

Moving towards the woman, Luna calmly let her wing rise to wrap around her shoulder as she hugged her from the side. Her uniform's wool bore a stale smell from the snow and dried sweat as it pressed against her fur. To her surprise, Jackson didn't struggle or lean away from the gesture. Instead, she turned her head a bit and leaned into Luna; "...is it always like this?"

Taking a deep breath, Luna nodded her head; "The burdens you must carry will always weigh heavily on your shoulders, but you are lucky Elizabeth. You came here with your brothers in arms, and they're quite capable too are they not? You mustn't try this struggle alone, your friends and comrades are here to assist you just as willingly as they will follow you."

Feeling her sigh against her neck, Jackson continued to lean against the princess as she spoke into her, "I...understand. Our Army teaches us to spread it out, the roles of leadership and all. When push comes to shove though it's just easier to try and control the whole situation all by yourself."

"An old friend once told me that you can 'steer a ship, but you can't do its rigging at the same time,'" said Luna as she tilted her eyes down to catch Jackson snorting with a very unladylike laugh.

"...your friend is right, though that must've been quite the hokey sailor!" barked out Jackson with another short series of laughs.

"A 'hokey' wizard actually, Star Swirl just had experience with sailing in his youth...but the sentiment is all the same," giggled Luna as she recalled the time the aged wizard had tried to take her and Tia fishing centuries ago. The excursion went well as it could: only half the lake had been drained, and plenty of fish had been blown out onto the land to be harvested.

Edging her way out of Luna's embrace as she calmed down, Elizabeth bowed her head a bit; "Thank you, Luna...I needed that more than I realized. How about I send a messenger over to DuPont and your captains and we can arrange a time for departure in the morning? We've 'steered' them plenty, and they'll handle...'our rigging' enough for you to tell me more about your wizard friend."

"That sounds lovely, Elizabeth. Though I will admit there's a charm to sea and sky captains, I don't believe I'd ever find a sailor handling my 'rigging' as it were," teased Luna as she moved to settled down in a chair across from the woman.

"Army beats Navy, that's for sure...this one time after a football game, a friend from my Army class and I went out to this little bar in town, and I got absolutely hammered. Then I just hammered harder him in return..."

"You need some help with that, Cantwell?" asked Aloisia as Cantwell hauled himself and a large cask up the narrow ramp to the airship's hull as the fresh morning wind whipped at him. There were other entryways he could've taken but, other companies had been assigned to loading the ship from them. They had extended walkways from the wall right to its deck, nearly half the battalion was currently loading the ship from the top. Command Company though was given the luxury of loading the lower cargo hold from below.

"No...no, I've got it. Just give me a bit of time here," Cantwell replied as he adjusted his grip on the barrel, resting it on his shoulder as he found himself looking down to the ground below. Aloisia continued to float beside him with an amused look on her features. He wasn't sure what genius designed the narrow ramp he found himself on, but he desperately wished for guardrails. The ground seemed to be miles under him as a bit of sweat raced down his back.

He felt the wind freeze a bead of sweat on his forehead as it knocked the cover off the top of his head. He wasn't sure why he'd even bothered with the hat, no one was in proper uniform. Everyone had removed their dyke straps and brass and were either moving around in their shirts, gray jackets, overcoats, or an odd combination of the three. As the cold pricked at his skin as he felt his knees shake a bit, Cantwell was regretting his decision to just remain in an undershirt and pants.

"What's the holdup? We've got to be loaded for liftoff in ten minutes!" barked out Byrd as he flapped his arms around as if he were trying to fly himself. Aloisia offered Cantwell and amused look before floating behind him to shout back at Byrd,

"Did you know Cantwell is afraid of heights?"

"What the shit? Cantwell, you're afraid of heights? You told me you were trying to be a helicopter pilot!" yelled Byrd as he handed a few bags of grain to another cadet who almost seemed to skip up one of the other narrow ramps effortlessly.

"I'd be strapped into something! You can't compare flying copters to this! It's dangerous up here!" Cantwell called out as he shot Aloisia the dirtiest glare he could muster as he inched up the ramp. They were over ten feet up! He could break his damn neck up here!

"You were on the frontlines of a battle yesterday and fought for its entirety. That was dangerous. This is just silly," laughed Aloisia as she circled around him.

"Again: different situation, can't compare the two!" yipped Cantwell as he stumbled a bit, catching himself from tripping off the ramp. Finally reaching the top after what seemed like a century, one of the ponies aboard the ship offered him a curious glance before Cantwell set the barrel down in front of him. Staring at the pony, he gave it a polite finger as he started to inch back down the ramp. He didn't like heights, wasn't his fault. Neither the pony nor anyone else had the right to judge.

"I'd prefer to make it off this rock sometime today, Cantwell!" chided Byrd with a laugh as he passed by Cantwell walking up up the narrow ramp carrying another cask, an insufferable smile earning another flip of the bird. Extending his arm out to accent the gesture, it made Cantwell feel good for a moment before he realized he was losing his balance. As his foot slipped from the ramp and he tumbled backward, he found himself contemplating his choice to walk up the ramp in the first place.

"Son of a bi-!" Cantwell screamed as he fell and fell and fell. He felt weightless for an eternity as he flailed his arms around, anything to slow his descent as he kept his eyes closed. He was determined the ground would be a surprise to him so that death would come quickly. Breathing heavily, he also decided that if he were to die, he should at least say the Shema one more time.

"Sh'ma Yisra'eil Adonai Eloh-..." rasped out Cantwell before something flicked him on his ear. He wasn't falling anymore, and the ground apparently had a very strong grip.

"A lovely prayer, Cantwell, but I don't believe you're going to die from a ten-foot drop...maybe bruise your ass, so you can thank me for saving you from that fate. Another cigarette would be suitable perhaps?" said Aloisia as she flicked his ear again with her talon, the griffon flapping her wings as she lowered him back down to the ground.

"I'd buy you a thousand cigarettes for that one...are handrails not a thing here either?" asked Cantwell as he pointed accusingly back towards the ramp. Wandering towards his cover laying in the snow, he brushed it off before fishing out two cigarettes from the dwindling pack. It'd been full when he got here, and now he was going through them like crazy. They calmed him down a lot, the nicotine helped with the stress.

"Anything with hands is usually able to fly here, and ponies don't lose their balance too often...nor are many afraid of heights," said Aloisia with a short laugh. Taking one of the smokes as Cantwell offered it out to her, she rose to her hind legs as he took out the lighter. Around them, voices began to holler out as the ramps on the ship were pulled back into its belly. Byrd strode up to them, tapping Cantwell on the shoulder just as he managed to light his cigarette.

"Com'on you two 'ought to know those things will ruin your lungs," said Byrd as he spit a bit of dip into the snow. The cadets shuffling along the tops of the walls cried out cheers as they began to board. They crossed along planks carrying stretchers and crates as the corps split themselves between three of the large Equestrian airships.

"Looks like it's time to go, Cantwell, Command Company is aboard the Eternal Night...not sure where you're going birdie, but I figure you're riding with us," Byrd said as he peeled away with the rest of the company, the cadets hurried along by the whipping of the cold wind.

Turning his head up towards Aloisia, Cantwell paused a bit as he took a short puff from his cigarette. She looked at him with an inquisitive look as her light gray feathers were rustled slightly by the air, her voice humming out before he could speak with an amused smile; "Yes, I'm staying with you...someone has to keep an eye on 'Sardonyx's Demons.' You won't mind the company, and I don't have to kick your ass for nearly killing me as long as you keep the tobacco coming. I trust that's acceptable, John?"

Blinking a bit as she used his first name, Cantwell coughed against the warm burn of the cigarette as he nodded his head, "Y-yeah that's fine. No problem there. I...I don't suppose you want to skip the line?"

Jabbing his thumb up towards the long line of cadets funneling onto the ships from the walls with an anxious look, Cantwell chuckled as he mimicked her flying with his arms. Aloisia caught on to his weak attempt at charades faster than he deserved, floating around him again the griffon wrapped under his arms and lifted him into the air with a quick swoop. Wiggling his legs a bit, Cantwell let out a short cry as he found himself nearly begging her, "Please don't drop me!"

