Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly

by Firesight

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Violence, Princess Celestia, Alternate Universe, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Thriller
Length: 423019

Before the Wonderbolts, there were the Bolt Knights. And before Rainbow Dash, there was Firefly. The story of Rainbow Dash's ancestor, the founding of the Wonderbolts, and the outbreak of the Great Pony/Gryphon War.

Three hundred years after Luna's banishment, an uneasy peace has collapsed and war erupts between the United Tribes of Equestria and the growing Gryphon Empire, who seek to supplant Princess Celestia as ruler of the heavens and claim the rich lands of the pony nation for their own. With the border defenses shattered, Canterlot endangered and the armed forces unable to stem the onslaught, who can stop the relentless Gryphon war machine as it overruns province after province, scoring victory after victory as it closes in on the Equestrian capital city?

In this time of peril, when the entire pony nation teeters on the brink of defeat, a champion will rise to lead the resistance to the gryphon invasion, becoming not just the commander of an elite force, but a symbol of Equestrian valor and fighting spirit. A born warrior and leader, the name of Firefly will be one day revered as not just the founder of the Wonderbolts, but as Equestria's greatest hero...

Taking place seven hundred years before present and canon to both the Gentlemanverse and Turnabout Storm novelization, this is the story of Rainbow Dash's ancestor, the founding of the Wonderbolts, and their role in the bloodiest conflict of Equestrian history. It is a multistory Magnum Opus consisting of several discrete stories, as described below:

Book 1: The War Begins

The Gryphon Empire invasion of Equestria launches at dawn with an all-out assault on the Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps border bases, accompanied by deep-strike raids against Cloudsdale and the Royal Guard training base of Fort Spur.

Will Princess Celestia unleash her enormous power to end the war quickly? Can Outpost Epsilon withstand the onslaught long enough for the much-maligned Royal Navy to reach them? And can the civilian populace of Cloudsdale resist a massive and determined air attack by the Imperial elite against its all-important weather factories and storm cloud production facilities?

Book 2: Rally and Recover

With the border defenses crushed and the remains of Outpost Epsilon evacuated, both sides lick their wounds, hastily reorganizing and preparing for the next Imperial offensive aimed deeper into Equestria.

Can missing Cloudsdale be located near the borders of Thestralslovakia? Will the once-disloyal and still-distrusted bat-ponies that live there side with Equestria or the Empire? What is the Imperial invasion plan? What role will the Changelings play in the conflict? And what will happen when a sixteen-year old gryphon cub faces off with the gryphon-hating pony named Thunderbolt; one of the most lethal and bloodthirsty beings to ever live...?

Book 3: Second Offensive

While the fate of Cloudsdale is negotiated and Firefly's forces prepare for additional action, the second Imperial offensive begins with an assault against the badly outnumbered Equestrian Army at Maresk two hundred miles inside Equestria, attempting to pocket and destroy the thousands of sorely-needed soldiers based there.

Can an out-of-favor earth pony Colonel rally his regiment to save the city and an entire Army Corps? Or will the city's soldiers and civilians alike face the fate of the border bases, becoming yet another crushing defeat in the Imperial drive on Canterlot?

Writers: Denim_Blue and Firesight with occassional writing assists from Leo Archon and AJ_Aficionado

Prereaders: AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, TheGoldCrow, Denim_Blue

Guest Writers: AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue

Maps of Equestria and Equis: https://www.fimfiction.net/chapter/1105220

Published 2017-09-01 19:30:06 UTC
Last updated 2022-06-21 01:02:34 UTC

The War Begins: 2 - First Blood

Greetings to all new and returning readers. If you belong to the latter, welcome back to this tale, which now crosses into the story of the Pony/Gryphon War itself. If you are one of the former, know that I normally open chapters with introductions such as this to clear my head and focus my thoughts on what I wish to write about.

Know also that perspective will occasionally shift to those of my friends and even former foes, as my story cannot be told without theirs. And last, but not least, know that although this is a sequel, I am attempting to write this story such that reading the previous volume is unnecessary. But ‘tis encouraged, as it tells the story of both me and my future Bolt Knight brethren; how we became the soldiers and warriors you see here now.

As I begin the second book of this series, I find myself quite contemplative, lost in memories of friends fallen and battles past. To be a soldier is to know sacrifice and loss, and no matter how much I came to revel in the rush of battle, I never lost sight of the fact that being a warrior meant death and killing.

‘Twas a constant effort to not cross the line from soldier to killer, to not lose myself in bloodlust and hatred as others did. Sometimes ‘twas easy, but at other times decidedly not as I saw my friends and allies fall, or worse, Equestria being steadily overrun and her fate teetering on the brink of defeat.

War is a harsh training ground; the most severe of instructors where the penalty for not knowing your foes or giving them proper respect is death. I daresay ‘twas a lesson that both sides had to learn at different points, and here as our war began in front of Outpost Epsilon, ‘twas the Empire’s turn to be humbled…

Though Prelate Gaius and his legions would also prove they could learn from their mistakes and adjust to our tactics all too quickly, to our equally great cost.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

The War Begins

Facing five hundred crossbows along with the rest of my two-hundred strong battalion was not how I envisioned fighting the gryphons.

And yet, here we were, looking down the wrong end of their sights as, by their Tribune’s orders, they were all triggered at once and their bolts let fly in a massive volley. Even with our speed and evasiveness, by sheer volume of arrows they could probably take out a quarter to a third of us in mere moments...

If we hadn’t already planned a strategy to counter massed fire, one the average Aerial Corps border base did not have available to them.

Let it be said here and now that gryphon soldiers are well-trained and good shots with their crossbows—far better than the average raider we faced in the past, methinks. But we were fully aware of this fact and also practiced evading them, and we had another means at our disposal to block them as magical shields flared into existence around us, projected by First Sergeant Still Way and our healer unicorn team watching from below—a prearranged tactic designed to let us take our enemy by surprise and the reason we were in close formation.

It worked as the bolts splintered hard against the barriers, and as they were using simple steel bolts designed to penetrate the light armor Corps soldiers normally wore instead of magic shields, not one reached us, though a couple of the bubbles projected by the less-powerful healers did visibly weaken from the sheer volume of hits.

But they held long enough. Once the volley was spent, the shields dropped as quickly as they were raised, and our retaliation was instant as we charged in two company-sized columns right for the middle of their diffuse formation, Fell Flight at the head of one and myself leading the other, trying to close the distance before the gryphon soldiers could reload or draw their swords after their failed strike.

Two crystal clicks meant ‘twas my choice of tactics to attack their center head-on in companies, enabling us to split their force and then fan outwards. ‘Twould allow us to drop dozens of Talons with our wingblades before they could recover from their mistaken strategy, one that showed very little respect for our speed or striking power. I saw the commander’s eyes go wide as she realized what was happening and tried to shout orders, but by then ‘twas far too late.

We covered the fifty yards separating us in less than two seconds, causing consternation as the Talons realized they’d been tricked and there was no time for a second volley. Several dropped their crossbows and went immediately for the swords strapped to their backs whilst the smarter ones dove hard for the deck, sensing that hovering in the air in the face of charging pegasi armed with wingblades and no comrades within twenty feet was suicide. Hovering in front of her formation as she was, the Sub-Tribune fell first to my blades as our two formations made contact, Fell Flight and I in the lead.

In swift succession I cut down not just the cohort commander, easily evading her panicked lunge, but two, three, then four more Talons with frightening ease. I dodged their swings and parries, catching the second before he could even draw and in another instance slicing right through a sword to decapitate an eagless who wore the insignia of a Decurion, cutting her scream short. Though certainly much better than raiders, they may as well have been moving in slow-motion for as much as they bothered me; after six months of Armored Guardspony basic and another half a year training with a Black Lance and blade expert like Swift Strike (who even then I still couldn’t best!), Talon regulars were nothing to me.

And as it turned out, ‘twas little different for Fell Flight, or even my rank-and-file as squad leaders dispatched their flights to engage individual gryphons four to one as per Equestrian Aerial Corps combat doctrine, slaying their opponents quickly with nary a casualty of their own to start. My thestral-eyed second concentrated her efforts on the higher-ranked gryphons and even bowled a couple over with a wind gust, wisely keeping our formations entangled as much as possible so our close-quarters advantage would be maximized and the flanking gryphons couldn’t use their crossbows again without endangering their own.

Irregular gryphon fighters like the raider groups we normally fought would have broken under such an onslaught as my forces dropped nearly fifty Talon soldiers in under twenty seconds. But to their credit, the gryphon warriors recovered quickly despite the loss of their commander and shock of our attack. Centurions out on the wings directed their units to close up and go in as tight formations of decades—their squad equivalent—in arrowhead formations of their own, blades bared in front with crossbows wielded on the wings, providing covering fire for the spearhead. ‘Twas a standard Talon tactic, making challenging them head-on a dangerous proposition.

But that in turn left them vulnerable to other tactics as, in response to another order shouted into my red gem, our weather platoon took advantage of their preoccupation with my main force to suddenly rise up from inside the base and open up on our adversaries, powerful lightning bolts lancing out from our stockpiled storm clouds. They targeted entire decades in flight and sometimes took half of them out at once, each strike killing several and scattering the rest.

Recognizing the new threat, another flanking centurion redirected his force to take out our six storm cloud teams, dispatching his hundred warriors to the ground below. ‘Twas normally the right tactic; the gryphon NCO clearly knew our weather platoon would be vulnerable due to lack of mobility in moving clouds around and having to keep them still to fire, but they quickly realized they were protected in other ways as a surprise strike of longbow arrows from First Sergeant Still Way and the six unicorns of our healer team met them; three volleys dropping fifteen gryphons on approach.

Their longbow fire was further augmented with thrown spears and the wrist-mounted crossbow bolts from our one earth pony soldier, another stallion Guardspony named Spear Sergeant Steelheart, who slew three of his own, one of his spears impaling the Centurion himself.

Still Way had trained the outpost’s unicorn healers well, and, being a veteran Guardspony whose gold armor marked him as having ascended to the ranks of Celestia’s personal bodyguards, he knew plenty of other magical tricks, firing off spells and curses to various effects. ‘Twas the first time I’d seen what a veteran Guardspony unicorn could truly accomplish, and ‘twas certainly impressive as his incantations caused confusion and disorientation in the attacking century’s ranks; a few Talons even turned their blades on their comrades before recovering their senses. This allowed Steelheart, the unicorns and our weather teams to concentrate their fire and decimate their ranks further, finally forcing them to break off the attack with the loss of nearly half of a century. Our weather platoon then turned their attention back on the main Talon body, picking off isolated soldiers one by one.

Their formations disrupted by our unexpected tactics and the surprise presence of unicorn support—Corps healers normally didn’t fight—caught between our wingblades, longbows and lightning bolts, the remaining gryphons did the only thing they could: they closed into melee range with my main body of troops in hopes their remaining numbers could tell and that close-quarters would preclude further ranged attacks.

‘Twas a desperate tactic, borne of their losses which by then were approaching a century and a half as Talon after Talon fell from the sky into the canyon below. Given our own losses of perchance a dozen soldiers, that still left them with nearly a two-to-one advantage in numbers, and they attempted to take advantage by going back to back, soldiers from different decades and centuries intermingling as they waged aerial battle with us. But in the end, after the eight months of the intensive Guardspony-style training I’d given my Aerial Corps battalion, we were just too good, too fast, and too much.

In truth, I needed to give few orders in the battle after the initial ones, as Fell Flight and my platoon leaders commanded quite effectively. Even Snow Squall impressed; he may have lacked our specialized training but not for skill or experience, as befit a stallion of his rank. For myself, I simply intervened where my soldiers seemed to be having some difficulty, making it a point to target a particularly skilled centurion and a few other higher-ranked NCOs, easily spotted by their additional armor and command chains. All fell to me quickly; their skill insufficient and armor ineffective against a Guardspony like myself and Guardspony-wielded wingblades. In the end, I had not endured six months of Armored Guardspony basic and the oft-brutal training of my stallion mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear, to be anything but the well-honed warrior I was, and it paid here as I suffered not so much as a graze to my armor during this course of this first battle.

I don’t know how many I slew, and in truth it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that after just two minutes of combat, the gryphons broke after suffering the loss of nearly half their force, fleeing back across the canyon with the ragged remains of their cohort and most of their NCOs and best soldiers dead. ‘Twas the sole surviving Optio that finally gave the order to retreat, leading the rearguard as we gave only partial chase.

Once they had fully withdrawn into Gryphon territory, we halted our pursuit and turned back to base. As we landed, Sergeant Blindside went to the healers to take stock of our casualties, our unicorn contingent having put down their longbows to tend to the wounded, levitating them up and into the infirmary for treatment. After a minute of conference with the head healer, she came back and saluted crisply. “The news is mostly good, ma’am. We have two ponies with minor injuries; they’ll be up and about in a bit. Eight have more serious injuries ranging from sword to crossbow wounds, and will likely not be able to fight for the near future.” She then took a breath, closing her visible eye in deep regret before opening it again. “Five dead, ma’am.”

I sighed and nodded slowly. While nowhere near as bad as it could have been, every pony lost was one less set of wingblades I’d have defending the base from the next attack. I was under no illusions that this defeat would dissuade the gryphons; they had made their declaration of war plain. And having learned some painful lessons here, ‘twas no doubt in my mind the next attack would address the first one’s weaknesses and be far more difficult to fight off.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” I returned her salute, noting she didn’t bear a single mark or wound of her own despite her bloodied blades. ‘Twas not surprising in the least—she’d overcome her lack of depth perception by developing an almost otherworldly awareness of her surroundings using her other senses to the point she could dodge arrows in flight with ease; even I had a hard time tagging her in training spars. “Don’t worry about compiling reports or any of your adjutant duties for now; I’ll deal with them. In the meantime, as per our rotation, keep your platoon on ready alert and police the grounds. If you find any wounded or hiding gryphons, bring them in. Methinks we might be able to use them as bargaining chips later.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” she gave me the standard Corps acknowledgement of orders as she saluted again, then flew off to direct her platoon as I considered my next move, knowing we had only won the opening battle, not the war itself.

Opening Round

As I scanned the battlefield contemplating our options, a surprising figure caught my eye, and I immediately flew over to meet the one gryphon we knew who was not an enemy. “Gavian? What are you doing outside?” I asked my adopted son, a young sky gryphon named Gavian Ravenoff who had defected from the Empire following a failed raid eight months earlier. “I told you to remain out of sight!” I scolded him gently, fearful of him being out in the open… even if he was being watched over by Epsilon’s resident Black Lance, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike, an unassuming and undercover sixteen-year veteran of the Aerial Corps’ Special Operations Battalion who had originally been assigned as a bodyguard to protect Gavian when he had first arrived.

That was nine months earlier, though methinks it seemed like a small eternity since then. Despite his slight stature and Trottingham airs, Swift Strike was a phenomenally fast and deadly warrior of shadow, skilled with blades of every size and type, including gryphon ones. Even for as long as he’d been training me in such arts, I still couldn’t best him, though I could at least now hold my own against him quite well. I had elected to keep him out of the battle for now to watch over Gavian and protect the healers as they did their work in the infirmary; he was lethal in close quarters and ‘twas the best place for him.

Gavian was startled by my voice, pausing from where he was picking up a Talon crossbow and quiver he’d taken off a fallen eagless, his green eyes widening as they fixed on me. He had a brief look like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, but then answered me directly. “My-my apologies, mother. ‘Tis just that, well… since the battle was over, I thought perchance I could obtain a crossbow, since you assigned me to guard the infirmary?” he offered with a bared neck and hopeful air that suggested he truly did wish to fight, my orders to stay hidden in the infirmary notwithstanding.

“‘Twas my idea, Ma’am,” Swift Strike spoke up. “I thought he could use some armor and a ranged weapon.”

“I see…” I blinked at his statement, and mentally kicked myself for not thinking of it first. But sixteen years of age, Gavian Ravenoff had been abandoned by his soldier parents at the age of five for being too small and weak, and in perchance an even worse sin for warrior-oriented gryphon society, for having apparent aptitude for art instead of combat. As an orphan myself, I could not fathom such treatment as he’d received, but in the end he’d been left to fend for himself, forced to steal and scavenge just to stay alive, eventually joining a raider group out of desperation and a simple desire to belong.

Fortunate not to be killed by us in the raid he’d taken part in, he had been taken prisoner instead and proven key to uncovering an Imperial plot to implant mind-control gems in our soldiers—ones that would cause them to turn on their own comrades and commanders when the time was right. Attempting to silence him, the Empire had sent Ravens—elite assassins of their intelligence service, the Office of Owls—after him in a raid that cost me six soldiers; it took the combined efforts of me and Swift Strike to defeat their force. For saving him, Gavian had thrown his lot in with us; his loyalty was not to the Empire who thought his life worthless but to the race who had spared him, accepted him, and even allowed him to finally develop his artistic talents.

Offered asylum and eventually granted Equestrian citizenship by Celestia herself for the vital information he had offered us, he had grown quite attached to me to the point he called me mother, though it took him risking his life in a duel with one of my own soldiers before I finally saw that my feelings towards him had grown surprisingly parental as well. An earnest and endearing lad who was eager to learn and who had surprisingly flourished under our care, he had taken to pony society quite readily over time, learning our language and had greatly enjoyed the tour of greater Equestria I had taken him on but weeks earlier…

Though at that moment it might as well have been a lifetime ago.

As he completely lacked all schooling, we’d been teaching him everything from reading to math, and he’d also been undergoing combat training with Swift Strike to ensure he could protect himself should the gryphons—or even my own disgruntled soldiers—threaten him. After eight months of practice and finally getting enough food, ‘twas no doubt in my mind that he couldfight; he’d gotten quite good with the sheathed scimitar on his back, which had formerly belonged to one of the Ravens sent to kill him. ‘Twas a good blade, one far better-made than the average Talon scimitar. And one now having a far more worthy owner.

In any event, I trusted him implicitly, and methinks he and Swift Strike were right—he could certainly use a ranged weapon, and as we hadn’t thought to teach him how to use a longbow, a purloined crossbow would work wonderfully in its place. Thus, I nodded in approval at him, even as I still hoped I could keep him out of combat, as I daresay any mother would their son.

“As you were. If you can find some armor that fits you, take it as well and use your art supplies to paint it light blue so you’re recognizable,” I instructed him, choosing that hue because ‘twas the color of the light Aerial Corps armor most of my soldiers wore. He certainly had enough paint to do the job; he’d turned half my stateroom into an art studio over time. “Be quick about it, though, we don’t know when they’ll be back. I don’t want you visible if they are,” I reminded him, worried he could be slain by accident by my own soldiers… or as a traitor by the Talons.

“I will obey,” he promised me, baring his throat in a now-familiar gryphon gesture of respect and supplication as he took the crossbow, divesting several corpses of their bolts before flying back with Swift Strike to my stateroom window. I watched him depart and then turned my attention back to my battalion, wondering how long before the next Talon attack and what it would involve. We’d caught this first force by surprise with our tactics and elite-level skill, but ‘twas certain the survivors would be reporting how we’d fought them. The gryphons weren’t foals—they had proven quite able to learn from their mistakes in the past; a second strike would doubtless address the first one’s weaknesses and be far more difficult to beat back.

‘Twas a chilling thought and like me, my senior officers were rather grim-faced, knowing that another attack was inevitable; ‘twas just a question of when. Some of my rank-and-file, however, seemed unduly cheery, believing our victory to be decisive. “Let’s break out the ale, fillies! Methinks we deserve a treat for our victory!” one of my squad leaders, Corporal Weiss Blitz, said to cheers as she high-hoofed her squadmates, pinwheeling her hooves in celebration.

I didn’t mind some initial celebration after winning our first battle, but this crossed the line. I expected Fell Flight was about to lay into the overconfident mare for thinking this was no different than pushing back a raider group, but somepony else was faster. “Victory?” Sergeant Blindside asked, her voice carrying across Epsilon’s courtyard, silencing some similar conversations that had cropped up. My one-eyed adjutant took off into a hover, making sure everypony could see her. “You call this a victory, Weiss? You think that bloodying one cohort is cause for celebration?” she called to her subordinate from above.

Her tone clearly indicated the correct answer was ‘no’, and several of Weiss’s privates quickly and wisely lost their cheer. However, the corporal herself seemed oblivious. “Why not, Sergeant? If that’s as bad as it gets and this is all the Talons can do, methinks this ‘war’ will be over quickly!”

Up until that point, I’d never known Blindside to threaten violence outside of a spar (excepting, perhaps, her encounter with her estranged sire, Captain Monsoon of the Corps’ 4th division). But I hadn’t named her my adjutant because she was slow-witted, or a platoon commander because she had no fighting spirit. Though generally slow to rile, I learned right then that she had as low a tolerance as Fell Flight or I did for obvious stupidity.

Sparing me the trouble, she flew right up to Weiss, and struck her hard enough to knock the other mare sideways, then hauled her up and threw her against a wall. “You foal! This is just the start! You heard their leader; this is just the very tip of the spear! Those were their regular forces, true, but they have far more elite units waiting in the wings! If these had been Knights or Magi, ‘tis certain we’d have lost far more than five ponies, guaranteed!”

“She’s right,” Master Sergeant Stormrunner spoke up next, his golden armor pristine but blades bloodied; methinks my fellow Guardspony had taken out nearly as many Talon soldiers as I did. “Heed my words and heed them well, soldiers of the Corps! We beat off one attack, but more will follow! Be under no illusions and do not drop your guard! One battle will not win this war!”

I appreciated his words. Along with Still Way and Steelheart, Stormrunner was one of three Celestial Guardspony stallions originally assigned to the base to protect Gavian; Celestia herself had given them to us right out of her personal guard as a visible sign of her favor to our young gryphon friend. Their presence had paid off quite well in training my troops and now directly in battle; they were all elite soldiers and I daresay had helped turn my entire battalion into them.

“Indeed,” I finally spoke up. “We won a battle, nothing more! ‘Tis but the first of many fights to come, so stand fast and stand ready, warriors of Outpost Epsilon!” Normally I would call them soldiers, but for all their training and superb performance this day, they had more than earned the higher title, one any pegasus would be honored to receive. “They will come again, and undoubtedly before this day is out. We must detect their approach early, so we remain on war alert and all soldiers must be ready to fly and fight at a moment’s notice! Master Sergeant!” I called to Fell Flight next, seeing her returning from pursuit.

She instantly flew up and landed before me, saluting crisply. She’d received one minor wound herself in the form of a grazing sword slash that left a red line on her side, but was ignoring it; methinks she’d received far worse in spars with me over the months I’d been training her. “Reporting, ma’am!” she told me in deep respect despite her larger size, a far cry from the open disdain she had first greeted me with so many months earlier. A respect I now returned, as she had proven herself a superb second and soldier, a six-year Corps veteran who had a lengthy list of accolades to her name, including the Corps’ highest award for bravery.

“Master Sergeant, I am heading to the watchtower to report the results of this action, then resting along with first platoon,” I informed her as I returned her salute, my adrenaline wearing off after having been up all night preparing the battalion for action. “I leave you in command for now, pending any instructions from headquarters. If none await, you will enforce our wartime patrol and sleep schedule, monitor communications and wake me at a moment’s notice if new orders arrive or the Gryphons threaten again!”

‘Aye-aye, ma’am!” she saluted again, then went off to bark orders. When on war alert with a peacetime-level force, the Outpost went on a four-shift, six-hour rotation where one platoon was to sleep whilst two others patrolled. In between patrol shifts, the fourth platoon was allowed to eat but remained in gear as a ready reserve and to guard the base along with our weather teams, which were difficult to use except in static defense.

‘Twas an indication of how badly we’d been caught off-guard that we’d had no chance to reinforce the border as per existing war plans. If so, I would have had upwards of six hundred Aerial Corps soldiers at my command, in theory enough to defend my base and carry out slashing counterattacks against invading forces in concert with the equally reinforced Equestrian Army. As it stood, with but four platoons plus a weather detachment at my disposal, holding our outpost and trying to inflict as high a price as possible on any attack was about all we could hope to do…

I could only pray it would be enough. As Fell Flight departed, I took flight for the base watchtower that overlooked the canyon, where our crystal communication array was located. ‘Twould be from here I would make my report to 5th Division Headquarters at Outpost Gamma, located nearly four hundred miles away overlooking the middle of the Equestrian/Gryphon border.

I could only hope to receive word back that the other border outposts were doing as well as we were, and that given the long odds we still faced, we might yet expect some relief. If nothing else, Princess Celestia had promised the Gryphons she would intervene personally should they resort to war, and she had more than proven to them at a past parley she possessed the power to lay their legions waste. That they had attacked anyway suggested they were no longer afraid of her, but why?

What power or allies could the Gryphons possibly possess that would match her…?

Methinks I knew the answer no more than you at that point, my noble Captain, but ‘tis certain we would learn it all too quickly, and to our great cost.

Greetings, my little ponies, and all readers of this tale. ‘Tis by my suggestion that Captain Firefly writes this account of the war, and ‘tis by hers in turn that I add my own annotations to it. She has stated that perspective will sometimes shift to friends and former enemies in the course of this story. In this case, it now passes to me. I will lend what wisdom and insights I can to this tale, but know for now that ‘tis forever to my great regret that I was unable to intervene and stop the war early.

—Princess Celestia

Divine Judgement

War Council Chambers
Canterlot Castle
September 1st, 1139 AC
1100 hours

“The news is not good, My Princess,” General Claymore, the service head of the Equestrian Army and ranking member of the hastily called war council, reported grimly. “To be blunt, methinks we stand on the precipice of disaster,” she added as I noticed our inexperienced scribe write down and erase the word several times as she recorded the minutes of the meeting, uncertain of the spelling.

‘Twas understandable as she was normally just an orderly. That she was there, called to duty she was not used to was unfortunate but unavoidable. She and all present were the lucky ones; survivors of a wave of assassinations and attacks that had swept the capital and hit civilian and military targets alike; our council was now being held under not just the watchful eyes of my Celestial Guard but of the Royal Guard’s Plainclothes Security Division, well-trained mares normally disguised as maids and attendants that doubled as bodyguards for royals and nobles.

To their credit, they had thwarted a score of assassination attempts that morning but could not be everywhere; we’d lost General Fairweather, the well-liked commander of the Equestrian Aerial Corps and her deputy, both slain in an emergency meeting by a unicorn maid who served them tea and then slashed their throats. Worse, the PSD had been forced to put down some of their own members who had likewise gone rogue under gryphon control, courtesy of more implanted mind control gems we’d nearly gone to war with the Empire over previously. We knew to scan our soldiers for them, but this time, they’d gone for civilians—scribes and orderlies, maids and aides that they knew could get close to high-ranking officials.

‘Twas a terrible oversight on our part, but we’d foreseen neither this tactic nor that the gryphons had somehow co-opted the Diamond Dogs into their plans. They had made this attack possible; in hindsight most of the controlled ponies had been kidnapped by them during their recent raids around Canterlot for the express purpose of implanting the gems. ‘Twas a brilliant strategy and had worked with devastating effectiveness; many dozens of important officials were dead, leaving us still tallying the losses and my remaining commanders struggling to reestablish a broken chain of command.

‘Twas one more atrocity the gryphons would have to answer for, my anger growing as I listened to the increasingly dire reports Claymore was giving. “Reports are still fragmentary, but the conclusion is unmistakeable, My Princess. The Empire has declared war, and we are facing a full-scale invasion along the entire length of our border by upwards of one hundred thousand gryphon soldiers,” the old but tough earth pony mare said, passing the formal war declaration Gamma had received to me.

I’d given it but a single disgusted read earlier that day. I’d been rousted at four in the morning by my pegasus High Chancellor, North Star, who told me that evidence of a gryphon plot had been uncovered—invasion plans and an earlier draft of the war declaration had been smuggled out of gryphon territory by a very unlikely spy, taken to Outpost Epsilon and from there rushed to Outpost Gamma and Canterlot. Recognizing the danger, we tried to get a warning out to our frontier forces in time, but realizing their plans had been exposed and fearing what loss of surprise might mean, the gryphons had chosen to invade immediately with what they had...

I could only hope that the fact they were striking a full two months earlier than the stolen plans had stated meant they did not have their full force available, for the numbers we faced were bad enough. “We know not their full strength or strategy, My Princess. All we do know at this moment is that our troops are in disarray and our frontier defenses are faltering badly,” Claymore went on. “Almost every Army and Aerial Corps border base has been struck by overwhelming numbers of Talon soldiers, and as several have fallen silent, we fear they have fallen outright. In addition, Baltimare and Fillydelphia have been hit hard by raider groups; the civilian and naval shipyards there were struck at dawn. Civilian casualties are heavy, and we have lost at least two naval airships and dozens of sea vessels as well as the docks themselves.”

“I have lost contact with my battle group at Orion Base in Baltimare, My Princess. Even if some survive, I fear the ships cannot be salvaged given how quickly the city is likely to be overrun,” Admiral Coral Torch of the Royal Navy added, to which I nodded solemnly. In truth, I did not consider that too grave a loss. The Navy had once been my sister’s service and as powerful as my Royal Guard, but after siding with Nightmare Moon against me in the Celestial War, it had been mostly disbanded, reduced to a ceremonial force of twelve airships I only kept around out of love for Luna.

I had resisted all attempts to rebuild it for fear of how it would look to our not-always-trusting neighbors. ‘Twas foalish in hindsight, but seemed sensible at the time given the Navy had once been the offensive arm of the Equestrian military, a means of projecting power throughout the continent and beyond. “But that base was… not one of my more ready groups. Even if they received warning in time, I fear they were far from ready to fight. Be assured my remaining forces will be readied for battle as swiftly as possible. But I have not been able to contact our base at Stalliongrad…” she sounded troubled.

“Nor have I. Our communications into the city have been cut,” Claymore confirmed. “Some kind of magical interference we are not yet able to identify. We also have no contact with Cloudsdale or Fort Spur...”

I frowned at that. Stalliongrad was a sizable northern city with large army and navy bases, home to not just an entire Army division but our one heavy-weapons equipped regiment, and possibly our best Naval battle group as well. ‘Twas a proving grounds for new tactics and weaponry for all services, making it an attractive target. But ‘twas also over twelve hundred miles from the border and, though possibly in range of the best sky gryphon soldiers… ‘twould be foalish to strike there in daylight without complete surprise. Lacking it, the base would be much more alert and pegasus troops from the Aerial Corps’ 4th Division, which covered our northern frontier, would be able to intercept. But Fort Spur, our Royal Guard training base, was only five hundred miles from the southern border, well within effective flying range… as was Cloudsdale, currently located about six hundred miles from the frontier as it took its slow seasonal journey through Equestria.

As we had contact with other bases and cities, why were our communications blocked to these specific locations? Unless… “They have been targeted for attack. Methinks the gryphons are attempting to cripple our storm cloud production and ability to train new troops,” I realized instantly, my eyes closing tightly for a moment. “Reestablish communications with all due haste. Order Fort Spur to full alert and Cloudsdale to immediately withdraw westward with all possible speed. Dispatch pegasus runners if there is no other way to pass word, and order a brigade from the 1st Division to Cloudsdale’s defense immediately,” I ordered them, referring to the Aerial Corps force that guarded central Equestria and Canterlot. I might have teleported there myself, but to do so over such an enormous distance would tax even my power…

Power I was shortly going to need. “It will be done,” Claymore bowed to me, then hesitated. “My Princess… the picture is still not clear, but given our apparent disparity in numbers, methinks it unlikely we can stop them until they are at least halfway to Canterlot. Our forces are reeling and I fear the worst is yet to come. What I now ask I would not request of you except in the most dire of circumstances, but…” the rest went unsaid as she then bowed low along with everypony else in the room. ‘Twas clear enough to me what she was asking, and ‘twas increasingly unavoidable as my forces faltered and the scope of gryphon operation became clear. Many had already died; how many more would fall if I did not intervene quickly?

“I warned them…” I said more to myself than to them, remembering a parley I’d attended on the frontier the previous winter following a series of failed but bloody raids on Outpost Epsilon, and the discovery of an invasion plot involving the mind control gems. I had laid down the law with them then, threatening them with annihilation by superstorms and my own alicorn aura. I’d even demonstrated the extent of my power, proving their armies had no chance against me, and yet still they had struck.

“My Princess…?” High Chancellor North Star prompted, no doubt worried by the look in my eyes as the rest of my council fell silent, sensing my dark mood.

“I warned them what I would do…” I said quietly again, then with a flare of my horn, called my ancient battle armor to me using a retrieval spell only I could cast, materializing it right on my body, instantly transforming my appearance from peaceful princess to an increasingly vengeful goddess of war. I had told the Gryphon commander, now-Prelate Salvio Gaius, that if he started a war, I would finish it. ‘Twas now time to keep that promise and stop this conflict in its tracks before more of my precious ponies fell.

With that, I turned back to my military commanders. “See to our security and get communications reestablished. See also to our defense but try to limit engagement until I have… made my displeasure known. This war will be over by nightfall,” I promised them, allowing my eyes to glow golden and my mane and tail to turn to sun-fed flames, letting them see the power I so rarely set loose. “I shall deal with the invasion personally, and do not expect me to return before tomorrow night. For after I have dealt with their legions and slain their treacherous Prelate, methinks I shall honor their Empress by paying her a very personal visit in Mosclaw...”

Author's Note

Well, that’s that! Celestia will end the war. Thank you for reading... :twilightsmile:

No, it’s not going to be quite that simple, Celly. They’ve planned and planned well for you. What have they done and how do you stop an angry Alicorn? The answer will come soon.

I’d like to give a shout out here to my co-writing partner in crime, Leo Archon, and prereading cadre of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, Denim_Blue, TheGoldCrow, and ClaytonTheHunter for all the time and effort they spent going over these chapters with me. Couldn’t ask for a better production crew, folks! And as several of these fine folks are accomplished authors in their own right, expect guest chapters.

The War Begins: 3 - Gryphon Empire War Declaration

To the nation of Equestria, its ruler and her subjects:

By the grace of our ancestors,
By the skill of our warriors,
By the strength of our race,
And by the will of our exalted Empress,

The Gryphon Empire announces its intention to invade the Dominion of Equestria and depose the Alicorn Princess Celestia. We do so not just for our own sakes, but for all nations and races who fear her unchecked power and suffer under centuries of pony selfishness and neglect.

To this great and noble purpose, we summon the full military might of our Empire to the field of battle, and call upon all our soldiers and subjects to make the utmost effort in attainment of our honorable aims. It is to our great regret that we must resort to such a severe course of action, but we can tolerate the intolerable no more.

For those who may doubt the justness of our cause, we offer our reasons here. Know our grievances with Equestria are too numerous to list, but include the following:

They have stockpiled massive quantities of storm clouds and threatened to unleash them upon us in the form of devastating superstorms that would not discriminate between soldier or civilian, military base or simple village.

They have starved our farms of rain and moisture by blocking normal weather patterns, forcing our settlers to eke out their existence from artificial deserts, in turn callously starving our cubs in an effort to force us from our colonies.

They are ruled by a pony princess who controls the very sun, moon and stars at her whim, a member of an unstable alicorn race whose own sister once went insane. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and should she succumb to such insanity herself, the entire world may be lost.

They have oft treated both their own kind and neighboring races poorly, oppressing all from the Buffalo of their southwestern badlands to their own bat-pony brethren, hating them for simply not sharing their herbivorous diet.

They have had a history of aggressive conduct and wars of conquest, ranging from the depredations of the Crystal Empire to the atrocities of the Overmare.

They have hoarded the vast mineral and magical wealth of their nation and refused to trade or share it with others, not even fellow Equines like the Zebras or Saddle Arabians.

They have engaged in very disproportionate responses to minor border disputes, to the point of invading Gryphon lands and inflicting far more death and damage than they suffer.

They have proven themselves treacherous in dealings, subverting our soldiers and commanders when they can, all too quickly willing to resort to raids and assassinations instead of duels or diplomacy when they cannot.

They are unworthy of the power they possess, built on the backs of other races and nations, taking far more from them than they give back.

For these reasons, for the safety of our Empire, for the sake of our descendants and for the survival of all life in this world, we will risk all in what is not a war of aggression, but an effort to ensure our existence as a species. An effort we undertake on behalf of all races of the world, as none would doubt that we are the only ones who can overthrow the Equestrian despotism. To that end:

We call upon our soldiers to stand fast and strike hard in the face of unnatural magics and pony weather control.

We call upon our allies to answer our call for aid and to join our noble cause.

We call upon all races of the world to support our campaign to rid the very skies of the Celestial tyranny and restore the world to balance.

We call upon Equestrian soldiers to come to their senses and surrender, renouncing their service to a dishonorable cause and leader.

We call upon Equestrian subjects to see the unnatural state of affairs they toil under and willingly submit themselves to Imperial rule.

And above all else, we call upon the spirits of our Ancestors to guide and protect us in our appointed task.

To Princess Celestia—if you are any part of the just and noble ruler you claim, we call upon you to lay down your power in place of the lives of your ponies; to surrender your throne and spare your subjects the agony of invasion and overthrow. Do so and our occupation will be gentle; on our warrior honor, we will treat your ponies well.

Resist, and we will use all means necessary to impose our will and crush your cities and armies. Know we do not wish to enslave Equestria, only to end its oppression of others and bring about peace and prosperity for all. How costly an affair that becomes for your corrupt and decadent nation is up to you.

Destiny is upon us. We will not falter. And we will not fail.

In the name of our hallowed ancestors,
In the name of our noble race,
In the name of our just cause,
In the name of our immortal Empress,

The Gryphon Empire declares war on the Dominion of Equestria.

Author's Note

Welcome to the end of the initial release! And I hope your appetites are whetted for more...

The thing about this war declaration is, as unfair and outright misleading as most of it might be, most of their grievances do have at least some grain of truth in them, as the Gryphons truly do feel threatened by Celestia. They consider this war less an attempt at conquest than an existential struggle against a nation and ruler that might turn on them at any time. Celestia showed them her power in the previous book, as returning readers know, and they were scared half out of their wits by her. They consider her the gravest of threats, one that must be dealt with or their very survival is at stake. No matter what else they may say, in the end, they’re acting out of fear for their future.

Celestia will respond to this declaration with her own war proclamation in due course, but first... well. The next chapter will tell that part of the tale, but suffice it to say for now... something from Celly’s past is about to return to haunt not just her, but all Equestria.

The War Begins: 4 - A Plan Revealed

Believe me when I say we all very much wish you were able to intervene and stop the war early, My Princess, as it would have ended things quickly with far fewer deaths on both sides, sparing us all the agony of invasion the war declaration spoke of. But as you say, the gryphons had planned well, and not one of us could have foreseen the lengths they went to and alliances they made to ensure you could not intervene. ‘Twas a strategy as brutal as it was brilliant, and to Prelate Salvio Gaius goes all the credit… and blame.

But out at Epsilon, we knew none of what was happening back at Canterlot as the war began. We had our own battles to fight, and methinks my only concern then was saving my battalion and inflicting as many casualties as possible on our enemies, finding a way to counter the next attack that ‘twas all too certain to come.

Before I begin the next chapter of this tale, however, there is something I wish to say. You suggested previously you were of no help in this conflict, My Princess. I must beg to differ. You were a symbol of strength and pride, and we fought for you as much as anything else. You were indeed an inspiration to us all and methinks your strategic insights and battle feats will never be forgotten for as long as Equestria lives.

—Firefly

No Good News

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AC [Anno Celestae]
1220 hours

I awoke not long after noon.

I had decided to rest in the barracks with my first platoon. While ‘tis certain the cloud in my stateroom would be more comfortable, I didn’t want to sleep so deeply I’d fail to wake up at a moment’s notice. Wars could be decided by which commander reacts quickest, after all. And yet, as I’d been allowed a full five hours of sleep without being rousted or additional alarms sounding, ‘twas apparent the gryphons had not returned.

My hopes rose a bit at the realization, but any thought of good news on my awakening was dashed as I flew to the watchtower and found Fell Flight and Blindside waiting inside, the former commanding patrols and the latter functioning as watch officer, monitoring communications as the leader of the alert platoon should. The grim look on their faces spoke volumes, and my heart sank to see it. “How bad?” I asked as I returned their salutes.

“Bad,” my cat-eyed friend said simply. “The gryphons have made no further appearances aside from a few high-altitude overflights, but we’ve only had sporadic contact with division headquarters and the other border bases. Outposts Alpha and Beta have fallen silent and division believes them lost. Delta is fighting but faltering; at last report they’ve suffered severe casualties and don’t know how much longer they can hold. Omega has beaten off the first wave but lost nearly a third of their force. They’re uncertain if they can survive a second strike.” My second closed her eyes tightly at that, perchance remembering the friends she had there.

There was little I could say to that. Fell flight had been previously assigned to Outpost Omega, our most dangerous border post, overlooking as it did three pony settlements in disputed territory. Given the high risk of attack, only the best Corps soldiers were assigned there, and she had previously been its second in command before receiving an emergency transfer request to Outpost Epsilon following a failed gryphon raider attack that left us shorthooved. Arriving with a reinforcing platoon, she had demanded I give her command based on her seniority and then-higher rank, willing to duel me for it when I refused. Though bested by me at the time, she had fallen into line and become a fine second, one I would trust with both my outpost and my life.

I reflected that what she had overcome was in many ways even worse than what I suffered attempting to become the first Armored Guardsmare in Equestrian history. I had endured brutal training, but her thestral lineage had made her subject to much bigotry and hatred, her cat-eyes rendering her nearly day-blind and forcing her to get special crystal lenses implanted to filter daylight to manageable levels before she could become a soldier. ‘Twas a risky and untested operation, one that might well have blinded her if it had gone wrong, but she’d gone through with it and been able to join the Corps after… though only over the strong objections of not just the rank-and-file but the then-Aerial Corps Commander, General Squall Line.

Believing she was a security threat as thestrals had once fought on the side of Nightmare Moon, his unofficial orders to harass her until she quit had culminated in an attempt to kill her. She’d been knocked out and left for dead by her comrades on the wrong side of the border, but she’d turned that into a triumph by stumbling on a raider plot and infiltrating gryphon territory to thwart it. She’d single-hoofedly rescued three kidnapped earth pony families, decimating the raider group that did it with nothing more than her wits and superlative night vision, earning the rarely-given Sapphire Sentinel medal and a promotion to Sergeant for her deeds. She’d done nothing but add to her record since, earning a reputation for excellence both in battle and outside of it; ‘twas no doubt in my mind she’d make a fine commander in her own right.

In fact, she’d been awarded command of her former post of Outpost Omega just before the war started, scheduled to transfer there in but days. It seemed unlikely that would ever happen now, and I couldn’t help but wonder if either Omega or Epsilon would be standing much longer. “And Gamma…?” I inquired as to the status of our biggest border base located midpoint of the frontier, home to 5th Division headquarters and an entire brigade of troops. ‘Twas our only possible source of reinforcements at this point, and should it have fallen...

“Gamma has not yet been directly struck but is under siege; as our largest and best-defended base, the gryphons have surrounded it and methinks intend to simply make it impossible to leave,” Fell Flight answered. “Methinks it makes sense, actually. With Captain Sirocco and the bulk of the 5th division’s ready forces pinned, ‘tis certain the gryphons can take their sweet time cleaning up the other outposts before focusing their full efforts on crushing Gamma.”

“In other words, we’ve fared the best of all the Corps bases,” I said with no small dismay, sitting back heavily. “Or perchance just the luckiest to have only endured one ill-led attack. How could they come here with such poor tactics and inadequate force?” I wondered aloud.

“Perchance they do not have adequate forces available given the sudden strike. Or perchance that sub-Tribune was operating off faulty intelligence, and believed us to still be a backwater used for border training graduates?” Blindside suggested, speaking from alongside us.

“Possible,” I admitted as I dispatched an orderly for food, intending to eat where I could keep watch. “And what of the Equestrian Army?”

“Methinks they fare no better than the Corps,” Fell Flight said, consulting a report scroll we’d received via the dragonfire crystal network we used to pass missives between our gems and 5th Division Headquarters at Gamma, giving it another glance before passing it to me. “Their bases and outposts have been hit hard by both Talons and Knights. Smaller garrisons have been crushed and the larger ones are pinned like Gamma, being ground down slowly. Those that survive are begging for Corps support, but…”

“But we can’t provide it,” I finished for her, grumbling as our food arrived, a simple meal of carrots and hay as the mess hall kept its cooking quick and portions light. We had enough food for a fortnight, or perchance a month if we rationed it, though methinks I sensed even then we weren’t going to be here much longer. “Methinks what we have is barely enough to defend our own base, let alone relieve others,” I said as I took a plate.

Blindside followed suit. “Methinks you are right. We’re in a gale without our primaries for certain, ma’am,” she said solemnly, then hesitated. “With respect, ma’am... ‘tis certain if we remain here that we risk destruction as well. As we have no explicit orders to stay, and we are out of contact with enemy forces... could we not attempt to make a break for Outpost Blue? ‘Tis the closest major Army base and at last report was still fighting…” she suggested hopefully.

“Said last report was over two hours ago and the base is over eighty miles away,” Fell Flight replied for me, echoing my own thoughts as I’d already considered and discarded the idea some time earlier. “I do not think it wise, ma’am.”

“Unfortunately, I must agree. If we were to arrive to find the outpost fallen, then we’ll find ourselves on the run, constantly hounded by the gryphons and not knowing where or how far we must fly to reach friendly forces. No, Sergeant, we cannot leave. Far better to make our stand here with our backs to our own base supported by our storm teams than to engage in a running battle with the superior numbers and stamina of the gryphons. Better, too, for our wounded to not have to move. We also have no way of transporting our unicorn and earth pony friends,” I reminded her in some reproach, as her suggestion would necessitate abandoning them.

She fell silent at that, but Fell Flight spoke up again. “The bad news doesn’t end there, ma’am. Division reports they’re unable to contact Corps Headquarters in Canterlot,” she added. “It hasn’t been struck, we’re certain of that, which means there’s something interrupting our communications.”

I frowned. That in itself was more worrying than the idea of being surrounded by gryphons. If we couldn’t contact Corps Headquarters or Canterlot, then we couldn’t receive orders or request reinforcements from high command. They might have already ordered our withdrawal or some other action but we never received it. And just how were our supposedly secure crystal communications being blocked? They operated off dragonfire, which was supposed to be unbreachable except to actual dragons. I thought of several answers, none of them good...

And as it turned out, the truth was worse than any scenario we’d dreamed of. I must commend you again, Ambassador, for your superb strategy and your sheer bravery in bringing it about. ‘Twas to your great credit, and our great loss.

Thank you, Captain, but I must in turn apologize for it, for the terrible destruction our new allies would eventually wreak on both sides. ‘Twas an alliance born of desperation, and one, ‘tis certain we would all yet rue.

Greetings to all readers of this tale. I am Layan Kaval, and for those who do not know me, my name is revered and reviled throughout both Equestria and the now-former Empire for my role in the war. I was and am an elite warrior, the former commander of the Red Talons, or Talaeus as we call them, and ‘twas by my efforts that our plan to cage Celestia came to fruition. ‘Twas the brainchild of my lord and master, an earth gryphon I was then honored to serve as adjutant and personal bodyguard:

Prelate Salvio Gaius, the commander of our armed forces, architect of the invasion, and perchance the most brilliant military mind the Empire ever produced. Though even he could not have foreseen the spies that would steal our war plans and smuggle them to Equestria, forcing us to launch our attack nearly two months too soon. With only slightly more than half our planned forces in place, our work was cut out for us on the first day of war and despite our success in many sectors, ‘tis certain many problems were presenting themselves as well, some more intractable than others...

—Prelate Layan Kaval (ret.)
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot

Enemy Mind

Imperial Headquarters Bunker
Raptor Base, opposite Outpost Gamma
September 1st, 1139 AC
1340 hours

Salvio Gaius, Prelate of the Gryphon Empire and overseer of the invasion of Equestria, stared at the young Optio who had reported to him via scrying crystal, his talons tapping on the stone table in his underground office. “So to summarize... As your Legion commander was absent, your Sub-Tribune acted against orders to strike at an Aerial Corps outpost without any Knight support, and as a consequence, your cohort has been reduced to less than half strength, with yourself as the ranking officer, whilst inflicting only minimal casualties to Outpost Epsilon?” he recited in some disgust.

The Optio visibly gulped on the other end of the connection; we’d installed the scrying network with great expense and difficulty so we could communicate quickly with our forces all along our far-flung border with Equestria. “’T-Tis true, sir! Methinks nothing could have prepared us for what happened! Their soldiers fought like demons and they had unicorn support! Their commander slew Sub-Tribune Yallis within seconds of the battle’s start and their storm teams decimated us! ‘Twas a slaughter, sir! Methinks there was nothing we—”

“Silence, lad,” Gaius said, holding up a paw, and the Optio tiercel instantly obliged. The Prelate tapped his talons a few more times, then turned to me. “You have read the report and now heard what happened firstwing. What say you about this, Tribune Kaval?” he addressed me formally for the audience we had.

I snorted, mantling my black-dyed, red-tipped wings, a visible symbol to all of my status as a Talaeus. We believed ourselves the most elite warriors in existence, and not without reason—our feats in battle were legendary, and you could not join our ranks without defeating an existing member in a death duel or performing a mighty martial deed. Like all my Talaeus brethren I was dyed black head-to-toe with symmetric but slash-like red stripes painted at intervals on my wings and torso. ‘Twas not meant to camouflage but instead make us instantly recognizable, giving me and all my fellow Red Talon warriors a frightful appearance designed to instill fear into the hearts of the Empire’s enemies.

As their overall commander I was the best of them, but ‘twas my tactical mind and counsel the Prelate valued most. “I say Yallis was a fool of the first order. She sent insufficient force into the teeth of a prepared defense. She clearly hadn’t read the updated intelligence on Epsilon, and likely believed it to still be a backwater base the Corps used for fresh graduates to gain some seasoning on the border. As she ignored instructions to wait, perchance she thought she could gain some instant glory by assaulting the base early and without help,” I began in some contempt.

“A rather harsh appraisal,” Gaius mused, though I knew from his tone and long experience with him that he did not disagree with it.

“But a well-deserved one, my lord. ‘Twould explain why she departed before the Legion commander had arrived and the Knights assigned to her cohort were ready. Her exact words, according to Centurion Nael, were: ‘The Talons will be more than enough for such a small, unimportant base.’” I motioned at a report scroll we had received earlier. “Regardless of her reasons, her mistakes were numerous and her tactics ridiculous. Had she survived, I would say she deserved the most severe of punishment.”

“Indeed. She failed to perform the most basic of due diligence, showed no respect for the foe she faced, failed to follow orders and as a consequence both she and her cohort paid a very heavy price,” Gaius growled. “‘Tis a pity she was slain quickly. For such egregious errors in judgment, I would have ordered her execution for gross incompetence and senselessly sacrificing her soldiers. Your analysis is correct on all counts, my friend. Never mind her willful disobedience, that she went in without mage support or anti-aura crossbow bolts ‘twas utter folly in the face of pony weather teams and unicorn shields. And lacking them, ‘twould seem that even a few unicorns are an excellent force multiplier—a lesson we must not allow the ponies to learn,” he warned.

I could not but concur. “Your orders, sir?” I prompted.

He considered my question for a moment, tapping his talons a few more times. “With things as they are right now, methinks we cannot afford too many delays. Her actions are a setback, but only a minor one, thank the Ancestors. Methinks this can be salvaged and our timeline restored,” he stated with certainty, then looked back at the Optio. “Your report is appreciated, young warrior, and know that your losses were not in vain. Be assured your cohort will shortly have more competent leadership—you! For taking command, for leading the rearguard in the face of an overwhelming enemy and for successfully extracting your force… I promote you to Centurion!” he pronounced, causing me to take an immediate note of it so the citation and promotion could be formally made. “Congratulations, warrior.”

His beak fell open and expression went decidedly mixed. “I… thank you sir, but… I do not believe I should be rewarded for failure…” he offered tentatively, to which the Prelate shook his head and favored him with a smile.

“I promote you for taking charge under the most trying of circumstances. The attack failed through no fault of your own, but that your cohort survives is by your efforts. I know leadership when I see it, lad,” he said, his tone almost fatherly. “Accept my thanks and those of the Empire as well.”

Seemingly taking strength of the Prelate’s words—whatever his faults, he truly did have a talent to inspire—the newly minted Centurion bared his throat and saluted, standing taller and thumping the curled talons of his right fist against his left shoulder pauldron. “I will not disappoint you, sir!”

The Prelate returned the gesture. “Of that I have no doubt. Now Centurion, if you wouldst please put the Legate back on…?”

His face disappeared to be replaced by another, this one an earth gryphon tiercel bearing a Legate’s armor and command chain. “I must apologize again, my lord, for being away from the base when the invasion orders came and not being there to direct my legion.” He bared his throat in deference. “I was on leave visiting my family in Cirrus Cassada at the time and did not receive your orders until nearly dawn. I have only arrived at legion headquarters within the past hour and am still trying to retake command.”

The Prelate waved off his concerns. “I do not expect my soldiers or leaders to anticipate the impossible, Legate Galea. Our preparations were necessarily rushed and many senior commanders were caught away from their posts. In any event, you have heard the Centurion’s report. I trust you will take the appropriate action?”

“Yes, my lord. I am still catching up on battle action, but I can at least say with certainty that the Equestrian Army border bases in our sector are being steadily reduced, if with more casualties than I would have liked. Tribune Rialta did her best in my absence, but methinks our forces were not as well-coordinated as they should have been and she should never have allowed Yallis to launch an unsupported attack on Epsilon. I assure you this will be rectified quickly and our second strike will succeed!”

The Prelate arched an eyeridge. “I am counting on it, Legate. And your decimated 5th Cohort…?” he prompted, to which the Legate turned to his side to address his out-of-sight subordinate.

“Your remaining forces will be folded into the 7th Cohort, Centurion. Report to sub-Tribune Octavian at once,” he ordered, returning a given salute and then turning back to the Prelate. “With your permission, my lord, we will bypass and besiege Epsilon for now whilst subduing the remaining Army bases, and then attack the outpost again at dusk once darkness is our ally and we have sufficient Knight and Magus support available. You may be assured that I will not repeat the mistakes of Yallis and the outpost will not survive the night. By dawn, all resistance will be eliminated and we will control this sector!”

Gaius indicated his endorsement with a nod. “I approve of your plans and will keep you from your duties no longer. Keep me appraised of your progress, Legate,” he instructed.

“By your command, my lord,” he gave a ritual response and salute, and then his image winked out of the crystal.

‘Twas then that another voice made itself known, both grating and mocking. “Not everything going according to plan, I take it?”

Gaius narrowed his eyes, and I suppressed a sneer at the newcomer, having no more love for her than the Prelate did. “I did not need to study the Sun Master’s notes to know this simple fact, Primarch: No plan survives first contact with the enemy,” he said, referring to the great and ancient Pony military mind he had become somewhat enamored with following his studies of Equestrian military history and culture. “Though perchance another piece of his wisdom applies here: ‘If you are ignorant of both your enemy and yourself, you are certain to be in peril.’”

Primarch Livia Cassius Junius, the leader of the Paladins, snorted as she picked up a report scroll from his desk and read it, showing him very little deference despite the fact he bore the Empire’s highest military rank and commanded the whole of our armed forces, including her. The Paladins were, in theory, the answer to Equestria’s Royal Guard, as they were charged with defense of the realm and royal family. In practice, I found them wanting, as despite their magic-enhanced strength and stature, most never left the Imperial Capital of Mosclaw or sullied their blades with combat outside of duels. Livia and I had never liked each other, and Gaius held even less regard for her, believing her to be a mediocre warrior and leader at best and not appreciating her constant efforts to turn the Empress against him.

Unfortunately, her presence was by royal decree. After the Prelate’s first plan for invading Equestria was dashed rather spectacularly, Empress Palamecia had decided a tighter leash on his war effort was required. Livia was that leash. She was officially the Eyes of the Empress, and that gave her the right to watch over affairs and come and go as she saw fit. “Perchance that is one bit of wisdom I’ll grant them,” she said as she strolled lazily by the Prelate, knowing full well how much her presence annoyed him. “Still, to lose over two and a half centuries for less than a tenth that in pony casualties… were our tactics just that poor, or were the soldiers at Outpost Epsilon just that good?”

‘Twas a valid question, so I offered my own opinion. “Perchance a little of both. Recent reports indicate their readiness to be the highest among the current Corps border bases. Their commander, Master Sergeant Firefly, is an Armored Guardsmare—the first in Royal Guard history—and has had them doing drills and exercises involving weighted armor similar to what she went through as a recruit,” I said, looking at a report scroll from the Office of Owls that detailed those facts… reports which Yallis had failed to read, to her great cost.

“Corps soldiers with Armored Guardspony training…” Gaius mused thoughtfully. “A disquieting concept, I confess. If all their forces had such skill, this invasion could be far more costly.” He began tapping his talons on his desk again as he oft did whilst lost in thought.

“Is that doubt I hear in your voice, Prelate?” Livia sneered, as always not missing an opportunity to tweak her longtime rival, believing him too independent and enamoured of maneuver and machinations than direct combat. “Are you having second thoughts about your great and glorious plan?”

“Hardly,” he shot back, leaving me wondering again when the two would finally settle their differences with a duel. “I’m merely contemplating the best means to break that outpost and overcome their remaining border defenses. Gamma and Omega were expected to survive the first wave, though lacking the planned second legion, I am told that Tribune Tiberius has elected to lay siege to Gamma rather than attempt an immediate frontal assault.”

“Then I trust you will be dismissing him for cowardice shortly?” the Primarch prompted, showing once again that she had little military acumen of her own.

To his credit, the Prelate did not rise to the bait. He was generally quite reserved in his emotions, believing a cool head better served the interests of a military commander than a hot temper. “Quite the contrary, Primarch. I consider his decision the correct one. ‘Twas a wise call on his part, as the base was forewarned and on full alert by the time he approached. Had he still struck facing their thousand Army and Aerial Corps soldiers with but half a legion, he could have suffered the fate of Yallis’ cohort on a much larger scale. We will reduce Gamma in due course. Epsilon, though… methinks it beyond clear that Talons alone will not suffice.” He tapped the crystal’s base with a Talon, revealing another gryphon inside. “Centurion Nael, what is the readiness of your Knights?”

“My 1st century is still supporting the 3rd Talon legion in their assault on the Equestrian Army border bases, but I am bringing up the 2nd now and commanding our cohort in sub-Tribune Malfor’s absence. We are still gathering our forces, but be assured I will have six more decades ready by nightfall, Prelate, including two Magus Knights. If you wish a full century, I will need some time more to muster them as the sub-Tribune and my remaining forces are still in transit and at least a day away,” the older but still potent centurion replied somewhat apologetically in another indication of how badly we were scrambling in the face of our own surprise strike.

“Methinks that unnecessary, but best bring them forward as quickly as possible. Order them out of the tunnels and into the air to get them to the front faster,” he instructed, referring to the Diamond Dog-dug tunnels we’d been using to covertly bring our forces and war supplies forward without the Equestrian Intelligence Service or their pet Black Lance teams knowing. “In the meantime, dispatch your available forces to Legate Galea, and have them ready to assault Epsilon at his orders...”

Your apology is accepted, ambassador, as you did your duty and did it well. I bare you no ill will for serving your side and doing what you thought necessary to win the war. Firefly herself would say you were the mightiest and most honorable of warriors, and in the years that followed you became Equestria’s greatest friend. What separated you from far too many was that you always served others and put your nation’s interests first. Methinks the allies you summoned, however, ultimately served no interests except their own…

—Princess Celestia

Besieged

War Council Chambers
Canterlot Castle
September 1st, 1139 AC
1120 hours

“My Princess! My Princess!” I had barely announced my intention to engage the gryphons myself when a lower-ranked Celestial Guardspony pegasus burst into the room, his wings twitching whilst looking wide-eyed and panicked—looks I rarely saw on the faces of my strong and stoic stallions. Their function was mostly ceremonial as I could easily take care of myself, but I did insist that they be superb soldiers, even if only for the sake of appearances. “We are besieged!”

We all turned to him in surprise; even I was put off by the interruption and lack of discipline he demonstrated, unbecoming of my personal guard.

“Get a hold of yourself, Sergeant. We are well aware the gryphons are invading...” Coral Torch said in some annoyance, only to be met with a sharp shake of the stallion’s head.

“No! I mean, we are besieged here! In Canterlot! Right now!” he insisted, gesticulating wildly with his wings and forehooves from his hover.

“What are you blathering about, Guardspony?” General Claymore asked next. “We’ve suffered assassination attempts, yes, but the gryphons are still over a thousand miles away!”

“Ma’am, please listen! I’m not talking about the gryphons!” he spoke in increasingly exasperated but fearful tones. “I’m talking about—”

His statement was interrupted, or perchance finished by a loud and savage roar I had not heard in hundreds of years. ‘Twas a call of challenge whose source was instantly recognizable and froze the hearts of all present in the room. I wasted no time after that, teleporting outside with a bright flash and flare of my horn, feeling my own moment of fear. Surely it could not be…

As I rematerialized outside and beheld the horrifying sight, I realized it very much was. There were twenty of them, all enormous, their winged reptilian forms of varying shapes and colors flying in lazy circles around my capital. The mere sight of them caused much consternation amongst my ponies below, and for very good reason—even one of them was formidable, but the score I saw would be unstoppable, able to devastate vast tracts of land and reduce my armies to ash. I might be able to take on a few of them, but not an entire clan, and their presence here could only mean…

My worst fears were confirmed when one of them spotted me and swooped down upon me, flaring his massive wings to hover before me. “Hello, young godling...” he smiled unpleasantly at me through his reptilian fangs, his voice little more than a low rumble I could feel as much as hear. “Know that we have waited a thousand years for this day. Know also that our clan’s vengeance is upon you, and we have come to cause your nation’s fall.”

I felt a trickle of fear down my back as I recognized him, an ancient adversary Luna and I had banished long earlier, a being even older than us. He was exactly as I remembered except even larger than before, his great size likely borne of his even greater greed. He was a massive creature possessing violet scales, slitted green eyes and two rows of jagged teeth around which puffed black smoke, the barest hint of the inferno that lay within, one that could lay Canterlot waste quickly should he so choose. He was a fearful sight, even more so than his kindred who watched us with great glee, and worse, he and his clan had every reason to hate me… and by extension, all Equestria.

Methinks I had no idea how the Gryphons had gained his alliance, but it mattered not then.

“Dragon Lord Kalator…” I replied in a bare whisper, only then understanding how endangered Equestria truly was.

The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him. – Sun Tzu

Author's Note

And there’s the grand reveal! :pinkiegasp: The Gryphons in general and Salvio Gaius in particular would not invade without having plans to deal with Celestia, who has made a few powerful enemies over her long life. You’ll learn more about her history with Kalator in the next chapter, who you’ll soon see could give Smaug a run for sheer silver-tongued smugness and malice.

Thanks go to co-author Leo Archon, who wrote the bulk of the Kaval/Gaius scene, and to the usual prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, TheGoldCrow and Denim_Blue for helping polish this chapter to a shine. It’s always a blast to read their back-and-forth banter and editing suggestions on the parent google doc, and seeing their feedback is some of the most fun I have doing this!

As promised, I will release one new chapter a day until I run out, so you’ll be seeing new chapters until at least Monday! On a side note, I’ve added a map of the continent of Equis to part 1, and you can expect most chapters to have at least one map showing some new facet of Equestria or battle/campaign progress. Enjoy!

The War Begins: 5 - A Question of Honor

Greetings again to all readers, whether my own loyal subjects or honored citizens of other nations. ‘Tis at Firefly’s insistence I continue my part of this tale. ‘Tis not a happy chapter in either this war or this story, and one I feel great shame over to this day. For in the end, I was arrogant, thinking too much of my own power and that I alone made Equestria invincible. ‘Twas on this day I was disabused of that notion quite rudely, and reminded that I was far from the only powerful being on this planet…

That there were those who could rival me, some of whom had more than ample reason to hate me. I did not anticipate this tactic or the alliance that enabled it, and I will bear the shame of it for all my ageless life...

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria

Ultimate Weapon

Equestria
Canterlot
September 1st, 1139 AC
1122 hours

“Dragon Lord Kalator...” I recognized the ancient clan leader, to my great fear and consternation. “What is the meaning of this?” I had to ask, even though I feared I knew the answer.

“Ah, you remember me?” the massive and menacing drake sketched me a mocking bow as his brethren circled us at a distance in numbers not even I could hope to defeat. ‘Tis worth mentioning again that I could take on and triumph over a full-grown dragon, certainly. Perchance even four or five. But not even I could defeat an entire clan of them. “Truly, I am touched. I certainly remember you, young godling. Methinks I have never forgotten how you slew my son, relieved us of our hoards and drove us from our ancestral homes!” He bared his teeth.

He was correct, though left unstated in that accusation was that I had help from my sister and army in the battle and that we had done so because he and his clan had allied with King Sombra to raid our northern settlements, inflicting a thousand deaths and razing entire villages to sate their greed. However, ‘twas a thought that at that moment was best kept to myself. “And for that, you would so callously slaughter all my ponies?”

“Their lives mean nothing to my kind and never have,” he answered, the blandly stated sentence sending a fresh chill through me. “But do not let my presence trouble thee, young godling. I see you have already dressed for battle. I assume you mean to destroy the Gryphons, so by all means, do so. They offered us half their treasury and the location of their rose ruby mines for our help, but be assured our alliance with them is merely one of convenience. We have no loyalty to them and will not stop you,” he invited, making a sweeping gesture towards the east with a taloned paw that dwarfed me, only to smile toothily again and show the barest hint of fire in the back of his throat.

“But know that if you do... You will return to find your precious capital reduced to ashes!” he promised. “Know that none will survive my clan’s wrath. And know that I will enjoy every single scream of your subjects as they burn to cinders beneath my withering flame, their pitiful pleas for salvation left unheeded by their benevolent and almighty princess who so cruelly abandoned them to their fate.”

I stared at him in horror, every word he spoke cutting into me like a blade made from his razor-sharp claws. “By the sun and my sister’s moon, you will not harm my ponies!”

He chuckled at that, then drove his talons deeper. “Ah yes. Please do give my regards to Luna... In whatever Tartarus you trapped her in. Such a pity she cannot be here to witness your downfall, Celestia. I would fear her more than you, for she would not hesitate to sacrifice Canterlot to save her entire country. She would do what was necessary to win the war swiftly, crushing the gryphons and then recalling her entire army to fight us alongside her. It might even work. But the Prelate is correct when he believes that you, scion of the sun, cannot take such a course. That you are too weak to do what is necessary to win. ‘Twas ultimately why I agreed to aid him, to see the helpless look on your face right now.” His grin got wider.

He was right. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Which left me with but two immediate options, one of which was... “Then perchance I should finish the job my sister and I started a thousand years ago and slay every last one of you here and now!” I drew upon the sun and ignited my mane and tail to add emphasis to my words.

Far from intimidated, he looked amused at that. “Idle threats do not become you, Daybringer,” he called me by my rarely used last name. “Be assured I am not the same drake I was when last we met. I have gorged on gold and my power is at its peak. Perchance if your sister was here, you might stand a chance against me. But regrettably, you abandoned and exiled her. Condemned her to a fate worse than death, you did,” his words felt like talons raking my very flesh. “We rather enjoyed watching your war from afar. But by all means, if you think you can defeat us without her, you are welcome to try. Just remember that should you fail... That should you fall here...” his actions spoke for him as breathed a great gout of flame onto the ground below, instantly reducing an orchard to ashes. “Tis not just Canterlot that will burn. For slaying my son, crushing my clan and exiling us from our ancestral home, we will take vengeance on all Equestria!”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I could only stare at him, agape. “Since you seem speechless, Celestia, allow me to put it plainly: Here and now, you cannot win. And thus, your choice is to save Canterlot or your country. Make your decision quickly, young godling. For if you choose the latter, every moment you delay is another of your precious ponies lost... And if you continue to hesitate, I might just choose to disobey our agreement with the Gryphons and attack Canterlot immediately!” He held up a massive to paw to signal his clan, who immediately begin diving on the city with screeches and roars, flames of various colors visible in their mouths.

I had no choice. I teleported back to the city and, hovering high over its spires, hurriedly cast an ancient spell, one that cost me half my immediate power and would take a great deal more to maintain. A massive beam lanced upwards from my horn and then spread outward, forming a shimmering golden bubble around Canterlot, one that would prevent dragon passage and keep their fire at bay. But in doing so... Until they were dead or driven off, I could not leave Canterlot. I would have to stay at all times to maintain the shield, for once I left or my power faltered, it would collapse within seconds and Canterlot would burn in dragonfire.

Even as the barrier went up and I denied Kalator his prize, he and his clan laughed from outside of it, all of them looking strangely satisfied. “The Prelate was indeed accurate in his appraisal of your weakness, Sun Princess. You disappoint me, but do not surprise me. Just know that in the end, this will save neither your nation nor your capital!” the dragon lord promised me gleefully, bearing his teeth again in an eager and evil smile. “By the time the Gryphon army arrives on your doorstep, your power will be at its nadir!”

And with that, he turned and roared an order to his clan, who immediately soared high in the very air and breathed great gouts of fire overhead, casting a pall of black smoke over the entire sky. The sun I kept and drew my strength from went shrouded, and then hidden as they masked it behind their poison fume, and ‘twas then I understood the full meaning of this words and intent of the gryphon strategy—they were using the dragons to pin me in place and weaken me, as without sunlight, my power would slowly ebb until I could no longer maintain the shield or protect the ponies within. It would take weeks, even months for that to happen, but unless their siege was lifted before it did... Canterlot was doomed.

Satisfied, Kalator turned to me again, his look sickeningly smug. “It is done. Methinks I will give the Prelate credit for this much—he has come up with a most satisfying strategy. I will enjoy watching you weaken and the fear of your subjects grow. Oh, and lest I forget… I strongly suggest you do not alter the rise of the sun or moon for military advantage. For every time you do… we will find and destroy a single town!” he told me, puffing flame around his teeth again for emphasis.

“You are a monster…” I told him, feeling more trapped than ever.

“‘Tis far too late for flattery, Daybringer…” he replied, looking like he was enjoying himself immensely. “So return to your beloved city, Celestia. Cower and conceal yourself in your castle and lie to your precious ponies, telling them all will be well. But you are doomed, and methinks you know it. Know in turn that I will be there when your shield falls and your kingdom along with it; know well that Canterlot will yet burn in dragonfire. It will not be instant, but so much the better for how long I may savor it! I am patient. I have waited a thousand years for vengeance. Methinks I can wait a few weeks more,” he told me from outside the shield, then took to the skies on his massive webbed wings again, circling my city like the vile and deadly vulture he was.

I watched him leave, feeling sick to my stomach. For in the end… he and the Prelate were right. I could not abandon my little ponies so callously, not even if it meant winning the war quickly. I was not my sister; I could not so wantonly sacrifice the lives of my subjects, not even in pursuit of some perceived greater good. But that did not mean there were not other ways to fight; it did not mean I could not yet find ways to win.

“My Princess…?” my generals asked me as I returned to them defeated, but put on a brave face. They had watched from the balcony, and knew the import of what had happened all too well. “What shall we do?”

“We are safe for now…” I promised them. “But we must start work immediately on a means to escape this trap, and plan for a long war ahead. Be assured, we are far from beaten...” We began to discuss potential strategies immediately, but even the one we eventually came up with would take time to come to fruition...

Time ‘twas quite possible we did not have.

In the end, the Prelate’s plan to cage me had worked. I was trapped. For the forseeable future, I could do nothing except protect Canterlot and find a way to direct my forces from afar, and my failure to foresee this or end the war quickly ‘tis my greatest shame to this day.

Still, I did not give into despair. I had lived too long and fought too many battles for that. I swore even then as I returned to my council chambers defeated, that I would find a way to save my kingdom and capital. I had not lived so long without fighting many wars and learning patience; ‘twas then I realized that I would have to fight a long war, and call upon all my experience and knowledge were my beloved nation and ponies to survive. I knew not then how we would win, but I swore silently that we would…

And that before this war was over I would slay Dragon Lord Kalator myself.

I thank you for your continued indulgence, my Princess, and also for managing to uphold your oath. Goodness knows this book would not have been written if you hadn’t. But for now, I must turn the quill over to another pony; one very near and dear to my heart, who has her own story to tell of that fateful first day of the war.

—Firefly

Thank you, my sister. Greetings, dear friends, new and returning readers alike. I am Wind Whistler, Firefly’s sister and in time, her fellow Bolt Knight. Our sisterhood is in all but blood, as I befriended her at an early age, seeing her great potential long before anypony else. She was eventually adopted by my parents once she had proven herself to them and they truly understood the depth of our bonds; the night they informed us of their choice and presented us with the adoption papers was one of the happiest moments of my life.

But this is not the place for that story. Before I begin, I wish it known here and now that despite the fact I wore the title of Bolt Knight, I am not nor have I ever been the born warrior she was. I possess not her strength nor speed, nor her sheer talent for combat, and ‘tis her that rightly bears the glory of our group.

—Wind Whistler

Methinks you shortchange yourself, as always, sister. ‘Tis true that you may not have my pure physical gifts or be the instinctive fighter I am, but nopony would doubt your combat ability or that your tactical skill and strategic sense are unparalleled. Your ability to read opponents is uncanny and neither I nor the Bolt Knights we founded would have survived the war without you, to say nothing of Equestria itself. Princess Celestia did not elevate you to such heights of command for a time on the basis of your craftspony talents, my dear Whistler!

—-Firefly

You flatter me, but you know I do not seek the spotlight, my sister. At heart, I am not a warrior, just a humble craftspony who seeks a simple life and to aid her friends. A pony who decided that if the only way she could help her most beloved friend and sister was to stand and fight by her side, she would gladly put herself through the same ordeals her sister had endured so that she might do so. But by your personal request, I leave the comfort of my windchimes shop to offer up my first tale of the war proper.

—Wind Whistler

Basic Training

‘Tis no exaggeration to say that basic Armored Guardspony training at Fort Spur, nestled deep in the southern Applelachian mountains, was brutal.

There was simply no other word for it, and despite my sister’s dire warnings of how difficult it would be and how hard I trained for it under the tutelage of my mother even before entering, ‘twas only when I finally entered that I understood how bad it truly was. We were rousted at early hours and screamed at nonstop through hours of morning exercises. Our sole respite was a rather bland breakfast and lunch before we fell out for afternoon combat drills and weapons training, only occasionally interrupted by a rare classroom session where the penalty for not answering a question quickly and accurately was being singled out for additional attention and training.

Our instructors heaped both physical and mental abuse on us for weeks on end, and none was harder on me than my sister’s own mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear. A monstrously strong slate-blue pegasus stallion who was a twenty-year veteran of the Armored Guard and the Equestrian Aerial Corps before that, he was the only living pony to hold Equestria’s highest military honor, the Defender of Harmony medal, given to him for single-hoofedly fighting and besting a rogue Red Talon warrior, likely saving not just his command but an entire village whilst he was the commanding officer of Outpost Omega.

He was a massive and imposing male and not just physically. His wit was as sharp as his wingblades, and ‘tis no exaggeration to say we were terrified of him at first. He took his duties very seriously; you challenged or disobeyed him at your peril, and typically, less than a third of the hundred pegasus stallion recruits who began six months of Armored Guardspony basic emerged wearing armor at the end. The rest washed out within the first few weeks, as a rule, and my class had been no different. We lost two the very first night and fully fifty percent of our recruits in the first month, a few too badly injured to continue but most having quit of their own accord, unable to take the relentless mental and physical abuse they were receiving.

‘Twas not cruelty that they tortured us, as much as it may have seemed otherwise. ‘Twas to make sure we could keep up even in the worst of combat and would not quit no matter what, though perchance we did not fully appreciate this until that fateful first day of the war. Even though I knew this full well upon entry, ‘tis no lie to say that the attrition nearly claimed me as well, especially during the shock of the first night and week when we were stripped of individuality, shorn of most of our manes and tails, dyed the same drab grey color to hide our colors and cutie marks, and put through an ordeal whose only purpose was to break us.

Indeed, methinks, ‘twas only then I learned the true meaning of the Guardspony trainer credo: “We either break our recruits, or make them unbreakable.”

And yet, when my spirits were at their lowest and I felt I could not go on, I need only close my eyes and think of... You, my sister. My desire to help you. To stand by you. To help carry the warrior’s burden you bore for all of us. ‘Twas not easy, but in the end, I endured basic for you and even found, much to my surprise, that I was indeed becoming a far better fighter for it, much stronger and swifter, though methinks I did not realize how good I’d gotten until I defeated the two stallion recruits who had been tormenting me for weeks. In fairness, ‘twas, less through my battle prowess than through simple power of observation, knowing how to rile them into making mistakes and sensing what they would do even before they did. When I bested them at three months in, I at long last earned the acceptance of the entire class.

‘Twas also good to see respect in the eyes of Windshear even if just for a single fleeting moment, and ‘twas then I finally knew that I would make it.

The next two months passed surprisingly swiftly, as perchance we had all settled into a routine of train, eat, drill, sleep, repeat. ‘Twas not to say that they let up on us—indeed, as they were conditioning us to bear our armor, they kept adding more weight to our training gear each week. But it would result in no more attrition as all the washouts had already occurred. Nary a one of the thirty-five pegasi remaining in my once-hundred strong recruit company were about to quit as we neared the final month of basic, not having come so far and endured so much...

Though for all the terrible trials we had already overcome, none could foresee the one we were about to face.

Fort Spur
Armored Guardspony Training Base
North Campelonia Province, 490 miles from southern Pony/Gryphon border
September 1st, 1139 AC
1330 hours

The first of September began as a day like any other at Fort Spur.

Located nearly five hundred miles from the southern border with the gryphons and out of contact with Canterlot, who (I later learned) we expected to have but one daily communication with anyway, there was no indication to either the trainers or recruits anything was wrong at first.

We arose at reveille, same as most other days, and assembled the remains of our pegasus training company outside in our weighted training armor to get yelled at and informed of the day’s plan, which was subject to change at a moment’s notice... And often did as a means of making and keeping us sharp, able to respond to new orders quickly.

No shenanigans appeared planned that day, however, as we engaged in a fairly typical morning routine, enduring our usual exhausting predawn workout followed by a tasteless breakfast and tactical training. To that point ‘twas simply another normal day for us as we entered the final weeks of our six month period of basic; just another average day in the Tartarus that was our training. To date, the only mare recruit to make it through was Firefly herself; but following in her hoofsteps, eight others had entered the current class…

Only two were left, as I was one of them. I had not seen the second mare since the start of basic, an earth pony formerly of the Royal Guard’s Plainclothes Security Division, or PSD, whom my sister had defeated in a duel mere minutes after opening the gates to admit us. By easily besting even a well-trained bodyguard who was a knife-fighting expert, she’d made clear that to be an Armored Guardspony meant enduring intense training in order to reach rarified abilities far beyond anything we thought possible...

Abilities that we were finally starting to realize for ourselves. After four and a half months of basic, the emphasis of our battle drills had shifted from individual pegasus soldier skills like wingblade combat and weather wielding to teaching us to fight together as eleven-pony squads and three-pony elements. Though certainly necessary to start, ‘twas a flaw that would not be corrected quickly that we trained exclusively as tribes and never together, keeping to our own separate pegasus, earth pony and unicorn companies. In truth, we barely saw the other recruit companies as a rule, which underwent different training suitable to their tribe’s talents.

Morning passed quickly and we fell out for lunch, after which we were told to attend a classroom briefing which would give us our next orders, which turned out to be a grueling 100-mile flight to a remote drill field where we would simulate an engagement with the gryphons. Whether by irony or destiny, we would never make it there, but the engagement would still happen…

And be all too real.

Imperial Attack

Methinks the first inkling something was wrong was when we were assembling in the air outside the classroom after receiving our briefing, leaving me again amazed at how much easier I was now bearing the weight of my training armor and dull-edged wingblades. Our altitude gave us a good view of our surroundings, and as we watched, a single and visibly exhausted Aerial Corps pegasus courier stallion reached the gates of Fort Spur, having flown (we later learned) all the way from Outpost Psi, a distance of two hundred sixty two miles—normally well out of range for all but the most well-conditioned pegasi; even Guardsponies would have trouble with that distance.

He was met there by the surprised sentries and collapsed at their hooves, giving them a scroll just before he was carried inside and taken to the healer house. The sentries read the note to some apparent consternation, then one took immediately flight for the communications room whilst the other spoke into a crystal, then teleported away, leaving the gate unguarded.

‘Twas a very odd turn of events indeed, and as we were alone, we started breaking bearing to talk amongst ourselves, uncertain what was happening. We were then called back to the ground as pegasus Guardsponies started crisscrossing the skies like a pack of panicked seabirds and unicorns began teleporting back and forth, trying to pass word.

They did not reach us before Windshear did, rushing out to meet us, a look of consternation on his face I’d never seen before. ”Recruits! The exercise is cancelled! Fall out and report to the armory on the double!” he ordered us in an unusually urgent tone, and though surprised, we obeyed as the voice of base commander, an intimidating earth pony officer named Ironsides, was suddenly heard through the blue loudspeaker gems.

”Attention, trainers and recruits! This is First Lieutenant Ironsides! Listen and take heed!” he began. “We have just received word that Equestria is at war! The Gryphon Empire is invading and an attack on Fort Spur is imminent! Follow the orders of your instructors and arm yourselves for battle! This is NOT A DRILL!” he instructed, and we obeyed as swiftly as we could, trading our dull training blades for the real thing, something they normally only pulled out for duels and special drills or demonstrations.

But there was no time to organize our defense as alarms began to shriek throughout the base and over two centuries of half-eagle, half-lion figures descended from the skies. Some wore gold armor, others mere leather with grey fur dye, and I recognized them instantly from our classroom instruction and reputation alone—Knights and Ravens, the cream of the Empire’s armed forces and the elite assassins of their Office of Owls. They had sent their best to deal with us and burn the base to the ground, and at their forefront…

A single menacing figure dyed almost completely black except for the stripes of red that adorned her torso and wings, squawking orders and directing her forces in their deadly work.

They had clearly planned ahead as they came in two groups from different directions, one from the east and one from the north. They encountered the perimeter anti-intrusion spells that were supposed to block trespassers, but the two mages assigned to each group disabled them quickly, and their forces streamed inside the base, Ravens picking off isolated targets with their uncanny crossbow accuracy before charging into buildings to kill those inside and recover intelligence, going right through roofs and walls to maximize surprise whilst the gold-armored Knights found and engaged Armored Guardsponies on the ground and in the air three or more to one, dispatching them quickly without their weapons or armor.

We were in trouble. They were very well-trained and rehearsed, whilst we were still trying to arm and organize ourselves for battle. Worse, we were now collected around the armory and confusion reigned; I recognized then that if their mages started launching lighting bolts or fire at us, we would be easy prey.

”Enough!” Ironside’s voice cut through the din, having just been teleported in from his office by Sergeant Bone Deep, the head unicorn healer. “You are Guardsponies, now act like it! Sergeant Major Metalbender, take your recruits and form a perimeter! Throw up a magical barricade and start sniping with spells and longbows whilst the rest of us arm ourselves!” he directed, and the head of the unicorn training company swiftly obeyed, directing his recruits into a defensive line. As only half of them were now armed with longbows, he ordered the ones without to project shields and be prepared to cast curses while the remainder notched arrows and took aim, waiting for the gryphons to come into range.

They seemingly did not have long to wait as the wave of gryphon warriors and assassins spread over the base, picking off isolated Guardsponies whilst their mages targeted airborne pegasi with lightning, knocking several from the sky. A pair of pegasus trainers tried to counter with storm clouds hastily retrieved from our training supply, but an unknown spell fired into one caused it to suddenly erupt in lightning in every direction, instantly killing its crew.

My guts clenched as I saw two of my own trainers fall dead to the ground, smoke and flame coming off their scorched bodies. The entire cloud cache soon followed as the same spell was cast directly into it and all the clouds abruptly exploded in deadly lightning, releasing all their bolts at once in a massive detonation that devastated everything within eighty yards and caught three more pegasi in its kill zone. I had no idea how or what form of magic was at play to make that possible, but if even our trainers, said to be some of the best of the Guard, fell so quickly, then how could we possibly win?

Thankfully, cooler heads than mine prevailed at that moment as I frantically pulled on a wingblade harness, struggling to get it fastened. ”Pegasi! Arm up and take to the skies! Fight in squads and keep close! Earth ponies! Defend the buildings and protect the unicorns! Do not let them take the armory or hospital! Corps reinforcements are en route; we have to hold out until they arrive!” First Lieutenant Ironsides proclaimed, pulling on his own helmet and armor, then standing at the forefront with a spear to give orders, intent on defending his command.

He’d clearly been in not just combat but siege situations before given the surety of his instructions, having us turtle up as a means of buying time. On its face, ‘twas a valid strategy, as with our backs to the armory and defended by the combined talents of all three tribes, we could indeed withstand a siege and be hard to crack by even the Empire’s elite. And yet, I couldn’t help but somehow sense that was exactly the wrong course of action here; that we were only playing into enemy hooves as our adversaries made no immediate attempt to press us, focusing their attention initially on outlying and isolated targets, their mages destroying some buildings outright with fire whilst leaving others for the Ravens to invade, perchance looking for prisoners or intelligence.

Given my frantic state, it wasn’t as if I had a better idea, but my analytical mind was kicking in, and I saw their tactics clearly—they didn’t mind us gathering together; ‘twas their intention to herd us into a place where they could collect us and then somehow destroy us en masse, killing the entire base staff and recruit class all at once and eliminating a major training base in the process. To do so would be to score not just a huge symbolic victory over our supposed best forces, but crippling our ability to train new Armored Guardsponies as well.

‘Twas unclear exactly how they were going to accomplish that, either cracking our unicorn perimeter or engaging a massed Guardspony force, but as well-planned as their operation seemed, ‘twas impossible that they didn’t have a way.

Nevertheless, orders were orders and we all obeyed. As said before, Sergeant Major Windshear was a former Aerial Corps outpost commander who’d seen plenty of past combat, and it showed as he quickly took charge of us, organizing his remaining recruits into a scratch platoon of three squads led by our trainers with himself at the forefront as platoon leader. We followed his instructions, taking the skies with wingblades deployed and starting to circle over our improvised redoubt. We were heavily outnumbered in the air, but given our near-complete Guardspony training and covered by spears, longbows and unicorn spellcasting from below, attempting to engage us would be a bloody proposition, and any single gryphon warriors who came too close could be slain swiftly.

But none did. After several minutes, our defense seemed solidified around the center of the base, and ‘twas only then that the gryphon vanguard approached, led by the Red Talon warrior. Her blades were already bloodied; I’d been horrified to see her take out at least two earth ponies and a pegasus trainer personally. To our surprise, she closed in alone, leaving the bulk of her Knights behind.

”Windshear!”the Red Talon shouted in Equish to our group, addressing our head trainer directly. “I am Centurion Pylea! Your time has come, pegasus! Present yourself!” she ordered, pointing a sword at him in challenge as she spotted him from his Sergeant Major stripes.

“How dare you!” he shouted back, a look of pure fury on his face I’d never seen before; a genuine one and not the airs he put on for recruits that did not satisfy him. “You invade Equestrian lands, strike our base without warning, slaughter unarmed soldiers, and then demand a duel? Your commander swore that when the time came, you would challenge me honorably and not endanger others, Talaeus!” he addressed the Red Talon by their gryphon title, leaving the bulk of us slightly bewildered as to why they were singling him out but relieved she wasn’t attacking. The reputation of Red Talons preceded them; they were legendary warriors who could only earn their title and fur dye by performing an incredible battle feat that usually involved slaying many.

“And so we have!” she shouted back, completely unrepentant. “We swore not to endanger innocents, and we have not! Our attack is limited to your base; the town outside remains untouched! And as for your recruits, this is war! They are soldiers, not civilians, and thus, they and your base are valid targets!” she told him, and though her blunt statement brought a moment of unreasoning fear in me as she announced their intention to kill us, I couldn’t help but agree. “If you wish to defeat us, you will have to defeat me! And on your own honor, pegasus, you swore to Tribune Kaval you wouldst meet our challenge if your terms were met! Fail to do so, and your remaining forces die in fire here and now!” The three violet-cloaked mages with her ignited the end of their staves, the crackling of electricity and arcing of sparks making clear they were threatening to unleash great bolts of blue-tinged lightning upon us.

Windshear was livid. “So you wouldst challenge me at the point of the blade, and threaten to kill all if I do not comply? Methinks you’re just as bad as Calea!”

The black-dyed sky gryphon with red stripes looked insulted at that. “Miyal Calea I am not!” she announced, and I recognized the name as that of the Red Talon warrior Windshear had slain during his tenure as commander of Aerial Corps Outpost Omega some seven years earlier. “He was a murderer, not a warrior, and had not half my speed or skill! Even so, your victory over him is a blight on the Red Talon name, one that will now be expunged! Now face me in a single combat, Sergeant Major!”

Windshear glanced down at Ironsides, who nodded once. With that, he closed his eyes, then opened them again. “So be it…” he all but snarled. “Very well, Centurion! I’ve already taken one Talaeus head, I suppose I’ll just have to add yours to my collection as well!” He then passed command of our improvised platoon to his senior trainer, First Sergeant Sun Pillar, giving him—and us—his parting orders: “Do not engage unless attacked. And do not leave the cover of our earth pony and unicorn comrades below,” he instructed us all, then pulled his blue command gem and spoke into it.

“Listen and take heed, fellow warriors of Equestria! The base may burn, but ‘tis the Guardsponies themselves that must survive! You are our hope and pride! You are the best soldiers of Equestria, and for it, you must live! To all recruits, no matter your tribe, that you are here now is testament to your strength of body and spirit and thus, you are worthy of the Guardspony name! As of this day, you are no longer trainees but soldiers in service to Equestria, and know that no matter what happens to me, that you will win this day! Let this battle and your coming victory be remembered well, and know if I should fall here...” he straightened and gave us all a crisp salute. “‘Tis been my highest honor to serve with and train you.”

“The honor was ours, Sergeant Major!” Ironsides answered for us all from below, and even for pegasus recruits like myself, ‘twas the truth. We feared him, methinks we even hated him to start, but we had more than come to respect him for the stallion and warrior he was. “Show her and all gryphons what they face!” He returned the salute, which cued all of us to do the same as Windshear flew forth to face her, the two elite soldiers landing but ten yards apart and locked in a staredown as we were but observers to the clash to come.

The Red Talon considered Windshear before speaking again. “Methinks you right about one thing, Guardspony. This day will be remembered for your fall. We intend to let some of you go, if only to spread word of how Equestria’s elite fell here, helpless before Imperial might.”

“I have a name, and ‘tis Windshear, Centurion!” the Sergeant Major answered her attitude for attitude. “And unlike you, I do not seek glory. But be assured, this day will be remembered… for you and your force’s defeat!”

The barest hint of a smile crossed her face as she appraised him. “We shall see, Sergeant Major. But in fairness, methinks the Tribune was right about you. He said you were a worthy warrior, and to see you now… I believe he is correct.” She saluted him with her blade, waiting for him to return the gesture, which he did with a wingblade. “Then let us not delay further, Sergeant Major Windshear! The battle now turns on us, so make your move!” Pylea ordered, facing him on the ground and rearing up to take a two-paw ready stance with her sword.

But the Sergeant Major did nothing except give her a smirk. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the challenger here, Centurion Pylea?”

She stared at him, then smiled. “As you wish. Then let us begin!” she said as she launched herself at him in a move almost too fast to follow and the long-awaited rematch of Windshear and the Red Talons began…

We did not know it at that moment, but ‘twas a clash whose outcome would impact not just the fight for Fort Spur, but the course of the entire war.

Appear at points which the enemy must hasten to defend; march swiftly to places where you are not expected. —Sun Tzu

Author's Note

These maps are kicking my ass, folks, but I’m going to keep churning them out as best I can. Hopefully they’ll get easier as I go along. So now you know why Celly can’t intervene and what Equestria misses not having Luna around. The way it’s supposed to work is that Celly is the shield, and Luna, the sword. But without Luna or a second alicorn? There’s little Celestia can do right now. Is Kalator right and would Luna have sacrificed all of Canterlot in Celly’s place? You’ll forgive me for not answering except to say that even pre-Nightmare Luna did tend to take a much more pragmatic view of warfare. Which is not to say that Celestia is not capable of it herself.

The battle for Fort Spur begins and will be a three chapter arc, with the second coming tomorrow. Expect it to be suitably epic after this long build-up, a clash of the Empire’s and Equestria’s elite. Until then... thanks as always to my own Bolt Knights; co-writer Leo Archon who contributed several pieces to this chapter, and to prereaders AJ_Aficionado, TheGoldCrow, Denim_Blue and SilentWoodfire.

The War Begins: 8 - A Demon Reborn

After the plunge into war that was the first few chapters, one might think a more sedate chapter would be called for. Unfortunately, such chapters will be few in these frantic early hours of the conflict. Thus, before we continue this story, a brief interlude is in order so we can remember not just the war we fought but the peace we eventually won; be reminded of just why so many fell and that their sacrifices were not in vain.

’Tis certain that writing these chapters can be an emotional and unhappy chore for all of us, far more so than the ones of the previous book, where the war had not yet started and combat was only occasional. Here, as my beloved sister was forced to relive Windshear’s sacrifice and the very traumatic experience of her first battle around it, I took weekend leave from the Equestrian Officer Academy to visit her in the town of Spur. ’Twas my intention to soothe her hurting heart by spending time with her and her family, joined by some very special friends...

Remembrance

When I arrived at the Canterlot docks at dawn to board my naval transport for Fort Spur, I found a procession of Royal Guardsponies and Gryphon Embassy soldiers there to see me off.

Or perchance I should say, seeing us all off. I am pleased and honored to say I was joined by my adopted son Gavian, now a father, artist and instructor at the Celestial Art Academy in Canterlot. Now considered one of the greatest artisans of either nation and an emissary between the races of both, he wished to come because, by a very curious and unlikely set of circumstances, he owed Windshear his life; a fact he learned upon meeting him for the first and only time not long before the war began.

I was expecting him. But I was not expecting Ambassador Kaval, who, now knowing the full story of the Fort Spur battle, formerly requested to join us, seeking to honor Windshear’s sacrifice for himself and his new nation. Upon arrival of our naval transport at the base airship dock some six hours later, we were greeted with an Honor Guard by First Lieutenant Flanking Line, the Fort Spur commander, who paid his respects to us even as we came to pay our respects to Windshear. In formal uniform, he escorted us to the memorial statue that marks the exact spot my mentor fell, sacrificing himself to slay the Talaeus raid leader and the tornado of fire that would have consumed all.

Taps were played whilst Wind Whistler left a custom set of windchimes that sounded out a rather mournful melody, Gavian unveiled a custom painting depicting the battle and the very moment of the Sergeant Major’s sacrifice, and I, the old silver Sergeant’s insignia from my formal attire—the very three stripes he initially pinned on my shoulders upon graduation from Royal Guard basic so many years ago. For his part, Ambassador Kaval left a very fine Talaeus blade, engraved with Windshear’s name and deeds. Gryphons do not give medals for battle feats or other military achievements as we do, but instead honor their soldiers with higher rank and more powerful weapons and armor. In this case, to receive such an exquisite blade as the one the Ambassador presented means that the Sergeant Major is now recognized by the Kingdom as one of the greatest warriors of all time.

The ceremony was quite moving, and having witnessed Windshear’s sacrifice so many years ago, Wind Whistler cried again to see it. In an exceptionally rare event, they even halted training so all trainers and recruits could attend, standing in formation at rigid attention as myself, Wind Whistler, Gavian and the Ambassador each gave a brief but heartfelt speech, the latter about what Windshear taught both sides about the meaning of honor and how the Empire had lost sight of what it was.

’Tis worth noting that Windshear’s grandson, named Stalwart Stand in honor of him, was in attendance amongst the recruits. As much as I may have wished to, I did not meet or address him—’tis tradition of the Armored Guard that no matter what your feats or who your family, you are treated no differently as a recruit for it, and thus, I could not speak to him or give him any special recognition. Indeed, Windshear himself was an Aerial Corps Sky Sergeant before he transferred to the Guard, but then lost his rank and had to go through the six-month basic again as a raw recruit before having an equivalent Guardspony rank returned to him at graduation.

Though unable to talk to him, I did observe him as I watched him drill later, and I do have to say that even under his drab grey pegasus recruit fur dye, I could see much of his grandsire in him. In truth, methinks I recognized him instantly as he had Windshear’s build and piercing eyes, and I was later told by his trainers that he also possessed the same love of princess and province my mentor held, to say nothing of a determination to live up to his legacy. ’Tis certain I look forward to seeing him again upon his graduation, and ’tis then I will finally formally introduce myself and visit the memorial again with him. Methinks he will have no end of questions for me about his grandsire, and I will do my best to answer them all.

Given a VIP tour of the base afterwards, we were also privileged to watch afternoon drills in which a dozen gryphons participated. As part of our effort to deepen ties between our nations and militaries, we have established a series of exchange programs in which gryphon soldiers undergo Royal Guard training whilst Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps troops take part in the Gryphon Kingdom’s ‘Crucible’; their version of basic shared between all their services. It has led to some strange sights and juxtapositions; ’twas a little odd, to say the least, to see gryphons wielding wingblades! But the terms of the exchange were that both sides train and learn to fight as the other does. And that means a continent away, select ponies are likewise being trained on crossbows and scimitars.

Of course, as Ambassador Kaval and I were present, our reputations preceded us and we could not escape requests to spar. In truth, it had been a while, so we acquiesced, donning armor and engaging in a duel. Though the Ambassador is fifteen years older than I and now in his early sixties, he keeps himself in fine fighting shape, and our latest battle was, if perchance not as epic as our clashes once were, still a ferocious affair. Methinks ’tis something I have picked up from gryphons in general and the Ambassador in particular to not hold back in even a sparring match, or ’tis taken as an insult; a statement of unworthiness to an opponent. For in the end, ’tis certain there are none more worthy than he.

Our duel lasted several minutes and we each ended up battered and bloodied for it, but in the end our mock battle ended as it seemed all our real ones did: in a draw with blades at each other’s throats, at which point we stopped and saluted each other to the raucous calls and cheers of all present. Methinks it left us reflecting again how many times we once tried to kill each other... and how many times we could not. ’Tis certain neither of us knew why during the course of the war it felt so important that the other live, but in time it became clear that ’twas to the great benefit of both sides that we did.

I thank you for such a... stimulating match, Captain, a far friendlier affair than the ones we once engaged in… to say nothing of more welcome for the fact we both seem to enjoy them immensely now, for both the duel itself and what seems to inevitably happen in its aftermath!

I did indeed offer the Sergeant Major my greatest respects and the Gryphon Kingdom’s highest military honor, and ’tis quite certain I was also pleased by the progress I saw in making the exchange program work, even if I did find it a little strange to be saluted by a gryphon in the pony manner! Though as an Ambassador I am no longer a soldier, I am still very much a warrior, and will remain so until the day I die.

But such days as this were unimaginable on the first day of the invasion, as we conducted operations not just on the border, but also launched several far-flung raids designed to cripple both Equestrian morale and ability to wage war from the start. Some operations, like the one on the Royal Navy Ursa base by the Celestial Sea went well, leaving the facility in ruin as we destroyed two airships and crippled a third. In others like the Fort Spur raid, we would inflict heavy damage and losses but ultimately fail to complete our objectives…

However, in the end, that target was more symbolic than substantive. For the latter, there was a third and far more major raid launched on one of Equestria’s most iconic cities. But that story, Captain, I will leave to your friends and comrades to tell.

—Layan Kaval

Indeed, Ambassador. And ’tis there our story goes next. This tale, too, has its share of tragedy and triumph… though the hero of the day would deny his worthiness of the title, were he still with us.

As the Ambassador explained, Fort Spur was not the only location deep within our borders to be attacked on that first day of war. Cloudsdale, too, would suffer a raid, the aim being to cripple our storm cloud production by destroying its weather factories. On that note, they would be partially successful, as the factories were indeed ruined and knocked out of action for months. Thankfully, however, most of the workers were spared, thanks almost entirely to the efforts of one pony, whose name is legend no less than mine.

That raid is what this chapter will only begin to tell. For its enormous scope, it must be told in multiple chapters from three different perspectives; three ponies who were sought out—or came forward—to give their insights into what happened in Equestria’s largest pegasus population center. With one exception, these ponies had little to do with the war itself beyond this. But their views are essential, as they directly witnessed the deeds of a pony without whom not just Cloudsdale but all Equestria might have fallen.

The tale is theirs to tell, but I feel I must say this much: the Empire sought to cripple Equestria’s military by destroying our ability to control the weather or create storm clouds. Instead, they awoke a demon that had lain dormant for years, a living weapon who was an even more effective warrior than I…

And far, far more dangerous for it.

—Firefly

A truer statement I’ve never heard, Captain. I thank you for seeking me out for my part of this tale, however insignificant it may be.

To you who now read this, know that my name is Virga Veil, and though I was once a Sergeant in the Aerial Corps, I was forced into an early retirement due to circumstances beyond my control. Readers of the previous volume may recall the IS-2 incident, where a pacifistic earth pony village was slaughtered by the brutal Lucavi raider group; its disarmed Aerial Corps defenders likewise slain almost to the last. As one of those defenders along with my commanding officer and good friend Thunderbolt, I was either fortunate or unfortunate, depending on your point of view, to survive the massacre, though not without crippling injury.

Perchance it is for the best I have no recollection of that day, given the horrors that occurred there. My last clear memory before it was speaking with then-Lieutenant Thunderbolt about a joint herd we’d planned on forming; indeed, we’d proposed to the mares just the week prior and intended to tender our resignations from the Corps within days. Such an arrangement with multiple stallions in the same herd is rare, but not unheard of in Equestria. ’Tis more common among stallion siblings to share, but as Thunderbolt and I had been close friends for years on end, brothers in all but name starting from basic, we were both confident we could make it work. Then… nothing.

When I finally woke up in the Cloudsdale hospital, ’twas to find two years passed, my intended mares dead, my right wing gone, and Thunderbolt but a shell of his former self; the sole survivor of that day besides me. I myself was, understandably, quite disoriented. What had happened? I’ve since read the reports, learned about both the massacre and its aftermath as Equestria engaged in a retaliatory operation to crush the Lucavi raider group called Operation Phoenix Fire, launching a limited invasion of Imperial lands with nearly eight thousand troops to destroy the Lucavi forces and their bases.

The operation was a success thanks in large measure to Thunderbolt, but all the same, ’twas almost fiction to me. How could this have happened? And why could I not remember any of it? The healers told me that the shock of the physical and emotional trauma I suffered that day resulted in significant damage to my mind, including my memory. Admittedly, this has merit, as I have trouble remembering details now and again… which is why I’m writing this with the aid of a unicorn healer with a memory recall spell.

After waking up from my two-year coma, I spent another year learning how to walk again under my own power. My muscles had atrophied severely from disuse, and it took time before I could leave the hospital… to say nothing of coming to terms with all that happened and the knowledge that I would never fly again; a crippling blow to a pegasus. Between that and the loss of my wing, I could no longer serve in the Corps, and so was dismissed with honors… including receiving both the Celestial Seal of Sacrifice, automatically granted to all dead and wounded soldiers, and the Dove of Fidelity, an unhappy but purely optional award to the sole survivors of attacks and ambushes.

Whilst I am technically not the only survivor of IS-2, I asked for it anyway, and ’twas granted. I now spend my days in Cloudsdale’s weather factory helping make rain clouds, as ’tis my special talent and something I do not require working wings or fully working memory to do.

’Tis in that factory that I pick up the tale Captain Firefly wishes me to tell. I only pray I can do it the justice it deserves.

Awakening

Cloudsdale
Weather Factory Raincloud Facility #5
September 1st, 1139 AC
1220 hours

Cliché though it is to say at this point in the story, September first began as but a normal day in Cloudsdale with nary an indication anything was amiss.

As was typical for that time of year, the city was drifting southeast towards the Appleachian Mountains, nearing its closest approach to the Pony/Gryphon border. But we were less worried about that then ramping up raincloud production for the all-important harvest season. We spent July and August drawing water from the Lunar Sea for that purpose, using it not just to quench the thirst of our eastern farms in advance of Autumn but to also deliver some rainfall to the thestral lands further south.

Every September, we would fill Lake Luna for them as part of their autonomy agreement with the Princess. In exchange for water and being otherwise left alone after their failed rebellion of three hundred years past, they paid yearly taxes and also kept watch over the wild lands of the Everfree; a job they were well-suited for. But such thoughts of the bat-ponies were lost as I rose, bathed, and dressed for work… and then met Thunderbolt for breakfast, as was our longtime custom.

I was grateful, as always, for his presence. He was a true friend to me, perchance the only one I had left after my ordeal. Ever since my awakening, Thunderbolt had taken pains to visit me regularly, though I did not understand why he collapsed and cried over my bed the first time he saw me awake. He visited me frequently after that, helping me recover, had even helped me find a home near the factory so I could walk there. At times we would talk about the past, about the mares we’d intended to herd together… though for the most part we studiously avoided talking about the events that had led to that plan falling through.

A powerful grey-furred and gold-maned pegasus who hadn’t seemed to have physically aged much in the twelve years since that ordeal, Thunderbolt had become a semi-regular fixture at the factory when he wasn’t teaching foals to fly at the Remedial Flight School, which was between sessions at that point. Methinks he did it because he preferred company to solitude, especially that of his sole surviving friend, not wishing to be alone with his oft dark and brooding thoughts. He wasn’t formally employed there and sought no pay for his services, but he aided me nonetheless with tasks I was not able to complete on my own, as he still had the power of flight. Whilst I would make the clouds, he would gather the vapors I needed, as well as send the finished products to the packaging line. As we worked, we talked as well, chatting about old times as always.

Today, though, seemed somehow different. “You seem on edge, Thunderbolt,” I noted as I passed him another finished rain cloud. ’Twas no idle observation; my friend had been unusually tense and distracted all morning, barely saying a word but sinking into a brooding expression for minutes at a time.

He started at my voice, looking up like he’d just remembered I was there. “My apologies, old friend,” he quickly told me, hefting the latest cloud up to the packaging window. “’Tis just… I have had this foreboding feeling all morning. I cannot help but feel something bad is happening.”

“Oh?” My own hackles were raised by his declaration. Were I a different pony, I might have thought him perchance paranoid, or at least overly cautious. However, I’d known Thunderbolt for years, even fought at his side against gryphon raiders twice before the IS-2 incident. His instincts for trouble were superb as he’d had similar premonitions before each such instance, including a particularly strong sense of them before IS-2. Knowing such, I frowned, wondering what he was picking up on this time. “Do you believe there’s trouble on the border?” was the only immediate thought that came to mind. “Twould be hard to believe after Celestia’s ultimatum.”

He considered the question, then shook his head. “I know not what to believe,” he replied after a moment, his eyes and ears now swiveling in every direction as if scanning for threats, sensing danger closing in. “I just feel that something is terribly wrong. That great peril approaches as we speak.”

For him to say such a thing was enough for my own sense of foreboding and long-dormant combat instincts to kick in, but one of the nearby workers who had overheard us, a mare barely old enough to be called such, snorted. “Please, Thunderbolt. You wouldst do well not to believe in premonitions. We’re six hundred miles from the border, and even were we closer, the Princess made clear she’d deal with the gryphons quite harshly if they tried anything,” she pointed out with a roll of her eyes.

“’Tis true...” Thunderbolt granted, and even I couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Word of the infamous ultimatum the Princess gave the Empire following a series of border raids had filtered down through word-of-muzzle by this point; we’d heard the full story from friends we both still had in the Aerial Corps, one of whom had taken direct part in the parley it was delivered during. He had told us the tale with no little satisfaction over a round of cider, leaving us both wistfully wishing we’d been there to see it ourselves. “And yet...”

“And yet, nothing. For even if they did have designs on us, what could they do?” she countered, completely unconcerned. “Think about it. We are well back from the border, well-defended by militia, and methinks the gryphons would not dare launch so brazen a raid so deep into Equestria, especially under threat of annihilation as the Princess gave them. So what possible reason is there to worry?” the mare asked dismissively, turning back to her work.

She received her answer scarcely a second later when a crossbow bolt went right through her neck, severing her spine and slaying her instantly. Seconds later, alarms and a never-heard citywide call-to-arms sounded through the factory as windows and doors were smashed inward, multiple feathered and taloned forms flying through. Despite not having seen them for years, I recognized them immediately as gryphons. Worse, I realized from the grey fur and feather dye and light leather armor they wore that these were not raiders or even Talons, but a highly trained team of Ravens, deadly warriors of shadow who were in the employ of the Empire’s feared intelligence service, the Office of Owls.

Several ponies screamed and bolted for the exits, only to be cut down by their expert aim with their crossbows or the occasional thrown blade. They moved with brutal efficiency and within seconds had secured our facility and slain all within sight. At the squawked order of their leader, some searched for hiding ponies; others began embedding a series of crystal bombs through the facility, intended to destroy it outright, and ’twas then I realized what was happening for them to be attacking our weather factory—invasion; they were trying to destroy our storm cloud production in order to win a war with us, which meant not just obliterating the facility but slaying the workers that could rebuild it after.

Knowing that fleeing would be futile, Thunderbolt and I hid in a side room with several other workers, shepherding them in quickly though we know full well ’twould only provide temporary respite. “Methinks I hate it when you’re right,” I muttered whilst the other workers cowered and sobbed, praying they would not be found and knowing we had no means to defend ourselves. Weather factory workers were not soldiers and the factory itself kept no weapons at hoof...

At least, none in the traditional sense. “As do I, in this instance,” Thunderbolt growled, a gleam growing in his eyes as he moved to guard the door with me—once a soldier, always a soldier. “That they would strike this deep into Equestria…” Methinks he understood the implications as well as I.

“Thunderbolt, we need a plan,” I said, casting about for a means to barricade the door and wishing the factory kept weapons lockers as Naval airships did, as I heard the Ravens searching for more ponies to kill, getting closer all the time. “We need a plan, and weapons,” I amended my statement in a low voice, knowing full well we wouldn’t stay hidden forever. In fact, given the Ravens were starting a systematic search of the facility, we had minutes before they found us at most, at which point our life expectancy might be measured in moments.

’Twas then that I got a good look at Thunderbolt’s face; ’twas all I could do not to recoil from what I saw. Suddenly, the reports I’d read of the ‘demon’ he’d become in the wake of disaster sounded far more plausible; rage and bloodlust growing within his gaze. ’Twas said he’d been unkillable and unstoppable whilst hunting down the Lucavi in the Phoenix Fire operation; and though I’d known him to be a superb soldier, the reports of his skill and sheer savagery were almost impossible to believe.

“The plan is that I’m going to slay every single one of those chickenhawks who dared enter this city and spilled pony blood,” he replied in an equally low voice; from the lack of any sort of warmth in it, I knew he was not only deadly serious, but ’twas fully within his power to carry out his threat. “I will deal with them. Stay hidden and do not interfere…” he warned us all, and then, without hesitation, opened the door and stepped out of the room, exposing himself fully, inviting attack.

“Thunderbolt!” I whispered to him frantically, wondering if he was insane or had a death wish—the latter, I sometimes felt, was all too plausible with him given how he sometimes spoke. “Get BACK!”

But far from listening, he stepped to the center of the room in full view, calling to our assailants in their own tongue: [“GRYPHONS! Listen and take heed! I am former Lieutenant Thunderbolt of the Equestrian Aerial Corps!”] he told them as they stared at him incredulously. [“If you know who I am, then you know what I can DO! So I offer you one chance at survival! Leave Cloudsdale immediately, and I will NOT slay every last one of you!”]. I knew the Gryphon language of Aeric as well, having learned it alongside him when he was studying to enter the Equestrian Officer Academy.

Far from intimidated, the Ravens erupted in laughter at him in a rare loss of discipline. [“Lieutenant Thunderbolt, you say? Then you are the so-called ‘Lightning Demon’ who slaughtered the Lucavi? Methinks I am unimpressed, pegasus!”] their leader, a sky gryphon eagless who wore the subdued rank insignia of a Second Spear, spoke with a sneer. [“Perchance you are under some strange delusion as to your odds, so allow me to enlighten you: you are unarmed, woefully outnumbered, and face elite assassins, not wretched raiders this time! I would humor you with a duel so you might see how outmatched you are, but time is short. We are on a schedule, so slay this fool and check the room behind him for others, Akil!”] she ordered one of her subordinates, pointedly turning away from him in an expression of her disdain.

[“By your command, leader!”] ‘Akil’ obeyed instantly, swooping down on him. She then all but sauntered up to him, speaking in smug tones. [“So you speak our language, Equestrian? Then do you know the meaning of our expression ‘spearing fish in a barrel?’”] she asked as she went nose to nose with him, frowning as she saw not a single flinch or flicker of fear in him at her approach. [“No? Then allow me to DEMONSTRATE!”] She lunged at his chest with a long knife in a rapid and well-practiced thrust that would have stabbed through the heart of anybody else, killing them instantly…

And then looked down in shock and horror to realize the knife was embedded in her own chest, her attack turned back on her by a well-timed hoof strike to her wrist that had knocked the blade from her grasp, turned it over in mid-air, and landed it in the same hoof, which then sunk it into her body, all in a single smooth motion! All of it had taken less than a second; as it had been but a blur when it happened, I had to ask my unicorn healer helping me write this to play the memory back repeatedly to understand exactly how he had done it and how much he had accomplished in that one instant!