Letting out a laugh, Aloisia dived a bit; scaring the life out of Cantwell as he let out another cry as they whirled up towards the ship, "Relax John! I've got you! This is just revenge for pointing a gun at me, now I get to scare you to death!" Aloisia cried out to him. The griffon's firm grasp on his shoulders was reassuring, but he found himself doubting if it was a good idea to let her have her fun before they finally reached the deck of the ship.

"Knight-Commander, I'm glad you've decided to accompany us," came a soft voice from above Cantwell as he found himself laying on his back, mostly just thankful to not be in the air anymore. Above him, one of the Equestrian Princesses was talking with Aloisia. It was the taller one, Luna. He'd heard how she saved a lot of the guys who were wounded, but he didn't want to think about how many of them would've died without her.

"Lugging around this idiot isn't the same as flying back to the High King's keep, going to need a bit more time before the ribs are ready for that kind of flight. In the meantime, someone has to be the Empire's representative in the hunt for our prey...if you don't object of course," said Aloisia as she bowed her head respectfully to Luna. Cantwell began to rise to his feet, mildly annoyed at being called an 'idiot,' but he didn't mind too much.

"Of course not, you shall be an honored guest! Once we arrive in Canterlot I'll provide you with lodgings at the castle, it's been far too long since we've had the pleasure of a Black-Vogel's company. I will have to insist you attend a dinner as my guest, once things calm down of course," said Luna with a bright smile, the Equestrian princess in a much better mood than when he first saw her staring down Jackson the other night. Brushing himself off, Cantwell adjusted his cover and gave a silent nod to Aloisia as she continued the polite conversation with the princess. Politics, although an interesting thing to observe, weren't his priority as he searched up and down the deck before finding DuPont standing beside Byrd at the front of the ship.

"You know, if someone were making a picture, this would be fricken' perfect. You got a serious look on and dramatically gazing out into the horizon, Lee. Cantwell! You're a bookish type, got a romantic notion to describe this moment for the ages?" teased Byrd as he offered Cantwell a wave as he approached the duo. DuPont looked over his shoulder and nodded at him as he stood beside him.

Aiming an annoyed glance at Byrd, intrigued on how the man beat him to the deck so fast, Cantwell delivered a choice few words that he learned from his grandfather, "Yeder eyzl hob lib tsu hern vi er aleyn hirzhet."

"No one speaks Jewish here, John...I'm thinking maybe you just complimented my eyes. What's your take, Lee? You've been quiet," asked Byrd as he turned to eye DuPont, a hand tapping his shoulder to make sure the man was still with them.

Turning his head down to Byrd, DuPont scratched at the back of his neck before he cleared his throat. His voice came to him quietly as pulled himself from his thoughts, "I'm fine, I was just speaking with Treptow in Band before we left. He said something, reminded me of that Brooke poem about those we lost..."

"If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven."

"Melodramatic isn't it?" stated Byrd with a chuckle as the ship's crews began to shout. The body of the hull shifted beneath them as they began to rise. The wood beneath Cantwell's feet moving as the airship began to lean forward, drifting before its propellers began to lazily turn as they plotted a course.

"It's fitting. Only a shame we didn't couldn't leave the stars and stripes for them," Cantwell found himself saying as he looked down to the fort. The neatly arranged graves were lined up in perfect rows, the brown mounds of dirt breaking out through the white sheet of snow.

"No, but we left behind part of Stonebridge," rumbled out DuPont with a small smile. Cantwell's eyes caught the flag of the Insitute raised atop the top of the keep's roof. The simple white cloth adorned with a sigil of Lady Virginia standing over a dead king, she declared the fate of tyrants and blessed the name of the school under her. A piece of black cloth flew from its top, the Institute's award for their battle at Bushong Farm during the Civil War centuries ago. Underneath that flew a red officer's sash.

Henry King's final award to the corps and in his honor, for the bravery and sacrifice of all their friends at New Stonebridge. They had decided to grant the Institue's banner one final honor before they left it in the hands of its capable guardians.

Watching the fort fade further and further away, Cantwell felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He still heard Marshal's screams, the whimpers of the wounded, and the crack of rifles; but it grew quieter as they rose above the clouds.

Softer.

And softer.

They never left him though, he carried them with him into the sky and the warmth of the sun.

Author's Note

Edited by
Shadowghostalex

Intermission One: Vesper Nova's Photography

Princess Luna,

As you requested I've been recording the new humans to debrief Princess Celestia later on. I will try to let the images and sketches speak for themselves, but I will provide context when needed. I am thankful once again for the chance to be the first to record standing images for these observations and even more grateful for Captain Dusk to allow me to bring my camera on this mission.

"The Midnight Guardian"

It was immediately after our first arrival, while Princess Luna was being led to treat the wounded I caught sight of a human cadet watching over his wounded ally. While you would later save this cadet, I thought it was important to capture the careful overwatch of their friend. I wasn't able to use my camera, so I had to improvise with a sketch. While I didn't have a chance to get their names, this is at least a physical interpretation that the humans understand friendship on some level.

"Off-Duty"

While we've discovered that we seem to share many things with humans, including language and according to Twilight Sparkle's reports magic, they are familiar with tea. While I'm sure this is excellent news for Princess Celestia, I should not their advert distrust when I took the picture most just avoided looking at me.

An addendum, they were not drinking tea. They had just found a stash of hard cider and tea cups. They are familiar with tea, but they wanted 'booze' after their ordeal. If you'd like me to see if this group would be willing to share, I can ask them for you later Princess.

"Outside the Wall"

I had requested to see the burial site of Sardonyx's forces once I heard they'd all died in the fighting. While the human's own burials and some of their practices had been recorded by Princess Twilight; I felt that it was important to see how they treated Sardonyx's dead. Upon my arrival to the burial site just outside the wall and deep within the brush, it was merely a large mound of dirt covering a single, large grave.

According to the humans who escorted me (pictured above, atop the grave) the practice is rarely done, but there is no denying that a mass grave was used to dispose of the fort's occupants. I'd recommend exhuming the bodies to deliver notice to any next of kin, even if they are criminals; they might have families.

Unfortunately, this discovery provides evidence that perhaps our new allies are not as heroic as they appear to be. The Knight-Commander's accounts of their bravery during their attack are put through a griffon's perception. What she saw as glorious might've been a slaughter.

"Captain David Brown and Lieutenant Cristopher Williams of Bravo Company"

I didn't know if it was needed of me to take a photo of them, but Miss Jackson requested that if I was to claim 'murder' because of their mass grave that I also must deliver 'motivation'. I'm not sure if she confirmed my suspicions indirectly, but I could see her logic. If I was to photograph (or at least attempt to) the Equus dead I should record that of the humans.

I asked the cadets that shadowed me their thoughts on my impromptu investigation and they gave surprisingly similar answers. The fight had become personal, their casualties had been their friends. Sardonyx's forces didn't intend on showing any mercy to 'Mister King', why should they?

In any case, their answer just painted the picture grayer. It's undeniable though, what they suffered and the deaths that occurred on the mountain were tragic.

"Fun and Games"

I took these the morning of the departure. With their friends at peace, their wounded stabilized, and the prospect of leaving the mountain becoming a reality; the mood of the humans was much brighter. This group engaged in a large-scale snowball fight for an hour before their officers had them resume their work. They were much more friendly and greeted us as allies instead of just glaring if one of us got too close, I even tossed a snowball or two back at them! A little kindness towards humans seems to go a long way, but I still urge hesitation.

After speaking with one 'Cathy Langhorne' (odd name), I was informed that humans did indeed have cameras as well. In fact, she was able to show me one of their 'phones' that has the smallest camera I've ever seen in it. It's nothing as bulky as we carry around and takes pictures in perfect color! She showed me pictures of her coltfriend boyfriend and her family for hours before her phone's battery 'died'. She didn't seem too upset at least, she was confident they'd figure out a way to 'recharge' them eventually and was just glad to share.

In short summary, we've come across very dangerous allies. I do not doubt your decision to assist them Princess, they are creatures capable of great care, sympathy, and friendship and they've endured a losses that many would snap under. I caution though that our empathy not get the best of us, while these humans have suffered they did away with those who caused them harm very brutally. They will be useful in helping us track down and deal with Sardonyx, but I'm worried what happens after they get their revenge. What they'd do next.

Very Respectfully,
Vesper Nova
A.B (After Banishment) 1005
First Night Guard Detachment

Author's Note

Edited by: Shadowghostalex

Chapter Seven: Essayons

"The humans arriving in Canterlot made waves across Equestria, but that's about it. The ponies were in awe, the humans were front-page news for weeks. The rest of the world though? There were far more interesting stories than a new species of refugees elsewhere: large-scale riots in Saddle Arabia over grain shortages, rebellious Griffon Princes fighting the High-King's Legion in skirmishes, magical creatures emerging in the Crystal Empire, and the continued disappearances of ponies along the border of the Changeling territories. Not to mention the Zebras didn't even engage in international politics anymore since the First Kingdom's crusade."

"No one outside of Equestria but the High-King and the Lord Protector of the Griffon Empire knew what had happened at New Stonebridge. The Knight-Commander had passed the word along to us at the embassy when she arrived, even marked the letter with the Black-Vogel's priority seal but...the Black-Vogels at this point were hardly respected within the Empire anymore. Just a place to post bastards and peasant 'knights' that couldn't be outright disowned."

"There were just more pressing issues elsewhere. As far as the High-King was concerned he didn't need to devote any more resources to Sardonyx, seeing as the stallion's army had been crushed and his ritual prevented. Let the ponies deal the final blow. The High-King had done enough to save face. It's not as if the Saddle Arabian could do any more harm to the Empire."

"History is full of misconceptions, isn't it?"

-A quote from Lord Fredrick Aquilia of Pointed Rock

CHAPTER SEVEN: ESSAYONS

Danny found himself missing the slow spinning blades of the engines. He missed the heat of exploring the boiler room with Dusty Stove. He missed hitting his head against every other low-hanging pipe as he mentally took apart as much as he could. He missed the feel of the oil on his hands, the dust in his hair, and steam against his skin. Danny had been in heaven.

Now, holding a rifle against an armored griffon, he found himself in hell as the crowd of his fellow cadets jeered and laughed.

Charging forward, he mustered a battle cry as he swung his sheathed bayonet in a wide arc, attempting to clock Aloisia in her beak before the bottom of her pommel bashed into his stomach. A short gasp rang out from the crowd; the pain was immediate as he dropped his rifle and keeled over. His opponent showed him no mercy as her talon wrapped around his neck, choking him enough for him to sputter out a few ragged breaths. He could still breathe, but not enough for him to scream out his concession as loud as he wanted to. He heard her apologize as her grip tightened, "Sorry, but you need to work on that form."

"Wha-" he tried rasping out in question before she interrupted him. Aloisia shifted her leg back as she pulled him down past her. Her elbow slammed the air out from behind him as he was shot into the deck of the ship. The planks stung as Danny, for all his strength, was tossed down like a sack of grain. Letting out a few curses and a choice set of colorful words, the ponies and cadets watching the sparring match dispersed as a few bits and cans of dip were traded discretely as bets were won and lost.

Thankfully, It was over.

Tasting copper on his tongue, a swelling pain prodded at his nose as Danny lifted himself up. A firm grip returned to his shoulder, but instead of pinning him back to the ground the griffon raised him to his feet. Her voice hummed out as she brushed off his overcoat, "I needed to make a point, and I had already bruised up most of Command Company making it. If you want to test something though, multiple experiments correct?"

"That's a very methodical way to describe kicking my ass," grumbled out Danny Treptow as he tilted his head back to stop his nosebleed from staining his only white shirt an ugly shade of red. It had already been stained plenty by sweat and oil, not getting any blood on it was just a personal preference and a matter of pride at this point. Tossing him a bit of cloth Sharron crossed behind him shaking her head in mild amusement.

"Today just isn't your day is it Danny-boy? Maybe 'Feathers' here 'ought to pick a fight with someone who's actually got experience?" Sharron teased as she arched her a brow at bit at Aloisia. Shifting in her armor, the griffon cocked her head to the side as she rolled her talon,

"Sergeant Frontiero, right? I don't think you'll do much better, though I will admit. The story I heard about the diamond dog and those drumsticks from Byrd was most impressive," replied Aloisia as she returned up to her hind legs standing over the shorter Sharron. The tuft of feathers on her head tied back into a loose ponytail as her damaged armor clicked against her movements as she sized up the cadet.

"Last three days you've been flying around ship to ship leading sparring sessions, weren't you wounded or something?" asked Sharron, Danny seemed to be the only one who noticed the slight twitch of Sharron's eyebrow when Aloisia mentioned the diamond dog.

"I am, but a sprained wing and a few cracked ribs aren't slowing me down at wiping the floor with your peers. Your ability to fight at a range is most impressive, but you're all stuck in 'parade outfits' with nearly decorative knives on the end of your rifles. You need skill, equipment, and uniforms. I can at least teach 'skill' to many as I can before we arrive in Canterlot," said Aloisia as she wore a sly grin.

"Think you taught your lesson plenty fine the first day when you threw your Delta-pal over your head into the other two opponents," said Danny as he tilted his head back down. The bleeding had tapered off as he remembered the rather comedic scene he'd watch from the deck of the Winged Victory as the Eternal Night had floated beside them. Aloisia's friend, Cantwell, had rushed forward immediately at the start of their match. Maybe he thought she'd go easy on him since way they'd been paling around or maybe he had a chance in beating her. She didn't show him any mercy, it was a quick fling over her shoulder, and the fight was over in seconds.

"Well...then my lessons are welcome are they not? You know you lack the proper equipment, but here I am graciously providing you with free lessons," chuckled Aloisia as she leaned against her sword, her brow arching back to Sharron who continued to fume silently at the griffon.

"How about I give you a free lesson too? I've got a plenty of experience with pugil sticks and six years of Jōdō..." grumbled Sharron as she walked towards where Danny's rifle fell to pick it up and rolled her neck out, trying her best to look threatening towards the griffon. Shrugging her pauldrons once, Aloisia nodded her head and waved her talon: she accepted the challenge.

"Jōdō? Sounds Neighponese..." rumbled out a stallion's voice as Dusty Stove wandered up behind Danny. The brown coated stallion was covered in black soot that seemed to blend into his mane's color as a small cloud of ash escaped from him every time he made a tiny movement. Danny thought his 'cutie mark,' a magic butt tattoo that every pony had, was a stove of some kind or a boiler. The soot was always so thick on Dusty that he could never tell for sure. Slipping a few bits into his saddle bag, likely gained from bets against Danny, the stallion offered him a small smile.

"Sort of...Sharron's mom is Vietnamese, but she grew up on Okinawa since her dad had been stationed there. Say Dusty, did you come up just to support me?" said Danny jokingly as he watched Sharron settle into a relaxed stance against the griffon who had begun to twirl the end of her sword in a threatening manner.

"I think support is a strong term. I'd prefer to say 'profit' from you. Plus, now I can pay you back for letting me fool around with that...'phone' of yours. Didn't mean to crack its screen and junk, you just gotta understand: hooves," replied Dusty with a quiet laugh. The stallion managing to offer him an apologetic shrug that Danny waved off.

Raking his hand through his hair, Danny wore a slight grin as he watched Sharron and Aloisia begin to circle each other. It wasn't Dusty's fault, well it was, but he couldn't blame him for being a bit curious. It's not like he was going to need his phone for a while anyway, "If we find an Apple store in Canterlot, I'll take you up on that offer."

"Don't think the Apple family has any property up there," deadpanned Dusty as the sarcasm skipped over his head.

"Right...well...no use in crying over spilled milk then," Danny said as he chuckled a bit. The ponies were a lot of things, but many of them could be quite literal. Or at least Dusty was, made him good to talk shop with about machines. Always lost him on the idioms though.

"I didn't spill your milk, Danny. I broke your phone," said Dusty as he pulled the cracked, smashed remains of Danny's phone from his saddlebag and held it out to him.

"I...nevermind," grumbled Danny as he turned his attention to focus back on the fight. Or at least lack thereof.

Aloisia and Sharron continued to circle each other waiting for one of them to make a mistake. Occasionally Aloisia would change her stance, raising her sword above her head or hanging it low by her waist. Sharron would respond by extending her rifle out more or switching the placement of her feet and forcing their circle to twist in another direction.