[“As it happens, I DO know…”] Thunderbolt told her, his voice ice-cold as he twisted the blade into her heart; her beak agape and eyes betraying sheer terror as she realized at that moment she was slain, unable to draw breath or even scream. [“Now let me show you just how MUCH I know!”] With that, he ripped the knife from her body in a spray of blood and then threw it at the Raven leader that had so foalishly turned her back on him, the spinning blade finding the base of her wing, severing the nerves and sending her crashing to the ground.

Shouts of alarm and anger erupted all around us as the remaining Ravens in the room turned their full attention on him. But by that time he had drawn the slain Raven’s scimitar from its back scabbard and was now wielding it in his mouth as he took flight, exchanging blows with a second surprised Raven in the air, who methinks lasted scarcely longer than the first, managing just two parries of his purloined sword before he took her head off with it. He then used her headless body as a shield to charge the others, grabbing two more blades from her belt and killing a third, then a fourth Raven with them—they did not wear more than light leather armor, emphasizing speed over strength, and here it cost them when faced with an opponent even swifter and more skilled than they.

Scrambling backwards and realizing their blades were useless against an opponent of such awful ability, the last two unwounded gryphon assassins went for their gems and crossbows, but Thunderbolt countered by generating a miniature twister with his wings and flinging it at them, rendering them blind from the sudden gale and unable to aim, tossing in a pouch full of gems from the decapitated eagless inside the funnel after triggering one. ’Twas a shock gem, and it set the rest off in a cacophony of flashes, sparks, and outright explosions, shredding their bodies almost instantly.

’Twas amazing, if not outright terrifying to watch, how savagely and efficiently he slew them all, taking down an entire Raven team in bare seconds—methinks not even the best of the Black Lances could manage such a feat! He saved the leader for last, who was wounded by the blade in her back but had found a hostage, standing shakily on her hind legs as she held her sword to the throat of a sobbing young mare.

[“Stay back!”] she ordered him in a near-panic, her eyes betraying no little fear as he continued to stalk nearer, his head lowered like a predator, a demon of vengeance approaching her with the promise of certain death in his gaze. [“I’ll kill her!”] she then threatened in a shrill voice. [“I swear it!”]

[“I care not,”] he informed her in icy tones, continuing his deliberate approach, and a chill went through me as I realized that at the moment, he very much meant it. [“Just ask the Lucavi.”]

She must have seen the truth of it in his eyes, for at that moment, she flung her hostage at him and attempted to escape out an open door under the cover of a smoke gem, but Thunderbolt simply batted the mare aside none too gently, dispersed the smoke with a wave of his wing, then took flight after her, dodging first her crossbow and then her thrown blades once, twice, and finally a third time before he caught her and simply snapped her neck with a sickening crack, letting her broken body fall to the factory floor.

“Thunderbolt!” I called to him, stepping out but afraid to approach him for all I had just witnessed. “Are you…?”

He stared at the final corpse he’d created for a moment before replying. “I am undone…” he told me quietly. “For twelve years I have fought it. For twelve years I have suppressed it. For twelve years I have feared what I could become again. But now…?”

He raised his eyes to me, showing me the pain and rage within them; yet something else was there as well. An emotion that terrified me more than any other I saw from him that day…

Pure, unadulterated joy.

“Now the demon is unleashed. Now with war upon us, I am free to kill again. And methinks I could not be happier for it!”

* * * * *

Before continuing my part in this tale, I must take a deep mental breath and explain a few things; not the least of which is how all of this was even possible for my old friend.

To begin with, it must be understood that Thunderbolt had never been a Black Lance, an Armored Guardspony or any other elite soldier. Nor had he undergone any EIS or PSD programs that might have explained his all but otherworldly combat skills. In the end, he was just a standard Corps soldier with no special training, though to be sure, soldiers and especially stallions don’t become officers without being very skilled fighters.

Though certainly a potent warrior before, ’twas nothing compared to what he had become. For what he did possess aside from an affinity for lightning were incredible combat instincts powered by nearly uncontrollable anger and bloodlust; an insatiable addiction to violence that left him with an overwhelming desire to fight and kill. He once told me that when he saw our mares slain before him, several dying to save him, something snapped inside him. ’Twas as if, he said, an internal barrier had broken and all of the sudden he had no combat inhibitions left, nothing left to defend and no reasons to hold back…

No reasons not to kill. “Methinks my mind, my body, and my very soul remade themselves at that moment,” he explained to me during one of the very few times we discussed what had happened. “Every instinct, every thought, every motion, and indeed, everything I did from that point forward was directed towards one thing—avenging the massacre I endured and slaying all responsible. And to that end… I gave up all honor and compassion to become not a soldier, but a merciless killer who slew all before him, not caring in the least who he hurt and worse… not discriminating between friend or foe, soldier or civilian.”

He told me that after several mugs of ale one night, and ’twas proven here to be no idle boast—for as at least one after-action report said following Phoenix Fire, ’twas as if he was born to kill, as he did so quite easily and fluidly; even elite warriors of shadow like the Ravens could not stand against him. “I cannot explain it except to say that I know how to slay every opponent I face instantly and instinctively; I see their moves even before they enter their own minds. And none can stand against me for it. Every sense, every desire and every thought process I now have is directed towards combat and killing, and ’tis why I dare not go back to it, ever,” he told me, his ale mug shaking in his hoof. “’Tis a great and terrible gift with an equally horrific price. For in gaining it, I also acquired an unquenchable addiction to battle and bloodletting, and thus, should I ever return to it… I fear I will be lost to the demon within me forever.”

As much as we needed that demon then, I could only pray he was wrong and my friend would come back to me after. But before then, there was a city to save and a thousand gryphon soldiers to deal with were we to survive this first day of war.

Though I have more of this tale to tell, you will forgive me, Captain, if I prefer to pass the pen for now. Methinks you will understand if I simply need to be alone with my thoughts and memories for a bit.

Methinks I do indeed understand, and will do so. I thank you for agreeing to write this, old friend of an old friend, and I can only marvel at the events you describe. No matter how many times I saw his capabilities in combat, ’twas certain I was endlessly amazed—and oft appalled—by them. Let none doubt that in terms of sheer killing ability, he was the best—and in some ominous and terrifying ways, the worst—of us, his skill in battle even exceeding my own. His struggle was constant to keep his soul intact and not be completely consumed by his demons, especially as we lost ground later, but thankfully, in the end, he was able to conquer them… though ’tis certain it came at wrenching cost to us all.

But that story lies in the future. The next chapter will continue the story of the Great Battle of Cloudsdale, and Thunderbolt’s role in it. But as Sergeant Virga does not, for now, wish to write further given all he witnessed that day, two other ponies will take up the quill to continue the tale.

If I could ask but one thing of all readers at this point, ’twould be to reflect upon what war does to those who take part in it; how it twists and traumatizes them, sometimes turning them into unrecognizable shadows of their former selves. None are immune to this, myself included, and despite my own love of battle, ’tis certain I bear my own scars from it, both physical and emotional to this day.

—Firefly

The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. —G.K. Chesterton.

Author's Note

If there is any theme to my overall writing, whether clopfic or war epic, it’s balance. Between action and downtime, good times and bad, tragedy and triumph. I’m not interested in wall-to-wall horror; that’s why I sought to balance, or at least cushion Thunderbolt’s first appearance by giving everyone a glimpse of what ponies like he and Firefly eventually won despite how bad it looked early. Nevertheless, what happened to Thunderbolt is not in the least bit pretty, nor is what he willingly became in the aftermath.

However, there is an important difference between then and now, which may change everything for him, eventually. He snapped because he lost everything he had; everypony he loved was slain before him. Twelve years, on, however... that’s no longer the case; he does have those he’s close to and cares about again from Virga to the young colts and fillies he trains at the Remedial Flyers’ school. How will they affect him and how might he be different now for it? Is it even possible for one such as him to find redemption...?

Food for thought. In the meantime, thanks as always to my loyal prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, Silent Woodfire, and Denim_Blue, and to co-author Leo Archon for contributing a large chunk of the Thunderbolt section.

The War Begins: 9 - The Will to Fight

When Princess Celestia first asked me to write this account of my life and the war to follow, ‘twas only with greatest reluctance I agreed to.

In truth, I dreaded the memories and awakened emotions doing so was likely to generate within me; all the anger and fear, sorrow and rage, defeat and despair I felt far too often during those years of war. And yet, ‘twould seem I had forgotten that there were other, equally powerful emotions at play as well. Happiness and joy. Passion and pride. Triumph and glory. The sheer rush of battle and victory…

Indeed, I had in some ways forgotten that through all the death and destruction; through all the battles I fought, with not my fate but that of my very nation resting on a wingblade’s edge, ‘twas only during those battles that I felt the most alive and the deepest of bonds were built.

War creates hate, but it also forges equally powerful friendships; creates comrades and lovers surprisingly readily, drawing both individuals and societies and even entire nations closer together. For as much of the world as it eventually involved, ‘twas a war to end all wars some said we fought, yet when the bloodshed ended, the alliances and friendships we forged remained. I would never say I was glad the war came, but I am glad for most of its outcomes, which advanced the cause of harmony between races throughout the world.

But such is obvious only in the hindsight the decades since can provide. For far worse outcomes were not just possible, but indeed seemed all too likely throughout the course of the conflict…

And on the very first day of the war, one of them was the destruction of the Cloudsdale Weather Factory and the death of all who worked there. Cloudsdale is vast and the factory itself quite sprawling, employing nearly a thousand workers, the city’s iconic industry and arguably the most essential one for Equestria’s existence. ‘Tis little wonder then, that the gryphons targeted it immediately, sending nearly two millennia of soldiers to see to its destruction.

You have seen the start of the attack from Thunderbolt’s friend. Now I invite you to witness it from another point of view, and reflect on the desperate actions of those who were not soldiers as they struggled to survive the unthinkable...

That those who lived were not those who waited for rescue but acted to save themselves.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain. Hello, followers of this tale. I am Morning Glory, younger sister of Fell Flight, her junior by six years. We share the same sire, but not the same mother, and perchance that is why I had not her fighting blood or nocturnal nature, nor any particular inclination to eat meat. I was then and once again am now a weather worker, as had all of members of our family been before Fell Flight decided to be the first soldier of our line. But she was assuredly not the last, as I would follow in her wingbeats for the events to be described, answering Equestria’s call to arms... though in truth, with the weather factory destroyed and many near and dear to me dead, there was little else I could do in the aftermath of that awful first day of war.

The story I will now relate is a far more common one for the survivors that day; a story of how, with no soldiers to protect us at first, we survived the surprise attack and eventually fought back not with spears or swords, but using that which we knew best and had ready access to…

The weather.

—Sky Sergeant Morning Glory
Head of Storm Cloud Production
Cloudsdale Weather Factory
Cloudsdale

‘Twas a day I will never forget, but one that began as Thunderbolt’s friend previously described—completely calm with no hint of danger on the horizon; a late summer day the same as any other. I awoke at sunrise to my mother and the other mares of my father’s herd making us all breakfast; we ate and dressed and otherwise got ready for the day. Once my sire had seen my youngest sister Heat Wave off to school, we then flew out to the factory, though we soon parted with a hug to go to our separate jobs. Though my parents and indeed, most of my parents’ herd worked in the winter weather department, creating and stockpiling icy winds and snow clouds, I worked in the Rainbow Factory, where we created and maintained the city’s iconic rainbow falls and even packaged them for export to other places like Canterlot.

‘Twas work I enjoyed, though I still hoped for a transfer one day to the Storm Department, where specially screened and trained workers generated military-grade lightning clouds for the Equestrian Aerial Corps and Cloudsdale Militia. ‘Twas not only higher-paying and more prestigious work, but in an indirect way, I thought I would be helping my older sister, who I admired greatly. Her many martial feats meant her name was now well-known throughout Cloudsdale and great favor fell upon our family for it…

Rather ironic given how resoundingly its citizens once rejected her for her thestral heritage and how our entire herd suffered for it.

But even then, that was long in the past, and I spared it no thought that cool and sunny morning. The first half of the workday passed normally, at least until our lunch shift neared. Weather factory workers ate in four half-hour shifts starting at 11am and ending at 1pm, though they rotated the shifts amongst the various departments from month to month. For September, the Rainbow Factory was given the latest time slot at 12:30, so ‘twas at 12:15 that we were just starting to pause our operations. ‘Twas said that cafeteria was serving Cloud Creole that day, a Neigh Orleans specialty and worker favorite, and methinks our biggest fear to that point was that they would be little left for us in the last shift.

Unfortunately, we soon learned that lunch was the least of our worries as citywide alarms and a never-before-heard call to arms sounded just before many hundreds of gryphon soldiers descended on the city and factory. We had no warning before that, and we knew not what to do anyway; in fact, methinks we did not understand what was happening and how dire our straits truly were until the Ravens appeared and began cutting us down.

The difference was, like far too many others, we had no soldier of Thunderbolt’s stature to protect us; all we could do was lock ourselves in our workplaces or smaller side rooms and pray for rescue as alarms continued to shriek throughout the factory and city. What we didn’t know was that the Knights had already besieged both the small Corps garrison that adjoined the factory and the main militia base on the other end of Cloudsdale that was supposed to be the city’s primary defense, standing watch as the Ravens began their deadly work throughout the sprawling weather factory, paying particular attention, as it turned out, to the storm cloud plants, as they were military facilities defended by soldiers. But the other buildings were not neglected; ‘twas clearly their intention to destroy the entirety of the complex and with it Equestria’s ability to control the weather, depriving us of not just our storm cloud supply but even our ability to so much as water our crops.

Given that our purpose was more ornamental than functional, the Rainbow Factory was understandably not a primary target of the gryphons, so they did not reach us right away. That meant we had some chance to take cover, quickly barricading ourselves inside the sealed and windowless rainbow mixing room once we heard the alarms and realized what was happening, shoving tables and other furniture up against the doorways. Though pegasi were historically a warrior race and Equestria’s air force dating back to the days of antiquity we had no training, no weapons... and ‘twould seem, no hope.

Into the Fire

‘Tis no secret that Pegasi have a long and proud martial past, dating back to the days of Commander Hurricane and the Royal Legion. Much like the gryphons, pride in our history and warrior heritage are drummed into us from birth, and not without reason given the many battles and wars we have fought over the past several millennia, to say nothing of the warrior-heroes they produced.

‘Tis worth noting we had our own imperial phase in times of antiquity, forging an empire called “The Enclave” that lasted several centuries, and even following the tribal unification that gave birth to Equestria, ‘tis our race who have oft bore the the bulk of the fighting—and suffered the brunt of casualties—in Equestria’s wars. It is thus said by some that all pegasi are of warrior stock, fully capable of fighting, and that any attempt to conquer Cloudsdale in face of its populace would end in disaster for an attacker.

Try telling that to the thousand or more gryphons that descended on the Cloudsdale weather factory on the first day of the war. The lie of that belief was proven when all we could initially do was hide and flee, praying not to be found as nearly two hundred grey-dyed Ravens came calling, hunting us down without hesitation or mercy. We were workers, not warriors; we never expected we would come to work that day only to find ourselves in a fight for our very lives. We had no weapons or martial training, and up against feared foes like the Knights or Ravens we had no chance, able only to cower and conceal ourselves wherever we could.

So we did. Though we in the Rainbow Factory were initially ignored, they did indeed finally come calling for us within just a few minutes; we heard their harsh Aeric speech outside and talon clacks on the floor followed by the scraping sounds of them placing crystal charges on the walls and doors. They clearly intended to breach the room and once they did… whatever improvised defense we had would not avail us against trained warriors of such terrible skill; ‘twas certain we were as good as dead.

There were about forty of us there, most cowering but the bravest among us brandishing whatever blunt items they could find, ranging from metal pipe pieces to mops from a janitor’s closet. A few suggested trying to hold them back with wind from our wings, but most of us could barely generate a breeze. Nor were there any clouds we could fire lighting from, and truth be told, unless you were practiced in doing so, triggering a cloud to release its bolts could be as much a danger to you as your target.

Our options were few, and our time was short. “They’re coming through!” one of my coworkers shrieked as we heard the first charges go off as they tried to break the door down with explosive gems but failed, finding it surprisingly difficult to get through—a necessary precaution not against attack, but against an accident, as I will explain shortly—then trying again, this time targeting the hinges.

We had perchance a minute remaining, and another frantic glance around the room showed that there was little we could use to defend ourselves; all we had at our immediate disposal were the rainbow mixing vats and our safety gear for working with them…

... and ‘twas then an idea occurred to me.

Before we continue, an explanation is in order for those ponies who are not pegasi or are otherwise simply unfamiliar with how weather control works.

To begin with, it must be understood that the Cloudsdale Weather Factory makes far more than rain, snow, or storm clouds. We can create and store in isolation any aspect of weather including wind, cold or warm fronts, lightning... and of course, rainbows.

‘Twas in the last, surprisingly, that lay our potential salvation, and I quickly told my coworkers an idea for how we could use them. Rainbows are beautiful, and Cloudsdale’s signature rainbow falls are a popular tourist attraction for visiting unicorns and earth ponies, who are able to walk among us once they have taken a cloudwalking potion or had the spell it contains cast on them. But rainbow creation is not simple or straightforward, requiring special care—the magical components that make them up are somewhat volatile and requires a degree of eye and breathing protection to be around, as the fumes are in fact quite caustic.

Concentrated rainbow essence, in fact, is oft used as a pegasus food spice and has just recently begun to be marketed as a rather potent hot sauce to earth ponies and unicorns—one that you’re only supposed to use a few drops of at a time in any given food recipe. Indeed, ‘tis certain I’ll never forget the one time in her mid-teens that Fell Flight accepted a dare from several colts to drink a small bottle of it and ended up in agony for hours afterwards…

Thank you for reminding me of that, my dear Glory, as well as the severe digestive discomfort and loss of taste I suffered for days afterwards! ‘Twas my own fault, though. As you well know, I simply couldn’t resist a dare or challenge back then. I was a firecracker, as the minotaurs say, full of fight and possessing a constant need to prove myself, even over foalish bets like that.

—Fell Flight

Methinks I would say no less now, my sister! But in truth, I always admired you for your ability to pursue your dreams and not let anything stand in their way. You knew all along you were meant for more than weather work, and you proved it by becoming one of the greatest ponies who ever lived, both in war and in the peace that followed. ‘Tis certain our parents would be very proud of you for all you have accomplished and all you overcame. I do wish you would come home to Cloudsdale more often, though...

I do owe you more frequent visits, but Cloudsdale is no longer my home, dear Glory. You wouldst understand that my memories of that place are generally unpleasant ones given the bullying and bigotry I endured, to say nothing of the outright disfavor my thestral eyes brought us all during my upbringing. I greatly prefer to remain with my bat-pony brethren and herd in the Canterlot Conclave as much as possible, helping them to assimilate back into Equestrian society. I would also point out you owe me a visit there yourself! My foals wish to see their ‘Auntie Glory’ again, though methinks that is more due to the toys and Cloudsdale cakes you bring them. You spoil them, you know!

—Fell Flight

Auntie’s prerogative, my dear sister. Auntie’s prerogative. As they lack grandparents, I feel that the duty to spoil them rotten falls to me. And I know you worry about their reception should you bring them to Cloudsdale, given how badly your own mixed pegasus and thestral heritage got you bullied as a foal, but as we now have gryphons and even an adolescent dragon or two living amongst us, I believe you might be pleasantly surprised.

It took but two minutes to throw our desperate plan into motion... which was quite fortunate, because two minutes was all we had.

Emptying the gear lockers, the forty of us who had sheltered there donned our protective masks and goggles as we smashed the safeties and deliberately threw open all the valves on the mixing tanks, causing additional alarms to go off as they began to release their liquids and multi-colored vapors, soon saturating the air around us and causing some coughing from a few who had not obtained a proper mask seal in their panic. Thus, when the Ravens finally breached the room on their third try—two teams of seven grey-dyed gryphons came charging in through a freshly-made hole in the ceiling as well as the entry door—they were immediately met with a surge of brightly-colored smoke we helped along with wind from our wings, forcing it into their eyes and lungs.

A single breath and the ones who initially entered were incapacitated, clawing at their eyes and staggering back, unable to see or strike. Most of their crossbow shots went wild as a few even vomited, though a scream told me at least one of my coworkers was hit. Recognizing the danger, they tried to withdraw but couldn’t see well enough to do so, a few swinging blindly with their swords to fend us off whilst the ones at the rear slipped back out the door to rinse out their eyes from a canteen and don their flight goggles. They then poured water on their scarves and wrapped them around their beaks, intent on completing their mission and visibly livid at the tactics we had just used against them; I didn’t need to know their language to understand they were swearing bloody vengeance upon us.

We’d bought ourselves time and a momentary advantage, but ‘twas certain if we did not make use of it immediately, it was going to disappear. My coworkers still stood frozen, but recognizing our lives now depended on whether we could seize the chance before us, I asked myself:

What would Fell Flight do?

Will to Fight

With a silent prayer to Celestia, as well as an apology to my sister and herd were my next actions to get me killed—and what of our parents and other herdmates, working at different places throughout the factory? Were they safe?—I took flight and shot forward with another only half-formed plan, fearful that if I thought too much about it, I would lose my nerve. With thoughts of my sister steeling my resolve, I tackled the nearest Raven eagless in midair to her startled squawk, slamming her to the ground as I went for the sheathed knife I could just see on her belt. But she sensed my intention and pecked hard at me, one set of talons wrapping around my forehoof and digging in painfully and twisting it as she tried to throw me off her despite her inability to see or breathe, her other paw going for my throat.

And given just a few seconds, her training in unarmed combat meant she’d unquestionably succeed. ”Help me!” I begged my coworkers, who didn’t immediately move. “We won’t live unless we fight! Charge them!” I shouted, and that seemed to break the spell as at last, they did so, and within seconds twenty pegasus weather workers fell upon five choking Raven warriors and proceeded to pummel them beneath an onslaught of hooves and blunt items, soon rendering them unconscious or worse. We’d barely finished before their teammates reentered with their own improvised protective gear, firing crossbows and tossing in a pair of gems ahead of them within our midst.

”Scatter!” I called out in a panic as two of my coworkers took bolts to the chest and fell screaming or dead, my eyes going wide as I recognized the danger—Fell Flight had shown me the knife and a couple of (magically disarmed) gryphon-made explosive gems she’d taken off a raider she’d killed while rescuing a series of kidnapped earth pony families years earlier—so with adrenaline rushing through me I simply hefted and threw the beaten body of the first Raven on top of the nearest gem, which shredded it when it went off, sending blood and body parts flying everywhere but otherwise not harming us… except perchance psychologically as we were showered with blood. The second gem went off near several of my coworkers, peppering them with fragments and sending several to the floor injured.

Two could play at that game, however, as I went for the gem-filled belt pouches on another Raven’s fallen form, triggered one (Fell Flight had also shown me how it worked; you just pressed down on one end and then twisted it until it popped up) and tossed it towards the entrance. It turned out to be a shock gem as a series of crackling electric arcs went off close enough to cause my mane hairs to stand on end and snared the two Ravens outside; they simply didn’t see it coming through the smoke and their partially fogged goggles and fell unconscious to the ground, twitching hard.

‘Twas an enormous stroke of luck, I reflected later, that the first one I grabbed hadn’t been a smoke or flash gem, which wouldn’t have slowed them down much, but whether by fate, fortune or just sheer dumb luck, we’d somehow defeated the first Raven team. “Tie them up! And get their gems and weapons!” I directed, not sure how I’d ended up the leader—perhaps a little of your commanding manner did run in the family, Sister?—as I drew a sheathed Raven sword and tried to wield in my mouth, only to find it too heavy and clumsy, passing it to a stronger stallion. Their long knives were another matter, however, as I drew and took a few experimental swipes with one, wondering if I could kill.

I would get my answer all too soon as one of the unsecured gryphons began to move, and I panicked, rearing up and bringing the knife down as hard as I could into his back, repeatedly stabbing where I thought his heart might be. He screamed and tried to roll away but I did enough damage that he finally died, bleeding out on the ground before me.

It all happened so fast I had little chance to consider what I was doing, but afterwards I dropped the blade in shock as everypony stared at me, forced to remove my mask so I could throw up. The traumas of the day already taking their toll on me, I wanted nothing more than to just curl myself up into a ball at that moment and turn my mind off, faint dead away so I wouldn’t have to think about what I’d just done. For even if I survived that day, ‘twas no doubt in my mind I was going to see the moment I took a life in both my dreams and waking hours for the rest of my days.

But there was no time. There was no time, and there was still a second Raven team outside, threatening to come through the ceiling. I didn’t know why they hadn’t already until suddenly a dead gryphon body fell through the ceiling hole, her body impaled gruesomely on her own sword. I heard one or two more gryphon screams, then nothing more until a whirlwind formed over the hole in the ceiling, sucking out all the acidic fumes.

Expecting the worst, we immediately brandished our stolen weapons, but instead of another gryphon, a bloodied pegasus stallion flew in and looked around, holding a blade in his mouth and two borrowed belts of Raven throwing blades and gem pouches around his barrel. As his gleaming eyes immediately locked onto the beaten Raven forms below, I saw something approaching impressed in his gaze as he put the pieces together of what we’d done to save ourselves, a strange smile cracking his face. I knew who he was—we all did. Lieutenant Thunderbolt, mentor of Fell Flight, survivor of the Inland Shores massacre and hero of the Phoenix Fire operation; a pony who had declined all decoration for his deeds and had instead left the Corps afterwards to follow more peaceful pursuits.

We had no idea how woefully incomplete that version of events was then, but an education was soon to follow. “Defeated them with Rainbow fumes. I approve,” he informed us, then abruptly turned and threw a blade that found a stirring Raven, killing him instantly to our shock. “I cannot stay, but I will dispatch soldiers to this place as soon as I find them, and in the meantime I will be sending any rescued or wounded ponies here,” he informed us as his friend, Sergeant Virga led in a fresh procession of ponies from an adjacent building, the former now armed with blades of his own. “I suppose we will need at least a few prisoners and these will do. However…” To our horror, he methodically slashed the wingbase and lower limb tendons of each to cripple them, eliciting several shrieks and leaving me suddenly wondering who was the greater danger to us when I saw the icy look in his eyes...

A look that was shortly turned on me. “You,” he called to me, perchance recognizing from my bloodied blade beside me and trembling form what I’d just done. “Step forward,” he directed, and despite my state, his manner and tone was such that I obeyed instantly, as if I was one of his soldiers…

And perchance at that point, I was. “What is your name?” he asked me, his voice ungentle.

“M-Morning G-Glory…” I told him, my voice breaking.

He stared at me for a moment. “You are Fell Flight’s younger sister, are you not?” he asked me without a shred of sympathy, perchance recognizing me from the one time he’d visited our home.

“Y-Yes…” I told him, ashamed of myself, averting my eyes from his, understanding only then what my sister did and how unsuited I was for it. “B-but I am not her…”

In response, he then plucked the knife I’d used from the floor and inspected it. “‘Tis a good blade,” he told me, resheathing it and then offering it back to me. “And one that will serve you well. Do not hesitate to use it. Do not hesitate to kill. For this is war, and if you are to live, you must fight!” He shoved the blade back into my grasp when I didn’t immediately take it, then raised his voice for all us to hear.

“Heed my words and heed them well, fellow pegasi! As of this moment, you are soldiers, not civilians, and you have but two choices! You may lay down and die as the pacifist ponies of the Inland Shores settlements once did, refusing to even raise so much as a hoof in your own defense, or you can stand and fight as my disarmed soldiers did against the Lucavi there, exacting as high a price as possible and refusing to give up even in the face of impossible odds! Make your choice and make it quickly, for the gryphons intend to destroy this factory and slay all inside!” he said as more worker refugees arrived, some helping the wounded and others dragging salvaged rain clouds behind them.

Clouds he then made kneading motions into, darkening their surface as he somehow turned them into storm clouds, charging them with electricity. “If the Ravens return, use these to defend the entrance. We have more clouds outside and many more gryphons to slay! I ask all ponies willing and able to fight to join me, but know there are no guarantees of survival, either out there or in here!” he informed us bluntly. “Their numbers are vast and ours are presently few. So I ask for the brave and bold to come forth; for those ponies willing to lay down their lives for Cloudsdale and all Equestria to do so! Will any of you fight?” he asked as he stalked down the ragged line of my coworkers, but nopony immediately moved to do so, several looking away.

After a few seconds, he made a show of giving up. “‘Twould appear pegasi have gotten soft and forgotten their own history. I am disappointed but not surprised. So be it,” he sneered, turning on his wing to leave. “’Tis certain I will die, but I will fight them alone and kill as many as I can before falling.”

“W-wait!” I called after him. I was scared—terrified, even—but in the end, he was right: I was Fell Flight’s sister and I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing; not when she was likely fighting for her life far out on the frontier and after so many of my friends and coworkers had likely already been slain here. “I will fight!” I told him, wincing at my own breaking voice, stepping forward to present myself.

“And I…” a stallion stepped forth a second later, to gasps from his mares, brandishing a Raven scimitar in his mouth. “For my friends and for my herd!”

“If h-he’s fighting, we’re fighting!” his herdmates followed, perchance hoping to protect him.

“M-me too!” his friend spoke up.

“And me…” the youngest mare amongst us offered next.

With that, the dam broke, and most of my coworkers stepped up. “Much better…” Thunderbolt gave a thin smile. “Then our time is short, so listen and listen well…”

Defenders of Harmony

Over the next several minutes, Thunderbolt organized us into an improvised platoon of three squads, two of standard soldiers and one of scratch storm teams. Two of my coworkers had militia experience, so he made them squad leaders, gave us each an array of borrowed weapons and storm clouds and told us our main task was to defend cleared areas and support him in his work. I couldn’t fathom how he planned to take them all on himself, but there was something very scary in his eyes and manner that told me he could. Methinks that in the end, I was afraid not to obey him.

When we got outside, my guts clenched at the sights and sounds of battle. Smoke was rising from many buildings, several had already been engulfed in flames or destroyed, and worse, judging by all the bodies in the area, the Ravens had hit the cafeteria first for its concentration of workers at lunch, slaughtering them…

Meaning that having been assigned the latest lunch shift might have spared us. But what of my parents and siblings, who ate earlier…?

“Do you see what they intend, now?” Thunderbolt called back to us as he heard several choked sobs. “This is the fate they mean for all of us, and they have the numbers to do so!” he said, motioning around us. And indeed, we saw hundreds of gryphons orbiting the storm cloud factory and adjacent Corps base, as well as teams of ravens darting to and fro, several noticing us but not engaging us for our numbers, one calling into some kind of device. “Abandon all thoughts of peace and harmony. For here and now, they will not avail you!”

‘Wh-what should we do?” I asked—he’d made me the second squad leader given the ‘leadership’ I’d shown inside, for which I thought he was crazy; I had no idea what I was doing other than what Fell Flight had taught me once or twice when she’d come home on leave!

“What we do… is fight!” he announced as he grabbed an improvised storm cloud and triggered it, targeting a Raven team in flight. A bolt easily as powerful as any military grade one struck out and hit the formation dead center, killing two and sending the rest reeling from the force of the blast.

“Attack now while they’re dazed!” he ordered us, charging headlong for them, wielding his captured blade as skillfully as any Raven he fought, if not more. In truth, by the time we got there, he had slain most of them but two remained, so we swarmed them, killing both with the loss of only one, as the youngest mare of our group took a blade to the chest and was killed instantly.

Just like that, her life was ended. So young. So promising. Either out of fear or my own peer pressure, she had volunteered to fight, and for what…? I felt myself beginning to choke up, thinking again I couldn’t do this...

“Focus!” Thunderbolt called back, sensing our distress, his very voice putting steel in our spines. “We fight now, mourn later! Now again!” He all but snarled at us as he targeted a second nearby Raven group with his aerial artillery, this one grounded, and this time we followed close on the heels of his bolt, diving hard on them and reaching them before they could recover or take flight. Two got their crossbows up in time and one struck home, sending a bolt whistling past my ear and a second mare from my own squad falling from the sky with a wound to her shoulder that rendered her unable to fly.

Fortunately, she didn’t fall very far and landed in a cloud bank, which she quickly stained red and was pulled back inside the Rainbow Factory by those remaining under Virga’s direction. Blade in muzzle, I tackled one Raven and drove my knife into his chest as I did so, a feat I was only able to perform because the lightning strike left him partially paralyzed and unable to fight back. He also appeared to be deafened by the blood coming out his ears, leaving me wondering why Thunderbolt was hanging back this time and why he wasn’t just taking them out with lightning instead of sending us in…

Looking back, the answer was that he was trying to give us easy targets and get us used to fighting and killing as quickly as possible, and perchance he also knew that by being the triggerpony on the cloud, he was making himself a target and the center of enemy attention, giving us room to do our deadly work.

‘Twas only obvious in hindsight, however, as we dispatched the second dazed and deafened Raven group with the loss of two, leaving me wondering how long it would take before we were whittled down to nothing… and when I would be one of the casualties, only realizing after we were done that I’d taken a grazing sword strike to my flank. Whilst we completed our work, Thunderbolt and the rest of his improvised storm team opened up again on nearly a century of approaching gryphons, though the armor gleam told me that this group were Wind Knights, elite sky gryphon soldiers. Their armor was tough and tactics good; Thunderbolt and the other three teams knocked out a few with single bolts but he soon faced retaliation in the form of crossbow bolts, one of which found his foreleg, spearing right through it.

“Stay back!” he instructed us as he simply bit it off and extracted the bulk of the shaft with a pained grunt, ordering the rest of his team to keep firing as he recharged his cloud, making the kneading motion with his hooves again, ignoring both the incoming bolts and the blood dripping off his foreleg. “Storm teams! Leave!” he next directed as the gryphons got closer and two of his ‘gunners’ fell to crossbow bolts, sending them spiraling or outright plummeting to the ground. “Take cover and prepare to return on my signal!”

They hastened to obey, but not quite fast enough as the crossbow fire got steadily more accurate and two more Raven teams approached us from behind. On my own initiative, I directed us to intercept to buy time for whatever Thunderbolt was planning, shouting at the storm teams to cover us if they could.

I didn’t see what happened next, but I heard a crackling sound like an overcharged cloud, and suddenly there were a massive and unceasing series of rapid-fire booms, like continuous lightning. I looked back briefly to see he had thrown the cloud into the middle of the Knight formation after triggering it to discharge all its lightning at once, and it all but detonated in their midst, sending perchance two dozen gryphon Knights in close enough proximity to the cloud base below.

‘Twas a feat as transfixing as it was terrifying, but ‘twas also one he could not repeat. “Storm teams! Recover!” he directed but had no sooner began charging another cloud to attempt the attack again when it was struck by a magical beam from a trailing mage.

The cloud he was working with then exploded in lightning just like the one he’d used previously against the gryphons, and worse, the bolts struck the other stockpiled clouds we’d been using, setting them off as well. Within seconds, our storm teams were decimated as their weapons went off like gigantic shock gems, killing most of their crews and forcing the rest of us to take cover, even the Ravens rising to meet us, the bolts kicking up massive amounts of steam, smoke, or sulfuric blue flame depending on what they hit.

Just like that, we’d lost a third of our number and all our heavy weapons, to say nothing of our leader as a visibly burned Thunderbolt himself fell from the sky trailing smoke and sparks. He impacted the cloudtops softly but did not fall through—meaning his flight magic had not left him as he was still alive—for all the good it did us. Our leader was wounded, whilst the Ravens were nearly upon us with murder in their eyes, eager and able to avenge their losses. Even if they didn’t finish us, the approaching Knights certainly would; ‘twas unlikely any of us were going to live another two minutes.

With that realization, something changed in me. I knew we were dead, so I abandoned all hope for survival, and ‘twas a strangely liberating thing to have happen. For suddenly I had no fear left, and my entire life’s purpose was reduced to but one task...

Taking as many invading gryphons with me as I could.

The Lightning Demon

But Thunderbolt wasn’t finished yet, and as it turned out, neither were we. He pulled himself up, scorched but alive and very angry. Raw electricity from the bolts he’d taken crackled all around him; I could be mistaken but I swore even his lightning bolt cutie mark was glowing. The cloud’s electric detonation should have slain him, and yet, when it cleared…

Far from slaying him, it had charged him up!

‘Twas only then that the true meaning of his lightning bolt cutie mark became clear as he simply reared up and flared his wings, pointed his hooves skyward and released his stored electricity in the form of a massive and jagged lightning bolt, which even at a distance raised the hair on my mane. With an animal scream from his throat and a crashing boom from the monstrously powerful bolt, it pierced the mage’s shield with a single shot, sending her to the ground; I knew she was dead when she fell right through the cloud surface.

Methinks I only realized at that moment Thunderbolt was what ponies call an elemental, possessing an affinity for a single force or element of nature. ‘Twas a rare talent even among unicorns, but he not only had it, he had clearly developed it to the point that he could use it and any cloud he got his wings on as a very effective weapon…

And as the gryphons would soon realize to their dismay, that included the very clouds underneath his hooves.

Sensing a charge building beneath my own, I withdrew the remains of the platoon out of range as lightning began arcing out like anvil crawlers along the cloud surface and then leaped upwards in dozens of bolts, spearing more Knights as they neared him, breaking up their formations and making them recoil from his attack en masse. He wasted little time after that before launching himself into the midst of their disrupted platoons, engaging the enemy all by himself and leaving me wondering what he needed us for. Were we just distraction or fodder to him? No, he’d used us to whittle down the odds and give him more freedom to do his deadly work, and perchance give us some confidence in ourselves along the way.

And so it went as he fought and slew half a century of gryphons one by one. A decapitation. A broken neck. A stab through the heart. A slashed throat. A crushed skull. A deflected lightning bolt turned back on its owner. Knights, Ravens, or Magus, it didn’t matter; he slew all who challenged him within moments, their attacks effortlessly parried, their defenses swatted aside. I took advantage of their panic and distraction to ambush a few gryphons with my remaining twenty ponies, even managing a few shots with a spare storm cloud I myself retrieved from the rainbow factory, splitting their attention when they could least afford it, now in a fight for their lives.

With half their force gone and realizing that engaging Thunderbolt in close combat was futile, the gryphons tried to spread out to engage him at range with explosive-tipped crossbows, but he gave them no chance, keeping in constant motion and effortlessly dodging their attacks; proving that pegasus agility had the advantage in close quarters. And when in desperation they charged him as one, he simply landed and stood still, and then as they got close, reared up and stomped downwards with both forehooves, causing lightning to again erupt from the cloudtop in every direction, striking down a half dozen more gryphons around him.

‘Twas a that point a surviving mage tried to attack him with fire instead of lightning, only for it to be batted aside by a gust of wind-generated wind right into a pair of ambushing Ravens, immolating them. Running out of options and in increasing desperation she used her most powerful wind spell, trying to pin him to the cloud surface with it. But he even turned that against her, using his flight magic to twist the gale into a funnel that then sucked hard at her, forcing her to use her power just to stay still… which no longer became an option as he forced the tornado towards her and finally pulled her inside it, slamming her into the building to stun her and then impaling her against the wall with a thrown sword.

Within minutes the first wave of gryphon soldiers was gone. Methinks he had accounted for nearly a century of troops all by himself, but was starting to get winded to say nothing of the damage he had taken from the lightning burns to the crossbow bolt. ‘Twas unlikely even he could survive the second wave we could see inbound, reinforcements dispatched from the siege of the Corps base… or perchance they had finished off the battalion there, freeing up more troops. In any event, they knew what was happening; they were approaching much more cautiously and Thunderbolt was now visibly exhausted, to say nothing of the rest of us. We thought we were once again doomed…

Until reinforcements of our own arrived from the other side of the city. But methinks, Captain, that ‘tis time for me to pass the quill, for that part of the story I cannot tell.

Indeed, my honorary niece and beloved Aunt in all but name to my own foals, but be assured there is somepony who can.

I commend you for your superb storytelling, Sky Sergeant, and marvel at Thunderbolt’s incredible ability to not just kill but inspire, to say nothing of the bravery you displayed that day. You were frightened beyond measure, and yet you overcame it to not only survive, but become the soldier Thunderbolt called you, a soldier that even your own sister respects greatly to this day.

I apologize for the unpleasant memories I’m sure this sparked, and I ask all readers to reflect that those who survived that day were those who fought, not fled. In the end, with the attack on our ancestral home, the Cloudsdale pegasi rediscovered their warrior heritage that day, and ‘twas something the gryphons would greatly rue.

—Firefly

Bravery is the capacity to perform properly even when scared half to death. — Omar Bradley

Author's Note

Welcome back to the war, folks, and as you can see, civilians are quickly being pulled into the fighting as well. Though he did not directly contribute to this chapter, the idea for the rainbow gassing was Leo Archon’s. It was a very good idea—I wasn’t honestly sure how to allow the weather workers to believably be able to fight back against the ninja Ravens—so I took it and ran with it, and this was the result. The Ravens, by the way, are having a weakness exposed. They’re supremely skilled and superb assassins who did well against the Royal Guard at Fort Spur, and they’re unquestionably lethal when working from the shadows. But here, they’re suffering in open combat and larger-scale battles, lacking as they do the protective armor of the Knights or even their Equestrian counterparts, the Black Lances. There’ll be more to say about this later.

Thanks as always to my prereading team of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, and Denim_Blue, who filled the google doc with tons of banter and commentary. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; some of the most fun I have doing this is reading the back-and-forth and even contributing to it. This is the middle chapter of a three-chapter Cloudsdale arc which stars Thunderbolt. The final chapter will be told from yet another third point of view as the entire city soon rose in its own defense.

The War Begins: 10 - Uprising

Before we begin this crucial third chapter to the Battle of Cloudsdale, I would like to take a moment to thank all those who have contributed or still will to this growing work.

This includes the trio of guest authors that have penned these latest chapters describing the combat and outright carnage at Cloudsdale, to say nothing of those pegasi, civilian and soldier alike, who fought in the city’s defense. I know full well ‘tis oft painful to relive the battles we fought and remember those who fell, but ‘tis necessary that we do so to honor their memory and ensure their legacy lives on.

‘Twas not my original intention that we marked these chapters with visits to the battle sites we describe, but as we write we find ourselves all but compelled to, wishing to remember or at least reminisce. As the Equestrian Officer Academy was out of session for the recent winter holidays, the surviving Bolt Knights gathered in Cloudsdale for a New Years’ commemoration of the recently unveiled monument of Thunderbolt, an exquisitely carved statue erected in front of the Remedial Flyers’ School he once taught at, a place where he can forever stand watch over the city he once saved. I have more to say about this event, but this is one instance where I feel my words are best saved for the end; for after the full story of the battle is told.

In the meantime, I turn my quill back over to those who were present at Cloudsdale during the Gryphon attack. I promise that the story’s attention will return to my own battalion at Epsilon soon enough, but ‘tis simply little point in it for now. For mid-afternoon on the first of September, we were not under attack but knew well one was coming; with all the other outposts around us falling one by one I had no doubt that the next wave would hit us at nightfall and be far more difficult to defeat.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain. ‘Twas good to see you again at the dedication, and Fell Flight’s speech in honor of Thunderbolt brought tears to mine and many other eyes. I, too, have more to say about the dedication and Thunderbolt, but like you, I feel ‘tis best saved for the battle’s end.

—Sky Sergeant Morning Glory
Head of Storm Cloud Production
Cloudsdale Weather Factory
Cloudsdale

Cloudsdale
Weather Factory
September 1st, 1139 AC
1252 hours

Methinks I had lost count of how many times I was certain I was dead.

Looking back, I’d had at least four of them to that point yet somehow, I was still alive and fighting—and so was Thunderbolt despite his burns and crossbow wound. He’d single-hoofedly decimated an entire century of elite gryphon warriors but now a second, larger force was streaking in from their siege of Fort Tempest, and they were forewarned as to what they were facing.

Recognizing that he was their sole focus and that without storm clouds we had no hope of helping him, he ordered us off, instructing us to defend the Rainbow Factory we were using as a base. But instead of engaging us, the Knights and Ravens ignored us, the second century of elite gryphon warriors fanning out to encircle him at a respectful distance, not immediately attacking. Burned and bloodied from the earlier wave—I couldn’t tell when, but at some point he’d been slashed by a Raven blade; there was a dripping red line visible on his side—he goaded them in their own language, but discipline held as no less than four sky gryphon mages confronted him from nearly a hundred yards away, each brandishing a gem-studded staff or larger stave pointed directly at him.

He could not counterattack as he had before, as he’d already discharged all of his stored lightning, and he could not produce more without additional storm clouds that we did not have. That, or allow himself to be struck with another mage-triggered lightning bolt to recharge him. Unfortunately, ‘twas instantly apparent that the Gryphon Magus Knights were fully aware of that as, at the shouted order of their leader, great gouts of magus fire erupted towards him instead of the violet-tinged lightning they had tried before. Though an impressive display, I couldn’t see what good that would do as he could—and did—just deflect them away with blasts of wind from his wings. He tried to redirect the flames towards the gryphons, but the distance was simply too far. And when he tried to close with them, he was met with shield and simple levitation spells, the mages magically holding him back as the atmosphere visibly heated up around him, causing the very air to shimmer, distorting what I could see of him.

‘Twas then clear what their plan was for dealing with him. ‘Twas as brilliant as ‘twas brutal to behold; methinks I must credit the gryphons for coming up with such an unconventional plan so quickly. First, two of the mages pinned him in place with levitation spells. As powerful as he was, they couldn’t hold him still to be targeted by crossbows, but they could limit his movement enough for the other two mages to then trap him inside a large shield spell.

Their cage created, the first two mages then dropped their levitation magic to pour fire inside the shield, turning it into a makeshift oven—one that would cook him alive if it didn’t suffocate him first. The flames rapidly sucked all the oxygen out of the air, leaving him clawing at his throat as he struggled to stay conscious and keep the inferno at bay with his wind. ‘Twas a task made all the more difficult as the mages then began to contract the sphere, both strengthening the magical barrier and giving him less and less room to fly in; he managed one last weak lightning bolt that caused the shield to falter briefly but a third mage than switched her spell, leaving just one to keep pouring fire within it whilst he was now trying and failing to penetrate a shield spell maintained by no less than three mages, all intent on killing him.

“Thunderbolt!” We called to him in vain as we could see our only hope for victory weakening inside it. He could not escape and there was nothing we could do to help him; methinks he had but a half a minute left before the flames or simply an inability to breathe slew him.

Watching grimly from below, Thunderbolt’s one-winged friend and former Corps Sergeant Virga Veil took command. He began shouting orders, having us set barricades and position the three remaining storm clouds that Thunderbolt had given us to defend the building, passing out the captured Raven gems to use as well. The Ravens had probed and sniped but had not returned since Thunderbolt’s appearance. Once he was dead, though, they or the Knights would storm the building... or, worse, I realized then with a sinking heart, they could simply have their mages level it with fire or lightning whilst we were still inside.

Once again, ‘twould seem we were doomed. Following Virga’s orders like the soldier I had somehow become, I readied the remains of my improvised platoon for close combat and what ‘twas certain to be a futile final stand, hoping to take out at least one or two more gryphons before falling.

As my life began to flash before my eyes, I thought of my parents, my herd, and my siblings, and with the latter, my thoughts settled on Fell Flight. I wondered if she was still alive, and if she was, if she would ever know of what had happened here and what I had done…

That I had fought and died trying to be like her, defending Equestria from the gryphons.

I did indeed, dear sister, and I admire you immensely for the bravery and boldness you showed that day, overcoming your fears to fight against opponents as numerous as they were dangerous.

‘Tis worth noting the old adage that courage is not the absence of fear, but acting in spite of it, and you did so, setting an example that your friends and fellow weather workers followed. I mourn their loss along with you, but I need not tell you any longer to not blame yourself or Thunderbolt for that. For in the end, as I said in the speech, he did not lead you to your deaths in a futile struggle, but rather, showed you how to resist and gave not just the weather factory but all of Cloudsdale a fighting chance for life. He showed you how to fight back, and better yet, gave you the tools to do so.

With your permission, Captain, methinks I would like to introduce the final pony to tell the story of the battle myself. I only met her once briefly before the war, at the ceremony where Windshear was presented by the Princess with his first Defender of Harmony award, but I took an instant liking to her. A retired Corps soldier and a member of my former commander’s herd, she remains loyal to his memory and foals she bore him to this day. She served with honor, she suffered his loss, and even before they knew his fate, neither she nor her sister hesitated to fight when Cloudsdale was attacked.

—Fell Flight

Thank you for your kind words, honored Emissary and former First Lieutenant. Know in turn that Windshear wrote and spoke of you repeatedly whilst in command of Outpost Omega, noting he’d never seen such an intense and driven soldier before and that your eyes were the greatest asset his base had. He once told me that you wouldst go far and had no doubt you wouldst end up with a command of your own one day, though methinks not even he could foresee that you wouldst in time become an ambassador and emissary to the bat-ponies, doing your greatest work in peace as opposed to war.

Greetings, dear friends and readers. My name is Orchard Oriole, former and forever mare of Windshear, and I wish to offer special thanks to Captain Firefly for allowing me the opportunity to pen my own part of this tale. ‘Twas fitting, methinks, that during the dedication she and her original Bolt Knight comrades stayed in the company of our beloved Windshear’s family, seeing his longtime home and herd for the very first time. Methinks it did our hearts good to at long last meet his legendary protege and see some of the many lives he touched.

For those who do not know, my two sisters and I entered the Aerial Corps at the same time as Windshear did so many years ago, ending up in the same training company and later, the same squad with Windshear in command of us.

‘Tis no exaggeration to say that we fell head over hooves for him during that time—for how could we not fall in love with such a strong and skilled young stallion who showed a surprising acumen for both combat and command?

We saw action together for the first time during a Gryphon raid on Trottingham that cost us my sister Cardinal, but ‘tis also true what they say about bonds forged in battle—once forged, they never falter, and ‘twas not long after that we formally herded. My sister Blue Jay and I left the Corps after our enlistment was up to concentrate on raising our first foals, but Windshear stayed behind, knowing the Corps—and defending the frontier from the Gryphon Empire—was where he belonged.

We worried about him, of course, none more so than when we received word of his first, near-lethal battle with a Red Talon. But his thoughts were ever of us and in the end, he left the front lines for us, transferring to the Royal Guard to keep himself safe and able to visit his mares and foals more often.

I will not linger too long on the rest of his story, which was told in the prequel of this one, except to say that I have never known a finer, more honorable or more devoted stallion before or since. We loved and revered him to the point that his herd stayed together even after his death... though ‘tis certain we faced our own ends that fateful first day of war as the Gryphons invaded Cloudsdale. But the great city of the sky was home to many present and retired Corps veterans as well as the Cloudsdale militia, as the gryphons would soon learn to their cost…

They would also learn that even civilian pegasi were not as far removed from their martial past as they might have believed.

—Orchard Oriole
Curator
Royal Legion Museum
Cloudsdale

Cloudsdale
Central District
Royal Legion Museum
September 1st, 1139 AC
1235 hours

Methinks there is little I can say about the prelude to the attack that has not been said already or otherwise rendered cliché.

‘Twas naught but a typical day for us in the Windshear herd household as dawn broke on September 1st. Our family was mostly grown at that point; the youngest of our nine foals was nearly thirteen whilst our four oldest had left home years before. Of those, three had joined the military, seeking to follow in their sire’s wingbeats even with his stated wish that they did not: Windshear’s two eldest daughters had both enlisted in the Corps as soon as they turned nineteen whilst Winter Storm, his 24-year old son borne him by Blue Jay (so named for an event that marked his birth), had not only followed them into the Corps but planned to transfer to the Royal Guard as soon as his new herd bore him a son of his own. Windshear was not happy about that—in truth, none of us were—but as he so often said, ‘twas not his place to deny his offspring the chance to serve and offer up their lives for Equestria.

‘Twas a normal morning, and I cannot claim I had any premonitions or troubling thoughts as I rose with my other herd mares to see our remaining five school-age foals off to class. There were four mares in Windshear’s herd at that point: myself and Blue Jay, a former PSD agent named Red Tail who now worked as a security guard by the weather factory, and the newest member of our herd was Gust Front, a retired Corps veteran who had been Windshear’s executive officer whilst he was in charge of Outpost Omega and had later succeeded him in command. Having left active duty to become a Corps recruiter, we accepted her readily because, like me and Blue Jay, she had fought at his side and truly understood him, eventually retiring to be with him after ending a fourteen-year Corps career, nearly five years of which was spent in his presence.

Having been with him ourselves for so long, we understood well enough that Windshear’s place and purpose was that of a warrior, so we never pushed him to retire as we had. Then again, nor could we escape our own martial past even after leaving the Corps—when Windshear defeated his first Red Talon following a massive raider attack on Outpost Omega, we immediately brushed up on our combat skills, fearing vengeance strikes from the Ravens. Red Tail taught us knife-fighting and close-quarters combat she’d learned in the PSD in case we needed it, and even obtained for us some PSD weaponry in the form of concealable blades, various nonlethal flavors of crystals and even the wrist-mounted miniature crossbows PSD agents favored to thwart assassination attempts.

I carried them all with me for a time, but eventually stopped after a few years except for a small knife hidden in my uniform jacket. Though the Red Talons had sworn vengeance against Windshear, we worried little about them as they and the rest of the Imperial military would consider targeting his family dishonorable. The raiders our stallion fought and defeated were another matter, but for them to travel the hundreds of miles inside Equestria to strike Cloudsdale itself ‘twould be complete and utter folly. They were vengeful, not suicidal, after all. Neigh, ‘twas certain that only the gryphon military itself had the training and resources to launch such an audacious operation…

But we never thought it could actually happen. Though a gryphon attack was certainly a contingency the Corps and Cloudsdale militia had planned for, as we knew full well the city was within striking distance of sky gryphon soldiers for at least a few months of the year around the end of summer, ‘twould be a lie to say we ever truly took the threat seriously. ‘Twas simply unthinkable to us that the Empire would send nearly two thousand troops over six hundred miles to attack our great city, defended by over double that number of Corps and militia troops as it was.

Unthinkable, but not impossible, as on that day we learned to our great cost that Imperial ambitions were great indeed.

The Unthinkable

The first inkling something was wrong was whilst Blue Jay and I were having lunch in the cafe of the Royal Legion museum we both worked at. We had just wrapped up morning tours for two field trips from local schools, and with them concluded were looking forward to a relaxing afternoon of tending exhibits and answering questions from the few adult patrons that we could expect on a weekday afternoon.

‘Twas then that a panicked young pegasus colt burst in on us and all who were eating there, saying that the gryphons had declared war and had been sighted approaching the city in large numbers; this despite the many hundreds of miles distance ‘twas for them to fly from the pony/gryphon frontier. In disbelief, we followed him outside where we beheld… hundreds of Imperial Knights, easily identifiable by their gold-hued armor, descending on the main militia base just a few miles away with a second, even larger group striking the distant other end of the city, where the weather factory and Corps base defending it lay.

My first emotion was shock over what was happening, which quickly gave way to fear for my family and city, then anger that the gryphons would dare attack them. My first thoughts, naturally, were of my own foals and family, wondering if being part of Windshear’s herd meant we would be directly targeted—were the Ravens sending assassins for us even as I watched? I wondered as I patted the knife hidden within the lining of my museum tour guide uniform. My second was of Cloudsdale itself, realizing that as sudden and large-scale as this attack was, that the city might not be able to defend itself. And my third…

My third was to shake off my shock and grab some old armor and weapons from the museum exhibits to join the defense of the city. The ancient Royal Legion had fought not with wingblades but with spears and short swords, protecting their soldiers with enchanted shields and armor; we kept our small supply of old equipment in working order and even demonstrated its use during tours and battle reenactments. So we not only had access to their ancient weaponry, but all of us who worked at the museum knew how to wield them. And perchance the gryphons, only used to modern Corps weapons and tactics as they were, might be caught off guard by them.

Blue Jay was of the same mind as I—once a soldier, always a soldier, and thus, we would fight! Though civilians, we were also Corps veterans, as were many others working at the museum or other nearby businesses that day, and it pleases me to say we wasted little time in organizing ourselves and the initially more frightened civilians into a coherent defense. Exhibits and storage vaults were broken into, weapons and protective gear passed out, and improvised squads formed along Corps lines; with a little encouragement and perchance a few reminders of friends at the militia base or weather factory now in danger. Spines were steeled, steel helmets were donned, and before long, methinks even our younger colts and fillies were soon ready and eager to fight the invaders.

Though gratified by their response, ‘tis certain Blue Jay and I were under no illusions of what we faced—we knew full well from countless Corps briefings that Knights were elite soldiers, far better than the average raiders we faced, and sky gryphons in general had a significant advantage in strength and stamina over pegasi—otherwise they could not have flown six hundred miles to a fight! And this was to say nothing of predatory features like their beaks and talons that were not only lethal weapons in their own right, but the latter could be used to grip swords and crossbows that pegasi could not easily wield.

Against that, pegasus advantages were speed and maneuverability, to say nothing of weather control. In days of yore, Cloudsdale did not have a weather factory and pegasi could not manufacture storm clouds on a mass scale. But the Royal Legion had not needed to; they had invented ways to enhance naturally occurring clouds to charge them with lightning and turn even common cumulus into lethal weapons. By chance, we just so happened to have their ancient means of doing so at hoof—a special magical concoction distilled from an extract of Lapis Lazuli crystals infused with lava from the Ifrit Volcano as well as a few other more minor ingredients; vials of a potent potion that, when added dropwise into a cloud, charged them with a single lightning bolt per drop.

We knew their formula and distillation process, and though strictly regulated and requiring several rather... rare reagents, some select unicorns at the EIS’s Office of Magical Research were allowed to produce it for us in small amounts for purposes of history. We had used them before in battle reenactments to show how pegasi of old fought using their environment; we just never thought that the ways of the Royal Legion would ever be useful in combat again!

We had a small supply at hoof, six vials each containing fifty drops, so we simply dug out some pieces of cloud from our own city’s surface and charged them with lightning in this manner. We charged twenty clouds with an average of ten bolts each until we ran out of the potion… except for two vials, which I thought was best kept in reserve. For there was a second way the Royal Legion could use them, but we needed a perfect set-up to do so.

Royal Legion Reborn

Ten minutes later, we and nearly two hundred nearby pegasi were armed and ready to fight; organized into a single scratch company with the old Corps veteran who ran the museum, Captain Silverhawk, sire of Red Tail, in command. Appointed by him as a platoon leader, I was wearing replica pleather chest and foreleg coverings (this alone wasn’t authentic—the Legion used actual animal skins; ‘twas a different era and pegasi were far less reluctant to hunt and eat meat back then) as well as an old metal helmet that was proof against the blades and bows of the age. The metal torso armor the legion used likewise offered excellent protection against physical and magical attacks, but ‘twas simply too heavy for me so ‘twas reserved for stallions.

My ensemble was completed with a large enchanted shield that was the Legion’s signature equipment. The Royal Legion gave such shields to all their squad leaders whilst their rank-and-file got a spear and short sword, but we didn’t have enough of them to go around, so only platoon leaders got them. Squad leaders instead got swords as a sign of rank, whilst their squad members were given spears and storm clouds, one of the latter per squad, with those wielding the former expected to protect the latter as they did their deadly work.

‘Twas an improvised force based on what we had, and I did dread the losses we were likely to suffer as we took flight for the city militia base, still under siege and still fighting if the lightning flashes were any indication, blue-tinged pony-generated bolts alternating with the violet-hued ones from gryphon mages. As we neared, Silverhawk told us—quite properly—that the mages were our primary targets, and told our storm teams to concentrate lightning on them, saving the Knights for later.

Our actions were far from an isolated occurrence, as it turned out. All over the city, pegasi were rousing themselves to the city’s defense; forming improvised units and flying to the scene. Seeing our formation, many flew up to join us as we headed for the militia base armed with everything from privately owned wingblades to simple cutlery pulled from kitchen shelves. As I read the earlier chapter, I find that this was not so much the case at the weather factory, as perchance the shock of the initial attack was simply too great… or perchance ‘twas simply that those of us who were not under immediate threat had the opportunity to take stock and decide on what to do. In the end, with our family, friends and city in danger, there was but one thing our pegasi blood and warrior heritage would allow us to do.

Our numbers had swollen to nearly three hundred by the time we arrived at the scene to see the Knights having already reduced half the base and bitterly engaged with the on-duty militia troops, who fought in the cone-shaped aerial phalanx formations of old with spear and shield; only the flanking members of the phalanx having wingblades. The Corps thought such tactics obsolete, and not without reason as, facing well-trained Knights armed with more versatile distance weapons that easily overmatched militia spears, they were suffering severe casualties as the Knights and magus simply broke up their block formations with explosive-tipped crossbow bolts and lightning strikes, sometimes killing several at a time with a single bolt and allowing the gryphon soldiers to close-in to finish them with scimitars and steel claws.

Facing six centuries of elite gryphon soldiers, the twelve hundred on-duty members of the pegasus militia had hastily mobilized and fought valiantly—but futilely—against the superior soldiers and weapons, unable to do much damage. Their lightning teams had in fact accounted for the bulk of the fifty or so casualties the gryphons had suffered at their hooves rather than their spears, having apparently opened up on them during their approach, but their clouds and crews now lay fallow and shredded, with steam and blue vapors around them along with the smoking bodies of their teams that hadn’t already fallen through the clouds. And lacking the lightning support their old fighting doctrine called for, their phalanxes had been left easy prey; at least half their soldiers now lay dead, the Plum River stained red with their blood.

‘Twas a terrible sight that did indeed make our stomachs turn; none were unaffected by the sheer carnage we saw inside and around the base, many of us having friends within the militia. We didn’t know what had happened, but ‘twas quite apparent that the Knights had nearly completed their work, having driven their opponents to ground and now reducing the facility building by building. They saw us approach and an entire century broke off to engage us supported by three Magus Knights, but not without the lead one first calling out a warning:

“Equestrians! Listen and take heed!” The eagless mage announced in Equish, her magic making her voice boom loudly; we couldn’t help but stop short as we realized we were spotted. “The Gryphon Empire has declared war on Equestria, and this is an Imperial military operation against your city’s martial forces and industries! On our warrior honor, civilians and non-military targets will not be harmed... unless you wouldst attempt to fight us!” She warned us, igniting her stave and making it glow red with fire. “Turn back now, or you will be considered combatants! Turn back now... or you will be slain!” she warned us again, casting a shield spell as the Knights flanking her at the other mage notched crossbow arrows and took aim, threatening to release a deadly volley.

At that point, ‘tis certain we did not know the lie of her statements being proven at the weather factory, where an even larger force of Knights had pinned down the Corps battalion at Fort Tempest so that the Ravens could engage in a systematic slaughter of weather factory workers. We saw no Ravens amongst the attackers here, though methinks I knew better than to expect there were none.

“How dare you!” ‘Twas then that Captain Silverhawk flew forth, dressed in his old Corps Captain’s uniform and gear, all of which he kept at the museum he lived in as curator. “You expect us to hover meekly by and do nothing whilst you invade our city, slaughter our friends, and destroy our very way of life? All the while speaking to us of honor?” he said with a glance back at the other end of the city where the burning weather factory lay, speaking into his old blue command gem that amplified his words enough to be heard on both sides of the Plum River. To his credit, neither his voice nor flight faltered despite all the weapons trained on him, continuing to berate and threaten the invaders.

“You and your entire Empire have stirred a hornet’s nest by coming here, Second Spear! And for the lives you have taken, you and your troops will pay a heavy price!” he called out as the rest of us fanned out to engage, storm clouds going into a battle line and positioning to strike with massed lightning volleys, but the gryphon soldiers seemed strangely unconcerned by them.

The Magus was likewise unimpressed. “If death is your wish, former Captain of the Corps, we will grant it to you and all you now lead! Do not expect a favorable outcome if you wouldst fight!” she warned again, recognizing his older uniform design—clearly, the gryphons had been briefed well on what they might face.

Silverhawk looked at her in disbelief. “And methinks you are an overconfident foal! You are outnumbered three to one and face the equivalent of a full storm battalion, Second Spear! Your shields will not avail you against such an onslaught! But even if they could, do you really think you could withstand not only us, but the reinforcements to follow?” he challenged her looking back to see additional improvised formations approaching as many other pegasi throughout the city had had the same thoughts we had, gathering themselves and racing to confront the invaders from all corners of the city. “Cease your attack and surrender now, and we will not lay waste your forces!” he offered, fully expecting—and I daresay hoping—’twould be turned down.

She barely suppressed a sneer at that. “We make you the same offer, Captain!” The magus replied after a quick glance at her Wind Knight commander, who wore the insignia of a Centurion, getting a quick spoken order from him, his look smug. “We do not fear your storm clouds, and having already annihilated those belonging to your militia, perchance ‘twould be in your best interests to consider why! This is your final warning! Attack us and die!” She punctuated her statement with a squawked order to her forces who assumed attack formations of their own and a lightning bolt that passed close enough over our heads to raise the hairs on our manes.

In response, he looked back at us to gauge our morale, and we likewise all exchanged glances with each other. What he saw were a series of short but sharp nods that caused our commander to smile, seeing that our spines were steeled, our decision made. Whether veteran or civilian, mare or stallion, not one of us was going to take the offer, and with our force consisting of three hundred angry pegasi, nearly a third of whom were Corps or militia veterans, wielding various weapons as well as twenty freshly-charged storm clouds between us—surely the gryphons were not so foalish as to ignore their very real threat?—we knew we could give as good as we got, even facing the Imperial elite.

“So be it, Second Spear! Let us see whose promise is kept! Storm Teams! Target their mages! Platoons! Protect the gunners and prepare to engage the Knights at my signal!” Silverhawk ordered as he raised his hoof, causing his newly formed company to gather in attack formations as well, packing in close around the clouds with shield holders at the front of our forces as we’d already arranged.

His orders were met with matching ones from the gryphon side as the Knights scattered to a greater distance before the lightning threat, countering with crossbows whilst the three mages gathered together to combine their shield spells, reinforcing them and making them doubly difficult to batter down, though twenty clouds could do it. We had no idea why they were exposing themselves like that, nor why the Knights had not struck preemptively. But their discipline held; we later learned they were under strict orders not to engage civilians unless the civilians attacked first, and thus, they had to wait for us to make the first move.

Despite that, ‘twas clear they were planning something, but none of us yet knew what. “Hear me, gryphons! If ‘tis war you have declared, ‘tis war you shall have!” Silverhawk proclaimed, speaking for us all. “Storm teams! For Cloudsdale and all Equestria! Attack!” he ordered, and with that, twenty storm clouds were triggered at once in a deadly volley, their lethal bolts of electricity lancing upwards towards the three shielded mages.

Thank you for a very compelling opening, Lady Oriole, and know that you and Cloudsdale pegasi acquitted themselves brilliantly that day. It strikes me now that the gryphons were rehearsed and ready for Corps and Militia tactics, but had no idea there was another, far more ancient armed force who could reach out from the very annals of pegasus history to fight them.

But before we continue with this part of the story, a brief shift in perspective over to Epsilon is in order, as the question has been posed to me as this latest chapter is being written: did we at Epsilon know what was happening at places like Fort Spur and Cloudsdale? The answer follows.

—Firefly

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AC
1340 hours

“New message from Gamma, ma’am…” Fell Flight informed me in the early afternoon when our communications gems spat out a new scroll, and I knew from the look in her slitted eyes that the news was not good as she summoned me back to the watchtower from where I’d been, interrogating prisoners and policing the grounds. We’d been able to take only a few wounded gryphons into custody following the early morning battle, as, true to Talon form, most had killed themselves rather than surrender. “Cloudsdale is under heavy attack. Initial reports state the Gryphons have sent well over a millennium of Knights against it,” she told me, clearly struggling to control her emotions.

I did not immediately answer, though I understood the implications well enough, my eyes closing in silent prayer for the civilians and forces we had there. Even in my wildest fears and fantasies, I had not actually believed the gryphons could strike the great city so far inside Equestrian borders, and on such short notice. That they could ‘twas testament to their training, to their new Prelate’s meticulous planning… and their numbers that they had such forces to spare even as the Knights and Talons were steadily reducing the Army and Aerial Corps border bases to nothing. We were finding ourselves more and more isolated as both Delta and the Army base at Outpost Blue had fallen silent just in the past hour, meaning they were most likely lost…

Meaning that we were now likely the only border force still standing this side of Omega, which we had only fragmentary contact with. We’d heard little from anywhere else; I took some comfort from not hearing that Fort Spur had been struck as the stolen war plans had implied, trying not to think of the possibility that it and my sister still would be... or worse, the base had already fallen but word had simply not reached us.

“I see…” I told her at some length as I looked out over the canyon, lost in my own brooding thoughts, my forces now on continuous patrol and unable to do much except watch for and await the next gryphon attack. “I know how you must feel, Master Sergeant. If you need some time to yourself...” I felt compelled to add, but the lie of my own empathy tasted bitter on my tongue. For how could I know how she felt? I’d been to the city all of once whilst many soldiers under my command like Fell Flight and Blindside had their families there; I could only imagine what was going through Fell Flight’s head at this hour as both her promised command at Omega and her family at Cloudsdale were endangered, but she was unable to help either.

To that point, the gryphons had attempted nothing more than harassment since their disastrous first attack but were steadily closing the space in which we could operate, pressing in slowly from all sides and cutting off all possible avenues of reinforcement or escape. Patrols had spotted at least two points they appeared to be massing troops for their next attack and worse, a number of Knights had been seen among them. It meant the next attempt on our base, whenever it came, would be backed by their elite soldiers, and we could be assured ‘twould not repeat the mistakes of the first.

“How I feel is helpless, ma’am,” my second told me through clenched teeth. “Helpless to stop any of this, helpless to even fight back. Helpless just to wait for our own end and know that any other choice we make leads only to our earlier annihilation!” She brought her hoof down hard enough to crack the stone floor. “By the sun and Luna’s moon, ma’am, I want to fight!”

“Steady, Master Sergeant,” First Sergeant Still Way told her, the ranking member of our three Celestial Guardsponies having levitated himself up to the watchtower to stand watch whilst Steelheart rested and Stormrunner was out on patrol with Sergeant Blindside’s 3rd platoon. “To act in anger is to play into our enemy’s hooves. We must make our decisions calmly and rationally, and with an eye on what will either buy us the most time, or cost our enemies the most.”

Fell Flight was in no mood for such advice. “So you wouldst have us sit back and wait, First Sergeant? To do nothing whilst Equestria crumbles around us and our brethren in the Army and Aerial Corps fight and die unaided by our forces?” she challenged the strangely serene stallion, one whom I’d never seen raise his voice or show even the slightest hint of temper or frustration, even though he’d encountered plenty of the latter whilst trying to train our initially recalcitrant healer team to use longbows and defensive spells.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied evenly and with an odd smile, his own bow sheathed on his back with a nearly-full quiver of arrows still present. “Just that we make our military decisions rationally, not rashly.”

Before Fell Flight could retort, another scroll materialized at that moment from one of the Dragonfire gems in a puff of green smoke. “If I may, commander…?” he asked politely, and with my nod, Still Way plucked it up in his aura and unfurled it to read, gaining a smile as he did so. “Well, then. Perchance, Master Sergeant, there is a way we might satisfy both our desire to fight and the need to preserve our force. I believe you will both approve of what no less than Captain Sirocco has done… and find within a possibility for what we might do?” he suggested almost slyly as he motioned down at the scroll, passing it to us.

Fell Flight and I read it together, our eyes going wide as we finally read some good battle news, a toothy grin parting our lips as we learned what our Division commander had done. Methinks we both had the same idea as Still Way when we read the dispatch, and my already-great admiration for our esteemed Captain of the Corps 5th Division only increased for it.

“Orders, ma’am?” Fell Flight asked eagerly.

“Summon the ready platoon and half our storm teams!” I ordered Fell Flight, who nodded eagerly as I grabbed a map marked with the growing gryphon troop concentrations, studying it and making some quick markings on it. “If Gamma could do it facing much larger numbers, perchance we can too…”

A Battle Joined

Cloudsdale
Plum River, northwest of Militia base
September 1st, 1139 AC
1250 hours

We were surprised when the mages allowed our first volley of gold-tinged lightning bolts to impact their shields unimpeded.

They visibly grimaced under the onslaught, but their barriers held, though by the way they flickered ‘twas fairly clear they couldn’t survive more than one or two strikes more. We were doubly surprised when the Knights did not take advantage of our preoccupation by sweeping around our flanks or at least harassing us with crossbow fire, holding them at the ready but not triggering them, seemingly waiting for something—but what, I wondered as I continued to hold up my shield, keeping my tightly-packed platoon in its cone of protection. I had seen enough action in the Corps to find their tactics completely incomprehensible; even the raiders who had slain my sister had more sense than this! These Knights were supposed to be the Empire’s elite; surely they were not simply going to stand by and allow their magus to be slain...?

The answer came as the sulfuric smoke from the first bolts dissipated, leaving the mages exposed. As our storm teams readied a second volley—it normally takes a few seconds for a cloud to be able to discharge another bolt, and one of the disadvantages of the Royal Legion potion was an even longer delay before the next bolt could be loosed—the mages dropped their shields and counterattacked with magical beams of some sort that simply bypassed our shields and struck the clouds themselves, dead center of our formations in the midst of our tightly packed troops. There was a brief crackling and sizzling sound, and we all froze, uncertain of what it meant…

But nothing happened. Our Royal Legion-era storm clouds simply absorbed the beams and sat silently, still charged and waiting to launch their deadly bolts.

Methinks the expression on the lead mage’s face was something to behold—shock, confusion… and then outright fear as two more subsequent attempts against different clouds likewise had no effect as we watched slightly dumbfounded. They hastily brought their shields back up and called for help, but this time they were caught off guard and hadn’t reinforced each other’s spells. This in turn meant that they were—to borrow their own phrase—fish in a barrel, and we now had the spears.

At Silverhawk’s next order, the second volley took down their shields easily before the startled Knights could swoop back in and launch a hasty crossbow volley at our massed force from such distance that they couldn’t hope to hit much; a few bolts deflecting off the sturdy Royal Legion shields and none causing injury. Their power faltering and their staves cracking, the suddenly but sorely endangered mages took evasive action, but not even a pegasus in a power dive could outpace a lightning bolt; two were slain by the third volley and the last mage fled as we punched open a hole through their outer cordon into the still-fighting militia base.

‘Twas only much later, after comparing notes with surviving militia troops that we learned what they were trying to do, and how close we came to death: the mages wanted us to focus their fire on them and away from the Knights, knowing that they could withstand the first volleys, drawing us in close enough that they could counterattack with their new spells that would cause pegasus storm clouds to release all their lightning at once in every direction.

Had it worked—and in fairness, as it had already succeeded spectacularly against militia forces, they had no reason to believe ‘twould not with us—our own improvised artillery would have exploded in our faces, the eruption of lightning taking out half our close-packed force at once and scattering the remainder to become easy prey of the Wind Knights, who were ready to swoop in to finish our broken formations from the flanks with steel claws and crossbow bolts once the carnage was complete. Had it worked, we would have been wiped out in under a minute; had it worked; we would have been a very bloody object lesson for other improvised forces arriving on the scene, who might have been much more hesitant to challenge the Knights. Had it worked, the gryphon cohort would have had the chance to complete their destruction of the militia base, and then depart, their mission completed.

There are countless what-ifs of war, and I learned from my own engagements never to question its whims. What saved us were that these weren’t regular storm clouds the gryphons were familiar with. They were in fact relics of the ancient past, created by the old techniques the venerated Royal Legion once used, and as it turned out… as their lightning was imparted neither naturally nor via the modern pegasus methods…

They were completely immune to the spell!

But such would only be known later. We did not understand our good fortune of what seemed like incredibly ineffectual tactics, but did not hesitate to take advantage of them as a stunned Silverhawk ordered our teams to let the final mage go and open up instead on the Knights, who looked momentarily lost, suddenly deprived of their mage support and their Centurion commander visibly uncertain what to do. His hesitation cost them as a fresh round of golden bolts crashed into their ranks, spearing at least a dozen with deadly electricity, the jagged strokes penetrating their armor and sending them spiraling or outright plummeting into the Plum River below.

To their credit, the Knights and their commander quickly shook off their shock. They realized their only chance against a full lightning battalion was to close quickly with us so at their centurion’s order they did so, charging us in dispersed, zig-zagging, decade-sized formations designed to minimize vulnerability to lightning whilst calling for additional support. A second century and another mage peeled off the siege of the militia base to assist them, but they would be late in arriving as we got in two more solid volleys at progressively closer range before the Knights got into effective crossbow range, losing another thirty soldiers to our massed storm clouds, revealing yet another unexpected benefit of the ancient Royal Legion potion:

Knight armor was enchanted against the standard military-grade storm clouds the Corps and Cloudsdale militia used, but not against the Royal Legion variety, whose lightning had different magical qualities. Their normally sturdy breastplates offered very little protection against the powerful gold-tinged bolts, which had been designed for use against the dragons that once menaced Equestria. Now reduced by half, the Knight century loosed a mixture of explosive-tipped and armor-piercing crossbows, only to find that the large Royal Legion shields I admittedly was having trouble holding aloft were proof against them; I felt several deflect off my own, limiting their damage to few narrow and very lucky shots.

The Knights closed to melee range to preclude further use of lightning... which would normally be concerning except for the fact that with their losses we now outnumbered them nearly six to one; not even their skill in close combat could overcome such an advantage. We swarmed them with everything from Royal Legion spears and short swords to personal blades and kitchen knives; I took out one Knight by diving on him with my shield, using its very weight as a weapon to to drive its sharp tip into his shoulder blades, severing his spinal cord. Blue Jay covered me as she always did, surprising another Wind Knight eagless bearing the insignia of a Decurion with her wrist-mounted PSD crossbows, which unlike me, she never stopped carrying, a small but powerful bolt penetrating the Knight’s neck armor at close range.

Nevertheless, lacking sufficient armor of our own and facing such powerful foes, we took nearly fifty casualties in close combat over the next minute, including to my great sorrow Captain Silverhawk, who directly challenged the Knight Centurion with his wingblades. Though old and overmatched, he went out in a blaze of glory and with a cry of “for Equestria!” as he sacrificed himself to slay him—I regret I did not see how he did it; I only heard his shout and then saw them both plummeting—rendering both ourselves and the Knights leaderless.

The difference was numbers and momentum, to say nothing of available reinforcements. His death only enraged us further, and seeing our success, other pegasus groups who had been hanging back to see how we would fare began joining in, first a trickle and then a steady flood as they realized that the Knights could be fought and beaten.

Strength in Numbers

Within minutes, several disjointed counterattacks all along the militia fort periphery had merged together into a mighty surge over the Plum River and onto the base itself, now over a thousand mixed civilian and military pegasi steadily driving the outnumbered and outgunned Knights back. They still had mages to be sure, and falling back on interior lines, they held the reinforcements at bay until my group reappeared, Royal Legion shields in the lead. With our strongest stallions now holding them aloft—I simply couldn’t carry it myself any longer and now wielded a short sword—we charged them in close formation, the shields doing what they did back then; forming a protective cone against magical attacks as both mage lightning and fire were deflected to their increasing consternation.

I saw one stallion drive a mage’s fire right back onto her, charging her like Flash Magus holding the great shield Netitus before a dragon, except her flame was far weaker than Dragonfire and posed little threat to him. Fighting true to ancient tactics, the squad that was surging in behind him in the shield’s protective shadow burst out right on top of her and slew her with ancient swords and spears; methinks I will never forget the shock on her face as she fell to the olden weapons.

Faced with overwhelming numbers and threats they had never imagined or prepared for, the Knights did their best—or perchance worst—against the onslaught. Even when we succeeded in isolating individual soldiers from their comrades, they fought savagely; some took down two, three, even four ponies with their swords and steel claws before succumbing to the swarming tactics of their attackers, and their good group tactics and uncanny crossbow bolt accuracy claimed at least a hundred more.

But such only went so far. Forced to split their attention, they were unable to keep the remaining militia troops pinned down, and our beleaguered soldiers finally took advantage, launching a counterattack using their remaining numbers and weapons. Finally free of mage bombardment, they used hoofilite-generated tornadoes to break up enemy formations and leave individual gryphon soldiers easy prey, taking revenge for the sneak attack and their massive casualties by reforming their phalanxes and descending on dazed Imperial troops with their own spears and shields, finally able to fight on their terms.

At that point, the conclusion ‘twas all but foregone. There is little more that need be said about this action except that within twenty minutes of our initial engagement, and perchance thirty of their first appearance, the tattered remains of the Knight cohort that had struck the militia base abandoned their attack and were fleeing Cloudsdale, recognizing further struggle was useless against the rallied militia and aroused pegasus populace. Victory was ours on the south end of the city at no little cost; nearly twelve hundred civilian and militia ponies were slain there with hundreds more wounded, most of the latter falling in the first few minutes as the Knights struck suddenly and their ability to turn militia storm clouds into deadly bombs decimated the garrison.

Songs and history have depicted this as a great triumph of pegasus civilians over Gryphon arms. But the truth is not so simple. Lest anyone think we showed the Knights to be something other than the elite soldiers they were, know that in return for the nearly sixteen hundred total casualties we suffered, including nine hundred militia lost, we only inflicted less than a third of that cost on the Knights, as a hundred and twenty of their original six centuries escaped the city. And even then, almost all their losses were directly or indirectly attributable to the Royal Legion equipment and lightning potions we had equipped ourselves with from the museum…

In effect, as Captain Firefly noted, the Royal Legion reached out from the past and the very pages of history to fight and win one final battle for Cloudsdale, and their old tactics and weaponry would yet play a role in the defense of Equestria to come.

But that lay in the future. The Battle of Cloudsdale was not over; the conflict continued on the other end of the city, where the weather factory lay and an even larger gryphon force had gathered to reduce it. Though exhausted and reeling from our losses, many of us nursing wounds, those of us who were able took flight for it immediately once the militia base was secure, for we still had some fight in us and storm clouds left…

And I had two vials of unused potion I hoped I might yet get a chance to use in a very certain way.

Thank you, Orchard Oriole. Your storytelling and hospitality are appreciated, as was the private tour you gave us of the Royal Legion Museum, which I note with satisfaction now sports an entirely new wing dedicated to the unlikely role the ancient organization played in the great battle… and the war that followed.

Though we had originally intended to conclude the battle in these latest pages, we decided that the final phase of it deserved its own chapter. Therefore, the fourth and final part of this attack—the climactic battle for the weather factory and struggle to save its workers—will be told in the next entry. I will not, however, wait to offer my own thoughts and perspective on it.

—Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

In truth, there is little in this latest chapter I did not already know, having studied the battle extensively and even made it a yearly topic of my tactical classes at the Equestrian Officer Academy. I can point out many mistakes on both sides, and make doing so an exercise for my students. And yet, methinks that ultimately the biggest lesson that can be drawn from the operation on either side is simple:

Never assume anything.

By this I mean: Never assume you can plan for or anticipate everything in a military operation; never assume something can’t or won’t happen. Equestrians made that mistake by believing the city unassailable and not taking the possibility of an attack seriously, whilst the Gryphons did not truly understand what they would be facing or have contingency plans in case their chosen tactics went awry. Their force at the militia base was only adequate to the task if nothing went wrong…

And invariably, something always does.

‘Tis a lesson that holds true for both sides, but more on that later. Before departing for Thunderbolt’s dedication, I was given a personal message by Ambassador Kaval, who told me that an eagless wished a private audience with me and Swift Strike. By her request, we ended up meeting in a secluded pub of Trottingham following a Hearth’s Warming visit there—we tend to rotate who hosts the winter holidays amongst surviving members of the Bolt Knights.

Neither of us knew why until the eagless presented herself and announced in strictest confidence that she was and remains a Raven, engaging in a blade duel with Swift Strike himself and fighting him to nearly a standstill to prove it. She went on to say she had in fact participated in the attack on Cloudsdale so many years ago, one of a fortunate few to escape with her life from there, later leading a raid on the city that succeeded in stealing samples of the Royal Legion lightning potion and shields so the Office of Owls and Magus Legion could develop new countermeasures.

Though surprised by her declaration, we were not alarmed, as the Office of Owls was disbanded and the Ravens heavily reformed following the war. Now loosely modeled after the Lances, the Ravens have become what amounts to a secret warrior society that answers directly to the Queen and highest echelons of the Kingdom’s leadership, tasked with dealing with threats to the gryphon nation that lurk in the shadows.

She was not seeking absolution for her role in the attack or war, she told us, but she had seen Thunderbolt in action that day, losing many comrades and only barely escaping death herself at his hooves, showing us a series of burn and blade scars she’d sustained in the battle. She simply wished to offer him honor on behalf of her organization due a worthy opponent; one who, in the end, almost single-hoofedly thwarted their efforts and prevented the weather factory’s total destruction.

As I’ve been seeking additional gryphon perspectives on the war, I offered her the chance to anonymously pen a passage in the next chapter, but she respectfully declined, reminding me that much like the Lances, the Ravens keep their affairs private and generally do not speak of operations past... even long past. She did, however, ask me to deliver a Raven medallion to Thunderbolt’s statue, noting he had laid their entire organization low that day, reducing their highly adept and accomplished assassins to ‘mere meatshields’ in his presence, in her own words, forcing them to find new means to fight him and address the weaknesses he revealed.

I fulfilled her request and delivered the medallion, where it now sits unmarked alongside the other military honors Thunderbolt received. No gryphons were present at the dedication, not even Gavian, as the attack on Cloudsdale remains a point of contention between the two sides to this day. Pegasi consider it a war crime for the massive and deliberate civilian casualties inflicted, whilst the surviving gryphon soldiers believe the attack was justified given the city’s role in Equestrian weather control—that the weather factory facilities and civilian workers alike were therefore valid targets, and the subsequent uprising of the city populace left them no choice but to strike down soldier and civilian alike. They also consider Thunderbolt a murderer and outright war criminal in return, and not without reason given his penchant for taking no prisoners and oft-appalling willingness to kill noncombatants.

For myself, though I certainly understand the strong feelings at play, I must side with the Imperials in regards to the attack. I would start by noting that Equestrian hooves were far from clean with regards to civilian casualties in this war. The uncomfortable truth is that we committed more than a few atrocities of our own both during the conflict and even preceding it, going all the way back to the prewar Phoenix Fire operation where hundreds of Imperial civilians died and countless more were wounded in the indiscriminate attacks on Altair and Rial.

Indeed, Looking at it from a purely military perspective, the Empire’s only real chance to strike the city with any chance of success was on the first day of the war, when ‘twas closest to the border and not yet reinforced. Had they waited even one more day, the militia would have been fully mobilized by the Gryphon war declaration and the Corps presence at Cloudsdale quadrupled as per existing war plans, making even an attack by a full Knight legion unlikely to succeed against an alerted and prepared city mustering a defending force six thousand strong—four times what they actually faced.

Had their attack failed to knock out the weather factory, ‘tis certain their invasion faced a far greater chance of failure in the face of ramped-up storm cloud production and superstorm strikes against troop concentrations, cities and supply bases—indeed, readers of the original volume will recall that Princess Celestia herself threatened them with such strikes prewar.

At the end of the day, I cannot condemn the attack simply because I recognize the difficulties involved in planning it, and how critical ‘twas to the Imperial war effort. Further, though the Cloudsdale populace was unquestionably heroic in rising up to defend their city, once they did so, they became combatants and lost any and all right to be spared. I honor their bravery and sacrifice, but cannot and will not condemn the gryphons for their deaths. So the only remaining point of contention for me regarding this operation is: were the workers at the factory valid targets, as the gryphons claimed?

You wouldst forgive me, loyal readers, if I must reluctantly say yes given how easily the entire facility could have been converted to storm cloud production and how little retraining the average worker would have needed to make them. The Imperial military did what they must to knock out the factory and ensure ‘twould stay that way, and in the end, I recognize its necessity to their side.

In the end, I blame not so much the Gryphons for the carnage as the endless antipathy between our two sides that led us to this day; the inevitable result of two races who simply refused to understand each other or see things from the other’s point of view. And that is what I now ask of you, dear reader; that in studying these accounts, you attempt to see both sides of this battle and thus the greater war, and understand that nothing in war—particularly this war—is ever as black and white or good-versus-evil as the stories and songs may portray.

God fights on the side with the best artillery. –Napoleon Bonaparte

Author's Note

Sorry for the delay; this one was a long time coming. I was trapped in writer’s block for the longest time with this, not knowing how Clousdale civilians, even if they were Corps veterans, could fight back effectively against the Knights and how they could win with other than basically a Zerg rush, which is very unimaginative and the author’s last resort when he writes himself into a corner. The breakthrough was when I was thinking about what Oriole would be doing nowadays--flight instructor or weather factory worker was too cliche, and something like a cook or florist didn’t seem to suit her. I then came up with, maybe she’s a museum worker. But what kind of museum? Pegasi like their history, especially their marital history, so that’s when the Royal Legion from this latest season popped into mind.

And that in turn is where the idea came from for them to use Royal Legion equipment when the gryphons invaded. They’re working at a museum, so of course they’d grab the old weapons and shields, and everything went from there. I went from writing only 3000 words in a month to the remaining 8000 words in less than a week. Funny how that works, right?

It’s to your benefit, however. I regret I was not able to get new battle maps finished for this, so I’m pushing this out now to keep my promise of a Sunday morning release, though a few hours later than I meant. Had to get in one last preread and run it through Grammarly as well, and then I accidentally copied over part 7 instead of making part 8, so I had to rebuild part 7 completely. Speaking of part 7, I tweaked the ending such that Thunderbolt took less apparent damage but was still tiring. I know people are complaining that he’s too strong, and to that I say, the opening section of this chapter should show he’s not invincible as the second wave of gryphons dealt with him quite brilliantly.

Thanks as always go to Denim_Blue, Silentwoodfire, AJ_Aficionado and Leo Archon for the prereads and feedback, and they were also batting around ideas for side chapters by themselves as guest authors in the google doc comments. I would love for them to do so! The story is a compilation of many different points of view, so why shouldn’t it be a collaboration of multiple authors as well? Be looking for guest chapters centered on new or different characters as we go forward.

The War Begins: 11 - Retaliation

As much as I wish otherwise, ‘tis simply impossible for me to detail all the actions, all the engagements, and all the individual battles that occurred on the first day of the invasion, let alone the entire war.

I can only describe with clarity the ones I myself participated in, and I fear that despite my best efforts it does a grave disservice to all the soldiers who fought and died that day. The desperate first-day defenses of Corps Outposts Alpha, Beta, and Delta, as well as Army bases Red to Blue and the border towns they protected are unsung and unknown; with but one well-known exception, none survived to tell the tale of what happened to them.

Many are the times I wonder even now if we at Outpost Epsilon were better, or just luckier, for regardless of our skill we should still have been among them. The story of how we survived is yet to be told, but perchance there is one part and one individual who should be mentioned now.

Watchtower
Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon border
September 1st, 1139 AC
1430 hours

The news of Gamma’s counterstrike and that we were now planning one of our own was an instant morale boost to my beleaguered troops.

Flight Sergeant Osprey, Master Sergeant Fell Flight, and First Sergeant Still Way were just starting to hash out the rough outlines of our spoiling attack along with me and Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt, the leader of our lightning teams, when my red command gem buzzed. Judging by the tone, it belonged to my fourth platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Snow Squall, who was currently patrolling the Outpost perimeter at a five-mile radius.

“Firefly here. What is it, sir?” I asked into the ruby crystal, though the ‘sir’ was simply a courtesy to his officer bars. Though he outranked me, and indeed was supposed to replace me, I had not been relieved yet, and by the Corps chain of command, as base commander I held authority over all that were assigned to it regardless of rank.

“Ma’am, methinks you won’t believe this, but… we’ve found another Guardspony.”

Sole Survivor

I exchanged looks with an equally surprised Still Way. “Please repeat, Lieutenant? Another Guardspony?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s wounded and exhausted, but he slipped in between Talon patrols. I don’t know where he came from because he’s in such shock ‘tis hard to get much out of him. He doesn’t answer questions; he just keeps asking for you personally, ma’am,” he told me, causing me to exchange another glance with Still Way. “I’m dispatching a flight to bring him to the infirmary now. No other activity to report. The gryphons are scouting, but still not pressing.”

I could only hope they stayed that way a bit longer; if they attacked again too soon we would lose all chance to hit them first. “Understood, Lieutenant. Whoever he is, tell him I’ll meet him there. Continue your patrol and recall your flight as soon as possible. I don’t want you out there understrength.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am. Snow Squall out,” he acknowledged whilst I left my staff to work out the details of the strike and flew out from the watchtower to the infirmary, wanting to find out who this mystery Guardspony was who knew me. I arrived there to find Gavian helping treat the injured whilst Swift Strike watched over him even as he interrogated the few live prisoners we’d captured; ones that were too badly wounded to take their own lives.

Methinks our healer team was as efficient as treating as they were at killing (a compliment ‘tis certain they would not be pleased to hear given they were reluctant warriors to begin with!), though they kept their longbows close at hoof whilst they tended their patients, lightweight unicorn blades given to them by Still Way on their belts along with various bandages and other tools of the medical trade. They had already been told to expect a new casualty and were rapidly clearing a space for him; they had just finished when he arrived, leaning heavily on his escorts, trembling and looking on the verge of collapse.

He was a mess, and ‘tis to my great shame to say I didn’t recognize him at first. He was young, looking barely out of basic, yet he already wore the stripes of a Guardspony Sergeant—which, in hindsight, was part of what threw me; he’d advanced in rank since I last saw him. His Corps-issue wingblades were bloodstained, his armor was badly battered and even partially penetrated at multiple points by blades and crossbow bolts. At least two of the latter were still impaled in him; I didn’t even want to think of how much damage he’d taken for as much of his own blood, some fresh and some dried, was covering him.

It only got worse the longer I stared at him. His helmet was partially bashed in on one side and when I looked closely, I realized there was a broken-off end of a third crossbow bolt lodged in his upper foreleg, causing his visibly broken front left leg to hang limply within a crude sling that appeared to be fashioned from the torn-up pieces of a Corps combat uniform. Meanwhile, the side of his face had been slashed by steel claws and his right hind leg was scorched by Magus Knight fire, some of his fur seared completely off to reveal burned and blackened skin beneath. He also appeared to have been knocked into the ground by the canyon river once or twice judging by the caked sand and mud on his left side and belly.

In visible shock, his eyes were glazed and fixed straight ahead. He didn’t speak or seem aware of his surroundings but obeyed instructions; with effort, he made it to the table on three legs and collapsed there as the healers quickly attended him, stripping his armor and treating his myriad injuries as I waited patiently. ‘Twas only when his helmet was removed and I saw his full face that I realized who he was, and my jaw dropped open to see him.

“Sky Sentry?” I gaped at him, recognizing a graduate of the Armored Guardspony class that had followed mine; a promising young pegasus stallion I’d later fought a friendly duel with. “How did you get here?” He’d been assigned to Outpost Delta, I remembered, and that meant he must have flown from there all the way to Epsilon in that state; a distance of one hundred twenty miles!

At the sound of my voice, he turned his head weakly to face me. “S-Sergeant F-Firefly…?” he finally managed in a weak and shaky voice, staring at me in wonder and then reaching his good hoof out for me like he wasn’t sure I was real or if he was still alive. “D-didn’t know if… Epsilon was still st-standing. Th-thought you might all be d-dead…”

“I’m here, Sergeant.” I quickly took his hoof as a healer took advantage of his distraction to reset his arm bone with a sharp but mercifully short crack!, causing him to grit his teeth and hiss hard, then lie back in relief again, looking straight up into the ceiling as healing magic was applied and his many wounds were tended. He’d expressed a certain interest in me before, perhaps the first stallion ever to, and the terms of the duel we’d fought were that I would allow him to indulge that interest if he won and put in for his transfer to Epsilon. I’d won the duel instead, for which he’d bought me and my sister dinner. But I’d taken a instant liking of my own to him in the process, and ‘twould be a lie to say there weren’t times I didn’t at least mildly regret losing. “You’re safe now, and you’re going to be fine. My healers will take good care of you. But why didst you come here?”

“I... I...” He looked like he was fighting his own memories for a moment. “I d-didn’t know where else to g-go after...” His lip was beginning to quiver.

“Sergeant?” I tried again, feeling a deep pit forming in my stomach as I guessed the answer to my next question even before I asked it. “What happened to Outpost Delta?”

He didn’t look at or answer me except for the tears that began streaming down his cheeks.

And so another mighty warrior stands revealed. Let all who read this on both former sides know that Sky Sentry was a magnificent fighter, one of the finest I ever was privileged to meet in mortal combat. He was a stallion who battled with aplomb and abandon no matter what the odds, fighting valiantly for all that he held dear… which I daresay did include you, Captain.

But that story is not mine to know or tell. Though the first’s day’s operations were by then generally going well, especially considering we had been forced to launch it on such short notice, some threats to our advance were still apparent, including a major one mounting right under our collective wings.

—Layan Kaval

Imminent Action

Imperial HQ bunker
Raptor Base
Opposite Outpost Gamma
September 1st, 1139 AC
1445 hours

Raptor Base was in an uproar.

Word had reached us of an unexpected strike from the combined Millennium-sized Equestrian Army/Aerial Corps garrison at Gamma, which had surprised one of our staging areas and wrecked it with the loss of nearly an entire Talon cohort, killing its commander and crushing its rank-and-file.

We had thought the Gamma garrison was pinned, but it turned out we weren’t the only ones who had tunnels—Captain Sirocco, the accomplished and aggressive commander of the Equestrian Aerial Corps 5th Division, had secretly dug a few of her own over the years for just this occasion and they’d worked with deadly effect—half her forces burst out of the ground right on top of one of our assembly areas, decimating its resting Talons with storm clouds and a rain of unicorn arrows before overrunning the remainder with Earth Pony troops, who destroyed the barely-established base and slaughtered its defenders before quickly withdrawing back into their tunnels before reinforcements could reach them.

It had been a very well-planned and conceived operation, over in less than five minutes, and worse, there were also reports that Gamma pegasi were ambushing our airborne patrols via the same method, bursting out of the ground beneath our low-flying troops to inflict dozens more casualties and forcing the Talons to not patrol in any size formation smaller than a century. Magus Knights had found and caved in the tunnels they used quickly, and the Diamond Dogs had promised they would search for and destroy any others, but the damage was done; we were forced to commit more forces to the siege of Gamma and keep our troops on constant alert were they to try that trick again.

“’Twould appear, my friend, that I did not give Sirocco enough credit…” A glowering Gaius noted to me once he had issued additional orders and we were alone. “I knew she was capable of a counterstrike, but I did not foresee her methods or that she would attack so soon.”

“We had no intelligence that she had tunnels of her own, my lord,” I offered a defense. “‘Twould seem a major oversight on the part of the Owls.”

His eyes narrowed at my words. His opinion of the Office of Owls—and my own—had been markedly lowered of late, as we learned that they had kept secret the theft of our invasion maps right out of the Citadel’s war room in our Imperial capital of Mosclaw for weeks. Worse, they had then covered up their own massive failure of security by attempting to stop the shapeshifting thief behind it with Ravens alone, not informing us of their pursuit until it was too late for us to assist.

The assassins had given chase and by at least one report wounded their quarry, but ultimately failed in their task to stop the Changeling spy before it reached the border. We did not then know the final fate of the creature or its pursuers, but having lost contact with them, we had no choice but to assume (correctly) that our war plans had been delivered to Equestria and, faced with a potentially disastrous loss of surprise, launch the invasion seven weeks early with barely half our intended forces in place.

Still, tempted though he was to blame them, he did not. “Intelligence or no, I fear our blindness to pony military acumen has raised its head again, my friend. We keep thinking that we alone can come up with good tactics or strategies. Once again, the lie of that conceit has been proven,” he growled, his tail twitching as he tapped his talons on the stone table. “And thus, we are now forced to assault Gamma sooner rather than later, lest she tie up too many of our Talons in the siege.”

‘Twas at that moment that Livia Cassius Junius, ever one to tweak her rival, chose to enter. “I have read the reports. Another cohort crushed, I see. So then… still think not striking Gamma at dawn was the proper course of action, Prelate?” the Primarch of Paladins all but sneered. “Perchance we would have suffered high casualties, but they would hardly have had soldiers left to spare for ambushing us later.”

“They could just as easily have used those tunnels to blindside any attacking force, Primarch,” Gaius retorted, though a note of annoyance in his voice told me a nerve had been touched. “Hard as it may be to believe, the ponies do have good soldiers and the mind and will to use them. You may be assured they will fight and find ways to sting us. What will define the success or failure of this campaign is how quickly both sides adapt to the tactics of the other,” he told her. “‘Tis true they destroyed one of ten cohorts belonging to the 30th legion. A notable loss, but not a crippling one. They have exposed their tactic, and now that we are aware of it, it will not work again!” he pledged.

The lie of that statement was given almost instantly when there was the sound of an explosion down the tunnels, shaking the ceiling and causing a small amount of dirt and dust to rain down. Though we knew the Diamond Dog tunnels were sturdy, we couldn’t help but momentarily fear a collapse, but we soon had other things to worry about as intrusion alarms sounded throughout the complex, announcing that impossibly, the Gamma garrison had somehow found our bunker and broken in.

I swiftly drew one of my two swords and took a combat stance, shifting to guard the entrance to the Prelate’s office. Despite the danger, I couldn’t help but smile as my senses instantly flared into fighting readiness. For ‘twas then I knew my fondest and deepest wish was about to be granted:

That I would indeed be seeing combat in the campaign.

And I pity those who were unfortunate enough to face you, Ambassador, and look forward to hearing your account of the action in the next chapter, of which our own reports were but fragmentary.

But before we can return to Raptor and Epsilon, we must finish the fight at Cloudsdale, which by now was just reaching its climactic phase. The Gryphon Wind Knights had been driven off from the militia base, but a second, larger force of Knights and Ravens were still trying to destroy the weather factory.

For all of Thunderbolt’s heroics that day, the most notable of which have yet to be shown, methinks his one critical act was not the heavy losses he inflicted or even the hundreds he initially saved. As will soon become apparent, he cost the gryphons the one thing they had least to spare in this operation…

Time.

—Firefly

Perchance you are correct, Captain, but ‘twas a double-edged sword. For time worked against us as well as we struggled to ready ourselves for another battle, knowing that the militia base was safe but the weather factory was not.

We were exhausted and reeling from our losses after the first fight, but we knew we could not quit now; not so long as the weather factory was still endangered and our friends and families there remained under dire threat.

So once the immediate area was secure, we spared but a few minutes to rest and lick our wounds. Those of us still able and willing to fight hastily reorganized ourselves for additional action, joining forces with the surviving militia before taking flight for the other end of the city.

‘Twould be there that we would enter the fight once more.

—Orchard Oriole

Cloudsdale
Two miles southeast of Weather Factory
September 1st, 1139 AC
1325 hours

Retaliation

We flew along, heading for the fires and sounds of battle in the distance, once more joined along the way by dozens of additional civilians wanting to fight but seeking strength in numbers.

There were well over a thousand of us as we neared the other end of Cloudsdale, a mixed civilian/military force now placed under the command of the senior surviving militia officer. And this time, we had three hundred militia ponies at our core—all that was left of the twelve hundred on-duty soldiers they’d started the morning with after the Knights had gotten through with them.

They could have given up, but they did not—incensed at their losses and the sneak attack they’d suffered, they were determined to fulfill their stated duty to defend Cloudsdale and show the Gryphons that they were not to be taken lightly. And having formed three century-sized phalanxes to fight with that were now properly supported and backed by storm clouds, ‘twas certain they could do some serious damage to the Knight formations despite their archaic tactics.

Especially given those tactics were now enhanced by equipment of yore. Seeing how effective the Royal Legion shields were, the militia forces were now using them at my suggestion. They placed one in the possession of their leader at the apex of their cone-shaped phalanxes, stretching out their formations so that all soldiers in it would remain within its protective shadow, safe from Magus if not from crossbow attack.

This would, in theory, allow them to approach enemy formations with their mass of soldiers intact and grind up any Knight unfortunate enough to be caught within their spear-studded net.

Meanwhile, I was now commanding an entire company, which ‘twas a post to which I’d never ascended in the Corps. My force consisted of mostly civilians led by those retired or off-duty Corps and militia veterans amongst us, commanding squads and platoons and now armed with purloined Knight blades in addition to the ones we’d brought with us.

We’d likewise stripped some of their armor and helmets off bodies that hadn’t fallen through the clouds, sparing the Royal Legion armor for our stallions whilst we added Knight pauldrons and foreleg covers to our own protective ensembles. Unfortunately, their chestplates and other armor were simply too large, heavy, or ill-fitting for most of us to wear.

‘Twas even more remarkable now that I look back on it—that all of us, whether militia or civilian, were still willing to fight despite the extreme losses we suffered. But whether it was due to pegasus warrior heritage or simply the fear of losing our friends and family, our fighting blood was collectively up, and we reacted to the presence of the gryphons invading our ancestral home as a swarm of hornets—or better yet, flash bees—would defending their nests.

Except the electric sting we could generate was far more powerful and lethal. And better yet, as we had the first inklings by then, our storm cloud ‘stingers’ were completely immune to their counterspells.

As we neared, we found that other improvised civilian forces had already attempted to engage the Knights and break their cordon around the Weather Factory and the Corps base at Fort Tempest. Unfortunately, and as might well have been the case with us at the Militia base were it not for the presence of our Royal Legion shield and storm clouds, they had been enveloped and annihilated, leaving scores dead and hundreds more pegasi outside their perimeter patrols unable to break inside.

The gryphon numbers were greater than those at the militia base, but we were beyond caring, especially as we saw the first evidence of the worker massacres that had occurred inside, seeing destroyed buildings and grey-dyed Ravens flitting here and there to hunt down any hiding survivors.

The Knights reacted with some visible consternation as they saw our large and well-organized formation approach, immediately summoning several additional centuries of their own as reinforcements.

Knowing they were on the way, we didn’t waste time replying to their Magus’ shouted orders to not approach them. Ignoring them, our militia commander immediately directed our twenty storm teams to form a battle line. Several were now crewed by more experienced militia soldiers with better aim, and having already organized them into three batteries, he assigned one to the center and the others to each flank, intending to bracket the growing Knight formation and punch a hole right through the middle of their massed airborne forces.

Their orders given, our storm teams swiftly assembled for action under the protection of militia and Royal Legion shields, an entire militia phalanx and several improvised civilian platoons further guarding each.

Word had apparently not reached the Knights on this side of the city that their anti-cloud spells were ineffective, as they attempted to duplicate their earlier tactics against us. And this time we allowed them to do it, even daring them to as we pushed our formations close to the clouds to more effectively cover them with our shields, meaning that if their spells did work, we’d all be killed at once.

‘Twas a lure, and one methinks was worthy of any predator as they drew closer in anticipation of slaying us with our own storm clouds. With a smug voice informing us that we would die unless we withdrew, their sub-Tribune commander waited but half a minute more before ordering her mages to open up on us. All whilst we simply waited for it, now wearing smug looks of our own, knowing and eagerly anticipating the reversal of fortune we were about to inflict.

And thus, when their magical beams impacted the clouds with nothing more than a weak sizzling sound, our retaliation came instantly in the form of a massed twenty-bolt volley that crashed into their ordered ranks and shattered them, hard on the heels of which came the militia troops under the protective fire of additional volleys that kept the gryphons from massing to meet the attack or otherwise reacting effectively. The looser and more extended militia formations dropped several dozen Knights on their first pass, taking only a few casualties of their own, and none from Magus fire as the Royal Legion shields at their apex proved very effective at deflecting violet-tinged magus lightning and orange gouts of fire.

With the lightning-and-shield protected militia leading the way and showing surprising effectiveness against the elite Gryphon warriors for now having proper equipment and support, we broke through the Knights onto the grounds of the weather factory and immediately fanned out, two centuries of militia troops supported by the bulk of our storm teams heading to the relief of the besieged Corps battalion at Fort Tempest whilst the third century and five storm clouds made for the central grounds, heading towards an area the Ravens and Knights were circling like vultures…

At the center of which was a single pony trapped within three shield spells into which a fourth mage was pouring fire.

Thank you, Orchard Oriole. ‘Twas good to meet you for the first time and be able to swap war stories and other tales with you following the commemoration. ‘Twas even better to finally be able to learn the identity of the one in large measure responsible for our rescue, through your Royal Legion gear and suggested tactics.

I would invite you for a personal tour of the Storm Cloud Factory in return for the one you gave us of the museum, so that you may see the ongoing influence the Royal Legion cloud potion has had on us going forward. I also invite you and your family to have dinner with mine, as repayment for your hospitality and battles past.

Until then, ‘tis time for me to finish my own tale of this battle, painful though ‘tis to remember. But for the sake of history and my sister, and in honor of Thunderbolt and those who fell there, I will continue.

—Morning Glory

Inside the damaged Rainbow Factory, we were unaware of the approach of a potential relief force as we hurriedly continued to barricade every possible entrance we could.

Methinks I had all but given up on life at that point, settling into my role of soldier with surprising ease and no longer noticing or caring about all the dead bodies around me, some of which were my own friends. It scared me how readily I was now ignoring the carnage and how willing I suddenly was to kill, but either due to Thunderbolt’s talk or a desperate desire to live up to the example of my big sister, I brandished a blade and stationed my squad to ambush whoever came through the entrance first as Thunderbolt’s one-winged friend Virga set up a kill zone in the building lobby. ‘Twould do us little good if they simply decided to have their mages rain death on us from above, but in that case, Virga’s orders were to guard a shrinking perimeter whilst others dug their way out through a hole in the floor into the city cloudbase and hid in an improvised bunker beneath the building he had the younger stallions excavating.

‘Twas unlikely we would survive that long if they started burning or blasting us out, but we didn’t question it. Indeed, he didn’t explain, and he didn’t have to; he was doing what any mare would in his place: trying to ensure the youngest males lived, even at the expense of the rest of us.

Virga himself clearly intended to die with us, refusing all pleas to leave, saying he was never going to have foals anyway after all that happened to him; that he would die now as he should have died with Thunderbolt and their promised mares at the Inland Shores settlements. He wielded a Raven sword in his mouth as he stood between two of our remaining three storm clouds positioned to bracket the front entrances, ready to direct what was certain to be our final stand. We assumed Thunderbolt was already dead at that point and we would follow shortly, until we heard a fresh series of crashing booms—volleyed lightning fire!—followed by the sounds of battle getting steadily closer again. We chanced a look out to see…

Well. Methinks mere words cannot do it justice, either the sight, or the emotions it brought. So I will simply say that what we beheld was no more and no less than...

Salvation.

You are very welcome, Morning Glory, and ‘twas good to meet you as well. I believe I will take you up on your offer sooner rather than later, and offer your family dinner in return with my own.

—Orchard Oriole

Whilst assembling our forces outside the base perimeter to breach the Knight formations with lightning, our commander, Synta Spring Wind of the Cloudsdale militia (‘Synta’ being a militia rank roughly equivalent to a Corps Sky Sergeant), elected to divide our forces, something I thought he was foalish to do. Our potency and potential threat to the Gryphon Knights was in our mass, I felt, much as it had been back at the militia base when we overwhelmed them with our improvised artillery, ancient shields and sheer numbers, compensating for their greater skill at battle. We also weren’t facing Ravens then, whose skill at close combat and propensity for surprise strikes was legendary.

Nevertheless, he did so upon seeing the secondary action near the Rainbow Factory, guessing it was a major and ongoing point of pegasus resistance for the gryphons to have committed an entire Knight century and at least four Magi to the effort.

As we neared, we were as surprised as anypony to see they were seemingly focused on but one figure, whose identity became clear as we got closer—the legendary Lieutenant Thunderbolt! The hero of Phoenix Fire (or so we then believed), his skill in battle was said to be amazing, and suddenly it made more sense why the gryphons were focusing so much force and effort on him if he was responsible for all the dead Knight and Raven bodies apparent on roofs and non-cloud surfaces. The Knight century spotted us in some alarm and shifted to fight us as they saw at least three times their number winging in with a fully formed cone-shaped militia phalanx at its core, two of the mages turning their attention on us whilst the other two maintained their efforts against Thunderbolt himself.

With word received that our clouds were immune to Magus spellcasting, the Knights wasted little time in opening up on us with lightning and crossbows firing explosive bolts, trying to disrupt the approaching phalanx. But the militia’s loosened formation and the cover of their Royal Legion shields minimized their casualties, deflecting spellcasting and keeping their greater mass of their century-sized formation intact as they plunged right towards Thunderbolt whilst our storm teams covered them, which were in turn protected by my company of civilians.

‘Twas then a series of crossbow bolts impacted our formation from below, causing several of our number to fall from the sky with a series of pained cries. I looked down to see… three teams of Ravens rising to meet us, seeing easy targets of untrained civilians wielding improvised weapons. The ‘gunner’ of a cloud we were guarding was hit, so I had Blue Jay take over, as she, like me, had served time on a storm team whilst in the Corps. We knew weather combat well, so I immediately ordered all those who knew how to alter their clouds to fire a ‘scattershot’ bolt, which means a bolt that quickly splits and splits again many times into multiple forks, branching out into a broad cone.

‘Twas an excellent close combat weapon and a means for storm teams to fend off swarming attacks from enemy infantry, but ‘twas also only good at short range as the spreading sparks attenuated at any real distance. I waited until they were within twenty yards despite the pleas of my company to fire, and only gave the order to strike when most of the Ravens could be caught in the net.