Aloisia almost looked like she was getting frustrated, the way her wrist turned holding the bottom of her sword was odd. Sharron didn't seem to notice it, the woman content to begin closing the gap between them. Her circular stalking shrunk the circle tighter and tighter as Aloisia's wrist began to twist and twitch as they drew closer.

"Not so easy against someone who knows what they're doing, is it?" goaded Sharron as she lunged forward, attempting to clip the griffon with the sheathed bayonet. It looked like she'd misjudged the distance as Aloisia skipped back, her wrist finally stopped twisting as her talon held tightly onto the bottom of her sword in a strange grip.

"I will admit, you know how to use a pointy-club better than your friends!" teased Aloisia as she dodged another lunge with an almost practiced ease. The griffon's stance opened as she continued to slide back. Sharron charged forward again, her stance switching to a low swing as she stabbed up towards the griffon. Twisting her blade down in a narrow circle, Aloisia slapped the bayonet away as she drove herself towards Sharron. The griffon's body roughly slamming itself into the cadet to knock her back before Aloisia retreated, raising her sword into a high-guard with an amused smirk.

"I've been trying to figure out your style for the last few minutes, but I think I've got it now..." hissed Sharron as she raised the rifle back up. She lunged at the griffon with a quick feint that was easily parried before a fluid side-step allowed her to slap the butt of her rifle against Aloisia's back. The griffon's armor let out a short 'thunk' as she walked through the blow, twisting around in time to catch Sharron's next attack with the flat of her sword and shuffle back on her feet.

"That was...Neighponese wasn't it? Too fluid to be Equestrian," questioned Aloisia as she paused, the griffon shifting her stance as the hand on the bottom of her pommel moved just a bit.

"Close enough," grunted Sharron in a huff. It didn't take a genius to see that she was getting annoyed. Sharron liked winning: a lot. Danny remembered the bruises he had from her during his brief time on the Institute's mixed martial arts team. She granted him no quarter when it came to sparring matches.

Sharron dashed forward again, determined to put Aloisia on the defense. Her swings and stabs, wild as they appeared, were fluid and controlled. Each swing led Sharron into another and another as she fell as a tidal wave against the griffon. Aloisia met her blow for blow though, her sword blocked or slowed any strike that got through into a light tap to her armor. Her talon remained tight around her pommel as the other gripped just below the hilt.

"I'm going to have to...give you a real fight..aren't I?" said Aloisia through heavy breaths, the griffon's remark eliciting a loud cry from Sharron. The griffon managed to raise her sword's hilt up to catch the rifle as Sharron brought it in a downward slash, breaking the flow. Twisting her sword around in a quick circle, Aloisia swung the 'tip' of the bayonet out of Sharron's defense. The talon on her pommel shooting out to land a quick strike on Sharron's forehead as the griffon dashed back once again, Danny noticed that the ornate pommel that had bashed into his stomach was now missing from the bottom of Aloisia's sword.

"You've been playing around...this whole time?" barked out Sharron, the woman twisting towards the griffon standing away from her.

"Maybe...doesn't that just piss you off?" replied Aloisia as she shifted back into an open stance. Dashing towards the griffon again, Sharron charged at her with a flurry of curses. Twisting her hips, the griffon held her longsword against her chest in one talon for a brief moment as she whipped something out of her free hand towards Sharron.

Danny had seen a deer in the headlights before, but even he would admit that it looked a lot less shocked than Sharron did. He watched his friend make a squeak that sounded like it came from a kitten as the thrown pommel slapped into her throat. Sharron stumbled into a fit of coughing and hacking before Aloisia stole the offensive lunging forward.

Aloisia stopped the tip of her sword just short of the welt swollen on Sharron's neck. Sharron turned her head up to stare at the coy smirk Aloisia wore and let out a low growl. For a moment Danny thought she'd be willing to impale herself on the sword just for a chance to slap the griffon one more time. The way Aloisia smiled she dared her to try.

Danny dashed towards the two of them waving his hands, his voice booming out as he pushed his much larger frame between the two; "That's it! It's done! Over, done, finished!"

While he might've not been much of a fighter, he made a pretty big meatshield. He didn't rival any football players regarding height or weight, but he was big enough to be a substantial barrier. As long as they didn't stab him first of course. Aloisia backed down first, lowering her sword with a silent nod and began to search the deck of the airship for her pommel.

Sharron stood up to offer Danny a flat stare before she dipped her head in surrender. Danny cleared his throat and jerked a thumb towards Aloisia, Sharron bent down to pick up the pommel by his feet and whispered, "...I hate you sometimes Treptow."

"But you'll thank me later. Besides, it was a good fight. Even if you didn't win," replied Danny with only some impatience. Poking his friend in her stomach, he nudged her towards the griffon and tapped Dusty on his head to pull him away.

"All good now?" asked the stallion as he cocked his head up, flicking out a bit of ash from his mane as he stepped back towards the hold with Danny. Danny nodded his head as he turned around to watch Sharron hand the pommel back to Aloisia. Sharron looked annoyed at first, but even if she didn't like losing; Sharron was able to forgive.

Aloisia looked rather pleased to have her pommel back too. Even seemed to have a devious grin as well. The way she was posed it seemed like she was eager to give Sharron some tips.

Feeling his stomach flip a bit as he trekked down into the engine room with Dusty, Danny suddenly realized he very much did not want to be the person Aloisia or Sharron fought next. Beneath the deck other cadets trailed behind stallions and mares in around hull. Most were fellow engineers of varying degrees intrigued by Equestrian technology or ordered to investigate it. Stonebridge was a lot of things: miserable, tough, and grueling, but it could make an engineer. Mechanical, Civil, or even Computer; didn't matter, there was a degree for it. There were even a few concentrations in aerospace and nuclear, but the Air Force was plenty fine to have him as a mechanical instead.

"Back to work then? Sure you won't bleed all over my baby?" teased Dusty as the heat of the boilers began to swell around them as he shoveled scoops of coal into his station. The burst of sparks slipped tiny flashes of bright light into the darkness of the hold. Danny nodded his head with a chuckle as he moved towards one of the crude steam pumps that operated the propellers. It was active, sure, but that just meant he couldn't take it fully apart.

Removing the panel from its side, he watched the simple patchwork of gears and belts move like clockwork. From what he'd learned the Equestrians had trains, steamships, and airships. From what he'd seen, they were very recent and somehow artistically crude inventions. It looked like in the interest of design; some sacrifices had been made for efficiency. He was by no means a mechanic, but an inner voice screamed at him that the internal components of an engine had no purpose being so...ornate.

"Dusty, this piece here...the spinny circle thing, near the...crank part. Why is it spinning?" asked Danny as he stepped back from the machine. The large wheel dominating part of the room spun in a hum as Dusty turned away from some series of gauges to offer Danny a little shrug.

"I explained the flywheel to you yesterday: pressure from the boiler pushes it, which in turns pushes the pistons, which pushes out the exhaust letting the cycle continue...which is why being a boilerpony is the most important job on the ship. At least that's what I was taught," finished Dusty with the stallion loading another batch of coal into the boiler.

"No...not the flywheel...this thing near all the gears and shit. It looks like someone painted a toy top like a candy cane and just slapped it on there," said Cantwell as he began to inquisitively poke at the part with the butt of a wrench laying on the ground.

"Boilerpony, Danny. You're an 'engineer' can't you figure it out?" grumbled out Dusty as he turned his snout back to his gauges. Danny wasn't sure what most of them meant, but he figured if they flicked into the red something bad would happen.

"I'm an engineering student. The way I learned and what tools I used to learn...well...concepts...are all I have over practical application right now. I know 'why' an engine works, I know the reasons behind it, but I don't know how to put it all together. Everything familiar is foreign too, all the proportions are just odd. That's why I need the best boilerpony in the world to give me a rundown of these things" said Danny as he poked a bit harder at the spinning top.

"That why you're paling around with me down here then? Instead of hanging our with your marefriend?" teased Dusty as he walked towards Danny. The pony took the wrench away from the cadet just before Danny decided to test his luck and try to stop the spinning top.

"Not my...'marefriend,' Dusty. Cadets don't date cadets," Danny said as he rose from his knees, disappointed that his fun had been interrupted.

"No, but you two act like you're married. Only known you for a few days but you two are close as can be without bumping ugly bits!" barked out Dusty with something that sounded like a borderline whinny.