Lacking the armor of the Knights, they were all caught by the net of forked bolts, and whilst not all of the strikes were lethal hits, the electric shock stunned many of them long enough to fall to the cloudbase below. One unlucky Raven was struck at the base of the left wing, the appendage nearly shorn off; she screeched in dismay as she fell, likely to her demise. Having no protection against such an attack, the remaining Ravens tried to swoop around us to take us from the rear only to find that we didn’t have to turn the clouds around to fire them in a different direction; we just had to dart behind them again. After suffering another decade or more of casualties due to lack of armor or countermeasures, their remaining numbers retreated to sniping with crossbow bolts, unable to approach.

‘Twas just as well, as we were down to our final bolts, and I didn’t have time to add more lightning potion to them.

In the meantime, though down a third of their force due to accurate Knight crossbow fire and slashing sword attacks from their squad-sized decade units—to their credit, the militia troops were well-trained in their tactics and simply closed up their forces around their losses, rearward troops moving up to fill the gaps—the phalanx reached the first mage and his dozen protectors trying to keep a choking Thunderbolt caged, forcing him to abandon his effort and see to his own safety, casting a shield spell around himself as the militia crashed in, chewing up the Knights within their ranks though they took an equal number of casualties to do it. They succeeded in bringing down the first mage with the Royal Legion shield, which the Gryphons learned then could not only deflect but also disrupt magical auras, collapsing his shield on contact and rendering him vulnerable to spears and wingblades.

It should be noted that here at the start of the war, the non-Magus Knights were excellent fighters in possession of superb weapons and armor, but the Magus themselves, once you got past their magical tricks, were not, armed with only a short sword and a cloak meant to deflect unicorn curses, not blades. ‘Twas a weakness of theirs that ‘twould not be addressed quickly, and we took full advantage; with only a few bolts left I spent them all on the second magus, forcing her to pull back and release a badly weakened Thunderbolt, who fell half-dead to the cloudbase below, gasping for air.

We had freed him and crippled another Knight century as well as taking out another score of Ravens, but to what end? Our clouds were spent, and as still more troops gathered against us as the gryphons either finished off the Fort and its Corps defenders or simply abandoned their siege of it, shifting their forces to counter the two-pronged attack they were then facing, I wasn’t sure I had enough time to reload our clouds. I could only hope they didn’t realize that as I pulled out the two lightning potion vials in my possession and passed one to Blue Jay, hoping for just another minute. But as the Knights gained the upper hand on the militia troops who freed Thunderbolt, who was still too weak to fight, it dawned on them that our fire had stopped. ‘Twas then they realized we were defenseless and began to streak in to crush us…

But they never made it to us, oblivious to the threat closing on them from directly overhead until it was too late.

Indeed, old friend, and we in the Rainbow Factory were all but delirious with joy to see it.

This is Virga Veil, and before I describe the events to follow, Methinks there is something worth mentioning. For those who are unaware of the connection, Thunderbolt knew Windshear, as they served together at Outpost Beta before the IS-2 incident, and they did remain friends afterwards. As I also served there, I knew him as well, and though he was certainly a magnificent soldier in his own right, ‘tis certain that not even he could have fought as brilliantly or as savagely as Thunderbolt did this day.

By an odd quirk of fate, Windshear did not participate in the Phoenix Fire operation, as he was ordered to stay behind and assume command of Beta whilst the operation was ongoing, guarding the border against potential gryphon retaliation. ‘Twas supposed to be but a temporary post, but one he stayed in for a year afterwards before moving on to train Corps recruits at Fort Stratus.

My memory remains poor of most things prior to IS-2, but one thing I do recall clearly was that Windshear oft said that tricks of battlefield fate like that one decided who would win or lose, live or die. Such it was for both us and the gryphons that day, as it took a confluence of fortuitous events and timing for us to live and the Gryphon raid to be driven off.

Case in point, I couldn’t believe our luck as not one, but two relief forces reached us within minutes of each other, trapping the gryphons between the proverbial gale and a hailstorm, forcing them to face two equal threats at once and into a fight that in the end, they could not possibly win.

—Virga Veil

Out of the Sun

As Morning Glory has stated, I was ready to die, and was indeed awaiting it, certain that despite all we had already accomplished and as many minor battles as we had already won, we simply could not survive much longer. Thunderbolt was gone, ‘twas certain in my mind, and I would now follow him, deciding I could rest in peace knowing we had done our duty to Equestria.

‘Twas an oddly serene feeling, I found. After having wondered for so long why I had survived that terrible day, on this day, I finally found an answer, and for it, I was ready to die if it meant saving at least some of our stallions and other workers; inflicting as many losses on our hated foe as I could.

‘Twas an acceptance I had only then arrived that as our last thin threads of hope were cut. Those hopes had risen with the coming of the militia-led relief force, spiking hard as they inflicted significant losses and even saved Thunderbolt, but fell again quickly afterwards. Thunderbolt was now in no shape to fight, Knight numbers were simply too great and the militia clouds, whatever their nature (methinks I had no idea what sorcery had been used that they were firing gold-colored bolts!), simply couldn’t sustain their fire forever. In the Corps, each storm team would have a ‘runner’ that would retrieve fresh clouds from supply as one was being used up, but here, that wasn’t an option.

I was actively considering dashing out to pull Thunderbolt back inside, Ravens be damned, hoping our meager medical supplies might revive him. But I quickly realized that would be suicidal as the Knights regained the upper hoof and began to grind down the invading force. They were suddenly swarming all over the weather factory where before it had just been a few plus the Ravens; they’d clearly been released from the siege of Fort Tempest to fight. And fight they did, moving to envelop the invading civilian and militia formations with their superior weapons and soldiers, determined to finish the job in spite of their losses. They were well-trained warriors, and our fate once again seemed sealed…

Until many hundreds of blue-uniformed figures with gleaming blades dove right out of the midday sun on them, blindsiding them in a classic Corps tactic, dropping nearly two centuries of elite Gryphon soldiers in mere seconds! We did not know it then, but ‘twas a reinforcing brigade from the Aerial Corps 1st Division, six hundred soldiers dispatched to Cloudsdale from Outposts Mu and Nu with all deliberate speed by Princess Celestia herself. To them—and to her—we owe our lives as they took the Knights completely by surprise and threw them into disorder, their slashing wingblades and hit-and-run, 4-on-1 tactics as per standard Corps combat doctrine decimating their centuries in a matter of moments.

A ragged cheer went up from my defending forces as for the first time, we thought we might yet live, and this time, I did dispatch several volunteers to dash out and bring Thunderbolt back. But ‘twasn’t necessary as the Corps commander recognized our still-standing building as an improvised command center and flew down to present himself, entering and asking who was in charge, removing his helmet to reveal…

“Rolling Thunder!” I exclaimed, reflexively saluting my former drill sergeant during basic training at Fort Stratus so many years earlier as he dispatched a hundred soldiers to secure the grounds, and a squad brought Thunderbolt and several other wounded back with them, swiftly and efficiently establishing a perimeter under his direction. A thirty-year Corps veteran, back then, he’d been but an SFC, but now wore the stripes of a Sergeant Major; last I’d heard he was the ranking trainer at Fort Stratus, having turned down an appointment to the Equestrian Officer Academy on several occasions to remain at the Fort doing what he loved.

A slightly portly but still-potent dark grey pegasus stallion with a graying mane of close-cropped pale blue hair—woe to the many raw recruits who tried to challenge him over the years for being slightly overweight only to find out quickly how well he could actually fight!—he turned to me and returned the salute with the same smirk he often wore whilst berating Corps recruits during basic. “Trainee Virga,” he instantly recognized me, as he had an uncanny ability to recall every pony he’d ever taught in a quarter-century at Fort Stratus, as well as all their shortcomings. “I’d ask how in Celestia’s name you could possibly be working at the weather factory given how poor you were at weather work back in basic, but methinks such questions can wait. We have a battle to fight here,” he told me as Thunderbolt was carried in by a full flight of Corps mares and lowered gently to the floor. He threw off the helping hooves and struggled to his own, saw Rolling Thunder, and then saluted in genuine surprise and respect.

“Sir!” he offered through a coughing fit, his bloodlust momentarily forgotten to my great relief. “Methinks I never thought I would be so glad to see you, sir!”

“And methinks you bore the officer rank, not me, Trainee!” he said like he was back in basic correcting a recruit, but still returned the gesture. “I would have hoped you got better at proper address of superiors than you were then!”

For one of the few times I’d known him, Thunderbolt looked chagrined. “My apologies, Sergeant Major,” he said, finally allowing Corps medics to attend him, fresh air and healing balms quickly reviving him. “But… why are you here and not at Fort Stratus, sir?” Like me, he simply couldn’t get out of the habit of calling our old Drill Sergeant by the officer honorific.

This time, Rolling Thunder let it go. “I was giving a training seminar at Outpost Mu when news of the invasion came followed by orders from Canterlot to rush reinforcements to Cloudsdale. The base commander was absent, so as ranking pony, I led the force. ‘Twould seem we arrived in the nick of time,” he commented, turning toward the shattered windows to observe the continuing action; his soldiers making the most of their temporary advantage to even up the numbers of the two sides before the gryphons could reform their ranks. “So what’s our situation?”

We told him shortly as several militia officers and two civilian mares wearing old-style Royal Legion helmets along with Gryphon Knight pauldrons and foreleg vambraces were brought in, both of whom started upon seeing Thunderbolt and myself.

I knew I’d seen them before but couldn’t remember their names, even cued by their colors. Thunderbolt, however, did. “Orchard! BJ!” he recognized the herd mares of our old comrade Windshear, who’d introduced them to us at the Summer Sun Celebration military ball mere months before the IS-2 incident.

To little surprise, Rolling Thunder instantly recognized them as well. “Trainees Oriole and Blue Jay,” he acknowledged them to their surprise, causing the orange and blue mares to instantly stand at rigid attention and salute even though they were over two decades removed from their Corps service. “Why am I not surprised you’re in the middle of this? Methinks the only thing you two excelled at was troublemaking. Still think sneaking in to my office and putting ink on my spyglass back in basic was a good idea?” He all but growled as he gave them a mock glower, causing the pair to reflexively cringe… and me as well, scarcely able to imagine what punishment he’d given them and their now-dead sister Cardinal after.

Blue Jay spoke for both of them. “We will perform as many wing-ups and wind sprints as you wish, sir… after we’ve won this battle!” The pair went on to explain how they’d come to be there and how they’d beaten the Knights at the militia base, and then used the same tactics to bloody the gryphons badly here at the weather factory.

“The Royal Legion…” Rolling Thunder shook his head and chuckled, and I couldn’t help but do the same, amazed that their ancient weapons and tactics could be useful once again. “We couldn’t bring any clouds of our own with us over that distance, and methinks from what you say they’re more dangerous to us than the gryphons anyway. Do you have any more of that potion?” he asked, to which they produced but two small half-full vials, the remaining liquid of which they said held only around twenty bolts each.

Rolling Thunder grimaced, and so did I. “Methinks that’s not enough to defeat their remaining mages or dent their numbers significantly,” he told us as a messenger appeared to inform us that the gryphons were now regrouping around the remains of the storm cloud factory, badly weakened but still possessing sufficient numbers to beat us back. “So be it. ‘Twould seem we’ll have to do this the hard way…” he buckled his helmet back on and deployed his wingblades. “Stay here, trainees! You’ve done plenty and fought well. The Corps will finish this.”

“The hay I will, sir!” Thunderbolt flared his wings in anger and brought his hoof down hard; the dangerous gleam returning to his eyes. “I’m not stopping as long as there’s more gryphons to slay!” he exclaimed as some wounded Corps soldiers were brought in.

Rolling Thunder stared at him for a moment, than nodded, perchance deciding he’d have more to worry about if he denied Thunderbolt’s desire to fight than if he acceded. “As you wish. Welcome back to active duty, Lieutenant.” He instructed one of the wounded soldiers to remove their wingblades and offered them to Thunderbolt instead. “I do request, however, that you not pull rank on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Thunderbolt answered as he pulled on the wingblade harness and a wounded soldier’s helmet, shrugging his shoulders to deploy the former. He took a few experimental swipes to test the fit, nodded in satisfaction and spread his wings to take flight, only to stop short, turning to face the two mares, and odd and dangerous smile breaking his burned and bloodied face.

“So tell me, Orchard… these Royal Legion lightning potions of yours. Is there any way to use them other than adding them drop by drop to clouds...?”

There was indeed, though methinks Thunderbolt’s presence made their use in such a manner immeasurably more dangerous… to both sides. We knew Thunderbolt had a lightning affinity from what Windshear had said, but had no idea how potent or deadly it truly was.

—Orchard Oriole

Victory

We emerged within five minutes to find the battle had stabilized into a standoff with both sides possessing equal numbers of Knights and Corps Soldiers, but even with their sharply reduced ranks, the gryphons still held the Storm Cloud factory, having finally and rather brutally crushed the militia-led assault directed there. ‘Twas clear by then they had given up on reducing the entire facility, but were attempting to complete the destruction of their most vital target before departing.

We would not let them escape, not if the fresh strategy we came up with had any success. With two reinforced battalions at his command supported by several hundred civilians and scattered militia troops, Rolling Thunder directed us to push them back towards the storm cloud factory, which we already considered lost. ‘Twas key, however, to making sure the price the Knights and Ravens paid for the bloody raid was total. The Knights sparred with the Corps soldiers with some success until Thunderbolt returned to the fight, and I was awestruck to see him in action; an unstoppable killing machine that dropped two dozen elite soldiers in the space of a minute. His presence forced the gryphons to fall back on their interior lines and keep under the protection of their mages…

Exactly as we wished them to. With their remaining six hundred or so soldiers gathered tight around the storm cloud factory whilst the Ravens set charges to bring the fortified facility down completely, we passed the cloud vials to Thunderbolt. I honestly didn’t know if what he was planning would work, but ‘twas certain he was also the only one who could survive it if it did.

After Rolling Thunder feinted an attack from the north to pull some of the gryphon forces away, Thunderbolt shot towards the storm cloud factory from the southwest, and for once he didn’t stop to slay any gryphons… perchance because he knew full well that if he succeeded, he would slay them all.

Dodging bolts and magus fire from the gryphon troops, he flew at his considerable top speed right for the ground in front of the damaged facility, landed in the middle of a group of surprised Knights and Ravens, including what appeared to be a Knight commander. He spoke to them in Aeric, perchance informing them they were all about to die, raised a vial of lightning potion as if in toast to them, and then...

He drank it!

At first, nothing happened as the gryphons hastily drew their weapons, but then his eyes and very cutie mark glowed gold and we could all feel a static charge building in the air. The potion charged him as he’d never been before, and suddenly, he was a living lightning battalion as bolts erupted from him in every direction, each uncannily aimed at the nearby gryphons, who he slaughtered in seconds, forcing the remainder to flee. Their leadership destroyed, he then carried out the second part of the plan as the first vial was spent, using his final bolts to blast open a wall to a storm cloud storage vault other workers present knew the location of. He disappeared inside, the gryphons afraid to follow him, and barely a minute later…

The clouds beneath our hooves rippled and there was a growing rumble as if an airborne earthquake was occurring. The second way the Royal Legion could use their lightning potion was as a massive bomb—if you could toss a vial of the potion into a large cloud, it would erupt with not just the potion’s lightning, but release all the natural bolts it had already stored as well and at once, much as the magus spell caused the militia clouds to do. But those were just single clouds. For when tossed into the storm cloud vaults of the weather factory…

The building all but exploded in lightning, shattering it from the inside. Massive numbers of jagged sparks reached hundreds of meters into the air and all around, like giant scattershot bolts that caught almost all the gryphons in their lethal net. We pulled back as the remaining Knights and Ravens were all but annihilated by the massive explosion of electricity, a mixture of gold Royal Legion and the more typical blue-tinged Corps bolts that erupted out of the ruptured storage vaults with devastating effect, destroying the building and everything within three hundred yards.

‘Twas a spectacular and deadly display, and once it was done, the dazed remainder of the leaderless gryphons were easy prey for Rolling Thunder’s full-strength brigade, which attacked and drove off what little was left of their once-overwhelming force with the loss of nearly ninety percent of their original numbers.

And all thanks to one pony, who inflicted such grievous losses in an act of incredible sacrifice, one he was not likely to survive. To this day, I wonder if Thunderbolt actually had a death wish—’twould be a lie to say that I did not at times, like here—but methinks the answer was truly no. And why?

Because as he told me once, he wished for redemption and atonement above all, to break the hold his killing demons had over him. If he died there, he would have neither even if the Gryphons were slain. But by living, he could not only serve Equestria once more, but himself as well.

—Virga Veil
Instructor
Weather Factory Training Center
Cloudsdale

… As a Battle Won

It was done.

When we entered the ruins later, we found Thunderbolt seared and his fur still smoking under a pile of rubble… but also very much alive. To little surprise, the first thing he asked when he was pulled free was, were all the gryphons dead? The answer was yes, and with that, his bloodlust left him and he emerged with some help to the cheers of civilians and Corps soldiers alike. ‘Twas only then that he allowed himself to accept their acclaim—something he never did after Phoenix Fire for the atrocities he committed—and this time, he would accept decoration for his actions…

Once he made it out of the hospital, that was, where he would spent the next several days with severe burns and internal injuries in addition to his myriad blade and bolt wounds. But the battle could not have been won without him, nor could hundreds of weather factory workers have been saved and later able to rebuild.

The gryphons may consider him a villain, but to me and many others, he is the greatest of heroes, a pony who wielded a terrible gift ultimately in service to others and saved countless lives with it. He was my friend and my comrade, and perchance I choose now to live simply to keep his memory—that of my oldest and dearest friend—alive.

We all believe the same, my new friend. He will never be anything less than a hero in my own eyes as well. He saved us all, and somehow even turned me, the most unwarlike pony in existence, into a soldier in the process. I respect him as I do few others… save perchance you, Fell Flight.

—Sky Sergeant Morning Glory
Head of Storm Cloud Production
Cloudsdale Weather Factory
Cloudsdale

I was alive.

I was alive, and I didn’t know how.

If ‘twas a great victory, it did not feel like it as we picked through the remains of the weather factory cafeteria, looking for those we knew even as we prayed we wouldn’t. The wail of children finding their brutally slain parents and vice-versa is a sound nopony should ever have to make or hear, but one that was heard all too often that day. No pony should ever go looking for their family among the dead, and in the end…

You will forgive me captain, that even thirty years later, ‘tis still very painful for me to recall that search, and what it resulted in. And you will forgive me as well, if from this point forward I decline to detail my wartime experiences further as I find them anything but cathartic to relive. You were born to fight, my sister, but I was forced to, and though I find irony in the fact that I remain a soldier even though you no longer are, ‘tis no lie to say that I never wished it and part of me died that day along with far too many of our family.

As for why I remain in the Corps, ‘tis simply to do what I can to ensure such scenes never recur. I oversee Corps storm cloud production to ensure that Equestria is ready should the storm of war ever break over our lands again…

So that we may never have to hear the cries of grieving ponies once more.

I know, dear Glory. The burden of the warrior was supposed to be mine alone, but war does not respect such wishes. I never wished it for any of you, and I cannot help but regret again not being there that day. Perchance I would have died, but perchance I could have saved more of our herd.

Mayhap ‘tis but a form of survivor’s guilt, but I nonetheless bear it. And since my sister will not say what she found, I will: every other adult member of our herd save Morning Glory herself died at the weather factory in that attack, slain by the Ravens, who I cannot forgive to this day. Indeed, I bore them special hatred afterwards as my mother, her herdmates, two siblings and my sire all fell, and worse, the fear, pain and pure terror of their last moments can never be known.

You may find this attack justified in purely military terms, My Captain, and I certainly understand your rationale for it. But I cannot agree with it. To me, the attack on Cloudsdale ‘twas a savage assault on peaceful ponies who had nothing to do with war, and it will never be justified in my eyes.

—Fell Flight

I understand how you feel only too well, noble warrior and emissary, and I decline to offer my own opinions on the matter except to say that I would not have wished to be the one who planned that operation and ultimately had to make the horrific calculation of what would win the war more quickly.

‘Tis worth noting I have known many Gryphons since the war, befriending several, and I ended up drinking in a pub with a former Knight the day of Thunderbolt’s monument commemoration. They, too, lost far too many that day and we ended up crying together for our lost friends and comrades, blaming not each other but a war that was as inevitable as it was senseless.

—Orchard Oriole
Curator
Royal Legion Museum
Cloudsdale

‘Twas a rare family of Cloudsdale indeed who did not have friends or family who belonged to the militia or worked at the weather factory.

Almost all of us lost friends and loved ones in that attack, and we of Windshear’s herd were no different. ‘Twas only the next day, as we had just learned of Windshear’s death whilst we were picking through the rubble and bodies that we found Red Tail had died at her post guarding the entrance to the storm cloud factory, fighting the Ravens alongside Corps soldiers and trying to prevent their entry. She trained to fight them in the PSD and oft wondered how her knife-fighting skills would match up with them. In the end she took two with her, succumbing only to repeated hits of crossbow bolts and scimitar blades.

Gust Front fought as well, donning her Corps uniform and personal wingblades to lead her own improvised force into action against the Knights over Fort Tempest; we knew not her fate until well after the battle, finding her hospitalized with a broken wing and shattered rib cage, having been bested by a Knight commander. A veteran NCO who’d seen plenty of action at Outpost Omega, she would leave the reserves to rejoin the Corps on active duty after she healed, but to our great sorrow, lasted not a month before she fell in battle, and more death notices would soon follow for our beloved foals. ‘Twas far too much grief for any one family to bear and yet, we were lucky for simply knowing their fate. For far too many other herds and families, they would never know what happened as the bodies of their slain loved ones fell through the cloudbase to the ground far below and were never found.

Despite our losses and being middle-aged, Blue Jay and I wanted to fight in the war as well, but with half our herd gone and three underage foals still to take care of, we both could not. At least one of us needed to stay out of the war in order to raise our remaining offspring, so ‘twas decided after some discussion that Blue Jay would fight and I would stay behind, becoming herd matriarch, carrying on the Windshear line if the worst should happen and all should perish. All did not, but of our five foals who were or eventually enlisted, three would fall, leaving but two alive...

And no matter how many times we got word the worst had happened, the agony never got easier to bear.

I am an old pony now; the last surviving member of Windshear’s original herd, approaching seventy years of age. But for all the loss I suffered, neither my house nor my heart are empty. The herd of my youngest surviving foal, Swift Sparrow, still lives with me in our original home, and I have a museum to curate with many tales to tell others within it. I have lived a full life, and have no regrets for any of it… save that I could not fight again at Windshear’s or my sister’s side. I do not leave Cloudsdale much any longer, but I will to see the graduation of my beloved Windshear’s grandfoal, Stalwart Stand, and visit Windshear’s memorial together with him then.

And I will be honored to give you an escort, dear friend and honored mare of my mentor. You have known more loss than anypony should ever expect or experience over your long life, but I for one am very glad you were willing to share your story. Thank you for being Windshear’s wife, thank you for all the hospitality you showed us, and thank for simply being the honorable mare you are. You are living history and a link to the past now, and you will always have a friend in me.

With this, the Battle of Cloudsdale draws to a close, and the focus of the story shifts back to the frontier and our attempts to not only survive the Imperial onslaught, but somehow slow it down. ‘Tis debatable how much we accomplished when all was said and done, but at the time, simply living to tell the tale was enough.

—Firefly

People tell me I saved hundreds and hundreds of people. But I have to tell you: It’s not the people you saved that you remember. It’s the ones you couldn’t save.

—Navy SEAL Chris Kyle, American Sniper

Author's Note

I'd always meant to do battle graphics for each new battle, but this drove home just how difficult and time consuming it really is. I spent about 24 hours total on these things. But now that I've got the graphics designed, hopefully others will come quicker. At some point, I'll also go back and do graphics for the earlier stages of the fight and the assault on the militia base.

So ends the Battle of Cloudsdale, though I think it's clear to all I've sent up the next couple battles nicely. Focus shifts back to Epsilon and Raptor Base in the next chapter, and you'll be seeing not just Layan Kaval in action for the first time, but Prelate Gaius himself. Can he fight? Well, I’ll put it this way: You don't ascend to such lofty heights in the Empire as he has unless you can.

Thanks as always goes to AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, Leo Archon and Silentwoodfire for the prereads on the 10k word chapter, and I'd also like to welcome back TheGoldCrow to the ranks of prereaders as well. Lots of good comments on the parent google doc, and plenty more to come.

If you like the story, and you like the effort I've put into it thus far, you're invited to show your appreciateion on patreon. Thanks!

https://www.patreon.com/firesight

The War Begins: 12 - Spoiling Strike

The first day of the war demonstrated the truth of the old adage that no plan survives first contact with the enemy to both sides, and I am under no illusions about how lucky we at Epsilon were to survive it.

With the Army and Corps border bases only garrisoned at peacetime levels of ponypower when the Gryphons struck, our numbers were sufficient for dealing with raider groups, but not with a full-scale Imperial invasion. Had Prelate Gaius hesitated to invade immediately upon learning his war plans lost, within days he would have been confronted with a heavily reinforced border that would have bloodied and blunted his forces far worse should he have still attempted an attack.

Unfortunately, with few exceptions neither Gaius nor his commanders were foals, and the greatest gryphon threat, we would find, was not their numbers or quality of soldiers but their agility; their ability to react quickly and willingness to learn from their mistakes. Whether Epsilon and Equestria itself survived would hinge on whether we could learn to do the same in enough time.

Out of contact with Corps Command and with most border bases around us already fallen, we were on our own, and our only chance at survival, I increasingly realized, was to do what Gamma did and take the initiative. To risk our forces in a series of spoiling attacks that would either buy us time and force the Gryphons to react to us.

Or expose us to earlier annihilation.

—Firefly

Council of War

Watchtower
Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AC
1505 hours

I did not stay with Sky Sentry long.

In truth, I could not, as time was critical and our window of opportunity uncertain were our spoiling attack to work. But I held his hoof and reassured him I was there as the healers cast a sedation spell on him so they could operate and fully repair his numerous burn, slash, and arrow wounds. I still had no idea what Tartarus he’d been through at that point beyond what I could see, but ‘twas clear enough from his battle shock that he was likely all that remained of Outpost Delta. I could only pray he had not come all this way to Epsilon only to see it suffer the same fate.

Returning to the watchtower, we hammered out the remaining aspects of our proposed spoiling attack in the next ten minutes to some heated disagreement between Fell Flight and First Sergeant Still Way as to the best means to do so.

“Are you mad, First Sergeant? You want us to attack the assembly area by flying low through the inner canyon river ravine?” Fell Flight was never one to mince words. “’Twould be suicide! Such a plan would only work if we can get there undetected and burst upon them from close range, but ’tis all but impossible they would not have such an avenue of approach watched over and their assembly areas guarded by magus anti-intrusion enchantments! We would have no room to maneuver in that narrow gorge, and channeled into a small area as we would be, they could hardly miss with their crossbows! This assembly area lies downwind and we have plenty of storm clouds. We should instead use them to lay a thick fog over the canyon so they cannot see us approach and then do what Gamma did and attack the assembly area with lightning from above!” My second insisted, always preferring the direct approach.

“And methinks the sudden presence of fog in a desert canyon would be a dead giveaway that something was up, Master Sergeant,” Still Way said dryly, never losing his sly smile. “And yes, Gamma attacked from above, but only after launching their attack by bursting out of tunnels right on top of them. As their assembly area is located on the lower canyon plateau, methinks we can use the inner canyon gorge to the same effect.”

“Whilst in the canyon, our attacking force would be difficult to see except from directly above. If we move quickly enough and keep to the afternoon shadows, we could surprise them. And fear not their intrusion detection enchantments. When the assault force gets close, I can teleport in and use my own magic to disperse them,” he promised, nodding upwards towards his horn.

Far from reassured, Fell Flight stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “So you will teleport ten miles, which will send up an immediate flare to any Magus in equal range with even a shred of magical awareness, cast a counter-spell that they will also instantly detect, and then face down an attack from them with the bulk of your magic spent, whilst the gryphon force we seek to strike is likewise alerted and our assault force is flying a circuitous route through the narrow river ravine to reach them, making them easy prey to crossbow and Magus fire?” Fell Flight summarized, then turned to me. “’Tis sheer and utter folly, commander!”

Put that way, I was hard-pressed to disagree. “Unfortunately, methinks neither tactic is likely to succeed, Master Sergeant. Both present their own severe and likely fatal flaws,” I answered evenly, systematically analyzing the tactical situation as my former Epsilon commander, First Lieutenant Sundiver, had taught me, studying the maps of the canyon and marked assembly area carefully. The biggest impediment I could see to either plan succeeding was reaching the assembly area undetected, given we were being monitored by gryphon patrols at all times and they’d quickly see any move we made.

If we attacked the assembly area from above at full speed as Fell Flight desired, ‘twould take about two minutes to reach it, which was still enough time for the six hundred or so Talons and Knights in the assembly area to ready themselves for battle given ‘twas likely they’d be instantly alerted to our approach. I could not see that fog would help us either, as ‘twould take nearly an hour to create in large enough quantity to fill the canyon to that distance and, as the First Sergeant said, ‘twould be in itself a dead giveaway that something was up.

On the other hoof, a sneak attack through the inner river gorge presented even graver risk as loss of surprise meant certain death. ‘Twould take upwards of five minutes for us to navigate its winding path, and if we were detected they could trap us in the narrow ravine and a slaughter would result. There was also the question of bringing sufficient storm clouds along for the attack as Storm Team movement was severely slowed with them; they would not be able to join us until after we went in, but we needed them at the start to get a first strike in against their mages.

After voicing these thoughts out loud, I turned to my assembled senior soldiers and NCOs. “So regrettably, I do not see that either plan will work. I don’t suppose the Lances have any tricks we could use for concealment or getting past their magical detection methods, Sky Sergeant?” I asked, turning to Swift Strike, addressing him by his actual rank for perchance the first time. His true name or rank had not been known to my soldiers until the day before, when he had been recognized and revealed by the two Ravens we captured during their pursuit of the Changeling spy delivering us the Gryphon invasion plans.

As there was no further point in him carrying on the charade of being merely Corporal Zephyr Sparrow, 5th Division Logistics specialist, he was now wearing the stripes of a Sky Sergeant. “We do, but unfortunately… I do not have them available to me as the EIS only issues them on a mission-by-mission basis,” he told me apologetically, Gavian listening quietly at his side, now dressed in some Talon armor, a leather chestplate that was slightly too large for him supplemented with pauldrons and vambraces. He had painted them sky blue at my instructions as opposed to their usual silver, matching the color of Corps combat uniforms and making him easily recognizable to my soldiers. He was there simply because I wanted him in Swift Strike’s presence at all times, but as I glanced at him, I saw he was studying the map intently himself, his sword and a purloined crossbow and quiver strapped to his back.

Whatever his thoughts were, he remained silent as Swift Strike spoke again. “In my opinion, your analysis is correct, Commander. With due respect to your magical talents, First Sergeant, I fear Fell Flight is right that for you to teleport in and attempt to magically disable their enchantments would simply send up a signal flare that we were approaching via the inner valley.

“But attempting to cover the valley with fog as a prelude to coming in high as the Master Sergeant suggests would give them ample opportunity to ready themselves. Perchance in response they would simply leave their assembly area to get above the canyon rim and level of the fog before we could strike. ‘Tis what I would do were I the enemy commander and I saw fog rolling in, ma’am.”

“If neither plan will work, then what will we do?” Fell Flight’s enthusiasm was starting to wane. “I see no other potential approaches other than through the canyon itself… wait! Perchance we are making this too complicated. What if we simply create a small storm to do the work for us?” she asked us all eagerly. “A mere fifth of our storm cloud cache would be sufficient for the task. As ‘twould not be full scale, methinks we could spin up a mini supercell in minutes and send it crashing down the canyon. They are located around several bends of the river and methinks they might not see it coming…” her voice trailed off as methinks she saw the flaws with that plan even as she spoke.

“As much as I would love to make use of a supercell against them, miniature or otherwise… methinks ‘tis little chance ‘twould either hit its target over that distance without us there to shepherd it, or that the gryphons would not evacuate its path in time,” Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt, the stallion leader of our weather teams, pointed out. We had standing orders prewar to retaliate for any gryphon incursions with superstorm strikes against their base of operations, as Gamma had done following a Raven raid on Epsilon against Raptor Base, and had received sufficient stocks of storm clouds to make them.

But superstorms were strategic weapons, not tactical ones; they were typically only good against fixed targets like cities or surface bases, not against highly mobile gryphon soldiers in the field. And as their attacks had apparently been launched out of tunnels and underground facilities, they were of no use here. “And were we to make a full-scale one so it did not have to be targeted precisely, methinks ‘twould be difficult to do so unharrassed and they would see it coming from many miles away,” Blue Bolt continued, echoing my own thoughts.

“Then what is left?” Fell Flight asked, deflated again. “If we cannot safely strike them from distance, or from up close, then how can we reach them?”

“How indeed…” I closed my eyes as I thought, and then it hit me. “Perchance our thinking is too rigid. Perchance the answer to our dilemma lies not in either option… but both of them,” I said with what was admittedly deliberate coyness. But methinks I was feeling quite pleased with the idea that had just occurred to me.

“The key will be to combine their strengths to overcome their weaknesses. ‘Twill take perfect timing, but methinks we can still surprise them if we do this…” I said as I picked up a quill to place in my muzzle, dipped it in ink and began to draw directly on the map.

Methinks ‘twas an excellent plan you came up with, Captain, and I must commend you on your superb tactics and thinking, using your limited force and resources to maximum effect. ‘Twas a quality that would bedevil us in the days and weeks to come.

On the gryphon side of things, we were quite good at conventional warfare, excelling at combined arms and maneuver. Given a tactical puzzle, our field commanders could solve it quickly. But where we came up short, especially early in the war, was in the exercise of unconventional warfare. We were too often caught off-guard by pony daring and resourcefulness; your willingness to take chances and resort to means we would have thought foolish, as Captain Sirocco demonstrated when her forces found and broke into our underground headquarters bunker beneath Raptor Base.

—Layan Kaval

Rouse and Resist

Imperial Headquarters Bunker
Beneath Raptor Base,
Opposite Outpost Gamma
September 1st, 1139 AC
1450 hours

I could not help but feel excited and eager as the alarms sounded throughout Raptor, and we began hearing panicked and quickly silenced reports of black-suited ponies entering the complex, clearing corridors and slaying gryphon and diamond dog alike as they went. The latter were their initial targets, and quite rightly to start, as given but half a chance the Dogs could bring the tunnels right down on their collective heads.

‘Twas clear, however, they had ambitions far beyond them as we received word that nearly a hundred Equestrian Army troops from the Gamma Garrison backed by two Black Lance squads began fanning out through the tunnels, searching for their primary target—Prelate Gaius himself. Worse, we could not evacuate to the surface as we received reports of a surface attack as well; the buildings over which our entrance and exit shafts sat were destroyed and collapsed on top of them.

‘Twas a dangerous situation, doubly so as we had no Ravens to counter them; they had all been assigned to various special operations all along the frontier—a fact that Captain Sirocco was now taking advantage of. She was an aggressive and very competent commander; a necessity for commanding the Equestrian border forces, and we knew her well from prewar parleys. She was insulting and condescending but she was also no fool; she knew Gaius well enough to know that he would want his command center right up against the border where he could oversee the invasion and react quicker. She therefore thought to kill him and cripple the Imperial leadership from the start.

Methinks I had no idea how her forces had found the tunnels, which would have required them to go right under the canyon, but it did not matter then. What did matter was saving our bunker and for myself, carrying out my duty to protect Gaius at all costs. His office was well-protected, sitting at the center of the tunnel web, but as they had miners of some form in their ranks, ‘twas possible they could do what the Diamond Dogs did and just bring the ceiling down on all of us.

“Stay back, My Lord!” I ordered him, speaking no longer as his adjutant, but as his bodyguard as I heard a commotion outside; Talon security forces taking station to defend. “On my skill and honor, they will not gain entry.”

Primarch Livia Junius Cassius was not about to stand by either. “Fear not, Prelate. I will defend you as well… if only because ‘tis my duty and I wish you to live long enough that the Empress hears of your failure of security and refusal to strike Gamma quickly!” Livia drew one of her massive Paladin war maces and took her own rougher stance, standing nearly a head above me.

In response, Gaius calmly got up from behind his desk, opened a hidden wall compartment and withdrew his own custom weapons: paired battle axes; lighter and shorter variants of standard Fortis Knight versions he had designed and forged himself. Though an earth gryphon, he eschewed the heavy weapons and armor most of them wielded in favor of lighter arms that suited his own unique style of combat. “I thank you both for your concern, but ‘twould seem they have gone to a great deal of trouble to find and target me. And I would hate to disappoint them by making no appearance at all,” he told us easily, clipping the axe sheaths on his back, his prelate command chain and breastplate glittering in the low light.

‘Twas only then we realized he intended to engage them himself. “But my Lord!” Livia and I chorused, for once in agreement.

“But nothing, Tribune and Primarch. I am a warrior and will face them as one! To flee in the face of this desperate attack would be dishonorable and is in fact quite unnecessary. As they wish to slay me, I will grant them the chance. In truth, ‘tis been too long since I have tasted close combat, and not even a Prelate should insulate himself from it,” he said easily, and with that, he stepped right between us and out into the hallway to the shock of all present, his eyes and ears scanning the area for just a few seconds before speaking into a special scrying crystal, this one keyed to let his voice be heard throughout the base.

“Listen and take heed, soldiers and allies of the Empire alike!” he began, addressing both our headquarters staff—all soldiers and warriors in their own right; the Gryphon military to this day has no conception of noncombatants—and the surviving Diamond Dogs present as well, speaking in Equish for their benefit as they did not know the gryphon tongue. “Rouse and resist! Do not attempt to fight them singly; instead, form decades and fall back to the inward corridors of the second ring! They may have an initial advantage of numbers, but that matters little down here—choke the tunnels and bleed them dry around corners and in narrow spaces!

“Earth Gryphons to the front with shields and hammers, Sky Gryphons and Diamond Dogs form mobile decades to the rear! Stand fast and await further orders! And be assured we WILL win this day!”he said to the audible cheers of his troops; knowledge of the Equestrian language was a prerequisite for being assigned to his headquarters staff so they all understood him as well.

With that, he turned to me. “The Equestrians undoubtedly heard all that, but it matters not. They must complete their objectives quickly or be wiped out. The Talons can hold off their army troops, but the Lances are another matter,” he noted. “And as we lack Ravens to counter them, methinks the task of slaying them will fall to you and I, my friend…”

Thank you for your latest contribution, Ambassador. Methinks Prelate Gaius was many things, but ‘tis certain that a coward was never among them. Captain Sirocco’s plan was well-conceived, and she thought the risk worth it given the chance to decapitate the Imperial invasion force on the first day of the war. But we knew not what was happening at Gamma back at Epsilon, where we hurriedly organized for our own attack. knowing full well that defeat meant our immediate destruction.

Before beginning, I wish to note that in the past, I have not publicized how this attack was launched, for the simple reason that I wished to use it as an exercise for my students at the Equestrian Officer Academy. I present them with the situation as it existed that afternoon, giving them the problem of how to conduct a spoiling attack or otherwise buy time as we faced that day, challenging them to form war councils and come up with a solution within a time limit to simulate the pressure we were under.

Sometimes they surprise me with options I never considered, but more often than not their solutions are easily shot down. Regardless, the purpose is to teach them to ‘think outside the box’, as I still consider this without any humility one of the best early wartime examples of me doing so.

On a side note, I offered to pass the pen to Fell Flight for describing this coming attack, which she played a major role in, as she has not yet contributed any more than a few asides to this tale. But she declined, reminding me that this operation was my plan and not hers, and as such it deserves to be told by me.

—Firefly

Aerial Assault

Watchtower
Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AE
1608 hours

Under normal circumstances, any attack contemplated by Equestrian forces against the gryphons would undergo many days of planning and rehearsal, as had happened before the Phoenix Fire operation. Even the Lances did not launch hasty operations; they carefully analyzed intelligence first and chose everything from their objectives to their timetable to even their insertion points quite carefully.

We had no such luxury at Epsilon. We had to plan and launch this attack in under an hour, if possible, or the gryphons could preempt us with a second wave. ‘Twas an interesting exercise in passing instructions and making them understood, keeping things simple enough that they could be carried out on such short notice whilst still bringing sufficient force to bear, yet also leaving us able to withdraw quickly enough to return to base and defend it from the counterstrike our attack was certain to provoke.

If we did not—if we lingered too long over our target or the timing of our two-pronged strike was disrupted—our annihilation was all but assured.

I targeted a normal platoon rotation for the start of our operation. On wartime alert, we were on a four-shift schedule to suit our four platoons. During a rotation, one patrol platoon would become the ‘resting’ force, allowed to eat and sleep, whilst the previous one would start patrolling and the one they replaced in turn would become the ready platoon; resting and eating but keeping in gear, defending the base and able to respond instantly should the gryphons strike again.

The previous ready platoon would in turn become the second patrol platoon, and this rotation happened once every six hours… plus or minus an hour to keep the gryphons guessing when ‘twould occur and not let them take advantage of a predictable schedule; a tactic recommended by Fell Flight which she in turn learned from Windshear.

The size of the strike was another issue, as we were planning to challenge six hundred soldiers with not even a hundred of our own. I wanted the two fresh platoons available for action, which meant the two just coming onto patrol duty, whilst the resting ones would prepare a defense of the base in conjunction with the remaining storm teams. I could only commit two teams to assist the strike, which hardly seemed enough, but as it turned out, ‘twas all we could take over that distance.

As the plan evolved, our hope was less to slaughter them in the assembly areas than to bloody their beaks and get their attention, then break contact and induce them to pursue us, with the goal of luring them into an ambush back towards our base.

‘Twas the form the ambush would take that was the key. The purpose of creating a superstorm was (mostly) to kill or destroy anything in its path with massive amounts of lightning; the hail, wind and tornadoes it could also generate were actually secondary to its primary threat. But we didn’t need to create a superstorm to produce its lightning threat, for there was another way storm clouds could be used other than directly. ‘Twas a rather dirty trick Osprey knew from her earlier days on an Outpost Omega storm team, though ‘twas very difficult to use in most cases.

I immediately set out to create conditions under which ‘twould work, ordering our two resting platoons commanded by Blindside and Second Lieutenant Snow Squall to start using storm clouds to create fog, which they did with a gusto, bucking them to break them up and gradually saturate the air around us. Before long, not even the desert sun could burn off the large amounts of moisture we were adding to the air in the immediate vicinity of Epsilon, and fog began forming around us, spreading out laterally but most of it quickly pouring into the canyon. I immediately got back word of Gryphon forces standing to as they observed our activity, anticipating some move.

Whilst this was happening, our other two platoons commanded by Flight Sergeant Osprey and Master Sergeant Stormrunner began a normal patrol pattern, awaiting my signal. Fell Flight and I remained at the base for the time being, as seeing us leave ‘twould be an instant indication that an attack was underway. I waited as long as I dared, and then, suddenly shot into the air, joining Osprey’s platoon as the lead force as we broke patrol and flew at full attack speed for the gryphon assembly area, leaving Lieutenant Snow Squall in charge of Epsilon’s defense—’twas only by happenstance that his platoon was one of the resting ones, but still fitting, given he was supposed to be taking over command of the base from me anyway.

We charged down the canyon at about halfway below the rim level to make sure the Gryphons would have to be over the canyon to see us, but it made little difference as Talon patrols converged on our formation. They could not match our speed, but they could easily cut off our retreat in the canyon, box us in and then rain crossbow bolts upon us, knowing we had no unicorn shields available to us this time.

Nevertheless, we did not falter, charging forward, heedless of the danger and the forces moving to surround us. “Soldiers of Epsilon! Strike!” I shouted into my blue command gem loud enough for the Gryphons to hear as the assembly area came into view down around a curve and we saw a cohort of Talons braced by a few dozen Knights organizing to meet us—and worse, there were two mages in their mix, taking position out on the wings. Despite our rapid approach, neither they nor their rank-and-file soldiers moved to engage us but rather, they assembled into three-decade Turmas—their platoon equivalent—and moved to bracket us, brandishing their crossbows and waiting for us to come into range, intending to catch us in a crossfire before closing in. After whittling our numbers down, they would undoubtedly send the gold-armored Knights in first to break up our formations and kill our leaders, then let the Talons swoop in to finish our broken squads singly.

‘Twas the correct strategy, and I noted with some grim satisfaction from the head of our formation that my initial analysis of Fell Flight’s suggested plan was correct—that no matter how fast we were, our attack stood no chance of succeeding; the Talons and Knights were simply too well-trained and quick to react to an obvious threat.

Which was why the purpose our sudden lunge towards the assembly area with me leading ‘twas nothing more than to draw the attention of the gryphon forces, making sure all eyes were on us and not on the inner canyon river ravine. For trailing our platoon, winding its way through in inner gorge rapidly filling with fog from simple spillover was Master Sergeant Stormrunner’s third platoon, with Fell Flight at its fore.

But we had to hold their attention long enough for them to arrive and burst out just below the assembly area, so just before we entered effective crossbow range, I gave a second order.

“2nd platoon! Break!” I shouted into my gem and Osprey’s Omega veterans instantly obeyed, her three squads suddenly fanning upwards and outwards as we had discussed, turning away from the assembly area and instead on the Talon patrols that were trailing us and trying to surround us. Flying in spirals to throw off crossbow fire, we targeted and closed on isolated decades quickly to slaughter them with our speed, much as had happened earlier that morning, though three of Osprey’s platoon fell as the surprised Talons fought savagely and desperately.

Interestingly, ‘twas their earth gryphons that gave us the most trouble despite their lack of speed and agility in the air, as they could simply go back to back with their heavier weapons and armor and be very difficult to slay. I could only idly note this, however, as the second phase of the plan began. Our sudden move to turn on our pursuers induced the assembly area gryphons to come after us, hoping that their comrades could hold us long enough for their numbers and Knights to tell. They would arrive in less than twenty seconds, at which point the engagement became a war of attrition we would lose no matter how good or fast we were…

Until there were a pair of flashes and thunderous booms from below, lightning lancing upward to target and kill both gryphon mages, who did not have their shields up. They were followed by Master Sergeant Stormrunner’s platoon surging out of the river ravine just below the assembly area, supported by two storm teams that Still Way had teleported in—the maximum he could move over that distance. Their presence undoubtedly triggered the anti-intrusion enchantments as Fell Flight had feared, but it mattered not as the mages were already slain and the battle shortly joined.

The advantage of surprise would not last long, but Fell Flight and Stormrunner made the most of it, targeting trailing decades, several quick rounds of lightning breaking up tight formations at which point our own squads descended, taking out thirty more Gryphon regulars in short order.

Compounding the threat, I ordered Osprey’s first squad to turn again on the assembly area cohort, threatening to pin them between our two platoons. With their mages gone, lightning combined with Still Way’s spellcasting went a long way towards equalling the odds, and confusion reigned in the gryphon ranks for a moment as they were uncertain which threat was worse. But their commander finally turned the bulk of his troops on the second force as crossbow bolts began to rain down upon them, Knights in the lead, their armor protecting them from the First Sergeant’s curses and magical bolts except at close range. He spared two centuries, however, to wheel on myself and Osprey’s 2nd and 3rd squads, still hoping to pin us against the decade-sized Talon patrols we were destroying in detail.

That was our cue. We’d only inflicted perhaps sixty casualties, mostly Talon, whilst suffering half a dozen of our own—hardly enough to cripple them or prevent their pursuit and if we stayed any longer, their numbers would tell. “Epsilon! Withdraw!”I ordered both platoons this time, which dove into the inner canyon again, the storm teams abandoning their clouds after setting them to go into continuous release in an attempt to discourage pursuit. Speed was crucial as we navigated the inner canyon back the way we came as fast as we dared, Still Way pacing us with short-range teleports that cost him less energy, knowing that if a gryphon force appeared in front of us or overhead and started raining crossbow bolts down, we were dead.

But that opportunity was quickly lost, not due to us outracing their pursuing force, which ‘twas impossible in the twisting inner gorge anyway, but due to the presence of fog gradually filling the canyon. Colder than its surroundings, it quickly settled and rolled down the lowest part of the gorge, which was the river ravine, masking it first. We entered it a third of the way down and it quickly hid us from view, ending the crossbow threat and making any attempt to close with us directly a very dangerous proposition.

They did not try. Somewhat to my shock, we’d actually gotten away with the first part of the plan, bloodying their collective beaks and making our way back to base with minimal losses, the gryphons in pursuit, pacing us from overhead by flying over the level of the fog, perchance hoping to see our heads pop up. “Lieutenant! We’re on our way back! Tell your gunners to hold fire!” I called into my gem to Snow Squall as we got back in range of the base, an occasional explosive crossbow bolt fired blind from overhead lighting up the mists and showering us with dirt and stone fragments, their sound mixed in with the occasional boom of a lightning bolt from one of the four storm teams still defending the base, who were loosing bolts at distant targets from above the level of the fog.

To my relief, he responded immediately; I’d half worried the sounds of lightning meant the gryphons had already pounced on our weakened base before our defenses were set. “Aye-aye, ma’am! Be advised, Gryphon formations numbering several centuries are closing in as we speak! We’re sniping at them and almost ready to receive them, so mind your flight path!” Snow Squall reminded me.

“Understood! 2nd and 3rd platoons! Fall back within the cloud cordon along the prearranged route! Do not touch the clouds!” I reminded them all as the pursuing gryphons closed in around us only to find the base shrouded in mists. An adventurous decurion tried to close but didn’t live long enough to regret it as we saw the shadows of his decade above and Fell Flight sliced upwards with a single squad to kill them.

We broke out of the ravine when we saw two clouds bracketing the river. With visibility poor and the fog thick enough to hide the bottom of the main canyon walls, a single lightning bolt was fired at my order from the top of the cliff to the bottom, marking the safe path back to base. We took it immediately, shooting up and over the cliff wall to land back on our own assembly field, where we saw Snow Squall’s platoon still creating fog and scattering clouds about, often times just sending them floating on a gust of wing-generated wind towards the outer reaches of our airspace, increasingly hidden by the humid air.

“Ma’am! Beg to report!” Snow Squall came up to me and saluted immediately as a flash of light announced Still Way’s return as well. “The gryphons are probing the perimeter but methinks they are just a bit reluctant to enter the fog bank. So I’m trying to encourage them. On my orders, the storm teams are engaging the gryphons at long range, and Blindside’s platoon is about to conduct a hit-and-fly attack against one of their nosier centuries. Methinks she should be getting there right about…”

There was a sudden eruption of shouts and battle cries followed by a series of shrieks on his open crystal link to Blindside herself, several miles away. They lasted less than ten seconds before she ordered her platoon to break contact and stay tight on her wing as she led them back in through the storm cloud-strewn airspace, her uncanny awareness of her surroundings allowing her to pick her way through the danger zone even in dense fog and lead her troops safely back to base.

“... now,” Snow Squall finished mildly with a pleased grin, one I then shared, recognizing what he had done. After our surprise strike and a second, even more ‘cowardly’ assault—hit-and-fly tactics like that were dishonorable to gryphon soldiers—they finally took the bait, charging in after Blindside’s platoon, perchance reasoning that whatever path she was following was a safe one. But the wind of our platoon’s passing drew the clouds in behind them, and despite their narrowed formation, all it took was a single gryphon soldier brushing a fog-hidden storm cloud to…

There was a series of muted flashes and crackling booms as a pre-triggered cloud erupted with all its stored lightning at once, detonating in the mist and sending the gryphon soldiers that escaped its barrage scattering and blundering into more clouds, decimating the pursuing Talon century within seconds, catching them in a crossfire of multiple lightning explosions; we could hear their screams even without the aid of the crystal gems, only for them to swiftly be silenced.

“Well done, sir,” I nodded approvingly as a cheer went up, both at the results and safe return of our units, our attack and ambush having accounted for another two centuries of gryphon regulars. “That should be an object lesson for the rest, so let’s press our advantage. Patrol platoons! Clear paths to the periphery! Storm teams! Take station there just inside the mists and fire at targets of opportunity! Switch locations frequently, and should mages or large numbers of Talons or Knights threaten, set the clouds to discharge-on-contact mode and retreat to the interior, closing up the paths with wind behind you!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” came the enthusiastic responses as my soldiers moved to obey, as exhilarated at our success as I hoped the gryphons were disheartened. As I dispatched Fell Flight back to the watchtower so I could go back to the infirmary to check in on Gavian and Sky Sentry, methinks I couldn’t help but worry what the Gryphons would try in response and what the evening hours would bring. We’d bloodied them badly, accounting for twice our own numbers, but ‘twasn’t even a tenth of the legion they had in the area. We also hadn’t really faced the Knights yet, and ‘twas no doubt they and the Talons were chomping at the proverbial bit to repay us after our sneak attack.

Well-thought and well-fought, Captain.

Your victory, I can’t help but note, was small but bought you precious time whilst forcing Legate Galea’s 16th Talon legion and his attached Knights to focus most of their attention on you, preventing further advances in their sector until Epsilon was reduced—the very definition of a successful spoiling attack. I also note that its success ‘twas in large measure due to your subordinates being able to discuss and collaborate on a strategy; their willingness to offer up their own advice and observations instead of simply carrying out the commander’s orders without comment as happened in far too many gryphon units.

Your subordinates also showed good personal initiative when Lieutenant Snow Squall ordered an attack on his own to induce the Talons to follow and trigger your trap, destroying another century of troops in the process. Perchance ‘twould be of interest to know that our own tactical schools now use this raid, a mere pinprick in the greater scheme of things, as an example of collaboration and agility amongst senior staff, to say nothing of how a small force can stall and bloody a much larger one.

Prelate Gaius had his faults, but he, too, was willing to listen to the counsel of officers he respected, myself most notably. He also proved he was as good at small unit tactics as he was at grand maneuvers this day, to say nothing of close combat itself. Gryphons do not rise to his rank and survive the innumerable battles and duels it takes unless they are mighty warriors in their own right, as he reminded us all that day.

—Layan Kaval

Underground Assault

As Gaius finished outlining his initial plans to our group and dispatching runners to communicate them instead of via the scrying network, a thunderous boom echoed down the hallway, shaking some more dust from the ceiling as it became clear the ponies had even brought some storm clouds along to clear stubborn resistance from corridors, causing the Talons beside us to shift nervously. We had no mages with us, as, like the Ravens, they had all been assigned frontline duty to make up for missing numbers. ‘Twas an oversight we would rue later; for now we would have to defeat the attack with what we had.

Gaius, however, was unconcerned. “An interesting and dangerous proposition, bringing clouds down here,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Straight line weapons cannot fire around corners, so their gunners will have to expose themselves. And that is when we will have them,” he promised, a sly smile breaking his face as we received reports that the raiding force had entered a large and now-empty office area, one of six that sat on the inner ring of the underground base. Like the others, it had large multi-story chambers with elevated offices and enough room to fly in but, by the Prelate’s orders, it had been evacuated in favor of defending the tunnels leading inward towards the center of the complex.

The headquarters complex itself consisted of two concentric rings dug by the Diamond Dogs, which were both studded with large office antechambers at intervals and connected via zigzagging passages. The ponies had entered directly into one of the outer antechambers, slaughtering everyone inside quickly, and were now attempting to reach the inner ring as a prelude to storming the center of the complex where Prelate Gaius presumably was.

They were finding the going quickly becoming much more difficult, however, as we shook off our initial shock and organized for defense. Those stationed in the inner antechamber had, on the Prelate’s orders, extinguished all the lights and strewn the floor with small objects in an attempt to let superior gryphon night vision give us an advantage and leave us able to hear their approach when they inevitably stepped on and broke mugs, bowls, and chairs. A few sentries had also laid down explosive gems and set them to trigger on contact in hopes they might catch a few enemy soldiers in their snares.

But the ponies were smarter than that; we heard reports passed by simple note that they had reached the first inner antechamber. They masked their entrance with smoke and unicorn soldiers launching in magical strobe flares to light up the large room and disorient defenders, followed by the Black-suited Lances entering under their cover, clearing the upper offices of any potential ambush from above. I could imagine their frustration and confusion at finding nothing, perchance wondering where we were. Unicorn auras clearing paths through the debris, they then turned their attention on the inward corridors, positioning clouds and firing lighting into them to blast any defenders hiding inside to no avail, as they were now a bend or two back—the earth gryphon talons had done so on their own at the first sound of thunder; a simple sense of survival told them not to expose themselves.

“The dogs report they will reach their goals in two minutes, my lord,” Centurion Traal, commander of the headquarters security detachment, whispered in Gaius’ ear after receiving a Talon-delivered message from another runner. “And as they have suffered casualties of their own, they demand the chance to repay the ponies themselves.”

“Excellent,” he said, scrawling a quick message in reply. “Tell them they may, but only on my orders. Remind them they are not to break through until they receive my signal, or we will miss our chance to trap them.” He passed the message to the sky gryphon runner, who hurried back down the hallway, taking a circuitous route to reach the goal. No sooner had he left than there was the sound of renewed battle as the ponies encountered the first Talon soldiers guarding inner corridors. Thunder and flash gems went off but no explosive ones as perchance the ponies were worried about bringing the tunnels down.

We, however, had no such concerns as the Talons fired explosive-tipped crossbow bolts into the ceiling over their heads, trying to cave them in. The ponies reacted instantly to that; a unicorn placing a shield over the ceiling as the Lances retaliated with shock gems thrown at their feet, turning their own metal shields against them. They began to storm the tunnel, trying to reach the center of our underground base and Prelate Gaius himself. And ‘twas certain they were making progress thanks to the Lances and supporting troops, the former having taken the first two tunnel bends with the help of the latter whilst earth ponies and unicorns fanned out behind them, circling laterally along the second ring in an attempt to press us from multiple directions; we heard another panicked report of unicorns teleporting behind defenders to turn their defenses, sometimes in the presence of one or more Lances.

Gaius frowned at that, and so did I. “Teleportation requires the caster to have already visited where they are going, as they must be able to visualize their destination clearly,” he noted.

Livia hissed at that, brandishing her war mace. “For them to be able to do so means they had a spy down here!”

“Or perchance the EIS somehow captured and pulled the location and layout from the memories of an existing headquarters staff member,” I pointed out, grimly. “‘Twould also explain how they knew which buildings to strike at the surface. We can determine the source of the security breach later. But as to their unicorns, I believe we have countermeasures available to us…?” I glanced over at the Owl agents present, who had a small and isolated office in the complex. They were talking and muttering amongst themselves, no doubt sorely regretting the lack of the Ravens that normally defended them, clutching at their own hidden blades.

“‘Tis still only experimental, my lord,” the nearest Owl said in a trembling voice from under his cloak and hood, only deepening my contempt for them. They had not covered themselves in glory in recent days, but the efforts of their magical research division over the past several months had borne some interesting fruits. “‘Tis uncertain they will work!”

“Then ‘twould seem now is as good a time as any to test them. Give them to us,” Gaius instructed calmly, keeping the disdain out of his own voice as the senior agent gave him a magically sealed chest and the key to unlock it. Releasing the seal, he pulled it open to reveal a series of four gems.

“How long will their effects remain active?” Gaius asked him.

“For mere minutes only, my lord,” The Owl agent told him nervously. “Assuming they work at all.”

The Prelate actually chuckled at that. “Methinks such time will suffice. This battle will be over in mere minutes anyway,” he said calmly as two of the gems were rushed out to flanking forces, keeping one to ourselves as a fresh round of lightning booms sounded in another chamber. “We want them funneled here. And preferably confined to the one inner antechamber they already captured,” he added as he attached the hilts of his battle axes together to form a single long bladed staff, one he could whirl about with supreme skill.

“They are here for me, so I will be the bait that draws them in. We will be the anvil, and you, my friend, must be the hammer,” he nodded to me, passing me the final gem. “Take two sky gryphon decades and go with the Diamond Dogs to over the captured inner chamber. Wait for my signal and when the time comes, seal their exits, deny them their magic and cut them down without mercy. Methinks ‘tis time to put your new repeating crossbow to the test.” He grinned at me.

“My pleasure,” I grinned back, taking it off its harness and loading one of its barrel drums. An experimental minotaur-made weapon they were not yet able to produce in large numbers, I had already tried it on the firing range. Its bolts were small and range limited, but at close quarters its explosive-tipped bolts were lethal to packed-in troops.

But we were given no chance as suddenly there was a bright flash in front of us to reveal… a cloaked unicorn mare with two black-suited figures, wingblades brandished. The unicorn mare flashed a strobe light at us from her horn, causing us to look quickly away whilst the Lances tossed flash and thunder gems as an additional measure to disorient us. They had the drop on us… until Livia Cassius Junius charged them with her war mace and slammed it down into their midst.

She missed them all to little surprise as they leapt away, but they were disoriented as well by their sudden arrival, still trying to get their bearings after teleporting into unfamiliar surroundings, and from what we had read, teleportation tended to be very disorienting on those who were taken in one anyway.

The end of her massive Paladin weapon was charged with magic, which its impact released in a concussive wave that knocked them all off their hooves and halfway across the room. Even the Lances could not immediately regain their bearings from such a blow and died in a hail of crossbow bolts along with the unicorn from my weapon; I didn’t need much accuracy to cut them down at such short range.

“Test successful, my lord,” I told him dryly as Gaius activated the fourth and final gem, which began to pulse as he stuck it to a nearby wall.

“So I see,” he replied with a grin. “Excellent reflexes, my friend. And I believe we will have to place additional orders with the Minotaurs now.”

Livia sneered at that. “Wouldst it kill you to thank me as well, Prelate?” she asked him. “I just saved your life!”

“Hardly. They teleported in blindly and were easy prey. Pity. Methinks I would have enjoyed the chance to slay them myself,” Gaius replied evenly, not above tweaking her even then. “The gem is now active, meaning we have but minutes to act. Now go, Tribune!” he ordered me, and I instantly obeyed, taking two decades with me, as directed. I arrived with them at our destination in under a minute to find the Diamond Dogs impatiently awaiting orders, wearing improvised leather armor and some rough-hewn blades.

“We are ready!” one of them said, motioning to the partially-dug out rock in front of him, his teeth bared in a half-snarl smile. “Let us strike!”

“You will wait until ordered,” I reminded him in some annoyance, “or you will lose the chance for revenge!” Though they’d been instrumental in the Prelate’s invasion plans, digging us the tunnels that enabled us to mass our forces right under the pony noses, my opinion of the dogs remained low, as their external loyalties tended to belong to the highest bidder. But their internal ones were another matter; their pack loyalty was very strong, including their instincts to protect each other and avenge their fallen members. And as the ponies had already slain a dozen or more of them, I had no doubt they would happily fight them.

The wait was nonetheless interminable, knowing the clock was ticking. A series of crashing rumbles were then heard as other dog teams collapsed several side tunnels as per the first part of the Prelate’s plan, hemming the ponies in. That would not deny teleportation except for the fact that we also activated the gems right over those areas, suppressing most spellcasting. The gems were another Rose Ruby variant, these specially treated by Magus to hold and release a magical suppression field that normally could only be directly cast by the Magus themselves. They were not as powerful, long-lasting or as wide-ranging as the Magus spells they were based on, but for our purposes, ‘twas certain they would do the job.

“Tribune! Now!” Gaius called over the scrying network, having no need of codes or secrecy. I nodded to the dogs, who simply used their own earth magic to punch through the ceiling of the antechamber we were over, finding fifty ponies inside, packed tightly in their standard diamond-shaped squad formations up against the inner doorways, earth ponies on the periphery and a single squad of unicorns in the middle.

‘Twas the second part of the Prelate’s plan; he had not only deliberately ordered the large antechambers evacuated despite the fact they were defensible from above, but let the ponies hear his orders, making them think we were abandoning them in favor of tunnel defense. ‘Twas an excellent piece of misdirection on his part, and the ponies paid an immediate price as myself and the three decades of gryphons and Diamond Dogs following me flew in or dropped to the floor, raining down rocks and crossbow bolts onto their heads…

Followed by the final gem, right into the middle of the room, preventing unicorn teleportation and anything more than a direct levitation spell. Its range was about eighty paces, which covered the entire antechamber; we dropped a dozen ponies quickly before their unicorns could turn their longbows on us, at which point the sky gryphons were scattering to the previously cleared upper floor offices and began raining death on them in the form of armor-piercing and explosive crossbow bolts from the high ground above. ‘Twas not my style to strike from distance, however, so I joined the burly Diamond Dogs on the floor, my blades flashing out. I heard shocked yells in Equish and pleas for help as I began carving a path through their army troops, my blades slicing through armor and equine bodies with ease, dropping nearly a dozen more in seconds.

Unicorn auras tugged at me, attempting to pin me in place when all other spellcasting was lost to their owners, but my onyx armor deflected their efforts. Longbows and crossbows were trained on me but I kept them at bay simply by keeping the ponies at close quarters, tossing bodies in every direction, the sky gryphons above taking advantage of the distraction to target and kill unicorns first with their anti-aura bolts. The dogs made a glorious mess of things as well whilst pony attention was on me, favoring blunt instruments and clubs, and within seconds we had slain half the ponies in the room with others falling back into it from the side corridors and counterattacks out of the ceilings via dog-dug tunnels.

The apparent pony commander, an orange-furred pegasus stallion with lieutenant’s bars on his borrowed black bodysuit, shouted orders and storm clouds were trained on me. Recognizing the danger, I took flight and evasive action as a series of wide-angle bolts erupted from two clouds, trying to catch me in their snare. Their ‘scattershot’ bolts were not as powerful but were impossible to dodge, and I felt the electric currents play over me, threatening to knock me from the sky as they took out the bulk of the charging Diamond Dogs at once. But through sheer will and enchanted armor I remained airborne and elusive, waiting for the partially paralyzing currents to stop, then leveled my repeating crossbow and launched a stream of bolts from it, aiming at the gunners.

A unicorn tried to erect a shield but couldn’t thanks to the gem and several more pegasus ponies went down. But others took over and began firing single bolts at me as the Talons in the upstairs offices burst forth at my own orders, charging downwards with blades and bows leveled. They launched a volley at the storm teams, forcing them to dive away, at which point I leapt into their midst, preventing their clouds from being used again.

Earth ponies attacked me next, but their strength was no match for my speed or Talaeus blades. I slew another six quickly, forcing the rest to snipe at me with crossbow bolts and spears whilst simultaneously avoiding the sky gryphons overhead, who swooped and struck suddenly. The bolts I dodged; the spears I plucked right out of the air and threw two back, impaling their owners—some Talaeus thought it beneath them to attempt to wield pony weapons, but I was not one of them.

‘Twas then that two things happened at once—the ponies brought their final reserves into play from one end of the antechamber, Guardsponies included, and the Prelate’s earth gryphon group broke in from the other, having defeated the initial attack on him, the Prelate himself in the lead. I still marveled that he was willing to expose himself like that, but his double-ended axe staff whirled in rapid arcs around him, making him almost impossible to approach despite the weapons trained on him whilst the earth gryphon Talons in turn engaged the earth ponies and mostly-powerless unicorn soldiers with some success.

A Corps pegasus swooped in and was caught by an axe blade and slammed to the ground. An earth pony Army mare attacked him, blade in mouth after firing a crossbow, which he simply dodged with a single wingbeat, using a rapid mid-air tumble to slay her from above and when several charged him at once, he separated his axes and whirled through them with ease, reading movements and deflecting blows, his counterattacks always finding their marks and striking down multiple ponies in rapid succession; even demonstrating he could strike at distance by slaying a unicorn aiming a longbow at him with a thrown axe.

In contrast, Primarch Cassius was a raging minotaur bull, using her size and strength and blows from her war mace to clear the room, focusing her efforts on the three Guardsponies present. She’d taken several hits from the crossbow bolts but simply refused to go down, a by-product of her potion-infused body and great strength to say nothing of single-minded determination. She was completely unimaginative and one-dimensional in her combat style, relying on her sheer size and striking power above all else, which nonetheless was effective in the close confines and chaotic nature of the fighting as the two sides clashed throughout the antechamber; the ponies no longer able to bring their storm clouds to bear.

As time passed, our ability to fly and ranged attacks were giving us the definite advantage even as the effects of the gems wore off and unicorn magic came back into play for the few that were left, having been rightly targeted by the Talons whilst their powers were limited. We began to clear them and push them back down the way they came, clearing the outer corridors of them… until the ponies brought a second Lance squad into the fight, their skill and prepackaged sorcery turning the tide again.

We retreated back into the tunnels between the inner and outer rings in their face, but this time, I stayed in front as the first Lance rounded the corner and beheld me. I could not see her face, but by the movement of her muscles, her eyes went wide underneath her mask as she beheld my Talaeus armor and red-striped black coat. I can only assume she recognized me as not just as a Red Talon but the Red Talon commander, meaning Prelate Gaius had to be close by…

But first she had to get through me. There was a sharp movement and a blade flashed out; a lethal stiletto launched directly at my face. I saw its path clearly and shifted fractionally to let it glance off my helm. There was some kind of electrical spell attached as I felt a static charge, but the shock ‘twas intended to deliver was not transmitted through my onyx armor as it might have been through a metal one.

She next attacked with wingblades, but I parried the blows easily despite her speed and skill, using my strength and rapid reflexes to slam her into a wall, and then the floor. Her compatriots leveled miniature crossbows, but I simply tucked my head to let my armor accept their strikes, rolled forward and burst right through the shock gems they threw. They likewise failed to penetrate my armor, and I then engaged the two Lances blade-to-blade, slaying one, than the other as they simply had no freedom to maneuver in the narrow space. I, however, was more than used to it, having grown up an orphan in the back alleys of Loondon and learned to fight gangs of older gryphons in them.

‘Twas then that the door slammed shut on them as the remaining dogs collapsed their escape tunnel, hemming them in. Realizing they were trapped and their only way out was through us, they fought desperately but futilely as we closed in and broke into the outer antechamber, slaying their far more scattered forces and closing in on their commander, defended by a few more army troops and two surviving Lances as he was. He fought savagely with his wingblades, taking on an entire decade and slaying two Talons in aerial combat, but was finally overwhelmed and knocked from the air.

In one final gambit, a unicorn bearing a blade spotted Gaius and attempted to teleport in from the shadows, but Gaius somehow sensed it and when she rematerialized, the Prelate’s axe head was in her chest, causing her to stare in horror at it, and then crumple. After that, the remaining ponies fell easily, and within a minute, they were defeated. Picking his way through their bodies, Gaius found the wounded pony commander.

“First Lieutenant Sundiver, I presume?” Gaius addressed him in Equish. The orange-furred pegasus was coughing up blood, his wing broken and his chest gashed by a sword strike. My commander had an assortment of minor injuries of his own, mostly cuts and bruises accompanying one deeper slash on his foreleg, though with my attention only occasionally on him, I didn’t see him suffer most of them. “Former commander of Outpost Epsilon and Chief Training Officer of Outpost Gamma? My sincerest compliments, First Lieutenant. ‘Twas an excellent attempt and with only slightly better luck, ‘twould likely have worked. You planned and led this operation well.”

“Not… well… enough…” he got out, trying to rise but unable to do so. “Just… kill… me…” he begged.

“No,” Gaius said, holding up a paw to restrain his forces, who looked only too eager to do so in the face of the sneak attack and the losses they had suffered. “The battle is over, and I do not wish to slay such a worthy adversary. On my honor, you and your surviving forces will be accorded respect and held prisoner for the duration of the conflict. We will treat your wounds and see that you are held in comfort. You and your force fought magnificently, but your war has ended, First Lieutenant. Live with honor,” he said, saluting him to my great surprise.

I said nothing, but Livia Junius Cassius was not so restrained. “Sparing enemy soldiers who meant to slay every last one of us? Methinks you are far too soft, Prelate!” she sneered despite her own wounds, blood dripping off her flank onto the floor from an embedded crossbow bolt she still hadn’t removed from her side.

“We are gryphons, Primarch!” he retorted, allowing anger to leak into his voice. “You may report this to the Empress if you wish, but I will not rescind my offer! ‘Tis tradition that we respect and honor worthy foes, and so we will here!” he told her and everyone within earshot with finality, then switched over to the scrying network so his voice would be heard everywhere.

“Hear me, fellow warriors! This day is OURS! On my orders, Equestrian survivors are to be offered honor and taken prisoner—they may NOT be slain!” he directed us all. “Treat the wounded and clear a path to the surface, so we may get healer teams down here and reestablish our chain of command as quickly as possible. The battle is won, so let us be certain the WAR is yet, as well!” he told us, to which another cheer went up, his surviving soldiers treating him with not just respect, but outright reverence as well.

I could not help but smile at that. They knew my skill, but they had not known his, and word of his exploits would soon be spread throughout the Gryphon military.

Before, they had been willing to serve him. Now, they would be willing to die for him… as I already was.

As you say… well-thought and well-fought, Ambassador. Sundiver was an excellent trainer and tactician, I knew from my time under him at Epsilon, and ‘twas with great sorrow I learned he was lost that day, not knowing he yet lived. It pleases me to know that the Prelate did show him honor, as well as to all those ponies who fought and lived that day.

Such things were not always possible, particularly on our side in the initial months of the war. Victory allows for such luxuries as prisoners, but defeat and retreat does not, and thoughts of honor would soon fade from both sides as the conflict wore on and atrocities mounted. But at least here and now, ‘twas offered and accepted, and both it and the superb strategy the Prelate thought of when the Gamma garrison stormed his bunker is to his credit.

In this chapter, one raid was successful, another a failure, but both are case studies in surprise strikes and the risk-vs-reward calculation of military operations. Had the Epsilon operation failed, my base would have been lost but in the grand scheme of the war would have meant little; ‘twould have been barely a footnote in the first day battle results. But had Sundiver’s strike succeeded, methinks the entire course of the war would have been altered in favor of Equestria, depriving the invasion of its architect and the Empire of their finest military mind.

There are countless what-ifs in warfare, but I would never say the operation was not worth trying, even if it only had a two percent chance of succeeding instead of the twenty percent I give it now. The potential payoff was enormous, and I admire Sirocco and Sundiver immensely for having not only attempted it, but having nearly pulled it off.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. —Plato

Author's Note

A long wait and several weeks of work, but hopefully worth it! With apologies, I was not able to do a second set of graphics for the Raptor battle. I’ll come back to them later.

For those who did not see my earlier blog, the graphics are based on overhead shots of the Grand Canyon, taken from bing maps. The Grand Canyon is how I envision the pony/gryphon border canyon, and having visited it—it truly does live up to its name!—I used what I remembered to design and detail the course of the battle.

As all prereads from Leo Archon, AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire and Denim_Blue are in and I’m generally satisfied with it, I’m letting you have this a day early. Enjoy!

The War Begins: 13 - Resist and Fight

There are times I am asked if, during the war, I ever despaired of the result or entertained thoughts of giving up. And as much as I would wish to answer neigh, ‘twould be the basest of lies to say. The truth is that yes, there were times my resolve faltered, even on the invasion’s very first day.

To be a soldier or warrior does not mean you never entertain doubts or harbor feelings of despair, and as the gryphons readied their retribution for our sneak attack, one that promised our annihilation, I was forced to confront the one choice a commander never wishes to face: surrender or die; give up or watch the battalion I so loved and had spent so much time building and training be slain to the last.

Methinks war is the most inharmonious act imaginable, and yet, that did not mean that Harmony could not find us in it. ‘Tis certain I had never believed in ‘Harmony’ as a living force before that day, and though I’d certainly heard stories of ponies spontaneously breaking out into song, ‘twas certain that I never thought such a thing could ever happen to me. And certainly not whilst facing the gravest of threats imaginable.

—Firefly

Wingblade’s Edge

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AC
2315 hours

Our elation over the successful attack on the gryphon assembly area was short-lived.

For better and for worse, the surprise strike had the desired effect as the Talons immediately brought up additional forces and began hemming us from all sides, rendering it impossible for our storm teams to get off more than one or two bolts before lobbed crossbow volleys made their positions untenable, forcing them to retreat back into the fog. As darkness fell, over a thousand soldiers were surrounding us from both the sides and above, sky gryphons orbiting in centuries from a distance whilst the earth gryphons gathered on the ground below, behind ridges.

The Knights were massing as well; by mid-evening patrols reported they had scraped together a full century of elite soldiers along with three more mages. They were already feinting strikes at us with the former under the protection of the latter, using wind spells to disperse the fog and shove the lightning-charged clouds hidden within them aside on approach, forcing us to keep shifting our own soldiers to match and preventing anypony from getting much rest.

‘Twas the right strategy to mentally and physically wear us down, as we knew not when their sudden lunges at us might be real and thus had to treat them all as a potential attack. Despite their wind spells, we were maintaining our fog cover as best we could, though at the rate we were burning through our clouds to keep the normally dry desert air saturated and our base hidden, we could sustain it for no more than another eight hours before our storm cloud cache was exhausted…

And once it was, our lives would likely be measured in minutes given the overwhelming force they were massing against us, lacking both cover and the heavy weapons we needed to defend against large-scale attacks.

Thus, despite our successes and given the fact ‘they had now set the better part of half their legion against us, our fate seemed sealed without reinforcements, which was highly unlikely at best. As such, I was surprised when a gryphon patrol approached under flag of truce not long before midnight. They requested parley at the canyon rim, on the condition that we cease lightning fire for the duration.

Uncertain what they were up to, but also hoping it might both buy time and give some inkling of what they were planning, I agreed. Leaving Snow Squall in charge again, I flew out with one of Blindside’s squads to the edge of the cliff, just outside the worst of the fog, taking along Fell Flight and Master Sergeant Stormrunner to represent the Celestial Guardspony contingent.

We did not have long to wait as a score of gryphons flew in, mostly Talons along with several Knights and one mage in the mix, facing us in a loose formation under the light of their mage’s staff. Their armor was worn but arms were sheathed at my instruction, warning that any drawn weapons or resort to the mock-attack theater they normally performed at parleys would be taken as a hostile act.

Given gryphon concepts of honor, I did not expect it to be an ambush, but as a precaution I positioned storm teams behind us deeper in the fog, ready to slay our assailants at my signal or the first launched arrow if it was.

As our two improvised formations faced off from twenty paces apart, the gryphon commander broke ranks first, a sky gryphon eagless walking towards us wearing a silver-hued steel chestplate and black command chain coupled with matched metal vambraces and pauldrons; the latter accented by an inscribed eagle feather—the textbook armor and insignia of a Talon Tribune.

“Greetings, Commander Firefly. I am Tribune Rialta,” she introduced herself in excellent Equish, saluting me in the gryphon manner, “Second in command of the 16th Talon Legion. I am here because my superior, Legate Galea, wishes me to offer you Honor.”

“I see,” I told her, returning the gesture but speaking with deliberate disdain. “In that case, since your superior sees fit to only send his second, methinks you will speak to my second instead of me. Master Sergeant?” I called behind me, stepping back and inviting Fell Flight to step forward. Which she did quite gladly, walking up and going nose to nose with the eagless, flaring her wings and locking gazes with her, trying to intimidate the gryphon female with her larger stature and slitted eyes.

“Well? What is it?” My hot-blooded second demanded after the eagless seemed to lose her nerve for just a moment in the face of Fell Flight’s size and predatory stare, to say nothing of her bloodied wingblades. “State your business and be quick about it, Tribune! The sooner we dispense with these useless pleasantries, the sooner we can get back to the business of killing each other!”

A single twitch of the Tribune’s tasseled tail betrayed a moment of nervousness, talons moving to weapons behind her. Nevertheless, she mastered her anxiety and answered. “You and your battalion have cost us a great many casualties, Master Sergeant. We acknowledge your skill in battle, and we admit to being surprised by it.” She drew herself up a little taller as she continued. “But such skill can only go so far. You have been lucky to not receive our legion’s full attention before now, but your luck will shortly run out. In truth, my forces are furious at your tactics, as we consider the use of storm clouds in such a manner as dishonorable in the extreme.”

“Dishonorable?”I curled my lip as Fell Flight spat out the word. “You invade using tunnels, slay our generals with mind control gems, slaughter civilians at Cloudsdale, besiege Canterlot with dragons”—we had only received word of that in the past hour along with a notice of Gamma’s failed attack on Raptor; methinks I was stunned by the reports of Sundiver’s likely death—“and then you have the utter gall to complain about our use of unconventional tactics? After all your atrocities this day, methinks your side has no business claiming to be honorable about anything!” Fell Flight snarled, baring her teeth to show her thestral fangs, looking very out of place and menacing against her pony body.

Rialta wasn’t quite able to suppress her flinch. “Believe what you wish, bat-pony. Nevertheless, despite your distasteful tactics, we offer you and your battalion Honor—the unconditional surrender of this outpost in exchange for fair treatment and the promise to be returned to your families alive and unharmed after the war. You have proven yourself worthy warriors, but ‘tis no doubt you have seen the force we are massing against you. We have not attacked you whilst bringing up additional soldiers, but our preparations to do so are nearly complete. Fog or no, be assured you will not survive our coming strike,” she told Fell Flight, but ‘twas no doubt she was addressing me.

Fell Flight was unimpressed, giving a contemptuous snort. “Now where did I last hear that…? Ah yes! From that idiot sub-Tribune this morning who thought she could beat us with but an unsupported Talon cohort and a single crossbow volley!” my second replied; I must admit that I was immensely enjoying her verbal dismantling of her gryphon counterpart. “You can take your offer of honor and feed it to your crows, Tribune! Be assured that we will not forsake our duty or surrender this outpost without a fight!”

“You have already put up a fight and inflicted severe losses,” Rialta tried again, her tail flicking in agitation as she visibly struggled to maintain her composure; we didn’t know at the time she was partially responsible for that debacle by not preventing Sub-Tribune Yalis from attacking without orders. “You have fought well and already done all that honor requires. So why continue when you cannot win?”

“Because unlike you, we are not motivated by honor, Tribune.” To my surprise, ‘twas Stormrunner who answered, stepping forward past me. He rarely said much, but when he did, his words were best heeded. “We fight because we are soldiers of Equestria, charged with her protection and defense. We fight because ‘tis our duty—because we have pledged our lives to our nation and princess, and we cannot fulfill that pledge as prisoners,” he said, starting to speak more fervently.

“We fight because every soldier we slay here is one more that cannot invade or threaten our nation. Because every moment we delay you here means your timetable slips and your invasion falters!” he finished, leaving us all with prideful, determined smiles by the end of his speech.

“Well said, Celestial Guardspony. Except for one minor point.” This time, ‘twas one of Rialta’s subordinates who stepped forward and spoke; an older and larger earth gryphon tiercel garbed in the gold armor of a Knight Centurion who spoke accented Equish. “‘Twould seem you proceed from a false assumption of your own. You think we fight for honor? Hardly. We fight for our side no less than you, and we know that we risk annihilation from your alicorn princess for doing so.

“But we are taking that risk—not for glory or honor, but to save our race and our nation. To overthrow your princess to ensure she cannot go mad like her sister and destroy not just our Empire, but the world entire!”

“How dare you…” Methinks I had never seen Stormrunner so angry as he snorted his indignation and pawed at the ground. “So this is why you invade? Having served at the side of My Princess for nearly a decade, I know her well and can say with certainty that the danger you describe does not exist! Methinks I would challenge you to a duel for your slander, Centurion, but ‘tis certain circumstances alone will settle the matter soon enough!”

The large earth gryphon lowered his head. “I am Centurion Cassian Nael of the Fortis Knights, and I will accept your challenge at any time, Guardspony!” He drew his enormous battle axe and pointed it at Stormrunner, who deployed his wingblades in response, looking ready to issue one right then and there. “In fact, why wait? Methinks we can duel here and now, if you wish!”

I immediately headed it off by stepping between them, though I couldn’t help but note the irony of a mare stepping between stallions to break up a fight before it began. ‘Twas usually the other way around in Equestrian culture given our mare-heavy society; stallions could stop fights between mares simply by interposing themselves and triggering an ingrained mare instinct to not endanger males.

“Stand down, Master Sergeant. ‘Tis not the time,” I told him sternly, glaring him back before returning my attention to Rialta. “He speaks for all of us, and thus, methinks you have your answer, Tribune. We will not surrender!”

“That is your decision, commander. But is it that of your soldiers?” she asked me, looking rattled despite her best efforts. “Do they wish to die for a hopeless cause?”

“That it is hopeless is a matter of opinion, Tribune!” I retorted.

“Is it? Then perchance you wouldst allow me to enlighten you of certain facts, Commander Firefly,” Rialta began, raising her voice so that the squad behind me could hear and sounding at least a little more confident. “As of this parley, your battalion is now the only remaining Equestrian border force that remains west of your Outpost Omega, which is being assaulted even as we speak.

“Under Legate Galea’s leadership, and mine before his, our legion has destroyed every other Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps base in this sector, leaving you with no chance of reinforcement or relief. You have won two fights, but in the end, you have only inconvenienced us, and the losses you have inflicted on our legion are far from crippling.

“In short, you cannot run and you cannot win. You face not just the Talons, but the Knights now, and believe me when I say that when we strike again, the mistakes of this morning will not be repeated. You will fall here without a doubt, slain to the last pony, and none will know of your victories or stand!”

“We care not,” I told her sharply but succinctly. “We decline your offer, Tribune.”

Rialta stared at me in disbelief. “Perchance I did not make myself clear, Commander. If you choose to fight, you will die!”

“And perchance you are hard of hearing, as the answer is no!” Fell Flight hissed at her, the seemingly unnatural sound coming from an equine causing the eagless to take an involuntary step back, to the frowns of her subordinates, most notably Nael himself. “Methinks further discussion is pointless! I say we are done here, Commander!” my second suggested.

“As do I, Master Sergeant. Do your worst, Tribune,” I told her as I turned to leave, my voice calm in direct contrast to Fell Flight’s browbeating. “But do not expect a quick or easy victory.”

Despite our threatened departure and her visibly frazzled nerves, Rialta made one last attempt, perchance aware she was losing face in front of her forces. “And what of your son, Commander?” she called after me, stopping me short. “Yes, we know of him. Despite his treasonous acts, we would spare Gavian Ravenoff as well and even allow him to stay with you in captivity. But if you choose to fight? He will receive the treatment of all traitors, beginning with a public tribunal and ending with his head on a spike!”

With great deliberateness, I turned back to her and locked gazes with her; with my emotions roiled and both warrior and motherly instincts asserting themselves, whatever she saw in my eyes made her swallow. “You will die before that happens, Tribune. And he would rather die than be returned to the Empire that thought his talents useless and very life worthless,” I informed her, my voice calm but ice cold. The latter was no idle boast; he had sworn he would not return to the Empire, pledging to fight and die at my side the night before.

“Ah yes. He is an artist, we are told.” Nael all but sneered, though given the glance he shot at the Tribune, I was given cause to wonder whether ‘twas more directed at the idea or at Rialta’s less-than-inspiring performance at the parley. “The Empire has no use for such softness, and it disgusts me that you encourage it in him. But perchance ‘tis for the best. We are warriors, after all, and those who cannot fight have no place in gryphon society. Such refuse as he is best cast aside.”

“I can fight!”a male gryphon voice called out from behind me, causing my head to whip around as Gavian himself suddenly flew forth to stand by me, a surprised-looking Swift Strike belatedly rushing to his side. “And if you wish, Centurion, I’ll prove it to you right now!” he told them in the near-perfect Equish he’d acquired since the start of the year, having mastered our language in a mere matter of months.

“Gavian!” I had a moment of real panic when I saw him, fearful of their reaction to him, and he was indeed met with narrowed eyes and angry tail lashes as they saw him wearing purloined blue-painted Talon armor and wielding a stolen Raven scimitar. “Sky Sergeant, what were you—?”

“Sorry, ma’am. He was afraid ‘twas a trap and if so, you might be slain and he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his oath to die with you. He insisted on watching, and then he burst forth by himself when he heard that,” Swift Strike explained shortly as Gavian began engaging the Knight Centurion in his native tongue.

The two exchanged words in Aeric for a bit, initially amused tones from the large tiercel clashing with increasingly angry and forceful ones from Gavian. I only knew a word or two of Aeric then, picking out “honor” and “warrior” at various points. But whatever was said, their talk ended with drawn weapons and a final sharp exchange of words, Gavian pointing his Raven blade in goading challenge at the Knight Centurion, who for the first time showed genuine anger, snarling sharply and hefting his axe, looking ready to slay the much smaller Gavian on the spot.

Fell Flight grinned as Swift Strike grimaced, both knowing the gryphon language as they did. “What did he say?” I asked the latter in little more than a whisper.

“In blunt terms… Nael told him ‘twas in his best interest to surrender and Gavian told him to go rut his mother, ma’am,” Swift Strike answered in equally low tones, speaking in his distinct Trottingham accent. “He also renewed his oath to die defending you and all Equestria before he would return to the Empire.”

“That’s our lad!” Fell Flight said approvingly, going up beside him and putting an affectionate wing over him. “At least there’s one honorable gryphon here!” she added, insulting the Imperials even as she complimented Gavian, escorting him back to our lines.

Unable to suppress my own grin, I moved up to flank him, putting my wing over him as well. “You have your answer, Tribune. If this is to be our end, be assured that ‘twill be paid for with rivers of gryphon blood.

“And be assured that should we meet in battle… whether ‘tis by my blades or my son’s, you will fall first!” I warned her, having already taken her measure and found it wanting, both as a soldier and commander. Methinks I sensed that Nael was going to be a problem, however, as he appeared to be a skilled and veteran warrior.

An appraisal that was confirmed as he stepped towards me, ignoring Fell Flight and Stormrunner. “Bold words, Commander. Though I find him without honor and the idea that he can fight laughable, I acknowledge your so-called son’s devotion to you is real. But I cannot help but wonder if ‘tis shared by your subordinates.” He nodded behind me at Blindside’s squad, which was standing silent but listening, their thoughts unreadable.

“Perchance your son will fight because he has nowhere else to go. But your soldiers do. I wonder if they are so eager to sacrifice their lives for a lost cause? In fact, why not put the question to them?” he called out so they could hear. “Methinks that more than a few would take our offer to surrender if it meant one day seeing their families again.”

My eyes narrowed. “Nary a one would, Centurion,” I told him, desperately trying to quash a sudden and very unwelcome sense of doubt. On the face of it, I didn’t think many or even any would, given how closely we had bonded as comrades over the past year; those malcontents who had no stomach for combat or the severe training I had given the battalion had left long before. And yet…

He smiled almost sweetly, perchance recognizing my uncertainty. “Then methinks there is no danger of putting the choice before them,” he told me, resheathing his axe before walking right up to me between an incredulous Stormrunner and Fell Flight, who did not stop him from going nose to nose with me, trying to intimidate me with his larger size and battle-tested physique as Fell Flight had his tribune.

Though his effort was in vain—I’d faced Guardsponies as large as him without flinching—he had a powerful presence and his very manner spoke of great confidence, one borne of long battlefield experience and all the acquired warrior skill that came with it. He held my gaze for a moment, testing my nerve before speaking again, his tone both commanding and contemptuous.

“We have offered you Honor, Commander—an offer that will be rescinded if ‘tis not accepted shortly. By order of Legate Galea, you have until midnight to surrender your force. That leaves you just half a hora in which we will not attack unless you do,” he told me, using the gryphon term for hour. “Thirty of your minutes during which your soldiers and even your son, despite his insults to honor, can emerge safely without weapons to be taken prisoner. Thirty minutes… in which you can give your soldiers the option to be spared.

“And then? We will simply slay whoever is left!” He smirked, leaving me in some admiration at the size of his decidedly non-equine apples. “Perchance it will cost us another century or two of casualties given the skill of your soldiers, but as the destruction of your battalion will bring us closer to winning the war and ending the threat of your power-mad princess, be assured that ‘tis a price we are willing to pay!”

He then turned to Stormrunner upon hearing his angry snort. “And as for you, Guardspony…” He went nose to nose with his stallion counterpart next; twas only when they were side by side that I noticed the slightly duller shade of the gold Knight armor compared to the bright gold of the Celestial Guard. “Surrender or no, if you wish to defend your precious princess’ honor, I will be more than happy to provide you a duel field for it! Face me in single combat… if you dare,” he offered without any hint of hesitation or doubt that he could win, and then turned on his leonine heel to leave, but not before calling back one final warning.

“You have until the mare in the moon reaches her apex in the sky, Commander Firefly,” he said with a nod at the blood-red moon hanging overhead; the ominous hue an announcement by the princess to all ponies that Equestria was at war. “Fail to surrender, and that means you, your son, and your entire force die. Choose wisely,” he advised us, at which point he departed along with the rest of the gryphons, leaving us alone on the cliff edge.

The short flight back to base through the fog was spent in silence.

Despite all, Nael’s words had had their effect, and I found myself contemplating the unthinkable—the surrender of my force. We had fought well, but I feared he was right that to continue to do so would be to sacrifice it to little real end. We had already bloodied them badly, but what was another century or two of gryphon troops in the general scheme of things? And though I was fully willing and in fact intended to fight and die myself, what right had I to ask my entire battalion to sacrifice themselves along with me; fight to the death in a futile last stand?

Thus, after some subdued discussion with those who had been present at the parley, I recalled all patrols, ordering my battalion to assemble in the fog on the main drill field in platoon formations; ‘twas five minutes before all were present and accounted for. “Soldiers of Outpost Epsilon! Listen and take heed!” I called into my blue command gem, not knowing how I was going to say what I needed to say.

I began by reciting our current situation, telling them that we were now all that remained of the Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps border forces this side of Outpost Omega, which was now under attack and likely to fall by daybreak. I emphasized that our rescue or escape was now all but impossible, and with Canterlot besieged by a clan of dragons, Our Princess would not be intervening. We were on our own, and increasingly unlikely to survive the night.

“You are the finest soldiers and battalion a commander could ever wish for. I am proud of each and every one of you, for your resolve and superb performance in battle this day. But now, a great and very grave decision is upon us,” I told them. “We have won two victories, but with over a thousand gryphon troops waiting to attack us outside the fog, our continued survival seems impossible.

“The gryphons have offered us honor,” I told them through gritted teeth, “and I believe their offer is genuine—fair treatment if we surrender, with the promise to be returned to our homes and families unharmed after the war.”

I wasn’t sure how to take it when nopony spoke or moved, aside from a few frowns and darting eyes, individual soldiers looking at each other to appraise the feelings of their comrades. ‘Tis my choice to fight and die, but it may not be all of yours,” I told them. “Thus, I will not make to stay and fight an order. Thus, any who wish to surrender… may.” I closed my eyes and lowered my head as I spoke the final word, awaiting and fearing the first pony to step forward, strangely certain ‘twould likely lead to many more.

A Son’s Plea

To my surprise, ‘twas not a pony who spoke up first, but Gavian. “Mother?” He flew up beside me. “May I speak?” He bared his throat politely, holding out his paw for my blue command gem.

Methinks, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Gavian…” I was not quite able to keep my voice from breaking even as I passed it to him. “They have offered you honor, too…”

“Crows take their honor, Mother!” he spat out the Gryphon invective with great vehemence, causing me to jerk my head up in surprise. “They have none!”

His shout had gotten everypony’s attention, and he now made the most of it, taking flight and hovering twenty feet overhead where all could see him, speaking into the gem. “Listen to me, all of you! When I first came here, ‘twas as your enemy; a wretched raider who joined only because he had no other choice and no place to go,” he began. “I yearned for a home and acceptance above all else, but I did not find it there or any place in the Empire!

“But for all my worthlessness and wretchedness back then, you accepted me! It took time, but you all did! And for such kindness, I would fight not just for Equestria, but for every last one of you!” he promised us, his fervor having a noticeable effect as my soldiers were starting to stand up straighter.

“You fed me, you schooled me, you let me practice art and even taught me how to fight, letting me learn to become the warrior I always dreamt! You did everything for me my own kind and nation would not! You took me in whilst my own kind cast me out! And now, I see from your faces that some of you contemplate surrender?” he asked, aghast.

“I came from the Empire, and methinks I know only too well what they would do should they win this war! The rule they would impose is one where art is unknown, where only warriors are valued and where parents abandon six-year old cubs for being too small!” His voice quavered as he spoke. “Is that what you would have them turn this rich and wonderful nation into? Subjects and slaves to a race whose leadership looks upon ponies as little more than meat?” he demanded to know, tears in his eyes.

“No!” the resounding shout came back.

“Then you must fight!” he implored us, then turned to me. “I swore an oath, Mother! I swore an oath to Princess Celestia herself that I would be loyal to Equestria! I swore an oath to you that I would fight and die at your side if fate decreed it! And I take none of it back!” he announced as he drew his Raven sword, which he had come to wield so well. “The Centurion was wrong—I do have other places I can go, but I choose to stay here! To fight and die with all my friends and family—with all of you!”

He waited for the huzzahs to die down before turning his gaze on Flight Sergeant Osprey, perchance indicating his next words were meant for her ears. “Six soldiers died in a raid defending me. On this night, I repay the debt... with my own blood!” he announced, holding his sword high as Osprey bowed her head. She had once hated him for the loss of two friends in that raid and accepted an offer to duel him to the death over it, but he had bested her with his newfound sword skill, sparing her life on the condition that she apologize to me and engage in training with him.

She had been good to her word, and though her warming up to him was not instant, she would now defend him with her life. In fact, they all would, and just as Nael’s words had deflated us, Gavian’s sent our spirits soaring.

“Well said, my brave and loyal son,” I told him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you. We needed to hear that. And methinks there is nothing I can add... except that I would sooner die than allow the future he describes to pass! I am fighting! Now who is with me?” I asked, feeling far more confident in the answer.

“I am, Ma’am!” Fell Flight announced first to little surprise, stepping to stand at my right hoof. “For me, there is no choice! Fighting is in my blood, and I will not sit out the war in the forlorn hope that all I love will survive without me!” She proclaimed loudly, then her teeth clenched as she stared down at the ground.

“My home city has been struck. My family might be slain. My command and comrades at Omega are lost. My coltfriend in Baltimare might already be dead. I know not their fates; all I do know at this moment is what I still have and what lies in front of me—my base and battalion! And I will not surrender either! I intend to slay as many gryphons as I can this night to make sure the harm they have inflicted on all I hold dear is avenged!”

“Well said!”Flight Sergeant Osprey shouted and stepped forward next. “Methinks you aren’t the only one hurting over Omega, Master Sergeant. Those of us who served there with you saw plenty of action and too many of our friends fall. We knew to expect attack or death at any time!

“But despite the danger, we stood fast! We didn’t back down to raiders or even Red Talons, and we will not cower before the gryphons now!” she proclaimed, to sounds of agreement from the other members of the three former Omega squads that made up her veteran platoon, who stepped forward as one. “If our sisters at Omega are fighting and dying, then we can do no less! For Omega, for our lost comrades and for our endangered families back in Cloudsdale, to say nothing of all Equestria—I say we fight!” she said to the cheers of her platoon, then turned to her right, to the next platoon in line.

The leader of that platoon actually chuckled. “Methinks hopeless fights and last stands are something they don’t teach you about at the Equestrian Officer Academy, ma’am,” Second Lieutenant Snow Squall told me, then turned his eyes up towards me, resolution in his gaze. “They only teach you to think in purely tactical terms of how you balance the need to both preserve your force whilst inflicting the maximum possible damage on the enemy.

“But if one is not possible? Then you must maximize the other!” he noted, nodding in satisfaction to himself; methinks he’d found his own rationale for our continued resistance at that moment.

But he wasn’t done yet, raising his eyes back to meet mine. “So maximize it we will! Methinks we still have plenty of fight left, ma’am! I have not been at Epsilon long, but ‘tis certain I have been very impressed with it, both with the quality of its soldiers and their leaders! ‘Twill be my honor to fight and die with you, not as an officer or base commander but as the simple soldier I once was!” he proclaimed, followed by his entire platoon announcing their intention to stay, raising their wingblades to the skies along with him.

“You don’t even have to ask me, Ma’am,” Master Sergeant Stormrunner said next from the head of his platoon. “I couldn’t just give up. Not when there’s plenty of gryphons left to kill and that insulting Centurion to slay!” he said to the hoofstomping approval of his own platoon.

“If he’s fighting, we’re fighting!” one of his squad leaders called out, the mares of his platoon obeying their instincts to defend stallions at all costs. “Methinks we’ll spill so much gryphon blood they’ll wish they never invaded!”

All that left of my four combat platoon leaders was Blindside, who looked up at me with her one good eye, which was glimmering. “I’ve been with you here since the beginning, ma’am, and methinks I’ll be damned if I leave you here to die alone!” she proclaimed with a stomp of her hoof—she and her original squad had come with me to Epsilon on the same transport so many months earlier; she’d been there as long as I had.

“You know how I feel and where my heart lies, ma’am—you saved me, and ‘tis certain I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned you now. I cannot speak for my platoon, but in life or in death, I’ll follow you to the gates of Tartarus!” she said with a salute as the rest of her platoon proclaimed their fervent agreement.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” I returned the salute and bowed my head. Blindside had admitted she’d had feelings for me but a month earlier; ‘twas a consequence at least in part of my saving her life in the Hearth’s Warming raider attack Gavian was captured in. ‘Twas a desperate and forlorn declaration of love, given the battalion was breaking up to spread its acquired skill throughout the Corps. Knowing she could no longer stay with me, she had accepted an offer to join the Black Lances, who had recruited her for her otherworldly awareness of her surroundings she’d developed to compensate for her lack of two good eyes. “It means much to me.”

“We’re with you too, ma’am!” her second squad leader, Corporal Shrike, spoke up. “I have heirs, and I’ll die to make sure they don’t have to live as slaves under gryphon rule! We’ve all faced death already, both today and during last year’s raids! We’re ready to do so again!” he promised, stomping his hoof and flaring his wings for emphasis. A rare combat-assigned Corps stallion, he’d slain his first gryphon at the same engagement I did and gone through the same soul-searching afterwards, requiring time with his herd to come to terms with it. But come to terms with it he had, returning a veteran soldier and taking Blindside’s place as her platoon’s 2nd squad leader.

“I’m in as well, ma’am,” Swift Strike spoke up from beside Gavian. “Methinks I’ve cheated death so many times by now that ‘tis no use running from it. ‘Tis also not in my nature to surrender—the Lances complete their missions or die trying! And besides, I have not yet had the opportunity to engage the gryphons myself.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “’Tis time I do so. I will fight and die this night not as a Lance, but as a regular Corps soldier!”

“Thank you, Sky Sergeant. I cannot help but feel regret, though…” I said almost wistfully.

“Regret, ma’am?” Swift Strike asked.

“Regret,” I confirmed. “After all the time you spent training me, and after all the times we sparred, methinks I will fall here without ever having bested you!” I announced to an eruption of laughter from both the Sky Sergeant and the rest of my assembled troops. The sound itself was very heartening, and I felt my chest swell with pride at the devotion to duty and desire to fight on that I was hearing.

“Ma’am? If I may?” Sergeant Herbal Balm, the leader of our six-unicorn healer team spoke up, giving me some pause—’twas certain that if any unit members wished to surrender, ‘twould probably be our healers, who preferred to be pacifistic and had only learned the killing arts at my direct orders months earlier. “We don’t want to die and we don’t want to kill. ‘Tis not in our nature, and we hated you for forcing us to master these,” he told us, motioning with distaste to the longbow and quiver strapped to his back.

“But you asked us then if we relished the idea of watching those in our care cut down without reason or mercy, showing us the graves of those who died here before us, unable to defend their patients. You asked us if we would trust in the good intentions of our enemies, and the answer… is no. I do not trust this offer. And even if I did, methinks I see no future of being allowed to care for others in captivity, for they would restrict our magic and prevent us from tending patients.

“I hate fighting, but methinks the only thing I hate more is the thought of the gryphons winning and watching them from afar as they conquer my country, slaying my friends and family. We’re with you, ma’am! Our bows are yours to command!” With his words, the six healers levitated their longbows as one.

“S-so am I!” I heard a surprisingly familiar voice, looking down to see… a heavily bandaged Sky Sentry listening, standing with the aid of a healer, wearing a spare Corps combat uniform with his Guardspony armor battered into uselessness; only his red sergeant stripes from them remained, now clipped to his shoulders. “I already watched one outpost slain to the last, ma’am! I couldn’t save them and should have died with them, but… I’ll die here with all of you!” He couldn’t quite keep the catch from his voice as he spoke.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” My heart went out to him, leaving me wondering again what Tartarus he’d been through; he hadn’t been willing to tell me when I’d seen him again after he’d gotten out of surgery, only asking me to stay with him and hold his hoof—which I’d done until he’d fallen asleep again, as I found mare instincts to protect a stallion perchance asserting themselves for the first time.

“Well, ma’am…” Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt was the last to speak; he’d been conferring with the six teams of his weather platoon whilst the others were speaking. He’d always struck me as a rather laid-back stallion but ‘twas no doubt in my mind he was good at his post, training his teams well and knowing the skies inside and out. “Methinks we’ve had a good run. If it ends here, so be it.

“But you know... it strikes me that we still have all these storm clouds, and ‘twould be a terrible shame to not use them…” he told me with a rather evil gleam in his eyes, one soon copied by his subordinates.

“We have ten minutes and half our cloud cache remaining. Thanks to the fog, we also have a very warm and saturated atmosphere to work with—perfect storm fuel! So if Fell Flight still wishes to create a supercell, methinks we now have an excellent opportunity to do so...” He proceeded to outline a plan that would never have even been considered but for our current predicament, one that both presumed—if not hastened!—our inevitable destruction but promised to exact an enormously high price from the gryphons in the process.

“But that’s crazy…” Snow Squall said when his fellow stallion had finished, though the intrigued smile on his face belied his own words.

“‘Twould certainly be unexpected…” Stormrunner noted, sporting a sly grin of his own.

“Methinks I like it,” First Sergeant Still Way closed his eyes and smiled serenely. “’Twould be an end worthy of song.”

“Methinks I love it!” Fell Flight replied enthusiastically to little surprise, baring her pointed teeth in her own growing and gleeful grin. “I say we do it!”

“’Twould certainly neutralize their numbers and make a mess of any attack,” Swift Strike agreed, the barest hint of a smile touching his face. “And we would have the advantage in such conditions.”

“Indeed we would. So be it!” I proclaimed. “As they have been so generous as to grant us the time we need, ‘tis time to turn our ultimate weapon loose!”

It took less than two minutes to organize ourselves for the effort. Throwing open the vault doors of our underground storm cloud cache, we began removing clouds as fast as we could, all but flinging them up in the fog-choked air before piling them together, fusing them into one large and growing mass. We’d practiced this several times a year in case the call came in to release a superstorm upon the gryphons, but lacking static targets, it seemed unlikely we would ever get the chance.

‘Twas the brilliance of Blue Bolt’s plan to recognize that we now did have a static target where we could guarantee the gryphons would be—our own base! If we could make the storm erupt overhead just as the gryphons struck, they would be trapped within it. So would we, but as pegasi, our wind and weather magic left us much more able to function in such extreme conditions, giving us the ability to take a large number of them with us.

In the past, we had practiced making such storms using our cloud cache and could do so with the full battalion available in the space of fifteen minutes. We had less than ten here and yet, it came easy. Part of it may have been the ideal atmosphere, but even allowing for it, our efforts were far more efficient than they should have been. We were resolved to die here, and somehow, ‘twas an incredibly liberating thing. All that mattered now was our task:

Build the storm and, using the promised midnight attack on our base as a lure, trap and slaughter the gryphons within it, taking as many of them with us as we could.

Sabaton: Resist and Bite

Unable to help, as earth ponies could not manipulate clouds or weather, Spear Sergeant Steelheart began pounding out a rhythm on a set of drums owned by our earth pony maintenance crew. Trapped there by the sudden invasion, the generally blonde-maned and bearded crew themselves took up their instruments in support of Steelheart whilst Gavian helped the healers move their patients and equipment into the quickly vacated vault, which would become both our infirmary and our final redoubt. As the pounding beat of the drums took hold, the band began playing a very compelling martial melody. I felt a strange surge of energy within me, and then...

To my great surprise, I began to sing right into my blue command gem in time to the music as we went to work!

“War has come too quickly!
The Gryphons closing in!
We’re a single Corps battalion,
Two hundred soldiers strong!”

I recited our situation lyrically, stunned at how smoothly I could do so. Doubly so when my busy soldiers answered as one.

“War begun…”
“Will not run…”

They rejoined together. I didn’t know how ‘twas happening, but the words somehow suggested themselves, and I sung them like they were as familiar a melody to me as one of the old drinking songs I’d learned at the Aching Drum, my favorite pub when I was growing up in Spur:

“Outpost Epsilon endangered
As the Gryphons come in force!
Their legions pushing deeper;
Their troops are all around!”

Again, my soldiers answered in the same song, even as they continued to dig out storm clouds and assemble them, a few going to form a battle line to stop the gryphons from interfering whilst the rest were piled into a single mass, fused together and steadily expanded outwards and upwards.

“Hold the line…”
“Play for time…”

They rejoined, their thoughts clearly matching my own, taking strength from the song and their own resolve.

“Fight battle after battle!
No rescue is in sight!
Keep their forces stalled
Until the last pony falls!”

My soldiers announced their agreement quite forcefully as we began building our supercell in earnest; the music somehow only adding to our pace!

“We’re the Corps!
And we will NOT relent!
Fight back!
For we are all that’s left!
We’re the Corps!
We are warriors, all!
Resist!
And answer duty’s call!”

My heart swelled with pride at their declaration, watching and helping as they built a growing cumulus congestus cloud right over the outpost; Stormrunner’s platoon starting to power its updraft by drawing air in from below into its base as I assisted with Blindside’s platoon in providing the needed shearing wind from a bit higher up, just below the highest level of the fog.

“Despite our skill in battle,
Their numbers will still tell!
We’re alone and far outnumbered.
Our force cannot prevail!”

The response of my soldiers was instant:

“Let them come...”
”We’re not done…”

Wingblades were deployed and teeth were bared to emphasize the point as we continue to feed clouds and air into our last resort and chosen instrument of destruction. At the conclusion of the second chorus, I felt the growing storm begin to draw breath, its wind and size now increasing of its own accord and a static charge beginning to build as I launched into the next stanza:

“For when the Empire offers honor,
Our surrender for our lives!
We’ll reject them with a smile;
We’ll surprise them with a laugh!”

“Do your worst…”
“You’ll fall first…”

Somehow, they even repeated my own words!

We are soldiers of Celestia!
We will not flag or fail!
Honored is our duty
In defense of our land!

They launched into the now familiar chorus as the supercell above our heads began to explosively expand and grow, the storm clouds seeding it, gorging on the warm and humid air the fog had left below.

“We’re the Corps!
And we will NOT relent!
Fight back!
For we are all that’s left!
We’re the Corps!
We are warriors, all!
Resist!
And answer duty’s call!”

Now instead of just me singing the final stanzas, ‘twas myself and all my soldiers:

“For Princess and for Province!
The Talons closing in!
We cannot hold much longer!
Our final stand approaches!
For country and for comrades!
The Talons closing in!
Our final stand approaches!
The Corps will NOT surrender!

The song paused except for the martial melody in our minds, fed to us by the band and Harmony itself, letting us quickly and efficiently build the storm above and around us, its tower erupting both vertically and horizontally out of the fog below and sucking it all in, its twisting winds and monstrously strong updraft already tugging at the gryphons surrounding us as the storm took on a life of its own, feeding off the large amounts of warm and humid air below and rapidly expanding in breadth to cover not just our base, but the gryphons pushing in just as midnight was reached. And yet, even over the growing gale, our song was still heard clearly:

“We’re the Corps!
And we will NOT relent!
Fight back!
For we are all that’s left!
We’re the Corps!
We are warriors, all!
Resist!
And answer duty’s call!”

We completed the final chorus just as the Imperials struck and the first bolts of lightning began crackling through the cloud, the storm about to break in all its fury directly overhead, engulfing pony and gryphon soldiers alike.

And so we arrive at the cusp of what seemed certain to be our final stand, but ‘tis here I must lay the pen down so I may be with my father, who is about to undergo a major operation. I regret leaving it off here, but with not just myself but all of the Epsilon survivors heading to Canterlot to be there for him, none are currently available to describe this fight.

I must apologize to the readers for this, but some things are simply more important than this tale. ‘Tis not to say that others cannot speak to it, however. Whilst I am certain some of you were hoping for us to resolve the fight in this chapter, ‘tis another point of view that needs to be heard first, so I will turn the quill over to a pony who can tell it.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain Firefly. And to those who read this, I bid you fair tidings.

Though Admiral Tailwind was offered the opportunity to write this section, he declined, as he is currently slated for an experimental medical procedure that, if successful, will at long last restore his ability to fly. Though there are no guarantees of success and he is now into his early seventies, he decided he did not wish to pass on without giving himself the chance to ‘feel the wind in his mane’ once more. He wants his mind to be clear for the procedure, to properly appreciate what will happen, and so ‘tis by his request that I take up the quill.

I am Shady, Commodore of Royal Navy Battle Group Capricorn (formerly Battle Group Four), though I was but a Captain at war’s outbreak. Befitting my rank, I was in command of perchance the proudest warship in the Navy, the EAS Loyalty. ‘Twas, at the time, the most advanced of our capital airships currently in service, although due to the Navy’s lack of personnel and funding, which it had to fight for in the face of apathy and resentment from the other services, ‘twas undercrewed and undersupplied when the war broke out.

Despite that, I ultimately decided that we could make a difference in this war. As those of you who have read the fifth chapter in this volume may recall, I was urged into action by the words of Tailwind, my then-first officer. And so ‘twas that, in the absence of our battle group commander and without orders from Canterlot, I took command and ordered the Loyalty and her smaller, fast-attack escorts, the Duty and the Vigil, to set sail for Outpost Epsilon, in the hopes we could evacuate the base and rescue its garrison.