"How about we talk about something else, alright? You had mentioned something about a 'brothel' in 'Stalliongrad' before I got called out to spar?" said Danny as he waved his hand, moving to sit beside a few pipes as he looked up towards his friend.

"Figured you'd want to hear the rest. So I'd taken her out for some hay, and then I thought I'd take her to the hay! Let me tell you, best twenty bits I'd ever spent!" roared out Dusty as the engines hummed around them. Leave it to dirty jokes to bridge the gap that different worlds and different species left, Danny found himself laughing along with Dusty as the story continued.

"You're rather bold being out here with such a small force," said the armored mare as she slipped into Sardonyx's tent. They left the rich forest bordering the Changeling territories a few days ago and were now braving the venture into a virtual wasteland. The closer and closer they got to where they suspected a Changeling hive was located, the less and less grew around them. The grass withered and died underneath their hooves as trees stood eternally bare as the earth itself warped into a jagged nightmare.

What the journey lacked in pleasant scenery it more than made up for in company, at least in Sardonyx's opinion. He'd grown closer to his allies in recent days, no longer content on isolating himself in his quarters to only emerge for meals and assignments. He walked among them when he got the chance, heard their stories, their hardships, and their reasons why they had chosen to stay. Some for profit, others for the cause, and plenty in between.

This had all been Golden Dough's doing, of course, the scarred mare's caring nature pushed him to open up more to his people throughout the course of their evening chats. He was their leader after all, even if they numbered just under a hundred or so, he should lead them. If he 'ruled' them he'd be no better than the Sultan.

The mare that stood in his tent, smiling at him the way Golden would and eyeing him in a way he somewhat wished she would, was not Golden though. She had the same light orange coat, deep amber eyes, fantastic white mane, and tiny splotches of discolored fur decorating her snout. If it wasn't for the Picatrix negating whatever had been blocking their magic users' connections to the seventh sense, he might've even fallen for the entire ruse. Whoever stood in his tent now didn't know that and practically emanated an artificial aura. With no other magic around her disguise just stood out like a sore thumb to him.

"I trust Miss Dough isn't harmed," rolled out Sardonyx with a tiny smirk, the stallion hobbling around on his crutch to face Golden's imposter. Making a big show of his horn's aura wrapping around the Picatrix, he raised it under his snout to look over the heronglyphs while at the same time eyeing the bemused look on "Golden's" face.

"Here I thought I was going to have a bit of fun before I took off my mask, I was planning on making a night off feasting on your little love life. Yes, Miss Dough is safe. I just lured her away using my charm and your handsome face. I must say, for a Saddle Arabian and a cripple you're quite fit! Wouldn't you be more suited in court than out here?" teased Golden as she circled around the narrow tent, trotting her way over to rest on Sardonyx's cot. The mare choosing to use her own, green-hued magic to peel away at her armor. It was a rather odd sight seeing Golden look at him with sparkling green eyes as she laid down bare in her coat, circumstances aside it might've been pleasant.

"My...temperament for the court is the reason why I'm out here, but I assume you know that already. Your hives have spies everywhere, I recall a time when the Sorcerer Supreme had to weed one out from the Sultan's herd of fresh concubines. In retrospect it was rather easy to tell, she was the only one who didn't cry afterward...I'm sure you know what happened next?" said Sardonyx as he flipped another page in the Picatrix. He hadn't translated this one yet but the mare, when she wasn't trying to seduce him, had her eyes locked on every little shift of the book in his grasp. If nothing it kept her on her hooves.

"I don't think it's worth beating around the bush anymore is it, Sardonyx? What happened next is you committed your first little act of high treason and hid my child from the Janeighsarries. Perhaps that's the reason why I haven't slaughtered your 'army' or locked them all away to harvest them for love? Or maybe it's because of that book in your aura? Or maybe it's because you being alive has all the other Queens and Kings looking over their shoulder for Sardonyx's revolutionaries instead changelings?" rambled out the mare in a sultry tone, the pony content to shift herself around in several indecent positions on his cot as if intent to give a full performance on flexibility.

"Your...child? Queen Chrysalis then? I'm flattered you've come to see me directly, but I would ask that you drop the disguise," finished Sardonyx as he snapped the Picatrix shut, content to see the changeling jump a bit in her current form. Sighing in defeat, her lewd display stopped as her body erupted in a brief flash of green fire to reveal the obsidian colored chitin and linear features of the larger Queen Chrysalis.

"I was enjoying nibbling on what the Picatrix would allow me to, you hid it well, but the emotion you feel for that mare is palpable. Is it lust, love, or merely just a distraction to you? I wasn't able to tell, and usually, my palette is so...sensitive...something is ruining all the fun," hissed out Chrysalis as she stood on her hole covered legs, tilting her jagged horn down as she stared Sardonyx in the eye.

"Like the reason why most magic doesn't work in your lands, my feelings shall remain a mystery. I trust you know why I'm here?" asked Sardonyx with pride swelling in his heart. Chrysalis was right, it was bold of him to come here. He would have to tread carefully though as he could not afford another enemy.

"To grovel for help I would imagine? Your little rebellion against the Sultan is making waves, surely you've noticed them or perhaps even caused them? Lesser griffon nobles banding together in coalitions against the High King, dissent spreading across the far edges of Saddle Arabia, and disapperances of noble ponies in Equestria? You've been causing quite a storm, yet no one is...what's your goal again? 'Free.' A rather Discordian belief if I do say so myself, but who am I to judge?" rolled out Chrysalis with a light laugh.

"Perhaps the only Queen who would survive my crusade. I have no quarrel with you Queen Chrysalis, you've only done what you needed to for your people to survive. You did not enslave them to serfdom as the Griffon Empire's princes do, you do not take their children as the Sultan does, and you do not control their wealth as the Equestrian nobles do. You're also an enemy of many nations, as am I," replied Sardonyx as his smile grew, the stallion feeling confident enough to use an old adage he heard from his mother. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, are they not?"

"Clever words for a pony...I cannot deny this truth. You're more beneficial to me alive and 'free' than as a snack. What is it you need the changelings for, Sardonyx?" asked Chrysalis as she relented herself to a nod of her head as any gloating laughter she had fell away.

"I need asylum in your territory, spies in the kingdoms, and passage to the Crystal Empire," replied Sardonyx, "Anything else can come at a later date if that's acceptable?"

"That sounds...reasonable, I will require something upfront before I dare let you play with my people as pawns in your game," clicked Chrysalis as the insectoid-like pony began to circle him as if sizing him up for a meal. "I'm sure you're aware of my...mostly successful attack on Canterlot, but our early expulsion roused some noble houses into a continued frenzy. For the last two years, they've been petitioning Princess Celestia to lead a retaliation into our lands, their own invasion. They're managed to finally secure a formal meeting with her during the Fall Ball at the Royal Castle in Canterlot."

"Wouldn't eliminating them there just give the Princess reason to come after you? Even if you framed my cause, if I were to be allied with you the Equestrians would come eventually. Or if you merely just used this as means to be rid of me, well, I can't allow that and danger would still come to you," deadpanned Sardonyx as he arched his brow.

"You are not going to remove them at the castle. My eyes and ears tell me that they will have a meeting before the event on their estate to go over the petition. Blue Blood Manor is well-guarded, but it's child's play compared to the spies we had to embed for the wedding, and with all the Royal Guards focused on security at the castle it is anyone will be able to stop you from...trimming out the weeds to speak," chimed out Chrysalis with an unnerving amount of enthusiasm.

"Carving off corrupt nobility has its merit, but I cannot say I'm eager to reveal ourselves so soon after the ritual...but such a soft target...let us try," Sardonyx said as he found his voice tapering away as the flap to his tent opened up again. The real Golden Dough practically bounced into the tent, wearing a broad smile.

"Sardonyx, you charmer you. Where'd you run off to with my armor! We hardly even started bef-" said Golden before she opened her eyes and came face to face with the scene before her. Taking a few moments to connect the dots as Chrysalis stared at her with a knowing grin and Sardonyx with a look of surprised curiosity, she cleared her throat. She turned a dark shade of red and straightened out her posture as if she were a royal guard to deliver a crisp salute,

"Mister Sardonyx, I should inform you that a changeling has infiltrated the camp and has been impersonating your appearance. I tried to stop them, but I was overwhelmed."