‘Twas a grave decision that, during the ten hours of transit it required, left me in no little amount of doubt. As fate would have it, though, we were soon faced with the choice of not just how to proceed, but even if to proceed at all…

—Commodore Shady
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad
Commander, Royal Navy Battle Group Capricorn

Master and Commander

Bridge
EAS Loyalty
Four hundred miles west of Outpost Epsilon
September 1st, 1139 AC
2335 hours

“Captain!” Ensign Kusema called out as we skirted the north shore of the large Celestial Sea six hours into our journey, her hoof on her ear gem as she listened to the very ether around us, an ability our experimental equipment granted. The battle group, as Tailwind said before, was used as a proving ground for new ideas and technology for the weapons labs of Stalliongrad, and ‘twas to our benefit here. “Methinks I can hear gryphons now!”

“You can?” I turned to my right in some surprise. We were still nearly four hundred miles from the border; I didn’t think their communications could reach that far… or was it simply that they had already penetrated into Equestria that deeply?

“Aye, ma’am! We’re close enough that I can pick up some gryphon dispatches on their scrying networks! ‘Twould seem they don’t encrypt their communications!” She shook her head in amazement, having stayed up well past her shift to remain at her post, refusing all relief.

Methinks I could hardly blame her for that—who could sleep at a time like this, knowing we were heading to a war zone and knew not what we would find once we got there?

“Very well, Ensign. ‘Tis reassuring to know they are foals of the first order. So what are they saying?” I asked in an even voice, knowing she spoke the gryphon tongue—she in fact knew fully a dozen languages, and her cutie mark reflected it, showing crossed quill feathers writing in different scripts against a scroll. But such idle thoughts were lost as, beside me, I heard Tailwind take and hold his breath.

“That Epsilon alone still stands, ma’am!” she announced to my mingled relief and trepidation—relief that they were still alive, but trepidation that we would indeed be entering into a war zone in an attempt to save them; despite my outward calm, ‘twould be a lie to say I was not as much frightened as excited by the prospect, uncertain if my ships and crew were up to the task. “‘Tis certain my Aeric is a bit rusty, but methinks the gryphons said they have massed over a millennium of soldiers against them and given them until midnight to surrender!”

“By midnight?” A look of consternation crossed Tailwind’s features. “That’s not much time…”

“I see,” I replied, nodding slowly as I gauged our chances anew. There’d been reports from all three ships of at least a few crewmembers deserting during the long trip; pegasi flying off the decks and diving for the ground when nopony was watching and at least one case on the Duty where a dozen earth pony and unicorn crew members had commandeered a lifeboat and cast off.

Though disgusted at the cowardice, I’d allowed them to leave, as they’d likely be useless in combat anyway and be more hindrance than help. ‘Twas certain I was taking names, however, and if we survived the next few hours, I intended to have them arrested for desertion. ‘Twas Luna’s long-ago rule that the punishment for abandoning your post and duty was death, and the penalty remained on the Royal Navy books even after all this time. “What is the status of our ballistae and weapons lockers?” I turned to Commander Tailwind sitting at my left, keeping my ire hidden.

“We have most of our newer cannon and half the older ballistae working, and the crews are armed and ready,” Tailwind told me with a nod to Cutlass Cleave, our Mare-at-Arms, who was currently on the bridge stocking its weapons lockers. My second in command was wearing a custom wingblade on his good wing as he patted the folded crossbow strapped to his foreleg, larger and more powerful versions of the wrist-mounted concealable ones the PSD favored. “Heavier weapons including pikes and spears have been stationed at critical points throughout the ship. I ordered our pegasus squadrons to get some sleep in their gear in advance of their expected air battle, but ‘tis doubtful at best they will get much.”

“Methinks I would expect no less,” I replied perfunctorily. Tailwind and I had done all we could; the ship was now as ready as ‘twas going to be. For myself, I was armed with naught but my naval saber, whilst the bridge crew members were likewise armed with weapons that suited their tribe and talents—axes for the earth ponies, small blades and longbows for the unicorns, and wingblades and miniature crossbows for the pegasi, of whom most were assigned to our attack wing.

Some soldiers even had some weapons of their particular heritage; Sora had a neighponese blade on his back passed down through his family whilst down in engineering, I was told that Flash Fix had an old Shetland broadsword he was strong enough to wield with his mouth. ‘Tis certain none of it was regulation, but as I sported a pair of decidedly non-regulation sunshades, ‘twas simply a rule I chose not to enforce. “I want at least one more anti-boarding drill performed before we get too close.”

“But midnight is less than twenty minutes away, Captain!” Tailwind reminded me. “Drills or no, we must increase speed if we are to get there in time!”

“Our fuel reserves will dip dangerously low if we increase speed, ma’am!” Sora spoke up. “We may not have enough left to reach Ursa base on the Lunar Sea!”

“That matters not,” I replied, heading over to study the navigation maps. “As long as we can make our rescue run and then make it far enough to clear gryphon lines, we can get back by sail using wind from our pegasi, whilst waiting for our unicorns to recharge our engines. So yes, we will speed up,” I said to Tailwind’s relief, though methinks ‘twas short-lived given my next words.

“However, we will not go to Epsilon directly. Methinks we will circle around from the north instead,” I announced, levitating the navigation map of northeast Equestria and opening it before me, tracing the route I meant to follow with a quill pen.

“But ma’am!” Tailwind protested as he looked at my proposed route. “Even at flank speed, that would delay our arrival by nearly an hour!”

“But also give us a much better chance to break through to them if we hit the gryphons from the blind side,” I told him. “If we go in directly, we will have to fight through their forward forces, which will be alert and ready to fight themselves. They will see us, they will report us, and methinks we will have multiple cohorts descending upon us in short order. I do not relish that prospect, and neither should you, Commander.” I arched an eyeridge at him.

“But ma’am…” he tried again; I could tell from his frustrated expression he sensed the truth of my words. “The next gryphon attack on Epsilon is going to happen shortly! If we do not hurry, there might be nothing left to rescue by the time we get there!”

I closed my eyes, as this time, ‘twas I that was forced to acknowledge the truth of his words. Only the bridge crew knew that he was the adoptive father of Firefly, the most famous mare in the military and commander of Outpost Epsilon, but my agreeing to help didn’t extend to risking the battle group in a head-on and likely suicidal attack right through the heart of gryphon forces. “I’m sorry, Commander,” I told him, and meant it, raising my voice so the entire bridge crew would hear.

“But we can only help them if we arrive in one piece and take the gryphons by surprise, and methinks the only way we can do that is to circle around to strike them from out of the northern wilderness, where the border does not exist and where they are presumably not patrolling. If we do that, methinks we can reach Epsilon unmolested by 0430, not long before daybreak.”

“They may not survive that long, ma’am…” he reminded me again, somewhat more wanly.

“And neither will we if we go in directly, my friend,” I told him, my voice gentle but firm, praying that for once, the bad luck that had seemed to haunt my life would not affect my chosen mission or the fate of the embattled Epsilon base. “I’m sorry, but my orders are final. This is the only way…” I concluded, preparing to change course and ordering Tailwind to run a final gunnery drill, hoping to keep his mind occupied in the meantime.

After he left, Kusema spoke up again. “Captain? Incoming transmission!”

“Oh?” I looked at her, wondering who was even capable of contacting us at that point.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s from Royal Navy command at Polaris Base in Canterlot!” she reported in some shock, piping it through the crystal speakers at my instruction, another experimental feature that allowed for instant voice communication with those in possession of the same improved communication gems we were equipped with.

“Captain! This is Admiral Coral Torch!” a sharp mare voice sounded over the intercom.

“Admiral?” My jaw fell open as I recognized the commander of the entire Royal Navy, coming to reflexive attention. “How could you be contacting us all the way from Canterlot and in the face of dragon interference…?” As far as I knew, the presence of hostile dragons blocked dragonfire-based communications, and even without the dragons, we should have been far out of range.

“Never mind that! I’ve just been informed of your departure from Stalliongrad without orders! Where are you and just what in the name of Luna herself do you think you’re doing?” she demanded to know.

“What I prefer to think Luna herself would have approved of, ma’am,” I replied smoothly. “As there may be gryphons listening in, I decline to report my position. But what I’m doing is my duty,” I felt compelled to add. “The Navy’s duty to all Equestria!”

“Your duty, Captain, is to obey orders, and you received none! All the navy bases except Stalliongrad were struck and many airships and crews lost! We need your group intact and fully readied for action, not thrown into a half-baked plan to rescue your first officer’s daughter!” she accused, causing me to grimace. The Admiral was many things, but stupid wasn’t among them; ‘twas no surprise she’d been able to figure it out on her own. “A single Corps battalion is not worth your three ships! I order you to break off your course and divert to Royal Navy Base Ursa on the Lunar Sea at once!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I replied after a brief pause, speaking softly and bowing my head. “Methinks you can court-martial me later, but lacking orders or the presence of Commodore Catamaran, the decision to take the battle group into action was mine and mine alone. The rescue attempt needs to be made, not just for her but for the Navy and all Equestria!”

“What?” came the incredulous reply.

“As a service and a nation, we need at least one victory and one hero to rally around, and if we pull this off, methinks we will gain both!” I explained, somewhat shortly. “For what it’s worth, ‘tis our plan to return to Ursa afterwards. You may arrest me then.”

“If there’s anything left of you or your group!” she corrected in exasperation. “Even if you survive, you’ll be thrown in the brig and then out of the Navy for this, Captain!”

“Then methinks this will be no different than any other job in my life,” I told her, bowing my head again before bringing it back up. “I’m sorry, Admiral. This needs to be done and I will not divert! I will report in again if and when we’re on our way back. Shady out,” I finished, then ordered Kusema with a sharp slashing motion of my hoof to cut the connection.

The Bridge around me had gone deathly silent whilst the Admiral and I were arguing. “We’re doing this against orders, ma’am?” Sora finally asked.

“Not until this minute, but yes,” I admitted. “We had no orders to start. We do now, but I am disobeying them. And methinks you would be fully within your rights to mutiny and relieve me of command over it.

“But I ask that you do not, nor that you mention this to the other ships of the group,” I requested of them, as only the Loyalty could receive such a message; our escorts were older and did not possess our prototype communication equipment. “I am not doing this for myself, or even ultimately for Tailwind’s daughter. I’m doing this because I believe it’s the right thing to do. I wish to strike a blow for the morale of not just the Navy but of all Equestria. Morale methinks we will sorely need in the weeks and months to come.”

The dozen members of the bridge crew looked at each other, then back to me; ‘twas finally the Mare-at-Arms, Senior Starpony Cutlass Cleave, who spoke first. “I’m not happy you didn’t consult us or trust us with this, ma’am, but… given the desertions, methinks I can understand why,” she granted, hefting her namesake for a moment before spinning it around her forehoof. “We have to fight sometime, and ‘twould seem we can make a difference here at the start. I’m ready for battle, ma’am! You can count me in.”

“Me too,” Sora said. “’Tis unthinkable in Neighpon to shirk battle or retreat without a fight as the Admiral demands. Methinks I wouldn’t be worthy of my grandsire’s blade if I did!” he noted, reaching back to partially unsheathe it for a moment.

“You know, my mother told me stories of the gryphons back in the Zebra homeland, ma’am,” Kusema mused. “’Tis certain she hated them. Arrogant, predatory, and enjoyed raiding our ships and northern villages. She even said they used raider groups, just as they do here,” she further noted.

“My mother faced and fought them before I was born, so methinks I can do no less. Orders or no, I’ll fight them, too!” She bared her teeth and flashed a zebra blade at me, the unusually vibrant colors of the metal suggesting it had been alchemically treated to unknown affect. “What about you, Lieutenant?” she asked, turning to the dark-furred stallion officer at her right.

Said stallion considered that, then chuckled. “My great-grandmother passed down stories of my ancestors serving in the Royal Navy all the way back to the glory days of Luna, ma’am,” Lieutenant Aries Azimuth, our pegasus navigator, answered; with his tufted ears and more nocturnal habits there’d been rumors that he in fact had some thestral blood. “And ‘tis certain that turning back now would not be living up to them! I want the Navy to return to glory again as much as you do. So if the Admiral wishes to arrest you, he’ll have to arrest me too!” He deployed his wingblades for emphasis.

That seemed to settle it as the rest of the bridge crew then spoke up, all saying they were in, causing me to sigh with relief—I’d been strangely certain my bad luck meant that they would indeed turn on me, but they had not, and thus, we were now committed to our course.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you,” I acknowledged with a bowed head. “And I will do my best to be worthy of your loyalty this day.”

“Altered course plotted, ma’am,” Lieutenant Azimuth reported from where he’d been looking over the map, making additional annotations of his own on it.

“The Duty and Vigil have been notified,” Kusema confirmed. “Standing by to change course on your orders.”

“Then tell them the order is given. Lieutenant Sora, come about to heading zero-three-five-by-twelve, and increase to flank speed!” I instructed, giving him our course and altitude.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” he acknowledged, spinning the wheel to bring the battle group to a more northeasterly heading and then moving the large speed control lever forward, the soft hum of the engines increasing in volume and frequency as power to the propellers was increased; the group gaining altitude slowly to where the thinner air would allow us greater speed.

I tapped a crystal on my command chair. “Flash Fix, how long to heat up the main armament crystal?” I asked.

“Were Ah anypony else, Ah’d say roughly an hour, ma’am,” our lead engineer replied. “But Ah can have it done in half that.”

“In that case, thirty minutes from now, get it warmed up. I want our newer cannons as ready as our conventional ballistae when we get in range,” I ordered, referring to the experimental magic-firing artillery that were powered from a central source and could launch balls of sheer magical force; enough to level a building or punch right through magus shields.

“Aye-aye, ma’am! Half an hour!” The speakers clicked off.

‘Twas only then, as I stared out in the darkness of the sky, the red war moon casting a ominously crimson, blood-like hue over everything, I couldn’t help but wonder if the Admiral was right and whether either we or Epsilon would survive the night.

Brave men rejoice in adversity, just as brave soldiers triumph in war. —Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Author's Note

Another chapter in the books! I have to say that sometimes, it’s the non-combat chapters I enjoy more, getting to engage in scene-setting and character development around the big battle sequences, which can occasionally be difficult to write.

For those of you that are interested, the Sabaton song Resist and Bite is based on the story of a Belgium infantry unit that fought the Germans as the Blitz into the low countries began, holding their position on the border against far greater numbers. Seemed an appropriate analog for Epsilon here.

https://www.sabaton.net/discography/resist-bite-lyrics/

I’m not allowed to post copyrighted song lyrics in stories, unfortunately, or I’d give them side-by-side comparison here. Regardless, hope you liked both it and the check in with the Royal Navy! Expect all hell to break loose in the next chapter, both figuratively and literally.

Thanks is due, as always, to my prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire and Denim_Blue. Special thanks goes to Leo Archon for writing the beginning and end of the Loyalty section.

The War Begins: 14 - Call of Duty

Dear readers—

I write this short introduction whilst my father, Admiral Tailwind, is in surgery, in the middle of an all-day operation that, if successful, will at long last restore his ability to fly. Though perchance ‘tis understandable that my mind is anywhere but on the Battle of Epsilon at this moment, ‘twould seem that my father was dwelling on it just a few short hours ago.

Unable to sleep as he awaited the morn and contemplating his uncertain fate to follow, and having read Commodore Shady’s entry from the previous chapter, he elected to distract himself from his fears and worries by penning his own recollections of the battle group’s approach to Outpost Epsilon. So before we begin the tale, allow me to present his writings, which he passed to me literally just before he was wheeled into the operating room, saying that whatever happened, he wished me to have and include this accounting of events in the next chapter.

I will do so gladly, and perchance before long I will begin penning the story of the battle myself for distraction as he still has several hours of surgery to go, and longer still to know if it worked.

—Firefly

Fair skies and following winds to all who now read this. As the hour of my long-awaited operation becomes nigh, I find myself increasingly restless and unable to sleep, having declined the relaxation and anti-anxiety spells that were offered to me. With apologies to the healers and surgical specialists assigned to me, I simply do not trust mood-altering magic and never have. I want my wits sharp and head clear for the day to come, even if I am to be unconscious during the course of it.

In truth, ‘twas a surprising parallel between my current mood and what I recalled of that first night of war that made me want to pick up the quill again, even at this late hour. That perchance I only truly understood what some of my subordinates were going through on the approach to Epsilon when I experienced it from the other side myself—knowing that they were going to enter combat soon and not knowing if they would emerge from it.

They were frightened, but determined, even in the face of possible and perchance even likely death. Death is not a likely outcome of this procedure, of course, but is still possible, and I find myself facing it with the same anxiety, fearful of the outcome.

‘Twas then I realized the fear I have now is the same fear they—and I—felt back then; afraid not of dying, but of failure and all that it would mean.

As I read through Commodore Shady’s accounting of events, including her recounting the talk she had with Admiral Coral Torch, I find myself at a bit of a loss. I was told of the Admiral’s call when I returned to the bridge, of course, as well as the Captain’s decision to defy orders. But what I did not know was that then-Captain Shady took full responsibility for the decision and did not even mention to the Admiral that ‘twas me who convinced her to make it. Had I been on the bridge then, I would not have allowed her to do so, offering myself up to the Admiral for arrest and court-martial in her place.

But Shady believed very strongly that a Captain was responsible for all that happened on her ship, and thus, my actions became her own, wholeheartedly embraced and backed. ‘Tis for that reason more than any other I became so fiercely loyal to her afterwards, as did the crew of the Loyalty itself.

Signed,

—Admiral Tailwind
Commander, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Polaris
Canterlot

Interminable Wait (from Star Trek: First Contact)

Observation Deck
EAS Loyalty
330 miles WNW of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0040 hours

I had left the bridge an hour earlier, carrying out the Captain’s orders to run another gunnery drill.

‘Twas a simple enough exercise in releasing bewitched and erratically moving practice balloons and having our ballistae target them with what we called “dry fire”, using false ammunition that would go off harmlessly and noiselessly but leave a visible trace in the air, allowing us to see if their aim was true.

Hitting them was still proving far more difficult to our crews than methinks I would have liked. Though there had been some improvement in the course of four separate drills, we had reached the point of diminishing returns: the performance of our gunners was most charitably described as passable, and I knew ‘twas not likely to improve any further before our likely battle. Our crew was tense and on edge, but perchance as Shady had sensed with me, doing the drills at least kept our minds occupied, preventing us from brooding too much about what might be happening… or would happen in the hours to come.

‘Twas just as well, methinks, given we’d already lost nearly forty crew to desertion out of the whole of the battle group, including a half-dozen pegasi from the Loyalty’s already-understrengthattack squadrons. ‘Twas certain my biggest fear was that a few leaving might inevitably lead to more, but thus far it hadn’t happened, though our intimidating air wing leader, Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight, perchance had a part in that with regard to her flyers.

After the first few desertions, she’d pulled all her squadrons into their large ready room and told them that any ponies who were even thinking about following them would answer to her; that she was fighting and would brook no cowardice—that she’d “come after them from Tartarus itself!” if she had to, and somehow, nopony doubted she could.

In theory, our century-and-a-half-sized air wing served two purposes: the first was to provide close defense against the swarming attacks of Gryphon or Harpy raiders, whilst the second was to be able to launch strikes against enemy air and ground forces ‘over the horizon’, giving the Navy of old a much longer reach than the Aerial Corps, and weapons to match the task. They were armed with not just wingblades but two wrist-mounted single-use crossbows the Corps disdained due to their limited range and accuracy, preloaded with armor-piercing or high-explosive bolts depending on the mission.

Though their efficacy was dubious against gryphon soldiers, whose crossbows out-ranged ours and were quickly reloadable given the manual dexterity of their talons, ‘twas my hope nonetheless that they would catch the Imperials off-guard and allow our air wing to get in a surprise first strike.

Phantom Flight’s words had had their effect; there’d been no further reports of desertions and she’d drilled her flyers hard in the meantime before sending them below to snag a few hours of sleep.

I doubted they would get any; a pass through the crew berths showed none of the racks were filled. As midnight came and went, I found myself on the airship’s topmost observation deck, looking out over the receding Celestial Sea, tinted a ruddy hue by the ominous blood-red moon. Though I could not see the mare in the moon as the Loyalty’s four large dirigible balloons were in the way, their flattened oval shapes concealing the sky above, I found myself praying to the lost Princess Luna to grant her former service her favor and that we would arrive at Epsilon in enough time for it to matter.

Turning back to the east where Epsilon lay, I was surprised to see a small area of very frequent lightning flashes coming from far over the horizon, just visible in the distance; once or twice I even saw a rare blue jet or reddish sprite if I squinted my eyes just right.

I wasn’t sure what it meant—though the weather was wild over Gryphon lands, it did not look like a naturally-occurring thunderstorm to me, being as intense and isolated as it was over the distant desert sands, and ‘twas coming from what I roughly calculated to be the direction of Epsilon.

Was it their doing? A last-ditch defense, mayhap? Had they decided to go out in a blaze of glory, making the storm in an attempt to take as many of the Gryphons with them as they could…?

I knew not the answer, only what I sensed or at least desperately hoped in my heart—that my daughter and her battalion were still alive and fighting, awaiting a rescue they were certain would never come.

Regardless of the answer, ‘twould take us another four hours to reach them on our current course, and storm or no, the odds of their lasting that long seemed remote at best. But there was nothing for it—the Captain’s orders were final, and as much as I hated to admit it, her logic was sound—if we tried to reach Epsilon directly, plowing right through the forward gryphon forces, we stood little chance of making it.

Sensing myself starting to worry and brood again, I decided to head back below, but a surprising sound caught my ear—laughter. Searching for its source, I found it on the other side of the observation deck, coming from three of our air wing pegasi. They were already dressed for battle in dark blue combat uniforms instead of their usual white day ones. They were nearly invisible in the darkness against their indigo fur dye, making them look like the thestrals that once populated the Royal Navy, their sheathed blades glinting with starlight on their backs. They were trading jokes, but also drinks from a rather large flask of some sort, causing my eyes to narrow and myself to decide to approach them.

Two were mares, one was a stallion, and ‘twas the higher-ranked latter who saw me first, his eyes going wide as he hurriedly hid the flask. “Attention on deck!” he shouted, causing heads to turn towards me, and then all three to suddenly come to rigid attention and salute. “G-Good evening, Commander…” he greeted me, somewhat nervously as I stalked up to them, looming over them with my larger size.

I recognized him as Lieutenant Junior Grade Shooting Star, 3rd squadron’s 1st flight leader. “You three are supposed to be sleeping below! What in Luna’s name are you doing out here?” I challenged them sternly.

They looked at each other before replying; ‘twas again the stallion who spoke up first. “We… can’t sleep, commander,” he admitted. “We tried; we just can’t.”

“I see…” I nodded my understanding. Orders or no, perchance ‘twas a bit much to ask the crew to simply turn off their minds and worries given that we were flying to war. “Very well, then, Lieutenant. What’s on your mind?” I asked, thinking that perchance I could ease their anxieties a bit even if ‘twas impossible for me to ease my own.

“Everything, sir,” Shooting Star replied in an upper-class Canterlot accent, his eyes going distant as he stared out to the east, his gaze fixed on the distant lightning.

“Life. Death. War. Our chances,” answered the first of his flight mares, Ensign Backing Wind, another glint of lightning in the far distance catching our collective eye. “We’re too anxious to sleep, sir. We know we could die in the next few hours.”

“And how are we supposed to sleep knowing that?” the other mare of his flight, Ensign Dawn Dreamer, asked me. “With respect, I don’t want to sleep, sir. If we are to die this night, methinks I want to savor every moment I still have left, awake and in the company of my friends.”

Though I’d been about to order them below, I relented—how could I not upon hearing such words? “’Tis a fine sentiment, methinks. And one that will serve you well. ‘Tis understandable to be anxious. But know that if you fight for each other as much as Equestria, be assured you will find your warrior heart,” I told them, repeating something Silent Night had said to me once.

I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing at that moment. Methinks I knew only too well that once she learned of the gryphon invasion, she’d probably return to active duty immediately; I’d be lucky to ever see her again if she rejoined the Lances.

“Warrior?” Shooting Star gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’m no warrior, sir. Methinks a warrior wouldn’t be shaking in his horseshoes, wishing he were anywhere else but here. Methinks a warrior would be hungry for battle instead of dreading it!” he said openly, visibly swallowing at the sight of the distant storm, and then went downcast. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just… methinks the truth is that though I may look the part, I’m just playing at soldier. The truth is that I’m scared out of my mind, sir. And ’tis certain I feel like such a coward.” He looked down in shame even as his flightmares stood closer to instinctively protect him.

“’Tis certain you aren’t,” I told him gently but firmly, putting a hoof on his chest. “The cowards are the ones who already fled. But you three didn’t. You stayed, and ‘tis to your great credit,” I reminded them all.

“But…” Shooting Star trailed off uncertainly.

“But nothing, Lieutenant,” I insisted. “Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s acting in spite of it. So I ask all of you now: Scared or no, are you prepared to fight this night?”

They exchanged a series of glances, then all nodded, if somewhat jerkily.

“Then that is all I ask,” I said, my heart warming at the sight even as it went out to them. They were scared—very scared—but were still ready and willing to do their duty even if it cost them their lives. “Tell me, Lieutenant… where are you from?”

He looked surprised at the question, perchance believing I already knew the answer. “Canterlot, sir.”

Which I in fact did, knowing full well he was the son of a minor noblepony, and as such would likely inherit his sire’s title one day. But the question was but a prelude to another one: “And why did you join the Navy?”

Shooting Star looked ashamed, but answered. “Well, sir… I joined the Royal Navy because I washed out of the Guard,” he admitted. “The Sergeant Major in charge of basic there told me I didn’t have what it takes, and he was right—I quit basic after a week.

“But I still wanted to wear a uniform. I still wanted to give my foals somepony to look up to whilst remaining reasonably close to Canterlot and able to see my herd frequently. And well...” He grimaced slightly, but still voiced his next thought. “That meant the Navy.”

I took no offense, knowing that was a very common story in Luna’s former service; far too many nobleponies chose service there so they could wear a uniform without the risk. “I see. And how about you, Ensign Backing Wind?”

She turned brooding, even angry at the question. “I grew up in Cloudsdale, sir, in a broken herd with a drunkard sire and a missing mother. And for it, methinks I wanted to leave in the worst possible way,” she said.

“’Twas nothing there for me but the most menial of weather work, and I did not wish to live my life with my head in the literal clouds. I wanted to serve, but given my lack of schooling and inability to hold a job, both the Corps and Cloudsdale militia rejected me. In the end, nopony but the Navy would accept me,” she recalled. “And I am grateful to it.”

I smiled in approval. “Then methinks you have something in common with our Captain, Ensign. And you, Dawn Dreamer?” I turned to the other flight mare.

“Me, sir?” She gave a nervous laugh. “Nothing but pie-in-the-sky fantasies of traveling on these airships, seeing the world from them. I was born and raised in Stalliongrad. I saw the airships there as a foal and liked them, sir. Enlisting meant I could stay near home but still see at least some of Equestria. And, well… nopony ever truly believed we would see combat.”

“’Tis true…” I nodded grimly. If Naval Battle Group Four had any military mission outside of being a testing ground for the weapons labs of Stalliongrad, ‘twas in fact to backstop the western frontier against the Harpy clans that lived in the rugged and rocky mountains past the plains that marked Equestria’s western border.

An arboreal and avian race who fancied themselves pirates and whose nation was most charitably described as a loose confederation of clans, the upright-walking and raptor-like Harpies were generally hostile to ponies and their more aggressive tribes occasionally mounted raids out of their mountain strongholds against our towns and villages there.

As they were but short range flyers, they tended to strike using small, sleek wooden airships of their own design and make called corsairs, launching hit-and-fly raids that, when well-planned, could be very hard for the Corps to counter.

Though inferior in flight to pegasi, they were not to be trifled with, having launched some successful—to say nothing of very bloody—raids on pony towns and farms in the past; retaliatory strikes into the mountains against them had oft gone poorly. Despite their limited numbers and resources, they were excellent shipbuilders in possession of blades and ballistae of their own; ‘twas the job of the Aerial Corps 3rd Division to keep them in check, defending the farms and villages of the western plains against them.

But the Harpies were not who we faced just then—the Gryphons were—though perchance if I’d given it more thought at the time, I might have considered whether our sudden departure from Stalliongrad would embolden them. “Then tell me, all of you… why are you still here?” I asked them point-blank. “Why have you chosen to stay and fight when you could far more simply and safely dive off the side of the ship and nopony would ever find you?

Shooting Star looked ashamed. “Believe me, ‘tis certain I thought about it, sir. And ‘tis certain I still do!” he admitted with fresh shame though Backing Wind just scoffed at the notion—of the three she seemed the most ready and eager to fight. “But ‘tis also certain I won’t.”

“And why not?” I challenged. I was trying to steel him, but also genuinely curious as well.

“Aside from the fact that ‘tis certain Phantom Flight or Backing Wind here would kill me in place of the Gryphons?” He managed a weak chuckle as the other mare smiled. Then he exhaled hard and forced his eyes up to meet mine.

“Because methinks I could never look at myself in the mirror again if I did, sir. Because even if we won the war and Equestria survived the invasion, I could never look my own son and daughters in the eye if I did. Because far better ponies than me are out there right now, fighting and dying!” He pointed with a hoof at the lightning flashes far over the horizon. And ‘twas it my imagination, or were they starting to slacken?

“At least if I fall here, I do something I always dreamed of—served a greater good. Perchance then I can at least rest in peace knowing I did my duty—that I overcame my fears and fought to defend my foals and all I held dear. And perchance my foals will know that I died the soldier and warrior they fancy me to be, and remember me well.”

“Well said,” I granted, but kept to myself the thought that if we fell on the frontier this night, none might know our names or our fate. “And what of you, Backing Wind?”

“Me? Live or die, I’m ready and eager to fight, sir!” she announced, deploying her wingblades for emphasis. “Methinks I got in enough brawls back at Cloudsdale growing up to know fighting was for me—in truth, ‘twas the only thing I was ever good at. I originally wanted to join the Corps to fight, so as far as I’m concerned? I couldn’t be happier. Methinks I’m finally fulfilling my purpose!” she proclaimed. “And if I can fight with my friends at my side, helping them through it? ‘Tis so much the better!”

I grinned, happy to see it—happy to see there was at least one pegasus from our air wing with her attitude outside of their commander. Fear was contagious but so was courage; ‘twas certain that even a few like her and Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight would go a long way towards steeling spines amongst our crew.

“‘Tis heartening to hear. And you, Dawn Dreamer?”

She sighed and looked down at the deck for a moment. “I don’t want to die any more than they do. I’m fighting because they’re fighting, sir. Because they’re my friends and ‘tis certain I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned them now.”

I smiled and nodded. “Then ‘tis certain to me you will all do well when the time comes. If you fight for each other as much as Equestria, then ‘tis certain you will find your soldier’s spirit,” I promised them again, but then my expression went dark. “But before that… perchance you wouldst explain what was in that flask I saw?” I asked Shooting Star, my expression and voice turning stern.

He all but cringed, but he brought it out; a large and ornate copper flask with a cork top that looked like it had been obtained from Canterlot at some point. “’Tis filled with Lunar Moonshine, sir. Direct from the ship’s still.”

“I see,” I nodded gravely even as I suppressed another smile, then held out my hoof for it. Shady and I had heard rumors that such a still existed. But we’d never been able to find it despite repeated inspections; we suspected Flash Fix had a hoof in concealing it. “Give it here.”

“Aye, sir…” Reluctantly, Shooting Star passed it over, only to be shocked when I uncorked it, took a sniff… and then took a very long draw of it.

“Thank you,” I told him, returning it, feeling its bite and warmth immediately; though no connoisseur of such spirits, ‘twas surprisingly strong and I judged it of good quality. “I needed that.”

“Uh… our pleasure, sir.” The Lieutenant exchanged startled glances with the two ensigns.

“You’re welcome. But by my orders, you each get one additional drink of it but no more. You are all to be fully sober again by 0200,” I warned them, awaiting their nods. “After that, there is an increasing chance of enemy engagement even before we reach Epsilon, so your wits must be as sharp as your blades. General Quarters will sound then, so be ready.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” they chorused and all saluted me in new respect.

“Bully. And Lieutenant…?” I said after I returned the salutes.

“Yes sir?”

This time, he was surprised when I came to attention and saluted him! “Know that I admire your courage and determination. Know that I would much rather have a soldier who admits his fears but fights in spite of them than one who spouts mindless bravado and pretends to be something he is not. So my final orders to you are this: Fight hard and come back alive. Methinks we will need more ponies willing to fight, not less. And when this is over, methinks naval combat veterans such as you and your flight will be worth their weight in gems.”

“Aye-aye, sir…” he replied, and though surprised again, returned my gesture promptly along with his mares.

Though I did not show it at the time, this one encounter greatly affected me, both that night and going forward.

The pegasi of Shooting Star’s flight couldn’t have been more different, both in terms of how they arrived in the Navy and why they were still there; why they had not fled even facing a fight they they never dreamt would come.

A fight they sensed was likely to kill them.

But despite that, there they were, ready and willing to do their duty. Scared, but there, not for me or for Epsilon, not for the Navy or even for Equestria itself, but ultimately? For each other. For their friends and families. So they could stand tall and face themselves afterwards, or at least fall knowing that they tried to act as the soldiers they were supposed to be.

What would become of them, I did not know, any more than I know now what will become of me in the next few hours. Will the surgery succeed, or will it fail, leaving me only further crippled? Or worse, accidentally kill me? Am I making a terrible mistake and sacrificing all my remaining years for a futile dream of flight? I know not the answers, but I do know the risks. And now alone with dawn breaking and my fears trying to consume me, I find my thoughts casting back to those three ponies atop the observation deck whilst on our approach to Outpost Epsilon.

The healers are entering to prepare me now, so I must end this accounting here. I can only pray to Luna and the Moon Goddess herself that I can yet summon at least some small semblance of the same bravery they did that night, embracing their fate and the trials to come with devotion to duty and a desire to, if not survive, then at least prove their courage in the face of death.

—Admiral Tailwind

Your words are as powerful as they are poignant, father.

I wish now I had been able to read this before he entered, so that I and all present could assure him that nopony would ever question his courage. For all the battles he fought and the role he played in not just the war but the years that followed, he more than earned his command, succeeding in turning the Royal Navy into a service worthy of Luna once more. I likewise pray for him; death remains a distinct possibility for such experimental surgery in one of his advanced age, both in its course and after.

‘Tis a sentiment we all share—myself, Gavian, Fell Flight, Blindside and Swift Strike are all present as well as a score of the Epsilon veterans who survived not just that night, but the entirety of the war to come.

The gryphons, too, sent a representative; Tribune Bena Jale of the Kingdom’s Navy was present to offer her well-wishes and the use of the Kingdom’s healers, as their mages learned a few things about healing wounded wings and speeding recovery we did not over the course of the war. At least one Gryphon mage is participating in the procedure, and I am grateful for his presence.

As such, it strikes me now that the war was useful in other ways—the science of medicine advanced sharply because of it, and post-war collaboration between the two sides is what made this procedure possible.

‘Twill be my final word on this chapter, as my father will—we hope—be emerging from surgery soon. I pray for his survival and speedy recovery, as well as to one day fly alongside him as I have never been able to before.

—Firefly

Greetings again to all my little ponies. As Firefly and her comrades remain ensconced at Polaris Base to be there for Admiral Tailwind, I will pick up the quill in their absence.

Let me begin by thanking you for sharing, this, Captain. I, too, find the Admiral's recounting of a single pre-battle talk remarkable, especially considering the circumstances. ‘Tis an account of the desperate courage and devotion to duty that so many of my little ponies showed that day, even those that never expected they would be called upon to fight; one that still brings tears to my eyes to read. My thoughts and prayers go with your father as well, and I will honor him with a royal visit as soon as possible, offering up my own power to assist his recovery.

Unfortunately, as the first day of war concluded, I found myself in a trap of both fiendishly clever and very callous design, pinned in Canterlot and unable to do more than defend it. But defend it I would, and find a way to direct my forces from within it. Communications were difficult at that point, relying on exceptionally quick and courageous pegasi evading incineration, as ‘tis certain was a planned side effect of the dragon siege. But Admiral Tailwind’s predecessor found a way around that, and ‘twas to her immense credit that she did so.

Signed,

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria

Eye of the Storm

As night fell over my nation, I raised the moon in my sister’s place, imparting it a blood-red hue.

‘Twas my sister’s tradition, and one I felt best observed, both to honor her and to let all my little ponies know that Equestria was indeed at war. My aides were already drafting a formal war declaration to be ratified by the High Council and signed at dawn the next day, but until then, there was little I could do except try to reassure the citizens of my capital city that they were safe.

At least for the foreseeable future, that was. Despite my predicament, despite being cut off from sunlight and having to expend energy to sustain the magical shield that protected all of Canterlot from the wrath of the Kalator dragon clan, the cost was not yet high enough to immobilize me entirely, and ‘twouldn’t be for some months.

Thus, whilst I was afforded the time to do so, I took the liberty of traveling the city proper in full battle armor and reassuring the citizenry that, even whilst we were at war, Canterlot was under no threat so long as I was here.

‘Twas with some regret and perchance a measure of disgust that I noted that several of the ‘upper crust’ of Canterlot’s nobility seemed far too relieved at this news; the implication that other parts of Equestria were not under my protection and at the mercy of the dragons seemingly escaping them.

The merchants, guards, and other such ‘working-class’ ponies, on the other hoof, expressed far more concern; many of them had family and friends outside the capital, both in the military and out. Still, ‘twas naught I could do but offer platitudes and assurances that everything would work out in the end…

I said it even though I wasn’t sure I believed it, remembering Kalator’s taunts that I would be lying to them by doing so.

But I knew better than to let doubt or weakness show. I had spent the better part of the first day of the war tying to keep Canterlot calm, dispatching the Armored Guard and PSD into the streets to keep the peace. The latter I ordered into uniform—though some insisted on wearing full body suits and hoods to hide their identities so they could resume their undercover maid and servant roles later—as we needed a show of force and their numbers could help soothe nerves as well as quell any inclination to loot or riot.

I had already come down hard on a couple crowds that appeared ready to do so, slapping the ringleaders in irons and dressing down the ponies who were thinking about joining them personally.

The task done and the streets of Canterlot more or less secure—as far as we could tell, there were no more sleeper agents; the wave of assassinations that had marked the morning had ceased—I returned to the palace gardens for some well-earned peace and quiet.

Finally alone for the first time all day, I mulled over what to do in our current situation. Without my personal support, my forces on the Gryphon frontier were more than likely overrun at this point by the massive Imperial invasion, or close to it. I could see Outpost Gamma still standing, if perchance under heavy siege, but the rest…

My thoughts were interrupted by a splash from the central fountain, heralding the arrival of a sea-green pegasus emerging from it. To my surprise, Admiral Coral Torch, overall commander of the Royal Navy, shook herself free of excess water as she stepped out of the fountain entirely, not caring in the least that her uniform, which was hardly designed for underwater work, was wrinkled and wet. She looked, to put it lightly, annoyed.

“Methinks that foalhardy idiot is going to get herself killed and her ships destroyed, and for what? A chance to rescue her second-in-command’s daughter?!” she said derisively, not immediately noticing me.

I arched an eyebrow at this. “Perchance you could explain what has you out of sorts, Admiral?” I asked mildly, causing her to jump slightly; she apparently had been so preoccupied she hadn’t even noticed me. "Further, perchance you could explain why you decided to go for a swim in my palace fountain?”

“My Princess!”She gasped and struck a hasty bow, dripping some stray water onto the grass. “M-my apologies, I wasn’t aware you’d return quite so quickly!”

My other eyebrow joined its sister’s elevation. “Quickly? Admiral, methinks I have spent the last sixteen hours making sure a riot doesn’t break out in the city. And just what have you been doing that took up that much time?” I noticed then she wore a waterproof pair of saddlebags, one of which sagged more than the other. “Does it have to do with what’s in the bag?”

Coral Torch looked chagrined briefly. “It does, My Princess. Perchance you wouldst recall that some years back, I did a favor for Queen Novo?”

At the mention of the hippogryph queen, I nodded with a smile. “Yes… and that favor earned you not just her gratitude, but the Admiralty itself, given how much you did to cement relations between Equestria and the hippogryph nation,” I noted, hoping that ‘twould yet be possible to contact their Queen and enlist her aid in our struggle.

The hippogryphs were a maritime power more than an army one, but their skills and soldiers—to say nothing of their ability to shift forms from sea creature to air one at will—could be of great use to us.

“Well, she thanked me with a pair of hippogryph artifacts,” she continued, indicating her earrings. “The first allows me to breathe underwater, and move through it freely as though it were air.” She indicated her saddlebag.

“The second is a scrying mirror that functions underwater and is compatible with the more advanced communications crystals on some of our airships. Experimentation by the Office of Magical Research shows that its range is much greater than that of our normal communication methods, save for dragonfire messages.

“Using the mirror, I was able to establish contact with the Naval base at Stalliongrad, attempting to warn them of a possible gryphon raid. On that score, at least, I am relieved to report there was none."

I nodded in approval. “Truly? That’s very good news, Admiral—it not only means that out battle group at Stalliongrad survives, but that we now have a way around dragon interference and can fully reestablish our chain of command! So why, then, do you seem so out of sorts?”

She shook her head. “Well, what should I learn upon contacting them, but that the battle group was no longer there—that Captain Shady of the Loyalty had taken it upon herself to order Battle Group Four to the frontier!” she said in utter disbelief.

”’Twould seem she’s heading for Aerial Corps Outpost Epsilon to rescue the Corps battalion stationed there. I have reason to believe she’s doing this at the behest of her second-in-command, Tailwind, whose daughter is the commander of that base!” she concluded in disgust.

That gave me some pause as well. On the face of it, sending three airships to rescue one Corps battalion made no sense. And yet… “By daughter, you’re referring to Master Sergeant Firefly of the Royal Guard?” I asked.

“Exactly!” the admiral nodded. “Captain Shady’s actions are incomprehensible to me, My Princess—she had no orders and no superior present, but she didn’t care! She set out on her own for the Outpost! So once I learned of this, I immediately contacted the Loyalty, ordering Shady to change course to Naval Base Ursa, but she refused! Disobeyed a direct order, My Princess! She’s guilty of dereliction of duty, abandoning her post, and assumption of authority beyond her rank! If she somehow makes it back to Ursa in one piece, I intend to bust her flank back down to recruit, if not drum her out of the service entirely!” As she spoke, her face grew more and more red from her anger, but when she finished, she sucked in several breaths to calm down.

As she did so, I pondered this. Demotion was, in this instance, the least Coral Torch could do to Shady, given the charges against the captain; I knew well what my sister would have done to those in her service who disobeyed her direct orders. And yet… as I turned over the Admiral’s report in my head, I realized ‘twas not as cut and dry as she stated. I then found my thoughts turning back several centuries, to a day long before Luna’s fall. And for perchance the first time that day since I’d been rousted to be told of a gryphon invasion, I smiled.

“Tell me, Admiral,” I said as I stood up and started to walk around the gardens; she followed quickly, falling in beside me. “Do you know of the Sun Master?”

Coral Torch blinked at the seeming non sequitur, but answered nonetheless. “Of course, My Princess. He was the greatest military strategist in Equestria’s history. His book, The Art Of War, redefined Equestrian military doctrine. ’Tis required reading at the Equestrian Officer Academy!”

“'Tis indeed, and quite rightly. But there is much about him that is not known. So let me tell you a story of him, Admiral,” I said. “Shortly after his book was published, he and I had occasion to travel to Saddle Arabia on a diplomatic visit. The local sultan who was hosting us happened to have read the Sun Master’s work. He said he found it of questionable merit, and thus asked the Sun Master if he would be willing to demonstrate his tactics… using mares from his own harem, who had never touched weapons in their lives.

“‘Methinks if your methods are truly as good as you claim, then you should be able to make even these mares, who even I have enough trouble keeping in line, do what you wish,’ was what he said, if in the Saddle Arabian tongue.

“To his surprise, the Sun Master agreed to the challenge, on the condition that he be allowed to resort to minor military discipline were he not obeyed. So the mares were assembled in the palace courtyard and given weapons. The two mares the sultan favored the most were made officers. The Sun Master explained the instructions he was going to give them; they were basic military parade directions. When he was done explaining, he asked them if they understood the directions they’d been given, and they replied in the affirmative. Then he gave an order… and they laughed at him.”

Coral Torch snorted. “Foals. Even if they were harem mares, they should have respected his rank and authority.”

I nodded. “So I thought as well. But the Sun Master merely said this: ‘If words of command are not clear, if orders are indistinct, the general is at fault.’ “

I paused before I went on to let the words sink in. “So he then explained the directions again. Again he asked if they understood, and again they said yes. He gave the order again, but again they laughed. And this time, he said this:

‘If orders are clear and distinct, but the soldiers disobey nonetheless, the officers are at fault.’ And as, by his own methods, he found the appointed officers at fault, he ordered both of them, the sultan’s favorite mares, flogged and thrown into the dungeon.”

The admiral blinked. “That… seems rather disproportionate, for a mere demonstration, My Princess,” she said carefully. “I thought you said he was allowed ‘minor military discipline’ only.”

“’Twas a different time and place, Admiral. And believe me when I say it was minor, considering what other punishments existed in that day.” I closed my eyes at the memories of some of the things I’d witnessed back then; things I hadn’t even blinked at that would appall me now. “Nevertheless, the Sultan thought so as well.

“He immediately told the Sun Master that no further demonstration was required, and that he did not wish to see his favorite mares punished in such a way. In response, the Sun Master gave his third maxim of the day:

“‘Having been placed in the capacity of commander by the sovereign, there are some orders which, in said capacity, I cannot accept should they contravene my sworn duty,’he said. The two mares were then flogged for their disobedience in front of the others, and then thrown into the dungeon for a day as per his orders.

“Once their punishment was complete, two other mares were then appointed from the rest of the harem in their places. And this time, when the Sun Master gave his orders for the drills, the remaining mares obeyed without hesitation and even executed his instructions quite well. Thus, he won the challenge, and with it, great respect.”

Coral Torch was not appointed Admiral of the Navy for being slow on the uptake; I could see that she understood what I was implying. “Your point is well-made, My Princess. You are saying that having exercised her own lawful authority that her sovereign—meaning myself—had granted, Captain Shady could not accept my countermand, as it would go against what she perceived as her sworn duty,” the Admiral said heavily, perchance recalling the Captain’s words to her in a new light.

“But with respect, My Princess, I would point out that there is a significant difference between a military parade put on for a foreign power, and taking three airships into the front lines against orders!”

I shook my head. “To the Sun Master, there would have been little difference, Admiral. Captain Shady clearly felt that she was making the best decision she could in the absence of orders or a superior who could give them, and then refused orders that countermanded her decision when she was nearing her goal. She has made a very bold move, and regardless of her reasons—based on what I know of her, methinks it highly unlikely she did it for the sake of his second’s daughter alone—she deserves respect for them.

“Were the Sun Master here now, he would say that ‘twould do more damage to morale to recall her than to let her continue. That win or lose, the effort alone could pay great dividends in fighting spirit for not just the Navy but all of Equestria. And as I think about it now, I cannot but agree. In truth, should she succeed or fail in rescuing Epsilon’s garrison, ‘tis my intention to reward and honor Captain Shady for the effort just as my sister would once have done.” I said with a glance up at the sky, where I knew my sister’s hidden face stared down from above the level of the smoky pall the dragons had laid over us. “You may be assured that Luna herself would have agreed and approved of her decision.”

“Luna herself?” the Admiral looked both surprised and intrigued at her mention. “Truly?”

“Truly,” I confirmed, finding myself missing her more than ever, knowing that were she present now, the war would be over quickly. With two alicorns present, I could defend Canterlot whilst Luna could wipe out the gryphons, and then we could turn our combined power plus that of the entire Equestrian military on the dragons. “Luna appreciated officers with initiative, Admiral. She valued two things above all else—long-term loyalty to her crown and her service, and great daring amongst her commanders and warriors.

“‘Tis certain she would not brook having her orders broken, but in the absence of them—which Shady was—nor would she punish an aggressive officer who sought to take the battle to the enemy, gaining glory for the Navy—and her—in the process,” I concluded, then stopped and turned towards Coral Torch, waiting until she had met my gaze. “I ask that you keep that in mind if and when Captain Shady returns.”

The Admiral sighed, knowing she had lost this debate. “As you say, My Princess. Still, I can’t simply let her go without punishment. She must at least face an inquiry and be severely censured for disobeying a direct order, effective upon her return from Epsilon.”

"That is acceptable," I agreed, knowing that if Shady wasn't punished at all, ‘twould set a bad precedent for the remainder of the conflict. “But let the inquiry be a fair one, Admiral, and should she succeed in her task, decorate her and the ships of the battle group,” I told her.

“For the Navy and the nation needs new heroes, and perchance her actions this night will create them.”

As I complete this section, I am told by Captain Firefly that Admiral Tailwind has come out of twelve straight hours of surgery, taxing him and his healers alike. He is unconscious and will not awake before morning; ‘tis too soon to know if it worked or there will be any… ill aftereffects of an extended period of sedation and a highly experimental operation. But my heart goes out to him, and I will shortly depart to see him, once the healers say he may receive visitors.

If I ask anything of all my little ponies, ‘tis simply this: consider what courage truly is, and what it takes to act in the face of one’s fears, particularly knowing that to act may well mean one’s death.

And consider that those who found their courage rarely did so for princess and province so much as a desire to stand by their friends and live up to the expectations of their loved ones.

—Princess Celestia

“Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory:
1. He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.
2. He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.
3. He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
4. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
5. He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign.”

—Sun Tzu

Author's Note

Welcome back to the story!

Inspiration from this chapter was drawn from multiple sources, not the least of which was Leo Archon’s writing. He wrote a large chunk of the trailing section, and in fact gave me the idea for a way I could play off it in the initial one. What’s remarkable is he wrote it without ever seeing the MLP movie, relying on descriptions of Queen Novo and the Hippogryphs from the rest of us; the latter are my favorite race from the movie and season 8.

Tailwind’s reaction to surgery is very strongly echoing my own, five years ago when I went under the knife for my jaw advancement. That was a ten-hour procedure and I had no idea going into it if it would work; there were any number of things that could have gone wrong and I had plenty of worries about doing it. But I was willing to risk it and the long recovery that would follow (involving eating out of a blender for two months) if it would mean simply being able to sleep again.

Additional inspiration was found in the MLP movie for the Harpies--for those who have not read my earlier blog; I’ve decided to make the Harpies the avian pirate race we saw there--and in Star Trek for the initial musical selection, as chosen by AJ_Aficionado.

Credit goes to him, to Denim_Blue, and to Silentwoodfire for the rapid prereads on this chapter, enabling me to launch it now. After this comes the battle itself, and once we start, we don’t let up until it concludes. You may think you know how it ends, but trust me--you don’t.

The War Begins: 15 - Cavern Clash

To the readers:

After a grueling twelve hours, two more than was planned, my father has emerged from surgery, and now we must simply wait. First for him to wake up, and far longer than that to see if the experimental procedure, one borne of pony and gryphon collaboration, worked. ‘Complications’ were encountered, we were told, though we were just as quickly assured that they were overcome and ‘all should be well’.

Unfortunately, being the soldiers that we are, we know how far such assurances can go—that there are no guarantees in life, and how quickly things can turn. His age remains a concern, as does the simple fact ‘tis not yet known what deleterious effects such an untried magical technique may have. And now, as was the worst part of far too many days during the war, we are in a waiting game, anticipating and dreading what may come.

‘Tis a helpless feeling made even worse for knowing there is little we can do except be here and offer up our hopes and prayers. So for now, just as my father distracted himself from his fears and worries by writing his recollections of that first night of war, I will do so as well, detailing the climactic Battle of Epsilon.

I would normally not think of writing about battle, especially this battle as anything approaching relaxing, but ‘twill at least occupy my mind and with many Epsilon survivors present this day, ‘twould be something that we can all contribute to. As such, the quill will be passed around quite frequently for this chapter, as many wish to offer up their recollections.

—Firefly

When Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt had first proposed his plan to counter the coming Imperial attack by bringing a superstorm down on our own base, Snow Squall had called it crazy. And I admit, as our surprising Harmony-fueled song ended and our newly created tempest readied to break in all its fury right on top of our collective heads, its increasingly violent winds and crackling lightning already threatening to tear both sides to shreds, methinks I was given serious cause to wonder if he was right.

Nevertheless, I knew what was coming and was prepared to meet it, and with it, our fates. What I was not prepared for, however, was the sudden word that the initial gryphon assault was coming not from above, but below, as the healer teams who had set up shop in our vacated storm cloud vault shouted into the communication gems that diamond dogs had broken into the large cavern and they were under attack.

With a millennium of gryphon soldiers charging in from all sides, there was little we could do to assist, and I suddenly feared for the safety of not just our healers but our wounded and Gavian.

But if they were surprised, so were the gryphons, having not expected to find anything there but a massive but half-full underground vault of storm clouds. So to describe this part of the battle, I offer the quill to perchance the most modest and unassuming stallion I’ve ever known.

A stallion who, even well into his 60s, is also the absolute last pony you wouldst ever wish to engage in mortal combat with.

Thank you, Captain. And greetings to all readers as I contribute to this tale for only the second time in as many books.

‘Tis not that I have had little to offer, ‘tis simply that old habits die hard—much like the Ravens we so oft fought, the Lances do not speak of operations past, even long past. The only reason I feel able to offer my recollections in this instance ‘tis simply because the Battles for Epsilon are a matter of public record, not special operations that must never see the light of day.

I am Swift Strike, founding Bolt Knight member and one of the few ponies publicly acknowledged to have been a Black Lance. In this, methinks I am in some ways the lucky one; so many of my brothers and sisters who died in the war—or even before it—remain unsung and unremembered; their names and service records unknown except at the secret Lance monument and memorial whose location I will never divulge.

Their voices and faces live on in the hearts and memories of their comrades, however, and as I begin writing, I am reminded of the old Black Lance motto: “The only easy day was yesterday.”

In this instance, and in so much of this war, the only easy fight was the previous one.

—Sergeant Major Swift Strike (ret.)
Headmaster, Foxford University
Trottingham

Before we describe the events to come, I wish it known that I did not participate in either of the first two battles at Epsilon.

‘Twas simply by my choice and the commander’s orders to stay behind, defending Gavian and the infirmary; protecting the healers as they did their alternately lifesaving and lethal work. Though I am quite capable of aerial combat, ‘tis certain my greatest battle gifts are in close quarters, making me the ideal bodyguard and defender of critical points.

With regards to Gavian, if the commander was his mother, then I, in some strange way, had become his father for all the time I spent teaching and training him. ‘Twas my tutelage that enabled him to develop a hybrid combat style; one based on agility and quickness that would work well with his smaller gryphon build.

Though perchance I misspeak. He came up with that style more than me; I simply gave him a few pointers and a sparring partner who could instantly show him what to correct.

Methinks you do misspeak, mentor—you were my inspiration and teacher in so many ways that I cannot even begin to thank you for all you did for me. You taught me how to be a warrior when my own parents and nation cast me aside because they thought I could never be, and for it, I revere you as the father I never had.

–Gavian

Thank you for saying so, Gavian, but no amount of training or teaching would have helped hadst you not been willing to listen and learn; to put in all the time and practice it took. I am honored by your naming me the Patrinus of your new daughter and look forward to teaching her combat when the time comes.

But before the tale of the battle begins, there is a minor story I wish to relate first. ‘Tis with regret and with at least some trepidation that I must report, Captain, that I have kept a secret from you all these years. Perchance you may recall that I told you after the battle that our two Raven captives broke free of their cells and escaped just before the storm struck?

With sincerest apologies, ‘twas all a lie, as the story I now relate will show.

Mortal Enemies

Outpost Epsilon
Prisoner Holding Cells
September 1st, 1139 AC
2355 hours

As our midnight deadline for surrender approached, I did not participate in the creation of the superstorm except to help fling clouds out of the vault for other pegasi to use.

I could not participate, undrilled in it as I was. As my original posting to Epsilon had been as Black Lance Liaison, I was given the cover of Corporal Zephyr Sparrow, 5th Division logistics specialist—a noncombatant—and thus I did not take part in combat drills, except to teach Gavian and my future Captain my blade arts behind closed doors.

My identity as a Lance was not revealed until the evening before the war began, when we cornered two Ravens attempting to slay a changeling spy. The latter sacrificed herself to warn us of the Imperial invasion, delivering to us stolen war plans in hopes of protecting the nation and race that was their greatest source of sustenance.

The Ravens recognized me, stating openly my true name and rank; I was able to convince them to surrender given the skill and numbers of the soldiers they faced. But ‘twas little point after in keeping up the ruse of Corporal Zephyr, given I knew how quickly word of my true identity would spread through the ranks.

Now wearing my Sky Sergeant stripes and a standard Corps wingblade harness in addition to my Lance gems and throwing blades, my first order of business once the vault was empty was to see to our two Raven captives, who were manacled and to be kept in the vacated cavern as possible bargaining chips along with the few Talons we had taken alive. The latter could not escape anyway since most were too badly wounded to fight or flee, but the former…

Their expressions were sullen, and they glared at me as I approached their holding cells. Second Spear Indra Ramah and Centurion Palidor Quetzali; two elite sky gryphon Ravens who, like the Lances, ranked among the deadliest warriors of shadow either side could produce. I had been thinking long and hard about what to do with them, and I wish it known, Captain, that the decision I reached was mine and mine alone.

In any event, there was little time to consider such things—like all pegasi, I could feel the electric charge building in the air along with picking up a faint scent of ozone; the kind that proceeds a powerful storm. To leave them there would be to let them die, and though I had engaged and even slain Ravens in battle on several occasions, oft barely escaping with my life, ‘twould be a lie to say I did not respect them. Nor did I wish them to die so helplessly and ignominiously here.

Thus, whilst the storm was still being built and the non-pegasi members of the Epsilon garrison were helping move the healers as well as all their equipment and patients into the emptying cavern, I headed for the holding cells under orders to move them.

I unlocked the door, nodded to them… and then released their restraints with a click of a gem on my belt, causing their manacles to fall free. They looked at me in some shock as I stepped back and relaxed my stance except for my flared wings with deployed wingblades, making clear any attempt to attack me for my charity would be met swiftly and lethally. Methinks they knew my service record as well as my name, and thus, they were only too aware that they stood no chance against me unarmed.

“You two are free to leave. And I suggest you do so immediately. If you’ll look up, you’ll notice we are building a superstorm. Our intention is to bring it down on our own base when the Empire attacks at midnight,” I informed them both blandly, causing the pair to go very pale as they looked up to see the increasingly roiling cloud base overhead and felt the breeze pick up.

“Our chances of survival are nil, so by my own choice, I am letting you go. You will have a very small window to escape between when we finish the storm and when it breaks, so I suggest you make a dash for the canyon wall and then dive for the inner gorge. Follow it upstream and take refuge in a sheltered cliff until the storm is spent. With as much chaos as it will cause, methinks you should be able to slip away unseen. And after that...?”

I smiled thinly, waiting for several seconds to let the weight of my words sink in. “And after that, I suggest you head into the northern wilderness, away from Equestria and the Empire. Wait some weeks before making your way back across the Celestial Straits, and then start a new life with new identities somewhere secluded in Aresia. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble blending in. Should we somehow survive this night, I will report that you were slain in the storm.”

The pair glanced at each other before turning back to me, their expressions wary. “And just why are you doing this, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike?” the eagless named Indra Ramuh asked in Equish with open suspicion, sitting back and rubbing her released wrists. “Why not just leave us here to die?”

“Call it professional courtesy,” I repeated my earlier words to them I’d used to induce their surrender, the first rumble of thunder overhead providing an ominous backdrop to my words. “Or if you prefer, a reward for acting honorably earlier; for taking pains to not kill our soldiers.

“Once war broke out, we were to hold you as potential bargaining chips, but as ‘twould seem our final stand approaches, I see no chance of that now. I am also well aware of what awaits should you return to your masters in failure, so I trust you both to not fight, but simply disappear.”

The two deflated slightly. Having failed in their mission to stop the changeling spy they were chasing and recover her stolen war plans, and having surrendered rather than fought to the death, they knew full well that disgrace and execution was all that awaited them from the Empire now. Doubly so given their failure had forced the Empire to launch their invasion prematurely.

They considered my words and looked around, then up at the growing and growling storm again, recognizing they had but perchance a minute left before it broke.

“Very well, Lance. You win,” Palidor Quetzali told me somewhat grudgingly after a glance and nod exchanged with his comrade. “We will do as you say, and we give you our word that we will stay out of this fight. We cannot wish you luck, but if, by some unlikely event, we meet again? Be assured that your ‘courtesy’ will be remembered.”

“That is all I ask,” I acknowledged, and then returned to them the farmer vests they’d been originally captured in so they could pass as civilians again. I next tossed them each a pair of short blades off my own weapons belt; though surprised, they plucked them right out of the air. “The northern wastes are dangerous and I would not wish you to face them unarmed. So take these and be well.”

The two looked at each other again, then back to me. I had little fear they would turn on me at that point, and indeed, they did not, stashing the blades inside their vests and looking upon me with new respect. They then came to attention and saluted me in the gryphon manner as one, and I returned the gesture crisply before leaving them to make their escape, heading back for the vacated storm cloud vault.

I never saw them again and I knew not their fates, until well after the war when I received a surprise package with no return address. ‘Twas one of the first deliveries of the newly established Gryphon Express, who had recently begun overseas mail service from the new Kingdom to Equestria. In it… were two of the four blades I had given them, each well-worn.

A letter accompanying them said they had not only survived, but they had made a new life away from war and killing, the exact location and nature of which I will keep secret except to say their new profession was strangely fitting, and that they became husband and wife. They thanked me again for keeping their survival a secret and enabling their escape, adding that they hoped to visit me one day.

They eventually did, and I have been in constant correspondence with them since. Under any other circumstances, ‘tis certain I would have taken their secret to my grave. I only reveal this now because, upon learning of this account’s writing, they wrote me again to directly request I reveal how and why they lived.

They did not say why except to state that they wished to show by example that former warriors—even former assassins—can find peace and new purpose. That in the words of Indra Ramah herself, that “honor offered can be realized and repaid, even far into the future.”

I do so gladly to show not just the gryphon side but the pony one that there is indeed honor amongst even the deadliest of former adversaries, and that friendships can form even from the bitterest of foes.

Well, Sergeant Major… ‘tis certain this is indeed a surprise! At the time, I didn’t question your report of their escape given we had a great deal else to worry about, though I did at least briefly wonder why you were so insistent to me that I tell everyone they were dead. Methinks I might be more annoyed, but ‘twas an act of mercy and mutual respect I can certainly appreciate. Shows of honor like this became only too rare the deeper we got into the war, but some could still be found. Here at the start at least, ‘twould seem honor was offered by both sides in some small and large ways.

—Firefly

Speak for yourself, Captain. You know my feelings towards the Ravens, and learning that these two survived is, to me, a point of great disgust. Perchance I can understand why you didst this, Swift Strike, but had it been me? Even not yet knowing the full story of what had happened at Cloudsdale, methinks I would have gladly let them perish!

—Fell Flight

Methinks I am with her on this one, Swift Strike. Having lost two good friends to the Ravens in their earlier attempt to assassinate Gavian, my grudge against them remains. I find little honorable about them or their line of work, and I find it a great pity to know they did not die that night.

—Aves Osprey

With apologies to you both, ‘twas part of the reason I kept it secret, even from the commander. Yes, I know your feelings on the matter well, but having fought them several times as well as parlayed with them on covert operations at least twice, I respect the Ravens as peers, and have even worked with them on more than one occasion after the war. As these two had nothing to do with either event, methinks ‘twould not be right to hold them accountable for the actions of others. As I believe ‘twas a lesson you yourself once had to learn, Colonel Osprey?

—Swift Strike

Please, dear friends. I do not wish what is supposed to be a time of unity and remembrance to descend into rancor. I understand your strong feelings, and know your pain in turn, but I believe I must side with my mentor, not for that but because I agree guilt by association is never right. Besides, unlike the first group, these two took pains not to kill, and thus earned the honor they were given. If I may now offer up my own recollections on the cavern battle, Mother? ‘Twas my first time in combat, and for it, methinks ‘tis time I contribute to this tale myself.

—Gavian Ravenoff

Thank you, Gavian. And by all means. The exchange you just read, dear readers, was the paraphrasing of a rather heated argument that erupted following the revealing of Swift Strike’s secret. Perchance the lesson here is that grudges and pains remain, even this long after the war, and that old wounds can still all too easily be reopened. Fear not; our friendships and bonds are strong enough to survive such things, and spirited debates are hardly unusual amongst us even to this day. But to turn the page on it, I invite my son now to begin the story of the climactic battle in earnest, starting with the action in the underground vault.

—Firefly

Thank you, Mother. As I reflect back on that great and terrible night, on all the myriad emotions I experienced along with everypony else, I cannot help but recall those who fought and fell that day, on both sides. Whether pony or gryphon, mage or healer, Talon or Corps, Guardspony or Knight, we fought bravely and desperately for our respective sides. ‘Twas both my gravest wish and worry that I would be able to do so myself when the time came; be able to acquit myself well as a warrior.

Outpost Epsilon
Underground Storm Cloud Vault
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

Methinks I knew full well that ponies could control weather, having seen them not only create wind, but manipulate clouds to fire lightning on the drill fields.

I had even seen them practice assembling and disassembling a small supercell at least twice, building it up and then breaking it back down into individual storm clouds. But in such instances they didn’t let the storm fully develop; they stopped it before it could metastasize, for lack of a better word, into a full-blown maelstrom.

Thus, I didn’t truly know the full scope of what they could unleash until I saw this one created. ‘Twas an absolute monster of a storm that quickly overspread the entire sky, sucking up the fog from below and its wind ripping at us even inside the cavern; the constant crashing booms from its unnaturally strong lightning bolts causing vibrations I could feel from beneath the earth. Indeed, methinks I was suddenly very happy to be inside and under some cover, though I feared greatly for my mother and all my friends now outside fighting within it.

As much as I may have wished to, I knew better than to join them. ‘Twas certain I knew full well that my smaller size and lack of pegasi weather magic would work against me in such a violent environment, leaving me far more at the mercy of the swirling winds and lightning than the wind-riding pegasi and the larger, heavier Talons and Knights charging in. For me to attempt to fight within the storm would be suicide, and thus I obeyed Mother’s direction to help move the healer teams and wounded into the vacated storm cloud vault, along with our earth pony maintenance crew and all the equipment and supplies we could.

The idea ‘twas that we would use the empty cavern as a final sanctuary and redoubt when they drove us from the skies. We would hold up inside and force them to storm it through the narrow chokepoint the vault doors created, enabling us to exact an even higher toll.

‘Twould ultimately change little, we knew, but we were all resigned to our fate, and I swore that I would fight and fall with my friends defending the adoptive nation I had come to love.

Best Laid Plans

Unfortunately, our enemies had their own plans to end resistance at Epsilon cheaply and quickly, and those plans only became apparent as midnight was reached and the floor of the cavern began to quake.

At first, I thought ‘twas just the fury of the newly-formed storm shaking the very ground around us, but the lie of that was proven quickly when the center of the cavern floor suddenly caved in with a cloud of dust. We weren’t sure what was happening until several decades of figures suddenly shot out of the opening, resolving into a score of gryphons, including two mages and at least a dozen diamond dogs.

We gaped for a moment, our presence equally unexpected to each other, the gryphons looking around at the empty vault in some confusion before realizing they weren’t alone.

And then, to borrow one of the many pony phrases I had learned over the past several months, all Tartarus broke loose.

The healers dropped what they were doing and immediately levitated their longbows, hurriedly notching arrows whilst the earth pony maintenance crew grabbed the axes strapped to their backs, wielding them in their mouths. A startled mage hurled a lightning bolt into our midst only to find a hastily erected shield from Still Way, who had enough aura to spare for a second spell; this one a magical burst to bowl the diamond dogs back towards the lip of their newly created tunnel. His instinctive effort disrupted their formation and initial crossbow volley, causing their shots to go wild.

I am ashamed to say that I did not react immediately myself, standing frozen for a moment until a familiar voice snapped me out of my uncertainty.

“Gavian!”A recently returned Swift Strike shouted at me, quickly interposing himself, wingblades bared as the first crossbow bolts were aimed my way. “Take flight, NOW!”he ordered me and I instantly obeyed the instructions of my mentor, evading a hastily launched and rather ragged crossbow volley from an additional squad of Diamond Dogs that popped out of the tunnel, whose neck was perchance ten yards wide.

The mages were defended by two dozen Talons and several Fortis Knights, who looked just as surprised to see us as the rest, their leader shouting orders at the Talons—all earth gryphons—to form up.

One bolt whistled past my ear. My heart racing and a momentary sense of panic gripping me—I had fought spars and even a death duel with Flight Sergeant Osprey two months earlier, and my talons had drawn blood when I had hunted, but methinks a full-blown battle situation ‘twas not something I was yet familiar with, and I wasn’t sure what to do.

Should I fight? If so, who first? Who was the greater threat? Should I use my sword or new crossbow? Should I attack our foes or defend the healers? Or should I—

The gryphon leader—a Fortis Knight tiercel wielding a war hammer and bearing the rank of a Decurio; their platoon leader equivalent—broke into my thoughts with his next shouted orders, appraising the situation and then reeling off his instructions in Aeric with impressive speed despite the surprise situation he faced.

“Mages! Kill the unicorn Guardspony and then hit targets of opportunity! Dogs! Concentrate fire on the unicorns! Pin them down and then slay them with anti-aura and explosive bolts! Talons! Annihilate the Earth Ponies and then flank the unicorns! Knights! Take down their pegasus commander and thenslay the traitor!”he pointed directly at me with his war mace, the murder in his eyes and sheer venom in his voice causing my heart to stop.

The threat to my life suddenly imminent as the three Fortis Knights quickly took an arrow formation and charged through the air for me and my mentor, I finally remembered the sword on my back and drew it as the healers exchanged volleys with the Diamond Dogs, longbow arrows putting several down swiftly as Still Way engaged the two mages, aura to aura.

Methinks they looked surprised that a single unicorn, even a Celestial Guardspony, would challenge them, their enchanted cloaks protecting them from his curses whilst they first tried to overwhelm him with beams of sheer magical force. And they were indeed driving his aura back until he teleported behind one and then hit her with an anti-aura arrow to collapse her shield, teleporting a second time to dodge a retaliatory lightning strike from her male comrade before she was slain with a crossbow bolt through her chest fired by Spear Sergeant Steelheart, who then rallied the Earth Ponies to meet the Talons.

Both infuriated and afraid, the surviving mage screamed in rage at the loss of his comrade. He spun his staff and released a wave of magic that washed over me—a teleport suppression field, I would later learn—and then started pounding Still Way with his strongest elemental magic, hitting him with fire, lighting and even ice in turn. Meanwhile, the Talons engaged Steelheart and the earth pony maintenance crew, the decade of troops initially taking to the air briefly to launch an aerial volley that caused them to scatter and upend tables to use as improvised shields, providing at least some protection from the armor-piercing and explosive bolts that impacted them.

To their credit, the blonde-maned and bearded earth pony maintenance crew did not falter. They, too, had come around to me and I’d spoken to them once or twice; from what I’d learned for them they were no stranger to fighting. Having grown up in the backcountry of Swheaten where wild boars and marauding Timberwolves were always a threat, they were able to throw their axes with surprising force and accuracy, sending them spinning through the air at their assailants, who were forced to break formation to dodge.

None hit, but with their flight disrupted, at Steelheart’s order they then ran at and leapt at the low flying gryphons who had dodged towards the floor, catching several by the forelegs and dragging them to ground where they could fight them. They slew two quickly with pounding hooves and axe strikes before the gryphons retaliated, moving to envelop them, forming a loose line and drawing their mid-sized shields, advancing with them in their left talons whilst wielding a spear in their right.

But ‘twas certain I could not watch the further progression of that fight as I prepared to engage the Knights with Swift Strike at the fore, realizing with both excitement and no little fear that within seconds, my fondest wish and greatest fantasy would be realized—to be a warrior and engage an elite enemy in mortal combat.

“Gavian! On me!” Swift Strike ordered, flying in a spiral pattern to throw off crossbow fire as I’d seen Corps soldiers practice; I immediately followed his lead and his exact path. “It’s up to us to fight their flyers! Now load your crossbow! Use an armor-piercing bolt—the black-tipped ones!” he shouted back, plucking two throwing blades from his belt as we closed the distance. “When I tell you, break high and target the leftmost Knight from above!”

“Y-yes, teacher!” Methinks things were now happening so fast that I’m surprised I heard his order, but months of obedience to his instructions as my mentor made me obey automatically, fumbling home a bolt and using the lever to draw the string back. He’d spent time with me earlier that day training me in its use at static targets, and though I could hit the hay bales with parchment targets stuck to them I’d shot at easily enough, ‘twasn’t at all certain to me how I would do against moving ones.

And in any event, ‘tis certain I had precious little time to consider the fact as our adversaries drew near. “Now!” Swift Strike shouted as we closed to within twenty yards, and I immediately shot up and to the left, targeting the Knight nearest me. He immediately broke formation and moved to follow me, battle axe and his own crossbow in talons as my first bolt missed wide—I simply hadn’t had enough practice with it yet. It mattered not as Swift Strike in turn targeted that gryphon, simply shooting between the first two—or so I thought as they gave pained cries.

At first, I didn’t see why, my attention on the third gryphon as it was. Swift Strike streaked upwards towards him whilst I darted aside, the Knight’s return bolt just missing my head; the whistle of its passing scaring me so badly methinks that months earlier I might well have fainted from fright.

But I was not the helpless cub I once was, and my training and desire to live up to my own oath, prove myself the warrior Centurion Nael claimed I could never be overrode my fears. I would fulfil my oath to defend Equestria! I would prove my parents and nation had been wrong to discard me as worthless here and now!

“Close on him!” my mentor ordered as he did the same from behind, forcing the Knight, now separated from his comrades, to deal with two disparate threats at once. An Earth Gryphon, he was not as fast in the air as me or the Sky Sergeant, but his armor was tough and his strength not to be trifled with as he parried first my swing and Swift Strike’s pass, the jarring impact knocking me backwards.

“Sting and move, Gavian!” Swift Strike ordered further as we began peppering the Knight with blade blows from two sides, trying to find a chink in his armor whilst avoiding his spinning axe. Below us, the other two Knights were staggered and I saw why as one removed a throwing blade from his side with a pained grunt whilst the other was forced to the ground by a second blade in his shoulder near the base of his wing. But he was still able to fight, shaking off the blow and then heading towards the battle between the Talons and Earth Ponies.

‘Twas just then there was anothereruption of dirt and dust from the middle of the healers, which shortly revealed itself to be a second hole hastily dug by the dogs into the middle of our defenses. Another six dogs popped up from the small opening and took down two of the healers before they could react, and worse, began slaying our wounded, clubbing and stabbing them as a mobile but broken Sky Sentry could only cower and sob. Our defenses split, the Talons took advantage and began rolling them up from two sides.

‘Twas little we could do to help until we dealt with the one Knight, however. Our speed told and finally my mentor scored with his left wingblade, penetrating the Fortis Knight’s armor at the elbow joint and causing him to drop his axe. He followed that up with an upward strike, knocking his foe’s head up and baring the top of his throat… which was promptly sliced open by the veteran Lance, with a spinning wingblade slash whilst I send him plummeting to the ground with a strike to the back of his helmeted head.

A gout of blood spattered my mentor, but not me; in hindsight’ tis just as well or it might have deepened my shock. But far from noticing it himself, Swift Strike merely looked at me and nodded. “Well done, lad. Now back on me! We have to help the healers!” he told me, only for our way to be blocked by the other airborne Knight, who ignored his wound to brandish his mace in one set of talons and a large shield in the other.

He paid Swift Strike no mind to focus on me. “You dishonor our race and our Empire, traitorous runt! And for it, you must die!” he announced in Aeric, brandishing his mace and ignoring his bleeding flank.

“Gavian…” Swift Strike began to fly in front of me, readying to confront the second Knight himself.

“No, mentor!” I told him, blocking his way and brandishing my still-clean sword, trying to ignore the clenching of my stomach. I had fought a death duel once before, but that had been in front of a mostly friendly audience, and facing a far smaller adversary than the imposing Fortis Knight before me, wielding heavy weapons and armor I could not even begin to heft.

“I will fight him! If he wishes to kill me I will grant him the chance! So do not worry about me! Help the healers and slay the dogs! You must turn the winds of battle in our favor!” I told him, turning towards him just long enough for him to see both the fear and fire in my eyes.

He stared into them only briefly, myriad emotions in his own gaze. He looked as if there was something he wanted to say, but there was no time and methinks he knew I was right. He gave me a brief but hard hug with his foreleg, than dove hard for the deck, leaving me to face the Fortis Knight alone.

And ‘twas a very difficult thing for me to do, Gavian, knowing I could be abandoning you to your death, but as you say, I knew you were right and that I was needed below.

I do not like bragging about my combat exploits. ‘Tis an unseemly thing for warriors in general and the Lances in particular, where our operations and skillset must remain in the shadows as much as possible. But again, as this battle and my role in it is one of public record, methinks I will indulge.

—Swift Strike

Close Quarters Combat

Methinks I am hardly giving away a secret to say if there is one thing the Lances are particularly good at, ‘tis room clearing tactics.

‘Tis necessary given many of our tasks involve infiltration of enemy facilities, and thus clearing rooms and corridors ‘tis something that is drilled into us time and time again until ‘tis second nature. For me, however, it became something of a forte; one of several I now possess. I can fight well in the sky, certainly, but my true specialty both there and later as a Bolt Knight was ground and close-quarters blade combat.

As such, ‘tis not a boast but a simple statement of fact to say I was the perfect pony for the problem the second front of the diamond dogs presented.

Going for my belt as I dove on their latest tunnel, I armed two shock gems at once by plucking them from my belt with both hooves and then reaching back to twist their tops against the shoulders of my wingblade harness. Once primed, I hurled them at the two greatest concentrations of dogs, catching at least four in their static snare. They fell swiftly to my wingblades afterwards as I followed up with two throwing blades that found the throat of one and the chest of another, killing the first and staggering the second, leaving him easy prey for the remaining healers, at least one of which had discarded her longbow and was now whirling and slashing with a small unicorn blade given to her by Still Way.

Still Way himself was still locked in a magical duel with the second gryphon mage and showing an impressive range of spellcasting, disrupting his opponent’s offensive magic by various means, and at one point he took a gout of flame point blank only to reveal himself slightly singed but otherwise unharmed courtesy of an anti-fire enchantment. The frustrated mage then tried to bring a loosened boulder from the storm-shaken ceiling down on his shielded head, but a magical beam shattered it before it could reach him and then, with the two having spent a significant portion of their power trying to futilely overcome the other’s defenses, the mage finally pointed his stave directly at the Celestial Guardspony in challenge.

Still Way smiled serenely at that. He announced his acceptance of the offered duel by lowering his head to present his horn. And then…

And then the pair launched pure magical beams at each other which met midway between them in a bright and growing glow. No spells, no subtlety, just a battle of sheer magical force that manifested itself in clashing beams, their battle now reduced to a simple contest of aural strength and stamina.

I saw all this only in passing whilst dealing with the surface dogs, however, directing defense whilst I slew the remainder, driving the rest back into the tunnel whence they had sprung—their appearance had done its damage however, with two of our six healers down and a third wounded, as well as losing many of their patients. That only enraged our remaining unicorns further as they went back to their killing work with a will, obeying my instructions to seal the tunnel behind me as I lit a firegem and charged the tunnel, intended to clear it in its entirety before it could be used again.

The five or so dogs inside were surprised to see me, but I gave them no chance to collapse the ceiling on top of me as my blades swung and lashed out, not lingering in any one place but darting from point to point, dog to dog, slaying each in turn—they had clubs and some armor but my smaller size worked to my advantage as it always had; I was able to maneuver in the narrow space whereas they could not. The dogs were greedy but refused to abandon their own, and thus, the ones further back were not willing to sacrifice their comrades by collapsing the tunnel midway even as the Talon eagless who was directing them begged them to.

Slaying the final dog, I reached the Talon herself; a Decurion who had not the training or weapons needed for the task of fighting me. She tried, true enough, attempting to ward me off with her blade whilst backing out of the narrow tunnel, but found her scimitar too long to be effectively swung in the cramped confines. She even fired an explosive crossbow bolt into the ceiling to try to collapse it on top of me when her canine subordinates would not, but despite taking a few crystal fragments I slew her easily when I reached her—the Ravens were well-trained for such affairs but not Talons—and burst out into the main tunnel, throwing a few flash gems out ahead of me to dazzle any other Talons or Dogs still there.

I heard a few pained cries and, being unable to target me for the spots in their vision, I shot past them and then back into the open air of the cavern, bearing down on the Talon battle line from behind. I slew two with wingblades before they saw me, breaking their improvised phalanx, allowing the earth ponies to begin driving them back towards the tunnel.

The entire sequence I described had taken less than a minute from beginning to end. ‘Twas only then I dared look up to see how Gavian was doing, and methinks I was not reassured when I saw neither him nor his Knight opponent within view.

I offer my sincerest apologies for that, mentor. But methinks I was still gathering myself at that moment, mentally dealing with the aftermath of the fight I shall now describe.

—Gavian

There had been times, during my sword training, that Swift Strike had emphasized to me the importance of focus.

Focus on form, focus on my opponent, focus on the strike or parry to come. Focus on the flow of the fight and match your rhythm to that of your enemy so that you might see it and disrupt it. But so much was going through my head at that moment that focus was nigh impossible. So many little battles happening within the cavern; so much worry about what was happening outside in the violent storm whose deadly force could even be heard and felt inside; so much fear of the Knight before me who had sworn to kill me.

What was I doing there? What was I thinking believing I could challenge a fully armed and armored veteran earth gryphon Knight wearing the rank insignia of a Second Spear, with nothing more than my sword and some mismatched pieces of Talon armor?

I quashed those fears as hard as I could. For I had sworn an oath to not only defend Equestria, but to repay the blood debt I had incurred for the six Corps soldiers who had died in January defending me from the Ravens. If I was to be any kind of warrior, I could not shirk this fight. If I was to call myself honorable and defend Equestria as I had promised, I had to fight and win!

Unfortunately, ‘tis certain such noble sentiments only go so far. The Knight recognized the shaking of my limbs as I faced him, and smiled. “Fear not, misguided young cub. I’ll make your end quick!” he promised me in Aeric as he wielded his mace.

And yet for all my fears and to my own great surprise, my immediate reaction was to give him a goading grin; the same one I’d used on Nael not even an hour earlier. “Then bring it, you overgrown and honorless turkey!” I replied in Aeric to cover my own anxiety, half-hoping I could make him attack in anger as I’d done to Osprey during our earlier duel—to call a gryphon a turkey was to imply they were clumsy and awkward; more interested in their plumage whilst being unworthy of being a predator or warrior.

Unfortunately, he was far more disciplined than that and his face contorted in a snarl as my mortal insult registered. “I take it back, cub. For your insolence, you will die slowly and painfully!” The Knight promised me, and began a very deliberate approach.

My initial gambit having failed, I tried to appraise the situation and my opponent as Swift Strike had taught me. The Knight outweighed me considerably even without his armor, and being an earth gryphon meant he was far stronger than me. That alone meant I couldn’t possibly parry his blows directly or our difference of size and strength would tell; I’d be knocked right into the ground or worse, the sword from my talons if I did.

But that did not mean I did not have advantages of my own. In time, you can be just like me, Gavian… so fast and quick nopony can touch you! Swift Strike had once promised me, but I had certainly never reached that point with him, still the fastest pony I knew. But against this Knight, who knew not how I’d trained or fought…?

He charged me, swinging his mace in an arc that had I stood still would have quickly connected with my head, crushing my skull despite the borrowed and bloody helmet I was wearing. But by the time it reached where I was, I had automatically dodged it as I would one of my mentor’s wingblades in a training spar, easily evading it and suddenly finding myself beside the Second Spear and whirling my blade to impact his head.

Swift Strike or Mother would have parried it easily, but this Knight was not Swift Strike, and the impact of metal on metal rang out loud and clear, rattling his skull within it. Surprised but only briefly staggered, he brought his shield up to ward off additional blows whilst I circled him, landing a second strike on his back near his less-protected hindquarters, my slash penetrating the thin armor and drawing blood!

‘Twas then I realized—‘twas exactly as Swift Strike said! My smaller size and all the agility training he had given me meant I could ‘fly rings’ around the Knight; he couldn’t match my speed or striking ability in the air!

That did not mean he couldn’t make use of other means, however, as he replaced his shield on his back and grabbed some form of snare from inside his armor in its place, whirling it with increasing speed and radius around him like an exotic whip. “Fool! You may be fast, but you can’t dodge this!” he promised, and the truth of the statement was proven when he lashed out with it and, to my horror, snared my hind leg!

“No!”I panicked as I felt myself being yanked back towards him and his waiting mace. I slashed at it frantically only for my sword to barely fray it; ‘twas enchanted somehow and I didn’t have the time to break through it. He had me dead to rights; at the rate he was reeling me in by repeatedly wrapping the snare around his armored wrist, I’d be in range of his mace within seconds. I was already anticipating the impact of its spiked surface against my chest or head; ‘twas certain at that moment I was dead…

And suddenly time slowed down. I’d heard Mother and mentor speak of such things; of how, in the midst of combat, one’s senses become heightened to incredible levels of acuity, entering an altered state where even perceptions of the passage of time were affected. They spoke of it how ‘twas something that happened spontaneously, an enhanced state of being that only the best and most seasoned of soldiers could experience on cue.

‘Twas certain I’d always thought it mere hyperbole, until it happened to me. I saw everything in perfect clarity from the path of and manner of his strike to how long it would take…

To the quarter-second gap he would leave in his defenses whilst readying his mace for the killing blow, leaving his head open. And thus, whether due to the graces of my ancestors or the fact that somehow, I was now one of those such gifted warriors, I saw the opening. And I took it.

Shifting my stance into a thrusting one even as I was pulled towards him, I waited for his mace arm to clear and then stabbed forward, pushing my blade with both arms. My aim was true; the tip of my sword speared right through his helmet, finding his unprotected eye and driving halfway into his skull. Methinks he realized he was slain for a split second as his other eye briefly locked with mine in shock…

And then it went unfocused and his body limp as he slid backwards off my sword, leaving the last half of it covered with gore, dropping the snare whilst leaving it hanging from my leg. Methinks I cannot describe how I felt at that moment—terrified yet elated, proud yet petrified, even horrified at my feat. I had slain—not a forest creature, but another gryphon, and an elite soldier at that. I was now what I always wished—a warrior with my first true kill to my name! And yet…

The rush of combat and heightened awareness left me as the enormity of my feat sunk in along with the realization that I had just slain. I shook. I trembled. My flight faltered…

And then I lost my senses for a moment, falling to the cavern floor in a faint.

Even nearly thirty years later, all I can say is: well done, Gavian. You overcame your fears to defeat a very powerful adversary in single combat, thus proving the lie of Centurion Nael’s words… though ‘tis certain Nael himself had yet to learn that!

—Swift Strike

In the Balance

Despite killing two Knights and most of the Dogs along with five Talons, the cavern battle still hung in the balance.

The duel between the surviving mage and Still Way was still going unabated and there was nothing I could do to help him except trust that the strangely serene First Sergeant knew what he was doing, and that he had the magical reserves to outlast his gryphon counterpart. In the meantime, the priority became the fifteen remaining Talons, who were darting back and forth over our unicorns and earth ponies, trying to gain advantage of position before they could shift to counter.

I was doing the same, but the remaining Talons were aware of my presence now and keeping at least two crossbows trained on me at all times, their best archers firing special proximal explosive bolts that the EIS reported they’d been developing but did not yet have. The lie of that intelligence was proven when I dodged one only for it to detonate six feet away, peppering me with sharp crystal shrapnel and knocking me to the ground with my ears ringing and face bleeding; methinks I was very lucky not to lose a wing or an eye.

Trying to pick myself up, I finally saw Gavian lying yards from his slain adversary, alive but shaking and trying to overcome the emotional shock of what he’d just done, attempting to pull himself up by using his sword as a stand. He caught my eye and gave me a shaky nod, which I quickly returned, pulling my last pair of throwing blades and trying to think of my next tactic if I couldn’t fly in.

‘Twas only then I realized we had a far greater issue as suddenly the third Knight catapulted himself out of cover into action, leaping a stand of rock with his war hammer strapped to his back and charging on all fours for Steelheart, who had been effectively leading the defense. The Spear Sergeant saw him too late as the earth gryphon slammed into him, raking his cheek with his talons and pounding him hard into the ground before rearing up and grabbing his massive weapon.

My heart clenched, realizing there was nothing I nor anypony else could do; even at full speed I couldn’t reach him in time. Steelheart was down, stunned and unmoving, helpless before the third Fortis Knight, who raised his war hammer over his head and then brought it down in a practiced overhoof strike. I had seen captured older versions of those weapons demonstrated at Lance intelligence briefings—the head was charged with magic which would erupt with devastating concussive force upon impact with its target, likely reducing the Spear Sergeant’s form to pulp.

The blow never landed. There was a shriek of fear and pain followed by a blur of blue and white as a large winged form tackled the Knight before he could bring his hammer down. To my shock, it resolved into the form of… Sky Sentry!

Finally rediscovering his courage and warrior heart, he grappled with the earth gryphon with no protection other than a borrowed Corps combat uniform, fighting him for the weapon. He was shouting and crying as despite his lack of wingblades or any other weapon he brought blow after blow down on the wounded Knight with his hooves alone, denting his armor and pounding his helmeted head mercilessly.

“No more dead ponies! NO MORE!” he shouted over and over as he landed haymaker after haymaker on his adversary, not caring how vulnerable he was without armor or weapons of his own.

And when the reeling and bleeding Knight finally gathered enough of his senses to throw his adversary off and put him in what I’d heard earth ponies refer to as a ‘bear hug’, holding him upright and intending to use the staff of the hammer to break his spine, the stallion surprised him with hard and repeated headbutts, knocking off his helmet with the first and then pounding his opponent’s forehead repeatedly.

‘Tis certain I had no idea how he was able to maintain consciousness through that punishment, but either through adrenaline or sheer desperation, he finally broke the Knight’s grip, landed a two-hooved uppercut on his chin, then wheeled and bucked him with both his hind hooves despite his still-bandaged wounds, breaking ribs and knocking his adversary into a nearby table filled with healer supplies. The maintenance crew finished the Knight by splitting his unprotected head open, and then helped Sky Sentry to his hooves. He tried to fight them as well for a moment before he realized they were friendly, at which point he broke down and cried like a foal again, two of the healers attending him with the third going to Steelheart.

The fight remained at a standoff until suddenly the mage’s aura weakened and Still Way drove his own right back into his enemy’s staff, shattering it in his grasp. He then simply magically snapped the mage’s neck, and with his loss, the Talons realized they could no longer win faced with the magic of the Celestial Guardspony; at their leader’s direction they bolted for the tunnel which they had originally come, their surviving dozen members diving down it, leaving that many more behind. Two more fell to longbow arrows and one to an earth pony axe before they completed their escape.

Though severely weakened with his magic almost completely drained, Still Way took charge of the ground defense in place of Steelheart, directing the remaining three healers to lay a specific suppression spell he’d taught them over the area to prevent further Diamond Dog breakthroughs and then help him bring down the ceiling over the tunnel to plug its entrance.

It caved in with a resounding BOOM!, and thus did the battle for Epsilon’s vacated storm cloud vault end.

Thank you for relating this remarkable tale, Swift Strike and Gavian. I marvel at your courage and response to a completely unexpected move by the gryphons, one we did not anticipate but perchance should have as we knew by then they were using Diamond Dogs on the attack. And ‘twas certainly not my intention in sending you down there, Gavian, that you challenge and defeat a Fortis Knight! Be proud, even now, of how well you performed in your first battle, my son, and fret not about your poor reaction to your first kill—you know well from the earlier volume how badly I took mine!

From beginning to end, according to Swift Strike, the cavern battle took but two minutes. The intention of this strike into the storm cloud vault, we learned from the wounded dogs left behind, was to rig our storm cloud cache to explode with all its lightning on cue once the outside forces had hemmed us into a small enough area where we would all be caught in the blast, ending resistance at Epsilon at little additional cost.

‘Twas a good and cunning plan, one that methinks would likely have worked had they struck only twenty minutes earlier before we began to build the superstorm. Unfortunately for the gryphons, they were trapped by their own offer of honor; they broke in at the stroke of midnight when our surrender deadline lapsed and ‘twould seem from this description that they were very surprised to find the vault devoid of clouds but full of armed ponies with a superstorm raging outside.

They clearly did not expect more than token forces there but instead faced a mixed platoon-sized contingent as they attempted to overcome and perchance deny us our final refuge. They did not succeed thanks to the combined efforts of all three pony tribes, but the cost was high; most of our wounded were slain along with half our healer team and two of the earth pony maintenance crew, who I recommended be awarded an Army medal—the Opal Spear—and honorary Army ranks for their superb and fearless efforts.

On the face of it, this battle was but a sideshow to one we were fighting outside under the most dangerous and deadly conditions imaginable, but as it turned out, ‘twas fortunate indeed that we won that skirmish, as the next chapter will show. But for now? We have just received word that father has awoken, so ‘tis time to see him and tell him how much I love him.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Tactics and Military History Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

In war, there are no unwounded soldiers. —Jose Narosky

Author's Note

So the battle beneath the storm opens with a surprise skirmish that turns out to be anything but a sideshow, and thus is learned the fate of the two captured Ravens, spared by an act of mercy and honor from Swift Strike. Will they appear again? Maybe. But for now, this is the first of a three-chapter ending arc that describes the climactic Battle for Epsilon and brings to a close the first day of the invasion. Yes, it's taken a while to get this far, but the first day of war needed this treatment--needless to say, I will not be writing fifteen chapters per each day of war! After this, time jumps of days to weeks will occur between major battles and the progress of the invasion will be shown graphically where not directly described.

Regardless, hope you liked! The key here was figuring out battle progression; once I did, things went a lot more smoothly. Thanks as always go to Council of War members AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, Leo Archon and Denim_Blue. Appreciate the prereads and commentary, guys!

The War Begins: 16 - Into the Storm

Dear readers—

To the relief of all, my father has emerged from surgery and regained consciousness, though he is understandably very groggy and slow to respond. He is also very tired and his inner magic is weak, leaving him unable to heal or recover quickly.

The latter, unfortunately, is by design—in order for his body to accept and reconnect to the rebuilt wing and not reject the change to his anatomy the operation imparted, his natural aura must be suppressed for several days, rendering him very weak, and, more ominously, vulnerable to various maladies, both physical and magical.

‘Twill be very ‘touch-and-go’, as I have heard the term given, for the next week, and he will not be out of danger for some time. But I may at least report he recognized me and, to little surprise, the first thing he did was to ask me what I thought of his earlier writing.

I could only hug him in answer, telling him all the things I wish I’d been able to before—that nopony would ever think him a coward, and, just as he himself pointed out, true courage was not the absence of fear, but acting in spite of it. I then mentioned that he had inspired us to work on the next chapter for distraction ourselves, so he asked to see it. Unable to read it with unfocused eyes, he laid back and listened as Gavian sat at his bedside and recited it to him. He offered a few comments here and there, though he didn’t make it to the end before he fell asleep again, exhausted after his ordeal.

Gavian decided to remain with him after that, saying that as his own story of the battle was finished for now, he would “do a grandson’s duty” and “stay at his grandsire’s side.” He also said he’d been inspired to create a new picture of the vault battle he’d witnessed and participated in, and immediately set out to creating some preliminary sketches.

So for the rest of us, ‘tis time to relate the story of the battle beneath the storm. ‘Twas not the only time such a tactic would be attempted during the conflict, and ‘twas always a desperate one when it was—an admission that no victory was possible and the only remaining option was to try and take as many enemy soldiers with us as we could.

‘Tis the grim calculus of war, as I have heard arcane theorists use the term for such advanced mathematics as to be almost magical in what they can express, and did not always work. But here at the start…?

Well. Perchance we should simply let the story tell the tale.

—Firefly

For those non-pegasi who may be reading this work, I wish it known here and now that ‘tis a myth that pegasi are immune to weather.

For what does that mean? That we do not get wet when it rains? That we do not feel the biting chill and thin air of the upper atmosphere? That we cannot be slain by a direct strike from lightning? All are false statements, as any pegasus who has ever worked with weather can attest.

Does our wind and weather magic make us resistant to such effects? Certainly, doubly so for those like myself or Thunderbolt who demonstrated an elemental affinity for lightning or other weather aspects. But immune? Not hardly. Many are the cases of a pegasus who did not respect the power of the weather or thought too highly of their own ability to control it ending up injured or worse.

Indeed, methinks I was one of those pegasi when, but a single short month earlier, I ordered Fell Flight to fire a bolt from one of our own storm clouds at me so I could practice deflecting it. Even with my as-yet unrealized lightning affinity, I ended up flat on my flank and lucky to be alive.

Indeed you did, Captain. Be grateful that despite your orders, I only used a half-strength bolt! Even so, ‘twas a moment when I thought I had accidentally killed you, rushing you to the infirmary afterwards, though ‘twould be the basest of lies to say I did not enjoy greatly being able to say I told you so when you woke up!

–Fell Flight

I’m sure you did, Lieutenant. And methinks I cannot fault you for it. ‘Twas an incredibly foalish move on my part; one you warned me against, and methinks I more than deserved your ridicule afterwards. But it did at least let me know where I stood in terms of ability, and once I had recovered enough to ‘start small’, as you so correctly advised back then, I started practicing with bolts fired from naturally occurring cumulus clouds and working my way up, if somewhat slower than I would have liked after my close brush with death.

Nevertheless, ‘twas efforts that would serve me well this night, engaged with the gryphons beneath a monster of our own making. Either due to Harmony or happenstance, the timing of the storm was perfect as it broke just as the gryphons began pushing in at midnight, not realizing the welcome we had prepared for them until ‘twas far too late.

Dimmu Borgir - Stormblast

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Northeast quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

I had barely received word of the gryphon intrusion into the empty storm cloud vault when the first Sky Gryphon Talons and Knights appeared in the rapidly clearing air beneath the base of the storm, charging in from their outside staging areas as earth gryphons advanced on the ground in ordered ranks.

I saw a few look up in consternation as they emerged out of the fog and recognized what we had done, but to their credit—or perchance foalishness—none wavered; their orders were to crowd us and use sheer mass of numbers, staged advances and crossbow volleys from above and below to push us back towards the vault entrance where our own rigged lightning cache could kill us.

They knew not that their plan was in vain any more than I knew what their plan was. I did, however, know that their crossbows were almost completely useless in such conditions; the fierce winds the supercell was already generating ruined their accuracy and as the first sheets of rain began to fall from the storm’s forward flank, visibility dwindled quickly, allowing us to close on them where our wingblades could tell.

“All platoons! Hold position! Wait for the storm to fully mask us, then strike!”I ordered with a shout into my red command gem, praying I could still be heard over the growing gale, our forces—and theirs—already being buffeted by the strengthening downdrafts as rain and hail began falling from the cloud base.

‘Twas nothing I could do about the cavern battle except offer a quick prayer up for the civilians, healers and Gavian, and hope that the presence of two Celestial Guardsponies and a Black Lance would provide sufficient combat capability to win it. For if they could not, I not only lost my son, but we lost our planned redoubt and would inevitably fall victim to the storm as well.

But the storm was not at its worst, and ‘twouldn’t be for some time; it had not yet fully matured and would need some minutes—and perchance some more help—to do so. That gave us a window in which we could engage in direct combat with the gryphons with some chance of success.

The first engagements occurred just as the storm broke in all its fury directly overhead, the impact of the first oversized raindrops stinging us even as the storm’s mesocyclone continued to suck in warm, moist air the fog had provided in the normally dry desert air from below, powering itself up further whilst keeping the air beneath it rain-free.

We knew well enough to stay clear of the latter marked by its increasingly roiled and lowering cloud base, made clearly visible in the dark along with the rest of the battlefield by the lightning forking through the cloud.

But ‘twas apparent the gryphons did not as one of their centuries attempted to flank Snow Squall’s platoon through the deceptively clear air beneath it, only to be sucked up within in it and then chewed up in the storm’s interior, shredded by lightning and pummeled by the increasingly large hail that surrounded it, battered bodies raining to the ground below along with the greenish-tinged ice now falling from its base.

Lightning was also starting to reach out from the storm to strike the ground beneath it at an alarming rate, occasionally drawn directly to the metal-armored Knights, and unfortunately, a few of my own soldiers as well, striking several in flight and sending them dead or dying to the ground.

My guts clenched to see it, but ‘twas what we had wanted and invited as, on my order when the rainfall had increased to a torrent, we charged the much larger gryphon formations, intending to mix it up with them at close range.

Holding proper platoon, squad or even flight formations ‘twas impossible for both sides under such conditions, buffeted by wind, rain and initially small hail as we were. But such conditions gave pegasi the advantage, neutralizing all ranged weaponry for lack of visibility and altered flight paths of their crossbow arrows.

They could not see us in the violent storm except at close range, and even then they could not hit us with their crossbows, as chaotic winds ruined their accuracy and the few explosive bolts that detonated did little damage as their shrapnel effects were mitigated by the growing wind and torrent. Our wind and flight magic allowed us to fly and fight better than the gryphons, and we took maximum advantage of this, sensing and using the air currents to slay several dozen swiftly as they simply could not maneuver well enough to meet us.

And in the case of myself, I discovered that I did not need to be able to see them to strike them.

‘Twas a side effect of my as-yet un-fully realized lightning affinity that I could detect electrical fields around me and focuses of increased conductivity within it, like metal armor… or even living bodies when they were close enough and the fields strong enough. ‘Tis hard to describe to the laypony how I perceive them; ‘tis something akin to the magical awareness all ponies possess except directed toward electricity in general and lightning in particular.

‘Tis worth noting that the EIS’s Office of Magical Research tried to determine the extent of my abilities both during and after the war (the latter when they had access to gryphon expertise and technology). They found I could sense, track, and even somewhat influence the course of artificially-generated electricity, including the ‘Alternating Current’ the Minotaurs had discovered and were using to power their city lights.

Such scientific examinations lay in the future, however. ‘Twas in fact an effect I had noticed in the past during bad storms and even occasionally during training sessions involving naturally occurring clouds Wind Whistler used to fire weak bolts at me, but I hadn’t been able to make much use of it. The conditions under which ‘twas both available and useful were simply too limited. But beneath a growing superstorm charging up the very atmosphere around me with plenty of electricity as the gryphons closed in?

Both were met.

I couldn’t see more than twenty feet ahead of me as the wind-driven downpour intensified, but I didn’t need to—to my surprise I could tell clearly where each gryphon soldier was within a hundred yards; even their stance or where their head was turned was apparent to me if they were close enough. Methinks the sky gryphon Wind Knights shone brightest, for lack of a better term, due to their mainly metal armor showing up clearly in a static-charged atmosphere while the mostly-leather wearing Talons weren’t quite as visible until I got closer. As such, I targeted the former, occasionally sensing and dodging a lightning bolt, swerving around its path though the booms were still deafening and the shock waves rattled me.

A couple times I sensed a prospective lightning path bending towards me and realized my own Guardspony armor was drawing it in, but the enchanted metal was designed to protect against Magus Knight attacks, including their lightning bolts, and thus afforded me a degree of protection to anything except a direct hit.

‘Twas the same for the non-Magus Knights, as they fared far better beneath the storm than the Talons. More than once I sensed a strike take out an entire decade of the latter by impacting a metal helmet in its center, which caused the bolt to branch outward to strike other nearby soldiers. For the former, lightning bolts took a few out singly but their armor enchantments were, like mine, sufficient to protect them from near misses or indirect effects.

But they did not protect against me. Ordering Blindside’s platoon to come in behind me and concentrate on the Talons, I focused my efforts on the nearest decade of Knights, swooping and slashing. I tried but did not always succeed in riding the near-hurricane winds by harnessing my own wing-generated gusts to counter and compensate, using the cover of the storm and my suddenly-amazing awareness of my surroundings to pick off the elite gryphon soldiers one by one.

When possible, I struck them from behind where their armor protection was weakest, attacking their wings and necks; only occasionally did I have to parry a sword strike or dodge a swipe from their steel claws. To my surprise, at least one crossbow bolt found its mark, partially penetrating my flank armor as I plunged into a full decade of them, hearing some startled shouts before a fresh boom of lightning drowned them out. I felt a sharp sting of pain run up my leg from the armor-piercing arrow but ignored it, just glad it hadn’t been an explosive bolt as I went to work slaughtering them, able to fly and fight as they struggled just to hold position and mount an effective defense under the superstorm’s onslaught.

To their credit, they fought well even under the severe conditions the storm offered; more than once I took a hit that marred my armor, including a surprise sword strike to my lower back from a Talon that staggered me —’twas very sloppy of me; I’d been so intent on the armored Knights in front of me that I hadn’t detected the leather-wearing Talon catching a favorable wind gust and using it to dive on me; twas sheer luck he didn’t hit my wings—but able to produce storm-force winds of my own, I was able to counter, slaying each in turn until I found myself being pelted by small hail from above. My armor and helmet protected me against it without issue, but I knew with the storm still ramping up, small hail was just the start.

As ‘twas stated before, pegasi might be weather-resistant, but ‘tis certain that does not make us magically immune to the impacts of tempest-driven hail that could reach the size of a large hoof; especially Corps soldiers wearing only light armor. We couldn’t linger out here more than a few minutes or the storm would slay us too. We had to do what damage we could, keeping the gryphons engaged before their leadership came to their senses and ordered them out, and then retreat back to the cavern. ‘Twas then, with the Knights decimated and the storm still worsening that I checked in on the efforts of Blindside’s platoon.

I could tell them apart from the Talons by my magical awareness more than my electrical one; Corps soldiers lacking metal armor as the Talons did, ‘twas their flight and weather magic that shown brightest to me. They were doing well against the Talons but had taken some casualties of their own judging by the fewer number of soldiers I sensed. And one in particular seemed to be having trouble, not able to navigate the storm that well. Methinks I wasn’t immediately certain who it was, but I could tell she was isolated from the others, only barely able to parry attacks from the half-decade of Talon soldiers that surrounded her and were trying to strike her down.

Worse, she was starting to take hits; as I recognized her distress and approached, she blocked one sword with a wingblade only for a second to impact her side and knock her askew whilst steel claws raked her flank, leaving dripping red lines on both.

She wheeled and swiftly slew the gryphon who owned the latter but then was tackled in midair by another earth gryphon Talon who began to bring his blade to her throat, and within mere moments, he would succeed. Her movements were stilted and uncertain; ‘twas that plus her uncharacteristic inability to navigate her surroundings that made me not recognize her at first, but as I got closer, my stomach clenched.

“Blindside!”I called out frantically and raced to her rescue, a fresh adrenaline surge giving me extra speed. I attacked the sword arm of the gryphon holding her first, knocking his blade free, then grabbing it in the crook of my foreleg to pull it backwards, peeling him off her and flinging him away. That accomplished, I slew the remaining Talons quickly even as Blindside didn’t quite seem to understand what was happening, forcing me to dodge a panicked slash from her!

‘Twas then I grabbed her and shook her. “Sergeant!”I yelled at her, making sure she heard my voice. “It’s me!”

“F-Firefly…?” Blindside finally recognized, and then she hugged me hard in her hover as she started sobbing, holding onto me like a lifeline. “Ma’am…” I could see her face at close range; see all the pain and fear on it. “I can’t see…” she told me shakily through her tears.

“Can’t see? What do you mean?” I asked, my voice a near-shout. I didn’t immediately take her meaning, given her one good eye looked fine and was clearly locking onto mine.

“My second sight… the storm…” She shivered in my grasp as I brought her back to her troops. “I-I can’t see anything through it… I fl-flew right into a decade… c-couldn’t get away… they were going t-to...” She broke down crying again.

‘Twas then I understood—she was saying her normally otherworldly awareness of her surroundings was ruined by the storm; she couldn’t use it when all the senses she relied upon to create it were completely saturated and overwhelmed by the combination of wind and rain, lightning and hail, leaving her very vulnerable. And very afraid. “It’s okay. I’ve got you…” I promised her as I led her back to her platoon, shouting in my blue crystal to pull back and regroup, hoping they heard me.

Fortunately, they did and broke contact quickly; I counted around thirty soldiers remaining from her platoon as they retreated out of combat and I caught up to them, meaning that they’d lost a fourth of their numbers. “Ma’am! Beg to report!” Corporal Shrike came up to me and saluted, his blades bloodied but showing some of his own blood from uniform tears over his chest where steel claws had slashed him. “Six down from 2nd and 3rd squads! We took out around forty Talons in return but they’re still pushing hard and methinks we can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” he reminded me, struggling to hold his hover in the face of the howling wind, a nearby lightning strike and its tooth-rattling BOOM! giving emphasis to his words as the strikes became more frequent.

“Agreed! Corporal Shrike, take over the platoon! Withdraw towards the cave and dispatch a flight to get Blindside into the infirmary—after confirming it’s clear of enemy forces! If it isn’t, clear it, and then station your platoon at the entrance! You will be our rear guard as the rest of the battalion makes our way to cover!” I ordered him, shouting even louder to be heard over the din; I could only pray that whatever battle was happening inside the cavern was finished and won; once the storm had intensified I’d lost contact with them due to intense lightning activity.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He saluted again. “If it’s not, we’ll clear it!”

“Good. Now go!” I directed, gently moving a bleeding and shaking Blindside towards him.

Blindside accepted the help, but not before turning around and hugging me hard once more, “Th-thank you…” she managed before departing, allowing a platoon mare to guide her; I can only imagine how it felt to her to suddenly feel like a helpless foal, stripped of her senses and all that made her such a fine warrior.

I can only too well, and ‘tis why I declined to write this section, Captain. You wouldst understand if I have no wish to relive that night and the battle beneath the storm for the sheer terror I felt within it! But methinks I will at least say this: thank you for saving me yet again, and know that my feelings for you only grew further in its wake.

—Blindside

I understand perfectly, my love. ‘Tis perchance ironic that I discovered my second sight that night even as you lost yours, but I am glad for it; for ‘tis what enabled me to find and save you!

—Firefly

As they departed to carry out their instructions, I checked in with other platoon leaders, at least the ones I could reach; aural interference from the intense lightning and static charge in the air was causing issues with our crystals—and, I’m sure, the Gryphon scrying networks. Fell Flight reported she and Stormrunner’s platoon were about to ambush a gryphon force charging in from the northwest. In contrast, Osprey was unreachable, Blue Bolt’s storm teams were now fighting as regular soldiers in flights amongst my other troops, and as for my fourth platoon, defending the southeast quadrant: “Lieutenant Snow Squall! Report!”

“This is Flight Sergeant Starling! Snow Squall’s dead, ma’am!” his first squad leader and the platoon commander he had replaced reported through audible tears. “He was leading our attack and took a direct hit from lightning! He’s gone!”

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly in pain at the news. I hadn’t known him for very long, but he had struck me as a fine stallion and officer, even fresh out of the Equestrian Officer Academy as he was. Though lacking our Guardspony-inspired training, he’d shown plenty of combat and command ability; I’d had no qualms about leaving him in charge in the absence of myself and Fell Flight when we were off leading the spoiling attack or attending the earlier parley. “Understood…” I offered up a silent prayer for him, but could spare little time to make it. “Take command, Flight Sergeant! What is your platoon’s status?”

“Fighting but faltering! We have thirteen down! The gryphons just keep coming and it’s getting harder and harder to stay in the air! We took out a couple turmas, but the hail’s getting worse and the Knights are wrapping around our flank!” Even grief-stricken as she was over the loss of their stallion leader, she was still a soldier and recited their situation quickly. “They’re massing in the clear air south of the storm! We’re being pushed back and if we don’t get out of here, we’ll get crushed and in another minute our only escape route will be right under the wall cloud, ma’am!”

I swore under my breath, knowing that likely meant a death sentence to see the lowering and rapidly spinning cloud base to my right through which glitters of growing hail could be seen in lightning strikes. Our plan had thus far worked; our efforts combined with the superstorm overhead had inflicted grievous losses, but with the storm nearing maturity, we were running out of time. “Withdraw your platoon towards the cavern, Flight Sergeant! Get your wounded inside the vault and help Shrike keep our escape route to it open!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” she called out as I called Shrike again to advise him to watch out for incoming friendly forces.

“Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt! Where are you?” I asked next, switching crystal frequencies.

“Here, ma’am!” To my relief, I got a quick answer. “Currently stationed with Blindside’s platoon defending the vault entrance!”

“Sergeant, you know the skies better than me! How long before the storm spawns a tornado?”

There was a pause as he appraised the situation. “At this rate, methinks it might not, ma’am! The storm’s flanking line is still weak!” he said, referring to a trailing front of stepped cumulus congestus clouds behind the mesocyclone that fed into the storm’s main body, continually powering it. “That means we’re not getting a strong rear flank downdraft, and without it? No tornado! And methinks the storm’s going to start running out of moisture soon! Once it does, the downdrafts weaken and odds of tornado formation go way down! We’ll also lose our cover of rain!”

I swore again, which was unusual for me. ‘Twas within our capability to build a tornado on our own, but ‘twould require the entire battalion to generate one strong enough for our purposes and if the storm structure was not able to support it, ‘twould fall apart once we fled—if it didn’t turn on us before that. For our final plan to work, we needed the storm to produce a large tornado on its own within five minutes, but without a full pegasi platoon to provide the final push to make it do so naturally, it wasn’t going to happen.

The storm needed more help. But most of my troops were engaged or falling back; by rough count we’d already taken nearly forty casualties and that number was only going to go up the longer we stayed out there, fighting beneath the storm. Yet if we simply broke contact and headed for our redoubt, the storm would not produce its ultimate weapon and we’d be left vulnerable to attack, especially as the storm’s low pressure occluded and drew back into its main mass, uncovering our base. But it would take at least an entire platoon of pegasi to make a difference, and the only platoon unaccounted for was…

“Ma’am! Beg to report!” My train of thought was broken as I suddenly heard Fell Flight’s voice through my crystal, though the sound of it was distorted by the storm. “Osprey’s platoon is missing and Stormrunner’s platoon got hit from behind and has lost half its strength! We were forced to break contact and retreat back towards the vault! We can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” she reminded me.

My guts clenched, wondering if Osprey’s platoon, which was stationed in the area of the flanking line, had been ambushed and overwhelmed in the clear air beside the storm. “Copy that! Take position near the watchtower and interdict any attempt to flank Blindside’s platoon, which is holding position at the entrance!” I told her, then switched aural frequencies so I would be broadcasting to every communication crystal within range, including the building-mounted outpost ones, which dutifully picked up my transmission and boomed my voice throughout the base, just audible over the continuous rumble of thunder and violent winds that were now whipping back and forth.

“Flight Sergeant Osprey!”I shouted into my red gem, praying she was still alive and could hear me through the companion crystal in her possession. “If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”

With my sincerest apologies, commander, I did hear you, but we were otherwise engaged at that moment, and I could not grab at the gem on my belt.

Greetings, readers. I am Aves Osprey. After nearly forty years in the Corps and countless engagements spanning not just the war itself but one or more decades on either side of it, I still marvel at the fact I survived it all and now bear the rank of Colonel, currently commanding the Corps Canterlot garrison and perchance in line to become Commanding Corps General someday. ‘Tis a far cry from the young mare with a domineering mother who hated authority and blamed her frustrations on everypony except herself with great regularity.

Perchance ‘twas why I joined the Corps. I, like Fell Flight, needed to find productive outlets for my fighting blood and desired to find a cause I could serve. I found it there, though in my case, it took several years and methinks more than a few fights and duels before I finally understood that I was there to serve others and not myself. 'Twas due to such attitude issues that my progress through the ranks was initially quite slow, but I eventually settled into a position of platoon leader. Rapid advancement for me happened during the war, as it did for so many; veteran soldiers were needed to train the newer ones and I soon found myself in such a role.

I will not discuss my initial issues with Gavian except to say they are long resolved and he did not deserve my hatred. Perchance ‘twas simply another manifestation of my tendency to blame others for the ills of my life; perchance ‘twas just that I made him the focal point for all my frustrations as I’d done with others in the past, including Fell Flight. But either way, methinks ‘twas not until he bested me and then spared me in a death duel that I truly matured into the soldier and warrior I became.

But that story is already told in the previous volume, and methinks I prefer not to dwell on it now. Perchance one day I will relate more of my tale, but ‘tis not the time here. I pick up the quill for the first time in this story at the Captain’s invitation, and leave her and the others to get some much needed sleep. In truth, Fell Flight and I are now the only ones to remain active at this late hour, the former to no surprise.

Perchance what is surprising is that the two of us collaborate for the remaining parts of this chapter, sharing experiences and editing each other’s work. ‘Tis a far cry from our initial hostile feelings towards each other, as I relentlessly hazed her when she was but a hatchling, as the Corps calls new soldiers fresh out of basic. But she later paid me back for it ‘in spades’ as they say, when she jumped ranks over me just two years later.

—Colonel Aves Osprey
Commander, 1st Division
Corps Canterlot Brigade
Canterlot

Into the Storm: Main Track

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Southwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

As the storm erupted and the gryphons struck, methinks my platoon actually had the easiest time of it.

We were stationed to defend the southwest quadrant, to the rear of the storm and far enough away from the main shaft that we actually had some clear air to work with and more manageable winds. The storm was still in its explosive growth stage, and within a minute had hit the top of the troposphere to begin fanning out into a characteristic anvil shape; bulbous mammatus clouds starting to protrude from the anvil’s bottom.

‘Twasn’t long before hail started falling from its upper reaches and began pelting us, though the stones were small to start; rain did not reach us yet as the main downdrafts were on the front of the storm and the rear flank ones would take some time to get started.

My time spent as a ‘Cyclone’, or Storm Corporal, on a weather team back at Omega had served me well.

“Omega! On me!” I shouted to my platoon of Outpost Omega veterans as several gryphon centuries came into view; as the fog cleared and they beheld the monster we had created, I saw the lead Talons falter, begging their commanders to turn back.

Perchance they remembered the losses they had suffered in Gamma’s superstorm strike against Raptor base back in January, as retaliation for repeated Empire-sponsored raider attacks on Epsilon. But instead of heeding their warnings, the Knights ordered them forward, and though frightened (as well they should have been!), they obeyed, even as lightning began forking out through the air, striking the ground and, ‘tis certain, threatening to strike us all down.

There were ways to mitigate that, however. “Omega! Discard your helmets or their metal might attract bolts! And loosen your formations! Don’t fly too close to each other or ‘tis certain a single bolt might take out several at once! Now follow me!” I said into my blue gem, appraising the situation, then ordering my three squads to retreat back into just inside the storm’s main tower, hiding us from view.

We watched as the first hints of the flanking line began to form; a line of arcing cumulus reaching out from the storm’s rear as the warm air was undercut by the downdraft wrapping around the storm. We were buffeted by the latter, certainly, and the air was quite turbulent, but manageable at the outer edge of the storm.

Unlike the main storm, the flanking line that fed it was not dangerous to start, excepting the possibility of a landspout or two forming beneath it, as its updrafts were both gentle and easily ridden. We waited until the gryphons had neared—’tis certain they knew we were there and their commanders placed the several decades of Knights above the Talons, waiting to receive us should we suddenly reappear—before beginning our move. Their intent was clear enough; they would use the Knights to hold and weaken us whilst the Talons swept around to envelop us. Ragged raiders ‘tis certain they were not; these were trained soldiers who understood us and the tactics to use against us well.

But so were we, and methinks I wasn’t going to oblige them. My own experience and tactical skill was hard-learned; it had taken me nearly eight years to rise through the ranks at Omega just to make Flight Sergeant, which, I will note as she reads this beside me, Fell Flight took but two to reach.

As the stepped but still-shallow cumulus of the flanking line reached out a mile from the main cloud tower, we set out directly through it on my orders, following its gentle arc further out from the storm until we had passed the main gryphon formation and the Knights that were trying to shield them.

‘Twas my original intent to slash out from its base and ambush the Talons from behind before retreating back into the main storm area, but then…

“Ma’am! Look!”One of my squad leaders shouted. I turned to where she was pointing, and ‘twas then I noticed something through the frequent lightning flashes:

Following the main attack force and above the level of the flanking line was a smaller group of gryphons, including a Talon eagless in full chest armor and cape, whose shoulder insignia was that of a single eagle metal feather, gleaming bright in the electrically lit-up night.

A Tribune! By her rank alone, ‘twas likely she was second in command of the legion we faced. She was gaping at the storm and calling somewhat frantically into an odd contraption which I guessed was some kind of communication device; perchance trying to recall her forces before our supercell claimed them.

But the storm interfered with their scrying network as much as our dragonfire-based crystal communications, and she couldn’t seem to get through to whoever she was contacting, judging by her fearful tone.

She was flanked by around twenty others, a mixture of higher-ranked Talons and Knights, who were likewise trying and failing to reach their respective forces. In any event, ‘twas a command group that we had stumbled upon, and thus, a priority target. In any event, we did not want their attack to be recalled, and they were but fifty yards from the cloud top, so methinks my next decision was quite easy.

“Omega! Strike!”I ordered as I burst out of the cloud and my platoon followed, surging up towards them. For those that wonder, I called them Omega because that’s how we thought of ourselves, even after nearly nine months at Epsilon. For the heavy fighting and losses we oft bore the brunt of whilst stationed at Equestria’s most dangerous border base, those who served at Omega tended to identify with it even long after they left. Such it was for us, and methinks ‘twas doubly a rallying cry for us given we knew Outpost Omega was unlikely to survive the night.

Neither were we, I well knew, but as I said when we discussed surrender—’twas not even worthy of consideration for me or anypony else in my veteran platoon—if our sisters at Omega were fighting and dying, then we could do no less. My call into my blue command gem caused heads to turn from above, but ‘twas already too late. We shot out of the growing cumulus and were on them in seconds, and I took the Tribune for myself.

They were just able to draw their weapons but, hovering as they were, they were not able to set a proper defense or get in sufficient motion; methinks I took great pleasure in the surprise and sheer terror I saw on their Tribune’s face as I knocked her barely-drawn blade aside and then took off her wings with a sweeping slash on their upswing, hearing her shriek of agony and holding onto her by her foreleg for just a second to lock eyes with her and smile sweetly, ripping off her shoulder insignia as a trophy before dropping her to her death.

Perchance the modern pony might think this needlessly cruel. But quarter was never asked or offered in any fight we’d been through against raiders at Omega, and thus ‘twould be the same here. The rest of my platoon likewise made the most of their surprise and took out the bulk of their leadership in short order, though a half-dozen earth gryphon Knights and Talons survived by going back to back. They succeeded in taking out two of my platoon, putting us down six counting the losses we’d suffered in the earlier actions that day.

Mayhap we could have stayed to wipe them out out of sheer vengeance, and but a year or two earlier, perchance I would have ordered us to do so. But though it had taken me a few years to understand the true meaning of duty and appraise situations properly, I now could, and thus I ordered my platoon back into the cover of the flanking line before they could summon reinforcements from below.

The cloud formation wasn’t growing as fast as it should have, but we could still use it to track back towards the main storm tower and engage the century or three of soldiers that got past us—if, that was, the storm combined with Fell Flight and Stormrunner’s platoon hadn’t already annihilated them, I thought hopefully to myself, pulling my red gem to call to them only to find that due to the storm, I could no longer reach them.

I admit to a little annoyance now, Osprey. Perchance you might have at least informed us before you struck as to what you were doing and to expect an attack from the left? They ended up ambushing us, you know!

—Fell Flight

With apologies, First Lieutenant, but ‘twas our original intention to engage them ourselves, whittling them down via ambush before falling back towards you. That changed when we saw the command group. Time was pressing and the opportunity was there, so I took it, and by the time I was able to call you, I could no longer.

—Osprey

Well. Perchance I might accept that, except your tenure at Omega was oft marked by sloppiness and failure to inform others of your intentions! Methinks more than once did your squad or platoon go out of contact in raider engagements. And methinks more than once were you upbraided over it, both by me and by Windshear!

—Fell Flight

As unmincing with words as ever, I see. And yet, I stand before you not just a veteran, but a Colonel now, having survived the war and even commanded a battalion of my own before the conflict was done. So ‘twould seem I did learn. In any event, as the fighting now shifts to you and I would not receive the call from the Captain for a few minutes more, perchance you should take up the story from here?

—Osprey

Perchance I will. Greetings, readers. If you read the first book, you know me and my story well, and I feel no need to recount it here, even though the Captain wishes this volume written such that new readers do not need to study the previous one. But as she is not here to direct me differently—perchance that is something we do have in common, Osprey—I will proceed with the story of the battle involving myself and Stormrunner’s platoon.

—Fell Flight

Dimmu Borgir - Alt Lys Er Svunnet Hen (2006 remake)

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Northwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

To me, the superstorm exploding skyward over our heads and threatening to slay us all was not a monster, but a creation of greatest beauty.

An elegant instrument of destruction only pegasi could make or fight effectively within, ‘twas both invigorating and exhilarating to be out in the middle of, though I admit ‘twas certain I was given some pause when the first downdrafts struck us and I felt myself being buffeted, having a hard time holding formation and flight. And that was to say nothing of the massive—and very dangerous—static charge in the air; a point flown home when a bolt struck dangerously near; the shock wave of its passing staggering me and leaving me momentarily deafened while the faint tinge of ozone crossed my nose and tongue.

But we had a job to do and a trap to spring as the first sheets of rain began to fall, starting in the northeast quadrant of the storm where the commander was with Blindside’s platoon and then working slowly backwards around the periphery, though the main updraft remained clear for now.

That would change within minutes, though ‘twould not be rain falling from there—’twould be progressively larger hail, and to get too close to its base would be lethal even to pegasi, as ‘twould seem at least one gryphon century discovered quickly according to the Captain’s earlier account. The fog nearly gone, sucked up into the storm, we got a glimpse of a large formation of gryphons charging in from the northeast before the rain hid them—and us—from view again, their armor gleaming and glittering in the lightning strikes going through the cloud.

Since she failed to mention this before, perchance out of sleeplessness or distraction, I must explain that ‘twas the Captain’s plan—and here, I must note that though she was not a Captain at this moment, ‘tis still the way I always think of her—that we use the opening minutes of the storm to draw them in towards the updraft whilst we could still fight beneath it, using its elemental assault of wind, hail and lightning combined with our ability to (initially) fight effectively beneath it to whittle down their numbers before the storm matured.

Once it did and just before it turned tornadic, we would retreat to the bunker and let whatever monster vortex it generated destroy the gryphons following us, then wait out the storm from cover. And afterwards…?

Well. If there was an afterwards, whatever was left of us would make our final stand in the cavern, defending the vault doors. ‘Twould not avail us in the end, of course, but we could at least die knowing we inflicted far worse than we took, perchance crippling a legion.

For Cloudsdale and for all Equestria, that would have to be enough.

* * * * *

Unlike Snow Squall’s and Blindside’s platoons, we were not engaged right away.

Their formations and the storm itself initially concealed in the fog, they had not seen what we were building before it was too late. As midnight was reached, gryphons charged in from low altitude from multiple directions, and I saw some hesitation from their lead formations just before they were obscured.

“Should we go after them?” Stormrunner asked, the lightning throwing a greenish cast over his gold armor as the first small pings of hailstones were heard against it.

I appreciated his deference to me; even though we were equal in rank, and he could even make a claim to be over me by virtue of his title of Celestial Guardspony, he never asserted it. He simply accepted his place in the Corps chain of command, which subordinated him not just to the commander, but to me as her second.

“Aye,” I replied after a brief pause and a thin smile, appraising the situation just as I had countless times before during raider engagements at Omega. My own tactical skill had come from experience and from the lessons of Thunderbolt before that, who was my mentor just as Windshear was the Captain’s.

“We do not want them to decide to depart before the storm gets a chance to consume them. 2nd platoon! On me!” I called into my blue gem, and Stormrunner’s squads formed up as best they could under the increasingly chaotic winds, keeping their formations loose and more widely spaced than normal at his orders to guard against what I’d once heard Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt term “splash damage” from lightning strikes into our midst.

Truly, there were times I thought the odd ‘Ogres and Oubliettes’ games he and his stallion-heavy storm teams favored playing during their off hours had gone to their heads, but his meaning was clear enough.

Still, as we set out towards the gryphon formations which had disappeared from sight about three hundred yards away, our own visibility was limited to perchance a sixth of that as the driving rain picked up, their sheets turned an odd shade of green in the barely-muted flashes of lightning that was forking through the cloud with greater frequency—or perchance ‘twas just my implanted light-dimming crystal lenses that imparted that effect; a result of the slightly bluish tint the sapphire crystals cast over everything.

I’d had them implanted to allow me to fight and see as effectively in the day as in night, but my ‘superlative’ night vision, as I’ve heard Corps eye doctors describe it as, did me little good here when ‘twas a struggle to see much in front of my nose.

What did me more good was the experience that came from a score or more of raider engagements and the training of my mentor. “Master Sergeant! Take 1st and 3rd squads in directly! I’ll head high with 2nd squad to try and ambush them from above once their attention is on you!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He gave the standard Corps acknowledgment of an order I could just hear over the roar of the storm, calling his first two squads to him whilst I did the same for the third. Our blue command gems gave our voices just enough range to be heard over the din by squad leaders, and their subordinates who had not heard simply followed them.

‘Twas a good plan, but as I took 2nd squad into just inside the cloud base to hide our approach whilst the Master Sergeant struck the incoming century from below, ‘twas quickly thwarted by a sudden call that he was under attack—not from ahead, but from behind!

We reversed our course immediately whilst I instructed Stormrunner to fire a red flare so we could see where he was. A brave and bold Talon Century had indeed struck him in his left rear flank—no innuendo intended to the former Master Sergeant—and in a reversal of what was supposed to be us ambushing them, he reported they’d lost six soldiers almost immediately to a volley of close range crossbow bolts and sword strikes.

Suddenly wondering where Osprey’s platoon had disappeared to and why they had failed to cover our flank—methinks I swore to buck her flank all the way to Mosclaw if she had gone off on her own again!—I attempted to carry out an ambush against the new group, only to all but collide with a turma of Knights who’d been anticipating the tactic and shielding the Talons from above.

Methinks they were surprised as we were and the battle quickly degenerated into a rather ugly melee, illuminated in strobe light fashion by the frequent lightning strikes that would have dazzled my thestral vision without my protective lenses. Indeed, methinks I said a silent thank-you to Iris Aid, the healer who had invented and implanted them into my eyes, more than once that night.

We could barely see or hold position as we engaged them blade to blade as best we could, though the storm proved our ally by sending a lightning bolt into their midst, striking one of their Knights and then partially deflecting off her enchanted armor, branching out like a scattershot strike I’d seen our storm teams practice to find half a dozen other large metal bodies, which were almost uniformly Knight armor.

The powerful bolt—’tis worth noting that the bolts these superstorms produced were far stronger than naturally occurring ones, coming from military-grade pegasus storm clouds as they were—only slew the directly struck gryphon, whilst their enchanted armor saved the rest…

But only momentarily. They were all staggered by the electrical blow, their muscles convulsing for a moment, and though we were not unaffected—I felt an electric current go through me for a moment and at least one of Stormrunner’s platoon took a hit to her steel-helmeted head, sending her lifeless to the ground—our weather magic meant we could recover quicker.

And thus we did, as the earth gryphon Fortis Knight wearing the shoulder insignia of a Decurio—rather unusual to see them fighting in the air like this!—who’d been fighting me to a standstill found himself suddenly unable to defend himself; accidentally dropping his axe. I took immediate advantage and attacked his face, blinding him with a slash to his eyes and following that up with a downward strike to the exposed back of his head as it slumped forward, getting through his thin rear armor and severing his spine.

He fell dead whilst around me, 2nd squad was having mixed success. By my rough count we’d taken out a decade or so of Knights thanks to the lightning and their inability to fight at full strength or speed beneath the storm, but lost three of our own in the dangerously chaotic environment, and I quickly realized if we didn’t break contact the score or more that remained would likely overwhelm us; doubly so if the Talons should suddenly reappear.

My worst fears were realized when the force we’d originally targeted caught up to us, threatening to crush the platoon between their two groups. I shouted orders into my blue gem to escape back to the roiled cloud base despite the danger, but I then heard a shouted Aeric order in return reciting my words back in the gryphon tongue and telling his forces not to allow it—clearly, there was at least one Knight who spoke Equish in their mix!

“Their leader is ordering them to escape into the clouds! Eagle group! Come in high and do NOT let them withdraw or regroup! Cut them off, close in and KILL THEM ALL!” he ordered to my consternation, thinking both that the raider groups we dealt with at Omega would not be so brave or stupid as to continue combat under these conditions, knowing that even if they slew us, the storm would likely slay them!

‘Twas then I heard Stormrunner’s voice, leaving me in some relief he was still alive and had heard the call, knowing enough Aeric to recognize the enemy order and its proper counter. “Platoon! Break contact! Dive for the deck!” he ordered even though I was the ranking pony present, but ‘twas the right tactic so I did not countermand it, leading 3rd squad, now down a third its numbers, after him. We escaped with some difficulty, cutting a swath through the second group of Talons to do it but taking even more casualties in the process; when we broke out into the slightly clearer air below, I could see we were down to just over half strength with a dozen or more pegasus bodies littering the ground below along with two score of gryphons.

I closed my eyes briefly in prayer to the moon goddess. We’d taken plenty of casualties over the years at Omega, including thirty in a day once during the battle that Windshear had won his first Defender of Harmony award in. But this…?

If our losses were this bad; methinks I didn’t even want to think what the other platoons or outposts had suffered this day. We fanned out low over the base only to get buffeted by strengthening headwinds and larger hail the closer we got to the main updraft tower; its swirling and lowered wall cloud now clearly visible and ominous to the point that even the gryphons knew from sight alone to avoid it.

“Master Sergeant! I can’t contact the commander!” Stormrunner reported, showing me his small but non-working red command gem that was supposed to be linked to Firefly’s. “We can’t take another fight like that, ma’am!”

“I know…” I told him, pulling my own gem, which was larger and more powerful since I was second in command and had to have the same ability as my future Captain to command troops should she suddenly fall.

“Let me try mine! Ma’am! Beg to report!”I shouted into my command ruby crystal after we’d gotten some distance, hoping its greater magic and range meant she could hear me, even over the ever-more-violent storm. “Osprey’s platoon is missing and Stormrunner’s platoon has lost half its strength! We were forced to break contact and retreat back towards the vault! We can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” I reminded her, watching as a lightning bolt struck the vacated outpost watchtower, blasting a hole in its side and sending wood and stone fragments flying in every direction, some of the former on fire despite the heavy rain wrapping around the edges of the updraft. The rest of the buildings already had some of their windows blown out by the intense winds, though the walls and roofs still held for now.

“Copy that! Hold position near the watchtower and interdict any attempt to flank Blindside’s platoon, which is holding position at the vault entrance!” the harried voice came back, and then I heard it come again as she tapped into the base crystal array, her voice booming out, broadcasting basewide and, as she said, to every command crystal within range:

“Flight Sergeant Osprey! If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”

Again, my apologies for not replying, Captain, and for leaving Stormrunner’s platoon hanging before that. Though perchance my subsequent actions made up for it?

—Aves Osprey

Devil’s Work

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Southwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0008 hours

I admit to having a sinking feeling in my stomach when I heard Stormrunner’s badly distorted call that he was under attack from what was likely the same force we had let go. My response that we were doubling back went unanswered, and ‘twas then I wondered if I’d just made a grave mistake.

Though ‘twas certain I could justify my actions by virtue of the command group we’d stumbled upon and slaughtered, methinks my first thought was indeed that Fell Flight would likely slay me for once again going off on my own and leaving Stormrunner vulnerable, if she was still alive afterwards and the Commander didn’t kill me for the same reason first. Methinks the former is correct in that I’d had the habit of going off after other targets at Omega and not informing others of my intentions.

But somehow, it always seemed the right thing to do at the time, and recriminations could wait. For now, ‘twas certain all we could do was try to rush back and ambush the force that ambushed them.

As we backtracked through the still-flaccid flanking line—I thought I might have seen a weak dust swirl on the ground below in one of the lightning flashes but had no time to check if ‘twas a landspout we might be able to use against any enemy pursuit—I saw other gryphon formations closing in around me; having perchance received the panicked calls of the command group that we were upon them. But they arrived too late to help, and did not see us. We, on the other hoof, needed to be able to see where we were going, so I ordered us to drop just below the level of the cloud so we could spot the force hitting Stormrunner’s flank in front of us.

Methinks I was not encouraged when I didn’t see them and aural interference increased to the point that I could not only not reach them, but I could no longer hear them. Looking around, I saw at least one instance where a mage shot some kind of spell into the cloud base only for it to backfire on her; the cloud erupted with lightning which lanced down all around her and struck down not just her, but several of her comrades.

The sparks then propagated upwards and outwards throughout the cloud, emerging out the top as anvil crawlers. The lightning ceased for only a few seconds before friction within the cloud from the strong updrafts and downdrafts quickly regenerated the storm’s static charge, and the bolts began flashing again.

We’d just about made it back to the main storm body when we ran headlong into the remains of a gryphon century retreating out of the cloud; methinks they were just as surprised to see us as we were them; and we soon found ourselves engaged with them.

Though this fight took place in clear air just outside the main cloud tower; they were exhausted by fighting both Stormrunner’s forces and the storm, whilst we were still relatively fresh and dealt with them easily, dropping another thirty before they hid in the clouds again. We were just finishing them off with the loss of another two soldiers when the Captain’s call came through, barely intelligible through the storm:

“Flight Sergeant Osprey! If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”

‘Twas nearly twenty seconds before we had broken contact and I could attempt a reply, only to find that once again, I could not get through. All I could do was attempt to follow orders and hope the gryphons would not attack us as our instructions required us to operate outside the storm, in the clear air behind and above the flanking line.

* * * * *

Before I continue, a brief weather lesson is in order, one I hope might be worthy of Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt himself:

For those who are unaware, the flanking line is basically a trailing front of clouds formed by plunging air from the atmosphere’s middle levels—the rear flank downdraft—wrapping around the back of the storm and undercutting the more moist surface air it encounters, forcing it upwards and producing progressively larger cumulus congestus clouds the closer to the main storm body it gets.

The size of the flanking line ‘tis oft a measure of the supercell’s likelihood of producing a tornado, as the parent rotation cannot be brought to the ground without a strong downdraft wrapping into the mesocyclone—the storm’s low pressure area—from the rear, tightening and stretching the circulation vertically.

‘Twas our task, therefore, to produce and enhance that downdraft, which was only weak to that point, perchance because of feeble mid-level winds—not too surprising this close to Equestria, where natural weather patterns are suppressed. With more time, we could have provided that wind ourselves at the outset and gave the storm a push with it in the direction we wished it to go, but with only ten minutes to spare creating it, we barely had enough time to build the main storm structure and hope it would tap into enough natural wind for the task.

Unfortunately, and perchance fatally for us if we could not get a large twister to cover our retreat and sweep the base of gryphons before they could storm our weakened formations in the cavern, it did not. So that left it up to my platoon, still thirty-five strong. I did not then know the fate of the other platoons or what was going on elsewhere beneath the storm; nor had I heard a thing about the vault battle aside from the initial call that one was happening.

In any event, it mattered not. “Omega! It’s up to us! On me!”I ordered again after quickly passing word to my squads, sparing but a moment’s thought for our sisters at our former home, wondering if Outpost Omega still stood or if any still lived. And ‘twas indeed a sisterhood, methinks it bares repeating again, for those of us who served there; just being there six months entitled you to a special award and I belong to a society of surviving Omega veterans to this day.

We surged upwards just inside the storm tower, using its peripheral updrafts to soar skyward, into the atmosphere’s middle levels, climbing four thousand feet in the space of two minutes on its strength added to that of our wings. Normally we’d prefer a bit more height, but there was no time.

Turning on our wings, we burst out of the clouds into the clear air at that altitude; somewhat to my relief I saw no nearby gryphons as the landscape around us was illuminated clearly by continuous lightning—perchance the gryphon magus had learned their lesson about trying to use their lightning release spell on the cloud after their first had killed its caster?—and we fanned ourselves out to a distance of about a mile from the main storm shaft. We took position behind and above the flanking line, being pelted by hail now falling from the storm’s expansive anvil, which was stretching nearly to the horizon in every direction; neither the Mare in the Moon nor twinkling stars could be seen.

Again, if we could take our time with this and had sufficient numbers? Methinks we’d use at least a hundred pegasi for the job packed in over that distance, starting from higher altitude. But ‘twas time and numbers we did not have; every moment we wasted was one more in which the gryphons pressed in on our own battered base and forces. We were also putting ourselves in grave danger by operating in the clear like that; should another turma or two of Knights see us—and as our fur dye was white against a night backdrop, ‘twas a distinct possibility given gryphon night vision—we were dead, but perchance the glittering hail falling would camouflage us.

And perchance it did, as by Celestia’s grace, we were not attacked in the next minute. I had a storm team of four pegasi attached to my platoon—also Omega veterans; to little surprise they had asked to join my platoon for what we assumed would be our last stand—fighting as airborne infantry like the rest of us in the absence of storm clouds to fight with, so I ordered them to take command of the effort, functioning as squad leaders. They in turn ordered us into four elongated cone formations spaced a quarter mile apart, ones designed to mutually reinforce pegasi wind magic, and then, we took the literal plunge.

We pulled the air with us as we flew, our wings grabbing it and dragging it behind us as we increased speed, aiming ourselves to pass at a high angle beneath the flanking line’s flat cloud base, going nearly to ground before flattening out. I felt the rush of the air grow around me to the point I could no longer hear anything, including any additional orders that might have been given through my gem by the Commander as our plunging speed reached one hundred, then two hundred miles per hour.

We set more and more air in motion as we passed beneath the flanking line, and as we neared ground, I chanced a look back over my shoulder to see that our efforts were indeed having the desired effect. I saw the cumulus of the line begin to bulge up nicely as more air was forced up and into them from below, looking far more healthy from it.

We then veered back towards the base and the main storm body, trying to turn its newly enhanced winds inward toward the circulation. We passed by a few startled groups of grounded or airborne earth gryphons at several points, who were immediately bowled over by the hurricane blast of our passing, but even if they knew our intent, ‘twas nothing they could do to stop it.

For we had already succeeded in our task, and we continued to ride our new gust front all the way back, not to enhance it any longer but simply to use it to speed our return to friendly lines and our final redoubt. Hoping we were now close enough for a transmission to get through, I called into my red gem again to announce our success and imminent approach, warning the commander that the battalion should take cover immediately, but again received no reply. ‘Twas difficult to see the mesocyclone over the desert dust our own winds had kicked up, but at that moment, the fate of the gryphons—and perchance ourselves—was sealed.

And Captain, if I may ask, why are you up again? Methinks you left for bed scarcely two hours ago.

With apologies to you this time, Colonel, I couldn’t sleep and perchance my worries are getting the best of me again. ‘Tis nearly sunrise anyway, and I normally rise at dawn as a matter of course. Some military ponies simply never shake the habit of reveille even long past their careers. ‘Twill be awhile before I can see father again, so methinks I will review your writings and perchance finish off this chapter.

I see that you and Fell Flight have written much in my absence. To answer your question, yes, I admit I was ready to come down on you hard for going out of contact without explanation, but ‘twould seem you had good reason, spotting who I can only assume was the Tribune we’d had the earlier parley with along with a plethora of other commanders.

I still think you could have spared at least a few seconds to attempt contact of Stormrunner or Fell Flight to announce your intentions, which would have allowed them to expect a second force from your side, but in your place, methinks I would have fretted about losing the chance or having reinforcements show up should I delay.

Wind beneath the clouds at this point. I thank both you and Fell Flight for contributing so much to this tale, telling the sides of it I cannot. ‘Tis now time for me to finish this chapter, as methinks ‘twill give both me and father when I later read it to him some ongoing distraction. In the meantime, I grant you both leave to get breakfast from the cafeteria.

And Fell Flight? Perchance you could leave at least a few mangos for the rest of us this time?

—Firefly

No promises, Captain!

—Fell Flight

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Central Area
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0015 hours

‘Tis said that of all combat actions a military force is required to perform, a fighting retreat is the most difficult one.

Methinks I was learning the truth of that statement quickly as I attempted to manage one through violent winds and still-growing hail, which was increasingly replacing the rain as the storm’s primary precipitation, either due to a strengthening updraft or the storm’s expected transition to a low-precipitation supercell as its fog-fed moisture supply ran out.

‘Twas a chaotic fight; very difficult to keep any semblance of control over at times, and to their credit, the gryphons were doing their best—and perchance worst—against us even given the severe impediments they were operating under. To their great credit, they had not faltered, even staring the superstorm and their own heavy losses in the face; they continued to press forward despite the lightning strikes picking them off one by one and the progressively larger hail pummeling them.

We were being pressed by numbers approaching a rough cohort, attempting to hem us into a smaller and smaller area whilst we tried to hold them back long enough for the storm to unleash its final surprise. But the supercell was still showing no signs of generating a tornado from its rotating wall cloud; the gryphons were now in perfect position for one, but without it?

Without it, methinks we had but minutes to live; even if we retreated to the vault now, they’d come hard on our hooves and charge in with us, denying us our redoubt. Their numbers would tell against my increasingly battered battalion, and then ‘twould be all over.

‘Twas then my command gem lit up and vibrated to announce a transmission, and methinks I might have heard Osprey’s voice over the crackling interference and very loud wind noise in the background. “Osprey?” I shouted back into it. “Where the hay ARE you?”

To my frustration, she went on as if she hadn’t heard me. “Ma’a… if you can… we’re on our… was successf… rear fl… inbound... take cover!” By Harmony or perchance the simple fact that she was getting closer, the last two words came through loud and clear along with a sudden hurricane rush of warm, dry wind at ground level as opposed to the cold rain-generated downdrafts of the storm’s forward flank, turning inward towards the main circulation. It reacted instantly, visibly strengthening and stretching from the added inflow.

‘Twas then I felt my ears pop and, knowing what it meant, methinks I instantly upgraded my intentions towards Osprey from kill to commend.

Tornado Warning

“All platoons! Break contact! Retreat to the vault now!” I shouted into my red and blue command gems at once, praying to be heard over the loud and growing roar as the circulation gathered strength and a small dust swirl beneath the base of the wall cloud quickly grew into a larger one, an initially needlelike funnel quickly expanding into a trunk just off the western end of the outpost.

With the magnitude of the downdraft wrapping into it, feeding it from below, it had now the fuel and inflow to strengthen and widen further, and did so, quickly surpassing half a mile in width. But its influence was felt far beyond that; I felt its winds and suction already tugging at me even in its immature stage, and ‘twas all I could do to make my way to shelter.

Not everypony was so lucky as several of Osprey’s returning platoon were unable to escape the pull of what I would guess were its 250-mph winds, visibly screaming as they were sucked into the circulation along with dozens and then hundreds of gryphon soldiers from above and below.

The earth gryphons that had proven surprisingly formidable in aerial combat fared the worst; their wings were simply not strong enough to escape the suction, whilst about half the sky gryphons belonging to the mingled cohort were likewise all but inhaled by the monster vortex, which now took a wedge shape from the lowered cloudbase, its horrifically large and churning mass both backlit and illuminated from within by lightning, carving a swath right across the edge of our base and the canyon itself.

I was forced to watch as our watchtower and most of our base buildings fell to its force, crumbling before it, though by luck or happenstance, the walls of our two-story headquarters building including my stateroom survived a glancing blow with nothing more than blown-out windows and a ripped-off roof. Standing guard before the vault entrance with Shrike’s platoon, I waited as long as I dared for stragglers to come in—which did include two of Osprey’s platoon who got sucked up and then miraculously thrown back out, both badly battered and bleeding, flayed alive by the vortex and barely able to fly—I ordered the Vault doors closed.

Using their innate magic to anchor themselves to the Earth itself, the six remaining members of our earth pony maintenance crew pushed the large metal doors shut against the wind, helped somewhat by levitation spells from our healer team—who, I was shocked to see, had been reduced by half. I wondered why Still Way wasn’t helping only to see him lying exhausted on the ground following his duel with not one but two gryphon mages, who I could likewise see lying dead along with a score of gryphon and diamond dog corpses.

I didn’t know what had happened during the battle there, and I couldn’t consider the question or look for Gavian just then. Instead, my gut clenched when I saw a wounded Shrike struggling to hold on against the wind—he’d taken a crossbow bolt to the hip but was still at his post, commanding the rear guard I’d given him, but he no longer had the strength to fight the wind and his frantic platoon mares couldn’t reach him as he began to be sucked backwards towards near-certain death.

Ignoring pleas to halt, I went out after him, taking the full force of the hurricane gale and then yanking him forward. Methinks I just managed to pull him inside before the Vault doors closed with a resounding CLANG!, sealing us away from the superstorm and leaving the gryphons to their fate.

‘Twas only then as I looked around that I saw our sharply reduced ranks, and realized how many of my own forces had fallen.

‘Twas only then I wondered if we had truly won anything and if the cost to my base and battalion was worth it.

If I may say, very well-written, Captain. I have brought you breakfast, including some of that new Zebrican ‘coffee’ import you so seem to favor, and yes, I did even leave you some mangos. Methinks if I have any regrets in this life, ‘tis that I did not discover their joys sooner!

—Fell Flight

Thank you, First Lieutenant. I know you prefer to be called Emissary now, but methinks Lieutenant is simply the way I always think of you for as long as you stood at my right hoof. You served as my second in some capacity for the better part of two decades and never sought to be more than that despite the fact that you had more than ample opportunity to receive a permanent command of your own.

—Firefly

Because ‘tis certain I knew in my heart my place was at your side, Captain, and when it came down to it, methinks I wanted to be there. You were the best commander I ever had, and thus I gladly served as your second. Methinks I can give you no higher a compliment than that.

—Fell Flight

Considering you were once under the command of Windshear himself, methinks that is high compliment indeed! I thank you for the honor and trust you showed me for all those years and thank you in return for seeing fit to stay with me, for ‘tis certain many of my accomplishments were only possible due to your presence. Methinks ‘twas General Fairweather herself who once said that no commander was successful without the competency and loyalty of their second, and ‘twas very much true with you.

And now, I offer the final part of this chapter to Commodore Shady, who just arrived from Stalliongrad to visit her former first officer. I had not planned for her to contribute to this chapter, but upon reading the Admiral’s earlier contribution, there is an additional and somewhat surprising tale of her battle group’s approach to Epsilon she wishes to relate.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain. I do wish to visit with Tailwind, but as he is still quite weak and sleeping again, ‘twould seem this is the best use of my time.

—Commodore Shady

Wild North
140 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0350 hours

With little more than an hour before arrival at Epsilon, the mood aboard the Loyalty was best described as tense.

Methinks the feeling I had was something akin to seeing a bad storm approach and waiting for it to break, and ‘twas not an invalid analogy as we watched the superstorm spend its fury from afar.

We knew by then ‘twas indeed a desperate last-ditch defense by the Epsilon garrison, and ‘twould seem it had worked to devastating effect as more chatter was heard on the gryphon scrying network announcing a failed strike and crushing casualties; shaky Aeric voices describing a monster storm and accompanying twister that had torn their attacking formations to shreds whilst pleading for magus healers and reinforcements to keep Epsilon contained.

Both were promised, and worse, an eavesdropping Ensign Kusema reported they planned a fresh and final strike against the battered base before daybreak; one that, with their storm cloud cache spent and now down at least a third of their strength (both according to gryphon sources), the garrison’s exhausted battalion had no chance of surviving.

‘Twas a grim report, but one we drew great heart from. For incredibly, nearly twenty hours into the invasion, Epsilon not only still stood, but by all gryphon reports had accounted for nearly a fourth of a legion—a heroic stand indeed, and one that I could only hope would be rewarded with our rescue. It also, as Tailwind himself pointed out, made our escape from Epsilon easier if the besieging gryphon forces had been thinned out by the earlier battles.

We could only hope, for unlike our circuitous ingress route, our only chance to escape was to make a mad dash for friendly lines and hope our fuel reserves held out that long, to say nothing of our combat worthiness. With daybreak but ninety short minutes away, we’d been at general quarters for nearly two hours as we made the final turn for our objective and proceeded at flank speed.

‘Twas then, as I checked with Aries Azimuth and a slightly frantic Flash Fix as to our progress and the ship’s status—the latter was very nervous, not about our imminent engagement but our rapidly dwindling fuel reserves—that I made one final decision I knew Tailwind would not be happy with, but one ‘twas certain to me I needed to make.

“Ensign Kusema, order the group to reduce speed from flank to full,” I instructed, closing my eyes as I awaited the inevitable explosion. “We need to save enough fuel to reach friendly lines.”

A Question of Command

‘Twas not long in coming. “But ma’am!” Commander Tailwind protested loudly despite my preemptive explanation. “You heard the reports—they’re only holding on by their hooftips! We have to get there before the gryphons strike again!”

With effort, I held my normally cool temper in check. Under most circumstances, methinks I wouldn’t have gotten so angry, but in the end, ‘twas certain I was as tense and on edge as every other pony present, even if I was doing my best not to show it.

“As you were, Commander,” I bit out, letting only the barest of ire into my voice. I did not want to relieve him, but methinks I was actively considering doing so as he had done little but pace and inspect everything repeatedly for the past hour, raising tension levels on the ship even further. “Mister Sora, you have your orders. Carry them out.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” He pulled back with a hoof on the speed control lever with a slightly wary glance over at Lieutenant Azimuth, who was heads-down at his own station but kept an ear pointed at us. “Reducing speed to full.”

“Belay that!”Tailwind ordered, even though he had no authority to do so.

Hearing his words and defiant tone, I very deliberately turned to him. “I beg your pardon, Commander?” I put heavy emphasis on his lower rank. “You are not the Captain here!”

“Well, mayhap I should be!” he retaliated, fire in his eyes. “For your gross negligence if not outright cowardice! This is twice now you’ve ordered us to delay our arrival, and for what?” He bared his teeth at me, which would normally result in getting immediately thrown in the brig if you did it to any superior officer, let alone your Captain. “For fuel reserves? Who cares when we can move our ship by wind from our pegasi?

“Or perchance you’re just hoping that if we hang back long enough, they’ll be wiped out to the last pony and we won’t have to make a rescue at all? That we can spare the battle group whilst at least saying we tried to rescue them, gaining glory whilst winning no victory? Methinks Luna would be ashamed of such dereliction of duty, ma’am! And for it, methinks I should relieve you here and now !” He brandished his wingblade, a desire to duel in his eyes.

The bridge went deathly silent; methinks everypony was waiting to see what I would do in the face of such gross insubordination.

I was considering the question myself as I very deliberately stood up and turned to face his significantly larger form, standing eye to eye with him, my sheathed naval saber prominent.

“Now you listen, and you listen well, Commander Tailwind. I understand you are under a great deal of stress right now, as are we all. But I am Captain, and I will not brook your challenge to my authority!” I flared my horn to restrain him with a paralysis spell, preventing him from moving or speaking until I had said my part; methinks he looked stunned at my use of such a spell on him.

“I am responsible for this ship and this crew, as you yourself reminded me not twelve hours ago! This mission was my choice, so don’t you dare call me a coward when I’m risking the group and defying the Admiral’s orders to make this rescue!” I let him see and hear my anger even as I was struggling to maintain the spell. My magic simply doesn’t work the same way that of other unicorns do; to this day, even standard spells tend to be taxing to me.

“Methinks I owe you no explanation, but you’ll get one anyway—you wouldst have us charge in as quickly as possible, but you wouldst doom both our ships and the Epsilon battalion by doing so! For even if we do proceed at flank speed and arrive before the predawn strike, what then?” I asked, making sure my voice was heard by everypony on the bridge.

“Then we’ll have to fight off an incoming attack in the dark whilst simultaneously evacuating Epsilon, giving both our gunners and our air wing a severe disadvantage against gryphon night vision! We can’t fight or save what we can’t see!” I reminded him heatedly.

“But if we let them hit the base first, then ‘tis far less likely they’ll see us approach! They won’t be expecting anything but friendly forces from the gryphon side of the border and we can get in a devastating first strike against their deployed units!

“And as for your claim that we could escape by wind alone, you know perfectly well that the best we can attain even under full sail and gale is only one-third speed! We couldn’t possibly outrun the gryphons then, meaning their remaining cohorts would catch us and crush us!” I stood nose to nose with him as I spoke.

“As such, we will need enough fuel for at least one hundred miles of flank speed to have any chance of escaping pursuit and reaching friendly air cover! Am I wrong?” I challenged him, loosening my grip just enough to allow him to shake his head even though he still couldn’t speak.

“Am I wrong?” I asked again a little more sharply when I did not immediately get an answer. I did not like having to restrain him or dress him down like that in front of everypony, but he had to get the message that I was in charge, and he was assuredly not thinking clearly.

Finally, he gave me a terse nod of his head.

I relaxed, but only slightly, trying to hold on to my faltering spell for just a few seconds longer. “Good. Now let us be clear on the disposition of duties one final time, Commander Tailwind: I am the Captain of this ship! And all of my orders are directed towards giving us the best chance of completing the mission, which means both making the rescue and escaping afterwards!” I spelled it out. “And that means we time our arrival for dawn, when we will have the light of day to see by and Celestia’s sun at our back, masking our approach!

“I do not want to relieve you, but methinks you are making it very difficult for me not to! So if you do not wish to spend the rest of this trip in the brig and have any chance of participating in the Epsilon rescue, I highly suggest you mind your tongue and remember where your duty lies—to the survival of this ship and the completion of its mission, not to your adopted daughter! Is that bucking clear?”I asked him with a sharp shake of his uniform lapels from my aura, my rare use of profanity getting the attention of everypony on the bridge. ‘Twas only then I released him from my magical grip and stepped back, readying to rear up and draw my saber if he demanded a duel with my captaincy at stake.

To my relief, he did not, his expression going chagrined. “My… my apologies, ma’am.” He finally managed once he was able to move and speak again, his brow sweating and legs shaking. “Y-you are correct on all counts, Captain. I… I am emotionally compromised and unfit for duty. Request permission to leave the bridge and go above decks to clear my head, ma’am.” He asked in a far more respectful tone, snapping to attention and saluting.

“Granted,” I told him with a far more level voice, returning the gesture. “You are far too good an officer to forget your place and your duty, Commander. So go get some air and then check on Engineering. Confirm that the weapons crystal is charged, and get a drink from Flash Fix if you need—methinks ‘tis certain he has some. And once you have regained your focus and are ready to assist with our final approach to Epsilon, return to the bridge. Engagement is but ninety minutes away—or sooner should they spot us—and I need you to help me manage the battle.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he told me with a second salute, and then left the bridge without another word.

The silence around me stretched on after he left as I went back to my captain’s seat and sat down in it. “Captain?” Lieutenant Sora finally called out.

“What is it, Lieutenant Junior Grade?” I answered a little more sharply than I meant to, my emotions still roiled and raw.

“I, uh, just wanted to say… well done, ma’am,” he offered cautiously.

“Thank you,” I acknowledged, though I’d taken no pleasure or satisfaction in any of it. “Is that all?” I further asked, seeing he was hesitating.

“Well, uh…” he glanced back and forth at the other bridge crew members before he asked his next question, receiving a couple nods back. “Forgive me for asking, but… might we have some of that drink ourselves, ma’am?”

“Seconded. Methinks we could all use some, ma’am,” Lieutenant Azimuth added.

I couldn't help but smile at the request. “In Luna’s day, ‘twas tradition to double the Royal Navy rum ration after a won battle,” I told them, “and thus shall we do here! If we win, then we drink. I do hear that Flash Fix has been brewing some excellent moonshine right under my nose. ‘Tis past time I try it, and I promise all may partake to their heart’s content once we are safely back!”

The cheers and hoofstomps that followed were thunderous.

I admit to feeling some guilt about relating this story whilst my former second and current Admiral lies weak in recovery with his fate uncertain, but methinks he will approve, as he was always one to admit his own shortcomings. I relate this tale not to denigrate him, but to show the intense pressure we were all under, and that none were immune to it after a ten-hour trip to war.

Tailwind perchance least of all as he spent the entire time fretting over the fate of his adopted daughter and grandson. ‘Twas understandable, but still unacceptable that he would turn on me like that and put their welfare above that of his ship, but so long as he realized that in the end, I would not relieve him.

In truth, I wonder to this day how I was able to hold together so well myself on that long journey with little more than my own silent fears to keep me company—fear of death, certainly, but mostly fear of failure; fear of the bad luck which had haunted me for all my life interceding here and dooming not just me, but all under my command.

I would learn this night that for as much grief as it had caused me over the years, ‘twas an equally potent weapon against enemy forces as well.

Signed,

—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad

Thank you for sharing this story, Commodore, which yet again was one I never knew. We who bear the title of Hero of Equestria are so often depicted as unconquerable warriors and paragons of military virtue who never faltered or failed, but the truth ‘tis far more nuanced.

It does not surprise me that father reacted this way given his love for me and Gavian, and ‘twould be a lie to say I did not nearly succumb to my own internal crisis sometime later, forgetting myself and my duty in much the same manner. For that reason, I do not hold it against him, and I commend you for dealing with his outburst so effectively, asserting your command and backing him down without arresting him or resorting to a duel.

But for the remains of Epsilon now holed up in our empty storm cloud vault, effective resistance no longer seemed possible from my exhausted battalion, down sixty soldiers and with no storm clouds left to defend ourselves with.

As such, methinks the penultimate and final chapters of the Epsilon battles will be written by me and me alone. For after all this time, ‘tis my turn to reveal something I kept secret from everypony for all these years…

—Firefly

“There are two types of people in this world: those who crawl under their bed in a storm, and those who charge, arms wide and without fear, into its very midst and dance.”

Beau Taplin - The Storm Chasers

Author's Note

*Exhales loudly*

For the record, doing these graphics was an entire weekend of work plus a couple weekday evenings before that. As it turned out, the site problem with displaying external images worked to my advantage as it gave me enough time to finish them before the issue was resolved.

But I never do things halfway, especially for a chapter as big and climactic as this. Could I have released it without graphics? Sure, but no matter how well I described it in text, a picture is still worth a thousand words and makes the battle and storm structure (hopefully) much easier to follow. Hopefully also makes clear how the storm works and where various features of it were located/what they were trying to do. I'm a bit of a weather junkie and have watched tons of tornado and stormchaser videos, which I'm sure show clearly here.

Sorry for the delays in getting this out, but it had to be perfect or as close as I could make it. Helping in that effort was, of course, my prereading team of AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, and Denim_Blue, who seemed to have fun picking at it. I still owe you guys responses on all your comments! I'll get to them in a couple days. You'll understand if I need a break from this first.

The War Begins: 17 - Facing Fate

Dear readers—

As I was starting into the story of the final Epsilon battle whilst eating my breakfast, I received some surprise visitors—Ambassador Kaval and his wife, Marquess Kamilya Ampok, came to offer their respects and well-wishes to my father.

But as he was still sleeping and not ready to receive guests, we chatted and I offered up our latest writings for their inspection. What you are about to read is at the suggestion of the latter, who expressed an interest in knowing how those under my command took what they assumed would be their final hours, and what we did during them.

As I thought about it, I realized ‘twould indeed make an excellent addition, and perchance provide a respite to the readers—and the writers—between two heavy combat chapters. And in truth, there is a great deal that happened in those few hours, many stories and revelations that were shared.

‘Tis a window into the minds of doomed soldiers, and how we readied to meet our end—with equal parts fatalism and fanaticism, regrets and remembrances… and perchance a measure of gallows humor.

—Firefly

Awaiting the End

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0445 hours

An hour before dawn found the battered remnants of my battalion readying for what we knew would be our final stand.

The superstorm had spent itself in under an hour, to little surprise; once it ran out of the humid air that was its fuel, it could not sustain itself and fizzled quickly. We’d heard the wind and lightning noises die down and finally cease in that time as we nursed our losses and tended our wounded as best we could.

‘Twas not easy with half our healer team down, including, to my sorrow, their leader, Sergeant Herbal Balm. He had been slain by the second Diamond Dog breakthrough during the brief battle, to the grief of his team who had then taken bloody vengeance on the Diamond Dogs that Swift Strike had bypassed because they were stunned by his shock gems. I’d received the full after-action report from those present—after I had found and hugged Gavian, who tried so hard to ‘keep his bearing’ as he’d heard us term it, but finally collapsed in my arms crying when he found me. His blade was bloody but he bore no wounds of his own to my great relief.

“Be proud, for he fought superbly, commander. He took down a Fortis Knight all by himself,” Swift Strike confirmed as I held my sobbing son close. The Sky Sergeant was nursing his own injuries; he’d been peppered by crystal fragments from an explosive bolt that had ominously detonated not on contact, but simply by passing near him. Whatever magical chicanery there was that allowed for such a thing, ‘twas certainly a dangerous new weapon for the gryphons to have, and worse, we had no way to warn Corps Command or Canterlot of it.

Then again, we had no way to inform anypony of our predicament or what we had done; that we yet lived. I conservatively estimated the losses we’d inflicted on the gryphons as well over a millennium of soldiers, but in the end, their now-dead tribune—I admit I was even more inclined to forgive Osprey for going out of contact once she showed me her rank insignia trophy; my only regret was that I had not been able to do the deed myself—had been correct: for all we had done, none would know of our stand here; only that in the end, we fell like all the other border bases.

But we weren’t done yet. Out of the 220 soldiers and staff originally assigned to Epsilon, a roll call revealed that only 148 were left. The rest were casualties of the storm and the gryphons, and of those who remained, most were wounded to one extent or another, nursing everything from severe hail bruises to blade and bolt wounds.

Osprey’s platoon had fared the worst on that score; they’d gotten through the initial battle phase of the superstorm attack nearly unscathed only to lose fifteen soldiers to the horrific tornado suction, pulled to the same gruesome fate as the gryphons. Incredibly, three had been thrown free of the vortex and straggled in afterwards, flayed alive by the windblown debris and in no shape for further action.

The remaining healers were doing what they could, but with the loss of most of their supplies in the battle and much of their magic spent during it, several more soldiers succumbed to their wounds. By the time 0500 hours was reached, I had perchance 130 exhausted effectives left, whilst the gryphons…

Even assuming a millennium and a half of losses from the previous day’s actions, that still left them with seventy percent of a 5,000-strong Talon legion to hit us with, never mind what reinforcements they could pull from other, more successful sectors of the front.

In truth, they needed but a fraction of that for the shape we were in. We had made preparations to receive them, but with our storm clouds gone, there was little we could do beyond barricade the vault doors and not stay concentrated in one place lest they break in again. The unicorns had done what they could do to prevent any further Diamond Dog intrusions into the cavern from any direction, whether floor, wall, or ceiling, though they warned me that their suppression spells would not last forever and the dogs might still manage a breakthrough with enough effort and gryphon magus support.

With dawn still an hour away, but not knowing how much time we had left, we held a brief funeral service for our fallen, piling their few primary feathers we had into a chest along with some hastily written notes and mementos from surviving soldiers to their friends, families, and loved ones.

For myself, I submitted a full accounting of our actions that day and a list of recommended commendations: The Sapphire Star for many soldiers, and for Gavian as we were allowed to award military medals to civilians attached to a unit. The Sapphire Sun for Swift Strike for in large measure winning the Vault battle by himself, saving the lives of the healers and civilians in the process, and ultimately saving the entire battalion by ensuring we could still retreat there when the tornado struck. The Royal Guard’s Guardian Goldstone for First Sergeant Still Way for taking down two gryphon mages by himself in a feat few unicorns could accomplish.

I further asked that honorary Equestrian Army ranks and Opal Spear medals be awarded to our earth pony civilian maintenance crew, who fought as infantry and suffered two dead in the cavern but did not let the Talons break their lines. Archer Agates were requested for the healers who had taken up longbows in the base’s defense, and who had each accounted for several enemy soldiers during the day, primarily during the initial Talon attack and then the Vault battle that followed.

‘Twas only with great reluctance I recommended the Dove of Fidelity—a rather ugly and unhappy award given for being the sole survivor of a lost unit—for Sergeant Sky Sentry at his own request. He added a note to his son and a series of additional primary feathers to the chest he would only say came from mares he knew at Delta before he broke down and cried again. He declined further explanation or decoration, saying he did not wish any reward for being the sole survivor of Delta, nor for taking down a Fortis Knight with his bare hooves. He then went off by himself in a dark corner of the cavern, still trying to come to terms with all that had happened to him.

I also recommended promotions for many, including Corporal Shrike to Sergeant and Second Lieutenant Snow Squall posthumously to First Lieutenant, as the former had performed well commanding the rear guard platoon in Blindside’s absence, whilst the latter had proven every bit the officer and leader he’d been advertised to be. Methinks he was a ‘poster foal’ for the Equestrian Officer Academy, leaving me in deep regret I would never be able to attend it myself.

Once full, the chest was buried eight feet deep and hidden via what was termed to me a ‘shelter spell’ by Still Way, consisting of a series of layered enchantments that would both mask it from detection and preserve its contents indefinitely. It was cast by Still Way himself using magic pulled from the remaining healers, since he had little left of his own. Serene to the end, he told me ‘twould draw on the natural magic of the area to continuously power itself. He further promised it could not be found by all but the most determined Magus, and only if they knew it was there and at least the rough area to look for it.

Unfortunately, that also meant ‘twas unlikely to ever be found by our own side as well. ‘Twas our perchance forlorn hope ‘twould ever be unearthed, and as we knew we were not likely to survive this morn, knowledge of its existence would die with us.

The hole was filled and then trampled hard underhoof, followed by moving a supply chest or two containing dummy possessions on top of it as a ruse. That accomplished, we had done all we could, and thus we settled in to simply wait. The remains of my squads and platoons mingled together around firegems scattered throughout the darkened cavern, spending what little time we had left in each other’s company, sharing a meager last meal of plain hay and even a drink or two—trust the maintenance crew to have slipped in a small keg of their moonshine!—as they reminisced about fallen friends and those they were leaving behind.

‘Twas no different for myself and the rest of the senior staff, who held our own gathering in the center of the cavern. “This is it, my friends,” I told them by flickering firegem light as we poured the last few drops of the moonshine for ourselves, partaking only after the rank-and-file had taken their fill. “We have no more tricks and no more clouds. No chance of rescue nor of surviving another fight. Methinks all we can do now… is take a few more of them with us.”

“And so we shall!” Fell Flight proclaimed, flashing her pointed thestral teeth. “I want another Wind Knight scalp before I fall!”

“So do I! But even if not, at least we may perish knowing we had a noble end,” Osprey said solemnly. “We did our duty and did Equestria proud. Even if our own side does not know of our stand this day, ‘tis certain the gryphons will never forget!” She held up her tribune shoulder insignia trophy in reminder.

She received but some weak cheers for that—we were all exhausted from a day of constant fighting and little sleep. “May it be enough,” I told them all, then turned to Swift Strike, whose stature was small but whose heart and combat capability were completely outsized. “Any regrets, Sky Sergeant?”

He thought about that, then chuckled. “Just one, methinks. I would have liked to visit my favorite pub in Trottingham one last time,” he told me with a wistful sigh. “‘Tis run by my aunt, and methinks they had the best chips and ale in the province. I made it a point to try and visit it—and her—before every operation, assuming it might be my last time seeing them. Because for all the missions into gryphon territory we took, ‘tis certain you never knew when it would be.”

“Sounds rather fatalistic, Sky Sergeant,” Stormrunner noted. He’d actually come through the supercell fight better than me, picking up only a few bruises and armor divots whilst I was dealing with a painful if shallow bolt wound in my hip as well as a collection of scrapes and steel claw slashes on my forelegs, ones that had found or forced a couple gaps in my armor.

“’Tis the way of the Lances,” he replied succinctly. “We fully expect to die in the course of duty one day, and we expect most of Equestria to never know of our deeds or ends. When we fall in battle, our deaths are typically recorded as training accidents or illness, and only months after the fact.”

“Really? Then do not even the Lances themselves know?” I had to ask.

He hesitated for a few moments before answering. “We have a monument dedicated to our dead upon which our names and service records are inscribed in code,” he finally admitted. “I cannot say where it is.”

“Cannot or will not?” Osprey challenged.

“Whichever you like, Flight Sergeant.” He raised an eyeridge at her, causing some more chuckles. “Tell me, have you any regrets or family of your own?” he then asked her.

Osprey only shook her head, though I thought I might have caught a glimmer of anger in her gaze. “Nopony worth remembering, no. As far as I’m concerned, my only family is Omega and the Corps. Which means I get to die with them right here.”

“Oh, really? No stallion in your stable, then?” Fell Flight asked with a smirk, not above tweaking her even then.

Osprey looked annoyed at the question. “No.”

“And why not? Perchance because your Corps career meant you couldn’t have one? Or perchance because your flank was too thin?” Fell Flight teased with a lopsided grin in continuation of the back-and-forth banter and insults they had constantly indulged in.

In response, Osprey gave her a level look. “Perchance because I prefer mares, Master Sergeant,” she informed her blandly, and then punctuated her statement by giving Fell Flight a lascivious look and wink, causing the latter to flush whilst the rest of us began to laugh.

Seeing her longtime rival’s reaction, Osprey’s eyes gained a sultry gleam as she went on. “And actually, methinks I do have one regret, Fell Flight—that I was not able to share my proclivities... with you!” As she spoke, she gave Fell Flight a slow, languid lick of her tongue, causing her blush to deepen as the rest of us roared in further laughter, doubly so when Fell Flight’s wings twitched, threatening to go erect!

It felt good to know we could find reasons to laugh, even facing our end as we were. But Osprey wasn’t done yet. “So, aside from not getting to bed Fell Flight, my only real regret is I cannot slay any more gryphons past this morning—no offense, Gavian,” she quickly told my son, who was sitting at my side and drinking from a bowl.

“None taken,” he answered dully, picking at some discarded gryphon rations that appeared to be some form of dried meat he’d shared with Fell Flight. “After all we did this day, methinks you have every right to hate us.” His shoulders slumped as he spoke.

The gathering fell silent at his words, and I could only put my hoof over his talons to hear them. “We don’t hate you, Gavian. Methinks you are the perfect example of what gryphons could be—honorable friends and warriors who are as skilled with a pen as a sword.”

“Thank you, Mother.” He bared his throat and then nuzzled me with his beak, to which I hugged his head. “In truth, I do have my own regret this night—that I never finished the picture of you, me, Grandmother and Grandfather,” he told me, referring to the one he’d sketched of us the night I’d officially adopted him in the presence of my parents, intending to wait for a second visit to do the actual painting. “I put the preliminary sketch in the chest and left instructions for its finishing. ‘Tis my hope some future artist will do what I could not,” he told me and then looked away; tears visibly welling in his eyes again.

He took a single, shuddering breath before going on. “What I do not regret is all that happened to me in the past year. For as awful as it was at times, it led me here... to all of you! Let me know friendship and family for the first time, no matter how brief it was. Let me become the warrior I always dreamt. And for it? I love you all.” He sniffled. “And ‘twill be my greatest honor to die here with all of you.”

“Ars Longa, Vita Brevis.” Swift Strike recited in Aeric whilst putting a hoof on Gavian’s chest.

Whatever he said, Gavian looked up and smiled. “Vivamus, Moriendum Est,” he rejoined in the same tongue.

“Omnes Una Manet Nox. Permitte Divis Cetera,” Fell Flight added, causing the other two to chuckle and nod whilst leaving the rest of us no idea what was being said.

“Nil Desperandum. Carpe Diem,” Stormrunner finished, but that phrase I knew by then. “And we did.”

Mugs and a single bowl were raised in toast. “Any final thoughts for you, Master Sergeant? Methinks in all the time you’ve been here, you’ve said precious little about your herd or home life.” I asked Stormunner.

Farewell to Arms

He smiled somewhat sadly, making me immediately wonder if asking the question had been a mistake. “’Tis because they are nonexistent, Commander. I am estranged from both. My mares divorced me before my foals were grown, claiming that by being in the Celestial Guard, I was ‘more married to Celestia than to them’.” He sighed and shook his head.

“Though they exaggerate, methinks ‘tis not without some truth. I became wedded to my career more than they. I neglected them without truly realizing it, until ‘twas too late. They ‘jumped clouds’, as it were, when they found another stallion who was willing to give them the time and attention I had not. They then moved back to Cloudsdale, taking my son and daughters with them. If I have any regret, ‘tis that I did not spend more time with them. And methinks I failed at being a herd stallion so badly that I have not attempted to form another herd since.” He turned downcast.

Methinks I was definitely regretting the question by then. “Well, I think you’re a fine stallion, Master Sergeant.” I favored him with a smile. “Under different circumstances and given a few more years, methinks I might well have contemplated herding with you myself!” I told him with a smile, and to my surprise, I meant it—he was very much my equal, both in terms of rank and combat ability, being the only soldier this side of Swift Strike who could at least occasionally best me in aerial duels. “If nothing else, know that I am glad to have served with you. Just having you around made me a better warrior.”

“The feeling is mutual, Commander.” He gave me a grateful smile. “How about you, First Sergeant? Methinks you seem rather sanguine about all this,” he posed the question to Still Way next.

“Because death ‘tis not to be feared,” he answered, his horn glow weak as he levitated his drink. “’Tis simply a passage all must endure one day. What matters is not that we die. ‘Tis that we lived and bequeath a legacy, whether ‘tis in the losses we inflicted today or in the love and knowledge we leave behind. With regards to the latter, mine is in my foals and my magical arts, which I have already passed in full to Vielle and Harpsichord, my eldest son and daughter. So I die knowing it—and they—will survive this night.”

“Magical Arts? The ‘Still Way Technique’ is it to be, then?” Fell Flight asked slightly derisively, to which Still Way closed his eyes and smiled.

Fell Flight could only sigh and rub her slitted eyes with a hoof. “So be it. Though I may not always show it, methinks I admire your accomplishments immensely, First Sergeant, both here and throughout your life. ‘Tis certain we could not have held the cavern or pulled off the spoiling attack without you,” she admitted with a nod at the two downed gryphon mages, whose corpses had been dragged into a line with the rest and left for the gryphons to dispose of as they saw fit.

I’d heard they burned their dead, not unlike pegasi did, but their reasons were completely different—whilst we cremated our fallen so their ashes could be released to the winds that pegasi loved and wielded, they did so to prevent their corpses from being possessed and reanimated by an ancient enemy called the Cloven, who had nearly annihilated them many centuries past.

But such idle musings were lost as my second went on. “In truth, methinks I envy you, Still Way. For I leave no legacy behind but a bereft family and coltfriend who ‘tis certain shall never know my fate. Assuming they still live after the attacks on Cloudsdale and Baltimare, that is.” She became downcast.

“Tis not true, Master Sergeant,” he rejoined. “I know your story. You touched and saved many lives during your Corps Career. Ask the families you saved from the Indala raider group if they are glad for your actions. Ask your own family and coltfriend if they are glad for your existence,” he reminded her, to which she could only give him a grateful smile. “How about you, Blindside?”

“M-me?” she answered slightly shakily. Blindside was wounded badly from the multiple sword strikes she’d taken, and even with her senses restored would not be much good in our final fight. She’d placed her eyepatch with a note to her mother in the chest, causing me and many others to start to see her without it and her milky orb of a nonworking eye beneath. Nevertheless, she hobbled to my side and swore to fall with me along with Gavian, though she said very little this night, perchance still feeling the aftereffects of her wounds and the fear she felt.

Nevertheless, she answered here. “Well…” she gave me a furtive look that told me what she was thinking, but I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t say it out loud in front of everypony, not even facing death as we were. She’d already made her declaration of love to me and that was enough for her; she was not the kind of pony who needed it publicly known. “I regret not being able to join the Lances.”

“The Lances?” Everypony chorused in surprise except for me and Swift Strike, who smiled.

Blindside nodded somewhat jerkily. “They recruited me. I’d received my orders not two days ago and ‘twas going to start training in October at Coltonado,” she told us, to confirming nods from myself and Swift Strike.

“And I was going to start training you personally, even before that,” Swift Strike noted idly. “You can thank me for the offer, Sergeant. ‘Twas on my recommendation you were recruited.”

“Thank you, Sky Sergeant. But after this last battle… methinks I do not deserve it.” She shivered again, pulling her blanket tighter around her. She’d been wearing one ever since being patched up after the battle, though ‘twas unclear to me whether it was more for her wounds and blood loss than the lingering fear she felt from the storm. “I fell to pieces out there and nearly lost my entire platoon.”

“You were suddenly and unexpectedly stripped of your senses, Sergeant. ‘Tis a perfectly understandable reaction. And ‘tis something we would have certainly worked with you to address,” Swift Strike said sympathetically, putting a hoof on her leg. “In the time I was here, I evaluated you not just for your skill in battle, but your strength of spirit, and found it not at all wanting for the disability you overcame.”

“To say nothing of not tearing your sire limb from limb when you ran into him at the Summer Sun Celebration Military Ball,” I couldn’t help but add. “‘Tis unlikely I could have restrained myself in your place.”

“The ball?” everypony echoed again as Blindside’s eyes—both of them, as she was no longer wearing her eyepatch—narrowed in anger.

“Indeed. Your encounter there was observed by Silent Night. It detracted nothing from your attractiveness to the Lances in her eyes,” Swift Strike noted after a brief explanation of the events. “We look not just for promising young warriors, but disciplined ones who can keep their calm and their wits about them, especially in stressful situations. And methinks there are few things more stressful than running into your own estranged sire for the first time since he abandoned you at birth for your supposed disability.”

“Silent Night?” Osprey repeated, having recognized the name of my adoptive mother from her earlier visit to Epsilon following the ball. Everypony glanced back and forth to each other, reaching the same conclusion at once. “So your mother was…”

“A Lance. Yes,” I confirmed, wondering what she would be doing now in the advent of war. “If you wish to know why I returned from leave so battered some months back, ‘twas because she tested me and for all my speed and skill, still rather soundly beat me.” I rubbed my eyes with a hoof at the memory. She had taken me out into a meadow for some full-contact sparring following the pair of us seeing Wind Whistler off to basic, leaving us both needing to burn off some tension. I had thought to take it easy on her, only to be very quickly disabused of the notion. “If I have any regrets now, ‘tis that I cannot see her again. Cannot partake in her cooking or test myself against her again.” I shook my head, wondering how much time we had left for such idle chit-chat, given the gryphons were almost certain to strike before dawn, now less than twenty minutes away.

But methinks every moment we had left then ‘twas a gift, and thus to be savored, milked for everything ‘twas worth. “And I wish I could see my mother again,” Blindside agreed. “Last she wrote, she was courting a new stallion and wanted me to meet him. I was planning to take a week’s leave to see her before starting at Coltanado, but now…” Tears ran down her cheeks.

I was still contemplating a response to that when a new figure approached our circle out of the darkness, one that caused all present to not only fall silent, but stand in deep respect.

Reluctant Warrior

“Sky Sentry,” I quickly greeted him. “Are you well?”

“No,” he said in a slightly shaky voice. “But methinks I do not wish to be alone any longer. Request permission to join you, Master Sergeant?” he asked politely, throwing me a quick salute.

“Of course,” I told him, returning the gesture and passing him a mug with our final drops of drink, offering a seat at my side. “By all means.”

“Thank you,” he acknowledged. “Methinks I am at least grateful I got to see you again one last time before our end.”

“And I am truly sorry for the circumstances, Sergeant. But that you survived them and made it all this way from Delta speaks greatly for you,” I offered, to which he gave a bitter laugh.

“Methinks you wouldst not say that if you knew thecircumstances,” he replied. “Methinks my foal and his mother would be ashamed of me if they knew.” He sniffled again, nursing his few drops of drink.

“Your foal? You said you had a son, yes?” I reminded him, which was a given anyway—stallions couldn’t join the Armored Guard until and unless they’d sired a son. “If I may ask, what is his name?” Methinks I was trying to get him to focus on happier thoughts and memories.

He hesitated, but answered. “Apple Sprout,” he finally admitted, to the surprise of all. “He lives near Stalliongrad with his mother’s clan.”

“Apple Sprout?” I repeated the words, quickly reaching the only conclusion possible for such an un-pegasus name, one that methinks made much clear. “Then he and his mother are…?”

“Earth ponies,” he confirmed to the surprise of all, squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a moment. “’Tis why I could not stay with him—her mother’s clan would not have me. They promised to disown Applebee—his mother—if she herded with me, and though she was willing, I could not support them as the mere weather worker I was.

“So I thought that by joining the Guard, I could gain stature in their eyes. That perchance then they would accept me. Or failing that, I could use my new prestige to establish a herd elsewhere and then invite her to join me.” His hooves shook as he remembered.

He sighed before continuing. “‘Twas a foalish sentiment that should not have availed me, and by rights, I should have washed out of Guardspony basic within a week. But then something happened. Something that changed everything.”

“What?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“You did, Master Sergeant.” He raised his haunted eyes to mine. “The very first day of training, you challenged me. Made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he told me with the ghost of a smile, causing me to flush at the memory of the half-jested promise I’d made to him, offering him the chance to… have me if he completed basic and graduated a Corporal. “In doing so, you gave me a reason to not just persevere, but excel. Methinks I wanted you—not just for a cheap fling, but, well... as a future herdmate and a second mother to my foal.” He slumped at the admission.

I stayed silent—for what could I say to that?—waiting for him to continue, allowing him to take another sip of his drink. “But then something else happened. As I went along, I realized I had an actual talent for the work. That much to my surprise, I was good at combat and enjoyed it. That I wanted to get stronger and swifter and better so that I might be your equal. So that then, you might wish to be with me in turn.”

His few drops of drink exhausted, we passed him some water instead, which he gulped at hard as he continued to relate his tale.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I know how little you must think of me now. But the truth is… basic training ‘twas but a game to me and the Guard itself but a means to an end. Despite the Sergeant Major’s admonitions, I never gave any thought to what we were actually training for! I never dreamt any of this could actually happen! And when it did…” He buried his face in his hoof and had to stifle sobs again. “I fought, Master Sergeant, I really did! I tried to defend the base! I even took over when the commander and her second were killed!

“But no matter what I did, ‘twasn’t enough! No matter how many I killed, they just kept coming! Mages and Knights behind the Talons that I couldn’t hold off!” His mug shook violently in his hoof whilst we listened silently, aghast.

It was several seconds before he could continue. “Knowing the base was lost, I tried to lead the survivors here by making a dash through the inner river gorge, keeping to the afternoon shadows. But they spotted us and none survived! All fell en route to Epsilon until only I was left!” he slammed his hooves down hard before he finally raised his haunted eyes to all of us and said his final statement. “Don’t you all understand? I’m a failure as a father and a soldier! I lost the outpost and led my troops to their deaths!” he pronounced as he broke down sobbing again.

“No, Sergeant,” Still Way spoke up before I could, once his cries has subsided. “You did not fail at either. In both instances, you were presented with an impossible situation and did what you could with it. You tried to provide for your mare and foal. You tried to defend your base and when the gryphon numbers proved too great, you tried to lead your remaining forces to safety.

“Far from leading them to their deaths, you offered your soldiers a fighting chance for life—the only realistic chance they had. Methinks you did everything you could and none here could have performed any better in your place. ‘Tis not your fault what happened. ‘Tis nopony’s fault but the gryphons,” the First Sergeant said solemnly. “And as for your reasons for joining the Guard being poor ones? Mayhap ‘twould interest you to know why I joined.”

“And why was that?” Fell Flight asked, her voice subdued.

“To showcase my magical arts and, in my youthful naivety, try to convince the Guard to follow a more peaceful path.” He chuckled to himself. “In truth, I was a pacifist. And worse, I thought I could convince others to be from inside the military. I endured training even as I vowed to eventually reform it. I regret my first assignment did disabuse me of that notion rather quickly as I discovered that the Harpies were not impressed by my peaceful pretensions. Methinks all my mistaken beliefs died a horrible death when I was forced to kill a group of them to stop them from slaughtering a family.”

For one of the few times I had known him, there was genuine pain in the First Sergeant’s eyes. “’Twas quite a shock, as you might guess. ‘Twas only then I realized my entire worldview was false, and that to be peaceful did not mean unwilling to act. That pacifism only worked if all subscribed to it, else ‘twas certain to only be taken as weakness—which only invited more conflict, not less. That a desire for peace meant nothing unless backed by the will and ability to fight. That was when me and my arts finally began to mature, and my path became the correct one,” he told us all, then turned to me. “And what about you, ma’am?”

“I joined the Guard for personal glory,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “And like the First Sergeant, I was disabused of the notion rather rudely, first by my head trainer, Sergeant Major Windshear, and later by the gryphons.” I shivered at the memory of how badly I’d reacted to my first real engagement and kill; an attack in which I’d lost sixteen soldiers to a raider ruse. But not all the outcomes had been bad; Gavian had been captured in that attack, too small and malnourished to have slain anyone and duped into joining the raider group anyway. “Like Still Way, I learned the hard way the utter folly of my initial thinking. But I am grateful now, for ‘tis what set me on the flight to become the warrior and leader I am. So tell me, then… what about the rest of you? Why did you join the military?” I posed the question to them all.

“I joined the Corps to escape my overbearing mother, enlisting the moment I turned nineteen,” Osprey said succinctly. “And ‘tis certain I have never looked back.”

“I joined to be able to fight and follow in my mentor’s hoofsteps, who was a retired Corps soldier,” Fell Flight said next. “I needed outlets for my thestral hunting instincts, and the Corps was the obvious answer. Doubly so as I wished to honor the one who trained and taught me when nopony else would. What about you, Sergeant?” She turned to Blindside next.

“Me? I joined to prove I wasn’t a cripple,” she explained with her first grin all night. “Methinks serving Equestria was secondary, though ‘twould be a lie to say I did not wish to honor the same mentor as you. And you, Sky Sergeant?” she asked Swift Strike, who was the only one who hadn’t offered up their story.

“To become something more than the skinny and easily bullied weakling I was,” he answered without a hint of irony, then grinned at the looks everypony gave him. “I wasn’t always an assassin, you know.”

“Perchance not,” Still Way agreed, a ghost of a smile on his face as he looked to Sky Sentry once more. “But the point, Sergeant, is that we all had different paths in coming here, and even motives that might have been considered shallow or selfish,” he told his fellow stallion. “In truth, few of us were joining to serve princess and province. But you? Your motivation strikes me as the least selfish of all. You joined the Guard in an attempt to give your foal a better life and a herd that would accept both him and his mother. Speaking for myself, I find that quite noble. Perchance you were a bit naive, but ’tis certain no more than I was!”

“Or me,” I went downcast, wishing that I could go back in time to slap myself for my own ignorance and arrogance.

Sky Sentry considered that, then nodded. “Thank you, both,” he told us. “‘Tis appreciated. Still, methinks I escaped the destruction of one outpost only to die at another. And I wish very much that I’d been able to see Applebee and Apple Sprout again…”

Before any reply could be offered, a series of muffled sounds were heard outside the doors, announcing the return of the gryphons; scraping and clawing noises as they readied to storm the cavern—or perchance just bring it down on our heads to be done with us.

All conversation instantly stopped and eyes turned on me as I took flight and spoke into my blue gem for what I was certain would be the last time. “Soldiers of the Corps! ‘Tis time. Our end is nigh, and I have no more orders to give save these—fight hard and fight well! Make sure the gryphons will never forget this night... or the name of Outpost Epsilon!”

A final cheer went up from my doomed troops as we heard the booms of magus lightning, and dust began to fall from the ceiling from their impacts against the roof of the cavern—they clearly were indeed trying to cave it in on us, but even with diamond dog support ‘twas unlikely at best they could get the whole ceiling to collapse at once.

The entire battalion then came to attention and gave me their most crisp and rigid salutes; even the maintenance crew offered their respects with their best impressions of one.

“‘Tis been an honor to serve with you, Commander,” Fell Flight spoke for all of them, struggling to keep the catch from her voice.

“The honor was mine, Master Sergeant,” I told her, just as rigidly returning the salute as the cavern shook again. “See you in the Summerlands.”

If I may say, Captain, adding this section ‘twas an excellent suggestion. Methinks I must give my regards to the Ambassador and Marquess before I leave.

‘Tis now lunchtime, and the Captain is currently seeing her father along with her honored guests. As I await my turn, I believe I will pick up the quill myself again to pen a short section, one that will set the final battle scene.

—Commodore Shady

Inbound

Gryphon Territory
12 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0540 hours

“Word from the gryphon scrying networks, Captain—the final attack on Epsilon is going in.” Ensign Kusema reported from her station, a mug of steaming tea at her side. I’d ordered it from the galley for the entire bridge crew to try to keep us awake and alert this late into the night. “They say that the remnants of the Corps battalion have holed up inside their empty storm cloud vault.”

“I see. Steady as she goes, Mister Sora. And keep us in the clouds,” I directed. Perchance as a consequence of the storm, there was a low cloud bank left in the area; an unusually thick fog and mist that was masking our approach. We’d actually spotted a few gryphon patrols by then, but hidden in the clouds as we were and not looking for any intruders on the gryphon side of the border, they had failed to notice us. I then clicked another gem button on my console. “Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight!” I called to our Pegasus air wing commander. “Are your instructions for the battle clear?”

“Crystal clear, ma’am,” she replied promptly. “All my squadrons have been briefed on their roles and objectives. We’re ready to launch on your orders!”

“Good. Commander?” I turned to my second next, who had taken about forty minutes before returning after his confrontation with me, but who now appeared to be in a much better state of mind; calm and in control. “I need to command the group, and that means you need to command the ship. The Loyalty is yours, Mister Tailwind,” I announced, stepping away from the Captain’s chair.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He acknowledged with a salute. “I assume the watch. Mister Azimuth? What is our current distance to Epsilon?”

“Twelve miles, sir,” he replied after a short pause, measuring a distance on the chart. We were flying blind on our final approach, as the ground and immediate surroundings were masked by leftover mists, so the Lieutenant was navigating by what mariners call dead reckoning, attempting to calculate our position via forward speed and heading from our last known location.

“Then order the group to begin descent and go to flank speed,” I directed Ensign Kusema. “And order their commanders to tune to my personal command crystals. I will be directing our forces from the forward deck,” I announced, heading towards the lower observation deck where I could observe the overall battle, a collection of communication crystals attached to my belt and several heavily armed naval guards, including the Mare-at-Arms herself, at my side.

“Aye-aye, ma’am. Mister Sora, begin descent towards Epsilon and go to flank speed! Fifteen degrees down angle on the planes.”

“Fifteen degrees down and go to flank speed, aye.” He moved a pair of levers forward and for a moment, my hooves felt lighter under my body as the ship began to drop. “Guess this is it…” I heard him mutter under his breath, the attention of all suddenly on the forward windows that still showed only fog. “By the Sun and Moon, we’re really doing this…”

“Orders acknowledged, ma’am. The Duty and Vigil report descent commencing,” Kusema relayed.

“Then battle is upon us,” I said as I stepped out onto the forward deck and donned a pair of borrowed flight goggles, the wind blasting in my face.

And may Luna be with us… I silently prayed as the sun peeked over the horizon behind us. It rose just as we left the cover of the clouds to descend towards the newly-visible ruins of Epsilon base, a fresh cohort of gryphons circling their final redoubt like vultures.

“But one night waits for all and the road of death is to be tread only once.” —Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace)

Author's Note

Well, folks... in the end, I elected to break up the chapter for two reasons: First, it was getting very long, and second, I felt like a respite was needed between major battle scenes and that it was just too much whiplash for the reader (and writer!) to jump from such a solemn scene right into battle. At 7k words, this was long enough and important enough to warrant its own chapter, I decided, and thus leave actual battle self-contained. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but the battle chapter is already well underway. So be patient; it’s coming! In the meantime, hope you enjoyed this look into the lives and minds of our heroes. And you *might* have noticed the mention of a certain individual you may recall from the first book; an old friend some readers wanted to hear more of. Be assured, her story will be told in due course!

Thanks as always go to Denim_Blue, Silentwoodfire, Leo Archon and AJ_Aficionado, who had their usual good time with the parent Google Doc. Work continues on the battle chapter, and updates will follow later. Thanks again for following!

The War Begins: 18 - Love and Loyalty

As evening falls and Father remains infirm, I find myself contemplative, though the topics that occupy my thoughts are anything but idle ones.

Indeed, ‘tis questions of life and death that hold my attention now; wondering again what should happen if Father should suddenly take a turn for the worse. ‘Tis certain we already discussed arrangements should he not survive—he wishes his primaries to be interred with Mother’s, to little surprise, whilst following his state funeral, his ashes are to be scattered to the winds at sunrise from the decks of the EAS Loyalty itself.

The latter is tradition for Royal Navy dead; an extension of the ages-old belief amongst pegasi that the rising sun leads the way to the Summerlands for fallen warriors. ‘Tis why pegasi funeral services are held at dawn to this day, and I note ‘tis a tradition that has, over time, been adopted by the other pony tribes as well.

‘Twas a tradition I never gave much thought to before I entered the military, nor did I ever truly consider the question of what happened after death as a foal or filly, believing myself invincible and immune to dying as befits all the ignorance and arrogance of youth. ‘Twas only when I was exposed to death in my first combat actions that I truly understood how fragile and fleeting life was, and ‘twas only then did I begin to contemplate the age-old questions of mortality.

Every race of this world, it seems, has its own beliefs regarding the afterlife. The gryphons have the warrior haven of Valhalla whilst the ponies have the peaceful paradise of the Summerlands; the thestrals speak of an eternally warm and starry moonlit night whilst the hippogryphs return their spirits to ‘The Eternal Sea’. And mine?

Mine were shaped by the events of this second morn of war—by an event I have never told anypony else about before now.

—Firefly

Waiting Game

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0538 hours

‘Twas five hours after the battle beneath the superstorm and but five minutes before dawn when we heard the noises outside the cavern; ones that announced the return of the gryphons and their intent to finish off our stubborn resistance once and for all.

This time, there was nothing we could do to stop them. Given their numbers and Magi, we had but minutes left to live once they breached the vault, and thus ‘twas with both pride and sorrow as I took flight and looked out over my assembled battalion for the final time.

“Soldiers of the Corps! ‘Tis time. Our end is nigh, and I have no more orders to give save these—fight hard and fight well! Make sure the gryphons will never forget this night... or the name of Outpost Epsilon!”

A final cheer went up from my doomed troops as we heard the booms of magus lightning, and dust began to fall from the ceiling from their impacts against the roof of the cavern—they clearly were indeed trying to cave it in on us, I thought. But even with diamond dog support, ‘twas unlikely at best they could get the whole ceiling to collapse at once.

The entire battalion then came to attention and gave me their most crisp and rigid salutes; even the maintenance crew offered their respects with their best impressions of one.

“‘Tis been an honor to serve with you, Commander,” Fell Flight spoke for all of them, struggling to keep the catch from her voice.

“The honor was mine, Master Sergeant,” I told her, just as rigidly returning the salute as the cavern shook again. “See you in the Summerlands.” The salutes were then dropped as my soldiers scattered themselves throughout the cavern in preparation for one final fight, this one to the death.

As my remaining command staff rushed to their respective platoons—Fell Flight taking over 3rd platoon after Snow Squall’s death and Flight Sergeant Starling being wounded—the soldiers of my battered battalion took formations spaced well apart, eschewing concentration lest the wrong portion of the ceiling cave in and take us all out at once. Even with their numbers evened out after some hasty reorganization, my four platoons could now only muster around thirty troops each, even augmented by a few scratch soldiers borrowed from the storm teams.

Adrenaline surged through me as the booms of magus lightning intensified and the cavern began to quake. Lacking a spare set of wingblades that fit him, Sky Sentry grabbed a discarded Talon scimitar in his muzzle whilst Blindside did the same with a rough-hewn Diamond Dog weapon that was half-blade and half-club, her inflamed wounds preventing her from effectively flying or wielding wingblades. Gavian drew his own sword and held it at the ready facing the vault doors whilst the remaining healers stepped up, longbows leveled to cover the entrance from multiple angles.

But it became quickly apparent the Imperials were attempting to break in through multiple points as cracks began appearing in the ceiling from repeated lightning hits on the cavern roof, and we sensed movement under the floor as the dogs tried to break in yet again. Worse, we had to retreat from the metal vault doors as they began glowing and smoking from the middle edges in, Magus Knight fire attempting to both melt them and drive back any defenders.

“Hold fast!” I ordered our ground forces; three longbow-armed unicorn healers and six axe-wielding earth ponies together with myself, Gavian, Swift Strike, Blindside, and an injured but barely-mobile Spear Sergeant Steelheart, planting myself in their midst on the ground thirty yards away from the doors, feeling the radiant heat intensifying.

“Release volley on my order only!” I directed. Methinks I wasn’t actually too familiar with crossbow and longbow tactics other than what I’d observed of the healer teams practicing, but methinks I’d also seen enough of how the gryphons did it to get an idea of how best to use them. I thought that if Swift Strike and I attacked hard on the heels of a volley whilst the gryphons were maneuvering to dodge, then we could rush in and at least take out the first decade or so of enemy soldiers between us.

In any event, it did not seem likely we would have long to wait as the doors weakened and warped, but then abruptly… the noises stopped and an eerie silence descended on the cavern for the better part of a minute.

Methinks I was anything but reassured by that. “Mother? Wh-what’s happening?” Gavian asked, looking around nervously.

“I don’t know...” I admitted, a sudden sense of dread creeping over me as I glanced over at Swift Strike. “Are they not coming in?”

He didn’t answer right away, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as he considered the situation. Then abruptly, his eyes went wide. “Get back!” he shouted at us in rare panic, grabbing and all but flinging Gavian away from the door. “They’re going to—”

Breach

A deafening series of explosions from all sides cut him off before he could finish as the walls, floors, ceiling, and doors all seemed to simultaneously implode from multiple points; the latter blasting inward and showering us with spall. A hastily erected unicorn shield blocked most of it, but some hit my face and chest, the former burning my cheek badly and forcing me to discard my helmet before the molten matter that hit it could cook my head beneath, and the latter making me likewise want to tear off my breastplate, which was searing my body with unbearable heat.

But there was no time as the first wave of armored gryphons burst in from all points, rage and bloodlust in their eyes. Their lead forces wielded not one but two crossbows, firing one explosive bolt from them and then another. And behind them were nearly a score of grey-dyed figures wielding twin scimitars who took advantage of the chaos to strike my stunned soldiers down with terrifying speed and sword skill, accounting for a dozen ponies in mere seconds.

In a rarity for the gryphons, there was no declaration of attack; no offer of honor this time. For the losses we had inflicted and the tactics we had used, ‘twas certain they wanted us dead, and as violently as possible.

“Ravens!”the call went up as Swift Strike launched himself at the nearest group of them charging in hard on the wingbeats of the Knights. But they were well-briefed on what they’d be facing and immediately singled him out, a team of seven coming through the breached vault doors on the heels of another Knight decade who disrupted our planned volley with their own, firing explosive bolts into our midst, their blows taking down the half-strength unicorn shields with alarming ease and leaving us defenseless. The Ravens followed up with tossed gems I was just able to recognize and blow aside with a gust of wind from my wings, else they might have taken the lot of us out at once.

“Return fire!” I called out to our surviving forces over the cries of pain behind me, trying to block out the searing agony against my chest fur of my slowly cooling armor. Staggered, they obeyed as best they could as two longbow arrows, three axes and two crossbow bolts lashed out in retaliation, but only one found its mark as the Ravens dodged easily and Knight armor deflected it. Our last-ditch plan ruined, there was little for it but to join my Black Lance friend in battle and hope we could buy some time for our ground forces to ready another volley.

But for as well as things had gone the previous day, ‘twould seem our luck was exhausted, or perchance the gryphons had planned too well. This time, they had brought in Ravens to set crystal charges so they could hit us from all sides at once; this time, they were storming the cavern from no less than six different entry points in every direction, leaving us unable to cover or defend any one area. In hindsight, the initial lightning strikes we heard were not designed to gain entry or collapse the roof; they were simply meant to dig out holes in which the Ravens could place their charges, which they could then detonate all at once.

Whoever planned it, it worked brilliantly as we were completely overwhelmed; the shock of their initial assault costing us thirty soldiers almost immediately before we could recover our senses.

Methinks you may blame or credit Centurion Tempest Umbra, the ranking Raven in the area, Captain, as he relieved Legate Galea and took over the planning and overall command of the attack under circumstances I will describe in a future chapter. But suffice it to say for now, Prelate Gaius was most displeased with the legion leadership for their conduct of the Epsilon attacks.

—Layan Kaval

Of that, I have no doubt, Ambassador. Methinks I, too, would have been livid given the circumstances and such egregious errors in judgment. But whatever the shortcomings of their earlier efforts, the 16th Talon Legion made up for them here.

And before I forget, thank you very much for coming to visit my father, Ambassador. Your presence and that of Marquess Ampok was appreciated, as was the efforts you went through to help arrange gryphon assistance for my father’s operation.

—Firefly

To the Death

Barely thirty seconds had elapsed since the initial entry, and yet already, I was down nearly three dozen soldiers. At that rate, we had but two minutes left before they wiped us out, and worse, fresh sky gryphon soldiers were still surging in until their forces in the cavern outnumbered ours nearly three to one.

‘Twould not have availed them if we were rested and fighting Talons, but against elite Knights and deadly Ravens following a full day of continuous alerts and combat on little rest, we were taking worse than we got. My soldiers were half a wingbeat slow, their wits and reaction times sluggish, and it cost them facing such skilled enemies as the sky gryphon Wind Knights and elite assassins we were facing.

But fight we did, knowing there was no quarter here; we would, as the song we had sung earlier that night said, keep them stalled until the last pony fell.

And one gryphon. To my surprise and consternation, instead of staying behind, Gavian joined me and Swift Strike against the seven-strong Raven team we were facing, charging in right behind me. Methinks I was unaware he was there until he blocked a Raven blade aimed at my head, going back to back with me in the air.

“Gavian!” I shouted at him, motherly instincts still asserting themselves even though I knew full well they would spare him no more than us, and perchance even less. “Get back!”

“No, Mother!” he shouted back. “I swore to fall with you! And I will!” he proclaimed as he attracted the attention of no less than two of the grey-dyed warriors, who were giving me and Swift Strike all we could deal with and more.

‘Tis worth noting that I had in fact fought Ravens once before, slaying three in their attempt on Gavian’s life back in January. But then, they’d broken into my stateroom blind and Swift Strike had been able to wound two almost immediately, holding their attention long enough for me to escape my own opponent and strike them down. In fact, the one unwounded Raven I’d fought could probably have beaten me given a bit more time; even with all my training and all my Guardspony strength and speed, I’d only barely been able to block her blows.

The action having revealed a weakness in my combat abilities, I’d immediately started intensive close-quarters blade combat training with Swift Strike afterwards. Under his tutelage, I was far better at it now, even if I still couldn’t beat him one-on-one, but this Raven team was well-chosen and trained for their task as ‘twas all I could do to hold them off and stay in the air.

Three took on the Sky Sergeant whilst two attacked me, leaving me once again only barely holding my own against such superb skill. Any more would have slain me, and methinks ‘tis likely I would already be dead had it not been for Gavian fearlessly engaging the remaining two at once, whirling and spinning his blade with incredible speed. The Ravens seemed amused, then surprised by his agility and ability to parry their strikes, doubly so when he scored a hit on one, penetrating his leather armor and leaving a bloody line on his chest!

Whilst her comrade clutched at his wound and staggered back, the unwounded Raven eagless he was also fighting shouted something at him in Aeric, to which Gavian shouted back in the same tongue before engaging her again.

She said I was unworthy of my Raven blade, mother. To which I told her to try and take it!

—Gavian

Well-spoken indeed, my son. And very well-fought for you to survive them unscathed!

Whilst we engaged the Ravens, the dozen or so Knights that formed the vanguard simply stormed around our flanks to hit our grounded forces. They met stiff resistance from Sky Sentry and the two remaining Celestial Guardsponies, even drained and injured though they were; I caught a glimpse of Still Way fighting not with his depleted aura but with two of the light blades unicorns favored for being easily levitated and whirled about, whilst Steelheart still had his crossbow and surprised one Wind Knight by leaping up to catch him and slamming him hard to the ground.

Further away, my platoons were being steadily ground down, fighting in isolated enclaves, Fell Flight’s and Osprey’s battling with their backs to the cavern wall. Others were trapped in the middle of the cavern, exposed and under assault from all sides, being reduced within a shrinking perimeter by the Ravens and their Wind Knight allies.

This begged the question of why only sky gryphons were participating in the attack, but my answer was received quickly as a fresh century of earth gryphon soldiers marched in through the broken vault doors in phalanx formations, spears and shields wielded, Knights in front and Talons behind. Worse, two more Magus Knights accompanied them, and, at the shouted orders of their leader, the Ravens broke contact having only lost two of their number, both wounded and not dead; their team having successfully pinned their most dangerous adversaries—me and Swift Strike—in place and prevented us from aiding our forces.

Methinks I didn’t realize what was happening but fortunately, Swift Strike did. “Scatter!” he called out in panic before taking evasive action, but confused, perchance due to physical or mental fatigue or perchance being dazed by the explosive gem that detonated in their wake, methinks I was half a second slow in recognizing the threat, only catching on when the end of a mage’s staff crackled with electricity, shortly before it was pointed directly at me.

The male gryphon mage had me in his sights with his spell already being cast; I had no chance to dodge. ‘Tis certain all I could do was steel myself and attempt a deflection of a full-strength magus bolt—something I’d never been able to do with the equally strong ones fired from our storm clouds.

Methinks I almost succeeded. There was a blinding flash and ear-ringing boom at the electrical impact that blasted through my hurriedly raised guard, knocking me out of the air and sending me plummeting twenty feet to the ground, my ears ringing and body numb. I hit the cavern floor hard and bounced once before settling to a stop, the passage of my body carving a short furrow in the ground.

“Mother!” I dimly heard Gavian’s voice call out and had some sense of him standing over me, reared up with his sword wielded to defend me. My lightning affinity had saved my life, but the bolt had still done its damage, even aside from my singed and smoking fur. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. It was all I could do to simply breathe, barely noting the taste of blood on my lips as I let out a labored cough. And my gaze was locked forward, leaving me looking out the gaping opening the destroyed vault doors had left behind, staring directly into the first rays of the rising sun… and somehow, thinking how beautiful it was compared to the carnage around me.

Odd things go through your mind at times like that, and in truth, ‘tis difficult to describe how I felt at that moment. Sorrow at the loss of my battalion and our impending defeat. Regret at having been taken out so easily and having not been able to slay even one additional adversary in our final fight. Chagrin that ‘twas now Gavian who was protecting me instead of me protecting him.

And to what is now my great shame… relief that ‘twould soon all be over.

As I realized I was helpless and my life flashed before my eyes, I reflected that I had done my duty. Indeed, I had done all I could. The gryphon losses we had inflicted were grievous and we had held up their advance for an entire day. We had done all honor required for Princess and Province, and ‘twas then, as I remembered the old pegasus belief that the rising sun led the way to the Summerlands for fallen warriors, that I awaited death and those first rays of light that washed over me to take me to that mythical realm.

At that moment, methinks I embraced death. Neigh, I welcomed it as I dimly heard the sounds of battle around me and saw the Ravens closing in again; heard a few mingled pony and gryphon screams while both Gavian and Blindside fought to defend me. “Mother!” a tearful Gavian pleaded as he fought. “Get up!”

And then, I lost sight of everything except the rising sun.

I must take a moment to pause and gather myself before I continue. I said earlier after previous revelations that ‘twas my turn to reveal something I’d kept secret for all these years. Something I still have trouble talking about to this day. ‘Twas an experience that would touch and shape me not just this night, but throughout the war going forward.

An experience that told me that there was something beyond the grave, and the stories of the Summerlands were not just idle ones.

—Firefly

At The Edge

Many are the tales of near-death experiences I have heard over the years, most from soldiers but some not.

Odd things happen when we get close to death, as mayhap the barriers between life and death weaken in these moments. Some say your life flashes before your eyes, and you see a great tunnel of light; a stairway to the Summerlands—or whatever your race’s version is of it—that beckons you forward, inviting you to join that light.

Such it was for me as I took the sun itself as that stairwell and found myself mentally reaching towards it… only to find my way suddenly blocked and myself somehow back in basic training again, crawling through the mud in an attempt to overcome an insurmountable obstacle. I was screamed at quite loudly as well, though at first I couldn’t make out the words.

Methinks I certainly knew who the source was, though! For who else would be shouting at me in such a setting but my trainer and mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear, standing over me like I was faltering back on the obstacle course in basic again!

“Get up, recruit!” he yelled at me, standing over me even as I lay unmoving on that cavern floor. “I didn’t spend six months training you for you to fall so easily, and on the very first day of war! Now pull your sorry flank together!” he ordered imperiously, causing me to automatically try to obey, my muscles only sluggishly starting to respond.

“S-Sergeant Major…?” I might have said the words out loud or just in the vision; methinks I’m not sure to this day which it was as I tried and failed to raise my head. “I can’t rise… we can’t win…” I protested silently as I heard and saw the battle around me as if through a tunnel, everything moving and sounding unnaturally distant and slow.

“Can’t win?” He repeated derisively. “You are a soldier of Equestria, recruit! The finest warrior I have ever trained! You’re not done yet! And neither is your force! Now show the determination you did in basic! Show that you won’t give up! Do you hear me, recruit? Stand and fight!” he ordered me again, somehow acting and speaking as if he was there at Epsilon instead of in the basic training workout I found myself in.

He then reached down to yank me to my hooves—something ‘tis certain he never did in basic!— and incredibly, I felt reinvigorated at his touch, fresh energy surging through me, mobilizing my muscles again as he spoke his final words. “For if you give up here, so close to victory? Then methinks you really are no better than a castle maid!”he repeated one of his favorite insults towards me, one that ‘twas always guaranteed to get a rise out of me during the first weeks of training.

Such it was here as I felt a white-hot anger take hold of me and my teeth clench as I swore I’d prove him wrong yet again. I knew not what he meant by ‘victory’, but it mattered not as adrenaline surged through me. With fresh power and determination somehow imparted to me by the Sergeant Major himself, I forced myself to rise; to fight, still looking into the rising sun…

Which was suddenly blotted out by a large shape moving overhead, taking position outside the cavern entrance.

Such was my first near-death experience, and ‘tis one that still haunts me to this day.

I did not know the Sergeant Major was dead at that point, of course, but once I learned he had fallen heroically many hours before in the raid on Fort Spur, my memories of the event took on new meaning. Was that truly him? Had he reached out to me from the Summerlands itself to save me? To pull me back to my hooves when I felt at my lowest point and ready to give in; ready to die right then and there?

I know not the answer to this day, only what I still sense in my heart—that the vision I saw ‘twas no mere hallucination; that Windshear himself was with me in that moment, kicking my flank ‘into gear’ as Naval Engineers say, one final time.

—Firefly

A touching story, Captain. One that I, too, would like to believe was real and that our fallen comrades yet wait for us to join them following a well-lived life.

Before I continue the tale, I would like to offer my sincerest apologies that it took so long for the battle group to get to Epsilon; that I chose to delay our arrival to allow their final attack to be launched first.

To this day, there are times I still wonder if we could have safely gotten there sooner as Tailwind wished and saved more of the battalion, but I keep coming back to the same reasoning I had then—that to attempt to do so would have made success less likely, not more, if we arrived before daybreak and revealed ourselves before the attack was launched.

In any event, I must return to Stalliongrad soon, but I did wish to see Admiral Tailwind one last time with him a bit more lucid. ‘Tis hard to see him so weak and ill, but true to form, he remains endlessly upbeat and determined to persevere, just as he always was. He tells me he wishes to contribute to this battle tale himself, and believes he will be able to do so given another day.

—Commodore Shady

Ship of the Line

Gryphon Territory
EAS Loyalty
2 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0542 hours

Over twelve hours after departure from Stalliongrad, we were finally closing on our objective. And for it, methinks the final five minutes of our approach to Epsilon were the most harrowing of our collective lives.

In truth, despite the calm airs I was projecting, my insides churned. Methinks I was amazed we’d made it that far without being detected, but as we dropped out of the clouds to likely reveal ourselves on our descent towards the outpost, I found myself praying that they wouldn’t look this way for just a bit longer.

Then again, with the sun at our backs and some fog still in the air, they would have to be looking for us to see us. And it quickly became apparent that they were not.

For why would they be looking for Equestrian airships approaching from the gryphon side of the border out of the rising sun?

As we descended and closed the final few miles at flank speed, myself and my security entourage tethered to the forward observation deck to anchor ourselves against the hurricane gale we experienced at such a pace, we saw that all their forces were now concentrated around the cavern; they were using an entire millennium of soldiers to try to root them out, with block formations on the ceiling and ground outside waiting to enter along with several centuries of circling airborne troops. Methinks it seemed a grotesque amount of overkill for trying to take out a two-hundred strong unit, but after the losses they had suffered, ‘twas clear they were not playing games any longer.

Unfortunately for them, in making themselves static, their ground forces had also left themselves easy prey to our cannons and magical ballistae. Even as oft-poorly as our gunners had performed in all the drills we’d had on the way over, they could hardly miss such stationary targets as we got within range, and for the first time, I saw a few gryphon heads turn towards us both in the air and on the ground, some puzzled and some alarmed. A few talons were shortly pointed our way, which caused even more heads to turn.

We stood revealed, but for the gryphons, ‘twas already too late. We had them in our sights, and as we closed within one mile, I gave my first orders of the battle, shouting commands in to my communication crystals.

“Loyalty! Come to full stop! Loyalty gunners! Target the ground formations with our magical ballistae and follow up with conventional cannon fire against the skylights! Duty and Vigil! Scatter their airborne soldiers and begin orbiting the redoubt! Keep their forces at bay and off the Loyalty!” I commanded, waiting for acknowledgements to come back and the guns to open up, which they did with a thunderous roar to surprisingly good effect.

‘Twas the first time I’d seen our magical ballistae unleashed in a full volley; each gun launching glowing violet balls of pure magical force trailing sparks which hit and erupted with devastating concussive effect, leaving entire ground formations pulverized beneath the Loyalty’s barrage. The follow-up volleys by the conventional cannons on the lower decks were little more than an afterthought as, the surface targets destroyed, they shortly cleared the skylights the gryphons had been using to force entry into the cavern, clearing the way for our forces.

‘Twas a spectacular—to say nothing of very destructive—display, and methinks ‘twas one that made my heart swell with pride to finally see the full wartime potential of my beloved ship—to say nothing of the Royal Navy itself!—unleashed. In fairness, the Duty and the Vigil had less success, with fewer guns and lacking magical ballistae and targeting airborne forces as they were, but their percussion fire still got a few lucky shots in and succeeded in driving back the mostly-Talon formations, who all but recoiled from the unexpected bombardment, several dozen of their members falling dead or maimed from the sky from the cannonballs that burst amongst them.

We had the initial advantage, and ‘twas time to make the most of it; we had what I estimated at most to be five minutes before the gryphons reorganized themselves to face the new threat and retaliated—we needed to get the Epsilon battalion aboard in that time! And to that end…

“All squadrons! Launch! 1st and 4th groups, defend the Loyalty! 2nd and 3rd groups, go in through the cavern ceiling! Clear the space and make contact with the Corps troops!” I called out next to reinforce my earlier instructions—this had been planned, of course, but it still never hurt to reiterate orders—and was rewarded by over a hundred dark-uniformed shapes shooting out the Loyalty’s belly hatches, half taking station around the ship and the other half streaming towards the cavern in passable formations.

“Aye-aye, ma’am! Air wing engaging! 2nd and 3rd groups going in!” Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight acknowledged, leading the cavern assault personally. On her heels, six of our twelve available ten-pony squadrons took position outside the ship while the other half charged into the cavern through the skylights the gryphons had blasted in the ceiling, now cleared of enemy soldiers by our guns. ‘Twas clear they’d used those freshly-made holes to surprise the Corps troops within, and in a rather ironic turn, we would now be using the same holes they’d made to surprise them!

Methinks I marvel at your ability to command the battle and juggle the many disparate elements of your battle group at once, Commodore, from the movements of your air wing to calling out targets for your gunners all the while maneuvering your ships to maximum effect. For all my wartime experience, naval tactics continue to be the one area I lack sufficient knowledge of, and ‘twas quite an education you gave, both to us and the gryphons!

In the end, all I can say is… well done. And thank you.

—Firefly

Arrival

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0544 hours

Methinks that at first, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing was real, or just some lightning-caused hallucination or dream that preceded my own death; a forlorn hope of rescue my dying consciousness was trying to somehow will into reality.

I barely had time to register the presence of the large airborne shadow outside before a thunderous barrage of fire, consisting of both physical and magical projectiles, erupted from its flank and belly, hitting outside targets and seemingly concentrating on the entry points the gryphons had used to blast their way in. The bombardment caused sudden consternation from the gryphons around us, who looked around in bewilderment no less than us.

What…? I remembered thinking, struggling to focus on the strangely familiar shape before me.

As it got larger and more of the sun was blocked out, a thrumming sound from its rear-facing propellers becoming prominent, my eyes refocused and the shadow impossibly resolved into the silhouette... of what looked like a Royal Navy Airship!

I barely had time to register that unlikely fact before a series of new figures surged into the cavern through the ceiling skylights, dozens of dark-dressed pegasi clad in what I eventually recognized as rarely-seen Naval Pegasus combat uniforms fanning out to engage the gryphons, who were caught completely off guard and not looking up.

Remarkably, they were armed with not just wingblades, but crossbows, as I saw a score of gryphons fall to them, several Knights charging the new arrivals only to have a squad-sized volley loosed in their collective faces; a mixture of armor-piercing and explosive bolts either killing them outright or knocking them to the ground, leaving them easy prey for wingblades.

The mages stationed at the front doors turned and raised their shields, trying to bring down the behemoth before them with lightning spells, but they took the full brunt of a magical volley that slew them quickly, smashing through their shields like stones thrown through a window, and with the loss of their Magus, the Ravens and Knights immediately fled the gaping opening that now left them vulnerable, making for the holes on the floor and far sides of the cavern.

The gryphon defenses split, my beleaguered forces launched an immediate counterattack, catching the Knights between us and the reinforcing naval soldiers as the latter’s leader spotted me and dove for me, skidding to a halt before me.

“Master Sergeant Firefly!” she shouted, saluting me hard even though she bore a clear officer rank above her bloodied wingblades. “I am Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight of the EAS Loyalty! We’re your relief and your rescue, ma’am!” She announced, and without any further preamble, she passed me one of the dark blue communications gems the Navy favored.

“The Loyalty?” I blinked, finally able to place the familiar shape, its name emblazoned on its side as its cannons continued to roar and spit both magical and more conventional fire. “F-father?” I called into the gem, scarcely able to believe what was happening, and a look around showed my remaining forces—Blindside, Gavian, Sky Sentry and even Swift Strike—all likewise looking outside and gaping at the incredibly unlikely sight of the airship hovering before us. “Father?”

“Greetings, Commander Firefly,” A response came quickly, not from father but from an all-business female voice speaking in clipped tones. “Your father is here, but cannot converse right now. I am Captain Shady of the Loyalty, acting commander of Royal Navy Battle Group Four! We have but mere minutes before the gryphons shake off their shock and counterattack! ‘Tis unlikely that we can resist a determined effort, so we need to evacuate your battalion now, Master Sergeant!”

“Evacuate...?” Methinks I was having much trouble getting my head back into the game, still feeling the effects of the lightning bolt and the hallucination—or was it?—of the Sergeant Major that I was. The implications of it chilled me, and still does to this day. “Right. We have many wounded, Captain, and non-pegasi among us! Short of carrying them all on our backs, we have not the means to get them to your ship!”

“No need, Commander. We are already dispatching our lifeboats for the purpose,” she promised me, followed by a pause I could only assume meant she was giving another order—a thought that ‘twould seem to be confirmed as several of the Loyalty’s small transport dirigibles detached from the upper decks and began their descent towards the cavern. “But they are vulnerable in flight and we are still heavily outnumbered! Load them up quickly, and I will order our air wing to defend them! Any Corps soldiers you can spare for the effort would be welcome as well!”

“Understood,” I acknowledged as I finally felt the power of flight return to my wings. “Oh! And Captain? Advise your forces that there will be one friendly gryphon among us! He is dressed in blue-painted Talon armor and is not to be harmed!”

“We are aware of your son, Commander,” Shady said after another short pause and what I guessed were another set of orders shouted into a second communication crystal. “I have passed that information along to our pilots and air wing to expect him! Now load up!” Another cannon volley punctuated her statement as the Loyalty’s guns turned on the airborne gryphons, which were already starting to reorganize and probe their defenses.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” I answered as if I was Navy as well. The rank equivalents and chain of command were somewhat nebulous between the Corps and Navy, but as battle group commander, she was most certainly a superior officer. Her orders given, I turned to the remnants of my garrison and spoke into my blue gem. “Alright, wounded and healers go into the first lifeboats! Earth ponies onto the next! Everypony who is able, fly interference with the Naval troops! ‘Tis certain the gryphons won’t let us just fly away after all this, so we need to cover our retreat!” I told them all.

Hearing no immediate acknowledgment, I turned to see the remains of my battalion. Methinks they were every bit as dazed and disbelieving at the unlikely turn of events as I was, perchance uncertain that our rescue ‘twas really happening. “Move!” I shouted into my blue gem again as the first lifeboat alit just outside the ruins of the vault doors, and the Airedale beckoned us forth, a detachment of additional longbow-wielding naval unicorns providing it a modicum of defense.

With my final exhortation, exhausted, battered and bleeding though they all were, my remaining forces rousted themselves for action one final time. Fell Flight did not wait for further instructions before beginning to bark out orders, using our eighty or so remaining effectives plus some of the naval troops to form a defensive ring around the vault entrance. The gryphons were dead or had fled out the holes they entered, but ‘twas certain they would soon return. “Gavian, I’m staying here until everypony is out. You go on the second lifeboat as well!” I instructed him as an aside.

“No, Mother!” he said vehemently. “I will not leave your side! I will not leave this place until you do!”

“I’m not going either!” Sky Sentry said, holding a bloodied gryphon blade in his mouth. “This time, I won’t leave anypony behind! Everypony gets out! Even you, Master Sergeant!” he declared as our remaining two healers began levitating wounded onto the lifeboat, assisted by the unicorns there. Others were put on backs and carried there at Stormrunner’s direction, who I noticed had a broken-off spear still lodged in his side where it had penetrated his flank armor, blood from the wound dripping off his left foreleg.

“Master Sergeant? Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” he said in clipped tones as he directed his platoon, reduced now to barely a single squad, to the effort. His force had suffered the worst of all between the storm and the latest battle, but judging by the dead Knights around the area he had come from, he had acquitted himself well yet again. “I can still fly and fight!”