"The poor thing was, the moment I started speaking 'Prench' she lost all her discipline," teased Chrysalis with a dry chuckle as she trotted past Golden on her way out, "I'll have a drone deliver the details to you in the morning. Enjoy your evening, 'Mister Sardonyx' and I'm glad we've come to an accord."

Standing in silence for what seemed like hours as the changeling had left them, Sardonyx cleared his throat and eyed Golden with an amused smirk. She continued to bear a striking resemblance to a beet as she blushed, pointing towards her armor Sardonyx found himself laughing, "Prançais? Vraiment? Have you read Coltaire, a fascinating philosopher was he not?"

Logistics were the bane of DuPont's brief tenure as Executive Officer. While Jackson handled the big picture and steered the ship that was the 'Corps,' DuPont was made sure all the rigging was tied down properly. They had enough food for their trip, training was underway aboard the ships to improve melee combat, they weren't stranded on a mountain, and the wounded were on the road to recovery. The problems that had plagued them a few days ago were mostly resolved, but new problems kept cropping up.

Uniforms were deteriorating a lot faster than he had expected. None of their clothing had been designed for a fight, nor had it been intended for daily wear. It wasn't a pressing issue to be fair, but more and more COs were noticing how quickly everyone's overcoats were slowly disintegrating and how the cheap shoes they were starting to fall apart. On top of that, they had worn the same clothes for about a week through blood, sweat, and god knows what else. It was going to become a hygiene issue as time went on if he didn't figure out a way to put clean uniforms on their backs.

Time too plauged their only 'advantage,' the M-14 rifles they had with them. Whatever magic had brought them to Equestria, Princess Sparkle had tried offering a few theories that involved a lot of jargon that was lost on him, had virtually restored their M-14s as if they were fresh from the factory. Except, the M-14 wasn't exactly the most historically reliable weapon nor produced with high quality. Magic had restored them, however, it didn't perfect them. Finicky bolts, cheaply made parts, and limited ammunition almost forced their weapon back to its former status as a glorified parade club. Everyone was keeping it all very 'hush-hush,' but maintaining a poorly made weapon without any kits or spare parts had DuPont worried half of their weapons wouldn't survive another engagement.

The one bit of silver lining was that they were at least going to be able to bring a few things to the negotiating table beyond being the meatshields to deal with Sardonyx. Equestrian technology was crude, although it had a flamboyant flair, a lot of the amateur mechanics used to fixing up dad's old truck and a few of the STEM majors who did research with steam engines had compiled a fairly detailed report on 'pony tech' to Jackson. It read much like Princess Sparkle's explanation on magic, a lot of machine jargon that didn't make much sense beyond: 'It's basic, we can make it better.'

Even their bargaining chip was a drawback though. They had maybe a few dozen engineers who'd almost finished their degrees, but there was no way in hell that the corps had the combined knowledge to make a steam engine from scratch or make a single 7.62 bullet. They'd have to use skilled labor to put any theories they had to the test, and that meant using Equestrian labor and Equestrian factories. Not to mention having to necessarily create an entire weapon's industry from the ground up if they ever wanted to use semi-automatic weapons again. They'd also have to convince the Princess' to let them make the munitions, and weapons, in her backyard.

Jackson had negotiated with Princess Luna to give them shelter and some living space in exchange for letting the ponies have Sardonyx's book, but this was stretching it. Shelter meant a roof over their heads and maybe a farm or two for food. It didn't mean clothing nearly a thousand people, letting them hijack your factories, or producing weapons of destruction never even seen before. The Equestrians were either the most generous race in the universe or the Picatrix really was that dangerous. The former just seemed naive which made DuPont worry more about what they'd gotten into. If a country led by immortals was terrified by Sardonyx's book, what were a thousand kids with fancy uniforms supposed to do?

"You look perplexed, Commander," rang out the curious tone of Princess Luna as she settled beside the man as he rested against the edge of the ship. He'd been lost in his logistical brooding for so long he hadn't even noticed her approach or the fact he'd wandered onto the deck. Bobbing his head in a nod, DuPont scratched at the back of his neck.

"I was just...curious about Equestria's weather control? Are there natural rains? What're the environmental implications? The cost? The usefulness?" asked DuPont as he distracted himself. The clear skies and bright sunshine that stretched for miles above rolling hills and small villages was curious. He'd asked about it earlier and received an exceptionally detailed lecture from Twilight. They actually did control the weather somehow, even phrased in the most mind-numbing way possible it was impressive.

"Miss Jackson told me of your Institute's honor code, the laws you must hold yourselves too. I would like to remind you that you do not fit the role of the liar well," teased Luna as her magic held two small mugs. Offering one of the drinks to him, DuPont gladly took it with a bow of his head as he took a second to smell the drink.

It was coffee, or at least looked and smelled like it.

It was bitter, terrible, and watered-down.

'Thank Christ,' DuPont thought, it was coffee. Bad coffee.

God though, DuPont had missed the taste of bad coffee. Taking another long sip from the mug, not caring as it burned his tongue he let out a short laugh. His problems seemed to melt away as any anger, confusion, and frustration were turned to an incredibly shitty drink, "This is awful! Thank you!"

Arching her brow, Luna let out a soft laugh shaking her head slowly; "That might've been the first time I've ever heard someone thank me for something...awful."

DuPont turned away with an amused snort and returned to scanning the horizon. The calm wind occasionally glanced off his face as green farmland rolled on beneath them. Taking a sip from his coffee, he felt the awkward silence and possible diplomatic incident hanging over his head, "No it's...how do I put this? I...coffee is an acquired taste, right?"

"That is correct, Mister DuPont," said Luna keeping the incredulous arch in her brow.

"I grew up with bad coffee, Mom and Dad weren't able to afford the good stuff. The Institute only served terrible coffee too, it was cheap brown sludge. The Army somehow has worse coffee that you're lucky to have hot. Way it goes you need it for the caffeine, not for the taste. It's just...refreshing that there's some consistency of a sort. Doesn't matter what world I'm on or what madness I'm dealing with, I'm going to be drinking really shit coffee."

"Commander DuPont, I'm not sure I'm to be offended by your harsh words or warmed by them since they brought you a measure of peace. I'll take the latter as I press the prior issue. What is the 'madness' you are dealing with?" asked Luna as the air rolled around them. The airship lazily banked a bit to the left as it began to glide across a cloud. DuPont couldn't, or at least wouldn't, give her a straight answer but he could get some answers to other things that bugged him.

"You decided to help us. I'm sure you found the grave back on the mountain, at least one of your people did. Not our graves, theirs. Sardonyx's fokls It doesn't take a genius to realize what happened up there...and you're a god so I think you can connect the dots. Discarded weapons, bullet holes in the walls...snow stained red in one giant patch...you know we're not exactly saints. Might as well be monsters in retrospect," mumbled out DuPont as he took a sip from his coffee, "Not only that...but we're still going have negotiations? With what little we have to offer? It's asinine. It doesn't make sense."

"We've all done things we aren't proud of, we've all made mistakes...the Picatrix is truly dangerous enough to warrant such generosity and amnesty if that's what's confusing to you. I'm no 'saint' either but take it from a fellow monster, you're one of the few examples of one of the book's spells that have not resulted in immediate mass destruction. It brought you here instead of bringing a rain of fire or an army of dead spirits. In his pride I hope that Sardonyx has made his fatal mistake by bringing your people here," said Luna as the nursed her coffee casually as if she spoke of such issues daily.

"We're the..." snorting a bit into his coffee DuPont took a long breath as he scratched the back of his neck, "...we're the wild card. We weren't meant to be in this game, but now we're here."

"You've shaken up the chess board quite a bit. In a fit of anger, you knocked a few pawns off the board, but the game must go on. All the kings and queens are still standing," said Luna as she turned her head to stare past DuPont. Her eyes locked on a bit of cloud cover that was breaking around them as the wooden ship skirted through.

"...I will admit that chess isn't my strong-suit. If we're going to play a board game to decide the fate of our people why not a game of Uno? I can play a mean Uno," laughed DuPont as he took another sip of his drink. The bitter coffee punching him in the gut as he choked out a smile.