I had no time to answer before there was a fresh explosion, this time from the ground below fifty yards away and off to one side of the cavern. The floor somehow both caved in and blew up as the Dogs gained access with Raven help, and an entire century of Ravens and Fortis Knights burst out, visibly enraged that we were threatening to slip their trap. And at their forefront, charging in with battered armor and a massive axe...

Stormrunner spotted him before I did, and his features contorted in a snarl I’d never seen on his face before. “Centurion Nael!”he shouted, his wound and our evacuation abruptly forgotten as he marched forth to face him, wings flared in anger and murder in his eyes.

“For the honor of Equestria and Celestia herself, I challenge you to single combat! Face me as you promised, so that I may end your life now!”

To this day, methinks I do not know if he was more brave or foalish to make that challenge, considering the outcome. But ‘tis a story I will leave for him to tell. The last word in this chapter I will leave to Commodore Shady, who has elected to stay an additional night before returning to her stateroom on the Loyalty.

—Firefly

Thank you for indulging me yet again, Captain. ‘Twas indeed my intention to leave before nightfall, but I find I simply cannot depart yet whilst the Admiral is not out of danger. ‘Twas he who gave me my start in the Navy, which turned out to be the only job I ever held and was good at. ‘Tis certain I thus owe it to him to remain here, offering what company and comfort I can.

—Commodore Shady

Boarding Attempt

Pony/Gryphon Border
EAS Loyalty
Over storm cloud vault entrance
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0545 hours

“Ma’am? We’ve got trouble!” The commander of the Duty, Lieutenant Commander Sterling Silver, called to me. She was normally the first officer of the old escort, but Commander Bowline had been on leave in Fillydelphia when the news of the invasion came in. “Fresh Gryphon cohort approaching from the south!”

I turned to where she indicated and frowned, sighting the large formation of Talons winging in and trying to climb high to get clear of our guns. They clearly intended to dive on what they likely assumed were our most vulnerable points—the dirigible balloons that held us aloft.

“I see them,” I acknowledged, then switched crystals, smiling thinly—they didn’t know how our ships worked or what their defenses were, and if we played our cards right, ‘twould be their undoing. “Commander Tailwind, they’ll be going for our ballonettes. I believe you know what to do?”

“’Twould be my greatest pleasure, ma’am!” he replied, and satisfied, I then issued new orders as I turned my attention back to the ground below, where the first loaded lifeboat was taking off.

“All ships! Gryphon counterattack imminent! Cohort inbound from the south! Take defensive posture and prepare to repel boarders!”

“There is only one kind of failure I cannot tolerate: the failure to risk failure.” —Richard Marcinko

Author's Note

Hey, folks! Sorry this has taken so long but work has not let up and I’ve been distracted by various matters. Sorry to not finish this here, but I decided I’d made folks wait for long enough. You’ve been patient, so here you are. Obviously, plenty of action ahead for the final chapter of the Epsilon battle, and you’ll see some of our newest friends in action for the first time. I hope you enjoyed the close-quarters combat and Firefly’s near-death experience here, and as you can see, our gryphon friends were NOT fucking around after what happened earlier. They’re royally pissed and had a very good plan this time.

Thanks go to AJ_Aficionado, SIlentwoodfire and Denim_Blue for the quick turnaround on the chapter. I took this from 1200 words to 7200 in the space of a day, pretty much, and they were kind enough to review it quickly for me. No graphics this time, only because there isn’t that much maneuver to show and I didn’t want to delay. Enjoy!

The War Begins: 19 - Escape from Epsilon

Dear readers—

Three days into his recovery, father remains deathly weak and ill. He can barely eat, let alone move, and his voice, once so commanding, is now feeble and raspy. And yet, for all that, he remains determined to not only survive, but contribute to this tale once more—a far cry, methinks, from how reluctant he originally was to pen his own entries in this tome; ‘tis certain I had to prod him repeatedly to describe the Loyalty’s departure from Stalliongrad some chapters back!

‘Tis an odd thing that this recounting of the conflict has become his primary motivation to see his recovery through rather than getting to fly again. But as we found out during the war, the desire to fight on can come from some very surprising places. And as badly as I want him to get better, ‘tis certain I will not question it!

Father will indeed be contributing to this tale again, both in this chapter and as oft as he wishes going forward. Though he is presently unable to write or focus his eyes enough to read for more than a few seconds, he can still dictate. Gavian, to little surprise, has volunteered for the task of taking down his words—indeed, to his credit, he has barely left his grandsire’s side these past three days.

Ambassador Kaval and Marquess Ampok have departed for now. They are going with Princess Celestia to receive Queen Jeyenne, regent of the Gryphon Kingdom on an official state visit, who will be arriving at Polaris Base by one of the Kingdom’s own naval airships today. My herd has been invited to receive them, and though others of my herd may go, I have respectfully declined. I will see the Queen later at the state dinner, but for now, methinks my place remains here with my father.

‘Tis hard to believe that the tale of the Epsilon battle is nearly at an end, but much remains of it to be told as we found ourselves on the cusp of rescue but still facing annihilation from a skilled and determined foe.

—Firefly

Salvation

‘Tis a very hard thing, one must understand, to go from expecting and even accepting death to suddenly learning one might yet live.

‘Twas an unexpected lesson I had come to learn as I went from lying paralyzed and helpless on the dusty floor of the cavern, awaiting the Raven blade slash that would end my life, to suddenly seeing and hearing the arrival of the Royal Navy outside, witnessing their guns open up and their soldiers storm the cavern through the same skylights the gryphons had used, coming to our rescue.

Methinks I knew not how such a thing was possible—I knew from Father that the Loyalty and her escorts were based in Stalliongrad, twelve hundred miles away!—but ‘tis certain I only accepted that what was happening was real when I was passed a communication gem by the air wing leader and I heard Captain Shady’s voice for the first time, calm and commanding that she was. Perchance ‘tis just as well that ‘twas not Father that answered my call; methinks I’m not sure if I could have avoided breaking down completely if he did!

Even so, ‘twas very hard for me to suddenly start thinking tactically and giving orders again. Indeed, I was trying to roust myself back to action as I was still reeling from the lightning bolt that had struck me and my near-death experience afterwards. Fortunately, others were able to pick up my slack and a visibly wounded Fell Flight took up the task in my absence. She directed our combined forces into a battle line and formed a defensive perimeter around the tunnel entrance, which had now become our escape route and loading area for the lifeboats.

Methinks I was no less stunned than you at the turn of events, Captain, even without being struck by lightning! I cannot say I was intentionally ‘picking up your slack’, as I knew not your status then; I was simply doing what I saw needed to be done. Though methinks I had no authority to issue orders to the Naval troops, they obeyed me all the same, perchance because between my large bloodied form and predatory appearance, they were afraid not to!

—Fell Flight

Perchance you are right, First Lieutenant. Indeed, ‘tis certain that ‘doing what needed to be done’ has always been the signature of your service, both in war and in peace. ‘Tis to your immense credit, as well, for as it turned out, we would need that defense you set.

I understand you will be likewise leaving to receive the Queen in your role as Thestral Emissary and note that you have already dressed for the occasion. My apologies for the speeches and ceremonies you must endure, as I know your disdain for them.

—Firefly

Fear not, Captain. For I am to give a speech of my own, and there is a side benefit this time—as a gryphon ship is coming in, that means there will be much meat available for me and my bat-pony brethren at the state dinner!

—Fell Flight

And you are welcome to it, my old friend. Methinks that this time, you do not have to save any for me!

Attending the Queen’s arrival in my place will be Blindside and my herd’s beloved stallion, who, despite the belief he stated whilst we awaited the final gryphon attack that morn, has become a fine sire to say nothing of a very loving and attentive mate.

‘Tis to him I pass the quill now, with apologies for leaving him in the proverbial lurch with respect to the reception.

Worry not, my wife. Believe me when I say I endured far worse than an occasional state dinner whilst serving as a Celestial Guardspony. And even with those, they were no fun, as all we could do was stand at attention and observe, not allowed to partake of the Princess’ hospitality ourselves!

Greetings to all who read this. I am Cirrus Stormrunner, former Celestial Guardspony and founder of Dominion Academy, a combat school open to all races designed to teach friendship through fighting.

‘Tis a concept that leaves some scratching their heads, but ‘tis one I find a surprisingly powerful and harmonious way to create mutual bonds and respect. ‘Tis my new career, as I left the military when the war concluded, finding myself with not one, but two mares who wished to herd with me and bear my foals, both fellow Bolt Knights!

Recalling my failures as a herd stallion before, I was reluctant, but they were persistent, and we finally wed not six months after the war. Our ceremony was presided over by Princess Celestia herself, who told us all that our greatest duty to Equestria was not to die in war, but to live so that we might establish a line and pass on our legacy.

‘Twas a duty we saw to quite quickly, as it turned out, as within a year, Firefly had birthed a son and Blindside, a daughter, and more followed over the next decade and a half as we did our part to replenish our nation’s losses, with two more mares joining our herd. Despite the lost battles and battle wounds I endured, methinks the greatest lesson I took from the conflict—and from my future mares themselves—was to appreciate what I did have; to respect both friend and foe, and learn to turn loss or even crippling injury to my advantage.

As fate would have it, I would have to begin learning that lesson quite quickly when the Loyalty battle group appeared and our evacuation began. ‘Twas certain the gryphons would not let us go so easily, however, and I regret I forgot myself and my duty when one in particular appeared.

—Sergeant Major Cirrus Stormrunner (ret.)
Headmaster
Dominion Academy
Canterlot

Challenge Accepted

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0548 hours

“Centurion Nael!”I shouted into my blue gem as I beheld the Fortis Knight who had slandered Celestia in my presence, and who had then offered me a duel to settle such insults to honor.

Perchance if I was unwounded or calmer, the pain from the spearhead still lodged in my side a constant presence I couldn’t ignore, I wouldn’t have reacted so badly to the sight of him or risked my life—to say nothing of the evacuation—in a rather foalish confrontation, leaving the remains of my platoon behind just to try and slay one gryphon. But I’d been intent on the idea of dueling him since first meeting him, and suddenly, the opportunity to do so was in front of me.

“For the honor of Equestria and Celestia herself, I challenge you to single combat! Face me as you promised, so that I may end your life now!”

“Master Sergeant!”I heard Firefly’s voice call out from her own blue gem behind me. She was only just starting to organize the evacuation; the higher-pitched hum of lifeboat propellers making themselves known as they neared touchdown. “‘Tis not the time! Pull back, now!”

I knew she was right, but at that moment, either due to my wound, the insults to My Princess or all the losses my platoon had suffered over the past day, methinks I did not care. In fact, methinks I did something I never had before—disobeyed direct orders, ignoring her to walk right through our freshly formed battle line, my gaze never leaving Nael’s, whose eyes narrowed at the sight of me.

Somewhat remarkably, it worked, as he ordered his century of advancing troops to stop, to the shock of many, most notably the Ravens at the vanguard. “As you wish, Guardspony.” He announced his acceptance of the challenge, and then marched forward to meet me, leaving us facing each other but twelve paces apart.

“What are you doing, Centurion?” One of the Ravens, a sky gryphon tiercel, shouted in shock, going up to him. “We have no time for this! They’ll escape to the ships outside if we let them!”

“That matters not,” Nael grated out. “‘Tis a question of honor, not that I would expect an assassin to understand! I did indeed make him such a promise. And by my warrior blood, I cannot go back on my word!”

“You fool! You would let them go just for your honor?” the Raven asked derisively in Aeric as the battalion behind me took advantage of the reprieve to begin loading the wounded onto the Loyalty lifeboats, all keeping a wary eye on the standoff in back of them. “Methinks ‘tis your idiotic honor that cost us the chance for an easy victory here in the first place!”

Methinks I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but Nael’s only response was to lash out, quick as a manticore stinger, to grab his supposed ally by the throat with his metal-gauntleted talons and shake him hard. “I suggest you mind your tongue, assassin! Try to stop me, and I will crush your throat right now!” he promised, clenching his fist harder for just a moment, letting the grey-dyed warrior know he could do it.

“But sir—!” some of his Knight underlings were no more happy about that than the choking Raven was, who was either unwilling or unable to break free. “Let us at least engage his compatriots!”

“No! I said stand down!” He then flung the choking Raven aside, his emotions looking barely under control. “You may not attack them unless their vanguard flees! I promised him a proper duel! And so he shall have it!”

With that, he marched forward to face me. “Your challenge is accepted! The battle now turns on us! So present yourself, Guardspony!” he ordered, switching from Aeric to Equish, hefting his heavy, double-bladed battle axe. “For your dishonorable tactics this night, methinks your death and ruin is assured!”

“And for your slander of My Princess and unprovoked invasion of our lands, methinks I will take your life here and now!” I answered him attitude for attitude, a white-hot rage taking hold of me as methinks that at that moment, my entire world was reduced to him.

“We shall see, so-called Guardian of Celestia!” he promised, then pointed the business end of his double-bladed axe at me. “I am Centurion Cassian Nael of the Fortis Knights! And know that this duel is to the death!”

“I am Master Sergeant Cirrus Stormrunner of the Celestial Guard! And I would have it no other way!” And then without any further preamble, we launched ourselves at each other, weapons wielded, the first clash of our blades sending a shriek of metal upon metal echoing throughout the cavern.

Methinks that to this day, I am uncertain whether you were more brave or foalish to make that challenge, my stubborn but stalwart stallion. By rights, you should have been struck down right then and there, and ‘tis no doubt that naught but a little deeper into the war, such a scene would not even have been possible—perchance in part because this one happened.

But methinks I cannot deny that it worked out for us, given that Nael halted his attack just to fight you. Nevertheless, it did come at cost.

—Firefly

You do not have to remind me of that, my dear and oft-undiplomatic wife. Indeed, ‘tis certain I am reminded of it every time I look in the mirror. But nor would I take any of it back, even now. For in the end, it worked out for all concerned. Save the Imperials, of course.

—Stormrunner

‘Tis certain that Celestial Guardsponies are versed in far more than standard Guardspony combat techniques.

As our charge is to protect both Canterlot Castle and Our Princess herself, we receive much more training in close combat and melee situations, leaving us equally able to counter ground and airborne threats alike. We are strong, we are swift, and only the best of us ever receive the golden armor of Celestia’s personal guard.

On the gryphon side, Fortis Knights are masters of ground combat and heavy weapons; elite warriors who are also surprisingly formidable in the air despite their smaller wings and all the armor they carry.

They are the shock troops of the gryphon military to this day, and they take their title from the one who once saved the gryphon nation from the Cloven of the Sun, uniting the formally feudal society under a single banner against them. Their tradition is a long and proud one, and even the least of them are not to be trifled with in combat, let alone one who rose to the rank of Centurion!

But none of it mattered to me then. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have kept the battle in the air where my greater speed and maneuverability would tell. Had I been thinking clearly, I would not have demanded a duel at all, wounded as I was. Indeed, had I been thinking clearly, I would likely have forgone the challenge and ignored Nael’s presence to instead help Fell Flight command our battle line against the fresh force he led, buying time for the evacuation to proceed.

But ‘tis certain I was not thinking clearly then, and to this day I can only marvel at the outcomes. Determined to avenge an insult to Celestia’s honor, I ignored my future wife’s orders to demand a duel. Determined to beat the Centurion on his own terms, I then engaged him in ground combat, where the advantage was unquestionably his. And last but hardly least, he was unwounded whilst I was most certainly not, granting him an additional edge.

And yet, here I stood, ready to throw everything away to fight him; even willing to die in defense of My Princess’ honor.

Methinks that despite those outcomes, none here would say ‘twas your finest hour, Sergeant Major. In fact, ‘twas one of the most foalishly impulsive moves I’ve ever seen. And perchance you might consider that coming from me, ‘tis certainly saying a lot!

—Osprey

Thank you for your candor, Colonel. Though if you wish to talk about ‘impulsive’, perchance we may speak of your teenage son, Bat Hawk? Just last week, he tried to convince my youngest daughter to navigate the Castle Run with him at night with her eyes closed, and followed that up by drinking a bottle of Rainbow Factory Hot Sauce in her presence on a dare!

—Stormrunner

So I learned, as he was very sick afterwards and took several days to regain his sense of taste, to no sympathy from me. As she had done the hot sauce dare herself as a teen, Fell Flight then openly wondered if he was somehow her foal instead of mine!

—Osprey

Death Duel

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0551 hours

“Die, Centurion!” I shouted on my first pass only for my initial blow to be turned aside by his axe head, which he reversed to bring the heavy hilt down on my shoulders; a blow that could be crippling to a pegasus. But plenty of combat spars with Firefly herself meant I was faster than that and dodged it easily, attempting to use my superior speed and agility to rapidly reverse and bring my other wing up and then down in a sudden circular arc on the back of his neck.

Unfortunately, Nael was no neophyte in the realm of combat either, as he simply shifted his stance so that my wing only caught the top of his heavy Fortis Knight shield, still strapped to his back, and allowed his axe to come back into play, bringing it up almost as quickly as I had brought down my wing. A second wing-rattling collision occurred between our respective weapons, but his heavier one got the better of the exchange, knocking me askew and threatening to damage my wingblades.

Having gotten me off balance in the air, he followed that up with a simple blow from his talons, showing he could wield his heavy axe with just one set of them whilst curling his second set into a fist that connected with the side of my head, knocking me to the ground not far in front of his compatriots, who might have slain me easily right then and there.

None moved, however, as their discipline held, to the great and visible disgust of their attached Ravens, who were all but grinding the upper and bottom portions of their beaks together as they were held back from their killing work for reasons I can only imagine they thought as utterly stupid.

Nevertheless, Nael was their commander, and they obeyed his orders. “Killing me will not be easy, Guardspony. The Elder Rams learned that long ago,” he informed me in Equish with a smirk, replacing the axe on his back and then slowly marching towards me, having never taken flight in the opening moves of our battle himself. “Now get up! I would be disappointed if this ended so quickly!”

“What are you doing? You have him down! Now finish him!” The Raven leader demanded again as behind me, the first lifeboat lifted off and I saw that Swift Strike had joined our battle line, perchance on the commander’s orders, to some whispered words from his Raven counterparts.

“Shut up!” Nael snarled back at him. “He wishes satisfaction? He shall have it, and so shall I!”

Methinks the Raven was now actively considering striking me—or Nael!—down himself, judging by how his talons kept moving towards his blades, and ‘tis certain I was not the only one to notice. “Whatever you’re thinking, assassin, don’t. This Guardspony is mine!” Nael further warned, then raised his voice further to address the entire gryphon century.

“Listen and take heed, my fellow warriors! If the Ravens interfere in this duel, kill them!” he then ordered his Knight comrades in a booming voice, who looked unhappy but politely warned their erstwhile allies to stand down; I caught one saying that they did not wish to, but they would carry out their orders if they had to.

I would not wish to place odds on the outcome of a battle between a score of Ravens and four score of Fortis Knights, as much as I might have enjoyed the spectacle of an internecine conflict between them. Perchance if I had been in a less bloodthirsty or more clever frame of mind, I might have tried to take advantage of such a potential schism by goading the two sides against each other. But at this point? I regret I was too far gone, and yet… ‘twas hardly my original intent, but the duel ‘twas serving the purpose of allowing our evacuation to proceed as a second lifeboat lifted off and another landed in its place.

I dimly realized from the sounds of fresh battle outside that delay would work against us before too long, but for now, I had to keep this duel going for another minute, at least, for the final lifeboat to be loaded. One minute, I thought, in which I had to occupy and then slay Centurion Cassian Nael.

That, I decided as I pulled myself back to my hooves and cricked my neck twice to shake off his blow, ‘twould be a pleasure. “You are a true warrior, Centurion. But worry not about satisfaction. Worry about your life!” I told him as we began circling each other on the ground.

“I could say the same for you, Guardspony!” With that, he reared up to take a classic Fortis Knight combat pose, holding and then whirling his heavy axe in both sets of talons. “The only satisfaction I will have is in seeing your evil and insane princess fall!” This time, he goaded me, and I’m sorry to say, I fell for it.

With an angry snort, I bared my blades again and launched myself at him in another airborne pass. I cannot say how many times I’d been told over the years to never attack in anger, even by Still Way himself, and ‘tis a lesson I constantly teach as well at my combat academy.

‘Twas only here, however, that the truth of the lesson was finally driven home as he kept his wits about him and parried all my increasingly wild slashes with his spinning axe, aggravating me further by never leaving his hind legs to enter the air, using his wings for balance and rapid shifts of stance only.

Nor was I able to force him to do so, as only once did I find an opening to land a hard hoofstriker hit on his chin, which to my shock, did not even faze him as he shook off the blow with nary a grimace and then used my own momentum against me, grabbing my arm with his free set of Talons and flinging me up, head over heels.

I intended to use that tactic against him with a rapid midair spin that would give me fresh momentum and enable me to attack his head again, this time with far more wingblade force. Enough to allow me, I thought, to penetrate his helmet and end this fight in one blow. But ‘twas a dangerous choice of tactics as it meant I lost sight of him for a critical half-second whilst I completed my midair flip, and ‘twas only when I found myself staring his approaching axe blade in the face that I realized he’d predicted my strike, and I’d made a terrible mistake…

All this flashed through my mind but a quarter-second before it hit.

To this day, I do not recall the exact moment the axe struck me, and perchance ‘tis for the best. And yet, I can recall seeing the axe blade’s approach in uncanny detail, accompanying my realization that Nael had anticipated my move and that I had no way to block or prevent his counterstrike. It connected with my head and penetrated my helmet, despite it being even stronger than the Guardspony norm. It broke through the enchanted steel and knocked my head askew, shortly followed by knocking myself to the ground, sending me bouncing twice, helmetless, before I slid to a stop in the soft dirt.

Stunned, my vision went blurry, then black on the right side, not leaving me immediately aware of what was happening until I tried to rise only to falter again, a warm wetness telling me there was blood streaming down my cheek.

I could not see, but I heard the approach of Nael, as well as the horrified shouts of my own side. “Your challenge is met, Cirrus Stormrunner! The duel is mine! Now die, feeble excuse for a warrior!” the Centurion told me as he stood over me, then reared up to bring his axe down onto me with both sets of talons, intending to finish the job. And though I knew not the extent of my injuries at the moment, there was nothing I could do to stop him.

The blow never landed. “Gavian!” I dimly heard Swift Strike’s panicked call and suddenly, the next thing I saw—through my left eye only—was a blur of blue and brown as our young gryphon friend intervened, slashing off the top of Nael’s axe with his sword, sending it spiraling away.

“You dare, traitorous runt?” Nael called out in Aeric to outraged shouts from the gryphon side as I lay stunned and unmoving on the ground, only starting to understand as I tried and failed to rise again that I was, in fact, badly wounded, even if I knew not yet how.

The next words were Gavian’s, strong and sure despite the danger he was now in, and were the last I heard before I passed out from shock and a sudden surge of blinding pain. “I dare, Centurion! For the title of warrior and the life of the Master Sergeant, your next challenge... is me!”

As Osprey said, ‘twas not your finest hour, my dear Stormrunner, either in judgement or in battle. Methinks you knew better on both counts, and yet, ‘twas only through challenging the Centurion and delaying his assault—through not one but two duels he felt he had no choice but to fight—‘twas our escape allowed, and sufficient time bought to evacuate.

And yet, as I read through this account now, having not been able to watch it? I find it remarkable that every major decision and move you made here was wrong. Not the least of which is that instead of taking the fight into the air, you tried to best Nael on his own terms as an earth gryphon and failed, succumbing to his superior strength and surface fighting skills. Even now, all I can say is: surely you knew better?

—Firefly

I do now, my wife, as I paid the price and bare the scars of it to this day. But perchance I made up for it later? In any event, I regret I must depart now, as Queen Jeyenne’s airship will arrive shortly, and both Blindside and I will be part of her reception. Please give Father our regards and regrets the next time you see him, but we did not wish to wake him during the short time we were here.

—Stormrunner

I will. And indeed you did, if much later, both on the battlefield and in the bedroom! But the former is beyond the scope of this action, and the latter… well. Some conquests are best kept private!

As for myself, I was still overseeing our evacuation at the vault entrance and knew not what was happening at first, able only to dispatch Swift Strike to reinforce Fell Flight’s improvised battle line whilst I directed our remaining forces to escort the lifeboats along with the fresh naval troops. I shortly realized you were dueling Nael, and though at first blush I thought ‘twas a cunning move on your part to buy time even as I prayed for your victory, ‘twould seem it only worked out that way on accident!

What happened next was no accident, however, and though my heart dropped into my stomach to see it, ‘twas indeed the right move to make, and all honor belongs to the one who made it. For it, the quill is now yours, my brave and loyal son.

—Firefly

Thank you, Mother. And greetings to all yet again. I write this from the room where Grandfather rests and I keep vigil over him, hoping that the scratching of my quill will not disturb him. I, too, will meet the Queen eventually and am even scheduled to paint her portrait tonight; an enormous honor that will accompany her officially returning my gryphon citizenship and inviting me to Aresia to be received at her court.

She will do so over objections, as there are those even to this day that believe I am unworthy of it for siding with Equestria during the war, and once in a while I must still fight a duel for it.

I care not, as they, just as Nael did, learn that my size and upbringing does not mean I am unable to fight! In fact, I am told now that my hybrid style of combat is being adopted by smaller gryphons, who are no longer turned away from the military or combat schools because of their size. In many ways, I consider that my greatest accomplishment, even more so than my art!

On this first night of war, however, such days were unimaginable; I only wished to fight and die at Mother’s side. But as the Royal Navy improbably reached us and Swift Strike was ordered to our defensive line, I joined him without telling her, as I had already fought to defend Mother and I believed that the new point of greatest danger was where I belonged, this time with my Mentor.

I observed the latter half of the-then Master Sergeant’s duel with Centurion Nael, and with one Fortis Knight headfeather already to my name, I found myself with regret. Deep regret that I could not face the latter myself given how he’d insulted me earlier, telling me I could never be a warrior because of my size.

A regret that was quickly ended when Stormrunner fell and I saw Nael announce himself the victor, raising his axe with the intention of delivering the killing blow.

—Gavian

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0553 hours

‘Tis difficult to describe what went through my mind at the moment I saw Stormrunner, a mighty Celestial Guardspony and one of the few on base who could ever best Mother, felled by the Fortis Knight with an axe strike to his head that knocked him hard to the ground; one that left a large and bloody gash centered on the remains of his right eye.

Horror at the ugly wound. Dread as Nael marched up to Stormrunner, promising to finish him and the duel with a single slash of his massive axe, at which point I knew the cavern battle would erupt anew. Shock that I was shortly going to be witnessing my friend’s death. Disbelief that he’d had fallen so easily and he’d performed so poorly—my apologies, Father, but it’s true! Regret that by the rules of the duel, I could not save him…

And then I realized: What did I care about those rules? What did gryphon rules of honor mean to me anymore? I lived by pony rules of honor now, and they did not allow me to stand by whilst a good friend was slain! And thus did I act, leaping out from beside Swift Strike with nary a word to mark my decision; the only sound I made was to draw my sword as I flew towards Nael, and slash the top of his axe off as it reached the apex of his swing.

In truth, I must admit I wasn’t actually sure I could do it, but my perfect form combined with my finely-made and enchanted Raven blade was sufficient for the task, as my blow sent the double-bladed axe head spiraling away, landing hard on the ground several yards away, burying itself halfway in the loose dirt.

Methinks I could have tried to take his head instead, but I did not, for two reasons: first, I wanted Nael and all present to acknowledge my skill in battle—for his claiming that I could never be a warrior, I wanted to prove I was by beating the Centurion fairly! And second, I knew that if I did that, there would be nothing preventing the Knights and Ravens from attacking again. One duel had stalled them, but not enough as our escape to the Royal Navy airship overhead—methinks I did not even know such vessels existed before the Loyalty appeared!—was still not assured.

“Gavian!” I heard Swift Strike and several others call out behind me as I entered the improvised duel arena; I can only imagine what mother’s reaction must have been to hear my name called!

“You dare, traitorous runt?” Nael rounded on me, accompanied by outraged shouts from the gryphon side and shocked noises from the Equestrian one.

“I dare, Centurion! For the title of warrior and the life of the Master Sergeant, your next challenge... is me!”

Nael’s laugh was straight from the belly. “A duel? With you? Do not make me laugh! Methinks there is no honor or challenge in fighting one such as you!”

“Then methinks there should be no difficulty in killing me!” I shouted back, now standing over a twitching, bleeding Stormrunner, reared up with my sword drawn and taking an upright combat stance. “He is my friend! For his life and the escape of all Epsilon, I challenge you to single combat! You said I was no warrior? Prove it!” I goaded.

“Enough of this!” Once again, his Raven comrades were less than pleased and tried to dissuade him; I remember it struck me at the time how they seemed the most sensible ones there and the only ones to truly understand what was at stake. “Our time runs short, Centurion! They already have their wounded out! You need not face him, as slaying traitors is our job! So let us kill this refuse and be done with it!” The Raven leader demanded again, and for a moment, Nael wavered.

Fortunately, I knew my own kind well enough to know exactly what to say in response. “I see. So you will let the Ravens fight your battles for you?” I smiled sweetly at the Centurion, causing him to gnash his beak and growl. Having now two battles under my wings, and having slain a Fortis Knight in one and proven I could even hold off Ravens in the other, I was feeling far more confident in my abilities, and for it, the flow of words came easy.

“Do as they say, and methinks you will have a hundred witnesses to you declining to face a traitor but a third your size who insulted you to your face… you prissy, prancing peacock!” Methinks I said that last line with far too much glee as Nael instantly snarled and took a step towards me with pure murder in his eyes.

“Ignore him! We have but a minute left! Order us to attack!” The Raven pleaded again, only for the Centurion to violently shake his head, now looking barely in control.

“No!” he hissed out through a clenched beak. “Traitor though he is, he is correct—if I decline this challenge in front of an entire century of troops, I will become a laughingstock! And then, ‘tis certain that no honor can be attached to my name!”

With that, he discarded his broken hilt and was tossed a second, nearly identical axe by one of his compatriots, spinning it in a wide arc around his head before bringing it down hard, cleaving a large stone in two. “You had a chance to escape! But no longer! For taking my weapon and your insults to honor, you die here and now!” he promised me.

With that, I likewise spun my blade once and then pointed it at him, now speaking formally. “I am Gavian Ravenoff, an artist, son and warrior! To earn the title of the latter and to save the life of my new friends and family, I will defeat you! If I win, both I and our entire battalion leaves unhindered! Do you accept?”

“No!” The lead Raven couldn’t believe what he was hearing, only to be ignored again.

“And I am Centurion Cassian Nael of the Fortis Knights! Veteran of the war against the Elder Rams, and survivor of six campaigns! As they will never come to pass, your terms are acceptable! For the honor of the Empire and myself, I will end your existence, and shortly that of your so-called family!”

“We shall see! Now have at thee, coward!”I called, and with that, we shot towards each other, ready to end each other’s life.

With apologies, I must lay down the pen for now, as the presence of myself and Mother is shortly required at Canterlot Castle for my presentation to Queen Jeyenne, followed by a state dinner and my subsequent painting of her portrait.

‘Twould be a lie to say I am not nervous as I glance at my formal attire in the mirror, knowing that I will soon face the Queen of my race and successor to my parent nation for the first time.

In seeking some balm for my sudden surge of anxiety, I find my thoughts falling back to that long-ago day, when I faced my gravest test. And I tell myself that when compared to that, a royal visit is not scary at all!

—Gavian Ravenoff
Head Instructor
Celestial Art Academy
Canterlot

Thank you, my son. We are both off now, leaving Father behind for a few hours as much as I may not wish to.

But perchance the timing is fortuitous, as Father has awoken, and all but demanded the quill again. Though I would normally say he should not be straining himself, as weak as he still is, I also recognize that in the end, he is as stubborn as I am, and that his desire to keep contributing to this tale is part of what drives his recovery!

Please do not push yourself too hard, Father. Methinks I will be most upset to discover you died with a quill in your mouth in my absence!

—Firefly

Fear not, my overly-attentive and anxious daughter. In fact, I feel that you have the worst of this evening, as you must listen to endless interminable speeches whilst I just get to lie in bed and write!

In truth, ‘tis certain I wish I was there, greeting the gryphons in the Loyalty instead of leaving it to my second, Vice-Admiral Starlight Schooner. I admit the slow pace of my recovery is frustrating, and I find the inability to get up and walk under my own power utterly galling.

It should start getting better within a few days, I am promised, but my body’s natural magic and healing abilities must remain suppressed for now. And thus, I remain very tired and barely able to lift my head. But at least I finally have enough energy and muscle control to write, if given frequent breaks.

—Admiral Tailwind
Commander, Royal Navy
Polaris Base
Canterlot

Imminent Action

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0543 hours

‘Twas with some relief that I accepted command of the Loyalty in the Captain’s stead.

Methinks I was still very embarrassed at that point over my earlier outburst; my desire to challenge the Captain for reasons I finally understood to be short-sighted and selfish. ‘Twas certain I had no right to call her a coward simply for thinking strategically; for attempting to find the best balance between preserving the ships of the group whilst still finding a way to rescue the Epsilon garrison.

Methinks further she would have been well within her rights to relieve me at that moment, but she had not despite my grevious insubordination, recognizing it as an outburst born of fear over the fate of my family.

‘Twas during my second sojourn to the upper deck that I reviewed my actions and refocused my mind, recognizing that the Captain was right—that no matter how much I may love them, to save Firefly and Gavian was not the objective here. ‘Twas to extract the garrison, and then ourselves from occupied territory, rescuing the battalion and then running for home—a task that became nigh impossible if we arrived before the raid began, and with no more fuel for our engines.

Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, and my loyalty to Shady only grew for it. I swore I would not let her down again, nor allow my emotions to get the better of me, and ‘twas only then I returned below decks and gave a second apology. ‘Twas in front of the entire bridge crew that I offered to write myself up for gross insubordination and conduct unbecoming; even to resign from my post if she wished.

“‘Tis not necessary,” she told me with a smile, then reminded me that I would be needed to command the ship whilst she took the role of the absent Commodore Catamaran to direct the entire battle group in the engagement to come.

In the final half-hour of approach, we reviewed procedures and likely orders, as well as wargamed contingencies and what we would do for them. The other two ship commanders were in on our discussions, as were the respective bridge crews, as ‘twas good for them to hear what orders might be issued as well.

And thus did our twelve hours and circuitous fifteen hundred miles of approach to Epsilon reach its culmination on our final descent over the last twelve miles, the sun peeking over the horizon at our backs, just visible through the lingering fog and moisture in the air. ‘Twas agony to be told the final gryphon attack was going in and we were to allow it to happen, but ‘twas indeed the right decision. For it both saved us some fuel and allowed us to successfully ambush their ground forces, which were intent on their quarry and not so much on a potential threat closing from their rear.

As the Captain states, the sight and sounds of our guns opening up; the Royal Navy unleashing its might and firing its cannons in anger for the first time in half a century was a great moment of pride for us all, doubly so for the effect it had! Entire formations of gryphon soldiers were pulverized under the onslaught of our magical ballistae; I watched as two mages foalishly sought to challenge the Loyalty’s arsenal with lightning spells, only to be reduced to red mist by a subsequent volley which crushed their shields and annihilated them in an instant.

Our new magic-firing artillery, courtesy of the EIS’s Office of Magical Research, did their job well whilst our more conventional cannons cleared the topmost skylights for entry by our own forces, gaining us the initial advantage as the remaining gryphon soldiers scattered in confusion and fear.

Such would not last, however, as they circled out of range, trying to reorganize themselves and call in additional forces to challenge us. I did not hear Firefly’s initial call to the Captain, as the latter deliberately kept me out of that loop, perchance worrying that I might not be able to obey orders instantly if I started conversing with my daughter. I did, however, hear the order to launch lifeboats, which meant that against all odds, the battalion had survived and there were soldiers to be rescued!

I could not dwell on that fact or my fervent hope that my daughter and grandson were amongst them, as I kept our gunners busy and listened to our first casualty reports; the air wing had already lost a dozen flyers and one of the Magus lightning bolts had speared through one of our belly hatches to knock out the gun and its crew stationed there.

Healer teams were dispatched whilst I listened to Flash Fix frantically exclaim that the drain on the central crystal was worse than expected—“I dinnae think we can maintain charge for more than another two minutes, sir!”—forcing me to order the magical ballistae to shut down and the conventional cannon to take over the bulk of our barrage, saving our biggest and best guns for later.

Unfortunately, that was soon the least of our worries as lookouts reported a large force of Talons inbound from the south. But before I could warn the Captain, Lieutenant Commander Sterling Silver, acting Captain of the Duty, beat me to it as her transmission was overheard on the bridge.

“Ma’am? We’ve got trouble!” she called. “Fresh Gryphon cohort approaching from the south!”

“I see them,” Shady acknowledged evenly, having never once raised her voice whilst giving orders in the opening stages of the battle. “Commander Tailwind, they’ll be going for our ballonets. I believe you know what to do?”

I could all but hear the smile in her voice, which ‘twas one I now shared. I did indeed know, as ‘twas one of the scenarios we had planned for. “’Twould be my greatest pleasure, ma’am!” I answered, then issued new orders as Ensign Kusema reported the first loaded lifeboat was taking off; its crew warning us it was full of wounded and immediate healer support would be needed for several critically injured ponies.

“Inform sickbay to stand by. They’ll have to perform triage right on the boarding decks. All crew, clear the upper observation platform and head below decks! Flash Fix, prepare to silence our ballistae on my orders and redirect the full power of the armament crystal energy to dirigible defenses!”

“Full crystal power to the dirigible defenses? Are ye daft sir? We’ve never tried that!” He sounded shocked, and this time, he wasn’t just affecting airs. “The overload could burn our ballonets to a crisp!”

“And so could mages with fire and lightning spells!” I rejoined as the call from Shady came in again.

“All ships! Gryphon counterattack imminent! Cohort inbound from the south! Take defensive posture and prepare to repel boarders!” her voice sounded over general quarters.

I let those words sink in for a moment. “You heard the Captain, Commander! ‘Tis certain our standard defenses will not suffice against such numbers! Transfer power to the dirigible balloons on my orders, and then take up arms! Protect engineering and the main power crystal at all costs!”

“Aye-aye, sir!” he acknowledged unhappily. There was a brief pause, and I could then hear him hissing out his next words through gritted teeth, which I took to mean he was now wielding his broadsword in his mouth. “They won’t take down my bairns, or this ship!”

“Good stallion,” I unconsciously echoed Shady’s usual compliment to him, deploying my own wingblade for my good left wing. “Mister Sora, using lateral propellers, rotate ship twelve degrees clockwise and dip us fifteen degrees to starboard! Let’s bring all our port cannons to bear! We’ll give them one final volley of our magical ballistae before shifting power,” I informed all, waiting for Sora’s acknowledgment. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear a slight tremor in his voice as everypony but him stood up from their stations, ready to enter combat the instant the first gryphon figure was seen breaching the bridge doors.

That done, ‘twas time for more direct action. “All port guns, target the inbound force with starburst shells, conventional cannons fused to detonate at 100 yards and magical ballistae at 200 yards! Lifeboats and air wing, hold position below the Loyalty until volley released!” I further ordered as I heard Shady instruct the Duty and Vigil to increase speed and circle the Loyalty at slightly different altitudes, keeping the skies above it clear by catching any attackers in a crossfire that would also keep the two smaller ships out of the line of fire from each other’s guns.

Acknowledgements were received, and I waited until I saw the lifeboats stop and the gryphons had closed to within one hundred yards. “All port guns! Fire!” I ordered, and our guns answered instantly with another deafening roar that shook the ship as well as the air around us; a series of physical and magical projectiles bursting among the surprised gryphons to good effect.

Starburst shells were—and are—cannonballs that could be rigged to explode at a certain range, though that was more a function of time than distance, as the fuses had to be cut to a certain length in order to gain the effect. Even the magical ballistae had a variant of it through means I didn’t entirely understand, but they worked quite well as the lead gryphon forces were hit hard and then tried to scatter, our barrage sending nearly fifty occasionally badly mangled bodies raining to the ground below.

Despite their losses, they did not break their formations for the most part, half heading for the ballonets and the remainder trying to invade our various decks. “Flash Fix? Transfer power now!” I ordered as the first calls came in of gryphons on the upper decks.

“Transferring power… now!” he called back, and then I heard him give one last order to his crew to cover the doors to engineering before his connection was cut.

The mythril filaments that were woven around our ballonets instantly crackled with raw magical energy. They served two purposes: one was defensive, to channel a shield spell to protect our dirigible balloons; the incantation normally powered by energy from our engines and sufficient to deal with saboteurs or perchance even more minor raids like the Harpies might launch. I ordered the protection level ramped up here with additional power fed from our main armament crystal, to as yet unknown danger. And the other purpose?

As a damaged-but-intact two centuries of Talons descended on the ship with half headed for the ballonets, giant pink sparks erupted from the intersections of the filament web that covered them, magical electrical discharges that automatically reached out upwards and laterally for conductive bodies, whether they were living or metal, acting as what Corps weather teams would call scattershot bolts that made a very effective close defense. A few sparks even scoured the upper observation deck where I’d spent an hour or more earlier, slaying any gryphon soldiers unfortunate enough to have landed there.

The upper gryphon century recoiled en masse, with a score more falling wounded or dead to the ground. A lookout reported that an attached Magus Knight attempted to strike back with lightning of her own, but the enhanced shield spell prevented damage and the eruption of more sparks in its wake forced her to retreat, her own shield spell barely surviving the onslaught.

Still, I saw—and smelled—the mythril filaments starting to smoke, so I ordered Flash Fix to drop the crystal feed to quarter-power, hoping that the object lesson we’d given the gryphons on the danger of attacking our dirigible balloons directly would discourage them from trying again. I got only a very terse acknowledgment back, at which point I had no more orders to give.

For the entire bridge crew was shortly fighting for our lives against the Talon boarders.

As we return to the naval hospital late this night, I find you have written this, Father, and that the effort apparently exhausted you as I came in to find you lying on your back with your head propped up and the quill and parchment lying on your chest, the former having fallen from your open muzzle. The attendants also tell me you elected to forgo your dinner to write. I know you are an Admiral, but methinks you cannot simply order away your body’s needs!

But I am impressed with your latest entry, which shows much of how Naval ships operated back then, and even now. Joining me is Gavian, fresh from having his Kingdom citizenship returned. The Queen seemed very interested in him, and the fact that Ambassador Kaval personally presented him silenced much of the neighsaying about him, as my good friend and former foe pronounced him both a skilled artist and a mighty warrior, claiming that “there are few more honorable than he.”

The Queen then asked to interview Gavian alone, which she did. I am not privy to what was said, but Gavian must have impressed her as he emerged with not just his citizenship returned, but a preliminary sketch of her, which he promised he would turn into a full painting ‘in all her regal glory’ before her departure in three days.

But as Gavian has returned along with me, he wishes to continue his tale of the battle, and the duel he fought with Nael. Somewhat surprisingly, he tells me that he drew inspiration from that battle as he was speaking with the Queen, and wishes to explain why in further detail here.

—Firefly

Thank you, Mother. For the inspiration, methinks it goes back to what I said earlier about recalling the courage and confidence I felt at that moment as I faced mortal combat, and then simply drawing upon it again as I faced the Queen of my race and attempted to perform my art for her.

Out of respect for her station and the honor she showed me, I will keep what was said between us private, except that she wished to know—from my own beak—my story. She was impressed by its telling, and in the end, after testing both my sword and my pen, said she found me worthy of both my heritage and blade!

The duel with Nael was neither the first nor last time I fought in the war. Far from it, in fact. Yet ‘tis the fight I remember the most, for in my mind, in many ways ‘twas my most perfect battle, for the reasons I will now describe.

—Gavian

RWBY - White Trailer: Mirror, Mirror

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0554 hours

Methinks ‘twas only when Nael approached me that I understood how big he truly was.

With both of us reared up, he stood nearly twice as high as me, and even not counting his heavy Fortis Knight armor, he likely outweighed me four to one. ‘Twas certain as well that the difference in strength between us was enormous—he swung his massive axe with ease even though ‘twas certain I could barely lift it. Its shaft was as long as my entire body; each of its blades larger than my head.

And yet, I did not flinch, for I knew I could avoid it. Its large length meant there were only a limited number of means by which he could use it; mostly an overhead strike or a sideways swing. He could also thrust it, as it had a pike on the end, but I considered that less of a threat. Compared to the speed that the wingblades of Mother or Mentor could strike with, it may as well have been moving in slow motion.

I dodged his first strike with a backflip, then brandished my blade, speeding in to land an initial strike of my own; a ranging attack that struck but did not penetrate his armor and was more meant to determine his reaction times and how he would respond to the blow. He was not able to dodge or block it, but nor did he try, instead whipping his axe over to bring it down on my head. But I saw it coming ‘a mile away’ as I’d heard another earth pony term given, and darted behind him, following that up with a rapid succession of whirling slashes, each hitting progressively further up his metal-clad body.

Once again, none penetrated his excellent armor, though they certainly rattled him, and I was greatly gratified to see a look of genuine surprise on his face as he beheld my true speed and striking power; one Swift Strike had so carefully cultivated within me. Even the Ravens looked impressed, as several were speaking to each other in low tones, perchance discussing how best to slay me themselves.

If I had my way, they would not get the chance. But Nael this time surprised me as he was able to bring his axe around on me far faster than I thought he could—he’d been holding back!—whipping it backwards so I was forced to take the blow against my blade braced by my arm. I just barely hung onto my sword as I was knocked nearly ten paces back, but kept my balance.

“Die, traitor!”Nael pressed his advantage by charging in and taking to the air briefly for the first time to add momentum to his axe, bringing it down hard on the place I’d just been. But I once again escaped, using a single wingbeat to dart away laterally, intending to strike again whilst his weapon was down. But even in that short space of time, Nael was already bringing it up and around for a second strike, forcing me to dodge once more. He launched a forward slash, and then immediately reversed into a backwards one, forcing me to take the blow on my sword again, leaving me praying my Raven blade would hold.

It did, but I was once again knocked backwards and this time, flat on my back, forcing me to hurriedly flip up and away with my wings to take me out of his striking range. Once I’d recovered my bearings, I reversed course and charged him at full speed—or so I let him think.

I sped up even further just as I reached him, disrupting his timing and making his latest strike find only air whilst I went for his unprotected head, landing two strikes to both sides of his skull, the first rattling it through his helmet and second penetrating his armor at the very edge to reach his upper cheek below, a line of red quickly forming there.

“Die, murderer!” I rejoined, and knowing that I finally had him off-balance, I went for the knees of his hind legs next, trying to get them to crumple. They did not, but they disrupted his stance enough to preclude another axe strike, and this time I attacked upwards, my sword tip carving a furrow in his chest armor and then striking his chin, leaving a bloody cleft before I flipped in the air and dove on him again, this time landing a strike near his shoulder, trying to cripple a wing.

I was now fully confident in the fight outcome—perchance overconfident. I was indeed ‘running rings’ around him and his clumsy axe couldn’t find me. I hadn’t scored a truly deadly blow on him yet, but I was chipping away at his armor and my blade would find a way through it eventually. ‘Twas then he brought his axe around in another broad lateral swing I could easily avoid, which I did, leaping over it and readying to strike again. But I realized too late ‘twas a ruse as he’d swung it in one set of talons to free up his others; his left talons curling into a fist and finding the left side of my forehead, just missing my eye.

I was just barely able to turn away so my helmet took the brunt of it, but it was knocked off as I was sent sprawling, the powerful blow sending me twenty paces backwards through the air, stunned and bleeding from a fresh wound on my head.

“Gavian!” This time, I heard Mother’s call as she was now watching. With the evacuation of the battalion’s wounded and non-flyers completed, their withdraw left under the protection of Osprey’s platoon and several squadrons of naval pegasi, she had joined the cavern defense. She had planted herself in the middle of the pony battle line, to no surprise, intending to retake command to help fight off the Knights herself.

If all went well, ‘twould not be necessary. “Stay back, Mother!” I told her as I picked myself up again, blood from the wound flowing in a narrow stream down the left side of my face, bracketing my eye. “He is mine!”

“Mother?” Nael repeated derisively, to equal sounds of revulsion from the assembled Knights. “You call a leaf-eater pony your mother? How disgusting! Then you truly are unworthy of your race!”

The initial response I gave to that is too profane for these pages, so I will only repeat what I said after. “Disgusting, you say? My real mother abandoned me for being too small! Forced me to steal and scavenge from age six! Left me cold and hungry and wondering what I did to deserve it! Eventually forced me to whore myself out to a raider mistress!” Methinks my voice got louder and eyes blazed brighter with each phrase I spoke. “But the ponies took me in! Cared for me! Gave me a place and a purpose! Let me know family and friendship!” I told not just Nael, but them all.

‘Twas then I switched to Equish, wanting my next words to be understood by my pony friends.“You want to know why I side with them, Centurion? ‘Tis because they fed me! They schooled me! They let me become an artist and find a place amongst them! They even taught me the very combat style I’m now using against you! Let me become the warrior I always dreamt!” ‘Twasn’t entirely true as Swift Strike would say I developed my hybrid style on my own, but ‘twas also true that I couldn’t have developed it without him or all the practice I got with him, Mother and others.

“Methinks they have earned my loyalty, whilst all the Empire did was treat my life and talents as worthless! So as far as I am concerned, Centurion, you have it backwards! I am not unworthy of my race! My race is unworthy of ME!” I proclaimed to outraged shouts from the Knights who understood me offset by cheers from the Corps and Naval soldiers; the contest between our two sides now reduced to myself versus Nael.

With that, I resumed my guard stance and beckoned him forward with a goading motion of my talons. “So let us finish this! The sooner I slay you, Centurion, the sooner I may leave with my mother and all my friends!”

Nael was now seething. “Impudent young cub! Neither you nor your so-called ‘mother’ will leave this cavern alive!” With that, he charged me and our battle resumed once more.

Methinks I can only marvel at the turn of events, Captain, but perchance ‘twas indeed for the best, as it gave us a chance to deal with the outside forces. Trying to evacuate you in the chaos of the gryphon counterattack would have been a bloody and likely failing proposition. Which was not to say that our victory was assured without it!

‘Tis now noon the next day. I am shortly returning to Stalliongrad along with the Loyalty, which remains the flagship of Battle Group Capricorn to this day. ‘Tis a strange feeling indeed to find ourselves anchored in the air beside a gryphon airship, the GKS Arnau and her escorts, which brought the Queen and her court to Canterlot. I can remember many such instances during the war where such proximity would have meant we were exchanging cannon volleys and attempting to bring down the other, but now?

Now, we tour each other’s ships and our crews engage in some friendly but intense competition, whether aerial duels between our air wings or contests of cannon accuracy.

Here at the start of the war, however, ‘twas only Equestrian airships in the skies, and despite all the Royal Navy’s inexperience and oft-times questionable combat worthiness, those ships and their crews would become an integral part of the war effort, starting on this bloody second morn of war.

—Commodore Shady

Battle Joined

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0556 hours

“All ships! Gryphon counterattack imminent! Cohort inbound from the south! Take defensive posture and prepare to repel boarders!” I called out over the general quarters crystal.

Methinks I’d been getting pretty good at switching crystals rapidly, though I also began to wonder then if the Office of Magical Research could come up with a way for single crystals to cover all communication channels instead of just two or three. In any event, there was little time to consider such things, and no more orders I could give as the cohort descended; ‘twas now in the hooves, horns and wings of the individual ship crews.

Which was not to say the numbers couldn’t be whittled down. I listened in satisfaction as Commander Tailwind took care of that on his end by turning and tilting the ship to bring all the port guns to bear, whilst I ordered our air wing to stay out of the line of fire. “Lifeboats! Cease approach! Hold position by the cavern entrance! 1st and 4th groups! Stay clear of the Loyalty! Protect the lifeboats but be ready to attack the gryphon formations on my signal! Duty and Vigil! Increase to half-speed and orbit the Loyalty at a distance of 500 yards; the Duty at 200 feet higher than the Loyalty and the Vigil at 500 feet! Target any gryphons who attempt to hit us from above!”

I waited for acknowledgements and the ships to start visibly obeying my orders before shifting crystals again. “What’s the status of the cavern battle, Phantom Flight?” I asked next, wondering why I wasn’t hearing much from there.

I was half afraid she wouldn’t answer because she was dead, but her voice came back immediately, if somewhat quietly, like she didn’t want to interrupt something. “Uh… methinks you’re not going to believe this, ma’am, but… we’re not fighting! We’re watching a duel!”

“A what?” Of all the answers I might have received, methinks ‘twas the least likely short of the gryphons inviting us to settle our differences over tea and crumpets! “Between who?” I asked, only to have the answer drowned out by the roar of the Loyalty’s guns as they opened up again on the approaching gryphons. “What was that? Repeat your last, Lieutenant Commander!”

“I repeat, the duel ‘tis between my son and the gryphon commander, Captain!” A very terse Firefly answered in Phantom Flight’s place; methinks I could hear the fear in her voice. “He convinced their Centurion to fight him! We cannot leave until the battle is decided, or the Knights will attack and my son will be slain! The terms of the duel are such that if my son wins, we will be allowed to leave the cavern unmolested—if they keep their word!”

“Understood,” I answered equally tersely, wondering how in the name of Luna’s moon he pulled that off and if such an unlikely deal could even be trusted. “Commanders, the gryphons are counterattacking our ships! Our time runs short, so prepare to withdraw from the cavern on my orders, regardless of whether the duel is done!” I told both Firefly and Phantom Flight, and then prepared myself to meet the gryphons, looking around to see my improvised personal guard also ready to receive them.

“Aye-aye!” the pair of acknowledgements came back as I watched the gryphons recoil from the volley but then quickly reform their ranks, if down a tenth of their numbers, a century each heading for our escorts. Of the remainder targeting the Loyalty, half went high for our ballonets and the other half attempted to storm the ship directly.

‘Twas not the tactics I would have used in their place, as they were splitting their forces and hitting us from the flank, instead of concentrating their landings against our more vulnerable bow and stern, but perchance they were simply uncertain of what our weaknesses were and sought to hit everything at once in hopes of finding one.

‘Twas then that the dirigible defenses were activated with a crackling sizzle; from the pinkish hue of the arcing bolts and faint wisps of bluish smoke coming off them, twas clear that Tailwind had—very dangerously—ordered the full power of our armament crystal diverted to them.

I could only imagine the fit that Flash Fix was throwing over that, but ‘twas a necessary risk given the several gryphon mages and several hundred Talons they were throwing against us, and I found myself praying that the mythril filaments woven around the dirigibles could take the overload.

To my relief, they did, as another score of gryphons were caught by the bolts and sent plummeting, paralyzed or dead from the electric shocks whilst the Magus attacks failed to penetrate the ballonets’ magical shields. Abandoning their efforts to take us down by destroying the dirigible balloons, they then attempted to board us with all their remaining troops.

“Air Wing! 1st and 4th groups! Engage the Talons! Use your speed and whittle down their numbers with crossbow shots and hit-and-fly attacks; do not try to fight them squadron to squadron! And do not rise above the level of the Loyalty decks!” I told them, awaiting acknowledgment from the group leaders, who came out from behind the Loyalty from below, avoiding the still-sparking ballonets above. That gave them a disadvantage as they would not be able to dive on the gryphons, but I hoped their crossbows combined with the disorganization wrought by our guns and defenses would allow them to drop a few more decades.

They had mixed results; as I watched, fifteen gryphons but an equal number of our troops fell in seconds before an 80-strong century turned on our air wing, trying to clear the sky of them whilst the remaining troops streaked in towards the Loyalty and began attempting to storm our upper decks.

The former was met by the outside platoon of Corps soldiers, who proved far more deadly to the Talons in aerial combat than our own, whilst the latter encountered a barrage of unicorn arrows and spears lancing out from cannon ports and hatches. The return fire from their crossbow bolts didn’t find much through the narrow openings, though they did finally drive our archers back.

‘Twas then that a gryphon turma noticed us on the lower decks, and guessed from my formal Captain’s attire and escort that I was somepony important. At their Decurion’s order, they made for us and our unicorns opened up first with their longbows, as I reared up and drew my sword.

Only one arrow struck home, sending a low-ranked Talon spiraling to the ground with a wounded wing, whilst the rest launched a crossbow volley that hastily raised unicorn shields but barely deflected.

“Get back, Ma’am!” A voice said from beside me. Its owner was Cutlass Cleave, acting as my personal bodyguard and armed to the literal teeth with multiple blades strapped to her side, loaded crossbows on each of her forehooves, and her namesake in her mouth. Four burly earth ponies, two mares and two stallions armed with spears, swords, and crossbows accompanied her—‘twas certain she’d never been one to coddle colts; if you worked under her, you were expected to be able to fight—as well as four hoofpicked unicorns she promised me were both steady under fire and deadly accurate.

Methinks I was given cause to wonder how true that was when their second volley found no targets and one stepped forward only to slip hard and hit her head; her shield faltering and longbow falling to the ground with a clatter.

‘Twas then I realized—’twas my doing! My bad luck was infecting them, I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, and thus, my only option was: “No! All of you get back and stay back!” I ordered them, stepping forward out of their protective umbrella.

“But ma’am—!” Cutlass Cleave was shocked. “They’ll kill you!”

“It matters not!” I shouted back. “No time to explain, but do not try to defend me! If they want me, I’m here! I will be the bait; strike targets of opportunity and defend the hatches! Do not let them reach the bridge!” I instructed, not knowing my orders were already too late and the bridge crew was now fighting for their lives.

Methinks at that moment, I was making what I felt was a necessary sacrifice to keep the rest of my crew from dying in a futile attempt to save me. I believed that Commander Tailwind could take over in my place and my final act would be to spare my ship and crew the seeming bad luck curse that had haunted me my entire life. I did not yet know its nature or how it could also work for me, but an education was shortly to follow for both pony and gryphon alike.

‘Tis now evening as I finish penning this latest section, and ‘twould seem our return to Stalliongrad will be delayed. The Arnau’s commander has publicly challenged the Loyalty to a war game; a dawn duel in front of our respective regents!

‘Tis an offer we can hardly decline and even the Admiral, infirm though he is, demands a front-row seat. Methinks he cannot easily be accommodated right now, but we will try to arrange it so he can listen in on our crystal communications, at least. And ‘tis to the Admiral that I now pass the quill again, having written the last section in his presence and now recording as he narrates the next section to me as Gavian sleeps.

Even aside from our difference in ranks, ‘tis the least I can do for him after all he did for me.

—Commodore Shady

Thank you for continuing to humor me, my old friend and Captain, and for continuing to provide me company. Perchance ‘tis a measure of my progress for me to say that I am now thoroughly sick of the hospital and its food, as well as being confined to my bed.

The steady stream of visitors makes it tolerable, at least, and being able to work on this gives me something productive to do. In truth, part of me now wishes I had delayed the procedure until after the Queen’s visit, but then ‘tis certain I would have been distracted by my anticipations and fears still longer.

As I reread the still-swelling contents of this chapter, I can only marvel at all that was happening; battles on so many different fronts that ‘tis hard to keep it all straight in our heads. ‘Tis certain we know our own fights well enough, but trying to piece all of them together into a single coherent retelling has, at times, required at least a modicum of guesswork to determine what came first.

Imperial accounts of this action, I am told, will be shared later by Ambassador Kaval, but he insists that for now, ‘tis the pony side that should be heard exclusively here.

—Admiral Tailwind

Battle for the Bridge

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0557 hours

It had been the Captain’s hope that we could get in and out in five minutes; get the battalion aboard, recover our air wing, and then flee the scene. Unfortunately, the enemy gets a say in such plans, and to their credit, the Talons were reacting quickly to our unexpected appearance, their reserve cohort unflinching before our airship guns and preventing us from recovering our lifeboats.

Despite their losses to our guns and dirigible defenses, they began storming our ship from multiple directions, perchance looking for a weakness they could exploit or a critical point they could hit.

The bridge was certainly the latter, with its concentration of officers and ship controls—the ship could technically be flown and fought from engineering, but ‘twas hardly a first choice as it lacked the visibility of the bridge—and Flash Fix, who was actually third in command, could not both tend the engines and main armament crystal whilst simultaneously directing the ship. He had subordinates, of course, but in the end, ‘twas certain he trusted nopony but himself to do the job.

In any event, his sole task was now to protect engineering and keep the ship flightworthy, whilst I did the same for the bridge. “Sentries! Take up spears and flank the main hatches!” I ordered our earth pony naval guards first, who hastened to obey, covering the large doors in back of the bridge. “Crossbows! Cover the other entries! Longbows! Take positions on the flanks!” I pointed to various spots on the bridge away from hatches and windows, dispatching our pegasi and unicorns in turn before turning to the helm, where Lieutenant Sora could not leave his post.

“Mister Sora, lock the ship into a hover and draw your sword! Do not let them take the helm!”

“Aye-aye, sir!” he obeyed, slapping a control and then reaching for the blade on his back, drawing it and rearing up in an old neighponese sword stance whilst I brandished my wingblade, awaiting the first intruders onto the bridge.

We did not have long to wait. I had armor-piercing bolts notched in the one-shot crossbows strapped to my foreleg wrists, as I thought an explosive bolt was a bad idea in the close quarters of the bridge. Unfortunately, the gryphons were not so restrained as a series of them blew open the forward starboard hatch, which was one of two that led downstairs to the forward observation deck. I feared that meant that the Captain and her security team had already been overrun, but methinks I couldn’t worry about that now.

Even as I raised my crossbow, a longbow arrow whistled past my ear, fired from the opposite side of the bridge. It impacted the first gryphon in his eye, causing him to slump forward, but then a series of gems were tossed in after him.

“Down!” I shouted as the first two went off—flash gems—which made me panic for a moment, worrying there were Ravens amongst the invaders, in which case we were as good as dead. But two more Talons came through instead, only to meet an immediate wingblade slash from Aries Azimuth, who caught the crossbow arm of one and sliced it clean off through his leather vambraces, to an immediate shriek whilst she and her compatriot fell to a pair of earth pony crossbow bolts in turn—they clearly had not expected our soldiers to be armed with them!

“Get clear, Lieutenant!” I called as more gems were tossed in. But this time, our now-alert unicorns magically grabbed them and tossed them back where they came, causing a series of explosions within the passage followed by several screams. The corridor filled with smoke and I thought maybe we’d driven them off…

Until suddenly the mangled body of a slain Talon was thrown through with several armed and glowing gems secured to his body!

Recognizing the danger, we dove for cover, including me behind my command chair, as a hastily erected unicorn shield contained the explosion. But the effort overwhelmed its caster as Ensign Carrack collapsed to the deck with a cry of pain and a cracked horn, which also took us down one longbow. Taking advantage of our distraction, the remaining six Talons of the decade charged out of the passage with a raucous battle cry, and the bridge became a battlefield.

I immediately leveled my left crossbow and fired, hitting the ranking Talon—a Decurion—in the foreleg, who cried out but still urged his force forward; I knew just enough Aeric to recognize he was telling them to concentrate their fire on me as the evident commander! ‘Twas then that our spear-wielding earth ponies entered the fray, a thrown lance impacting a torso with enough force to impale itself in its owner’s heart, whilst the other was used to drive another Talon—a sky gryphon—up into the ceiling, and then thrown into his comrade, where Aries Azimuth and Sora combined to strike them down. That left three, two of which engaged me blade to blade and the third going for Sora, attempting to destroy the helm, only to find our helmspony was every bit his equal with his Neighponese blade.

For myself, Methinks I was decent enough with a wingblade; I’d even had to come up with my own independent combat style to accommodate my lack of a working wing, but I was still hard-pressed by two scimitars wielded by trained soldiers...

Until a knife with some sort of snare attached suddenly impacted the closest gryphon and somehow stuck, penetrating his armor like old paper before yanking him backwards towards its owner—a hard-eyed Ensign Kusema, who used her earth pony-like strength to her advantage.

She made a motion that caused the strange blade to pop free, and then she whipped it in a wide arc to bring it right down on his helmetless head with a sickening sound whilst I took the final gryphon myself, surprising her with my second crossbow on my right wrist, firing it right into her chest. Her beak gaped open in a soundless scream, as my bolt had penetrated her lung, and no longer able to draw breath, I ended her life by slicing open her throat whilst beside me, Sora slew his adversary, overwhelming the sky gryphon tiercel with his ancient but effective sword style and finishing him with a slash across his chest.

From beginning to end, it had taken but thirty seconds, and though I feared a second strike from the boarders, suddenly our air wing combined with the surviving Corps soldiers were swarming over the exterior, chasing the remaining Talons away and killing the ones aboard. ‘Twas that moment that the forward port hatch opened and… in strode the Captain, looking unharmed except for a few spots of blood that I could not tell if belonged to her or those she had fought, accompanied by Cutlass Cleave and most of her security detachment.

“Captain!” we all cried out, but she simply went to her chair and sat down despite the blood spatters there, magically shifting a gryphon body away.

“As you were,” she told us calmly despite the carnage, and then spoke into her communication crystals again. “Lifeboats, dock immediately! Air Wing! Continue to guard them until disembarked, and then fly combat air patrol in standard patterns! All ships! Set course for Royal Navy Base Ursa and prepare to go to flank speed!”

Methinks I must apologize for delaying your departure, Commodore, but simply ending my fight with the Centurion unfinished and retreating ‘pell-mell’, as I have heard it termed, was out of the question. Perchance ‘tis just my gryphon blood speaking, but my sense of honor and warrior spirit would not allow any outcome to the duel but victory or death, regardless of your orders.

In any event, ‘tis time to complete the battle’s account. Grandfather, I note, wishes very much to see it finished, having not been able to bear witness to it. And thus, at his bedside, I pen my final section of the story.

—Gavian

RWBY - White Trailer: Mirror, Mirror Redux

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0558 hours

“So let us finish this! The sooner I slay you, Centurion, the sooner I may leave with my mother and all my friends!”

Nael was now seething. “Impudent young cub! Neither you nor your so-called ‘mother’ will leave this cavern alive!”

“We will see.” I echoed the words and intonations of my Mentor; ones he had spoken to a Raven who had challenged him in the raid they’d launched to kill me so many months earlier. Methinks at that moment, I was aware of nothing except Nael; my entire life’s work reduced to but a single purpose:

Slaying him and saving my family.

True, I knew I was between two opposing battle lines that might engage each other—and me—at any moment, and I knew there was an airship outside waiting to whisk us to safety whose departure could not be long delayed. But I cared not. All I did care about was my sworn oath to repay my blood debt; to defend Equestria… and prove to this veteran Fortis Knight that I was every bit the warrior he was.

The warrior he claimed I could never be.

A proof that could only be offered with my victory, in a duel which still very much hung in the balance. “I will see that you die!” he retorted, and with that, he charged me and our battle resumed again.

To the likely horror of my mother, I didn’t immediately move this time as the Centurion bore down on me, bringing his massive battle axe to bear in an overhead strike yet again.

“Gavian! Move!”I heard Swift Strike shout in a rare note of panic, but I didn’t, deciding I’d take this blow head on just to prove that I could. I saw the smile on Nael’s face as he recognized my intention, believing his strength would overwhelm me…

But whilst an earth gryphon’s strength is in their legs and torso, a sky gryphon’s is in their wings. Though mine had been severely stunted until recently due to malnutrition, they had filled out nicely in the course of the past year, and the daily exercise and sparring sessions I’d been through had made them as strong as any Wind Knight. So, I simply added their force to my upward block; the impact of metal on metal ringing out loudly but, to the astonishment of Nael and his compatriots alike, my sword parried his axe! I even caused him to lose his iron grip on it briefly!

‘Tis certain that I, too, was knocked back, but the audible gasps I heard from the gryphon side were music to my ears as they finally understood that I was, in fact, every bit their equal or even better! So were the cheers and sounds of astonishment from my own side; the former coming from the Corps troops who knew me well and the latter from the Navy troops who were getting a rapid education.

Nael quickly regained his grip and tried another single-paw sideways swing, but to his annoyance, I simply hopped over it again, using the flat of his axe head as a springboard to launch myself skyward and dodge the follow-up fist he’d floored me with before. I then rolled forward in a spinning slash aimed at his head—an attack I’d invented and was now trying in combat for the first time. He flinched in the face of my rapidly spinning blade and turned away, bringing up the staff of his axe to guard his head.

‘Twas but a feint, however, as I instead attacked his wrist and my spinning sword got through, slicing right through his armor and embedding itself an inch in his flesh, causing him to lose his grip with a sharp cry of pain. I then knocked his axe away, disarming him for a second time as I pushed back off his own chestplate to dodge his retaliatory swipe. Shaking off the blow—methinks he was nothing if not incredibly persistent!—he drew a throwing axe from inside his armor with his good set of talons and sent it whirling my way.

I deflected it with my sword, but ‘twas soon clear ‘twas just a ruse as he used my distraction to rush me on all fours and then take a flying leap, swiping hard with his claws in a slash that would have eviscerated me if I hadn’t leapt back myself with a single beat of my wings to give me added momentum—I’d gotten very good at using my wings to move myself along the ground as well as the air, thanks to innumerable drills and sparring sessions with my mentor. Pushing off with my hind legs and wings, I struck his right arm and scored again, sending a spray of blood off his penetrated upper arm and rendering it useless.

For the first time, he staggered back and was unable to bite off his cry of pain, able to make only a half-hearted swipe at me as I passed.

“The duel is mine! Now die!”I shouted triumphantly in Aeric as I swooped up and then over, reversing my grip of my sword so it was now held in my right set of talons with my thumb on the hilt and the blade pointed outward. I then dove on him with all my acquired speed, adding it to my strike against his throat. Visibly exhausted and his reaction times slowed, he tried to raise his good arm but my blade found its mark and penetrated his weakened neck armor. There was a sharp gout of blood as Nael staggered back in agony and disbelief, clutching at his ruined throat to no avail. For a moment, he tried to clamber after me, but he faltered and finally fell over hard, his lifeblood spilling out on the ground around him.

With that, I sheathed my sword and turned to the stunned Knights. “The duel is mine! Unless any now present object?” I smirked at them all. “And by its terms, all may leave unmolested.”

“No!” The Raven commander shouted. “You broke the terms of the first duel by interfering! Therefore, the duel agreement is invalid! Knights! As the Centurion has fallen, I am now your commander! By my orders, attack!” he demanded, but only his fellow Ravens began to obey as Mother and Swift Strike stepped forward to flank me and the Naval troops leveled their crossbows; the warriors of shadow quickly halting their advance as they realized the Knights were not following them.

“Hold!” the Naval commander, Phantom Flight shouted along with mother to prevent a volley from being launched. “Regardless of his actions in the first duel, my son offered the terms to your Centurion and they were accepted! We kept our side of the bargain by staying when we could have withdrawn!” the latter spoke on my behalf.

“She is right, First Spear,” an eagless Knight that bore the rank of Optio stated in Equish in mingled resignation and disgust. “Even in death, the Centurion’s orders and his acceptance of the duel terms stand. As the duel is done and he only told us to prevent you from interfering in it, we will not stop your teams if you wish to attack. But nor will we help you.”

“Very well! So what is it to be, First Spear?” Mother challenged the Raven with a smirk. “If you and your fellow assassins wish a suicidal fight against my one hundred and twenty soldiers, feel free to attack! But to get to Gavian, you will go through me,” she warned, brandishing her wingblades as the rest of the battalion likewise lowered their heads, snorting and pawing at the ground in warning. “You may slay some of us. Perchance even myself. But ‘tis certain you will not survive. And you will not prevent our escape!”

“Methinks your overconfidence is your weakness, commander!” the Raven said through a clenched beak. “This isn’t over yet!”

“And methinks your faith in your so-called friends is yours!” Fell Flight retorted. “We’re done here, ma’am! We can kill them another day!”

‘Twas at that moment the Naval Captain’s voice was heard again over the communication crystals, ordering an immediate retreat to the airship. “Methinks you are correct, Master Sergeant! Battalion! By the Captain’s order, withdraw to the airship! Naval Troops! Cover our rear! Keep crossbows trained as you withdraw, but do not attack unless they do!” Mother ordered, though she did not immediately move. Before she could give an additional order, Sky Sentry flew out to pick up an unconscious and gravely wounded Stormrunner, blood still dripping off his head.

“Everypony gets out!” he said through tears as he hoisted his fellow Guardspony on his back, repeating his own words like a mantra. “Everypony gets out!” he said to himself again as he flew out the opening of the emptying vault and up to the waiting airship.

We waited another thirty seconds before withdrawing the Naval Troops as well, Mother and Swift strike along with Phantom Flight commanding our rear guard as the cavern was evacuated once and for all.

Well fought, my honorary nephew.

I suppose I might be more annoyed if the outcome had not turned out so well for us all. I wish very much I had gotten to witness your battle, but ‘twas certain enough that I had my own to worry about at that point. I have saved that tale for last, not because I wish the spotlight, but because I consider it less important than the previous actions. For regardless of what happened to me, ‘twould all have been for naught if the other fights had not been won.

I complete this following section just before leaving for the Loyalty, which awaits its aerial duel with the Arnau over the Naval drill fields of Polaris Base. The Captain of the Polaris, Prince Blueblood himself, is said to be insulted that his flagship was not selected, but ‘tis certain the Loyalty is the most famous ship of the Royal Navy, and for it, ‘twould be just as much an insult now as it was then to not meet the gryphons with our best.

—Commodore Shady

Escape from Epsilon

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0554 hours

As I ordered my security team back and stepped forward out of their protective umbrella, ‘twas certain I thought my life was to be measured in seconds.

I heard reports of boarding actions across all three ships, and alternately frantic, panicked, and triumphant calls of officers leading the defense, but there was nothing more I could do except defend myself. I thus reared up and drew my sword, taking what is, for a unicorn, an unusual posture in reflection of my equally unusual swordfighting style. ‘Twas a blade art developed a century earlier by a unicorn who had lost the ability to levitate, and though I was not quite in that camp, my strangely stunted aura could not wield or swing a sword with any real speed or power.

My custom saber was designed to be worn on the right forehoof and fought with in an upright posture, whilst the opposite forehoof was used for balance, held behind and above the head, and I did not have long to put that style to the test as the first Talons streaked in, crossbows leveled.

I faced them calmly, expecting a crossbow bolt to impact my head or chest at any time, and indeed, a few bolts were loosed. But none hit, one whistling past my ear and the other, striking the deck between my hind legs!

Amazed at my own good fortune—so different than what I’d known my entire life!—and ignoring Cutlass Cleave’s renewed plea to step back, I marched forward to expose myself further as the Talons began to swoop down, blades leveled. But the lead one misjudged how much space he had between the deck and ceiling to hit his forehead hard on an overhead beam, the speed of his own passing and eagerness to slay me knocking him out to say nothing of head over heels, sending him hard to the deck. He slid along the wooden floor until he ended up right in front of my dumbfounded security detail, who slew him with ease after.

Two more Talons then appeared, crossbows armed, targeting me. But the lead one’s weapon all but exploded in her grip as the drawstring snapped upon release, badly bloodying her talons and causing her to drop the weapon with a cry of pain, whilst the second landed on a splintered board the first dead Talon had left when he fell hard there and caused it to give way, sinking into the surface. Stunned and off balance, she was swiftly slain by my sabre via a stab through the neck.

At that point, I might have had an inkling as to what was happening, but I could give it little real mind as a fresh decade of Talons appeared. Approaching more carefully now, several lit onto the deck, trying to bracket me with their crossbows only to be cut down by unicorn longbows fired from the hatches behind me that they had been unaware were there. And when the rest of the decade backed off and tried firing explosive bolts from range, forcing me to withdraw, the explosion of the first against the side of the ship sent debris into the path of the others, detonating them prematurely, though they still made my ears ring and sent some fragments into me; a couple spots of blood appearing on my white dress uniform.

Perchance ‘twas then that I realized—’twasn’t just ridiculous luck. ‘Twas me! ‘Twas the seeming jinx that haunted me all my life turned into a weapon not against me, but against my foes! I had never even imagined such a thing could be a boon to me, but the evidence ‘twas there before me as I not only survived, but my adversaries were falling at my feet, my sword and the projectiles launched from behind me finding their marks with uncanny precision as Talons simply blundered or slipped into my path or each other, leaving them easy prey.

Cutlass Cleave performed brilliantly, taking on two Talons at once and slaying each in turn, whilst the rest of the security detail suffered minor wounds but no deaths, their sheltered position combined with my unnatural luck enabling them to account for several more gryphons.

Newly confident and feeling strangely untouchable, I engaged the remaining Talons directly as they landed. I whirled and sidestepped, slashed and thrusted, confounding and surprising the Talons if their disbelieving looks were anything to go off of.

Their surprise was short lived upon seeing the first of their group fall from a slash to the throat, and two on either side of me attacked at the same time, hoping to overwhelm me and find an opening. Normally, such a tactic among those who train together would be sound and efficient, but they clearly didn’t know about my odd abilities. The first Talon’s blade was blocked by the flat of my own, and before she could attempt a second strike, her partner tripped on an uneven plank, his momentum and blade point going at just the right angle that a hop to the side by me ended with him impaling the eagless in the chest.

He stared at his now dead partner for a moment in horror, realizing what had happened. He turned towards me, only for me to stab him in the neck before he could free his own weapon from her chest. Again, the Talons could only gape at the sheer unlikelihood of what they had witnessed.

One of the Talons eventually shook herself from her stupor and barked out a command in Aeric, and the rest moved to attack me once more. I continued to dance and block their strikes, and after another instance of a gryphon somehow cutting off one of his comrades claws, as well as a few trips and falls, within a minute, a score of gryphon regulars were down and the rest retreated as the ship repulsed the attack; I heard an infuriated call from Flash Fix that engineering was safe but “they smashed my still!”, swearing bloody vengeance on the gryphons for it.

The lower observation deck clear except for corpses, and the bridge now apparently secure after a brief but sharp battle, I ordered my team to reinforce them, deciding I would command the rest of the battle from the bridge, heading up the port side passage.

“Captain!” came the cry as I entered to find another half-dozen dead gryphons there along with two wounded crew; my second and the bridge officers had clearly given a very good accounting of themselves.

“As you were,” I said as I magically tossed a slain Talon off my command chair. “All Corps forces, retreat to the Loyalty! Lifeboats, dock immediately! Air Wing! Continue to guard them and then fly combat air patrol in standard patterns! All ships! Set course for Royal Navy Base Ursa and prepare to go to flank speed!”

I heard some acknowledgements come back, and then the main hatches behind me opened to reveal…

“Father!”A pegasus mare in Guardspony armor that I could only assume was Firefly shouted, all but launching herself at Commander Tailwind and hugging him hard. “You came for us?” She asked through tears.

“Not by myself, my daughter,” Tailwind sniffled back. “You may thank Captain Shady for this rescue.”

“‘Tis good to finally meet you, but reunions can wait, commander,” I told her. “We’re not out of this yet!”

“Ma’am! Report from the loading deck: all lifeboats are docked, and our squadrons are pulling back!” Ensign Kusema reported, her odd weapon still impaled in the head of a gryphon corpse by her station, but she gave it no mind. “The cavern is evacuated and all Corps forces are now aboard!”

“Then let’s waste no more time. Tell the Duty and Vigil to form up!” I instructed to her, then turned to Sora, whose own bloodied blade had been replaced on his back and who was ignoring a wound to his hind leg. “‘Tis time to leave! Bring us around on a heading to Royal Naval Base Ursa, and order the group to flank speed! Get us out of here, Lieutenant!” I shouted, scarcely able to believe we’d pulled it off.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” he replied, and then spun the ship’s wheel around whilst pulling on it at the same time. We heard the thrum of the propellers increase in volume as we made our way into the air, clawing for altitude, turning about to leave the border behind.

“Ma’am!” Kusema called, suddenly shocked. “The Vigil has formed up as ordered, but the Duty is holding position!”

“What?!” I barely restrained a curse, and tapped one of the gems on my chair. “Shady to Duty! Sterling Silver, what in Luna’s name are you doing?!”

“Apologies, ma’am,” came the resigned reply. It sounded somewhat distorted, as though the communication gems had been cracked. “Magus Knights hit our engines with a lucky shot. We’re dead in the air and being overwhelmed by boarders. Even if we could still repulse them, we can’t attain flank speed. Given that, I made the call to stay here and buy you more time.”

“Lieutenant Commander—” I began, but was cut off.

“Captain, with due respect, you can’t afford to slow down for our sakes. If you do, you won’t escape gryphon pursuit,” Sterling Silver pointed out. “We came here to rescue the Epsilon garrison, and that’s what you need to do. Compared to them, an old escort full of half-trained greenhorns isn’t worth much. The Duty is lost, and in accordance with Naval General Order Number Five, I’ve already given the orders, ma’am.”

Several emotions whipped through me at that; dread, horror, and disbelief were chief among these. “Sterling…”

“I know I’m not much of a mare, ma’am,” she said with a resigned air. “Methinks I’ve had a silver spoon in my mouth since the day I was born. Like so many other nobles, I joined the Navy purely to claim military experience. I never expected to make rank, let alone be part of all that’s happened here.” Her voice suddenly firmed. “But I’m here, and I’ll be damned before I let these overgrown chickenhawks have their way with us! Get going, ma’am! And don’t let us die in vain!”

I let out a long breath and nodded to Sora before I spoke again. “Celestia light your path to the Summerlands… Commander Sterling Silver.” I put enough emphasis on the word to make sure she understood that my omission of the ‘Lieutenant’ that should have been the first part of her rank was no accident.

There was a slight pause from the other end. “And may She watch over you, Captain,” Sterling replied, a hitch in her voice at the last-minute promotion. “‘Twas an honor to serve with you.”

There was a sudden cacophony from her end, as though something had just exploded. There was some rustling and shouting, followed by a gurgling shriek, and then a male voice, tinged with a gryphon accent, could be heard. “How valiant of you and yours, Captain,” the unseen tiercel drawled. “Defending your posts down to the last pony. A pity ‘tis all for naught!”

There was a pained snort. “Ah, but I must rebuke you, Optio,” Sterling replied through a cough, seemingly not caring that the vocal channel was still open. As she spoke, I tapped more gems, until there was a projected display of the rear of the Loyalty, and the Duty behind it, shrinking as we pulled away. Gryphons were swarming the doomed and visibly listing escort, even as some that had been pursuing us turned back, unable to keep up with our engines. The gryphons were determined to claim at least one prize this day, even as Sterling’s voice continued. “There are no ponies or gryphons here! Only a series of walking corpses!”

A noise of confusion was quickly overwhelmed by a klaxon, loud even through the distorted communications. “Wha—? What have you—?!” The Optio seemed lost for words as he realized her intent.

Sterling, however, wasn’t. “When you get to Tartarus, tell them Sterling Silver sent you,” she said coolly. “And then apologize on my behalf for the inconvenience!” There was an audible click, and then the channel cut off as, on the display, the Duty was consumed in an explosion of magical energy as the ship’s crystal power core detonated. The ship itself was vaporized from the massive release of magic as were all the gryphons unlucky enough to be near it at the time. We could feel the pressure wave from the explosion rumble through the floor beneath our hooves, shaking the ship.

There were several moments of silence, as all the officers on the bridge bowed their heads out of respect for the lost ship and crew. Then a voice I’d heard only recently spoke up. “Why?” Firefly asked, looking to my eyes more than a little shell-shocked. “Why did she do that?” she continued, the heavily bandaged one-eyed mare next to her seeming no less lost.

“Standard Naval protocol,” I said heavily. “By Naval General Order Number Five, if a ship is in danger of imminent capture by enemy forces, the commanding officer is to destroy it, even if nopony has managed to evacuate yet. That’s been the dominant rule since Luna’s time.”

“But—” Firefly couldn’t seem to accept the rationale, so I continued.

“The Royal Navy has long been the testing ground for new military technology, Master Sergeant. Anything that the rest of the military uses, it likely went through us first. As such, our airships have advances that the rest of the military doesn’t.

“If the Duty had been captured by the enemy, the gryphons could have analyzed and formed countermeasures to our new communications gear and weapons,” I explained. “We couldn’t allow that. Sterling Silver knew the risks when she took command, remote as they seemed at the time. We all did.” I placed a hoof on the other mare’s neck. “'Tis a heavy loss. But we cannot flinch from it. We cannot let every casualty get to us, Commander. If we do, we’d break down completely, and never recover. Now let us see to it that we do not join them, and that their sacrifice was not in vain!”

“There aren’t any great men. There are just great challenges that ordinary men like you and me are forced by circumstances to meet.”

—Fleet Admiral William “Bull” Halsey

Author's Note

I wish it known that this chapter was--without any shadow of a doubt--the most difficult, time-consuming, and complex battle sequence I’ve ever attempted, even without the presence of graphics (which would be very repetitive here and not show much). For all the different characters and elements I had to juggle and still come up with a coherent whole, its completion was a triumph, and I believe I pulled it off!

New work by AJ_Aficionado:

One of the reasons I wanted to launch when I did was to help support the release of a AJ_Aficionado’s new story. He has a new FoE fic out, M-rated, but only really at the end; it centers on the lives of the Alicorn drones post-railcar, as it were. Their struggles to find a new way, place and purpose. It’s very imaginative and very well-written; it even has the stamp of approval from some notable FoE authors and artists, including Meep and Grypher.

[Adult story embed hidden]

Look at it this way: I don’t generally go for FoE, and I enjoyed it. It’s got a clop scene, but it’s far more than that; much of it is given over to some very clever and imaginative worldbuilding and character development in the FoE universe. I edited it and can heartily recommend it.

Give it a read. It’s a difficult genre to write in, but he really made it work.

Thanks go to him and all my other prereaders, including Leo Archon, who also contributed the bulk of the closing section, Denim_Blue, who successfully expanded on the Shady battle scene to showcase her abilities a lot better, and Silentwoodfire, who contributed his usual corrections and just received a free copy of my anthro novel as a thank-you. I will be going off of Firefly for a bit to concentrate on other things now, as you’ll understand if I really do need a break from it after how intense/how much work these last few chapters have been. Thank you for reading and following! Don’t worry, the story will continue in due course, and guest authors are being lined up.

Rally and Recover: 1 - Answers

Dear readers:

As we conclude one book and begin the next in this magnum opus, the particularly observant and astute might have noted that there was one name missing from the roster of those here for Father’s surgery, and her absence from these accounts was no mere oversight.

My beloved sister Wind Whistler was not present for her father’s procedure because she was on a very special assignment whose objective only came to fruition this day, during the duel between the Loyalty and Arnau. Her strategic mind was needed to thwart an assassination and coup attempt by Imperial remnants against the Queen, and to that end, she worked with both the EIS and Ravens to gather intelligence and lay a trap for the ringleaders, of which a willing Queen Jeyenne herself was the bait.

So before we resume the story of the war, let me detail what I can of these events.

—Firefly

The carefully constructed plot was to culminate during the duel, when the Loyalty would be seized by a cadre of carefully trained and selected pony-disguised infiltrators, who would then turn her guns on the watching Queen and her party, killing the bulk of her line and senior officials.

If possible, they also wished to slay me and Ambassador Kaval—myself for simple vengeance but the Ambassador to ensure that he could not rally the Kingdom afterwards. This would allow a coup to go forward; one that would install a new Emperor in the recently rebuilt Imperial capital of Mosclaw and declare the Gryphon Empire reborn.

The Arnau would then engage the Loyalty and die heroically trying to avenge the treachery that had taken their ruler, thus becoming a rallying cry for the new regime. Even if Celestia personally intervened and apologized afterwards, that the Queen had died under her care and at the hooves of the ponies would be taken as a grievous betrayal, and a renewed call for war might have resulted.

‘Twas an ambitious plan involving several dozen plotters including some major figures in the Kingdom’s government and military, as well as several hundred carefully recruited underlings, including dozens of unwitting gryphons and ponies turned against their hearts and duty by the use of more advanced mind control gems the now-disbanded Office of Owls had been working on at the end of the war.

‘Twas a cunning plan, against which an equally cunning counterintelligence operation was needed. And as she alone among the two sides had successfully commanded both pony and gryphon forces during the joint campaign against Dragon Lord Diabla, there was none more qualified for such a task than my sister.

To that end, Tailwind’s surgery was part real, part ruse, meant to coincide with the Queen’s visit and make it look like our attention was elsewhere. Tailwind himself approved of the plan, though he requested his memory be wiped of all knowledge of the plot afterwards so he could not give it away in case the plotters captured him while he lay helpless in bed.

There was no need, thankfully, as when the plot was triggered, so was my sister’s carefully constructed trap. Their cannons failed to fire and their mind-controlled agents were set free by a special spell that disabled the crystals and their effects, leaving them aware of their instructions and who had sent them but no longer compelled to obey them. This allowed us to identify and arrest the mages who had kept them on their leashes, and from there, unravel the rest of their network.

Undercover PSD agents and pony-disguised Ravens that had been lying in wait then swarmed the bridge and engineering, taking down all targets with few casualties on either side—which methinks ‘twas always a hallmark of my sister’s work whilst on the ground, the Lances and Ravens likewise stormed a series of safehouses throughout Equestria and the Kingdom and captured the ringleaders, who were coordinating their efforts from afar. Those captured locally were then brought before the Queen, where one final fanatic attempted to detonate a crystal bomb on his body, only to find it had been rendered inert.

Thwarted, he then drew a blade and charged her through the air, only to meet an immovable wall in the form of Ambassador Kaval. My old foe defeated him with contemptuous ease, batting his blows aside with no effort and then taking him down with a single strike. He could have easily slain him, but he, like me, has had enough of killing and will no longer do so unless absolutely necessary. Instead, the final assassin was thrown before the Queen along with his compatriots, who, instead of ordering him slain on the spot, directed that he and his fellow plotters stand trial in the Kingdom.

‘Twas only then, with her task complete and the Queen safe, that my sister finally was able to visit Father, and the last I saw of her before closing the door to give them privacy was to witness her holding his hoof and crying.

In truth, methinks my explanation of these events does not do it justice, for the careful planning and coordination springing my sister’s trap required. ‘Twas a superb operation to unravel the plot, but I regret that I simply cannot detail it beyond its bare outlines, which is all that is now public. In its place, ‘tis time to renew the retelling of the war, picking up with the aftermath of our escape from Outpost Epsilon.

Signed,

Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Northern New Yoke Province
350 miles south-southwest of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1620 hours

Our escape from Epsilon did not mean we were out of danger.

Though we quickly outpaced the initial pursuit, my heart dropped when I was informed that due to the circuitous route they had taken getting here, we could not sustain the pace for more than an hour, at which point the main engine crystal would run out of energy. It could be slowly recharged without additional fuel using unicorn magic, but their numbers were few and their power was spent; what little they could spare was nowhere near enough to speed us to safety.

With the air wing and my remaining effectives under the command of Fell Flight—I had barely a single platoon of forty still fightworthy with the rest wounded or too exhausted to continue—we flew relays to keep the ship moving via wind into the sails, trying to stay ahead of gryphon pursuit even though the best we could manage was an agonizing fourth of our previous escape speed.

The Airship’s chief engineer, a rather portly but burly Shetland pony named Flash Fix with the accent to match, had been able to coax a little more velocity by rerouting the final dregs of their main armament crystal to the engines, gaining us another thirty miles but disabling the airship’s best guns. Still more precious energy was squeezed from the smaller crystals that powered the lightboats, granting us twenty miles more but at the cost of rendering them useless for escapes.

‘Twas touch and go as gryphon centuries appeared repeatedly and had to be held off, but they were not able to bring the Loyalty or the Vigil down as they lacked the numbers and mages to storm us, perchance because of the losses they suffered at Epsilon.

Still, ‘twas tense and dangerous for a while as they attempted alternately to damage the sails or suspension cables, and ‘twas not until around 1300 hours when we had gained about two hundred miles from the border that friendly Corps forces appeared to chase off the pursuit and escort us the rest of the way. Fortunately, that escort included naval transports filled with Army unicorns dispatched from the city of Maresk and its attached Army base, Fort Ironheart, to power the engines up at least partially and get us back to Royal Navy base Ursa on the Lunar Sea.

Methinks I was mildly amazed that they knew to expect us and roughly where to look for us, but ‘twould seem that Admiral Coral Torch had arranged it all despite her ire at Captain Shady, having the foresight to guess such assistance would be needed.

Finally safe and under friendly air cover, I stared out the window of the airship’s bridge, my mind awhirl. Before now, I’d been focused on taking down as many gryphons as possible before dying, then about getting everypony on board the Loyalty. Now that the danger had passed, though, ‘twas time to see to my remaining soldiers. And exhausted though I was, I would not rest until I had found each and every one of them.

No longer needing to remain on alert, we were finally able to, if not relax, at least lick our wounds. As I walked among the Epsilon survivors—and I of course made sure to thank the Naval healers profusely for their efforts to save my soldiers—I found myself lingering on two individuals. First was Stormrunner, who I encountered in a borrowed cot, stripped of his armor with a mended spear wound and a heavily bandaged head through which blood was still leaking, staining the white fabric red.

To my surprise, he was awake and alert, his good left eye turning on me and propping himself up to offer a shaky salute along with Blindside, who I found chatting with him.

“At ease,” I told the pair as I beheld him. “How fare you, Master Sergeant? Will that... scratch... keep you from further action?” I admit I didn’t quite know what else to say.

“Not a chance. ’Tis but an eye, ma’am,” he answered easily, though I noted he turned his head instead of moving his good eye to look at me. “In their great wisdom, the Sun and Moon Goddesses saw fit to grant me a spare. And the good Sergeant here has been discussing with me how she overcame her lack of a working one. ‘Tis my hope I can yet match her feat and return to active duty quickly.”

“‘Twas not easy or instant for me. But perchance with my guidance, it could be accomplished quicker. I’d be more than willing to train you, Master Sergeant,” Blindside offered, but then went downcast, looking at her own wounds and barely mobile wing. “Particularly since ‘twould seem I am out of action myself for some time.”

“You fought well, Sergeant,” I told her, and meant it. She’d sustained a broken rib in the final battle, and ‘twould be at least a few days before she could fly again thanks to the wing damage she’d taken in the superstorm fight. But even grounded and wounded, she had not flinched from further action, and had notched the only other hit on the Ravens we scored during the initial breach of the vault doors.

In fact, I’d only learned from Gavian that she had defended me along with him when I fell to the Magus bolt, fearlessly engaging a Raven who tried to slay me. “And I heard from my son what you did for me. Thank you.” I bowed my head to her.

Her cheeks warmed. “‘Tis but some small payback for saving my life during the Raider attack last December, and again last night, ma’am. But ‘tis not why I did it.” She did not elaborate, but nor did she need to.

I felt my own cheeks warm in turn. “You need not say more, Sergeant. But for now, I would like to speak with Stormrunner alone, if I may. In the meantime, you should rest. We are out of danger now, so please see to your own needs. Find a cot or cloud in the Air Wing quarters and sleep—they have made several dozen ‘racks’, as they call them, available to us.

“Or if you are hungry, it may interest you to know that the airship’s mess hall—or excuse me, ‘galley’ in Naval parlance—has some surprisingly good Cloud Creole, and ‘twould seem the ship’s chief engineer has brewed some excellent liquor.” I couldn’t help but grin at the remembered taste, though I had abstained beyond a single sip for now. “He has promised all of us a full keg of it upon our return.”

“But ma’am—” Blindside started to protest only for the loud rumble of her stomach to make itself heard, to the laughter of me and Stormrunner. She then relented, with the promise she would return later.

“Methinks she’s quite devoted to you, Commander,” Stormrunner noted idly when she was out of sight; I wasn’t sure if I imagined a coy note in his voice. “And I admit I was touched by her attention as well. I do not actually know how quickly or even if I can gain her enhanced senses and ability to navigate her surroundings without depth perception, but I refuse to let such a minor injury keep me from my duty to defend Equestria.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his statement. He was clearly in pain, but bearing it well. “’Twas an incredibly brave thing you did, Master Sergeant,” I admitted, though I couldn’t resist a dig. “Utterly stupid, mind you, but still incredibly brave.”

“I regret nothing, ma’am,” he told me, even offering up a grin before his expression dropped. “Save that I was unable to slay that insulting Centurion and forced your son to save me.”

I admit I felt a moment of ire at him over Gavian, but it quickly receded. “Methinks I should be angry at you for endangering him and our escape, except for how well it worked out and my son’s incredible display.” And ‘twas the truth; I’d been amazed by what I saw of his battle with Nael.

Word of Gavian’s victory and public oath of loyalty to Equestria had spread quickly amongst the Loyalty crew, courtesy of the returned Naval Air Wing, half of whom had witnessed the duel. Though initially wary of him, the tale of his battle feat as well as receiving a huge hug from Father in front of the crew had quickly silenced any potential neighsaying about him, though I still insisted he have protection at all times.

“And what of Gavian?” Stormrunner asked. “I passed out before I could see his battle. Is he all right? Is he safe?”

“He is now,” I confirmed. “‘Tis a shame you didst not see it, for he fought magnificently, Master Sergeant. He proved himself a warrior, and methinks I have never seen him so proud. He’s now sleeping in his own quarters with sentries present and his own private bodyguard. Given what they’ve heard of his duel, methinks the crew of the Loyalty will not harm him, but nor am I willing to take the chance.”

“A bodyguard? Who?” Stormrunner wanted to know, well aware that all of Gavian’s usual guardians—Swift Strike and the Celestial Guardsponies—were down.

“Well… funny story,” I said with a hoof behind my head, and began to explain that with Swift Strike exhausted and being treated for his own injuries—aside from the crystal fragments he’d taken, he’d also been dealt damage by the Ravens, who had scored at least two hits on him to none in return to the Sky Sergeant’s great embarrassment—the job of protecting Gavian now fell to an EIS operative I hadn’t even known was present amongst my soldiers.

‘Twas only when I was asking for volunteers to stay with Gavian and guard him as he slept that Private Mammatus presented herself and announced to me apologetically that she was in fact an undercover member of the PSD, assigned to watch Gavian both as an extra layer of protection and in case he proved to be some form of sleeper agent.

‘Twas certainly a surprise, as she’d been among the lower-rated combatants I’d had, but she had then fought far above her weight during the battles, slaying many whilst surviving each and every encounter we had.

Overhearing that, a wounded but still-lethal Swift Strike was on her instantly, leaping up from his treatment to put a blade at her throat. As if expecting it, she did not so much as flinch as he then challenged her with a short verbal phrase whispered in her left ear: “Eclipse.”

To which she paused for but a moment before replying: “Occlusion.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his blade and told me she could be trusted. “‘Twas a recognition code between the Lances and supporting EIS agents,” he explained at my questioning look. “Don’t bother trying to remember it, as the proper countersign depends on several factors. And before you ask, no, I was not aware of her,” he said as he returned to his treatment. “Methinks her presence is hardly surprising, though. Daggermind does like to ensure both assets and potential threats are covered from multiple angles,” he mused, referring to the diminutive head of the Equestrian Intelligence Service, a stallion who had the appearance of a foal but the mind of a master spy.

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” Stormrunner agreed as I finished the tale. He nodded slowly with a mild wince of pain, unable to quite suppress a grimace at the movement of his injured head. “He is safe, then. Remind me to tell you one day of the time I tried to impress a PSD pegasus mare as a brand-new Guardspony. When she took exception to my efforts, I ended up thrown through a table, finding myself flat on my back with a blade at my throat.” He reached up to rub his good eye with an undamaged hoof. “I was humbled then. And I find myself humbled now.”

His mood abruptly dropped as my expression softened in turn. “Be assured, Master Sergeant, that you are far from the only one to be painfully humbled in their life,” I told him, recalling how I’d been badly beaten by Windshear the first time I challenged him in basic. ‘Twas then I suddenly remembered the odd vision I’d had of him when I lay paralyzed on the dusty cavern floor.

I had a sickening feeling I knew what that vision meant, but stuffed that fear as deeply down as I could. I’d sustained enough painful losses that day; methinks I did not wish my beloved mentor’s name to be added to that lengthening list of dead. “I know not if Blindside can help you, but I do want you back. As long as you’re willing to obey orders and not resort to honor duels in the middle of an evacuation, that is. It worked this time, but methinks ‘twill not again,” I said with equal parts amusement and admonishment.

“I do not regret the duel; merely my conduct of it,” he told me, fatigue starting to show on his face again. “I allowed my emotions to get the best of me and played right into his hooves—or talons. And for it, I pay a heavy price,” he admitted. “I give you my word that I will be back, Commander, once I am battleworthy again.”

“I will hold you to that,” I told him, placing my hoof briefly over his. “In the meantime, rest.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he told me, and I stayed with him until he had fallen asleep.

* * * * *

With Stormrunner attended, ‘twas time to find the other individual of interest to me, who I had not seen in some time and was starting to worry about again—Sky Sentry.

Asking around, I finally found him on the airship’s topmost observation deck. Its heavy wooden planks had been scorched by lightning from the ballonet defenses and were not fully cleaned up, with a fried feather or bloodstains from slain gryphons here and there. “Sergeant?” I called to him as I ascended the stairs and spotted him, but he did not turn to me or immediately reply, still staring back in the direction we had come. “Have you eaten? Have you slept?” I tried again as I got closer. “Tis not healthy to brood.”

Instead of answering me, he posed a single, forlorn question. “Ma’am…? How am I here?” he asked me earnestly. “How are any of us here?”

I hesitated before answering, suddenly wondering if he was suffering some form of battle shock that caused him to lose his memory. “Because the Loyalty saved us,” I reminded him, only to watch him sharply shake his head.

“You don’t understand,” he told me. “I mean, I shouldn’t be here. I should have died with the rest of my battalion. With the mares I tried and failed to lead away,” he explained, starting to tear up again. “I remember each and every one of them. Their faces; their voices.” He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes taking on a haunted look. “The soldiers I led to their deaths.”

‘Twa only then I understood what he was saying. “Sergeant, stop,” I ordered him firmly, stepping in front of him and forcing him to look at me. “We’ve been over this already. There was nothing you could do and no way you could win. You are suffering from survivor’s guilt—believe me, I know what that feels like,” I told him, recalling my own after my first combat engagement had cost me sixteen soldiers so many months earlier.

“Mourn them and remember them; honor and respect them. But seek not to join them. Dead, you cannot save or avenge them. But alive, you can fight in their name and help all Equestria in the process,” I told him, even as I had my own doubts, looking back on my battalion’s heavy losses.

By actual count, only one hundred three souls were left out of the battalion that had once numbered two hundred twenty, and of those, scores were injured, many critically. After rest and the most rudimentary of medical treatment, I had but eighty potential effectives left with the remainder either being non-pegasi or too badly wounded for further action. That was how many ponies had escaped Epsilon with their lives. More than half of my command had gone ahead to the Summerlands, and unfortunately, ‘twas certain we would never get the chance to retrieve the primary feathers of most of them.

I was presenting a brave front, but in truth, ‘twas merely an illusion. For ‘twas certain I bore my own scars by then; a part of me wanted to simply break down crying as Sky Sentry had whilst another wanted to lash out and slaughter as many gryphons as I could, seeking recompense for their unjust invasion and the lives they had taken. And yet, despite these and other emotions whirling through my head, the primary thing I felt was… loss.

‘Twas far from the first time ponies had died under my command, but these were but the first shots of the war, and I’d already lost half of those who’d entrusted their lives to me with the survival of the remainder only gained by happenstance and an unlikely rescue I could never repay. But here we were, and now the question before me was: What could I do to prevent it from happening again…?

“Mayhap it is survivor’s guilt,” Sky Sentry conceded after a long pause. “But I still bear it, Master Sergeant. It holds such sway over me that I fear I cannot fight.”

“You fought well enough back there,” I reminded him.

“Only because I thought by doing so, I would hasten my end and be able to fly forth to the Summerlands to join my lost mares and comrades,” he choked out. “My spirit is broken, ma’am. I may be here in body, but in truth, I am but a ghost now. For the pony I was died back there… with all of them.”

Final Fantasy XIV: Answers

I admit I knew not what to say to that, but then, for the second time in the space of a day, I felt the now-familiar tug of Harmony on my very spirit. ‘Twas then as I looked out with him to the east and draped my wing over him, that he began to sing, giving voice to his sorrow.

I ask of the sun, I can still hear war’s thunder
What is left for me now, that my soul has been sundered
My friends are all dead, and in grief do I wallow
How can I carry on if all I wish is to follow?

As he sang, I am told that all conversation throughout the ship ceased and eyes turned upwards towards the source of the song, hearts joined in shared grief and Harmony.

Greetings once again to all my little ponies. My role in this chapter will be brief but ‘twas unavoidable, for ‘twas not just those on the ship who heard his mournful song. Methinks that no matter how many times I have felt Harmony’s touch over my many years, I am still amazed by its ability to make us its voice; remind us all of its presence and purpose. Such it was here, and just when our reeling nation needed it most.

—Princess Celestia

Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1715 hours

Far away from Battle Group Capricorn, I stood on the east-facing balcony from which I normally enjoyed the rising sun. With the smoke from the Kalator clan covering the sky, however, the view was spoiled for me.

I sighed, and I admit to a moment of weakness, wondering if it might yet be worth surrendering myself to the gryphons simply to spare Canterlot and all my little ponies the dragons’ wrath. Then I heard the strains of Harmony, echoing to me from a great distance. The lyrics sounded clearly in my head, and when they were completed and I understood the singer’s anguish, I then felt it pull on me to sing—to answer his plaintive cry.

To all of my ponies in whom grief is abundant

As my voice rang out, I felt Harmony reaching out to other places; to far away and missing Cloudsdale, its survivors picking through the ruins.

To all of my ponies on whom war hath passed its judgement

To Fort Spur, the base and town working together to see what might be recovered.

The soul yearns for meaning, and to write a new chapter

Everywhere Harmony touched, I felt the ponies—my little ponies—stop what they were doing, listening to my voice.

Look to those who fell first to inspire those who fight after

EAS Loyalty
Upper Observation Deck
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1716 hours

I felt more than heard the words the Princess sung; the joined song in not just my heart, but my very soul. ‘Twas the call of Harmony; the call of Friendship and Unity. I knew not how I understood it was now my turn to sing, but I did so fervently:

Shining bright is Harmony’s light of purpose
The Imperials have not yet usurped us
Stand fast, stay strong, our fate, is not sealed...…
Hope is still alive, so be healed

Tears rolled down Sky Sentry’s face as he heard the words, and then the entire ship crew joined in, providing a choral backdrop to my voice.

Honor (Mourn) Recall (Grief) Ally (Join) Unite (Rise) Follow (Lead) Resolve (Stand) Regroup (Rest) Assist (Help) Heal (Salve) Ponder (Hope) Friendship (Faith) Cherish (Love) Proclaim (Sing) Recruit (Train) Weather (Storm) Retreat (Check) Gather (Force) Rise Up (Stand) Recruit (Train) Reforge (Arms) Battle (War) Triumph (Win) Answer Fight on

Then it was my turn again and this time, I stood in front of him and put my hoof on his chest, letting him see the emotion; the shared grief in my eyes:

Now open your heart as my words must be heeded
Only if we lose faith, will we then lie defeated
Our lands may be torn, but with friends not forsaken
Then we may yet still fight, for our hope is not taken

Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1716 hours

‘Twas then my turn to pick up the song again:

War born of fear, their numbers dissuade us not
(Rise Up! Resist!)
They claim they had no choice, but their lies betray their thoughts
Caught by surprise, Equestria may falter
(Fear what? Claim what?)
Friendship binds, all to a, fate the gryphons will, not alter
With Friendship, at our call, our nation will not fall, we shall yet stand tall!

EAS Loyalty
Upper Observation Deck
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1717 hours

The chorus sounded again, this time joined by what sounded like all Equestria. And when it was complete, the final lines in the harmony-fueled song were mine, the lyrics giving voice to all my innermost thoughts and feelings I knew not how to say before:

All life is a riddle, full of rapture and sorrow
For us to rise up, we must all live for tomorrow
In this one fleeting moment, please hear Harmony’s song
In this one fleeting moment, let it make your soul strong.
In this same fleeting moment
You must fight
On
For Them

I hugged him hard as I voiced those final words, and he broke down, sobbing, one final time, having his forlorn question answered in a way that could not be denied. I held him close for a minute, letting him cry himself out, then left him alone at his request, so he could yet reach the resolution he needed to.

When he appeared again the next day, I would not say his mind or spirit was fully healed, but he did find the strength to fight again, vowing to do so in the name of his former comrades at my side.

Well-said—and well-sung!—as always, Captain.

On the gryphon side, we used to mock the pony propensity for breaking out into spontaneous song, and thought that as strong warriors and the superior species, we were beyond the need for such things. We would find out later how spurious that belief truly was; I was never so surprised as when it finally happened to me!

Before I begin the next section, I have a few observations to make. Methinks I would first like to compliment your husband: having engaged him in mortal combat during the war and some friendlier spars afterwards, I know firstwing that he is a fine stallion and warrior, and my cubs have learned much from his combat academy. The essence of a warrior, I think you will agree, is not that you are never beaten, but that you pull yourself back up and learn from it, becoming an even better fighter after. ‘Tis certain that in the end, he did.

The second item regards your sister. For reprising her joint commander role from the Dragon Lord Diabla conflict and thwarting that whole sordid and shameful attempt to overthrow the new order, Wind Whistler has the thanks of the entire Gryphon nation—save, perchance, the plotters, who methinks would have been less likely to restore the Empire than cause a short but bloody civil war that would have ended with Arnau in ruin and a weakened Kingdom without its Royal Line, leaving it potential prey for the Ibixian Supremacy to the east.

Neither I nor any but the most zealous of former Imperials have any wish for further war. After a century of nearly continuous conflict, most gryphons are happy to enjoy a time of peace; to rediscover our lost arts and culture that was slowly forgotten, subsumed by the Empire’s all-consuming militarism—an awakening process your son has definitely played a role in. Looking back on our recent history, ‘twould seem that the Empire’s ultimate flaw was that it could not survive without constant conquest. A lesson ‘twould seem the plotters failed to heed.

The request is to be made formally, but methinks I will make it here as well: I know your sister wishes to remain with her father now, but My Queen requests her presence before she returns to the Kingdom so she may recognize Wind Whistler properly. She is even willing to visit her at the hospital to do so.

—Layan Kaval

I will present the offer to my sister later, but I know her well enough to guess she will be suitably honored but request a private visit rather than a public ceremony, as ‘tis never been her way to seek fame or fortune. But within those conditions, methinks it safe to say the Queen can be accommodated, Ambassador. Methinks the Admiral might wish to see her as well.

—Firefly

So noted, Captain. I wish to also offer my congratulations for completing the tale of the first day of the conflict, detailing superbly the arrival of the Royal Navy and subsequent Escape from Epsilon. ‘Twas a daring rescue worthy of song, though methinks Prelate Gaius and certainly myself were less than happy at its outcomes.

—Layan Kaval

From the gryphon side, the first day of war had concluded generally satisfactorily given the agonizingly short notice on which we had launched offensive operations.

Looking at the map, most of the Equestrian border bases and forces were destroyed and the door to Equestria thrown open, with Outpost Epsilon evacuated and resistance at Omega along with its nearby Army bases finally ended, leaving all but the millennium-sized garrison at Gamma under our wings. ‘Twas true that we had not generally reached our first day objective line, but that had been drawn assuming we were attacking with the intended thirty legions instead of sixteen.

All was not well, however. Casualties had been unacceptably heavy among our attacking forces, especially in the north. The reports from the 16th Talon Legion were particularly grim, having lost nearly half its soldiers by the time the two airships escaped with the rescued Epsilon garrison aboard.

I was shocked by the news of the Royal Navy’s appearance, and though he hid it well, I have no doubt the Prelate was just as surprised. On the one wing, such an unlikely operation made no sense, as he observed—methinks quite correctly—that a single half-strength Corps battalion was not worth risking three sorely needed airships and their crews.

Yet they’d done it anyway. Worse, given we’d crippled or destroyed every Naval base except one, the only possible location it could have come from was Stalliongrad, on the other side of Equestria and left off the initial target list because it was too far for our forces to fly in daylight.

Owl-controlled ponies in Canterlot—not all of our mind-control victims were assassins; some were merely there to pass intelligence—further reported that the ships had acted without orders, which was even more unthinkable to us. For to do so was a capital offense in the Imperial military, but ‘twould certainly explain why we had no warning of their departure or destination.

Whilst the northern advance would have to await reinforcement before it could press further, and the central front was likewise delayed by the need to reserve nearly an entire legion to the task of keeping Gamma pinned, the southern sector was a different story. ‘Twas certain we had made the biggest inroads in the south, perchance because ‘twas closest to our supply base at Cirrus Cassida, or perchance because of the quality of the commander.

The rapid advance of the 7th Talon legion had caused much consternation at headquarters. It had quickly captured Fillydelphia and Baltimare on the wingbeats of the dawn raider attacks on the two cities, but then their lead cohorts had passed out of communication range, falling silent and leading to some fear that they had been cut off and destroyed by reinforcing Corps forces sweeping in from the south, on alert and eager for vengeance after the raid on Fort Spur.

Thankfully, ‘twas not the case as the legion commander, Legate Romelus, had simply swept all before her. She had not only taken all her first-day objectives but her first week ones as well, seizing Antlerapolis before pushing all the way to Fort Feathertop at Mareassas—whose Corps battalion she destroyed—near the foot of the Applelachian Mountains. The latter marked the border of the bat-pony lands, which all Imperial forces were under strict orders not to enter. Methinks I will refrain from telling that part of the story for now, however.