"I'm unfamiliar with the game, but I'm sure it is one of great skill and cunning," said Luna past the wind picking up around them. The clouds around them had grown thicker, and the ground beneath them had disappeared into a gray fog. A few wild blue streaks shot in and out of the mist every few seconds as the clouds became heavier.

"What's going on? Did we drift into a storm?" asked DuPont as he began to look over his shoulder. A growing panic in his stomach compounded as he watched the other cadets on deck notice the blue creatures in the clouds, the only thing that kept from calling an alarm was the Equestrians' composure. None of the ponies seemed the least bit worried about the clouds, one would look up every so often and wave a hoof before returning to whatever task was at hand.

"No, just Canterlot's morning fog. It's rather thick in the fall, and we have the Wonderbolts stationed there take it past the Southern Peak once it's collected to be used as rainwater later. It's a rather tedious job, but the masses love their sunrises and the Wonderbolts need the exercise," said Luna with a look of disappointment so faint that if he hadn't been staring at her on the brink of terror, DuPont wouldn't have noticed it.

He wasn't a genius or an immortal deity, but even he could connect some dots too. He'd always been taught that kind words could go a long way, and even with their generous hosts, the Corps needed all the friends it could get. Clearing his throat as he regained some of his composure, a hand scratched at the back of his neck; "I'm more night-sky person actually...dad took me up to the mountains a lot as a kid. Can't really afford to send me to summer camps it was the next best thing. He showed me the stars without all the light pollution from town. Don't know if you're responsible for only the stars here or the stars everywhere but...thank you? You're night personif-...ponified, so I figure if I'm going to thank anyone for those nights with my dad it's you."

The look on Princess Luna's face drifted between flattered, confused, suspicious, and grateful. There wasn't a dishonest word in the whole speech, but even DuPont would admit the timing of such a confession was dubious at best. Using her magic to take his empty coffee cup, which he had drained waiting for her reaction, Luna gave him a warm smile, "Flattery will take you far Mister DuPont, especially in Canterlot. I'd suggest preparing your force, we're going to be arriving shortly."

For the first time in a while though, DuPont wasn't too worried. For all their woes in equipment and diplomacy, he was still confident in the Corps' ability to look the part as it were. He'd passed along Jackson's orders the other night, using some pegasus as messengers or even to carry him to other ships to make sure companies were indeed cleaning up. Even if their bayonets were rather poor at stabbing anything, they were decent razors. Brass had been polished, uniforms cleaned to the best of their abilities, and haircuts given very carefully with the same bayonets; the Corps was ready to go on parade again.

Giving Luna a relaxed salute as he began to walk away, DuPont paused as a lookout from the crow's nest let out a bellowing cry, "Land, ho!"

Upon a great mountain architecture that defied physics carved itself into the stone. Marble and gold seemed to stretch across each building as large halls and estates wrapped around a towering castle that spilled into a magnificent city. Other airships floated into docks as railroads ran in and out of the city at almost clockwork speed. A squadron of blue streaks shot by them in a tight formation, the Wonderbolts rolling to the side saluting the returning vessels are they approached the port of the magical city. Other commercial ships that had been drifting towards the docks halted as their crews turned to offer their own respects to the returning Equestrian expedition. Curious pegasi hovered in clouds above them as they waved at the ships, their cheers faltered as they caught sight of the unknown creatures on the decks of the airships before they raced towards the city.

"They are heroes you know," said Jackson as she walked up the stairs from the lower decks, a steady flow of cadets moving behind her as everyone rushed on deck to catch sight of the seemingly legendary city. Even among the worried looks from ponies that were on adjacent ships and watching from the clouds, Luna had taken a position at the front of the ship waving her hoof as if to dispel any panic.

"Well they sure saved our asses, that's for sure," replied DuPont with a short chuckle. The Corps flooded the decks of each ship, careful not to obstruct any of the crew as they organized themselves into companies. Corporals completed final accountability checks as sergeants finished impromptu appearance inspections. Finally, Band let loose with a trill of trumpet calls: inspection complete, all accounted for.

"True, but imagine the fanfare they had when they left! Captain Dusk told me that the ships hadn't been deployed for nearly twenty years for any combat missions. Last time they'd actually been taken far out of port was when they got retrofitted with the new steam engines. They're going to get a victory parade just for coming back alive," said Jackson with a slight smirk. The woman's overcoat now wore the Regimental Commander's golden chevrons as she adjusted her officer's sash.

"I would imagine it was quite the party; maybe they even had balloons?" said DuPont as they lingered closer to the docks. Cries from instruments rang out from buildings encroaching around the docks as bands picked up peppy marching songs, the Wonderbolts flying another pass trailing a display of rainbow smoke.

"With all the color and pomp might've been a pride parade...or Mardi Gras..." replied Jackson with a broad smile. Even if the celebration wasn't meant for them, it was something! Ponies must've seen them by now, their ships were mooring against the wooden docks resting atop seemingly solid clouds. Royal Guards in bright golden armor similar to old Greek hoplites kept cheering crowds at bay while a path was carved deep into the city along a winding cobblestone road. Colorful banners of the Equestrian flag, the two princesses circling a sun and moon in a sea of stars, hung from windows and were waved in ponies hooves. Groups of ponies had already begun marching up the street, some wore uniforms that looked as if they were meant for Roman legionnaires. Others wore intricate redcoats and seemed in more in line with British grenadiers. For a nation that hadn't seen a major war in centuries, they had a flair for military fashion.

The ships roughly slapped into the docks, and the cheering only seemed to get louder. The Night Guard were the first to leave along with the ship's crews, Princess Twilight and Luna flew off ahead to the palace. The glory of their mission left to their guards, grunts, and sailors; maybe they didn't mean it like that, but Captain Dusk seemed to appreciate it. At the head of their loose columns with a smile, an expression that just seemed wrong on the scarred soldier, the Captain clapped his hooves onto the cobblestones in an irregular beat. The crews of the ships and the Night Guard shifted into step behind him, their voices rung out over the cry of the marching bands and crowds as they marched along. The crowds seemed to join them as they forgot the foreign army that hastily marched off the ships into formations. The city itself content to turn into a musical number instead.

DuPont thought as he marched up to the front of the column of cadets along with the other officers and colors, that it sounded as if some pony had strung together "God Save the Queen" and "O'Canada" into a fast-paced march about 'winter, friendship, and princesses.' DuPont looked towards Jackson before the two took ten steps ahead of the colors to post themselves before the Corps.

"Band is choosing the march, Key isn't passing up the chance to make a good first impression...he promised it wasn't going to be 'Dixie' at least," mumbled out DuPont as he clicked his heels together. It'd been a few minutes since the Night Guard had left and the ponies by the docks had grown quiet, the cheers falling away as they settled to an uneasy stare at the aliens on their docks.

"I would hope he'd know better," barked out Jackson with a snarl. Turning on her heel, DuPont followed her cue as they faced the Corps. In a voice that rang out over the silence of the crowd and the fading song of the Equestrians, Jackson roared like a lion:

"Corps! Attention...Forward...March!"

The air sucked into bagpipes with a whine as snares prattled off a march. The heavy thump of the bass drums joining a rising fire of brass before the pipes unleashed their call; DuPont stepping beside Jackson as they marched the Corps off down the streets of Canterlot as to a rendition of 'Shenandoah'.

It wasn't Dixie, but the Institute would be the Institute.

Twilight had nearly tackled Celestia when she landed at the castle balcony. In retrospect hugging her before an array of important dignitaries and diplomats wasn't the most mature option but Celestia had returned the embrace. Twilight still apologized in a manner that was fitting, bowing her head as far as she could before Celestia put a hoof on her shoulder.

"Twilight, please. There's no need to be sorry! I'm happy that you are well, both of you." Celestia turned her head at Luna as they shared a brief exchange ending with another hug. Twilight caught the mention of an 'agreement' of some kind as Luna broke the embrace but was quickly swamped with hoof-shakes from upper-crust ponies and nobles around the balcony circling them. It was a maddening chorus of congratulations.

"Good show whipping that rabble out of Equestria!"

"Let the masses have their heroes, I bet it was you and Princess Luna leading the charge!"

"Why I bet she drove those criminals to Tartus all by herself! Never send a stallion to do a Mare's job, that Captain Dusk should've resigned after that incident with the Griffon Empire."

"How many of those vile extremists did you kill?"

Twilight suddenly found herself wishing that she had the Night Guard with her, Captain Dusk's demeanor could've kept the whole lot of 'admirers' at bay with a single glare. Canterlot's upper-crust had always been snotty towards her, but when she became royalty they instead became downright unbearable. They were so ignorant, so arrogant, and complete kiss-ups! It was flattering at first, but she was surprised that their noses weren't completely brown by now! She wondered how mad Celestia would be if she threw the next snooty, fancy-pants noble that spoke to her right off the balcony!

"Miss Sparkle, I hope the ships were to your liking and performed admirably. I would be very disappointed if I'd given our brave forces anything but the best equipment," said a familiar voice as a distinct monocle and handsome mustache approached her.

"Mister Pants!" squeaked out Twilight with an embarrassed grin, Celestia would be furious if she tossed, Fancy Pants, one of the few sensible stallions in Canterlot over a balcony.

"Your ships performed marvelously, Mister Pants! Why you're certainly one of the many heroes of this day! We should discuss the possibility of even more ships," said Princess Luna as she trotted up beside Twilight. Offering a wink towards the stallion, Fancy Pants raised his voice in agreement with her.

"Of course Princess Luna! Why let us discuss publically many lucrative contracts and deals over here!"

Fancy Pants wasn't the most subtle stallion, but the horde of leeches dressed in stylish dresses and suits began to flood towards him. Tossing Twilight a knowing smile, perhaps he was really a hero today as he took the attention away from her. At the moment, it was much more valuable to swarm Fancy Pants and Luna than bother Princess Sparkle. She wasn't sure what the proper 'thanks' to give him later, she'd ask Rarity when she went to pick-up Spike back in Ponyville, maybe a book on engineering? No, the stallion who invented the steam engine wouldn't want another book on it.

"I read the reports the moment they arrived, it seems you've made some new friends," said Celestia as she trotted up beside Twilight, her wing wrapping around her as she led her to the balcony's edge. Below, the Royal Guard marched by in their different uniforms to the beat of Equestria's anthem. Twilight almost thought she was humming along before she realized it was Celestia that was keeping a quiet tune as the guardsponies and bands bellow canted by.

"I suppose so...they are an interesting people. They rely on technology and machines instead of magic, but they're magically sensitive too...in theory," said Twilight as she found herself coughing into her hoof. The memories of impromptu magic lessons with Byrd aboard the ships flashing back to her. He'd nearly burned the 'Eternal Night' down twice and when they moved to telekinesis Byrd accidentally threw Cantwell over the edge of the ship! Byrd had the ability, and perhaps the other cadets did too, but human magic was just too primal and unfocused. It needed a channeling and focus, but relying on magic energy alone seemed to put a strain on Byrd. Complex spells seemed to lessen the magical demand on Byrd's body but he was stubborn to move away from 'what was working.'

"You look troubled, Twilight. Is there something about these 'humans' I should know?" asked Celestia as her mentor caught the look of confusion on her face. Shaking her head as the voices of the city joined in a touching rendition of the 'Hearth's Warming Eve' song as the ship crews and Night Guard passed by, breaking away from the parade to peel into the castle courtyard.

"No princess! I was just thinking abo-" Twilight's voice fell away as an armored griffon glided towards the balcony. A few guards raising their spears before Luna waved them down and approached Aloisia with a smile. Celestia's mood seemed to darken as she caught sight of the Black Vogel, composing herself quickly as she canted her head in greeting.

"Knight-Commander Asumahn I assume? It's always an...honor to have a Black-Vogel in Canterlot as a friend," said Celestia, the princess standing tall over the griffon. Aloisia bowed her head, her helmet scrapping against the marble floor of the balcony.

"The treaty still holds, I may only this city as your friend," said Aloisia as she rose, the griffon drifting back from the princess towards the small delegation of griffon diplomats on the balcony. Raising her head towards Celestia curiously, Twilight cleared her throat a bit with a light laugh.

"The Knight-Commander can be a bit rowdy, but I've never seen her so...humbled, what did she meant by treaty?"

"It was something a long time ago. An old adage describeds it well enough, the Black-Vogels are no better friends, no worse enemies...forgive me Twilight, I'm loathed to forget the past sometimes. The last time the Griffon Empire had the Black-Vogels in Equestria was during their 'First Kingdom'...history has painted a glorious picture of them. Reality is often far more horrifying but, enough on that," said Celestia with a shake of her mane. The princess wearing a wide smile as the last of the ship crews passed by beneath them, forming up in the courtyard below to receive honors.

Moving to stand behind her sister, Luna spoke at a soft whisper that only Twilight was permitted to hear along with Celestia, "Now sister, before you ask, they're not...at the castle docks."

"What? Where are they? Lu-Lu you didn't..." hissed out Celestia, her smile straining as she offered regal waves to the crowd below. Twilight's brow arching at Princess Luna's nickname and at the apparent flaw in scheduling. Raising her own voice in a quiet question, she tilted her head to the side.

"Were the humans...not supposed to march in the welcoming parade?"

"They're what?!" croaked out Celestia as she seemed to choke on her tongue. Shooting daggers at Luna for a moment, Celestia shook her head discreetly as possible at Twilight, "No, they were supposed to wait on the ships...I didn't want to cause a panic. You know how our subjects can sometimes be with new creatures. It seems my sister might need a history lesson, perhaps our Black-Vogel friend could remind her of first contact with new nations gone wrong!"

"Trust me, Tia, these humans can control themselves in case anything goes wrong. Besides, from what I gather they're quite good at this," said Luna with a coy smirk that seemed to annoy Celestia to no end. As she turned her head up to reply a sharp cry hung out in the air as the songs of friendship and unity were swallowed whole by the heavy falls of bass drums. A gray mass marched in step up the street as their band beat out a slow tempo, the call of their bagpipes sounded as if they mourned a home long lost to them as they faded away into the noise of the brass instruments.

Twilight watched with a particular admiration. She'd seen her brother's parades and ceremonies with the Royal Guard, it was always very rigid and respectful. Everything had a ritual way about it. The guardsponies treated each action with a seeming reverence in every step. The humans though moved like machines, their feet striking the cobblestone below in sync as their arms swung in cadence. Each soldier a cog in the larger machine. Twilight couldn't help herself, she found her hooves clapping respectfully; it was quite a display! The cadets holding their rifles at near perfect angles and the careful placement of the 'American' flag to keep it higher than any other was an excellent touch. The planning and practice that'd have to go through the whole routine was incredible!

Fancy Pants was next, his hooves coming together in a polite clap followed by a frenzy of other nobles trying to clap louder than the other so they might be noticed by the stallion. Aloisia seemed to encourage them, the griffon delegation certainly seemed impressed by the whole affair as well, but when she whistled it seemed the entire city noticed. The ponies silent in the streets began to gradually clap, a soft cheer rising from them as they saw one of their princesses greet the visitors so warmly. Celestia and Luna seemed surprised but soon found themselves clapping along with Twilight as the parade rolled back into jubilation.

The cadets didn't appear to mind the attention either, Twilight could swear she could almost make out a smile from half of them. The cheers of the crowd still drowned under their instruments as they marched out of the street, the Royal Guards steering them towards the courtyard of the castle as the beat of the drum fell away as the gates shuddered closed behind them. A simple snare beat sounded off with each step, a frantic detachment of guards keeping the soldiers from marching into the garden. To their credit, Jackson and DuPont broke out of the formation and began splitting up the companies quickly down the multiple stone pathways making up the courtyard's center. Once they came to a halt, the drums fell away as they became rigid as the statues dotting the grounds around them.

"That was...impressive, I will grant you that Luna. Excellent work Twilight, if I didn't know any better I would say you two planned that," said Celestia as Twilight found herself blushing. It was flattering, she didn't mean to cause a scene, but the humans deserved some praise for that performance. Not to mention it seemed to ease everyone quite a bit!

"It just seemed the right thing to do," said Twilight, still fighting back a bit of a blush as she spread her wings, "Should we go down to greet them? If they stand like that any longer they might turn to stone."

"Shall we sister?" asked Luna.

"Let us try," replied Celestia with a short chuckle as she lifted herself off the balcony, the trio spiraling down to greet the guardsponies and cadets.