‘Tis worth noting that the raider groups we used in the initial assault had accomplished their goals a little too well, as several escaping ships had been sunk in the harbor, blocking its use by our transports until they could be cleared. They had also exceeded their instructions in their assault on the Pony Navy’s Orion base in Baltimare, destroying the airships but also having all but slaughtered the ill-trained troops there.

Though the battle group and its crews were annihilated, the brutal attack and refusal to take prisoners by the Aqua and Magma raider groups had provoked strong resistance amongst the pony populace, preventing us from consolidating our control quickly.

The exceeding of orders there would be dealt with separately, however, as contact with our lost legion was reestablished late that night and ‘twas the north that held the Prelate’s attention as the sun dawned the following morning. Leaving his headquarters staff to deal with the remains of the pony raid and reestablish their operations further back from the border, he had insisted on being taken into the north to see the disaster that had befallen our forces there firstwing. I, in turn, had insisted on accompanying him, flying alongside his air carriage as his earth gryphon wings simply could not take him the distance.

Leaving after sunrise, we arrived not long after noon to see the scars of battle and fallen soldiers everywhere, of which far too many were gryphons. There was a large scour scar in the desert floor cut directly across the northern half of the ruined base, leading into the deep river gorge; its trace clearly marked by a collapsed canyon wall—the trail of the tornado that the Epsilon garrison had generated to ambush our forces as they retreated to their redoubt.

All of which we were already aware of, but which the commander of the 16th Talon legion tried to recount, to the Prelate’s great annoyance.

“I have read the reports and am fully aware of the facts, Legate Galea,” Salvio Gaius cut him off sharply, “and ‘tis certain I do not need them regurgitated for me. What I need now is an explanation as to why the attack on the base was not immediately halted when the storm was sighted.

“As to why our forces were sent in despite the obvious danger to be slaughtered beneath it. As to why you waited for such an arbitrary time as midnight instead of demanding an immediate surrender, and then attacking at once upon refusal. As to how you allowed three ancient airships to successfully ambush your legion...” His voice was generally calm but icy cold as he then leaned in close to let the Legate see his ire.

“And when all that is done, perchance you might also explain as to why a single duel was allowed to delay our assault on their escaping forces?” he all but growled out the words.

The Legate visibly swallowed but answered. “On my honor, My Lord, Tribune Rialta attempted to abort the attack—I heard her desperate efforts to do so over the scrying network! But the storm blocked our communications and then her entire command group was ambushed and lost—“

“And the reason she was commanding this attack instead of you, when you yourself had already reported she was having trouble coordinating your forces?” The Prelate drummed his talons on the wooden desk he sat at; ‘tis worth noting we were having our meeting in the ruins of the Equestrian base, inside the remains of the commander’s stateroom, which seemed to be less a military headquarters than an art studio.

The Legate chose his next words carefully, perchance knowing he was being indirectly accused of cowardice and dereliction of duty. “Because the plan was hers and I was attempting to manage our front. Because she insisted upon the chance to atone for her earlier errors and what I was told was a poor performance at the parley.”

“I see. And your opinion of her plan, Tribune?” he called back to me.

I had expected the question and already had an answer prepared. “In fairness, ‘twas not a bad plan at first glance, My Lord,” I admitted, having reviewed several order scrolls Rialta had earlier issued. “Its main error was not one of tactics, but timing. Mayhap it might have worked but for the foolish decision to wait and grant the ponies the time they needed to prepare their superstorm; once surrender was refused, the operation should have been launched immediately. But even their storm would not have availed them had we simply waited it out. There was nowhere they could go.”

“I concur. And that begs the question: why did you rush the attack?” the Prelate asked next.

“Because, My Lord... their efforts were forcing us to concentrate too large a percentage of my legion against them and I promised you this sector would be ours by daybreak! And—” methinks he saw the problem with his own explanation too late.

“And even were that some form of actual deadline—which it was not—there was no reason you could not have waited a couple hours for the storm to clear once it was sighted,” Gaius instantly pointed out.

“And how, exactly, did you not see it when it was being made?” Primarch Livia Cassius Junus, who had insisted on joining the Prelate in her continuing role as an observer, spoke up. “Methinks that the presence of a growing thunderhead in an otherwise dry desert might be just slightly obvious.”

“For once, she has a good point, Legate,” the Prelate noted, though I could tell the admission pained him. “Perchance you could explain how was it not spotted and reported?”

Despite his efforts at control, Galea was starting to visibly squirm. “They hid their efforts under a deep deck of fog, sir. And…” he trailed off, perchance recognizing again that his explanation was not going to suffice.

“And what?” I knew from long experience that Salvio Gaius was starting to lose patience, for if there was anything he hated, ‘twas vacillation brought upon by an underling trying to evade admission of guilt or failure.

“And was that fog bank eight leagues high?” I couldn’t resist asking, my tone dry. “By the Empress, we could see that storm all the way from Raptor Base!”

The Legate was now getting visibly flustered. “Please understand that ‘twas the result of Rialta’s plan, My Lord. She kept all her assault forces at low altitude, hidden in the fog so the ponies would not know from which direction they would come, and then ordered them to observe a communications blackout until the attack went in…” he cringed to admit, perchance only then realizing how bad it sounded.

“And thus, my soldiers were unaware the storm was there until they were under it! I am told my Talons all but begged the Knights to turn back, but they would not do so, having received no orders—even though the Tribune was desperately trying to send them.”

What followed was a rare show of temper as the Prelate’s drumming talons suddenly clenched and dug deep furrows into the desk with a loud and painful sound.

It was several seconds before he spoke again. “Get out of my sight, Legate,” he ordered in a deceptively calm voice. “Methinks ‘twould be best if I decide your fate later, when I am in a less murderous mood.”

With that, the suddenly but sorely-endangered legion commander bared his throat hard and departed, trying not to appear too nervous or hasty as he withdrew.

“You have now heard the Legate’s accounting of events. Your opinion, Tribune?” the Prelate asked me again after another minute had passed and he had regained some measure of control.

I understood well where his anger was coming from, having cataloged a long litany of errors from the Legate’s description of events myself. “I believe I must now take back what I said, My Lord,” I admitted in great disgust. “From not having eyes in the sky to failing to create contingencies to observing a communication blackout that was pointless given the circumstances, that plan had holes wide enough to drive an entire pony airship through. Which they eventually did.”

“So what are you going to do about it, Prelate?” The Primarch smirked. “Never mind the superstorm, I seem to recall asking you about the pony navy, and you dismissed it as a bunch of ‘antiquated relics’ that would be of no consequence or concern. So ‘twould seem that you were wrong yet again this day! And yet again, our forces suffered severely!”

“We targeted their navy and destroyed at least six of their twelve airships on the first day of war, Primarch!” he bit back. “We hit what we could reach! And the possibility of the one base we didn’t target launching such an audacious operation without orders from so far away could hardly have been considered likely!”

“Oh? And here I thought you were a master strategist who could foresee all!” she mocked him, and, by the renewed curling of his talons and sharp lashing of his tail, for a moment I thought the Prelate was going to challenge her to a duel right then and there.

To his credit, however, he swallowed his pride and his temper, knowing the Empress would look none too kindly on him slaying her designated observer. ‘Twas certain he also knew that should he carry the campaign to a successful conclusion as he had so many times in the past, he would then fully gain the Empress’ favor and could do whatever he wanted to with the Primarch of the Paladins.

Exhaling slowly from his beak and closing his eyes, he spoke once more, calmer in tone than before. “I will order our own navy to cut its shakedown cruises short and proceed immediately across the Eagle Ocean to our aid,” he promised, referring to what Ponies called the Antlertic Ocean.

“Regardless, their tactic is exposed, as is the fact that they have one dangerous battle group in action. ‘Twill not be enough, and we will develop tactics to counter them should they appear again. In the meantime, our investigation here continues. I wish to know more about the cavern battle, so let us visit it and call in the Raven commander to meet us next.”

As I read this account now, it strikes me that the Prelate was in fact operating with an impediment in the form of Primarch Livia Cassius Junus, whose purpose, near as I can tell, seemed to be less to observe him than to torment him. I know not their history, but had this occurred in the pony military at the time, a death duel would certainly have resulted, and I find myself impressed that Salvio Gaius did not rise to such provocations as she issued.

—Firefly

‘Twas not that he did not wish to, Captain, and had he thought she was impeding his efforts or the progress of the campaign—which merely insulting him did not rise to the level of—I have no doubt he would have dueled and slain her regardless of the Empress’ favor.

Perchance he also let it go because he knew on some level that she was, in fact, correct—that he should have at least ordered a watch set on the one unraided Royal Navy base lest their ships tried to sortie. As it stood, they took the 16th Talon Legion completely by surprise, and much as he may have wished to, the Prelate knew that ultimately could not be blamed on Legate Galea.

—Layan Kaval

Fifteen minutes later found us picking through the rubble of the cavern battle, where we saw soldiers dragging dead gryphon and pony bodies into a pit where they could be burned.

That we were treating the Equestrian dead the same as our own was not a show of honor; ‘twas a precautionary act ages old to ensure that neither our fallen nor that of our enemy could be claimed by an ancient foe called the Cloven of the Sun, and their corpses reanimated against us. But the Cloven had been vanquished long before, and the least we could say of the scene was that the losses there were far more even.

An overturned pony table was set upright as the Prelate then turned his interview efforts from the initial Legion commander to the replacement one, pouring some tea for him. He, like me, expected the interview to be much less infuriating, at least as far as the interview subject went

“At ease, Tribune Tempest Umbra,” he told the Raven tiercel he had summoned, who saluted and bared his throat immediately upon his appearance, passing through his cordon of guards. “Please be seated. And be assured, I do not hold you at fault for this debacle.”

“The fact that you promoted me to Talon Tribune told me as much, My Lord.” He bared his throat again, now wearing Talon pauldrons and a command chain in addition to his Raven attire. “For which I thank you, even if I am confused as to why I was rewarded for this failure.”

“Because ‘twas through no fault of your own. I sent you to reverse this situation, and from the reports I have read, your plan to do so was superbly conceived and executed. You could not have foreseen the Royal Navy’s intervention, let alone it coming from the gryphon side of the border. But I do wish to know from your own beak your account of this action.”

“Yes, My Lord.” He sat up straight before the Prelate and accepted the bowl of tea, taking a small drink before speaking. “But I know not what else I can tell you that was not in my report, as what happened was quite simple: all was going well, but then we were undone by the surprise appearance of pony airships and the honor of a single idiotic Knight,” he said in disgust as he took his first drink from the bowl. “The first opened the door to their escape. The second allowed them to pass through it.”

‘Twas a particularly succinct summary of events, I thought, and for not trying to excuse or sugarcoat it, the Prelate did respect him. “I have read your after-action reports. You say Centurion Nael threatened you if your teams intervened in his duel?”

“Ordered a halt to the attack while the duel proceeded, and then ordered his fellow Knights to slay us if we did anything to disrupt it, yes!” he spat out. “And then when that youngling traitor intervened, he allowed himself to be goaded into dueling him as well; the damned, crow-bitten fool! I begged him to set us loose and order an attack, but he would not!”

The Prelate nodded slowly in understanding—’twas what we had heard from the Knights and multiple Ravens at this point, so we had no reason to doubt his account. “This youngling traitor—I wish to know more. He was a former raider, who are hardly known for their battle prowess. So exactly how was he able to defeat a veteran Fortis Knight in single combat?”

The Raven commander considered the question carefully before answering. “'Tis difficult to explain how he could be so good. Methinks his combat style was unique. If I had to compare it to anything, I would say he fought like a Black Lance, My Lord,” he mused. “Which mayhap makes sense if he was schooled by one—our reports said that he was undergoing blade training with Swift Strike, the garrison’s pet Lance operative.

“I know not how the youngling was trained up to that level in such a short time, but it disgusts me to say that from what I saw of the duel, he was every bit as fast and skilled as us. For he not only survived engagement with two of my number during the initial breach, but he took down the Centurion in superb fashion, goading him into a second duel and then using his superior speed against him. Methinks Nael could barely touch him and in the end, he fell to a slashed throat.”

“You may be assured that I agree Nael was a fool of the first order. But the reason you did not attack the ponies immediately once he fell…?” Gaius challenged.

Umbra’s beak clenched and his eyes narrowed. “Methinks you may ask our Fortis Knight friends the answer to that question,” he grated out. “Be assured, Prelate, that I promptly ordered an attack, but they did not follow! They said that the Centurion’s acceptance of the duel terms stood despite his death and thus, they could not assist us in the effort! My three teams then declined a futile fight against a prepared battle line braced with fresh forces that outnumbered us six to one.”

“Understandable. And the losses to your teams…?” The Prelate began drumming his talons again.

The Raven looked embarrassed. “Two with minor wounds received engaging their resident Black Lance and Guardspony commander. None dead,” he recited, which I couldn’t help but note was a far cry from the reports still slowly trickling in from the attack on Cloudsdale, where the Wind Knight and Raven losses in the operation were being described by the survivors as catastrophic.

“Pathetic,” Livia Junus spoke up. “And you are supposed to be the most skilled and deadly assassins in all the Empire? My opinion is that you should have attacked anyway! Slew the traitor and their leadership even at the cost of your lives!”

“I care not for your opinion, Primarch!” The Raven Tribune rounded on her. “I am perfectly willing to sacrifice my teams and myself for Empress and Honor, but not in a hopeless attack that gains us nothing! I slew several ponies personally this night, and I did not rise to my station without reason as I have over sixty successful missions and five Black Lance kills to my name!

“So if you think me pathetic, feel free to challenge me! Methinks I will be more than happy to add your overstuffed and empty head to my trophy collection!” he goaded her, completely unintimidated by her large stature, to which she snarled and hefted her war hammer, ready to issue the challenge right then and there.

I had to stifle a smile as the Raven’s words and actions met with my approval, listening as he voiced the sentiments I might have wished to but was unable to. Whatever his own thoughts—I’m sure he would have not minded in the least the chance to be rid of the Primarch and not be blamed for it—the Prelate held up a single set of foretalons.

“Enough. As much as I might enjoy such a spectacle, we will not descend into duels over a failed operation, particularly one that none present bear blame for. Unfortunately, most of those who do bear blame are already slain.” His expression turned dark.

“Then discipline the legion commander!” Livia demanded. “Show me and the Empress that there is some penalty for failure, Prelate!”

His eyes flickered towards her in annoyance. “So be it. Summon the Legate,” he finally ordered his guards.

A minute later, Galea entered and saluted again, trembling slightly as he awaited his fate.

The Prelate returned his salute before speaking, regarding him coldly. “Legate Galea, you have gravely disappointed me and the Empress with the conduct of your command. You should have exercised much greater oversight over the operations against Epsilon than you did, particularly given the shortcomings of your second—shortcomings that you yourself reported,” he recited the damning facts slowly as the soon-to-be-defrocked Legate stood rigid before him.

“The errors in judgment and failures of discipline this day were numerous and inexcusable—errors that have held up the northern wing of our advance and cost us nearly two and a half millennia of soldiers! These facts are incontrovertible, and I am not swayed by your attempts to shift blame to your second, given you failed to properly supervise her. So before I pass sentence, have you anything to offer in your defense?”

“No, My Lord.” Methinks he just managed to keep the quaver from his voice. “‘Tis exactly as you say. And for it, what is your decision?”

The Prelate regarded him for a moment before speaking again. “For such grievous and pointless losses as you have sustained, I relieve you of command and leave the 16th Talon legion under the control of newly elevated Raven Tribune Umbra until a more suitable replacement can be named.” He nodded off to the side, where the Tribune still sat, staring in contempt at him.

“As for punishment, you are reduced in rank to Centurion and will be given command of a century in place of a legion. If you wish to restore your rank and honor, you can do it leading troops on the front lines where you failed to do so before. That is all I will grant you. And mayhap more than you deserve.”

The now-former Legate saluted once before he was stripped of his rank insignia and several pieces of armor that his lower status meant he was no longer entitled to wear. “I will carry out your orders to the best of my abilities, Prelate,” he promised, clearly struggling to control his emotions. “For Empress and Honor!”

“Disgraceful,” the unimpressed Primarch pronounced upon his departure, which was swiftly followed by Tribune Umbra, who left to reorganize the remains of his crippled legion. “You should have executed him on the spot!”

“To borrow Centurion Umbra’s phrase, I care not what you think, Primarch!” There was an edge to the Prelate’s voice. “Galea was a good soldier and leader once. Perchance he lost sight of what that means and needs only to be reminded of it. For Centurion Nael was right about one thing: the loss of honor can be a very strong motivator to a gryphon warrior.”

“And what of Centurion Nael himself?” I prompted. “Even in death, his offenses cannot be ignored.”

“Agreed.” Prelate Gaius drummed his talons again. “For enabling the escape of the Epsilon garrison and then falling disgracefully to a pony-trained fledgling, dishonor his name and demote his second,” he ordered. “You will then issue the following proclamation to be read throughout the Imperial military: any soldier, regardless of service branch, who endangers an operation to fight a duel with opposing soldiers will be stripped of rank and honor, and will then spend the rest of the war in the gem mines—if they are lucky.”

“It will be done,” I bowed, and then took a quick note.

“Good,” he pronounced as we left the tent and headed for his waiting air carriage again. “And I will further order that from here on out, there will be no surrender deadlines. Surrender is to be offered but once before an attack, and if not immediately accepted, the defending force is to be wiped out with no prisoners taken except on explicit orders,” he directed, his eyes narrowed.

“The ponies abused our generosity this past night and it cost us dearly. No more—they will learn that resistance is futile, and if the cost of teaching them that is a few razed bases and villages, then so be it.”

An ominous order indeed, and one methinks I can almost understand given the losses we inflicted on the Talons that first day of war. In truth, I am flattered that the Prelate thought well enough of the Navy to target us so extensively on the first day, for he showed far more respect to us than many ponies did at that point in time.

Fair skies and following winds once again to all readers. ‘Tis Commodore Shady speaking now, and ‘twould seem the final words in the chapter once again belong to me. I admit I did know about the plot against the Queen, and I was present as much for that as to be there for Tailwind.

I sought also to guard him, hoping that my uncanny luck, which, with considerable practice, I’ve managed to turn into a more targeted weapon over the years, could protect him. Regardless, due less to my efforts than certainly that of Wind Whistler, he and the Queen are safe, and the alliance between our two nations is strengthened instead of sundered.

So for the final words of this entry, I would wish to detail what we found upon arrival at Ursa base. Suffice it to say, we sought refuge there from our pursuit, only to find upon arrival that there was none.

—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad

Royal Navy Base Ursa
On the northeastern shore of the Lunar Sea
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1830 hours

At half-speed, ‘twas nearly sunset before we reached what we thought was sanctuary at Royal Naval Base Ursa.

Unfortunately, ‘twas soon apparent that it was anything but, as the evidence of a gryphon attack was all around. Half the facilities were lost, with some fires still smoldering. Two airships lay in ruin, smashed into pieces on the ground, and the third, though still intact, was heavily damaged and being quickly stripped of anything useful; as we watched, cannons were taken off an undamaged deck to another ship in the distance.

“That’s odd,” I couldn’t help but note. “That’s the Armistice. They look like they’re not repairing him, but breaking him down.”

“They are,” Ensign Kusema confirmed, having grabbed only a few hours of sleep before returning to her station, her hoof at her ear gem again. “According to the reports I’m hearing, they’re cannibalizing him to make the Yoketown flightworthy again.”

“The Yoketown?” Tailwind asked in disbelief before I could. “But he’s a museum ship! He hasn’t sailed in half a century!”

“‘Twould seem they had no choice, sir, given the Alliance and Entente were total losses along with most of their crews.” Kusema’s voice was numb; I knew not if ‘twas from the news or from simple fatigue. “The Armistice likewise sustained heavy casualties and damage, though ‘twould seem ‘twas his guns and air wing that finally succeeded in driving off the attack.

“His engines are dead and ‘tis unlikely they can be repaired before the gryphon advance overruns the base, so they decided to try to bring the undamaged Yoketown back into service instead,” she explained, and as we watched, we saw the old ship’s ballonets being slowly inflated, with some visible leaks being quickly patched from salvaged pieces of fabric.

I shook my head at the news. “Can they even crew him?”

“Using surviving crews from all three ships… yes, if only barely. The Port Admiral, however, requests any crew we can spare for him.”

“Tell him we’ll see what we can do.” The Naval Base commander, Port Admiral Ironclad, had been both shocked and relieved to see us—they had indeed been told of our operation and that we intended to return to Ursa, but he had been certain, and ‘twas hardly without reason, that our foalhardy rescue mission would result in our destruction.

Such was relayed to me by Kusema, who passed messages between us as the Port Admiral had lost his communications office, destroyed along with his headquarters which he had been absent from that morning only by happenstance. He was thus forced to use civilian dragonfire gems to coordinate his remaining forces, which were neither secure nor had the range or networkability of military grade crystals. Until I could receive a paired gem, of which he had none to spare, this meant I could not speak to him directly, forcing Kusema to act as a go-between, as she alone could listen in on civilian communications. “Perchance he could at least tell us what happened here?”

Kusema asked the question, and waited until she had an answer. “The Port Admiral reports they had barely started to mobilize when they were struck by a reinforced Knight cohort not long before noon, and their base was nearly razed, ma’am. They fought off the attack but at enormous cost. Army troops are en route to garrison the facility, but in the meantime, he requests that the Loyalty and Vigil remain on patrol and ready to repel any additional raids. He offers the remnants of the Armistice’s air wing for the purpose as well, but warns ‘tis ‘but a few dozen brave and bloodied souls’ that remain.” She sounded like she was quoting him.

I offered up a silent prayer. “Any reinforcements are welcome, but tell them we need to dock for at least an hour in order to take on supplies and get our wounded off.”

Kusema relayed the message only to grimace. “He says they will give us what they have and can offer us some fuel, but with most of their depots hit, they have little to spare. He further reports their surviving healers are overwhelmed and they have no room for our wounded, ma’am,” she recited grimly. “He therefore requests we keep our wounded aboard and ask in turn if we have any room for theirs.”

I closed my eyes, wondering if the situation could be any more dire. “Not unless we want to lay them out on the upper deck. Check with Copper Coin to see if he has space,” I directed, referring to the Commander of the Vigil, a slightly snobbish unicorn stallion who, like Sterling Silver, had been born to minor nobility. Somewhat to my surprise, he had acquitted himself well that day, carrying out orders crisply, successfully repelling the Talon attack on his ship and even leading the effort personally.

“Aye, ma’am. He also states that they are transferring their more minor wounded to healers in nearby towns. But most of their transports were lost in the raid, so they request the use of our lifeboats in the effort.”

I rubbed my eyes with a hoof, making a mental note to exchange communication crystals as soon as possible—’twas annoying and inefficient to have to go through Ensign Kusema like this. “Tell him our lifeboats are likewise drained of power given we used their crystals to enable our escape. So his choice is: he can either fuel our airships or our lifeboats, but not both.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” If Kusema was annoyed at being used like this, she did not show it as she once again relayed my words. “He suggests splitting the difference—he will partially fuel the Loyalty and a select number of her lifeboats whilst the Vigil can remain docked where his guns can cover his hospital and new headquarters, and he can also be used as a second and sorely needed infirmary.”

I grimaced again, not liking the idea of having no escort and certain Copper Coin would be none too happy at such orders either. But methinks I could not find a better solution, and the Port Admiral was a superior officer anyway. “Very well. Tell him we will pass that along to the Vigil and dock at their convenience.”

Another minute passed before the Port Admiral spoke again. “He requests the Vigil to put down by the infirmary, and the Loyalty to put down over the drill fields, ma’am, a mile ahead on the port side,” Kusema relayed. “As their docks are destroyed, they’ll wheel in supplies using borrowed civilian carts and workers.”

‘Twas certain at that moment I felt the gryphon attack had driven us back to the dark ages for the damage they’d done us. “Orders acknowledged. Mister Sora, take us in. Advise the crew of our instructions, and order all hoofs to stand to and prepare to lower the boarding ramps to take on supplies.”

* * * * *

‘Twas nearly midnight when we took off again and began circling Ursa, with the Corps and Naval pegasi running combat air patrols over the half-ruined base in shifts. And this time, after snagging barely a couple hours rest, Master Sergeant Firefly joined me on the bridge.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she told me at my inquiry. “Methinks I’m tired, and yet, my mind will not rest. I keep expecting some new crisis or attack to roust me and thus, I fear to close my eyes. I wonder if this is the normal state of war?” she pondered aloud almost glumly, to which I ordered up from the galley some of the mint tea that had always quieted my mind and helped me sleep. Once it arrived, ‘twas my intention to order her to drink it and then go back to bed—she may have commanded her battalion, but ‘twas my ship they were on and thus, all on board answered to me—when a visibly tired Kusema spoke up again.

“Ma’am, incoming communication. It’s from Canterlot,” she reported in a slightly nervous tone.

I gave a sigh of resignation. I’d known this was coming, though ‘twas certain I wished it could have at least kept until morning. “Patch it through, Ensign,” I directed, deciding ‘twas better to get my dressing-down over with sooner as opposed to later. “And as we are closer to Canterlot now, establish visual, if possible.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” A couple of seconds later, a projection of Admiral Coral Torch appeared on the main crystal display. The seafoam-green pegasus mare looked stern, as always, though her no-nonsense image was somewhat ruined by the fact that her mane appeared to be free-floating around her. In fact, it almost looked like she was underwater and that her hoof was stretched out past the picture to hold whatever device she was using to communicate with us.

My observations were interrupted as she spoke. “So, Captain Shady. Despite all odds, ‘twould appear you managed to survive your idiotic expedition to the border.” Her eyes then landed on Firefly, who stood up a bit straighter under the Admiral’s appraising gaze. “And ‘twould seem you even managed to rescue at least part of the garrison stationed there. I suppose you think yourself terribly clever, managing to pull that off,” she stated in some scorn as her gaze returned to me.

I didn’t rise to the bait. “Ma’am, unofficial as our mission was, I am pleased to report the successful rescue of at least 100 of the Aerial Corps’ finest whilst inflicting great loss to the gryphons… though ‘tis with regret I must also report that ‘twas not without severe loss of our own. We suffered significant casualties to our air wing, as well as several dozen more to our crews when the gryphons attempted a boarding action.”

I took and released a deep breath before continuing, steeling myself for what I had to report next. “Our greatest loss, though, was the Duty. When her engines were disabled, Lieutenant Commander Sterling Silver adhered to Naval General Order Number Five.

“She destroyed her own ship by detonating the ship’s crystal power core, killing everypony—and every gryphon—on board. For such fearless sacrifice, I recommend her posthumous decoration as a Moon Knight accompanying her promotion to full Commander, and I take full responsibility for disobeying orders and the loss of life we’ve sustained. Be assured I will submit myself to those you may designate for arrest and court-martial. I will not contest the charges, and I will accept my punishment without protest.” I stood at attention as I spoke; the bridge falling silent around me as they awaited the Admiral’s next words.

To her credit, Coral Torch limited her reaction to a single raised eyeridge. “A very frank assessment, Captain. And to be honest, ‘tis far better than I expected.” She closed her eyes briefly herself; I saw what looked like a series of bubbles pass in front of her. “Although the loss of the Duty with all hooves is regrettable, ‘tis certain it could have been far worse. In fact, methinks ‘tis certain I did not believe any of you would make it back.”

“But she did, Admiral,” Firefly spoke up on my behalf. “She saved us all and inflicted grievous losses on the gryphons in the process. She has my gratitude for her superb skill and leadership, and I wish you to know that I would go into battle with her again without any hesitation.”

“Your sentiment is noted, Master Sergeant,” the Admiral replied with a terse nod. “And mayhap you will shortly have that chance. ‘Tis fortuitous that I find you on the bridge with the Captain, for I have new orders for both of you.”

“New orders?” I blinked; this was a far cry from her earlier talk with me. “Ma’am? Am I then to be retained in command? Are you saying that there is to be no punishment for my actions?”

“I did not say that,” she reprimanded me sharply. “However, following a talk with Princess Celestia, I decided that your attempt to ‘make a difference’, as you termed it, was the correct decision, even without orders to do so. We need every experienced officer we have, so quite simply, I cannot now spare you. That said…” Her eyes opened, and she fixed me with a stare.

“Regardless of this operation’s outcome, I will be ordering an inquiry into your actions, from which severe censure or worse may yet result. Furthermore, I understand that you had a review for promotion to Commodore coming soon?” At my nod, she continued. “That review will be pushed back a period of six months. Consider this your punishment for now, Captain.”

I very nearly fell over with relief; an inquiry and a delayed review for promotion? ‘Twas far more than I could have expected or hoped for. “I… thank you for your mercy in this matter, Admiral. ‘Tis more than I deserve.”

She nodded, then her features softened. “Methinks I should be thanking you, Captain. You said you were trying to strike a blow for both the Navy and all Equestria, and despite my fears, ‘twould seem you succeeded. With this successful display of the Navy’s abilities, methinks it may yet be the impetus needed to begin our return to glory and become a feared force in this new war. I need not tell you we were once as respected as the Royal Guard,” here, she nodded to Firefly, “and ‘tis past time those days returned.”

“Then I have no regrets, ma’am,” I told her. “I accomplished what I set out to do.”

She offered up a rare grin in response. “Indeed you did. Methinks your triumph will also do wonders to silence our neighsayers in the other branches. In fact, given your victory here, the Princess is about to order the Navy’s expansion. Starting tomorrow, the keels of six new airships are to be laid at Stalliongrad. Though I fear finding crews for them may be another matter.”

Firefly chuckled, “You’ll hear no arguments from me on the subject of Naval expansion, Admiral, and ‘tis certain my father will be very happy to hear it. If you need recruiting help, I would be more than happy to use my notoriety to assist. Indeed, I believe I must take back every disparaging remark and thought I’ve ever had about the Navy!”

A round of chuckles passed through the bridge, and even the normally gruff Admiral allowed her mirth to show for a bare moment. “Coming from one of the fastest-rising stars in the Royal Guard, ‘tis high praise indeed!” she stated, only to immediately turn sober again. “That said, back to business. As earlier mentioned, I have new orders for both of you.”

We both straightened. “Ma’am?” we said as one.

“Since the invasion began, we’ve had no word from Cloudsdale regarding their status. Considering that the city was marked as a priority target in the pilfered invasion plans, we can only assume the gryphons did indeed attack it, though with communications broken to the Corps and militia bases there, we know not how bad things are.” She bit her lower lip.

“The Princess did direct two battalions of the Aerial Corps 1st Division to her defense, but we have heard naught from them either. Thus, this order comes directly from Princess Celestia: Battle Group Four is to head for Cloudsdale’s projected position no later than noon tomorrow and attempt to re-establish communications, as well as assess the damage to the city.”

“I see…” I considered the instructions carefully. “Have we any idea where to look?”

“They were directed by message runners to flee southwest from their original location, which as of yesterday, was drifting southeastward over the Applelachian Mountains roughly midway between the cities of Detrot and Bison. As neither Detrot nor Bittsburgh, which are the nearest major cities to their recommended retreat path, has spotted them, ‘twould seem likely they slipped between them to avoid observation from enemy spies and took cover near Lake Luna, in the fog over the high mountains that mark the border to bat-pony lands.”

Firefly and I exchanged a worried look. “I will carry out those orders to the best of my abilities, ma’am,” I nevertheless answered.

“I expect no less. And that brings me to the subject of you, Master Sergeant.” She turned to Firefly next. “To make up for the Loyalty’s air wing losses, the remains of the Epsilon garrison is to accompany them, as per the recommendation and orders of Captain Typhoon, who is also currently in temporary command of all Corps forces after the assassination of General Fairweather and her second. Worry not about Ursa; two battalions of soldiers from the Aerial Corps’ 4th Division will arrive tonight to defend the base in your absence.”

I exchanged a look with a relieved Firefly, then turned back to the Admiral as we saluted as one. “Aye-aye, ma’am!” I said, echoed by the younger mare. “But methinks we still lack sufficient fuel for the trip, and given their losses, Ursa Base has little to spare,” I informed her, but once again, she was ahead of me.

“I thought that might be the situation, Captain. So I have ordered Capricorn Base at Stalliongrad to dispatch thirty transports with additional supplies and crew to Ursa, including extra workers to help get the Yoketown ready and, if possible, repair the Armistice’s engines in time for evacuation and refit at Stalliongrad. The first transports should land at 0800. Take on what you need, and then head south, for Thestralslovakia.”

I exchanged another look with Firefly, who clearly had the same question I did. “And if the thestrals object to our presence…?”

“‘Tis certain the last thing we need is a second front, so be deferential and do your utmost to avoid conflict. Emphasize that you are not staying and that your sole mission is to see to the safety of Cloudsdale, Captain. Escort it away from thestral lands to a point near Windy City, by the southern tip of the Lunar Sea. I will feed you the exact coordinates later, but the Princess has a very specific purpose in mind for her pegasi.”

“Understood, ma’am,” I acknowledged, even as I wondered what possible purpose that could be.

“Good. As for the thestrals themselves, a formal delegation is en route to them. ‘Tis unlikely, however, that they will reach them before you do.

“So if contact is made, you are to apologize for the intrusion but remind them of their obligations as per the sovereignty settlement they reached with the Princess after the Celestial War. As that treaty includes a provision to defend Equestria in the event of invasion, Our Princess now calls upon them to fulfill their oath and offer their soldiers into our service…”

“War is cruelty. There is no use in trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.”

—General William Tecumseh Sherman

Author's Note

Welcome back to Firefly, about ten days early! I originally didn’t think this was going to be ready before the story’s two-year anniversary on September 1st, but as I had a head start thanks to some guest writing from Leo Archon, this came remarkably quickly. I was also able to do the two graphics in the space of just a few hours.

You may notice that there was only one song in this chapter, so it could take center stage. The suggestion for using Answers was Leo Archon’s, while the altered lyrics were mine. Can’t use the real ones because it’s against site rules for anything except MLP show songs.

As mentioned, additional thanks go to Leo for writing the first couple thousand words of this while I was working on Nightmare Night. Significant portions of two sections are his. Thanks goes as well to AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire and Denim_Blue for their customary prereads and suggestions as well as loading up the google doc with jokes, references, and comments. Reading what they come up with is one of the great joys I have for writing this.

Expect a second chapter to be ready in time for the story anniversary at the start of September, and the ending of this one should give some clue as to what it involves. Welcome back to Firefly, and hope everyone enjoys!

Rally and Recover: 2 - Day and Night

Dear readers—

I wish it known that this entry marks an anniversary of sorts. The release of this latest chapter comes two years to the day after I was first approached by Princess Celestia and asked to tell my story.

‘Tis certain I was very reluctant, not wishing to relive painful memories nor wishing my story to once again overshadow those of my comrades, who were every bit as deserving of accolade as many consider me, and sometimes more. But she was persistent, and in the end, I relented.

‘Tis worth noting that what finally swayed me was not a desire to have the spotlight on me, but to turn that spotlight on others. To make sure that all our stories are known and remembered; to make sure that ponies born after the war know the struggle and sacrifice that occurred within it—on both sides of the battle lines.

In this, I believe I have succeeded, telling the story of not just myself but all my fellow Bolt Knights, and deserving others like Father, Gavian, and Ambassador Kaval as well. The latter has promised that he has found some more gryphons willing to chronicle the Imperial side of the war, and they will be heard from going forward. But for now, ‘tis time to introduce three new perspectives to this tale, from several races that would be both revered and reviled in the course of the campaign.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

As we make the turn from the first day of the war into the main campaign, the former ending with the destruction of the bulk of Equestria’s border defenses and the latter commencing the rapid and unrelenting Imperial advance on Canterlot, there are still other perspectives which must yet be heard.

The purpose of this chapter, therefore, is to introduce readers to three individuals and races who would figure prominently in the conflict to come. All had different priorities and reasons for choosing the sides and taking the actions they did, and though their societies and traditions might seem odd or alien by the standards of pony and gryphon alike, ‘tis certain that their role in this conflict should neither be ignored nor denigrated.

To that end, ‘tis time to begin the story of our bat-pony brethren, as told by two then-minor figures who would, in time, ascend to great heights in their respective societies.

Thank you, Captain. You are, as you have always been, a great friend to our race and nation, and ‘tis my honor and pleasure to take up the pen for the first time in this tale.

Greetings to all readers from the fourth and oft-reviled pony tribe. I am Viceroy Europa Universalis, Thestralslovkia’s head of state. ‘Tis by the invitation of Captain Firefly, extended to me through my friend and fellow Emissary Fell Flight, that I offer up my own recollections of the great conflict for the first time.

For those who are unaware, I am a Nightborne thestral—in overly-simple terms, a dark-furred bat-pony—and the current leader of the Nightborne nation. But at the time of the war’s outbreak, I was but a lowly and barely adult aide to Viceroy Chardonnay, our then-head of state. Our role in the war is now well-known, but not so much all that led to it. Thus, at the request of the High Emissary and with the acquiescence of the Lunar Council itself, ‘tis time to tell our side of the tale.

What you will shortly read comes from a preserved transcript I wrote the first night of the war of a Lunar Council meeting I was present for, when the news of the invasion arrived. As you will soon see, the matters discussed were not idle ones, as we faced our gravest choices and challenges since the days of Nightmare Moon herself.

Signed,

— Europa Universalis
Viceroy
Hollow Shades
Thestralslovakia

Council of War

Lunar Council Chambers
Hollow Shades
Thestralslovakia
September 2nd, 1139 AL [Anno Lunae]

There were times during these oft-boring meetings of the Lunar Council that issues of great import were discussed. There were also instances of raised voices and demands to duel. Rarely, however, were the matters discussed so potentially dire as the news that night, and ‘twas all my pen could do to keep up with their debate.

Word had reached us at dusk from our outlying trading posts of the Gryphon Empire’s invasion of Equestria, and with their initial apparent success and our nearest borders only a few hundred miles away from theirs, we had to decide—quickly—what we were going to do about it.

Unfortunately, consensus amongst the councilbats proved as elusive as ever, at a time ‘twas certain we would need a united front should either side come calling.

“For now, methinks we should do nothing!” insisted Primrose Plum, the Minister of Agriculture, whose duties included managing both our oft-meager crops—we did our best, but earth ponies we simply were not—and the cattle trade. “Nothing except see which side gains the upper wing—methinks to commit to either side now would be foalish! We must wait to see who is winning! Then and only then should we consider who to cast our lot with so we may dine at the victor’s table!”

“That may not be possible, Primrose,” countered Minister of the Treasury Lord Shiraz, whose grape-growing and winemaking family had amassed a considerable fortune. “’Tis certain that before long, both sides will wish to enlist our aid! Perchance you wouldst explain what we should do when both Celestia and the gryphons send emissaries to us, seeking alliance and soldiers?”

“We tell them no! The gryphons are not our enemies, but we owe them nothing! And Celestia can rot in Tartarus for what she did to us after Luna’s fall!” the Interior Minister in charge of land and wild game management all but snarled, baring her pointed teeth.

Viceroy Chardonnay then offered up a more calmly-delivered point, as he so oft did. “The Nightmare. Not Luna,” he corrected softly in the very dim firegem lit-chamber, slitted eyes glowing with their reflected light around the table. “Luna fell to the Nightmare. And then we fell into her thrall, losing everything.”

Primrose Plum gave a scoffing sound. “Believe what you wish, Viceroy, but it changes nothing! We are under no obligation to join either side! We pay tribute to stay out of Celestia’s conflicts! Methinks she can manage without us!”

“And suppose they do not take no for an answer?” the Viceroy pointed out patiently. “You presume they would allow us to sit out the war. What if they do not? What if Celestia demands our service? Our agreement keeps us out of offensive wars, but there are provisions in our treaty for calling us to arms if Equestria is under attack!” he reminded us all, then held up a hoof at the shouts of protest that erupted to indicate he wasn’t done yet.

“Nor is Celestia the only concern here. Treaty or no, the question must be asked if ‘tis even possible for us to remain neutral with the war so close to our borders. What if the gryphons decide we are just another pony with different looking wings and thus an enemy to be fought? These questions must be considered this night, fellow Nightborne,” he reminded us, causing the chamber to fall silent until a new figure finally spoke.

“I agree with you, Viceroy,” called out Small Talk, our mare Minister of State, who managed our trading outposts and was one of the few thestrals who would go abroad to visit Canterlot when Celestia called, as she typically did once a year. “Your low opinion of the Sun Princess is unfair, Primrose. She has treated me—and us—nothing but honorably. Our weather is managed deftly by their pegasus weather teams and I find their diplomatic liaison very respectful, to say nothing of Celestia herself.

“”Tis certain we owe Equestria our continued existence, not just as a race but as a nation! Or perchance you have forgotten that instead of exiling us entirely, she ceded us these lands and granted us autonomy within them?”

“For a yearly ransom in taxes, yes!” Shiraz brought her hoof down hard upon the table. “We pay her tribute and she deigns to leave us some lakewater and a few other scraps to fight with the Lightborne over!” she said with a sneer, speaking in reference to Lake Luna, the large northern lake which Cloudsdale filled every fall, and our less numerous light-furred cousins, the Lightborne thestrals, or ‘Highborne’ as they called themselves.

We were not on good terms with the latter and hadn’t been for centuries; there was little love lost between us, methinks, as even going back to Luna’s time we had vied for her favor and had been perfectly willing to undermine the other to get it.

“And for it, we are masters of our own affairs,” Small Talk replied as evenly and diplomatically as ever. “It may behoof us to consider what should happen to her favor if we decline to aid her despite our treaty commitments, and then she wins the war anyway. She may see that as a betrayal to be punished and order our lands seized. And methinks I would be hard pressed to explain why she would not be justified in doing so.”

That only brought about another scoffing sound. “You say that as if we would make that easy for her, or the Equestrian military would be in any shape to fight us after the gryphons,” pointed out General Starry Skies, the leader of the Nightborne Army, also referred to as the Army of the Night in remembrance of its long-ago service to Luna. “If they elect to invade us, they will sorely regret it!”

“Oh? And what of the gryphons themselves?” Small Talk challenged. “What if they come south into our lands?”

“Why would they?” came the dismissive response from the General. “Look at a map, Minister—their most direct route to Canterlot is between the Lunar Sea and the Foal Mountains, safely away from us! And from a purely military point of view, methinks they would not want to antagonize a neutral nation on the flank of their advance. Particularly not one with such a prime defensive position, protected by mountain ranges as we are.”

“And suppose they worry that we might not stay neutral? Suppose they decide a potential threat on the flank of their advance cannot be tolerated, prime defensive position or no? Suppose they treat us as just another race of ponies to conquer, Starry Skies?” Viceroy Chardonnay mused aloud. “What then?”

“Then let them come!” Starry Skies stated with surety, baring his teeth in a predatory grin. “If they are so foalish as to choose a war with us, then so much the better! They know nothing of us or how we fight; only the Equestrians! They know not the terror they face should they challenge us! We will then defeat their invasion on our own, at which point, we can dictate terms to not only them, but to all Equestria!” He flared his large wings proudly in what some ponies found an intimidating display.

“Hear me out, fellow thestrals! Think of what we might gain! Having saved her precious ponies, Celestia will have no choice but to give us whatever we want! We can then gain true independence and dominion over all our lands! The Lunar Republic of our former and future queen will be reborn! At long last, we will no longer be tied to a nation and princess whose subjects despise us! Our destiny will be ours and ours alone!” he claimed, causing an eruption of approving calls and wingclaps from the assembled representatives.

Far from being reassured, Small Talk stared at him in disbelief before rubbing her eyes with a hoof. “Really. Then tell me, oh overconfident General—what will we do when they send even a third of their reported hundred thousand-strong invasion force at us? What will we do when your sixteen thousand soldiers suddenly find themselves facing six or more gryphon legions backed by mages and heavy weapons? How will we defeat such overwhelming numbers, particularly when they quickly learn that they can neutralize almost all our advantages by fighting us during the day, if they do not already know?”

Starry Skies gave her a contemptuous sneer. “Perchance you should stick to your tea parties with the ponies, as you clearly know nothing of military affairs! Do you really think we have not considered the question of daytime fighting, Madam Minister of State? That we have not made great strides in addressing such weaknesses in the past three hundred years?” he asked haughtily. “Do you truly think we do not have contingencies and battle plans to deal with an invasion? Or that my sixteen thousand regulars is all we have at our disposal?”

“An invasion from Celestia, yes! Not from the Gryphon Empire, who can dwarf our numbers and fight at night almost as well as us!” For one of the few times since I had known her, Small Talk raised her voice. “I say we cannot stay neutral in this conflict! I say we throw our lot in with Celestia here and now!”

“Traitor!” came the cry from Councilor Corvis, one of thirteen representatives from our outlying towns and villages; his voice heard clearly over the shouts of outrage and betrayal that erupted. “I knew you were soft, but ‘twould seem your time with the ponies has addled your mind! Even with our beloved Queen in exile, we serve the Moon, not the Sun! If we truly want independence, methinks the quickest way to gain it is to ally with the gryphons! Our aid would ensure their victory over Celestia and then they would grant us all we desire afterwards!”

“How dare you…” Small Talk flared her bat-wings and lowered her head, hissing sharply through bared teeth as she pawed at the ground angrily with her hoof. “Your hatred of Celestia blinds you! I say she is not the threat here! The gryphons are! You wouldst repeat the mistakes of the past and for it, condemn us all to exile or worse!”

“I dare, you pony-loving apostate! And I say ‘twas not a mistake to ally with the Nightmare then! And ‘tis not a mistake to join with the gryphons now!”

At that point, the Viceroy’s gavel came down repeatedly, silencing both sides of the debate. “Enough! Methinks this bickering is pointless, and ‘tis certain I prefer not to see blood spilled on the council floor in a duel this night! For such grave matters as we face, whatever we decide must be agreed to by all! And to carry out the council’s decision will require all! Is that clear?” Viceroy Chardonnay glared at Corvis and Small Talk in turn.

“Yes, Viceroy,” the pair mumbled, returning to their seats, but not without a parting glower.

“Good. Passions are running understandably high right now, so mayhap ‘twould be best for me to offer my own observations into this debate.” Though normally content to let the councilbats argue things out, he saw fit to take direct control here, and speaking for myself, I was very glad he did.

“First and foremost, your point is well taken, Shiraz, that before too long, both sides will come seeking our aid. So we must have our responses prepared before that, as well as contingencies readied for all eventualities, including potential military ones. And second, we do not yet know the Empire’s intentions towards us, and ‘tis hard to plan without that knowledge. Until then, methinks it prudent to mobilize our forces and be ready to repel an incursion from either side…”

His voice trailed off as a messenger mare entered through a roof window and landed before him, not bothering with the usual formalities of giving her dispatch to an orderly who would then ring a bell to read it aloud. She bowed low, apologizing profusely for the breach of protocol, but saying simply that her ‘message could not wait’, offering the Viceroy a scroll.

He read it, his expression going from surprised to worried to uncertain in the space of several seconds. Watching this, the rest of the gathering, myself included, noted his sudden change of demeanor and fell quiet, knowing that anything that disturbed our normally unflappable leader boded ill.

“My lord?” Shiraz called out. “What is it?”

The Viceroy carefully schooled his expression before speaking again. “‘Twould appear, my fellow councilbats, that the decision to take sides might be forced upon us far sooner than we would wish,” he began grimly.

“What do you mean?” Starry Skies asked for us all.

“I mean that I have just received word that Cloudsdale has been sighted over our northern border just west of Lake Luna, General. They have been attacked by the Gryphons, suffering severe casualties. Fleeing the Imperial advance, they are now requesting our aid and sanctuary within our lands…”

Thank you for sharing this, Viceroy. ‘Tis an excellent insight into the difficult questions and choices facing the Nightborne that first night of war, and a reminder to all that the thestrals were—and are—no more of a single mind about various matters than other ponies, doubly so facing such grave decisions as these.

For those disposed to think ill of the thestrals for actively considering whether to ally with Equestria’s adversaries, I would remind them that ultimately, they were responsible to their own citizens and borders first, and had to consider what was in their best interests before deciding how to act. Even those who advocated joining the Gryphon war against Equestria were doing so on that basis, not out of any desire for personal power or gain.

But the Nightborne were categorically not the only thestral race or faction in play. For the bat-ponies had their own internal schism that would play a prominent role in the events to come… as I believe you can all too readily attest, Barrel Rider?

—Firefly

Indeed, Captain. ‘Twas very interesting to hear matters from the Nightborne perspective laid out so concisely. It’s darkly humorous to think that even as our more numerous dark-hued cousins sought to break away from Equestria, ‘twould be my fate as messenger to trigger a Highborne seperatist revolt from within Thestralslovakia itself.

Sadly, my name is far less impressive than what one might expect from a stallion of my reputation: Barrel Rider. I’m not particularly tall or good-looking either, in case you were wondering.

Whilst my distant Highborne relations in Star City are named for the stars and cosmic wonders of the Twisting Nether, I was born in Gryphon Lands and spent my life on the road, moving caravans of trade goods all over the world with my family. As such, I was named for my habit of riding atop the barrels of goods stacked up on our cart as a young colt.

I’ve traveled Zebreca, Saddle Arabia, Mexicolt, and Aresia. I’ve even had dealings with the Avians and Maregolians. I’ve seen all manner of magic and heard the wisdom of many powerful beings, learned from the wisest of philosophers, and just plain old-fashioned crazies who nonetheless had a good point now and then. I can safely say that, with all due respect to the sincere beliefs of my orthodox kinfolk, my importance and magnificence isn’t on the level of a nebula, star, or planet — not even a dwarf planet!

—Barrel Rider
Chairbat of the Board of Governors
Central Bank of Thestralslovakia

You don’t give yourself enough credit, Barry. I find you quite impressive! Though, whilst I respect that you have a difference of opinion about our race and our mission in the world, surely you’re not going to make this all about you?

—High Priestess of the Stars, Juniper VII Neptune

I was getting to you, Your Radiance, I swear! Firefly asked for me to introduce myself and so I did. And as for you, I was saving the best for last.

—Barrel Rider

You’re such a sweetheart! I do hope you won’t make me look too bad for the part I played in my tale, for I was acting in what I thought to be the best interests of our race. Be that as it may, I leave the final word to you. I must monitor the cosmic energies of the Nether for such is my duty until the Stars deem fit to summon our people home.

—High Priestess of the Stars, Juniper VII Neptune

A House Divided

The Temple of Karabor
Star City
Thestralslovakia
September 3rd, 1139 AL (Anno Lunae)

In my introduction I presented myself as a business bat, a trader. And that’s still mostly true. But I’ve found over the years that what creatures really want is stuff they aren’t supposed to have: close-held information and contraband.

To put it plainly, I was a smuggler, an expediter, a fence. I’d given up on the life of a merchant once I’d reached stallionhood and went to work for a very different sort of family, though still of blood relation. In the service of the Honorable Lady Lacerae’s colony, I was posted to New Eagleland to help expedite grain and poppies from Equestria to help feed and… entertain the gryphon colonists.

Life was good and relatively easy compared to fencing gems out of Neighrobi, Zebreca which I had the misfortune of doing for some time. Too easy, in fact. The family decided ‘twas time to send me ‘home’, with an official sealed document of the Gryphon Empire to give to Star City’s High Priestess and sovereign ruler, one passed to me by an Imperial agent with the cover of a more reputable merchant.

A document that ‘twas certain to get me killed if ‘twas discovered in my possession.

‘Tis certain that was the least of my worries as I stood before the Great Temple of the Cosmos; a massive complex built of whitewashed stone and poplar topped by a great circular dome of stained glass etched with arcane symbols. The colors and symbols meant nothing in particular to me, being non-magical as I am. Only those of the Leucistic Order, those blessed from birth with unicorn horns, could influence the infinite powers of the Nether; ponies call them Thestralcorns.

I may not be a learned mage but I knew the huge pillar of glowing purple fog filtering in through the top of the dome wasn’t normal. I had a mental image of being fried by a death ray as soon as I stepped inside.

A blue-cloaked thestralcorn stallion cleared his throat delicately, pulling my attention away from the unnatural sight. “Sir Barry, inside please! Neptune isn’t in the habit of being kept waiting by the rabble. Say your peace and pray she finds you worth her time.” His expression told me he knew at least enough about me that he was praying for the death ray option, as he wouldn’t even give me eye contact.

At this point, methinks I really wasn’t in the mood for being talked down to by somebat I saw as a magical mutant. “I beg your pardon, habibi. It’s just you don’t see a place like this everyday, ya know?”

“Well you don’t, clearly!” The priest turned up his nose at me.

I grunted at him by way of reply and made to walk through the door, but I was stopped by a projected force field from the priest.

“Before entering, be warned that your unsavory deeds are known to us, Traveler. And for it, know that if you dare attempt to defile these sacred mysteries whilst you are here, you will never leave. Keep that in mind…” A compelling force then pushed me through the open door and slammed it behind me, leaving me in semi-darkness.

“Stuck-up mutant freak… Who did I tick off to end up having to come here?” I muttered to myself as my eyes instantly adjusted to the darkened room which, I could see clearly now, was an antechamber of sorts. Portraits of horned thestrals lined the walls; the High Priestesses who called the Temple their home. Opposite the door to the courtyard stood a table featuring a pair of elaborate brass candle holders lit in observation of certain holy days, I’d had it explained to me once. They held not one but multiple sticks, but I noted the wicks were pristine, having never been used.

Above the table, a huge painting of a beautiful and somehow unnerving pale thestral gazed imperiously down upon me, a smirk etched across her face. I recognized her as the first High Priestess, Juniper Tree; a psychotic witch — I know some are willing to excuse her for her intentions, but it’s true — who nearly got my entire race killed during the Lunar Rebellion in the name of preserving it for all eternity.

It struck me immediately how odd ‘twas to be inside of a small art gallery set in nearly pitch blackness. Combined with the chill in the air and the faces of so many austere, humorless horned faces looking down on me, it made the already confined space that much more oppressive.

I trudged forward, unwilling to prolong my discomfort any longer than was necessary.

I have to give the designers of the Temple credit. If ‘twasn’t for the length of carpet covering the way I was meant to walk, I might not have found the proper path for some time in the darkened chamber. The wall opened up on either side of the portrait of Juniper Tree into a single hallway lined with open doors on each side; the carpet splitting into two paths around the stone wall.

The temple interior, as best as I could tell, was designed for defense against an attacker as any creature coming through would be funneled through a blind hallway before facing the defenders. I marveled and shook my head at the architect’s paranoia, but couldn’t help but wonder if it was justified.

I heard a gentle sucking sound all around me and felt a rush of chilling air which seemed to pour from each doorway I passed, channeled into the hallway as the wooden supports above me groaned slightly. I felt panic rising in me as the air seemed to thin out ever more with each step. There were no other thestrals inside the temple with me to give me company, tell me everything was alright and explain to me why the gatekeeper outside had been such an arrogant goat.

I thought of going back out to look for him in a moment of desperation, as an arrogant goat was better than this! But I remembered my mission and pushed on. The hallway at this point was at least lit by torchlight but their flames sputtered and waved furtively onward the deeper inside the bowels of the ancient bastion I went.

I gave brief notice to the details of each individual room as I passed but saw many ancient scrolls, books, relics of various sorts, and more hallways leading to what I’d guessed were living quarters. My sense of unease grew at the sight of so much unoccupied space. Why in the name of Arcturus had seemingly everybat abandoned the holiest shrine in all of Highbornedom?

And then suddenly, I stopped. A wall of force pushed me away as I tried to reach the end of the hall.

The way is closed to you but be not afraid, wanderer. I flinched hard when a mare’s voice spoke, as if she were a whisper inside my mind.

“H-Hello?” I spoke aloud to the empty hall.

There’s no reason to fear, wanderer, for I am with you. The way is shut and it’s not safe to enter my chamber at this time. The kiss of the void is fatal to all who enter it. If you wish to observe my holy task, you may go up the stairs to your right and look inside from there… She spoke serenely, seemingly unconcerned by such small matters as her own health and well-being. I ask for merely a moment longer before we can speak properly. I’ll be waiting...

At that moment, I’d found myself unable to speak at all as my mouth had turned to sand. I looked towards the stairs and, taking a moment to gather myself, ascended to the room above.

What I found wasn’t a room but rather a large balcony designed for at least fifty thestral occupants. Behind the balcony, twelve torches lit the room which trembled at the magical presence that filled the entire temple; a clear glass dome covered me all-around like I was a ship in a bottle. I cried out in fear as I gazed up towards the roof of the massive dome and saw our moon, our stars and sun all in their proper place in the Summer Sky.

The perspective rotated around the center of the room where my host took court, standing on a glowing pink and purple crystal pillar. Her eyes were closed; her expression peaceful as a scarlet jet of magic from her unicorn-like horn penetrated the infinite blackness into a rotating, semi-translucent and roiling purple mass of what looked like magical energy. Her blonde mane and loose-fitting robes whipped furiously behind her as if she were caught in a high wind. I could see stars glimmering faintly behind the cloud leaving me even more confused as to my perspective of events.

You have come and seen with your own eyes the glory of our Cosmos. Tell me, my weary and wayward traveler, what is on your mind at this moment?

I watched in horror as the torches, each standing one alongside the other went out one by one. “That I should have stayed home!” I shouted as I trembled on the floor.

Her mirthful laughter filled my consciousness. You are afraid. That’s good! Every Highborne must learn their place in the order of existence. ‘Tis appointed for us to die just as the lesser races do. But our destiny as Highborne is to harness this vast emptiness. To gain wisdom and power from its ancient creative magicks. And once we’ve finally succeeded, to ensure our own ascension and that of our offspring.

‘Twas nothing I hadn’t heard before from other thestrals who followed the arcane and oft-indecipherable Highborne Orthodox faith, but to see such ideas demonstrated so graphically? Methinks ‘twas a wonder I hadn’t fainted yet!

It is to this end you’ve sought me out, unbeliever or not in our racial destiny. Such is the will of the Cosmos that every creature shall bear the message of its glorious truth… in one way or another! As she spoke, I could feel that awful emptiness around me, creeping slowly into my cage of glass and stone and tugging at my chest. I felt the pressure in my ears begin to build as her silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity until, quite unexpectedly, the vision of the stars began to fade, the pillar of scarlet fire separating itself from Juniper Neptune’s magical grasp, retreating up through the hole in the temple dome.

I felt welcome warmth against my membrane wings and turned around to see the torches had come back to life. All across Juniper’s inner sanctum, the glow of magic was replaced by the natural light of torches, though the vast pillar on which she stood still radiated powerfully with a violet hue. She opened her eyes, colorless save for her pupils and looked down on me, expressionless.

I swallowed hard and reached into my saddlebag. “R-right! To the issue at hoof.” It felt weird talking to some creature who wasn’t even in the same room as me, but as I’d just seen her effortlessly channel the Cosmos, it probably wasn’t an issue for her. I held up a scroll against the glass. “High Priestess, I have been sent by my benefactors in the Gryphon Empire with an offer of alliance. In short, they promise to guarantee our ancient claims to Thestralslovakia in exchange for our assistance in their war against Equestria!”

I felt a tugging on my entire body and my vision went black, followed by the sensation of being squeezed through someplace uncomfortably tight. When I could see again, I was floating high above the floor on the other side of the glass inside the chamber with her, held in her field of levitation. She seemingly took no notice of me or my screaming in terror as she casually read through the scroll I’d had in my possession before banishing the missive in a puff of smoke. “An emissary of the Gryphons… You’ve done well for yourself, Sir Barrel Rider! And for it, I shall offer you due respect!”

She gently placed me down next to her on the pillar in the center of the room. On the one hoof I wasn’t in danger of falling, on the other… I looked up at the powerful thestral who stood a foot taller than me at the withers, her delicate spiral horn still aglow with her violet aura. She nickered gently and smiled. “You look so tense, traveler! Be at ease—you are among your own kind here, and your offerings do please me. Is something bothering you?”

Well aside from being dragged around the reins, nearly asphyxiated to death, and scared within an inch of my life, there was the matter of impending war she was in no way reacting to but I decided not to press my luck. ’Tis rude in most cultures to press one’s host, I knew from long experience of many nations and cultures, and if that host be a priestess… “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting a happy meeting with you, Your Radiance.” I went on to explain my cold reception from the priest at the entrance of the inner temple.

Juniper gave a friendly laugh. “Be not offended. Hyperion is a strong and capable priest—a powerful magus, loyal to me and steadfast in his duty. If he weren’t a stallion, I’d consider him for succession when I’m one day called by the heavenly host to ascend to the stars.”

I was about to shake my head but caught myself. I’d heard tales of some of the High Priestesses ascending into the heavens after being called home by our Cosmic Overlords, but no solid evidence of such feats existed. In any case, the Ascended made no attempt to return home after leaving, making me suspect the legend was conceived as a way of adding legitimacy to the priestly class.

“If I had one complaint about him, he’s a bit slow to accept travelers such as yourself into our colony,” Juniper continued, leaving me to my thoughts. “He mistrusts the Highborne who’ve gone off to live among other creatures and assimilated to their culture. I disagree with his rather… hardline stance but I respect his views just as I respect yours, Barrel Rider.” She gave me a knowing wink.

I winced sharply. “My views, Priestess?”

Juniper gave me a look both sly and apologetic. “Yours is not a difficult mind to read, I’m afraid…”

“Oof…” I grinned back at her sheepishly. “Well, you’re not the first to tell me that!”

Juniper shook her head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Tell me, Barry. May I call you Barry?”

I nodded in the affirmative—for what else could I say?

Her smile gave way to a look of intense interest. “You know the gryphons better than just about anyone living in Star City. You’ve lived long enough among them to gain their trust. As an emissary of the Gryphon Empire and potential future ally, what do you make of them as a race?”

I’d rehearsed this scenario in my mind and was more comfortable in this moment than I’d been at any point since entering the Inner Temple. “The Gryphons are strong and proud, well versed in warfare and in a position to easily overpower all resistance that stand in their way from ponies and Nightborne alike. As we speak, an army a quarter of a million strong prepare to march on Equestria the likes of which no creature has ever seen. They believe that ‘tis their fate to rule over this continent just as we believe ‘tis our fate to rule all of Thestralslovakia.”

“Curious then they do not simply crush us along with our lesser pony brethren. But they have sent you all this way to tell us of their impending attack. Such information doesn’t come cheap.” Juniper held up a hoof for silence and took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Their invitation to help us was written in very flattering prose. They say all the right things, but I don’t believe for a moment that the gryphons mean any of it given their hegemonic ambitions. ‘Tis no doubt in my mind they would turn on us once Equestria is under their wings,” she mused idly, though there was no hint of anger or fear in her voice at such a future betrayal.

“Then… we are to decline their offer?” I asked cautiously, my heart stopping for a moment, fearful for what that meant for me as their erstwhile ambassador.

To my surprise and relief, she smiled warmly at me. “Not at all. For even such a brutish race as theirs is practical when it comes to using basic tools. So long as our race offers something important to the gryphons they cannot possess themselves, then ‘tis certain we have nothing to fear from them.” Juniper lit her horn, causing the crystal pillar to react by glowing brighter. “If you think about it, that is why you are standing before me today.”

I wasn’t sure I did as I arched an eyebrow at her. “But, Your Radiance, I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me. I’m not magical and I’m not convinced that any of what you teach is actually true. Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but my many travels have taught me that our world is full of magic and magical creatures, of which you are but one of many.” I frowned, looking down at her hooves to avoid meeting her glance, feeling guilty for admitting my thoughts to this surprisingly sweet-natured mare responsible for keeping the faith of so many. “You flatter me, but in truth, there is nothing remotely special about me. I’m nothing more than just another thestral among many.”

She lifted my head with her crystal-shoed hoof and gazed into my eyes. I’d felt a tinge of unease looking upon her pale coat, unicorn horn and unnatural height, but at that moment, as I beheld her peaceful and serene features, she’d seemed less a living weapon created by dark magic and more the leader of the Highborne race she’d been chosen to be.

“My dear Barrel Rider, your lack of faith is the only thing holding you back from greater understanding. What I will reiterate for you at this point is that the cosmos can and will use any creature it chooses to demonstrate the truth to all things, even an unbeliever or the heathens of the East.” She released me from her grip, leaving the spot on my face she touched feeling strangely lonely afterwards.

“As it pleases you, Your Radiance.” I bowed my head and extended my wings out to my side in a show of contrition. “Then with your permission, I shall return with word of our acceptance to the gryphons?”

“I grant it. And for it, we may consider our business for today completed. I will have a formal response to the Gryphon offer prepared by this evening, so you may rest today and then set out with it again at dusk. But tarry not in your task. I may have further need of you very soon.”

The High Priestess then launched a beam of magical energy into the sky which burst into an explosion of light like a Romane candle. “Events have been set in motion which will convince even a skeptic such as yourself of our special destiny. And when they are done, ‘tis our sacred Highborne race—and not the gryphons or Nightborne—who will become the true sovereigns of this land.”

I would believe it when I saw it, but thought it best not to voice that sentiment out loud.

My sincerest thanks to both of you. ‘Twas an excellent introduction to both sides of the Nightborne/Highborne thestral divide, and one that would figure quite prominently in the weeks and months ahead.

It had been my intention to end this chapter here, but I recently received a letter from a very unlikely source, asking for their story to be heard in this tale as well. After due consideration, and a consult with the Equestrian Intelligence Service, I have decided to do so, for there is no denying their contributions to this conflict.

Indeed, Equestria owes their very existence to this secretive race, for without their warning, ‘tis certain we would have been crushed by the full-strength Imperial war machine in a matter of weeks.

—Firefly

Salutations, readers. My name is Lycovenato, but I believe most Equestrians would remember me by my pony name, Bramble Tracker.

I answer to both, though as my late father would always tell me, “A name means nothing on the battlefield.” ‘Tis a statement that, as grim as it sounds, cannot be more true in the heat of conflict. Whether officers or enlisted, whether Talons or Knights… ‘tis certain your identity only holds weight to those who know the face behind the helmet and bloodstains, and when you’re fighting for your life, one does not usually have the luxury to stop and study their foe when parrying a strike or planting a blade in a stomach.

This saying holds an even greater meaning for my kind. For you see, dear readers, I am a changeling. One of the few who not only sided with Equestria during the conflict, but fought for her directly in the guise of a pony. ‘Twas not an easy feat to maintain my cover for all those years, but I did so.

As those in my profession will oft agree, a good disguise is one that not only looks convincing, but is expressed in a convincing manner. Whenever a changeling dons the face of a pony, gryphon, or another creature, we must not only look like, but become that creature. We must take on that creature’s story and personality. To fail at this risks suspicion, and suspicion can lead to capture or worse.

However, in this lies great danger. For stay disguised long enough, and one might find themselves forgetting who they are, becoming lost in their alternate identity. On the battlefield, this is doubly difficult for my kind, for you can succumb to the violence and become the very thing you had vowed to fight against, forget the purpose of you risking your life in the first place…

But, forgive me, I digress. With your indulgence, Captain, I shall start my story now, properly…

—First Sergeant Lycovenato “Bramble Tracker” (ret.)
Lepidoptes Hive Intelligence Division
Reconnaissance and Espionage Operations
(Formerly) Squad leader, 3rd Pathfinder Battalion, Equestrian Army

First, let me start by saying that I had yet to see my twenty-fifth winter when the war broke out between Equestria and the Gryphon Empire.

At the time, I was living in a humble village just a day’s march north of the Imperial capital of Mosclaw, working as a hunter and fisherbeing to make ends meet.

Yes, Changelings will hunt, given our predatory past. I have also been given permission from my hive’s leading authorities to state that our diet is not unlike those of omnivores, as although we cannot survive without love, it alone is not sufficient to our bodies’ needs; we require certain other nutrients no less than any other organic being. I was actually born in Equestria, and had spent most of my youth in the pony lands. My mother died from illness shortly after my birth, however, so I have no strong memories of her and only the stories my father would share with me.

I was told she was a spy by trade, working for the Lepidoptes Hive, and had met my father when they were both young. My father was a soldier and scout who had spent most of his life moving from town to town, never staying in one place for very long until he and my mother married. With my mother’s death, my father had taken it upon himself to teach me all he knew about the lands he visited in his younger days, and he showed me how to be self-sufficient.

One of the first things I learned rather quickly was how to hunt and move silently under my father’s tutelage. He taught me methods for tracking prey, how to skin animals to make hides, and how to properly cook them, both for myself and for possibly trading with the local villagers. He also taught me the value of maintaining a good cover. He taught me how to avoid detection by blending in. For almost twenty years we were the only family we had, and once I was old enough to make the journey with him, we both set out for the Gryphon Empire, where hunting was more respected and we could better apply our skills for money and other necessities.

We rarely crossed paths with other changelings, more often than not they were agents of the queen who wished to speak with my father and exchange information. Our hive had long taken the stance of a peaceful, secretive existence among the world’s other races, so those who served as agents, like my mother and father, were often required to spend years, if not most of their lives, separated from the hive whilst gathering intelligence and knowledge to share.

Some had even taken to calling changelings such as my parents “independents”, though this term is perhaps not the most accurate. Ultimately, they served the Lepidoptes Hive, more or less exclusively to be exact. The same, methinks, could be said for me.

Whilst my father was mostly retired from active service, he still served in a limited capacity, providing information and speaking to the occasional changeling that would seek him out. So, naturally, he taught me what he had learned in his years as a soldier as well. To this day, I do not know if he was attempting to groom me into a potential agent for my hive, but regardless, I enjoyed my time growing up under his care.

Unfortunately, my father fell ill as well during an especially harsh winter, and as the love he needed was hard to find in a winter wasteland, he ended up dying in his sleep. I spent the next five years alone, living off of what the land provided and making ends meet. I rarely spoke to the other gryphons in my village, and I suppose they didn’t mind my reclusiveness in turn. ‘Twas lonesome, true, but ‘twas also what I was familiar with.

That all changed, however, when I chanced upon meeting a lovely changeling female by the name of Plexippa Lepidoptes. At the time, the gravity of such a name was unknown to me, though I blame my father for this lack of knowledge. Whilst he was gifted in many things, he lacked the common sense in teaching me the names of the Hive’s royal family line.

A few gestures and hidden signals quickly brought to light that she was not just a changeling, but an important one who would forever change my life.

Try Everything

She was, by all accounts, a rather unassuming female, albeit with a confident demeanor and an athletic build for one her size that spoke of rigorous training. Whilst she lacked the air of a warrior, I could tell she was someone who could defend herself if the need arose.

I locked the door to my small cabin and pulled the drapes across my windows to keep the odd onlooker from listening in—one could never be too careful in Gryphon lands, where the Office of Owls had an uncanny ability to surveil their own subjects and find out things they didn’t want others to know. After we both shed our gryphon disguises, I probed the ambient magic of the cabin and felt reassurance in the privacy wards that crossed my horn’s senses.

“We are free to speak, now,” I began with a nod. “It’s rare to see a member of my hive out here, so I imagine you must be here to see me for something of import?” I made my way to my kitchen space and placed a dry log into the cooling embers of my wood burning stove. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of indulgences, but I’ll have a pot of Zebrican coffee boiling in a bit if you want. Shouldn’t take too long, the stove is still warm from breakfast this morning.”

“Coffee?” she echoed, her ears perking up in interest. “However did you find coffee this far from the zebra lands?”

I nodded. “It’s a dark roast that I was gifted from a hive traveler that recently returned from Zebrica about two months ago. The coffee is still fresh thanks to some preservation magic.” I looked over my shoulder to her, “You said that you’re here on Queen Scylla’s behalf?”

She gave a nod whilst taking a seat on a log chair, taking a moment to get comfortable before speaking, “Yes, my mother informed me that your parents were both gifted agents in their time. Your mother served as a spy whilst your father once served as a soldier in my mother’s army before taking on a less demanding role as an agent.”

I blinked, the kettle hovering in my magic as I slowly turned to face her. “I… forgive me, I must have misheard you. Did you say ‘your mother’s army’?” I set down the kettle and turned to face her fully.

She simply tilted her head to the side and gave me a small smile. “Oh? I apologize; I’ve been told I can be rather quiet at times when I first meet new folks.”

I narrowed my eyes a little. She gave off genuine honesty, curiosity, and… amusement?

“Is something wrong, Lycovenato?” she asked, her smile growing a bit as she recognized my confusion.

“You must be joking, lest you’re implying you’re the daughter of the queen, which would be ludicrous. ‘Tis certain no queen would ever let a member of the royal family go off into the gryphon countryside without an escort.” I frowned as she let out a snicker. “I’m sorry, but what is so funny?”

“Forgive me,” she began, raising a placating hoof as my frown deepened, “my mother had warned me that you might not be too used to other changelings, living in such a remote area of the Empire, but I had no idea you were unaware of who I am.” She giggled a bit when I quirked an eyeridge. “Allow me to introduce myself a bit more formally then: I am Plexippa Lepidoptes, fifteenth daughter of Her Majesty, Scylla Lepidoptes IV.” With that, she bowed low in royal greeting.

“I see…” I studied her closely, looking for any hint of deceit. No tension in the shoulders. Ears upright, alert, and facing forward. She was smiling in a manner that reached her eyes, which were currently meeting my own, leaving me to reach one rather disquieting conclusion. “Suppose I were to believe this. Then perchance you wouldst answer why Her Majesty sees fit to send her daughter out alone into a clearly dangerous land, just to speak to the son of two retired changeling agents who are one with the World Soul and Hive Mother again?”

“It does seem strange, doesn’t it?” she replied with another laugh. “My mother was against me becoming a scout for the hive at first, but I managed to convince her with the help of my elder sister and brother.” She turned her attention to a saddlebag she had been carrying. With a flare of her horn, a scroll was pulled out. She channeled some magic into the rolled sheet of parchment, which gave off a faint blue hue of its own before she unfurled it.

“A concealment spell?” I said aloud, recognizing the magic she had used.

“Indeed,” she confirmed with a nod. “‘Twould be an issue were a curious gryphon Talon or, Hive Mother forbid, a member of the Office of Owls, to learn of our plans, so proper measures must be taken.” She hoofed the scroll to me as she added, “Any who do not know the spell would have only read some poorly written poetry authored by a young Talon eagless stationed in the capital and bored out of her mind, yearning for some dashing tiercel to dominate her in a round and sweep her away from a life of monotony and eventless patrolling.”

“...truly?” I couldn’t help but raise an eyeridge.

“Well, I’ve mostly based it on my time as a scout patrolling the hive’s borders, if I’m to be honest.” She puffed out her chest as she went on, “In a few months I shall be given an assignment in the capital, however! That will no doubt be far more exciting! Can you imagine? I may even be able to learn some secrets of the Owls, or perhaps uncover some conspiracy to assassinate the Empress!” She clopped her forehooves together as she giggled, the gravity of her new task or the scenario she spun lost on her. “Truly there is excitement in store for me when I am stationed in Mosclaw! Methinks anything is better than patrolling the dull halls of our hive!”

“A true spy never wishes for excitement in their line of work. Excitement can cause issues,” I noted as I opened up the scroll, only to catch myself. “Forgive me, I… I mean no disrespect, Your Highness, but that—”

“Oh, come now, don’t digress to formalities now,” she frowned for the first time since arriving. “I signed on as a scout to escape that. Out here, I am not a princess. So please, simply call me Plexippa.”

“...very well, Plexippa.” I cleared my throat. “As I was saying, a true spy would wish to avoid any chaos or excitement in their line of work. Excitement can lead to rash decision-making, and rash decisions can lead to an Owl interrogation or a Raven blade slashing open your throat.”

“Bah, you’re as stuffy as my Sergeant was back in training,” she waved away my warning dismissively with a hoof. “I am well aware of the risks, I’ll have you know. You cannot blame me for wanting some excitement and thrills in my life after being coddled so long by mother and sequestered within the halls of her hive, can you?”

My eyeridge raised even higher. “I tend to enjoy calm and quiet, personally. It’s harder to hunt when it’s loud.”

Her ears perked in turn. “Oh? You hunt?”

I nodded. “Mostly for myself, but I do some trading in town when game is more plentiful. Mostly grouse, pheasant, and the occasional flying boar if I’m lucky. On rare occasions I might take down a young roc or black bear.”

Her eyes lit up in a manner I would come to enjoy in the weeks to come as she leaned forward and asked, “Please, will you show me how you hunt?”

Plexippa lived with me for the next three months whilst awaiting further orders from Her Majesty via encrypted crystal communications.

For those of you curious, I am afraid I am not at liberty to divulge the contents of the scroll that she had given me, but methinks its content is a moot point, as you shall learn shortly.

I will admit, Plexippa’s company was refreshing and, if I may be allowed to wax poetic, breathed life into my monotonous and isolated existence. Before her, there was mostly grays and little else. Her soul splashed color that I had forgotten about onto my life, and helped me see the world in a new way. Where once it had been routine, ‘twas now spontaneous and passionate.

She sought out experiences, and wished to learn new things. She was at times reckless in her desire for fun, but Hive Mother preserve me, she quickly wormed her way into my heart. She was but a few moons older than I, and was the first changeling around my age that I had ever befriended. Methinks the same was true for her as well, for in time we had become… close.

Your Majesty, should you read this, know that I had grown to love your daughter in our short time together. She had a heart that was as vast as any ocean and a smile that was brighter than the sun itself. The Hive Mother truly loved her, for how else could one so beautiful be made so compassionate and willing to share her love with those around her?

It may have been due to living among gryphons so long, who are not as prone to sharing their emotions and opening themselves up, but it was all I could do to not be overwhelmed by her personality during our first weeks together. I know she had wrote to you about… our plans, but I still feel the desire to tell you as such now as well.

In the days before she left for her assignment in Mosclaw, we had made a promise that, after her mission was complete, she would return and we would announce our intent to marry each other before you, Your Majesty. I do not know if we were rushing things, but we were young and in love. Love does as it pleases, and ‘twould seem it had decided to entwine us both in its snare.

Sadly, as those of you who read the previous volume are likely aware, Plexippa would not return to me… or return to the hive, for that matter. Methinks her life ‘twas as brief as ‘twas bright, and to this day I feel like a part of me died that fateful August night.

A New Calling

Northeast of Mosclaw
Location Undisclosed
September 4th, 1139 AC (Year 305 of of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
0335 hours

I had awoken to the dark interior of my cabin and the sound of knocking on my door, light but urgent in tone. I took a moment to shake off the sleep before listening to the knocking again. A cadence of slow and rapid beats that I immediately recognized as the Lepidoptes Hive’s signal of military urgency reached my ears, and I was on my hooves and unlatching the door in seconds.

I was greeted by two stern looking gryphon hunters dressed in ragged furs. My cover’s eagle eyes studied them for several long moments. “Perchance I may ask why you are knocking at my door so damned early for?” My gryphon growl was not entirely forced.

“Apologies, sir, but we’ve received word of a timberwolf pack prowling the area and causing problems for some of the surrounding villages. We were hoping to speak with you about the forests nearby before we go out to hunt down the beasts. Some of the townsfolk suggested we seek you out.”

I shall merely state at this point that several gestures and a signal or three indicated they were members of the Lepidoptes Hive’s spy network, and that they had an urgent matter to discuss with me.

Grumbling in annoyance, I opened the door. “Very well. Then kindly come inside before it gets cold in here.”

As soon as they were inside and the door was latched, we dropped our disguises, revealing two changelings in light armor and wielding curved blades and longbows. I blinked in surprise as I noticed the faint, violet sheen to their barding, and immediately recognized their meaning. “Well. ‘Tis not everyday I’m paid a visit by the hive’s Silencers,” I noted idly, suddenly wondering if ‘twas myself they were here to silence.

Silencers were the hive’s elite warriors and assassins, trained to kill silently and efficiently. If rumors are to be believed, they are capable of taking on Ravens and Black Lances on a somewhat even playing field… though ‘tis certain an even playing field is far from ideal for any who specialize in assasination. Normally one would be uneasy, but I quickly realized that there was no intent of harm from them, given they would have slain me the instant the door was closed otherwise. So either they were passing through and knew of my cabin as a safe haven… or had important news that could only be trusted by the best of the best.

“Good evening, Lyconvenato. Unfortunately, our reasons for visiting here so late are far from pleasant, but… ‘twas Her Majesty’s request to inform you of the recent events.”

“Recent events…?” I echoed, sensing the slightest ripple of unease in the elite assassin’s emotions. It gave me worry, for if something was bad enough to make a trained killer upset… how would I deal with this news?

The second assassin spoke up in reply, “‘Tis our duty to inform you that Princess Plexippa Lepidoptes died whilst in Equestrian lands. We learned this but hours ago thanks to our informants in the Equestrian military… though it had happened a few days prior before last month’s end. ‘Twould seem she… accomplished her mission of procuring gryphon plans and bringing them to pony hooves, but ‘twould also seem it came at the cost of her life. The ponies report she had been gravely wounded by her gryphon pursuers; we believe them to be Ravens.”

He took a moment to let me take in the news. It may have been seconds, it may have been a dozen minutes, perchance even an hour. I do not know, but eventually I nodded in understanding, even if I wasn’t entirely sure I could believe it, finding myself suddenly shaky, sitting back on my haunches heavily and releasing a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

When I finally met his gaze again, he continued, “Her Majesty is making preparations for the Hive to assist Equestria and is spreading the word throughout her spy network. She was aware of your connection to her daughter, and felt it important to tell you. You were also among our list of contacts, since you’ve lived in both Equestria and the Empire throughout your life.”

‘Twas all I could do at that point to process what he had said. I was staring into the floor of my cabin, my mind still trying and failing to process the news of my beloved’s death whilst a cold pit formed in my chest.

“I… see…” Was all I could say in response to this. My voice was numb and my features impassive, but my insides were a cacophony of emotions that any changeling could sense.

Recognizing this, the two Silencers glanced at each other before speaking again. “We are aware this is… difficult news for you. We are also aware that you have no official position in the military and are serving only as an agent and contact for the hive, but Her Majesty has an assignment that she believes may suit you… if you believe yourself to be capable,” the first agent continued, his tone mercifully gentle.

“I’m afraid that even at this early date, the war is off to a rough start for Equestria. Her border defenses have been shattered and the entire population of Canterlot is more or less being held hostage by the Kalator dragon clan, so Princess Celestia is unable to aid her army without sacrificing her capital and all within it in the process.”

At this point, I knew not what this had to do with me, and did not much care, my mind still reeling. For if Plexippa was truly dead, then what purpose was there for me now?

I had no one left.

Nevertheless, the elite assassins went on. “‘Tis our hope we can get a team in to smuggle supplies, although ‘twill take considerable time. There’s supposedly an underground cavern that connects to the older parts of Canterlot Castle, but our intelligence is uncertain on this.” The second Silencer said with a grimace. “From what we can gather, Princess Plexippa forced the gryphons to push their invasion forward before they were ready, lest they have Equestria waiting to counter them.

“And thus, the ponies barely had time to prepare any amount of defense. Even forced to launch early, the Empire’s Prelate, Salvio Gaius, planned this invasion well. He has caught most of Equestria flat-hooved and has Diamond Dogs and a powerful dragon clan backing him, even with half his army not yet arrived in theatre.”

All this was only distantly processed by me; at that moment, all I could think to ask was: “And… what does this have to do with me?”

The two exchanged another look before one of them dug out a scroll from between the folds of their barding. “Your previous instructions given to you by Her Highness, Princess Plexippa, are no longer in effect. Consider these your new orders, but only if you feel you are capable of carrying them out. Queen Scylla has made it clear she wishes not to throw lives so carelessly into this conflict when our intelligence is wanting.”

I unfurled the document, which bore the Royal Crest of Lepidoptes, and read it over silently.

Greetings Lycovenato, Son of Odonaetta and Clavulus,

I am saddened that my first time writing to you was because of such a loss in our mutual lives.

I first wish to extend my deepest sympathies to you, my dear changeling. I am well aware of my daughter’s wishes to marry you, and whilst I have yet to meet you myself, my beloved Plexippa had told me nothing but wonderful things about you in the few months she was living with you.

Know that whilst I grieve for the loss of my daughter, I understand that you too are in pain right now as well. Plexippa clearly saw something in you that she loved, and I cannot help but trust her.

However, you will have to forgive me; time is of the essence, and grieving will have to wait, at least for now. By now you are no doubt aware of the war Equestria faces. Given the current situation and the conflict, I believe a task you are suited for has come to mind.

Your knowledge of Equestria, as well as the Empire, might very well help us aid in this war between the ponies and gryphons—a war that, for the sake of all Hives, the ponies must win. Whilst we do have the resources to spare for Equestria, unless we can properly navigate the current chaos whilst remaining undetected, the agents of the Hive risk sharing the same fate as my daughter, except they will likely be captured or slain before accomplishing anything.

We have confirmed that Equestrian Intelligence and Princess Celestia herself are aware of our desire to help, but I’m afraid that the number of ponies who know of us at present is small. As such, the risk of being seen as spies working for Equestria’s enemies is quite high. That is where you hopefully can assist.

For the sake of my lost daughter, I would request that you be among those who serve as my eyes and ears within Equestria, taking the guise of a pony or any other form necessary in order to both gather and pass intelligence, and even intervene directly in the conflict when called for.

I realize this will put you in grave danger, but whilst you have had no formal military training, what Pleixippa told me of your skills is nothing short of what I would expect of any scout. She has also commended your prowess with a bow, saying ‘tis on par with that of our best archers.

I know you are grieving, and I will not make this an order, but your assistance would be welcome and seen as homage to my daughter’s memory and mission. If you believe yourself capable of traveling to Equestria and providing the Hive—and Equestria itself—with much needed information and intelligence, then my agents will escort you to the main Hive where we will make an assessment on your abilities and see if you truly are prepared for this task.

If not, I wish you well, but please understand that I can no longer assist you should you need it, for all my resources must now be devoted to Equestria’s survival whilst simultaneously keeping our activities secret from the Office of Owls.

May we speak again, Lycovenato, and may the Hive Mother guide us all in these dark days ahead.

There was no physical signature, but the faint magical trace that ran across the scroll was unmistakable. Every changeling is able to recognize the magic of their queen, regardless of whether they have met her or not, and Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV was no exception.

As I looked up from the letter to the two Silencers before me, a corner of the paper caught fire, a verdant flame of unnatural cause. I dropped it as the fire quickly spread across the scroll, eating away at it before it even touched the ground, leaving only a few smoldering ashes at my hooves.

“My apologies,” the first Silencer stated, the glow of his horn fading, “but the Office of Owls knows we stole their war plans and their agents are searching for us. Thus, we can leave no evidence of our activities.”

Understandable, and expected as far as the elite of Her Majesty’s military go. I gave a nod and looked to them both for a moment. “So… for the sake of her daughter, Her Majesty wishes for me to travel to Equestria and help the Lepidoptes Hive assist Celestia in the war,” I said, though ‘twas more a statement than a question. For I had already made up my mind, and it must have shown on my face.

The Silencers both shared a ghost of a smirk before the first replied, “So you’ll come with us, then?”

Before replying, I looked to my barren cabin. It had been my home for over a decade… but now, it carried the faintest echoes of her. What had once been solitude had become a suffocating prison, nothing more than an endless reminder of what I had lost without ever fully gaining it. And for it, I found that more than anything, I wished to be gone from the place.

“Yes. For the sake of my beloved and my own wounded heart, I will answer my Queen’s call. Allow me to pack some essentials and I’ll be ready,” I answered, and within a few minutes, I was exiting the cabin with my escort for the final time.

Mosclaw, and then Equestria, awaited me.

With apologies, Captain, I shall have to leave my story there for now. I’m trying to not let the emotions from recalling such events brought forth by the memory crystals overwhelm me; ‘twould seem even after all these years, some of the wounds I suffered never healed entirely.

Whilst heroes are often born in the midst of battle, I do not agree that there is anything glorious about war itself. Like you, I have seen the horrors of it firsthoof, and I can only pray to whatever gods may hear me that our world never experiences another conflict such as that between Equestria and the Empire again. Too many lives were lost, many belonging to my hive. In the end though, the war ended, and things have taken a turn for the better because of it.

Still… I often find myself, in the small hours of the night, seeing the faces of those I failed to save and those I had taken the lives of. I can only imagine that many more who fought that terrible war experience something similar. ‘Tis the sad and ugly truth of war; that victory requires an enemy to be broken, and I can say with confidence that there are many, many ways to break an enemy.

I shall return the quill to you for now, Captain Firefly. If you find this to your liking, my story shall continue later, once I have managed to better collect my thoughts and find a way to put what happened during those bloody times onto paper. Thank you for allowing me a place to share my words, and be assured future entries will find their way into your hooves.

And try as they might, be assured that no, your EIS will not be able to trace them. With apologies to them, they are quite good, but we are simply better as stealth is our way of life.

—First Sergeant Lycovenato “Bramble Tracker” (ret.)

Thank you for sharing, old friends and new. I did, in fact, meet First Sergeant Bramble Tracker twice in the course of the conflict, having nary a clue who he actually was! As both the thestrals and changelings would all too swiftly get swept up in the maelstrom of war, ‘tis certain that I will be calling upon you all later, and before too long.

‘Tis often been said, and methinks not without good reason, that the ponies and gryphons are but two sides of the same coin. Herbivore and carnivore, predator and prey; peace-loving and warlike. But the lesson that neither of us fully learned until war’s end and perchance even after was that we were not, in fact, destined to conflict with, but complement each other.

Indeed, methinks if there is any lesson I took from the war and its aftermath, ‘tis that the nature of Harmony is not peace, but balance. Balance between the two sides and races that couldn’t be more different, but in the end, needed each other to be complete and help each other to reach their full potential.

And yet, that fact holds not just for us. ‘Twas ultimately the same for the ponies and thestrals with their day/night dichotomy. The strength of Equestria itself comes from the balance of three tribes, with the Princess herself as their avatar, and it also holds true for the thestrals with the Highborne/Nightborne rivalry.

And that, dear readers, is ultimately what made the old order untenable—not just for the gryphons and the ponies, but for the ponies and the thestrals, the Highborne and Nightborne, who all sought to supplant each other whilst not understanding that ultimately, they needed each other. Far too many fell in this conflict to learn that lesson, and, as the recent plot to restore the Empire shows, far too many still haven’t, seeking a false glory or imagined utopia that never actually existed.

But this, too, is why warriors will forever be needed; to guard and preserve that hard-won peace and knowledge from those would refuse to heed the lessons of the past. And to answer a question that was posed to me recently, that is why I continue to train and prepare the next generation of soldiers on both sides to ensure that they will be ready when—and not if—the need for warriors arises again.

—Firefly

“Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.” —Thomas Jefferson

Author's Note

Two years to the day after the story launches, and 80 years to the day after the start of WWII (which conflict inspired this story and one it will, at times, reference) it continues with this worldbuilding chapter. It's been a fun story to work on for the most part, though I won't lie and say I've enjoyed all the effort it takes to make some of the graphics. But the end result is definitely worth it! I truly believe I've made something special here.

With the help of my prereaders and now, guest authors, that is! AJ_Aficionado and Denim_Blue both wrote a third or more of this chapter, penning the Highborne and Changeling parts of it. And for it, they—along with their characters—will both be heard from going forward to tell their sides of the story. Thanks goes as well to occasional contributer Leo Archon and prereader Silentwoodfire.

This is hopefully a worthy entry in the canon, and allows two of my best friends and fellow authors to incorporate their own thestral/changeling headcanon into it as well. So don't be surprised if they answer comments as well as me here!

PS: Those of you who haven’t done so already are invited to check out my latest story:

EThe Best and The Worst

MLP: FiM

Dark

Drama

Mystery

Twilight Sparkle has seen some of the best of humanity during her visits to Earth. Now it is time she sees some of the worst...

Crossover

Alt. Universe

Twilight

Celestia

Firesight · 16k words  ·  121  7 · 2.9k views

Inspired by the HBO series Chernobyl, it asks the following questions: what would happen if Celestia took Twilight to the site of the worst nuclear accident in history without telling her why or what happened there, wanting her to solve the mystery of what happened there based on available evidence? Why would she do this? And what lessons would she want Twilight to learn?

For what lessons could possibly be taken from such an awful place and accident that reflect well on humanity? It may sound like an odd idea, but I made it work and it’s been well-received. Give it a read if you haven’t already!

Rally and Recover: 3 - Celestial War Proclamation

To all Equestrian subjects and soldiers, and to every mare and stallion, no matter their race or station:

‘Tis with the greatest of sorrow and equally great anger that I must confirm that Equestria is now at war. On dawn of September 1st, with only the barest of notice given, the Gryphon Empire launched an unprovoked invasion of our lands, with the stated goal to depose your Princess and destroy our way of life.

‘Tis with regret I must also report that their initial invasion has met with some success. They have already forced back many of our frontier forces and shown no quarter in countless engagements, willing to slaughter to the last pony those who resist them despite their guarantees of mercy and good treatment to civilian and soldier alike.

They have even enlisted the aid of the Diamond Dogs and the merciless Dragon Lord Kalator, whose clan has lowered themselves to besiege Canterlot on the Empire’s behalf, bribed by empty promises of rare riches and supposed revenge. ‘Tis true that they have trapped me here, rendering me unable to aid our armies, able only to protect the Capital.

My ponies, I will not mince words. Our foes are ruthless and numerous. They are skilled and determined. They even wield terrible new weapons we have never seen before, and shown an appalling willingness to both use and abuse them in pursuit of their dishonorable ends.

But they are not unstoppable. We have faced their ilk before and have always triumphed. Over the long history of our great nation, we have fought and vanquished the Spursians, the Overmare, and even the mighty Crystal Empire. We have defeated dragons and tamed Ursas; we have brought down evil Kings and magical beings, triumphed over all adversaries from Sombra to Tirek. For all their power and for all their soldiers, they could not conquer us. And ‘tis certain that in the end, neither will the Gryphons.

To all who watch from afar and believe the Imperial fiction that this invasion is somehow justified, make no mistake: This is a war of aggression and conquest, little more than an attempt to replace Equestrian primacy on our continent with their own. I would not give their war declaration or ludicrous list of grievances the dignity of a response, except to note the following:

For over a century, we have tolerated the presence of the Empire and their colonies on this continent despite the dozens of deaths they inflicted on our border settlements every year.

For over a century, we have offered the Empire friendship and treaties with generous terms, offered them trade and a demilitarized border only to be ignored.

For over a century, we have shown the greatest of restraint in the face of numerous provocations, only engaging in retaliation as a last resort.

And for over a century they have refused all our entreaties out of envy or foalish pride, believing a race of herbivores beneath them; that the civilization we have forged is somehow an affront to their very existence.

The time for talk is over. The time for diplomacy has passed. There will be no negotiations. There will be no surrender. I call now upon all ponies to rise up in Equestria’s name and fight the invaders; to show them the power of friendship and harmony when wielded in our beloved nation’s defense.

To our subjects, I call upon you to show the tribal unity that defeated the Windigos and turned hate into harmony, to enlist or otherwise support the war effort however you can.

To our soldiers, I call upon you to stand fast in the face of gryphon aggression; to show the courage of Commander Hurricane, the skill of Starswirl, and the strength of Ironheart.

To our friends and allies, and even to neutral powers who are unsure, we call upon you to aid us in our struggle, for Equestria will not be the last target of an aggressive Gryphon Empire.

To all my beloved and precious ponies, I call upon you to fight for your friends, for your families, and for friendship itself.

And to our enemies, I advise you to abandon this war quickly, or you will yet face my fury when I break free of your evil and cruel trap.

To all reading, know I am a peaceful pony by nature; I take no pleasure in death or killing. But I am well-versed in military affairs; be assured that I will find a way to save my ponies and my nation.

To the Imperial leadership, you have made a grave mistake, and be also assured that although you may have started this conflict, that Equestria will finish it.

Know that for your innumerable crimes, for your deception, for your dishonorable and ruthless tactics, and for the lives of my ponies you have taken, my wrath will be terrible and I will do my utmost to crush your armies utterly. And our terms of peace will be both simple and brutal:

The total destruction of the Gryphon Empire and expulsion of her colonies from this continent.

Signed,

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria

Done this day of September 2nd in Canterlot, By order of the Solar Crown and by acclaim of the Equestrian High Council, witnessed by the military service heads and attested to by the duly elected representatives of the United Pony Tribes,

For our lands,
For our families,
For our friends,
For our way of life,
And for the causes of Friendship and Harmony itself:

The Dominion of Equestria declares War on the Gryphon Empire, their allied Diamond Dog tribes and the Kalator dragon clan.

Author's Note

Welcome to the end of release week! Been a hell of a ride to start given we were basically shot right out of a cannon and into the war proper! But it’s a bittersweet moment as well, given that with the release of this bonus section, we have reached the end of the pre-prepared chapters. From here forward, expect a more regular pace of one to two new chapters per month, and that the chapters will lengthen. It’s my philosophy to start with smaller chapters to ease readers into a new story, as I think larger chapters are a turn-off at the start.

Regardless, hope you’ve enjoyed the ride thus far! Plenty more is planned, and major fights lie ahead. It’s been a successful release, and one I’ll have more to say about in a blog post later, but for now, I’d just like to thank everyone who’s come aboard and better yet, gone back to read the original story as well. Rise of Firefly has picked up 12 fresh likes since the new story was released. I might well have some additional bonus material to release there as well...

Nothing else to say at this point except offer yet another huge thank-you to my entire production crew of prereaders AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, TheGoldCrow, Denim_Blue, and co-author Leo Archon, who have all done their part to make sure this story was as polished as possible upon launch. Love you guys and thanks again! :pinkiehappy:

Rally and Recover: 4 - Plans in Motion

Greetings once again to all my little ponies and friends of the Equestrian nation alike. I take up the pen briefly in this new chapter at the request of Captain Firefly, to detail events and actions taking place in Canterlot on the second day of war.

I will attempt to keep my words here brief, as I do not wish them to overshadow the difficulties my beleaguered subjects and soldiers faced that day, but I do feel that I at least owe readers a window into my own thoughts and strategies at that point in time.

Signed,

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria
Canterlot

Call To Arms

High Council Chambers
Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0645 hours

‘Twas not long after dawn on September 2nd when the hastily drafted Equestrian Declaration of War was presented before me. It had already been signed by the assembled representatives of all three Pony tribes, and now the only signature it awaited was my own.

Calling the Equestrian High Council into session that chaotic first night of war had not been easy, of course. Not everypony was available, given more than a few councilponies had been slain by assassins or otherwise trapped outside of Canterlot by the dragon siege, but enough were present to reach a quorum and formally ratify the war declaration. In the end, it passed nearly unanimously with little debate, with all signatories approaching the laid-out document to sign it under the masked and watchful eyes of the PSD.

The only dissenting voice belonged to a unicorn noble who counseled negotiation and ‘careful consideration’ of gryphon grievances over an ‘ill-thought rush to war’, perchance not understanding that we were already at war and that the only negotiations the gryphons would engage in were for our terms of surrender.

Never mind the fact that the dragon clan circling our city outside had already sworn Canterlot’s destruction. Never mind the fact that, as I knew from bitter experience from dealing with Dragon Lord Kalator himself, they could not be trusted to keep any deal.

I gave a brief speech in my battle armor before the High Council flanked by my Celestial Guardsponies, whose earth pony commander, First Lieutenant Sabre Slash, had been wounded in the initial wave of assassination attempts. But to his credit, he still donned his armor and limped to his post at my side. Methinks what I said in my speech was standard boilerplate—we will not lose; we will not relent—intended for public consumption. But I kept it brief, knowing that the dirty business of fighting and winning the war required careful planning and a restored chain of command.

A day after the initial word of the Imperial attack, we had a much fuller picture of the extent of the gryphon operations, leaving it clear that we could not easily stop them. Not with nearly a fourth of our prewar combat power lost on the first day of war from the crushing of the border defenses. Not with at least fourteen identified legions surging into Equestrian territory with an unknown number yet to be committed to the fight.

Methinks the only good news we had at that point—I would not receive word of Epsilon’s successful extraction for some time—was that Gamma was holding and tying up considerable numbers of troops, whilst their northernmost legion had, according to EIS communications intercepts, been wrecked by Epsilon’s stubborn defense, preventing them from fully turning our defenses. The south was the biggest point of worry, with the well-led gryphons there having already overrun an alarming two hundred miles of territory, pushing all the way up to the edge of Thestral lands.

Their intentions past that became far less clear, however. It seemed unlikely that they would wish to antagonize the bat-ponies, whose entry into the war could more than make good our losses and turn any Imperial attempt to push past the Applelachians that marked their borders a bloody and brutal affair. But ‘twas uncertain the gryphons knew that, though ‘twas also uncertain what they planned to do about them, given they seemed to have planned for everything else.

‘Tis certain the nightmare scenario we faced in the early days of war was that they somehow co-opted the thestrals, perchance with an offer of independence or simple vengeance, leaving us to fight a two-front war with limited forces and no easy way to hold off either enemy without losing against the other.

As we adjusted to our predicament and our menacing new neighbors—who made no attempt to breach my shield but remained poised over the approaches to our great city, frequently flying overhead to remind us of their presence and intent with drawn out roars that carried across the mountains—‘twas all I could do to maintain order and prevent panic.

Particularly as anypony attempting to leave the city by ground were instantly incinerated once outside the shield; we lost at least one major noble that way as he offered up a chest of gems for his safe passage only to be laughed at and immolated, and his gems taken anyway.

Oddly enough, for reasons we did not yet understand, they were allowing ponies to enter the city but not exit, and only after stripping them of all their valuables and supplies. Outlying farms and villages were likewise spared destruction, but their residents were ordered to abandon them and flee to Canterlot or face immediate death.

We knew not what that meant or why they were doing it, but ‘twas certain it boded ill. ‘Twas a terrible time regardless, and ‘twould be a lie to say I was not worried, calculating my power reserves carefully and already making contingency plans in the event I was incapacitated by being cut off from sunlight. But never once did I believe the situation was irretrievable, nor that the dragons or gryphon invasion could not be countered.

Over the course of that day, our initial war plans were finalized, and the following General Orders were disseminated with the help of Coral Torch’s hippogriff-lent communications:

* * * * *

Celestial General Order #2943

FOR IMMEDIATE ISSUE
September 2nd, 1139 AC

To the officers and soldiers of the Equestrian Armed Forces:

Methinks I need not tell you that we have been invaded by the Gryphon Empire and are now at war. This much is known. What is not known is that we face perchance the most dire threat in our nation’s long history, exceeding even that of The Nightmare or King Sombra himself.

Gryphon numbers are vast and, taken by surprise, we have little hope of stopping them in the short term. Accordingly, we must adopt a strategy of denial and delay, trading space for time as we attempt to overextend them and slowly bleed them dry.

Fully realized, our nation’s military capacity can equal or even exceed the gryphons. But ‘twill take considerable time to reach such a state, and thus, we must hold them off long enough to fully mobilize. Accordingly, the following war policies are now in effect:

All Weather Control is suspended over greater Equestria except for particularly severe storms. All female weather team members will report to Corps recruitment offices for military service to await conscription and assignment to Corps storm teams.

All existing civilian cloud stores are now reserved for military use. We will have to rely on the slow reestablishment of natural continental weather patterns to provide our farms the rainfall they need.

We will practice a policy of scorched earth to deny the gryphons supplies. All crops, factories and bases that cannot be evacuated before the gryphon advance reaches them are to be destroyed to deny their use to the enemy. All roads and possible avenues of advance are to be rendered impassable. They may fly, but their supply trains and siege engines still require ground transport.

Universal conscription is declared for all able-bodied mares ages seventeen to forty. Only nursing or infirm mothers are excused, as well as herds with non-adult foals having only one mare left. Titles of nobility will not be accepted for deferral. And given the threat we face, I must reluctantly order that desertion be punished by death.

All ponies who have served in the Army or Aerial Corps in the past twenty years are to be returned to active duty immediately, excepting the circumstances above.

Stallion volunteers for combat duty will be accepted, but for now, they are excused from active duty and requested to report to farms and factories further back from the front to support the war effort.

We require allies in our fight. Accordingly, I will be dispatching representatives to old friends and enemies alike in hopes of enlisting their aid. This includes diplomatic missions to Thestralslovakia and other, more distant realms.

The following instructions are issued to individual service branches and adjuncts, which are in keeping with the guidance of the Winter Contingency plan for all-out war with the Empire:

The Equestrian Army is the key to our strategy of denial and delay. Lacking sufficient strength, they are not to challenge gryphon legions directly for now, but instead, pounce on overextended or isolated units and avoid encirclement; ensure that the gryphons cannot advance swiftly.

Tis certain that a fighting withdrawal is the most difficult of military endeavors, but it must now be performed by the Equestrian Army with the goal of preserving as much military strength as possible whilst slowly bleeding the gryphons and forcing them to overextend themselves.

Corps tactics will likewise be one of harassment and ambush, utilizing hit-and-fly tactics that avoid general engagement until such point as our numbers can challenge theirs.

The arms factories of Stalliongrad are to shift into full wartime production as per existing contingency plans, with an emphasis on heavy weapons and naval rearmament.

Royal Navy Expansion is to begin immediately. Keels for six new capital airships of the Harmony and Unity classes are to be laid at the Stalliongrad shipyards, and become the core of new naval battle groups. Accordingly, the as-yet untouched Capricorn Base at Stalliongrad is to become the main naval training and construction complex whilst lesser shipyards will design and build escorts of the proposed Duty II and Sentry classes.

The Equestrian Aerial Corps is to establish two additional training bases and begin mass training of pegasi, with the intention of doubling the size of the Corps from fifteen thousand soldiers to thirty within six months. If Cloudsdale has indeed been attacked, methinks there will be no shortage of volunteers.

The EIS, Black Lances and PSD are to come up with plans to organize resistance operations in occupied territory, as well as secure our own against Knight and Raven raids.

The Office of Magical Research is directed to speed research into new weapons, with an emphasis on anti-dragon arms and elemental magicks. If we can lift the siege of Canterlot, I can directly intervene in this conflict, but until the dragons are driven off, I cannot assist our forces or Canterlot falls and all within will perish.

The Royal Guard will relocate its training base from Fort Spur to western Equestria and begin training stallions and mares alike. Existing Guardsponies will be used sparingly until the time is right.

All earth pony militia are folded into the Equestrian Army. Once contact is reestablished, the Cloudsdale militia is to be folded into the Aerial Corps.

These were general orders for the individual services. What follows is my own personal guidance for the conduct of the campaign:

We will NOT throw raw recruits or untrained civilians into combat! If we do, they will be slaughtered by well-trained gryphon soldiers at great cost to our numbers and morale alike.

Our initial losses will be replenished by stripping the northern, southern, and western frontiers of Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps troops as much as possible. If this means that we must temporarily cede territory to the Maregolians or the Harpies, then so be it.

Our first wave of mobilization will be from returning retired veterans to active duty. Our second will be from training up Earth Pony and Pegasi militia. Our third will be from conscripts once they have completed basic training at Aerial Corps and Army bases. ‘Tis my hope that the first two combined with redeployment of existing forces will buy enough for the third.

Outpost Gamma is to hold out and tie up as many gryphon troops for as long as they can. I take no pleasure in this order, and am only too aware I am sentencing them to death. I will honor and mourn them. But to buy precious time, I must order their sacrifice.

These are my orders. For the sake of our survival as a nation, I expect them to be carried out faithfully and promptly. ‘Tis clear to me now that we cannot win a short war, only a long one. Therefore, we must ready ourselves to do so whilst steeling both our spines and our spirit for the hard road ahead.

We will stand. We will fight. We will prevail.

Signed,

—Princess Celestia Daybringer

This document was not for public consumption—methinks ‘twas far too frank an assessment for that—but only to be passed among the service heads and those they deemed had a need to know it. I suspected it would eventually end up in gryphon talons—‘twas certain, after all, that they still had mind-controlled agents watching us—but it mattered little.

What did matter was recovering from the shock of the initial attack, reestablishing our chain of command and beginning the bloody work of grinding the gryphon war machine to a halt.

Not all my instructions would end up being carried out, either from simple necessity or due to gryphon military prowess. But methinks it at least gave us a starting point for our resistance and the difficult road ahead.

—Princess Celestia

Thank you as always for your time and well-written entries, Princess. ‘Twas you who convinced me to write this account of the war, and yet ‘tis you who makes it complete and fills in the blanks we could otherwise not know.

But ‘tis not your general orders for the war that hold my attention now. For I write this entry following the first day of classes for the Equestrian Officer Academy’s fall session, and already I find myself lost in thought.

The foiled coup attempt, the news of which has now spread across both nations, was a huge topic of discussion of my officer candidates, both pony and gryphon alike—of which my first-year class has seven of the latter as part of the ongoing exchange program between our respective militaries.

At one point, the uncomfortable question was posed by the former to the latter—what would they have done if the coup attempt succeeded and the Empire was restored?

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

‘Twas a very difficult question for them to answer, as many of them had friends and family here, and had come to admire and respect Equestria in ways their forebears never did. One said that he would not have believed the Empire’s explanation of events; that ponies were capable of such severe treachery, and thus refused to return, even at the cost of dishonor and disgrace.

Another explained though honor would require them to obey orders and return, the Empire was not honorable and she could not, in good conscience, serve it. A third said that he would indeed return home—to fight the reborn Empire before it plunged them into another ruinous era of endless war.

This in turn led to a spirited discussion of what honor actually was, and what use ‘twas in wartime. I shared some of my own experiences of honor, both offered and denied, and then brought up the difficult dilemma that Imperial forces faced against Epsilon.

I reminded my students again of how the gryphon offer of honor had in fact been taken advantage of by my forces, seizing upon both the midnight surrender deadline and Centurion Nael’s offer of an honor duel, using them to buy ourselves the time we needed to make our superstorm and then escape.

‘Twas an interesting talk, and before long, I’d thrown away my class lesson plan for the day and instead let my students debate. In the end, with some fairly intractable disagreements presenting themselves, I assigned an exercise for my class: take the role of the two sides that first night of war in the lead up to the midnight battle at Epsilon, with a twist:

I ordered the ponies to command the gryphon side and the gryphons to command the pony one, and to come up with strategies they considered both effective and ‘honorable’ given the following objectives—force the outpost’s surrender or otherwise take Epsilon down quickly and cheaply for the gryphon side, whilst the pony side was given the outpost’s standing orders in the event of invasion: hold out for as long as possible and inflict as many losses as they could.

As the plans were made and dice were rolled to simulate the randomness of war, calculating casualties as well as the success or failure of individual engagements, it quickly became apparent that the objectives—and how the two sides defined honor for them—could not but clash. And thus, no matter who was victorious—‘tis worth noting that we ran the battle simulations five times using various schemes and strategies both sides offered, and Epsilon escaped annihilation only once—one side would believe the other acted dishonorably or outright committed an atrocity when all was said and done.

‘Twas a sobering experience, and as class ended, I left my subdued students with the following assignment: write an essay of how they individually defined honor, and what it would require them to do should they be issued orders they find dishonorable.

‘Tis an exercise I must now apply to myself, as I suddenly recall an instance where neither I nor the Equestrian side acted honorably by the standards of either race. Our reasons at the time seemed sound if not entirely comfortable, but looking back now, a grave injustice was done and continues to be done by covering up the true events. A difficult decision lies ahead for me, but whilst I ponder it, the story of the war continues.

Methinks I know of what events you speak, Captain, and ‘tis certain I do not envy you this dilemma. Just know that whatever you decide, I will back you and serve any role in its revealing that you wish.

Greetings once again to all readers. ‘Tis Commodore Shady speaking again. With the coup attempt thwarted and both the Queen and Admiral safe, ‘tis time I continue the tale in lieu of Admiral Tailwind, who remains bedridden and very frustrated, though at least he finally has his daughter at his side.

For those who are interested, a proper duel between the Loyalty and Arnau did finally happen, with the battle perchance appropriately ending in a draw. Both ships were ruled to have sustained heavy damage and casualties but also to have remained flight and fightworthy, each unable to land a killing blow on the other.

Perchance symbolic, in the end, of the war between our races as a whole.

As the Arnau readies to depart with her escorts and Queen Jeyenne, and I make ready to return with the Loyalty to Capricorn base, leaving the Admiral to his ongoing recovery, I will detail the next stage of my ship’s role in the war, skipping ahead a day. For we had just received orders I feared would be both dangerous and difficult to carry out, though ‘twas not the gryphons that had me or the future Bolt Knight Captain worried.

‘Twas the prospective encounter with the fourth pony race, though both they and the other three would deny their inclusion in that membership at the time.

—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad

Towards the Unknown

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Northern Ohioat province
220 miles north-northwest of Lake Luna on the Thestralslovakian border
September 3rd, 1139 AC
1430 hours

‘Twas the middle of the following afternoon before the Loyalty finally lifted off from Royal Navy Base Ursa.

We had to wait until the base defenses were set and enough supplies were loaded, as the guns of the Loyalty and Vigil were the only real defense the base had until sufficient reinforcements were in place.

It took far longer than I would have liked. As promised, freshly mobilized troops in the form of an Army regiment and two battalions from the Aerial Corps 4th Division arrived during the night, followed swiftly by the promised thirty transports from Stalliongrad.

But they had flown all night to get there, leaving their soldiers and unicorn Airedales exhausted and transported workers scarcely less so, having been kept on alert and unable to sleep, fearing a gryphon nighttime raid on their barely-defended formation.

They were spared that, thankfully, though ‘twas certain they needed rest, and then to get sorted and organized before they could start into their appointed tasks—repairing the engines of the badly damaged Armistice and getting the Yoketown battleworthy in addition to resupplying the Loyalty. As a result, ‘twas not until nearly noon when our resupply effort began in earnest and our crystals recharged.

Once they were, we were to obey our orders and head south for the bat-pony lands, seeking the missing Cloudsdale whilst the war continued to rage to the east; the gryphons having only briefly paused from their first day efforts to reorganize before resuming their advance.

There was little we could do about them for now, as ‘twas certain their forces would be alert to our presence. We had been lucky once, but ‘twas certain that to attempt to engage them again ‘twould be suicide without sufficient escort and support.

Which was not to say that our new mission might be any less so. ‘Twould be a lie to say sailing for Thestralslovakia ‘twas a task I was relishing. In truth, methinks that in some ways, ‘twas even more dreaded for me than taking the battle group into action at Epsilon base.

At least with the gryphons, we knew they were our enemies and how they fought. But what did we truly know about the bat-ponies anymore? Very little, this long after the War of the Celestial Sisters. They kept mostly to themselves in the territory the Princess had ceded them, in her belief that ‘twas indeed their ancestral home and they were just as much the victim of The Nightmare as her lost sister.

Whether true or not, granting them their own land and lakewater ‘twas both a peace offering and a magnanimous gesture to a defeated foe. And ‘twould be a lie to say it had not worked—in return for autonomy and Cloudsdale filling their reservoirs yearly, they paid their taxes and kept watch over the wild lands of the Everfree for us, causing no internal troubles for the Equestrian nation.

This despite the belief of many that they would stab us in the back at the first opportunity. They hadn’t yet, but what if they had just been waiting for the right opportunity? And what, then, if the gryphons offered them that opportunity? Would both we and Cloudsdale then be walking into a trap? Would they deliver us and Cloudsdale to the gryphons on a platter, and then turn their own army—estimated by some to be twenty thousand strong—on Equestria, facing us with an unholy alliance we could not easily defeat?

I knew not, as I retired for the first time in two days the previous night, returning to my stateroom only to find myself lying in bed staring at the ceiling. In truth, I had only seen a bat-pony once to that point, not counting the eyes of Fell Flight, on an official visit to Canterlot that coincided with the Nightborne ambassador’s yearly visit.

She was presented at court during the Grand Galloping Gala—an affair that solidified my distaste for such ceremony and disdain for most of the noble class. Seeing webbed bat wings and orange cat eyes on a dark-furred pony body made me shiver as I was introduced to her, her attributes only accentuated by the lower light levels the Princess was keeping the ballroom at to be a good hostess.

If she detected my discomfort, she hid it well, instantly recognizing my service and rank. She noted further to my great surprise that the Navy had been the thestral service branch in days of yore, and many were the tales still told by Nightborne elders of the Royal Navy’s exploits before—and during—the Celestial War.

All this I recalled as I rested in my stateroom, or tried to, leaving Commander Tailwind in charge until I awoke. In truth, ‘tis certain I wasn’t sure I could sleep, but either through exhaustion or the same tea I ordered Firefly to drink, it finally came. By the time I arose again—methinks I was shocked to have slept for nearly thirteen hours and a little annoyed at not being rousted after a reasonable time—’twas early afternoon.

I reentered the bridge to find we were being readied for departure as the final supplies were loading, whilst Master Sergeant Firefly formally folded the remains of her battalion under our air wing. They were made an independent air group under her command, consisting of two separate platoons. I was fine with that as long as Phantom Flight was, but ‘twas certain I was less than happy about our orders—particularly the fact that the Vigil would not be accompanying us, as Port Admiral Ironclad wished her to remain at the base as cover.

Her master, Commander Copper Coin, was less than pleased, but methinks he was assuaged by the fact that his ship became the defacto flagship of the three-ship battle group there, thus making him acting Commodore, even if the other two ships were not combat worthy.

There was one minor surprise, however, before departure, though methinks I had no sense of how momentous and important ‘twould one day be. Though perchance you should be the one to detail this, Captain, as you knew them well before I did.

Perchance you are right, old friend. So whilst reading through the honor essays I received from my class, mayhap I will take a break from them and pen a brief passage.

—Firefly

Licking Wounds

‘Tis certain Captain Shady was not the only one who finally collapsed exhausted in bed when all was said and done.

Not long after Admiral Coral Torch ended communication, the mint tea Shady had requested for me arrived. She immediately ordered me to drink it, saying it would help me sleep. I protested mildly until she reminded me that I was currently under her command by virtue of my presence aboard her ship, and that I would be no good to anypony if I did not rest, offering me a bed in the more comfortable senior enlisted racks if I wished.

‘Twas then I relented and drank it, and I regret that I do not recall what happened after, save that I woke up on a cloud in the senior enlisted quarters much later. Methinks I wonder to this day if the tea had been magically spiked for how swiftly I fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of naval reveille. It took me a moment to recall where I was and what had happened; I tried to rise only to fall back in my bunk. I thought to just close my eyes for a few moments more to gather myself only to open them again and find ‘twas mid-morning.

Wondering why I had not been rousted, I finally found enough strength and focus to rise; the stiffness of my muscles telling me how long I had slept and the rumble of my belly indicating how long since I had eaten.

Deciding my hunger had to be taken care of first following a check-in with father and Gavian, I found the latter, much to my surprise, helping my battalion train the Naval troops on the upper observation deck by doing what he’d always done for my soldiers—give them an actual gryphon foil who fought far better than the average Talon. He did so under the watchful eyes of a still-wounded Swift Strike and Private Mammatus, who later gave close-quarters blade and crossbow lessons she’d picked up in the PSD.

I was not reassured by the fact that the drills were with real blades, and that Gavian was even allowing their troops to try and target him with crossbows; ones that were firing some kind of dummy dart that left a colored streak on his feathers but did not harm him.

My own soldiers were trying out the wrist-mounted Naval crossbows as well to mixed results. The Corps had always disdained them, not just for their limited range and our (then) inability to reload them in battle, but for their violation of Corps combat doctrine—that having to alter flight to aim or launch them just made lightly-armored Corps soldiers more vulnerable when their lethality and survivability were based on speed, agility and constant maneuver.

But the Naval ones seemed to at least partially compensate for that with their admittedly impressive stopping power. I’d seen at least one squad-launched volley—or excuse me, ‘squadron’-launched—punch through even Fortis Knight armor during the cavern battle, and ‘twas certainly an excellent equalizer for their lower skill level in aerial fights. It also gave the clearly inferior Naval soldiers at least one point where they could boast superiority over our own, giving lessons on their use in return.

Regardless, with my body stiff and achy from extended sleep, to say nothing of the battering I had taken—methinks the Naval healers who had treated me were in disbelief that I was still alive after the Magus lightning strike!—I did not participate in the training beyond simply observing, surprised briefly by the “Attention on Deck!” call and salute from the Naval pegasi that greeted my appearance.

“As you were,” I told them, taking my place beside Swift Strike as Gavian continued to lecture the Naval troops about gryphon weaknesses in flight and armor, showing them by example what he could and could not do in comparison to pegasi.

“Commander,” my equally bleary-eyed Black Lance friend acknowledged me as he watched the drills and the remaining Loyalty crew worked around us. They were stowing supplies and tending damage to the ship; as I watched, a few small breaks in the rigging and tears in the dirigible balloons were patched by brave earth ponies and dockworker pegasi alike. “How are you?”

“Alive,” I told him, to which he could only smile and chuckle. “And how fare you, Sky Sergeant?”

“Alive... but embarrassed,” he replied to my surprise. “And very chagrined. For the longest time, I thought myself untouchable. I survived sixteen years and forty missions for the Lances without suffering more than a few scratches to the Ravens or any other gryphon soldiers.

“But then I suffered no less than three major hits during the Epsilon battles—and worse, one was to the Talons.” He shook his head as he displayed his bandaged wounds to me, which included not just a pair of deep slashes to his side and left foreleg, but a scorched and shrapnel-peppered left side of his face. “Methinks either they’re getting better, or I’m getting older.”

“And methinks you took on an entire army down there,” I reminded him. “Just surviving their onslaught was impressive enough.”

“For you as well, ma’am,” he rejoined with the barest hint of mirth. “To say nothing of Gavian. To see him now, methinks there is little more he can learn from me. My student is now a teacher.” He gestured to Gavian, his gaze once more focusing on my son. “In the space of but eight short months, he has truly come into his own as a warrior.” His tone turned wistful for a moment.

“‘Tis certain he would be delighted to hear that.” Methinks I was both gratified and troubled by the praise. The former was for simple pride in my son, whilst the latter was for what it would mean to him—would he now be fighting on the frontlines against his own race? What would that do to him? Or to me to see the gryphon I called my son risk his life like that? “And ‘tis to your great credit as well.”

“Excuse me. Commander?” A stallion’s voice with a mild Swheatish accent broke into our thoughts, calling to me from behind.

We turned in some surprise. I recognized the voice immediately, but I thought—or had assumed—he and his comrades had already left the ship. “Silver Seax”, I acknowledged the head of our now-former earth pony maintenance crew. He was with the surviving members of the group; their long blonde manes and beards looking a little out of place amongst all the military crew cuts.

“’Tis good to see you again and I am gratified to find you safe. You and your kin fought very well in the Epsilon battles, and be assured I will see that you are recognized and decorated for fighting at our side. I would be more than happy to recommend you all be given immediate ranks and station in the Equestrian Army if you wish.”

He bowed his head. “Thank you, ma’am. Though our efforts were not without loss.” Pain showed on his face for but a moment, his sentiments echoed by the solemn nods but mostly stoic expressions of his brothers.

I nodded solemnly myself. “I understand you lost three of your kindred in the Vault battles. I’m truly sorry,” I told them, bowing my head at the deaths of such fine and stalwart stallions. Our earth pony maintenance crew consisted of friends and siblings from three separate Swheatish families. They told me once they had volunteered for service in the desert frontier so they could get ‘as far away from the beasts and blizzards’ of their homeland as possible, finding the warmer and much more arid climate of the gryphon border to their liking.

“But they—and you—have my thanks for staying with us until the end,” I continued. “I heard from Swift Strike and Spear Sergeant Steelheart what you did. ‘Tis certain we could not have held the cavern during the midnight battle without you.”

“You flatter us, Ma’am,” he replied, sparing a glance at the sparring sessions between my soldiers and the naval troops, who were always coming out on the worst end of the exchanges—no surprise given their relative lack of training and the skill of my soldiers. “Be assured our brothers will be remembered and honored. But to help us do so, we have a request.”

“A request? What is it you wish of me?” I asked, reflecting on the time I had known them. They had originally been hired as civilian contractors following the Hearth’s Warming raider attack the previous year, assigned to Epsilon to rebuild and enlarge the base following the destructive—and very bloody—raid.

Though they kept to themselves at first, having never been around the military or so many pegasi before, they had gradually opened up and had been eventually accepted by my troops for their excellent work and surprising musical talents, which we had drawn upon during our farewell-to-arms party that was supposed to mark the breakup of our battalion just before the war started.

He looked back at his brothers before replying, receiving some nods from them. “We have been asked to leave the ship and join the civilian efforts below. But we do not wish to,” he told me. “We’ve been talking, ma’am, and we’ve decided that to honor the sacrifice of our brothers and do our duty to Equestria… we wish to stay here, on board the Loyalty.”

“I see…” I said cautiously, touched yet troubled by the gesture. They were excellent warriors and handiponies who were certainly good in a fight, as skilled with their axes as they were with their musical instruments and worker tools. But to risk even more of their males when they had already sacrificed so many…? “’Tis appreciated, but ‘tis not my choice to make, I’m afraid.”

He bowed his head again. “We are aware, Commander. But we would ask that you wouldst put in a good word for us with Captain Shady. Tell her we would volunteer to work down in engineering or in whatever capacity she deems proper. We learn quickly and this ship…” he looked around at the ongoing activity. “’Tis hard to explain, but we like it here. It simply feels to us that here—with all of you—is where we need to be.”

“I see…” I said again, though I really didn’t—earth ponies generally didn’t like flying, but these five wanted to stay here on a Naval vessel? “Then have you spoken to Flash Fix about working in engineering?”

To my surprise, they all gave knowing grins. “We have. And given we fixed his still, and perchance even improved his brew, methinks he will have no objection to our presence.”

“Methinks it also helped that we bested all his crew in repair drills and Flash Fix himself in axe throwing accuracy,” one of his brothers added with a smirk, pulling an axe to twirl it around his hoof.

I couldn’t help but smile as well as the swordplay increased behind me. I turned to see Gavian taking down an entire flight of naval pegasi in rapid succession, knocking them to the deck with the flat of his blade before lecturing them on what they did wrong, to the cheers and laughter of the Corps soldiers. “Very well, then. I will see what I can do. Ultimately, this is Captain Shady’s ship, but methinks I have no objection to your presence if ‘tis truly what you wish. Methinks I might like to hear some of your songs again, too. They were very rousing and an excellent boost to morale.”

“Perchance that could be arranged, ma’am.” Silver Seax grinned broadly. “’Tis certain we’ve been working on additional songs, including one inspired by the Epsilon defense. And ‘twill be our pleasure to present it when the time is right.”

That the time would come soon was perchance not much of a surprise, but ‘tis certain the service it provided in support of future war efforts was! I do not know if their songs were born of Harmony, but at times it certainly felt like it, given their surprising effects and how rousing to the spirit they oft were!

—Firefly

That they were, Captain. I admit I was dubious when you presented them to me, and in truth, ‘twas only Flash Fix who swayed me, saying that “any pony who can fix my still and improve me spirits is a pony worth keeping!”, adding that they’d indeed shown the ability to conduct repairs and pick up the shipcrafts they’d need quickly.

They were named civilian adjuncts of the crew and eventually given brevet naval ranks, though methinks I did insist that they cut their manes if they wished to stay aboard!

—Commodore Shady

A fine set of stallions indeed, Captain. I have yet to hear their music, though I am told by those gryphons who have that their ballads are very rousing to both the mind and spirit.

Greetings again to all pony and gryphon readers alike. This is Ambassador Kaval speaking now, taking some time to contribute a brief section of my own before I depart to see off Queen Jeyenne this evening. I admit I do not know of what you speak when you say that you once acted dishonorably by the standards of both sides, Captain, and I can only assume that the fact that you left it in your draft for me to read meant that you wished me to see it.

Be assured, you are many things to me, but ‘dishonorable’ is a label I would never attach to you or the Equestrian side in general. One of many reasons I eventually gave up the life of a soldier for that of a diplomat, seeking to atone for my own dishonorable acts during the war.

—Layan Kaval
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot

Black Knight

7th Talon Legion Headquarters
Town Hall, Occupied Mareasses
200 miles inside Equestria and 35 miles east of Thestralslovakian border
September 3rd, 1540 hours

Twas only three days into the war, and our advance in multiple sectors was already severely disrupted.

The losses in the north and stalled campaign in the center due to the stubborn resistance of Outpost Gamma forced some hasty reorganization of the most battered of the lead legions, with two fresh ones being brought up quickly to take over the advance. The 5th and 16th legions had to be pulled back after losing a combined forty percent of their numbers, with their heavy losses suffered in consuming the first two lines of the pony defense.

The 5th’s losses were due to insufficient Knight support and savage resistance at Trottingham and the nearby Army bases, whilst the 16th’s were attributable to a ‘staggering level of idiocy and incompetence’ on the part of its commanders, to quote Prelate Gaius himself.

The south, as stated before, ‘twas another matter. Under the command of the cunning and aggressive Legate Romelus, The 6th and 7th legions had exceeded all expectations in their drive south and west, overrunning several major cities and penetrating nearly seventy leagues into pony territory. Their combined wave had rolled all the way up to the foot of the Applelachian mountains, thus presenting us with our first real dilemma: The bat-ponies that lived beyond the heights.

Chiefly, whether to engage them now, or later. And whether engaging them would mean diplomacy or warfare.

The question was weighing heavily on the Prelate’s mind as we paired his trip to the north with one to the south the following day, meeting Legate Romelus herself at her improvised headquarters at the Mareasses Town Hall.

When we arrived, we found her forces patrolling the streets whilst the remaining ponies huddled in fear inside their abodes, unseen except for a few furtive glances out windows. To her credit, she had taken the town swiftly and nearly intact; there was little to mark the change of ownership except a few shattered doors and windows plus a lightning scorch mark here and there.

Having crushed Fort Feathertop and destroyed the Corps battalion there, to say nothing of getting the town’s militia garrison to surrender without a fight to a simple show of force, she’d completely cowed the civilians and was meeting no resistance to her occupation—unlike our efforts further north, where the Prelate had ordered the raider leaders beheaded for exceeding orders and slaughtering civilians, directing they be publicly executed before the residents of Baltimare and Fillydelphia in hopes of quelling their anger.

It remained to be seen whether that would work, and ‘twould be several weeks before the ports would be cleared for use by our forces thanks to the overzealous raider efforts. And in a further complicating factor, there had been at least one zebra ship caught in the crossfire whilst docked offshore of Baltimare, with crew killed; ‘twas certain that word would get back to Zebrica and diplomatic protests would result.

Such matters would have to be dealt with later, however. Having defrocked one Legion commander, the Prelate wished to decorate another as well as discuss future operations with her. That the 7th Talon Legion had performed so well was a point of particular pride for Salvio Gaius, given that it had once been his legion during the war with the Elder Rams.

“Greetings, Prelate!” the sky gryphon named Urban Romelus exclaimed with both pride and affection as he entered, snapping him an immediate salute as an assembled turma from her century-sized headquarters security force stood at attention behind her. She had been the Prelate’s talon-picked successor for command of his old legion, and ‘twas no question she had done him proud.

“I hope this day finds you well. I have followed the news from other sectors with great interest, and should you wish my services on other fronts, be assured I can take command of them instantly,” she offered along with some tea and the town’s local cider, which I had already sampled and found far too weak.

“And ‘tis to your great credit, Legate. ‘Tis one of many things I wish to discuss with you,” the Prelate replied with a smile, returning the salute crisply. He next offered his successor a very warm and comradely clasp, to the scowling disapproval of the Primarch. “Your success here is beyond all measure and provides us with a unique opportunity. Though I feel I must offer you at least a slight rebuke for exceeding your objectives and passing out of communications range. Methinks you caused a great deal of consternation at headquarters, Legate.” He raised an eyeridge at her. “They took to calling you the Phantom Legion afterwards.”

Her grin only got broader. “I will pass that along to my forces! Methinks we will wear that title as a badge of honor, my lord!”

“As well they should. But having discharged that tiresome duty, there is more I wish you to wear now!” he said with a smile and nod to me.

I smiled in return, sitting back and unfurling a scroll. “Legate Romelus! For such superb service to the Empress, accomplishing a feat far exceeding even the grandest designs of our initial operations, you are recognized as a true warrior and commander! And thus, by order of the Prelate, you are hereby promoted… to sub-Consul!” I affixed her new cape and rank insignia as she stood at attention, trying not to beam as I stepped back and she received additional armor pieces from the Prelate’s other aides.

“You honor me, sir!” She saluted the Prelate again once they were affixed as well.

“‘Tis well earned,” the Prelate said with great warmth. “And with it, ‘tis now time to discuss your next assignment. Your achievements here have given us a unique opportunity as we sit on the cusp of the thestral lands. Methinks the question now is, how best to exploit it.” He went over to her map table, studying it carefully.

Her smile turned predatory. “Methinks you know exactly how to exploit it, Prelate! So what is there to discuss? We have a strong salient, so let us use it! As I now bear sufficient rank, give me the 6th and 12th legions in addition to the 7th! Let me drive west with them now!” Romelus eagerly offered.

“Directly into bat-pony lands?” the Prelate challenged with a raised eyeridge.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then caught herself. “I am aware you seek their alliance, my lord, but given our successes here, why bother? Methinks we must fight them eventually, so why not now? My forces are flush with victory and stand both ready and eager to continue the advance!

“If successful, we can not only knock their entire race and nation out of the war, but turn the entire pony defense! We could conduct a grand encirclement, and trap the bulk of their forces to the east of the Lunar Sea!” She stabbed with a talon at the map, then made a sweeping motion from our current location to the north.

“Think of it, Prelate… we could not only knock the bat-ponies out of the war before they can truly enter it, but pocket all the Equestrian forward forces, turning their own prepared lines of defense and chokepoints into their undoing!” Romelus insisted eagerly. “With but one bold stroke, we could force them to forfeit a third of their nation and most of their military at little cost!”

“A tempting proposition…” the Prelate agreed, his expression thoughtful. “But not without potentially great danger. That would cause the thestrals to immediately side with Celestia and could complicate our operations if Equestrian forces suddenly acquire a strong night-fighting capability. We also know less about bat-pony numbers and tactics than I would like, and I am doubtful that just three legions would be equal to the task of subduing them,” he mused.

The newly-minted Sub-Consul looked insulted for a moment and was about to speak before Gaius held up a halting paw. “‘Tis not a slight against you or your Talons, Sub-Consul. ‘Tis simply that the Owls were not able to gain much intelligence on them aside from some basic information on their two factions and the mutual enmity between them. And lacking that, a direct invasion with available forces seems unwise. ‘Tis why I seek to co-opt at least one side of them instead of simply sweeping them aside. They are predators like us, and by all reports, they hate Equestria and Celestia as much as we do.”

Romelus shook her head sharply. “Mayhap they are predators, and perchance they have no love for Celestia, but they are still ponies! We do not need their help, and methinks we should not take the chance that they may yet side with Equestria despite our overtures!

“So let us invade their lands now, Prelate, before they have a chance to fully mobilize! I acknowledge their skill in night fights, but even our limited intelligence shows they lack heavy weapons and any real daytime combat capability! So if necessary, we can go to ground at night and crush them during the day!” she claimed, punctuating her statement with a clenched claw that pounded on the table, her eyes gleaming with warrior fire.

The Prelate smiled anew at her confidence, only to finally shake his head. “Your aggressive instincts and strategic vision do you great credit, Sub-Consul. But no,” he decided at some length. “We simply do not have enough intelligence to risk it. We already have multiple overtures to the thestral factions in progress, and ‘twould be dishonorable to attack before they are answered. If we can co-opt just one side of them, Equestria’s entire forward defense likewise crumbles at little cost to us.”

Her expression dropped. “And if they later side with Celestia, Equestria’s entire forward defense is greatly strengthened and our advance becomes far more difficult,” she reminded him. “The risks of waiting must also be weighed, my lord.”

“I understand your concerns, sub-Consul, but I do not fear them siding with Celestia. Not when they have their own internal schism and shortly, a civil war to deal with.” He smiled thinly. “They are a house divided, and thus, with but a little prodding, they will turn on each other and then consume their own nation from within.

“And when they do? We will be able to open a second front towards Canterlot, threatening the ponies with a massive pincer attack from two directions. Then the only question becomes, whether the northern or southern prong reaches the Equestrian capital first!” He smiled at the prospect.

“For now, sub-Consul, your forces will continue the drive south, with a goal of encircling thestral lands and invading the Campelonian provinces on the other side. But you will not be there to lead them,” he told her, gaining her immediate attention. “I will indeed avail myself of your offer to lend your services elsewhere. For ‘tis certain I need your keen military mind on other fronts.”

“My Lord!” she exclaimed, her disappointment instantly forgotten. “And what does the Prelate wish of me, then?”

He smiled again, pulling out and unrolling a different map, this one showing all of northeast Equestria. “As other sectors of our offensive have enjoyed far less success, I direct you to take command of a newly forming Grand Legion that comprises the northern wing of our advance. Your initial command will include four damaged legions along with two fresh ones, as well as a full millenium of Knights with Owl and Raven adjuncts. Before you ask, be assured you have both my confidence and full authority to make any changes in command or organization that you see fit.”

Her red-feathered chest and head puffed out proudly, immediately drawing the Prelate’s gaze; there were times I wondered if Salvio Gaius’ interest in her was, in fact, somewhat personal given he seemed to favor both red feathers and keen intellects in his eaglesses. “I will carry out my new orders to the best of my ability, sir! And my objectives?”

He smiled broadly as he beheld the grand scale of his own design. “Sweep all before you. Take Maresk and Fort Ironheart, and then drive all the way to the Celestial and Lunar Seas,” he said succinctly, his eyes taking a predatory gleam as he tapped several locations on the map in turn.

“Crush the Ursa Naval Base and capture Detrot if you can, but your primary objective is here!” He tapped the area between the two seas. “Seize the Shetlandian Isthmus between the lakes before the ponies can set a defense and then break out into Wiscoltson! If you can do so, then we bypass the bulk of their potential battle lines!

“Success means that not only will the Equestrian breadbasket of the Unicorn Plains lie before us undefended, but the northern route to Canterlot will be wide open!” he proclaimed, leaving me in immense admiration of his strategy; one ‘tis certain I would never have thought of myself: he was disdaining the more direct and obvious southern drive between the Lunar Sea and Foal Mountains for a grand flanking maneuver using the lakes to the north; one that—if successful—would unhinge the entire Equestrian defense and seize their fertile farmlands for us just as harvest was reached.

“A brilliant plan! For Empress and Ancestors, it will be done!” she gave him the ritual response with a salute and bared throat. She then invited him to a private dinner followed by a tour of her new headquarters neither I nor the increasingly annoyed Primarch was invited on.

To perchance little surprise, they retired early behind a cordon of guards and we did not see either of them again until we departed the following morning.

Thank you as always, Ambassador. As much as we vilified Salvio Gaius during the war, alternately seeing him as an evil incarnate or a mad military genius, ‘tis sometimes good to know that he had a softer side; that he was in fact capable of desire and affection as well. I also note he was just as capable of recognizing good battlefield performance as poor, and rewarding the latter appropriately—the mark of a good commander.

Yes, looking back, I did leave that passage in so you wouldst see it. Having discussed it with those ponies who know of what dishonor I speak, I now formally request a meeting with you. And I further request that it come before the Queen departs.

Whilst I await your response, I will end this chapter myself, with the Loyalty on her final approach to Lake Luna and the Thestralslovakian border.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Nightfall [Evilfeast - From the Northern Wallachian Forest... Tyranny Returns]

EAS Loyalty
North Shore of Lake Luna
September 3rd, 1139 AC
1840 hours

As we closed the distance to thestral lands, the mood aboard the Loyalty got progressively more tense.

The Foal Mountains that marked their northern border were now visible in the distance as we approached at dusk, with the peaks masked by their ever-present mists. ‘Twas within those mists we suspected a wounded Cloudsdale lay hidden, but we were not reassured by the fact that no patrols or pegasi came out to meet us, which was odd and perchance alarming given there were supposed to be at least two battalions of Corps forces now present there.

Crystal communication hails were likewise not answered as we got closer, either from Cloudsdale or the thestrals, even upon diplomatic channels reserved for the latter’s use.

‘Twas not to say we had no news in the meantime, though. Reports were filtering in from all over Equestria of Imperial operations, and the news was mostly grim, particularly in the south. And worse, to my great consternation, there was no word yet from Fort Spur save that she had indeed been struck but still stood.

‘Twas perchance at least mildly reassuring, but I still had no idea if my beloved sister Wind Whistler was alive, save for what I somehow sensed in my heart. I did not, however, have the same feeling when it came to my mentor, but I shoved that fear as deep down within me as I could.

For there was a war to fight, and I could not dwell on losses, either real or prospective given the unknown and potentially dangerous situation we were heading into. After lunch with Gavian, who made it known he wished to be given some role or duty on the airship, I found myself seeking solace from my fears and began making the rounds again, finding the infirmary still full of wounded and my soldiers slowly absorbing the events of the past few days.

Once we were underway and combat air patrol was set between the Naval air wing and my then-sixty effectives, Captain Shady pulled in all senior staff of both services to discuss what we would do given various scenarios of our arrival at Lake Luna and Cloudsdale’s suspected position.

Our orders were to avoid conflict, which we would do our best to abide by. But in the end, we knew not how the thestrals would take our presence. By the letter of the sovereignty settlement they had signed with Celestia—which we took great pains to review in our meeting to make sure we knew its terms—they were required to allow Equestrian military forces free passage in time of war, so in theory, they could do nothing regardless of whether they wanted us there.

But could the bat-ponies be trusted to keep their side of the treaty? What if they ignored it and attacked us for breaking their borders, perchance hoping to curry favor with the gryphons? We agreed that we would arrive already at General Quarters, and if conflict was forced upon us, we would not surrender—we would fight our way out and then report our reception to high command, giving them the unhappy news that we were now at war with Thestralslovakia as well as the Empire.

‘Twould be a last resort, however, as we continued hailing the thestrals and Cloudsdale, advising them of our approach. We had just made it to Lake Luna and crossed into thestral lands when our patrols sighted Cloudsdale not far to the west, just visible at sunset through the mountain mists. But before we could sail for her or make contact, we suddenly found ourselves swarmed by half a millennium of dark-furred thestral soldiers, their eyes glowing like embers in the deepening dusk.

We had neither seen nor sensed their approach despite our patrols, as they had apparently hid inside the mists and nearby floating clouds, hanging by their wing talons from their undersides and then closing on us from all directions.

They had us, and we were shortly hailed by their leader, who alit on the forward observation deck with a full squad of her brethren and demanded to speak to the Captain. Agreeing with an order to my father to seal the ship and ignite the ballonet defenses on her orders, Shady shortly exited the bridge to meet them, flanked by me and Fell Flight as well as the ship’s Mare-at-Arms, who was equipped with more weapons than I would have thought possible on a single pony.

‘Twas my first time seeing full thestrals, and ‘tis certain they did give me pause—large membrane wings, predatory eyes and teeth, and a general air about them that told me they were well-trained soldiers, anxious but not afraid.

And not to be taken lightly. At first glance, they were only lightly armed and armored, wearing treated animal hides for the latter whilst lacking wingblades for the former. But in their place, they had their own wrist-mounted crossbow variant and twin curved short blades on their belts not far removed from what unicorns used, and the manner in which they moved and flew was… unique. Different than either pegasi or gryphons, leaving me unable to immediately read their fighting styles or how best to counter them.

All this was noted in passing as their leader set her eyes on each of us in turn. Her gaze lingered on Fell Flight briefly, her face taking on an expression of open contempt as she recognized her eyes, causing those of my second to narrow. “I am Colonel Aegir Ale of the Nightborne Army. You are in violation of the border, Equestrians,” she warned in a noticeable Romareian accent.

“For which we apologize, but be assured our intentions are peaceful,” Shady answered easily with a placating bow of her head, though I caught a flash of anger in her eyes. “I am Captain—”

“We know who you are,” the Colonel cut her off hard, sparing another contemptuous look at the rest of us. Her eyes narrowed again as she set them on Fell Flight, whose anger was quickly growing along with my own at the blatant disrespect shown to not just her, but all of us.

To say nothing of their open flouting of the treaty, as her next words made clear: “And ‘tis not important. All that matters is that you are now in thestral lands, in violation of our sovereignty settlement with your Princess! For breaking the treaty and invading our territory, you are ordered to set down your ship in Lake Luna and surrender yourselves immediately to our custody…”

“I am a Soldier. I fight where I am told, and I win where I fight.” —General George S. Patton

Author's Note

Hey, folks. I didn’t collect all prereads for this one, for which I apologize to certain prereaders, but I really wanted to this done in time to release on Veteran’s Day here in the USA and Armistice Day elsewhere, marking the 101st anniversary of the end of “The War to End All Wars” which wasn’t--The Great War, aka World War I. As you read this, consider the sacrifices of countless soldiers that allow us to enjoy the freedoms, liberties and lifestyle we currently enjoy, and remember that the old saying is forever true: “Good people sleep soundly because rough men stand read to do violence on their behalf.” The job of the soldier is unending and too often thankless, but no less necessary for it.

As promised, I reordered the chapters slightly to put the Equestrian War Declaration immediately before this chapter. I also did a mild retcon on the previous chapter to make Legate Romelus an Eagless, for reasons that should be quite apparent from this chapter. :twilightsmile:

Thanks as always go to Silentwoodfire, Leo Archon, AJ_Aficionado, and Denim_Blue for reading and commenting on the Google Doc. This chapter came to me surprisingly quickly and easily, which is always a good sign. Read and enjoy, and then light a candle to mark the day.

Rally and Recover: 5 - Brinksponyship

Well, Captain.

I have read through the documents you passed me, and I admit I was stunned by what they revealed. ‘Twas indeed a grave injustice they indicated—an injustice that we, by extension, became complicit in simply for believing the EIS-fueled deceptions regarding it. We truly had no idea.

There is but one survivor on the gryphon side of that action, and due to the dishonor unjustly attached to his name over it, he lives in solitude and ‘tis said by the Council of Crows that he has not spoken a single word since the war’s end, bearing a magically locked compass that only he knows how to unseal.

And yet, having had a week to ponder this, I cannot be angry. For we, too, engaged in such deceptions and deliberate attempts to deny honor, and for much the same reasons as the Equestrian side. I have discussed these revelations at length with Queen Jeyenne, catching up with her airship as it passed over the Celestial Sea. We agree that if inevitable gryphon outrage is to be assuaged, we must do two things:

First, we must do our utmost to rectify the injustice done, and second, we must offer up evidence of our own dishonorable conduct in this regard. ‘Twill take some time for the Crows to dig out the documentation necessary from the Office of Owl archives, so I ask for your patience as well.

I do request, however, to be put into private contact with your former second regarding this, as ‘tis certain the information I bear is some she would be very interested—and likely quite furious—to hear.

—Ambassador Layan Kaval

As you wish, Ambassador. I admit to some trepidation in presenting this information to you, worried it might hurt our nations’ new alliance or fatally wound our personal friendship. I am relieved it did not, though I confess to be given some pause when I saw a momentary gleam in your eye that I last remembered from one of our final wartime duels. I likewise know not of what you speak, though the knowledge that it somehow involves Fell Flight does give me at least one clue. Regardless of the answer, methinks it best to allow her to deal with and decide what to do about it.

As to why I finally elected to reveal this Equestrian dishonor, ‘twas brought about by the class discussion I mentioned in the previous entry. I decided I could not fairly discuss honor with them without fully disclosing my own dishonorable acts in the course of the war, of which I consider complicity in this cover-up to be a major example. I know not what can be done for them now so long after the fact, but ‘tis my most fervent hope that justice delayed, even for a matter of three decades, is not justice denied.

Unfortunately, methinks there is little else I can do about it for now except wait for the Kingdom’s response and what I assume to be Fell Flight’s inevitable explosion when she learns of what you speak. If you wish me present for it, I will be there.

—Firefly

He has already been in touch with me, Captain, and told me of what he speaks! I am appalled and infuriated at the sheer injustice of what he shared, to say nothing of the ripping open of an old wound!

As much as I may wish to, I cannot say more for now, except that I have a great deal of work to do to even partially rectify this terrible wrong! Unfortunately, it cannot begin in earnest until I receive the gryphon documentation promised to me. In the meantime, I request to pick up the pen again for the next section. I need the distraction from my anger and impatience, which I fear is spilling over into my home life as I find myself snapping at my foals and every member of my herd for no good reason.

You may recall that I was present as the thestrals greeted us on the forward deck, and that my eyes and mixed heritage made me a particular target of their ire. So methinks I will spend some of my own through the retelling of this scene.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
President, Society of Outpost Omega Survivors

By all means. Carry on, my friend. And I need not tell you that if you wish my help, you have it.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain. But before we begin, ‘tis a minor story I should relate. One regarding Sky Sentry, and one that, methinks, I would not bother with or barely remember but for the news delivered to me this day by the ambassador; news that has rekindled my fury at the ex-Empire anew.

I will keep it brief, however, as in honor of his memory and the battle bonds we shared—methinks I told him some things during our time together in the Bolt Knights that I never told anypony else—I would rather his future actions speak for him as much as possible.

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over middle Ohioat Province
120 miles north of Lake Luna on Thestralslovakian border
September 3rd, 1139 AC
1550 hours

Methinks I lasted longer than most of the battalion survivors in holding off sleep, having had plenty of experience not resting for days on end from my time at Outpost Omega.

But eventually, exhaustion caught up with me as well near daybreak that third morn of war, and I, too, slept long and hard when all was said and done, leaving command of Epsilon’s remaining effectives to our ranking unwounded platoon leader—Aves Osprey. Possessing more nocturnal habits, I went to bed at dawn and awoke to the ship’s middle afternoon departure, feeling it lurching and accelerating as we lifted off from Ursa base.

After a check-in with the commander and ship’s captain—who told me that with patrols already set, my services were not needed before our arrival—I decided ‘twas best to see to my own needs and help train the Naval troops, which we were doing in shifts on the topmost decks when they were not patrolling, eating or sleeping. The former took precedence over the latter, however, as my hunger got the best of me and I headed down to the ship’s galley to eat.

‘Twas sparsely attended as ‘twas away from normal mealtimes, but methinks I did not mind. The naval troops and crew, I had noted, were very wary around me for my eyes. ‘Twas certainly a reaction I was used to, but perchance not one I appreciated at an occasion I thought I might like some company.

Now that we had some distance from Epsilon and I’d had time to process the battles we’d fought there, I felt not anger, but sorrow and worry trying to take hold of me. Worry for my nation; for my family. Worry over not knowing the fate of my compatriots at Outpost Omega, who, I was informed by the bridge’s communications officer, Corps command had lost all contact with after nightfall on the first day of war and was presumed lost along with the rest of the border bases except for Gamma.

‘Twas a bitter pill to swallow no matter how expected it was, as well as the knowledge that we would never know Omega’s final hours or the toll they exacted. All I did know was that my promised command was gone and all my old comrades killed. And ‘twas also to say nothing of the still-unknown fate of my family at Cloudsdale, or my earth pony coltfriend in invaded and occupied Baltimare. The former I might learn shortly, given we were heading out in search of my foalhood home, but the latter…

Seeking some sanctuary from my own dark and brooding thoughts, I spotted Sky Sentry eating by himself in a corner, now wearing a borrowed naval uniform with his Guardspony Sergeant stripes affixed and picking at his meal—if I’d learned nothing else about Naval vessels to that point, ‘twas that their food was certainly several cuts above Outpost Epsilon fare; the double-helping of cloud creole I was balancing on a wing platter was sorely tempting me with its smell.

And yet, my hunger was forgotten as I beheld the only survivor of Outpost Delta. He looked slightly less haggard than he had the day before, perchance as a result of the Harmony-fueled song I had heard the previous night—‘twould be a lie to say that I had not been touched by it or joined in the chorus, as oddly embarrassing as it felt after—but he still looked uncertain, even given the undeniable answer he sought.

Warrior Heart

So much so, in fact, he did not hear the clop of my hooves as I approached. “Sergeant Sentry,” I addressed him, causing him to start and look up at me, then throw a hasty salute. “May I join you?”

He looked uncertain as I returned the gesture. “If you wish, Master Sergeant,” he replied, his voice dull, perchance deciding not to say anything as he had a lower rank and no authority to deny me anyway.

“Thank you.” I nodded and sat down opposite him, sliding my platter off onto the table before affixing a fork attachment to my hoof. “Forgive me if you are tired of hearing this, but I must ask: how fare you?”

“Lost,” he told me bluntly, leaving me wondering how he still could be after the song, at least until he shortly explained: “I know now what I must do. But...” At this he paused, his eyes resting on his mostly untouched food, as though hoping it might somehow miraculously have the answers to his dilemma. Clearly it did not, as he let out a weary sigh before continuing, “But I know not how to do it. How to rediscover my warrior heart,” he told me, then shook his head and bowed it. “Or even that I ever had one to begin with.”

“Tis certain you did and still do,” I told him sternly, suddenly seeing a reflection of my own conflicts within him; I felt compelled to remind myself that whatever I had lost, ‘twas pale in comparison to all that he had. “’Tis certain your many wounds and the conduct of the cavern battles are evidence enough of that. Methinks even the commander respects you, and ‘tis no little thing,” I quickly pointed out.

He barely reacted to the compliment, initially giving only a grunt in reply. “Mayhap you are right, and ‘twas a time that I would have been delighted by it,” he eventually answered dully. “But now? ‘Tis no longer important. I seek an inner fire but find only ashes. I have no desire to fight, for all those I would have fought for and beside have already fallen.”

“All of them?” I challenged. “You wouldst not fight for your foal? You wouldst not fight beside the commander, for as much as you desired her?”

He went startled at the former, then blushed at the latter as his eyes met mine briefly before he turned his gaze back down. “M-Master Sergeant, that’s not—” He looked flustered for a moment.

“Forgive me,” I told him with a disarming grin. “She once told me of your original challenge to her, and its terms. Be not embarrassed about it. For as much as I would have enjoyed seeing her lose it, methinks there were times she regretted winning as well, as she spoke almost wistfully of you when she recounted the tale. Methinks that for as well as you dueled her, she saw you as worthy of the Guard—and of her.”

“‘Tis certain I do not feel worthy now,” he told me, even as the fleeting ghost of a smile touched his face. “If I was, methinks I would not be falling to pieces at every opportunity and feeling unable to fight.”

“You are grieving, Sergeant,” I reminded him, surprising myself as I reached across the table to take his hoof in my own. “’Tis normal and natural. And very necessary. I cannot tell you how many comrades and friends I lost at Omega over the years. To say nothing of how many ‘tis certain I lost in the past two days,” I felt a sudden hitch in my voice, then swallowed it.

“But though I will remember and treasure them, I will not dwell on them. And the fact that they have fallen does not mean I can no longer fight for them. Far from it, in fact. I will honor their memories the only way I can—by fighting on in their names. By helping to win this war, and thus ensuring they did not fall in vain.”

“And is it really that easy?” he asked me, tears glimmering in his eyes again. “Just go on and fight for them like nothing happened? Like I didn’t see them all die before me whilst I was unable to save them?” His voice raised a little, the faintest hints of anger now entering his words for a moment before he exhaled a shaky breath.

I had to consider that. “Mayhap for me ‘tis indeed easier. For Omega was always a wartime post, even before the invasion,” I noted idly. “’Tis certain I lost many friends over the years there to raider action, oft slain before my eyes.”

“And do you ever think you should have died with them?” he asked me next, his anger once more gone, to which I could only close my eyes in response. “Fallen with all your friends?”

“Aye,” I admitted after a brief pause with a moment of pain. “Methinks had the war broken out but a week later, I would have indeed been there with them, commanding Omega against the invasion. But I am under no illusions, Sergeant—my presence ‘twould not have reversed the outcome against such skill or numbers as the gryphons had. ‘Tis certain I would have watched my command be slowly slaughtered before me until I, too, was claimed. Assuming, that is, that I did not fall earlier, as ‘tis never been my way to not be at the forefront of battle.”

“And how do you go on in the face of all that?” he asked me. “Knowing that your entire base is lost and all you knew and loved have perished?” His lip quivered briefly, his eyes staring into my own, a mixture of hope and defeat clear as day placed before me.

Giving Meaning

Methinks I’d never more felt like my mentor than at that moment. I looked to my hoof, still holding his, and then raised my eyes to meet his gaze once more, letting him see both the pain and resolution within them.

“Because ‘tis not all I knew and loved. Because I still have a nation and family—both here and in Cloudsdale—to fight for, to say nothing of a coltfriend I would die for. But even if ‘twas not the case, ’tis all I can do, Sergeant. Because ‘tis all the love and friendship I felt for my lost comrades would allow me to do, even were I not so inclined,” I told him fervently, giving his hoof another squeeze.

“To quit the fight in grief and sorrow gains us nothing, Sky Sentry. To give up the fight now means that they did die in vain. I will not allow that. Nor will I allow their deaths or the many gryphon crimes to go unanswered.”

“So you fight for vengeance?” he asked me earnestly. “Because even after all I witnessed, I do not believe I can do that.”

“No,” I told him firmly, remembering the words of my mentor as I scooped up some creole to raise to my muzzle, blinking when the taste hit me—‘twas better than any I’d had before! “And ‘tis just as well you cannot. Vengeance is a very dark sky to fly; Sergeant. One even my eyes cannot see in. I have already witnessed directly what it has done to others, and thus I will have no part of it. Kill in combat; kill to protect other ponies. But never give into vengeance or bloodlust.” I automatically echoed Thunderbolt’s words to me so many years earlier, when I was first seeking to join the Corps.

“If not vengeance, then what can I fight for?” he then asked forlornly, desperately, even. I realized he was in fact pleading with me to supply an answer he could accept for himself.

“Sergeant,” I began again, more sternly. “I’m sorry, but the question of who and what you can fight for is not one I can answer for you. ‘Tis different for everypony, and thus, ‘tis up to you to provide that answer. Mayhap ‘tis your foal to ensure he does not grow up to be enslaved or eaten?” Perchance was harsh, but it did get his attention as he visibly flinched. “Mayhap ‘tis his mother you still love and wish to provide for? Mayhap ‘tis the commander you admired and fancied? Or mayhap ‘tis the dead comrades whose legacy you wish to carry on?”

I let my words sink in before proceeding. “You seek meaning in their deaths, but in the end, the only meaning they have is what you can give them. And therefore, you must answer but one simple question before you can fight again, Sergeant:

“What meaning do you wish their sacrifice to have? And how can you best give it to them?” I asked directly as I scraped up more of my meal, vowing to return again for another helping before too long. “Answer that, and methinks you answer everything.”

He didn’t immediately reply, but his expression turned thoughtful for a moment, and then I saw the shadow of something approaching determination crossing his face. We stopped talking then, eating our meals in relative silence; I was gratified to see he suddenly seemed to have more of an appetite.

“Thank you for your time, Master Sergeant,” he eventually told me as we finished our food, getting up to return our dishes. “You have given me much to think about. Perchance I might be left alone now to consider what you have said.”

“No,” I told him again firmly as I slid my plate, mug, and hoof fork into a bin for cleaning. “You have brooded for long enough. Sergeant. ‘Tis certain we will be in action again soon, and you must start preparing yourself now! Mayhap you will find it easier if you help ready others for the trials ahead?” I suggested.

“But—”

“No buts! The Naval pegasi need to be whipped into shape, and whilst we have the time, ‘tis our job to do so! Now come with me, Sergeant!” I ordered in my most intimidating imitation of Windshear, who, ‘tis worth noting again, was my former commander at Omega as well as Sky Sentry’s former drill instructor. “I’m going topside to train them, and you are going to help!”

He looked startled, but obeyed instantly, being but six months out of basic and perchance remembering keenly being yelled at by Windshear as he was. “Yes, ma’am! Coming, ma’am!” he said obediently, following me out the door.

Methinks I was unaware that you had spoken to him, First Lieutenant, but I can find no fault in what you said. You are absolutely correct in that the deaths of soldiers have no meaning except for what we can give them, and that we each fight for something different, whether ‘tis friends, family, or like yourself, a simple desire for acceptance. I oft wondered what had changed when I next saw him, and ‘twould seem ‘twas his chat with you. For that I thank you, for we would indeed be needing him in the days and weeks ahead.

—Firefly

You are welcome, Captain, though in the end, ‘tis certain I simply told him what I knew to be true. Methinks I was mayhap too blunt at times, but ‘twas not the time to coddle him, given what lay ahead…

Which included what initially promised to be a battle with my future bat-pony brethren we were unlikely to survive.

—Fell Flight

Standoff

EAS Loyalty
North Shore of Lake Luna
September 3rd, 1139 AC
1842 hours

After all our battles, and all my anger at the gryphons over the past few days, methinks it paled in comparison to the sheer rage I felt as I stood to the right of the commander and Captain Shady on the forward observation deck. ‘Tis certain I was seething from the sheer disrespect shown to not just my comrades, but myself. I had thought that I had experienced the worst of bigotry from full-blooded ponies, but an education was shortly to follow on how vicious the other part of my ancestry could be.

“I am Colonel Aegir Ale of the Nightborne Army. You are in violation of the border, Equestrians,” she warned us in a noticeable Romareian accent, pointedly ignoring me after an initial glance and sneer.

“For which we apologize, but be assured our intentions are peaceful,” Shady replied in placating tones, leaving me in admiration that she could keep a level head and voice in such circumstances as the thestrals were presenting her with. “I am Captain—”

“We know who you are,” the Nightborne commander cut her off, and then her eyes passed over me again; I could read easily the contempt and disgust in them as she recognized my hybrid blood, which was already starting to boil. “And ‘tis not important. All that matters is that you are now in thestral lands, in violation of our sovereignty settlement with your Princess! For breaking the treaty and invading our territory, you are ordered to set down your ship in Lake Luna and surrender yourselves immediately to our custody…”

Captain Shady’s eyes narrowed, and her manner instantly turned ice cold. “Do you really expect me to agree to those terms, which, despite your claims, are in direct violation of our treaty?”

“By coming here with a fully armed warship, you are an invader, not a diplomat! So do not speak to me of treaties!”

“Even if that treaty directly allows for free passage of Equestrian forces in time of war?” Shady arched an eyeridge.

“You may be at war, but we are not! Now surrender your ship, Captain! You have thirty seconds to comply!” she ordered again, her hoof reaching for some form of gem.

“I do not even require one, Colonel!” Shady answered in the same imperious tone. “The answer is no!”

“Captain…” A twitch in her cat-eye betrayed a moment of nervousness from Aegir Ale, and I believe ‘twas then I saw the game that was playing out and realized what was happening. “Think of your crew. Are they ready to die with you in a battle you cannot win?” she appealed to us as well as the Captain.

Shady looked to all of us, asking each of the same unspoken question in turn and receiving nods and sneers back. “Methinks the better question is, are you?” she countered cooly. “Are you ready to throw away your own lives over such a blatant and obvious falsehood?”

The Colonel flared her broad bat-pony wings in what I perchance instinctively recognized as a dominance display. “You are in no position to make threats, Captain Shady! Now surrender your command before I am forced to—”

“Enough!” I spoke up for the first time, having had all I could stomach of the proceedings. “This farce has gone on long enough, Colonel! I have been in enough battles to recognize a force that does not wishto fight, and a commander who dreads the outcome! So perchance you might dispense with this aggressive pretense and cease your threats before you foalishly get yourselves and everypony else killed?”

“Silence, you mischling Highborne!” Aegir Ale addressed me directly for the first time by a known slur against my mixed heritage, all but spitting out the words. “You will speak only when spoken to!”

I hissed back, lowering my head and showing my fangs. “I have a name and rank, Nightborne!” I answered in the same vein, having only learned of the two thestral factions and their mutual hatred that very day. “’Tis Master Sergeant Fell Flight! And I will speak whenever I see fit! ’Tis we, and not you, in control of the situation this day!”

She gave me another contemptuous look before turning to the captain. “So, are you going to let such ill-tempered and unworthy subordinates escalate matters further, Captain?” the Colonel challenged Shady next.

“I perchance wouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but my Corps comrade is reading the situation correctly,” Shady said with a knowing nod. “As you did not ambush us at the start, when you might have taken us by surprise and stormed us successfully, you clearly do not want a battle, and are simply trying to bluster your way into winning without one!” she said to knowing nods from Firefly and Cutlass Cleave. “You are convincing nopony, Colonel, so as the Master Sergeant says, I suggest you stand your forces down before a battle begins on accident.”

The Nightborne Colonel carefully schooled her expression before contorting it into a sneer again. “If you believe that this is a bluff, perchance I should simply slay one or two of your soldiers to make my intentions clear?” she suggested with a nod off to her side, where crossbows were raised to no immediate response from us, as we recognized it for the empty threat it was. “You are correct that I would rather it not come to that, but make no mistake, Captain—my resolve is real!”

“Is it now?” Shady gave a dismissive wave of her hoof. The Mare at Arms reacted instantly to the signal, slowly and deliberately drawing her crossbow on the thestrals, beading her iron sight on their commander. “I think we both know that’s not true, Colonel. For what you’re saying simply doesn’t make any sense.”

“How dare you…”

“But you know what does makes sense to me, Aegir Ale?” Shady asked in a rhetorical tone, looking and sounding to me like she felt in complete control of the situation despite the threat she was under. “That you heard our approach and called back for instructions, but you either received none and tried to improvise, or—far more likely—you were told to do the impossible: capture our ship without a fight.

“You’ve been ignoring our hails all day and methinks it doesn’t take a scrying spell to see the situation you’ve found yourself in. At a guess, your nation’s leadership hoped to use the Loyalty and her crew to gain leverage over the two sides—a hope that becomes impossible if she is taken by force with crew slain, given that would be an act of war that puts you firmly in the gryphon camp.”

Shady allowed herself a smile as she read the thestral’s stiff body language, which betrayed her considerable distress. “So that’s it, isn’t it? Your leaders thought you could take the Loyalty as a prize to curry future favor with the gryphons? Or alternately, they might ransom her back to Equestria in exchange for concessions like being allowed to stay out of the war,” she recited easily, and the tightening of the Colonel’s lips told us all the Captain’s guesses were indeed striking very close to the mark.

“Unfortunately for you, there is a fatal flaw in such wishful thinking—I see through your scheme and I’m not buying your bluff,” she told the other mare.

“Enough!” Aegir Ale’s hoof shot towards her belt again as she tapped a crystal on it twice, causing an immediate eruption of activity outside as her forces drew their weapons; my eyes could pick out that they were in fact donning what looked like double-bladed hoofstrikers in lieu of the wingblades their membrane wings simply could not wield. “If you think I am bluffing, I suggest you think again!”

Shady reacted instantly to the threat. “Tailwind! Dusk Dazzle!” she shouted into her gem, and instantly the ballonet defenses crackled to life above us, but only at quarter-power—enough to let the thestrals know of its presence and feel its threatening electrical charge, even though ‘twas not enough power behind it to start striking them down—unless, that was, they landed directly on the dirigible balloons.

Simultaneously, the area behind us shimmered to drop a magical shroud. Its absence revealed a half-dozen naval unicorns with longbows drawn, arrows aimed directly at Aegir Ale and her escorts. And worse for them, before the thestrals could make a move, a shield curtain dropped down behind them, cutting off their path of retreat—‘twas a gift from a still-recovering Still Way, who had shown the ship security teams how to apply remote shields over portals and hatches for additional defense, turning the ship into a nearly impenetrable redoubt until the spells were defeated or spent.

“Your move, Colonel,” Shady stated slyly as Cutlass Cleave drew her namesake and the Commander and I deployed our wingblades; the Captain herself rearing up to wield her saber in an odd upright manner. “Order an attack if you wish. But do not expect an easy fight or victory!”

Aegir Ale bared her pointed teeth, though her fractionally lowered ears betrayed her fear as, to our surprise, her escorting troops somehow popped out the bolts from their unfired crossbows—unlike ours, they were reloadable!—and swapped them with different ones from their belts; I caught the glint of their crystal tips and guessed they were designed to defeat spells or magical shields. “Easy or no, you know not our weapons or how we fight! We can defeat your defenses and you will not survive our attack!” the visibly flustered Colonel claimed, her slitted eyes darting back and forth at the longbows leveled at her as her equally trapped escorts likewise aimed their reloaded crossbows back, their sights focused directly on Shady.

“You will not survive ours!” Shady rejoined instantly with a smug smile, one that left me in admiration anew of her for the size of her figurative apples and fearlessness in the face of the lethal threats. She then ordered the ballonet defenses increased to one-third power, causing the first sparks to begin reaching outwards from its surface towards thestral soldiers flying too close, menacing but not quite reaching them as they darted away with audible shouts of alarm. “So what will it be, Colonel? Shall we die together over a failed bluff that will result in war between Thestralslovakia and Equestria?

“Or shall we settle our differences in a civilized manner, negotiating our departure and the disposition of Cloudsdale over fruit and fish?” We had actually laid in a supply of it from the Lunar Sea before departing, mostly for Gavian (and, I hoped, myself) but also for allowing us some means to offer the thestrals a modicum of hospitality.

Hospitality I hardly felt they deserved at this point, but ‘twas why I was a soldier and not a diplomat.

“Stand down!” a defeated Aegir Ale finally shouted into her gem, to receive both relieved and disappointed acknowledgements back. “All squads withdraw to 500 yards!” she further instructed, waiting until her orders were carried out and weapons were sheathed on both sides before speaking again.

“Very well, Captain. You win. We do not wish war with either side, but you wouldst understand that your presence here might give the gryphons cause to believe that we have already sided with you just when they have reached our eastern borders,” she pointed out somewhat ruefully, and for the first time, I sensed I was hearing the truth from her. “And thus, I was ordered to, as you say, attempt the impossible—take your ship without bloodshed.”

“And you actually thought you could do it?” Firefly asked derisively.

Aegir Ale’s expression turned angry. “Whether I thought I could do it was irrelevant, pegasus. Such were my orders and ‘twas my duty to carry them out,” she added, all but telling us she neither believed she could nor liked her instructions in the least. “In any event, I am but a soldier in command of a regiment. I am not authorized to negotiate anything on behalf of Thestralslovakia entire.”

“Perchance not, but I do expect you to forward our requests to your superiors, and explain that we seek only to make contact with Cloudsdale and escort them away,” Shady pointed out. “Do so, and you may maintain your precious neutrality for a short time, at least—though I remind you again that the very same sovereignty settlement you so haughtily cited before also requires your nation to help defend Equestria in the event of invasion.”

“’Tis not my choice to make, Captain,” Aegir Ale answered carefully. “I will… convey your words to my superiors, but I respectfully request that you withdraw from our territory for now. And before you ask, be assured Cloudsdale is here by choice. They requested our aid and sanctuary, which we granted. But we dare not let word of that out lest the gryphons learn of it, and the only way to keep the city hidden is to bury it within the deepest mountain mists!”

“You wouldst forgive me if I wish to hear that from them,” Shady replied evenly, her counterpart now studiously avoiding my eyes. “Our orders were to locate and reestablish contact with the city. And to that end, I wish to be taken to them.”

“I will convey that wish as well,” Aegir Ale replied in resignation. “You will be informed when I receive a response. Now kindly withdraw from our territory, Captain, before you are seen by gryphon spies.”

Such was our first encounter with thestral soldiers, and with the mutual brinksponyship being practiced, ‘tis still amazing to me that we did not end up in a fight that ultimately, neither side would win.

In hindsight, they were in a very difficult position at that point, one our presence potentially worsened, but I still cannot fathom the thinking behind believing that they could intimidate us into giving up our ship!

Their Colonel did her best given the idiotic orders she received, but in the end, ‘twas all for naught, thanks in large part to Captain Shady, who I came to admire immensely for her magnificently unflinching performance during that improvised parley. At a time when any weakness might have been exploited and made conflict more likely, she showed none.

In any event, Captain, I must now give up the quill, as the first batches of documentation have arrived from the ambassador. Methinks Osprey and I now have a great deal of material to review, and then we must decide what to do about it.

And by “we,” I mean not just myself and Osprey, but all Omega veterans!

—Fell Flight

I understand, old friend, and offer again any aid you need. You are absolutely correct that their orders were nigh-impossible to carry out, but she did her best under the circumstances. I would not have wished to be in her place, and ‘tis worth noting that she had to place herself in grave danger as well to attempt to fulfill her instructions. A coward Aegir Ale was not; though I can hardly say the same for the one who gave her those orders.

—Firefly

‘Tis certain you are in no mood to speak to me right now, but as I read over this account, I must offer my congratulations to both you and then-Captain Shady, First Lieutenant. ‘Twas an absolutely unflinching performance in the face of a situation where to show any weakness could have been disastrous, and I commend Captain Shady for an excellent example of how parleys should be conducted in the face of a bellicose and belligerent enemy—from a position of strength.

‘Tis a lesson we oft teach ourselves in both diplomacy and battlefield negotiations—that if a real or potential adversary demands something of you, ‘tis because they either cannot or simply will not force you to give it up. And thus, the advantage is yours for having something they desperately wish to divest you of, enabling you to dictate terms right back.

Unfortunately, the current situation is not one where either side can dictate to the other, for neither side is clean. The exchange of information about mutually dishonorable acts has the potential to reopen old war wounds, as I fear ‘tis already done with Fell Flight and ‘tis certain will do with the gryphon side, particularly the Kingdom’s Navy.

But as there is little I can do about that for now, I will resume my story of the gryphon side of war, and in so doing, perchance explain what has the former first officer of Outpost Omega so upset.

—Ambassador Layan Kaval

A Night’s Respite

Occupied Mareasses
7th Talon Legion HQ
September 4th, 1139 AC
0830 hours

The Prelate, Primarch and I departed back for Raptor base somewhat later than expected the following morning.

As no messages had been received that were particularly pressing—the rapid reorganization of frontline legions the Prelate had ordered was proceeding with few issues, and the advance would resume as scheduled at dawn the following day—I allowed Salvio Gaius to sleep in to the disgust of Primarch Junius, who had little nice to say when the Prelate finally emerged with the newly-minted sub-Consul Romelus, whose face was all but aglow.

Methinks ‘twas not just from eagerness to take over her new command, but more due to the series of slashes and blade marks on her face from what could only have been multiple mating rounds—ritual tests of combat worthiness that precede more intimate affairs between gryphons—that had ended in their mutual pleasure and benefit.

To her credit, the Prelate had an array of his own wounds, and knowing from experience how difficult ‘twas to land a blow on him, it meant the sub-Consul was nearly his equal in warrior skill. “‘Tis not necessary,” he said as he waved off my offer to get a Magus healer when we returned to his sky carriage. “They are but scratches. Marks of affection to be warn proudly,” he said with a knowing glance at Urban Romelus, who beamed back.

“So, you have not only failed to follow up on a successful advance, but engaged in fraternization with subordinates, Prelate?” the Primarch asked disdainfully as he boarded his sky carriage, having had little to do but stomp around Mareasses all night and inspect the former Legate’s soldiers, looking for anything—a dissenting voice or a headfeather not cut short enough—she could use against them.

That she had failed had not helped her mood, finding that both Romelus and Gaius were beloved amongst the 7th Legion rank and file, the pair having led them from one victory to another in the course of multiple campaigns.

“What fraternization?” Gaius answered in perfect innocence, in too good a mood to be bothered by her. “I simply availed myself of the hospitality any subordinate would offer their superior. And ‘tis certain I found it much to my liking.” He closed his eyes and smiled.

“And mine as well,” Romelus added with an identical expression as she took her place with the cordon of outside flyers—though she’d been offered a seat in the sky carriage, she resolved she would make the journey north on the strength of her sky gryphon wings to start getting used to the additional weight of her newest armor.

“And I am offended, Primarch, that you think that I would do anything that would violate the Empire’s strict rules against such indecencies! Certainly, my loyal soldiers heard no such things as you imply!” she said with a glance back at her headquarters sentries, who all grinned conspiratorially.

I couldn’t help but smile at the exchange and the Primarch’s impotent sputtering in response. And yet, I also couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness and envy. For whatever they had shared was simply not something I could have. Not for my station, but for the simple reason that I had no equal as a warrior, and thus, there was no eagless I could fight who could even begin to stimulate me.

‘Twas a point of immense frustration that I had finally come to terms with after a few failed attempts. Methinks I finally decided that if ‘twas simply my lot in life to be unequalled and thus unable to feel the passion due to a worthy partner, ‘twould be gladly accepted if my otherworldly combat abilities could serve the Empire in other ways.

The Primarch fell silent for once. The best she’d been able to do during her interviews with the 7th Legion soldiers was elicit some disappointment when she told them they would not be allowed to continue their advance into bat-pony lands. But when she’d tried to use that against the Prelate, he’d immediately and sharply reprimanded her for spilling information that had not yet been disseminated to the lower ranks.

“Consider yourself fortunate that I am in a good mood, and that I do not consider that leak dangerous to our efforts, Primarch. Even if this somehow gets back to the bat-ponies, methinks it might actually reassure them that we are not planning to invade them and thus make them more amenable to our overtures,” he told her easily before his eyes narrowed.

“But were it otherwise, know that I would not hesitate to throw you in irons for the potential leak of war strategy,” he warned her. “Be assured that I will be reporting your indiscretion to the Empress, so I suggest you tread far more carefully in trying to find something to discredit me before her.”

With those words, he approached the Primarch and went nose to nose with her. “For the moment I feel you have endangered our invasion—or even a lesser operation—is the moment I will no longer tolerate those efforts. Or your presence, regardless of the Empress’ favor.” He never raised his voice, but the threat that underlay his words ‘twas heard loud and clear. “Is this understood?”

“Yes, Prelate. It will not happen again,” she grated out through a clenched beak, but said no more, perchance recognizing she’d overstepped. She then sketched him a salute and bared her throat to him before boarding the carriage behind him.

The Fate of Omega

Though I normally would have flown outside to be the Prelate’s bodyguard, ‘twas my role as his adjutant and most trusted advisor the Prelate wished of me now. And thus, as he was already behind a thick cordon of aerial guards, I spent the entirety of the trip inside the cramped confines of the carriage, which was built far more for defense than creature comforts, armored and enchanted against everything from a lightning strike to a bombardment from naval ballistae.

With the northern and southern fronts attended to for the time being, ‘twas time to turn his attention back to the center. As he reviewed the slew of reports I had saved for him whilst he… slept, he came to the reports regarding the assault on Outpost Omega and the nearby Equestrian Army bases, each guarding a single settlement and which were collectively known to the pony side as Outpost Black.

“Over two millennia of casualties suffered in subduing Omega and the nearby Army bases…” he noted in some disgust as he read the reports of the 28th Talon Legion. “Not as bad as at Epsilon, but still unacceptable. And worse, ‘twould appear losses among the commanders and Fortis Knights were particularly heavy, including six Centurions and two of ten sub-Tribunes dead.” He shook his head.

“So once again, you fail to anticipate the severity of pony resistance, and once again, our forces suffered heavily because of it. So are you going to pass blame by relieving that legion commander, too? Or perchance you will just sleep with her instead?” Livia suggested with a sneer.

The Prelate pointedly ignored her, as did I. “What is your opinion of the matter, Tribune?” he asked of me.

“After considerable study of the available after-action reports, I cannot find fault with Legate Magna, My Lord,” I answered as I reviewed the report scrolls along with him. “Unlike at Epsilon, there are no glaring tactical errors to point to in the conduct of her command. Given its exposed location and the fact that both it and the settlements it defended were a favorite target of raider attacks, Omega was a fortress garrisoned by some of the best and most veteran Aerial Corps soldiers they had, and thus ‘twas very difficult to reduce.”

“As were the army bases, it seems,” the Prelate concurred. “Our original assault plan called to strike Omega and the three Black bases with heavy weapons from range, and to only follow up with Talons once they were sufficiently reduced. But due to short notice, the Legate had no heavy weapons to work with. So, even with Knight support, the battle ‘twas reduced to an infantry fight that greatly favored defense, which was then taken advantage of by both the Omega pegasi and the Outpost Black army troops.”

“I fear you are correct, My Lord. And to that end… ‘twould seem the Corps soldiers fought back to back with the Equestrian Army to very good effect.” I passed him another report scroll. “In fact, in the words of a centurion, ‘they fought like demons’ and refused multiple surrender demands, using their base bunkers and tunnels they’d dug between their outposts to great advantage. The two services covered for each other’s weaknesses effectively, and it made them very difficult to dislodge. ‘Twould also seem they successfully pulled off some surprise counterattacks, to our considerable cost.”

“The same as with Gamma…” The Prelate took the report and scanned it quickly, then frowned. “In other words, there was coordination between the Army and Aerial Corps, who engaged in combined arms warfare—something their insular services showed no skill at before now,” he noted as he shook his head.

“’Twould be problematic if they should master that art quickly... which they would try to do if they learned how well the two services fought together here. We cannot allow that, nor can we allow them to make martyrs out of Omega or Outpost Black for a heroic stand. ‘Tis certain they will already be ‘making hay’ out of Epsilon’s escape, but we can destroy its luster by destroying the Naval group responsible. For this battle, however... they know nothing, so ‘twould be best to suppress all information about it.”

“I’m sorry. And what was that during the bunker battle about honoring enemy valor?” the Primarch immediately pointed out with a smirk. “So much for such idiotic sentiments, though methinks I’m hardly disappointed that you finally came to your senses over it.”

For the first time that morning, Salvio Gaius looked annoyed, his tail twitching in agitation, and I have no doubt he gave his next instructions for the express purpose of defying her. “Tribune—draw up an order for the Owls to search the rubble of Omega and gather as much intelligence as they can, with emphasis on preserving any personal effects or combat reports they can find,” he told me. “They are then to collect them, and bury them as deeply as possible until the time is right. Outpost Omega is indeed worthy of honor. We may not be able to grant it now, but we will attempt to do so later, when the war is won.”

“By your command, it will be done,” I said with a bared throat. “But what about the casualty reports? Equestrian intelligence may be able to glean what happened from them.”

“For now, we must suppress them,” he further ordered. “As far as the Equestrians know, Omega simply fell along with the rest of the border bases, and ‘tis there it must stay in their minds. Though I find this action distasteful, we simply cannot let them have heroes or rallying points, and methinks Outposts Black and Omega would become both if the truth were known...”

As I did indeed carry out these orders, I can only offer you my sincerest apologies for them now, First Lieutenant. ‘Twas war, and not something I even thought about much at the time, aside from some momentary unease and perchance my first moment of at-least fleeting doubt that our course was entirely honorable.

I do not ask for your forgiveness, and I know you well enough to realize that you are unlikely to give it. All I can do now is offer up those same personal effects and documents the Owls cached in expectation of our eventual victory, and our side being finally able to recognize Omega’s efforts against us properly.

—Layan Kaval

After a day or more of considering what I have learned and reading through the surprisingly voluminous documentation you gave me, I find myself feeling more spent than angry, having forced myself to read through countless battle reports and personal letters containing declarations of friendship and love as well as vows to never surrender.

Worst of all, however, was the final report from the commander I was going to replace, Sky Sergeant Stratofortress. It contained a long list of citations for her faltering force and ended with her wondering if she had in fact lived up to the legacy of Omega, apologizing to me personally for not being able to save the base and living to see me take command.

‘Tis been hard, and my ire has left me… for now. I understand better now why such orders were issued from your side, and as the Captain says, ‘twould be a lie to say we were any better about such things. In fact, ‘tis quite possible our offenses were even more egregious when all was said and done.

I cannot say I forgive you at this moment, but I will be in touch with you again later, Ambassador, once I—and Osprey and the rest of the surviving Omega veterans—have decided what to do. But for now, I will take a much-needed respite from my emotionally draining work and pen the final section of this chapter.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral High Emissary
Thestral Conclave
Canterlot

Terms of Passage

EAS Loyalty
Just north of Lake Luna on Thestralslovakian border
September 3rd, 1139 AC
2345 hours

“… and thus, by order of Viceroy Chardonnay with the approval of the Lunar Council, the EAS Loyalty has been granted permission to enter our territory to reach Cloudsdale,” Colonel Aegir Ale informed us not long after midnight, reciting her orders from a freshly-delivered scroll in the Captain’s conference room, whose lights had been significantly lowered.

She had shown up alone this time under flag of truce with but a single aide wearing the stripes of a Corporal, a thestral stallion who stayed silent but clearly was listening closely to the proceedings. “But we request you wait until two hours before daybreak, when the mountain mists will be at their thickest. This will hide your crossing of the border.”

“I thank the council for their consideration,” Shady answered somewhat dryly, knowing well that by the terms of the Sovereignty Settlement, they could not actually deny us permission, but as we needed their cooperation, she let it pass.

“Good,” Aegir Ale replied, still pointedly ignoring me except for a single glower when she arrived. “But I am required to escort you, and you will follow the path we set, through the mists. Be mindful as well that we do not wish any display of force, and to that end, all cannon ports are to be closed and all weapons are to be stowed.”

Shady’s eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not. I will not have my ship or its crew gelded for passage through potentially hostile airspace, Colonel,” she warned. “I will follow the course you set, but we will go in at general quarters with weapons at the ready, and be assured we will respond to any move by your forces we perceive as threatening.”

“I offer you my personal assurance of safe passage, Captain Shady, and my presence on your bridge during it. You do not trust us?”

“Wouldst you?” Shady asked her pointedly before I could, though I couldn’t quite restrain the roll of my eyes. “Your presence is not enough, Colonel Aegir Ale. You have already admitted to orders to seize our ship, and I would be remiss to not take precautions in case this is simply another ruse to do so.”

“‘Tis not a trick, Captain,” the Nightborne commander said again in some exasperation, her eyes glowing softly in the low light of the candles at the table. “I give you my word.”

“You’ll forgive me if I feel your word is insufficient where the safety of my ship and crew are concerned, Colonel. So allow me to make this very clear—we are going to Cloudsdale, and we will arrive by dawn,” Shady spelled it out from the other side of the table. “Our patience to this point has been exemplary, but time runs short, and I will not agree to any conditions that are both in violation of the treaty, and potentially endanger my ship. To that end, I remind you again that your so-called Lunar Council has no actual right to forbid our passage, and our waiting for their approval has simply been a courtesy.”

“Captain…” Aegir Ale looked away with a clenched jaw and I saw a frown on the face of her subordinate. “If I report that to my superiors, then treaty or no, they will almost certainly forbid your passage! And worse, ‘tis certain they will order us to engage you should you attempt to reach Cloudsdale anyway!”

“Then for all our sakes, do not report it,” Firefly spoke up for the first time, her voice level. “You strike me as a good soldier, Colonel, who is trying to do right by her nation and orders—even when ‘tis abundantly clear you do not agree with them. But we have our orders as well. And you must know that by keeping us from Cloudsdale with deliberately unacceptable terms, you are making conflict more likely, not less.”

“And what wouldst you have me do, Master Sergeant?” she challenged with a glance at her compatriot, who looked decidedly angry at the direction the conversation had gone. “Disobey orders?”

“No. But perchance, like before, they simply could not be carried out,” the commander suggested easily. “Perchance by the time you returned to deliver our refusal and await new instructions, we were already gone. Slipped away into the unusually thick mists. Ones generated by our pegasi to mask our approach.” She arched an eyeridge.

“Go on…?” the thestral colonel invited whilst her subordinate’s sneer turned to surprise.

“You could hardly be blamed for such a thing, as we gave no warning and simply moved silently and without permission once we were hidden. You launched an immediate search, of course. But by the time you found us ten minutes later, we had already arrived at Cloudsdale. There was nothing that could then be done without attacking us in full view of its pegasi.”

“Do you honestly expect us to do such a—” the Nightborne Corporal began to say, only to stop at an upraised and flared bat-wing from the Colonel; I believe ‘twas only then I fully noticed their wing claws and wondered how they might be used.

“And how long would it take you to generate this mist?” she asked abruptly.

“I am no expert, but twenty minutes should suffice?” Firefly said with a glance at me. “I believe we have enough surviving members of our weather teams to do it.”

“I’m sure Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt would be more than happy to direct both the battalion and the Loyalty’s air wing in the task, ma’am,” I suggested helpfully. “I am no expert either, but with a humid enough environment and some extra updrafts, methinks it could be accomplished quickly.”

The Colonel nodded slowly, even though she still refused to look at me. “‘Twill take me ten minutes to return to base, and another five to send a communication. Perchance if I send word that you have agreed to these terms and order my forces to the designated crossing point to meet you, they will be less alert and not notice your efforts to make more mists from distance. Or I can say I requested that you do so in order to further mask your approach.”

“Colonel, with all due respect, what in the name of Luna are you doing?” her adjudant asked. “Ponies and gryphons are more than enough for us to deal with, but you wouldst see us make enemies of our own side!”

“As you were, Corporal,” she grated out through clenched and visibly sharp teeth. “What I am doing is attempting to prevent a conflict from being caused by Major General Muscadine’s idiotic orders. ‘Tis no doubt in my mind that he wishes a war, and I have only his word that these instructions in fact come from the Lunar Council,” she spelled it out, causing the rest of us to glance at each other. “I do not trust him, and neither should you!”

Duty or Honor

The Corporal hissed sharply and took flight into a hover, raising his wrist-mounted crossbows to level at her head. The launcher arms sprung to the sides from their sheathed position and came under audible tension with one loaded bolt pointed at his superior and the other at Captain Shady, though ‘twas the former who kept the bulk of his attention. “Colonel, this is treason! And I will not allow you to—” he stopped as weapons were drawn on our side; wingblades deployed and unicorn guards leveling their longbows.

“Hold!” Shady called back instantly, then turned her attention on the thestral adjutant, eerily unconcerned by the bolt pointed her way. “You are not in command of either side of this situation, Corporal. So I suggest you lower your weapons immediately.”

“Don’t be a foal, Corporal Zodiac,” Aegir Ale told him carefully but quickly, an edge to her voice as she found a loaded crossbow pointed at her ear from her own subordinate. “Your actions gain us nothing! I am not engaging in treason, but acting to defuse a difficult situation in the face of idiotic orders! I am trying to do what is in the best interests of both sides!”

“‘Tis not your place to decide!” he retorted.

“‘Tis not yours either!” I retaliated and stepped forward on the left side of the conference table as Firefly did the same on the right.

“Stay back!” the thestral stallion ordered us through bared teeth and a sharp hiss, the lowered tufts of his thickly-furred ears betraying his fear as he swept his second crossbow back and forth whilst keeping his first trained on his superior. “Now order your forces to let us leave, Captain!”

“I will not,” Shady replied evenly as she stood up. “You are not leaving this ship, Corporal.”

“Yes we are! For if we fail to return, ‘twill be presumed that we were captured through an act of Equestrian treachery—which ‘tis in fact all I have heard here tonight!” he promised.

“Now stand aside! We will exit through that window, and I will escort the Colonel back with me, where I will report what happened here! She will be charged with treason, and ‘tis certain that you will be forever denied entry to our fatherland!” he proclaimed slightly shrilly, a glint of sweat suddenly appearing on his forehead, beading up through his fur as Aegir Ale sat stiffly. “Now on your hooves, Colonel! I am placing you under arrest!”

“Methinks not. Firesight!” Shady then issued the coded command, which cued her unicorn guards to cast strobelight spells; they dazzled our guests and forced them to look away with cries of pain. I was unaffected, of course, thanks to my implanted crystal lenses, and took immediate advantage, darting in to sweep the Corporal’s nearest foreleg up and away from the Colonel whilst simultaneously slamming him into a wall. Firefly did her part as well, tackling the thestral commander to shield her with her Guardspony armor from a launched arrow.

‘Twould not be necessary. Either by accident or desperate design, both crossbow bolts fired but the shots went wild, with one bolt impacting the opposite wall, surprising me by erupting with choking smoke whilst the other went into the ceiling with a series of arcing electrical sparks like a shock gem.

Though surprised at the sophistication of their arms, I slammed him hard against a bulkhead. When I did, I quickly realized that the bat-ponies were in fact lighter for the same size than pegasi, meaning I could pin him easily with my own weight.

His watering eyes focused on me with some difficulty; enough to finally recognize me. “Gah! Let me go, you bucking Highborne half-br—!” He didn’t finish before I socked him in the jaw, knocking him cold, and methinks my blow felt far better than it should have for the fact I was striking a stallion.

“My sincerest apologies for the light show, Colonel,” Shady said as she trotted over and helped her counterpart to her hooves, trying not to cough from the thick fume that was making all our throats raw and eyes sting. As she spoke, the unconscious Corporal was slapped in irons and special Thestral-quality wing restraints whilst the windows were opened to vent the smoke, helped along by a gust of wind from Firefly. “And excellent work, Master Sergeant.” She turned to me next.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” I said as I dusted myself off and threw his removed weapons onto the table—two crossbows of unique design plus a belt of bolts for them and a pair of curious double-bladed hoofstrikers, supplemented by what appeared to be a small personal backup blade.

“I suppose I should thank you. But how were you not blinded?” a still-blinking and sweating Aegir Ale asked me, to which I grinned and plucked a firegem from its wall sconce, igniting it and bringing it up to the right side of my head as I held it in a hoof.

“Crystal lens implants,” I told her as I slowly turned up its intensity. The raised light level caused the sapphire lens that overlay my right eye to gradually turn an opaque blue, and my iris beneath it from nearly its original gold to a deep green whilst the other remained unchanged, giving my eyes a two-tone appearance in a party trick I used occasionally. “They filter light and allow me to function equally well in both night and day. They react instantly to any change in illumination, and thus, they prevent me from being blinded by sudden flashes.”

“Impressive…” the Colonel granted somewhat grudgingly. “I thank you all for your efforts on my behalf. Though I fear this complicates matters greatly,” she noted with a glance back at her unconscious subordinate being dragged out the door to the brig.

“Perchance it need not,” Firefly suggested as she finished venting the room and closed the window. “You can still return and make your report. Just say that he volunteered to stay behind as a token of good faith in our agreement.”

Aegir Ale thought about that, only to finally shake her head. “No…” she eventually decided with a defeated air. “No. He is right and that if we do not both return as per instructions, suspicions will be raised. I fear I will face immediate relief—if not arrest—as the Major General suspects me to be a pony sympathizer for my earlier failure. And even if everything goes well, you wouldst still have to return him later, and the outcome is the same. So we will both stay here. And I will take you in,” she promised.

The Captain was visibly startled by that. “Are you sure, Colonel?”

“No. But I see no other way to resolve this matter peacefully in the face of my orders, regardless of who issued them.” She squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a moment, but when she opened them again, there was resolution in her cat-eyed gaze. “Time is pressing and I am due back to make my report in half an hour. So let us not tarry! Lay your mists, Captain, and I will guide you to Cloudsdale immediately.”

Shady looked genuinely touched by the gesture, and I cannot say that I was any less impressed. “‘Tis a very honorable thing to do, Colonel. Your actions and willingness to act in the interest of both sides will be remembered.”

“You are welcome. But Captain…?” she further asked as she finished blinking her eyes clear.

“Yes?”

“As ‘tis certain there will be calls for my head after this, I may wish to seek asylum with you later.”

“And for such a sterling display of honor, ‘twill be my pleasure to grant it,” Shady promised with a grave but respectful nod. “Now let us see to laying that mist...”

“Honor is simply the morality of superior men.” —H.L. Mencken

Author's Note

All prereads in and songs selected, so you’re getting this chapter a couple days early. As you can see, there is intrigue afoot in the thestral ranks, and you’ll learn more about those in the next chapter as the Loyalty finally makes its way to Cloudsdale. What will they find there? And what will happen with Colonel Aegir Ale? Answers in the next chapter, where I have several reunions and a very special scene planned. On that score, if you want to know who the biggest badass in the Equestrian military actually is, that scene will provide the answer! Hint: It’s not who you think!

Thanks as usual go to prereaders AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, Silentwoodfire, and Leo Archon. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and for American readers have a very good Thanksgiving!

PS: For those who are curious, some of the Shady/Aegir Ale scenes were inspired by this classic sequence of Picard owning a Romulan commander from Star Trek: The Next Generation:

Rally and Recover: 6 - Infiltrator

Dear readers—

As Fell Flight and the Society of Omega Veterans continue to review Office of Owl records regarding the fate of Outposts Omega and Black, occasionally engaging in very loud and heated debates over what to do, I have yet again received a letter with no return address.

'Twas delivered via what I can only describe as special courier, this time penetrating school security to leave a series of scrolls on my classroom desk with those who left them both arriving and departing unseen. Their contents are what you are about to read, as ‘twould seem our changeling friends have more of their own war stories to share.

I have forwarded these and an attached request to the Equestrian Intelligence Service and the Gryphon Kingdom’s Council of Crows, though I suspect they will have no more success than previously in tracking a race for whom stealth is a way of life, and whose every attribute and instinct is keyed towards remaining hidden in plain sight.

Nevertheless, ‘twill be shared here in this greater tale, for two reasons: first and foremost, it deserves to be, for the at-times vital role the Changelings played. And second, just as my story cannot be told without those of my friends, neither can Equestria’s without those of her allies, both undercover and overt.

This race was one of the former, and perchance by sharing their tales, we can begin lifting the veil on this mysterious and secretive species, and help draw them out of the shadows. Thus, I invite the Changeling named Lycovenato—who would later be known to ponies as the earth pony soldier Bramble Tracker—to continue his story.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military Tactics and History Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Gryphon Empire - Mosclaw
Location Undisclosed
September 2nd, 1139 AC (Year 305 of of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
2245 hours

The journey from my humble cabin to the capital had been long and, for the most part, uneventful.

We had passed by a single patrol of Talons along the highway leading to the capital, and they had merely given us three, who were under the cover of gryphon hunters at the time, a passing nod before moving along. ‘Twas an hour after sunset when we could see the faint lights of the capital after reaching the top of a hill.

“With the war having begun, I’m not too surprised with the lack of patrols out in the countryside,” commented ‘Mantis’, the chattier of my two-changeling escort of Silencers. Mantis was a fairly common name among changelings, but I had a strong suspicion ‘twas just an alias he was using. Most Silencers, as far as I understand, spend most of their lives living in obscurity to protect themselves and their families. Silencers rarely made any enemies that would survive long enough to seek revenge, though one could never be too careful, especially in the land where the Office of Owls and their Raven assassins might be lurking around every corner.

“War is the normal state of the Empire, and this time, it’s on another continent entirely. They have no reason to expect Equestrian agents operate here, so with any luck ‘twill stay that way for some time,” replied Reduviis, who like his partner, was probably using an alias, though an admittedly less common one.

If I had to guess, with the way he carried himself and the general air between the two, he held seniority despite them both being around the same age. The Silencers had no real ranking system that was known outside of the Queen and her trusted council’s knowledge, so I could only assume this was the case.

We were eventually walking through the dark alleys of the capital city’s less than glamorous districts. Before long we came to a dead end, the only thing of note being a rather ramshackle building, the sputtering flames of a torch sconce revealing a single drunken tiercel who clearly had seen better days, sitting on the stone steps.

My two escorts did not even slow their stride as they approached the tiercel. The drunkard blinked blearily as the two Silencers stood before him, and he leered at them before letting out a slurred, “Wha’ you three bastards wan’, eh?” He took a pull from a tin flask, rum dribbling down the side of his beak. “This is me property, so sod off, a’fore I give ya wha’s comin’ to-”

“Brush the cobwebs from your eyes, Oseidus. It’s us,” replied Reduviis, who knocked the flask out of the drunkard’s claws.

The tiercel blinked, and I saw the faint flexing and subtle gesturing of claws between the two.

You’re late. Thought you’d both got caught by the Owls! “Crows’ beaks, wha’ y’go and do that fer?” He growled in equal parts inebriation and anger.

Necessary detour; dragonfire message from Her Majesty. “Lay off the drink, you old buzzard. ‘Tis going to send you to an early grave before long,” Reduviis said with disdain in his tone.

“You damned…” You mean him? A flicker of Oseidus eyes on me before he blinked lazily at Reduviis.

Yes. You… heard the news of the Princess?

A longer pause, then a weak gesture from Oseidus. Yes.

“‘Twould be unwise to pick a fight you can’t win, Oseidus,” Manits said with an amused smirk as he placed a claw over the blade strapped to his belt. Can we pass?

Go on.

The apparent guard stumbled over himself and picked up his flask, “You’d be dead for tha’, if’n I wasn’t already piss’d up!” He spat on the ground and stepped aside. “Rent’s due in a week, by the way, and don’t be late with it this time or I’ll get the guards to break your doors down and drag you to the debtor’s prison!”

We didn’t even give him a reply as we pushed past him and made our way through the rickety entryway. The interior was musty and clearly neglected. A single hall with half-rotted doors lining either side indicated this was a boarding house of sorts, and the drunkard must have been the landlord.

That was the cover that the changeling standing outside was using, at least.

Mantis moved ahead, pulled a key out of his rucksack, and unlocked the door to one of the rooms. We entered an equally musty bedroom with rotting straw bedding, moth-eaten curtains, and a precariously cracked ceiling that looked ready to collapse at a moment’s notice.

“Not what I was expecting…” I murmured to myself, trying not to gag on the stenches that assailed my gryphon nostrils.

“Sorry, but Her Majesty wanted to have the main gate of the hive look as uninviting and unlikely as possible, and what better place than a neglected boarding house run by a drunken lowlife who makes things as unpleasant as possible?” Mantis said with the faintest of chuckles and a smirk. “Right… uhm…” He faced one of the walls and his smirk fell, giving way to a confused frown.

“That one,” said Reduviis with a sigh, pointing to a nondescript looking brick, “then go two spaces down and three left and four right, then-.”

“Oh, I remember now! Right! Thanks.” Mantis replied with an embarrassed chuckle. “Perchance I’ve been out in the field too long. ‘Tis been a while since I’ve been here.”

Mantis’ horn lit, and he pressed it against the brick in question before tracking it along a rather complex pattern of the surrounding bricks. It took almost a minute before there was a sudden pop in my ears and a brief, subtle spike in the magical presence of the room.

Mantis turned his attention to a floorboard, pressed down on it with a hoof, and suddenly what had once been rotting wood dissolved before my eyes and took the shape of a metal trapdoor that looked to have been created by the best blacksmiths in the Empire.

Reduviis must have noticed my expression, and gave a rare smile. “Welcome home, Lycovenato. Our Queen awaits.”

Before continuing, methinks I should take a moment to better explain how the Lepidoptes Hive managed to survive in what many would think to be one of the least desirable places to set up our hive’s headquarters.

Firstly, we had been there for nearly three hundred years, arriving only a few decades before the gryphons first erected the Citadel itself. Whilst Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV had already ruled for over two centuries by the time of these events, her mother and her mother before her had been living among the gryphons and ponies for far longer.

—Lycovenato

We’ve lived among them for almost two millennia from what our records state. My great-grandmother, Scylla Lepidoptes I, had left her own hive after a rather heated civil conflict that was based on two contrasting ideals regarding changelings living among other races. Their Queen had rather… unpleasant beliefs regarding the other creatures of this land, and we have had little contact with that hive since.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

Thank you, Your Majesty; even I am surprised to learn this! Methinks I will be the first to admit that I know little of our species’ history outside of the general things taught to every grub, but a lot of that is mixed in with creation myth, and I’ve never been the most pious changeling, even in my younger days.

As I was saying, our hive had existed beneath Mosclaw for nearly three centuries, undetected by the gryphons above ground. We accomplished this task through a combination of constant vigilance and magical wards—strong but subtle spells that subconsciously persuaded possible intruders to veer away from any entrances—and planting a few trusted and able changelings within the Empire’s higher ranking authorities, so as to keep any possible city expansion from encroaching on our hive.

Mind you, these days the old hive is in ruins. ‘Twas abandoned not long after the war broke out in Equestria, and in a rather hasty fashion due to events that will be touched upon later. Any who would find the hive these days would find nothing but moldering halls and vacant underground caverns, and little else.

At one point though, the Lepidoptes Hive was a rather grand spectacle, at least to any changeling. ‘Twas a place that, despite having never visited previously, felt much like home to me.

—Lycovenato

Unfamiliar Familiarity

The trapdoor lead down a winding staircase of carved stone, lit only by the occasional magic lamp fastened to the wall. Despite being beneath the earth, however, there was a noticeable lack of dank mildew odor, and fresh, magically-charged air filled my lungs with every breath I took.

Methinks ‘twas likely an intentional feature when the original architects of the hive were creating this staircase, I imagine. ‘Twas perchance another advanced bit of spellwork, such as that of the concealment that hid the trapdoor.

We must have traversed several hundred feet downward before we reached a level plane of stone, the sound of it beneath our hooves softly echoing along the walls. We had shed our covers shortly after entering the underground passage, as Reduviis had assured me we were well past the point of needing them now.

The stone hall we walked through lead us to a grand and opulent set of double-doors, which appeared to be carved of pure emerald, though I could clearly tell 'twas a mixture of changeling molding work and stone masonry that had created them. Depictions of two long vines sprouting from the top of a germinating seed before encircling it were on either of the two doors, and above the seed and vines was a heart, enveloped in a halo of light: the symbol of the World Soul.

“Halt!” called out a voice, though even I could not see or detect any presence in the area.

Mantis rolled his eyes, which even in the dim lighting I could tell was done with clear intention of being seen. “For the love of the Hive Mother, let us through, Rachnia.”

Five changelings, seemingly walking out of the shadows of the wall themselves, approached us. A stern looking female with scars covering her face and wearing chipped but clearly well-maintained armor of a dark blue hue stepped forward. “Silencer Reduviis. Silencer Mantis. Good to see you two made it back in one piece from the border.” Her voice was rough and commanding, but lacked any hostility or ill intent.

Reduviis stepped forward, and the two shared a brief bow of mutual respect. “Captain, I trust all is still well here?”

Rachnia’s stony demeanor fell for a brief moment, giving way to a flash of sorrow. “...aside from the news of Her Highness? Yes… all is well.”

“Ah.” Reduviis sighed, something I was beginning to relate to his way of showing sympathy towards others. “I had sent a message via dragonfire and crystal communications to Her Majesty, and she in turn gave us some last minute orders. We had to make a brief detour to pick up our friend, here.” He gestured towards me, indicating for me to approach. “Captain, this is Lycovenato. Lycovenato, this is Rachnia Silkweave, Captain of Her Majesty’s Royal Guard.”

I gave a low bow, which she met with one that was above my own. “Well met, Lycovenato. Her Majesty informed me to expect your arrival…” She paused for a moment to take in my appearance. “Forgive me, but… you’re not quite what I was expecting.”

Methinks I took that with less offense than I might have previously. “These past few months have been far from what I was expecting, too, Captain. I wouldn’t normally be found here, I imagine,” I replied dryly with a wry smile.

Her own smile quickly faded, being covered once more by her stony expression. “You have my sincerest apologies for the circumstances, Lycovenato. Her Majesty is expecting you. The sooner you speak with her, the sooner we can move forward with our hive’s preparations and leave Mosclaw.”

“Of course,” I acknowledged, giving another bow.

The Guard parted ways whilst two of them opened the double doors with their magic. What greeted us was a series of halls and stairs, all made of the same green casing and stonework with blue and green magical flames. The green casing worked into the stone itself gave off a faint luminescence, resembling veins of emerald blood flowing through a living creature.

I followed Mantis and Reduviis as they lead me through the complex network. We crossed paths with dozens upon dozens of other changelings, both military personnel and civilians. The hive was abuzz with activity; a sense of urgency and purpose surrounding everyone we passed.

A purpose that quickly became clear as I observed supplies and crystals being stowed, and—far more ominously—eggs being secured from the hatchery, placed in magical incubators to be ready for travel—a dangerous operation for them even in the best of circumstances. “Is it true? Are we really abandoning the hive?” I asked.

“Correct,” Reduviis replied grimly without turning to face me. “With the war going on and… with the discovery of the late Princess Plexippa by the Empire, our Queen has decided to move forward with Operation Annelid. We’re creating a tunnel as we speak that will lead us well outside the capital’s line of sight. Once we have it completed, our hive will leave for our secondary base of operations until we are certain ‘tis safe to return.”

“And the younglings?” I motioned back to where the eggs were being carefully tended.

He hesitated. “‘Tis our hope that with careful preparation, the journey will be short and swift enough to not harm them.”

‘Twas little I could say to that except whisper a silent prayer to the Hive Mother for their safety. Eventually we stood before a second, larger set of double-doors depicting an identical set of symbols and were greeted once more by a small squad of Guards. Reduviis again greeted the leading officer of the group; this time the exchange was brief and we were promptly let through with only a warning to show proper respect to Her Majesty, though I imagine this was mostly directed towards me.

As we entered, the first thing I noticed was the ambience from the lighting. What had been dim shades of blue and green throughout the halls of the hive now gave way to additional hues from violet and pink lamps. A plush carpet of deep crimson stretched out before us, leading to a raised dais several steps above the ground. A large, if rather simple-looking, throne was seated at the top platform, whilst on either side of the carpet was a shallow dip in the floor where a stream of water ran parallel to the carpeted path before draining into the ground below. The water’s source was bubbling up from small fountains on either side of the throne, and I found myself bowing before I fully took in the figure seated on it.

“Reduviis. Mantis. It does my heart well to see you two return safely,” spoke a matronly voice that instantly filled my own heart with ease.

“Your Majesty,” greeted the two Silencers in unison, bowing as low as I had.

“Rise, please,” said our queen, whose voice remained calm and yet easily heard over the burbling of the water that filled the throne room.

We rose, and I finally took the time to take in her appearance.

She was as resplendent as my father had described her to be. Her mane and tail were of a deep, royal blue color; her eyes a striking, verdant green. A pair of fangs were visible along her motherly smile, and a simple crown of obsidian black that matched her carapace rested on her head. She wore a layered set of blue and violet robes that trailed behind her as she made her way down the steps of the dais to meet us.

Without prompt, we stepped forward, the ever vigilant eyes of numerous Guards watching us from either side of the throne room. We stopped short, once more bowing for a moment as Her Majesty met our bows with a slight dip of her head.

When I met her gaze, her eyes softened considerably as she whispered to me, “I had hoped when we first met that… that we would have the honor to greet each other not as queen and subject, but as a mother and son.”

I said nothing, my eyes closing for a moment as the face of Plexippa rushed back to the forefront. But before my mind could drift down the dark path it had for the past few hours, I felt a soft pressure on my shoulder. I looked up to see Her Majesty gently resting a hoof there, smiling sadly.

“She truly loved you, Lycovenato. Her words were as earnest as if she had spoken them to me in person,” My Queen stated softly. “Please know that I shall honor her memory and continue to treat you as though you were my own family.”

“...Your Majesty… I…”

Words failed me, and I found myself unable to give voice to the pain that was tormenting me. Mercifully, she continued to fill in the silence that I could not. “I have no wish to cause you additional pain. As you’ve no doubt had a long and trying day, I bid you to rest for now. Methinks I shall speak with you tomorrow, my dear changeling, and discuss your training for the mission that lies ahead.”

I gave another bow, and before long was escorted to a cot by one of Her Majesty’s attendants. Fatigued and emotionally drained as the face of Plexippa danced yet again on the edge of my consciousness, I quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, the day’s events finally taking their toll on me.

*****

I’m afraid most of the training I went through in the day that followed is still classified, so both it and my assessment will remain more or less removed from the story. I can at least state that Her Majesty was present for my combat and infiltration assessment, as well as my knowledge exams of Equestria and the Empire.

After a grueling two weeks’ worth of teaching and training fit into but fifteen hours—something our well-developed mental and restoration arts allow for their abilities to rapidly impart knowledge and under certain circumstances, even slow down our perceptions of time itself—in a routine that Silencers often referred to as ‘Breaking in the Greenhorns’, I was deemed to have met requirements for my assignment by both the queen and my drill instructors. I was fitted for barding shortly afterwards.

“That bow on the table over there,” said the changeling quartermaster who was going over my armor to make sure it fit me properly, “are you going to take that with you?”

“I had planned to, yes,” I replied, turning to the recurve bow that was currently on a table nearby. “My father had taught me how to make them when I was younger, and this one has served me well for a few years now.”

The quartermaster let out a grunt, the smallest of smirks on his face as he gave a satisfactory nod before stepping away. “Aye, ‘tis a fine bow; got to have a look at it myself. You definitely put some care into creating it. What kind of wood did you use? Elm?”

“North Equestrian Elm, yes, from a time when my father and I traveled through Equestria.”

The quartermaster’s smirk grew, “Heh, a fine choice; can’t find a better wood for a reasonable price these days, and definitely not in Aresia, unless it’s smuggled over the border.” He gave my side a firm bump with a hoof, pleased by the dull thud from hitting my barding. “You’re all set. Don’t go getting yourself killed out there so quickly, now. My brother’s the blacksmith and armorer ‘round here, and he’d be devastated if his armor failed to keep you safe.”

“I’ll do my best, then,” I replied with a nod, taking my bow in my magic and sheathing both it and the quiver on my back. Once my weapons were secured and ‘safed’, as my trainers put it, I made my way back to the throne room, where Her Majesty awaited me.

Upon entering, Queen Scylla gave me an appraising look at my new warrior persona before letting a smile spread across her features. “You are now a true soldier and infiltrator. And for it, you remind me much of your father.”

I blinked in surprise. “You knew my father personally?”

She nodded, her smile growing. “Indeed, I did. Clavulus was an exceptional soldier and scout. Perchance a bit absent-minded when not on duty, but your mother seemed to find it endearing.”

I smiled, finding myself nodding in agreement. “Yes, he was a loving father, but I fear that he’d forget to disguise himself some days if I didn’t remind him, Hive Mother rest his soul.”

There was a moment of silence as My Queen studied me close. “I’ve had my best agents map out three possible routes for you to take through the northern straits that allows passage onto the Equestrian continent. It… will be dangerous, but ‘twould seem we’ve found safe enough routes that will allow you to avoid most of the patrols. I cannot emphasize enough how careful you must be once you cross into Equestria, though.” She paused to let her words sink in.

“The Gryphons’ plans clearly state that they have a sizeable amount of soldiers still waiting to cross over and help reinforce the invading forces. Tempting though it may be, do not attempt to take the form of a gryphon soldier as they are alert for such things after our theft of their war plans, and are scanning their soldiers regularly,” she warned me, reminding me of what I’d already been told repeatedly by my trainers. But repetition never hurt.

“Do what you must to keep yourself safe. Take the form of wildlife, rocks; whatever you must to stay alive before reaching Equestria. Once you reach the city of Detrot, report to Equestrian Army Base Basalt with the name ‘Bramble Tracker’. My agents in the pony lands already have a complete physical profile made for you.” She passed me a scroll.

“You’re coming back early from your scheduled leave to Coltucky. Your original unit was stationed at Outpost Blue on the border and lost in the first day of the attack. You were only spared by happenstance but now, wishing to avenge your lost comrades, you seek to rejoin the Equestrian Army to help fight the gryphon invaders, and are thus seeking reassignment.”

I nodded my understanding as her horn then lit up. “Commit this information to memory, and then burn the scroll. Now, if you’ll allow me, I shall project the appearance of the cover you shall take into your mind.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” I bowed slowly and allowed her magic to brush across my mind’s surface. A ruddy brown coat, a short cropped gray and wheat yellow mane and tail, steel-gray eyes, a rather trim build that spoke of one who was more agile than strong, but still had the conditioning of a proper soldier. His cutie mark was a simple gray horseshoe wrapped in a pair of green, thorn-covered vines with a single blackberry on the end of one with a pair of leaves on the other.

By all accounts, he was a rather ordinary pony, aside from the cutie mark. Young, perchance a bit on the lean side for a soldier, but otherwise hardy. Likely a farm colt by background, strong and used to living in the agrarian expanse of Equestria’s breadbasket.

I would have to formulate his background more thoroughly once I had a chance.

I opened my eyes as the image took hold, and I nodded to confirm to my queen that I had received it properly, magically searing it into my memory. “Interesting choice on the pony tribe, if I may be honest, Your Majesty. I would think a unicorn would be a better option.”

She gave a nod of agreement, “Mayhap you are right, but I do recall you stating that you were trained to wield the bow with your forelegs before your father showed you how to handle one with magic, correct?”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

“Magic requires focus that extends beyond muscle memory, and I feel wielding the bow with such skill as an earth pony will give you an unexpected advantage. An Imperial Talon will not expect to see a skilled bowpony that is not a unicorn, after all. Nor would they expect a sudden spell in the midst of battle,” The faintest flicker of mischief danced across her features before she added, “I have faith in this choice. I would never intentionally put you at a disadvantage that would endanger you, Lycovenato. Besides, you wouldst still have your armored hoofstrikers and other equipment provided by the Equestrian Army.”

“Of course, My Queen, and I would never believe you to endanger me, either,” I replied with a low bow.

I stood up straight, and with a flare of my horn, was engulfed in green flame. When the fires faded, I stood before Her Majesty, now wearing the features of my new cover, the earth pony, Bramble Tracker.

“‘Tis certain it suits you well,” Queen Scylla praised with an approving nod. “Let’s hear your voice.”

I nodded, and took a moment to adjust to my new vocal chords. “I… am Corporal Bramble Tracker, ready to serve Her Highness and protect Equestria.” The voice was only slightly lower than my natural tone, so 'twasn’t too jarring to my ears. “Well, I think this cover works well for me.”

“Splendid,” Queen Scylla rose from her throne and made her way down the dais. “I’m afraid then, with this confirmation of your cover suiting you and your combat and skill assessment complete… I must now send you off.”

I stood straighter, nodding in understanding. “I shall serve to the best of my ability, Your Majesty.”

“I know you will, Lycovenato. Of that, I have no doubt.” She lit her horn once more, and an incredibly small, bright pink object that couldn’t have been any bigger than a grain of rice floated before her. “This is an advanced, long-range communication gem. 'Tis synched with my own magical signature, and so long as we both breathe and live, it will serve as a means for us to communicate. The research team stated that it can only work between the two sources, in this case the two of us. I have also been told that there is no true limit on working range, but it does have a delay in communication that grows longer with distance.”

“I see…” I studied the gem, which remained floating in her aura. “How do I use it?”

“I’m afraid ‘twill be a bit uncomfortable at first… the gem will be swallowed by you, and I will have to move it up through your nasal passages until it rests within your brain cavity with my magic.” Even she winced as she said those words. “I promise I will take the utmost care in this process, but I’m afraid there’s no other means of doing so without risking your safety. The gem must be placed against the brain stem to function properly. Anywhere else will prevent it from working as intended.”

I felt my mouth widen as I took a gulp of air, “Y-you… mean that will be placed… inside my head?” I couldn’t fight down the tremor in my voice as I stared at what might as well have been a high-grade explosive gem in My Queen’s magic aura.

“On my honor as the Queen of the Lepidoptes Hive and as the guardian and leader of her people, you have my solemn vow that you will not be harmed, Lycovenato,” Her Majesty replied, her voice showing no hint of uncertainty or worry.

I took a moment to stare at the gem. It looked unlike any sort of gemstone I had seen. 'Twas multifaceted when I stared at it in the glow of the nearby lamplight, but 'twas perfectly rounded. Not a single pointed or sharp edge as far as my eyes could see, and as one who has made a living off hunting, I trusted my senses. Ovular in shape, but thin enough that I could have mistaken it for a grass seed or something akin to it. Were it not for the bright pink color, it could easily go unnoticed to anyone if it were lying on the ground.

“Very well…” I replied with a slow nod, my pony tail flicking in anxiety but at least my trembling was now under control. “I trust you wholly, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Lycovenato,” she replied, and moved the gem towards my muzzle.

I closed my eyes, and found my limbs lock in place as My Queen’s aura paralyzed me and held me down. “I am only doing this so that you will not move abruptly. This will be a delicate couple of minutes, so please endure until I’m finished.” I opened my eyes for a moment and watched as her aura intensified around the gem, tiny sparks of electricity surging across it. The faint crackling of electricity could be heard as she focused on the object, and she gave me a reassuring smile before running a second spell across the gems small surface, studying it intently with a keen eye. “A potent sterilization spell. Anything that may have been on this gem has been destroyed. No illness will be caused by this procedure now, you have my word.”

Her reassurance given, I nodded and closed my eyes, allowing her to continue with the task at hoof. I felt my jaws open, and the faint presence of her magic danced across my tongue as she guided the gem through. I took in gulps of air as the gem moved up through the back of my throat and through the opening leading to the back of my nasal cavity.

“The barrier I placed upon the gem is small, but ‘twill prevent anything within your sinuses from latching onto the gem. So, nothing from within or outside of your body will be brought into your brain cavity now,” she said softly.

A few long seconds dragged by into minutes as she slowly guided the gem, her magic gently probing my body’s inner workings with care that even a mother with a newborn larvae could not hope to match.

At last I felt her magic weaken, and a moment passed before her magical hold over me ceased completely. I opened my eyes, and watched her own eyes open, likely having been closed to help her concentrate fully.

Instead of opening her mouth, however, she continued to study me.

How do you feel, Lycovenato?

I jumped, clearly not expecting My Queen’s voice to resound between my ears. “H-huh?” I blinked as her mouth twitched, betraying amusement. “T-that was you, Your Majesty?”

“’Twas indeed,” she replied. “Now, please… think of something to say to me, and… think it.”

“Alright…” I replied, albeit with a renewed tremor in my voice. Hello? Your Majesty… can you hear me?

Her eyes lit up as she smiled in clear elation. Clear as a siren’s song, my dear changeling! 'Tis working exactly as it should. She laughed as a smile began to tug at my own lips. “Now, mind you, it only works if you wish to speak with me. The spellwork is something not even I fully understand yet if we’re being honest here, but my best arcanists assured me they have done hundreds of tests on this spell, long before the war even started. So as long as my magic exists and both our bodies breathe, it will provide a means for us to communicate.”

“Amazing…” I said, and I meant it. Such magic wasn’t necessarily new, per se, but on such a focused yet amplified scale was no doubt revolutionary, at least for changelings. “All in such a small gem, too!”

“Indeed; the world provides amazing means of harnessing magic, and this is but one way of doing so,” she agreed. “I will keep regular contact with you when I’m able, but do not hesitate to contact me if you need to.”

“I will. But… are there other agents that have this gem as well?”

“No, at least not now. In time? Yes, but for now, you are the only one. With Equestria being mostly separated from Aresia by the Antlertic Ocean and a narrow strait to the north, most of my agents remain in the gryphon lands aside from a small number who currently live among the ponies. You will likely meet some of them, but they will be undertaking their own missions that will be, for the most part, less involved with combat.” Her expression softened as she added, “You will be the only one of my agents undertaking an active role in fighting alongside Equestria—at least for now.”

“Then I shall do all I can to succeed, Your Majesty,” I replied with a pony-style salute.

She nodded in return, a slow dip of the head as she closed her eyes, “May the Hive Mother guide you, Lycovenato.”

“And you as well, Your Majesty,” I said automatically, my thoughts suddenly filled with my beloved’s face again.

Crossing Over

Gryphon Empire, near Celestial Straits
Location Undisclosed
September 3rdth, 1139 AC (Year 305 of of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
0310 hours

For all the lovely farmlands and expanses of lush countryside that Equestria is known for, I have always found more beauty in the northern expanses of the Empire. The vast pines that seem to stretch on forever into the northern taiga; the untamed wilderness that has found a way to maintain itself without magic…

What I loved most of all though about the Empire’s northern territory were the skies at night. Stars dusted the skies; the spirits of those before us watching over the world below. Many changelings believe that whilst the World Soul is the entity that connects all life on the planet, 'tis the heavens where those who have passed on dwell. Only at night and in our dreams do we ever draw close to one another.

I drew in a slow breath through my nostrils whilst I sifted through the long grass of a small valley nestled between two hills. I fluffed my feathers and drew the fur hunter’s cloak around my gryphon body tighter. ‘Twas exceptionally cold for this time of year, but when your race had little to no means of controlling weather, there was nothing that could be done about it aside from finding ways to adapt. Such was the way of the gryphons, and myself as well, at least for now.

Whilst I would have preferred to find a place to camp before sunset, I had to force myself to keep moving. Patrols would be more numerous as I drew closer to the border and more active during the day, and eventually I would have to find a way to sneak past without drawing attention. ‘Twas certain doing so at night would be easiest for me, but time was of the essence, hence traveling at night. My natural ability to see at night as a gryphon allowed me to do this all the more easily, too. Sunrise was still a couple hours away, so I had to cover what ground I could before stopping to camp for the day.

I had spoken with the queen twice in the time since I had made my journey to Equestria’s border, sharing brief updates on my progress and ensuring our link was still working properly. I had yet to sense any delay in our communications; ‘twas as though she was right beside me with how easily we exchanged thoughts. It made me wonder how far I would need to be before any noticeable delay became apparent for us.

If my estimates were correct, 'twas almost four by the time I had a clear view of the Antlertic Ocean to my left and the expanse of evergreens to my right. Like silent sentinels, they covered the stretch of the Celestial Strait, swaying in the approaching winter wind and filling the air with the faint scent of pine sap and the cold jetstream that had traveled south from the Frozen North.

Your Majesty, are you there? I thought to myself as the first signs of gryphon patrols came into view, in the form of a small group of Talons sitting around a fire.

There was only a few seconds before she replied. Lyco… Lycovenato? Is that you?

Yes, My Queen. Forgive me, did I awake you from-?

'Tis fine, do not fret. Are you well?

I felt a smile creep across my lips. She truly was a mother at heart; ‘twas clear where Plexippa’s own kindness had come from. I am well, yes. I wanted to inform you that I am nearing the strait. I shall proceed with Route Pinepaw, as was initially planned.

Very well. Have you met any Imperial forces?

I paused, taking another glance around my entire viewpoint. None of any real concern, no. Just an isolated patrol or two that ‘twere easily avoided. Most of the forces preparing to join the Equestrian theater are massed north of me. I may have spotted a large military camp in a valley, but methinks I’m pleasantly surprised by how uneventful this journey has been so far.

All the more reason to be on guard, then. Queen Scylla replied. I will await your update when you’ve crossed the strait. Stay safe, Lycovenato.

I nodded, despite being alone. Thank you, Your Majesty.

Our conversation ended, I made my way down a small bluff that was covered in pines. The needles and soft forest floor muffled my footfalls, and as soon as I found a small cluster of trees huddled together, I enveloped myself in flames once more. When I opened my eyes, my auditory senses were immediately assailed with the gentle rush of the winds above. The smell of pine was sharper, and what had once been feathers and fur was now entirely the latter.

Four soft, padded feet brushed against some long-dead needles, and I took a sniff with my new feline nose before letting out a sneeze. Right then, methinks I should be more careful with taking in scents for now…

The Aresian Sabrecat was larger than its cousin in the northwestern Equestrian coast. Thicker fur, more pronounced jawline, and at least a good fifteen pounds difference on average. ‘Twas also a common denizen of the area, and lived a solitary life, so the presence of a single one should draw no attention.

I took another look around, my eyes now picking out the distinct shapes of birds flitting in the canopy with relative ease as a small chipmunk raced between two fallen logs almost silently.

Well, first phase: complete. I thought to myself, and looked down to my bow and rucksack that lay at my side. I thankfully had the foresight to place my quiver in my rucksack before taking on a new form, but the weight was still there. Sadly, my transformation did not magically remove the burden of my gear. Aside from my changeling armor, everything else that was not a part of my body was unchanged. Were anyone there to witness me at that moment, they would have seen a rather comical sight of a young male sabrecat attempting to fasten a rucksack around his stomach whilst gripping a recurve bow in his teeth.

Truly, Equestrian naturalists would have been in conniptions over such a spectacle, whilst the gryphons would have immediately suspected something was up.

Letting out a rather feline chuckle, I stared at the tree before me. The lowest sturdy branch was at least a good twelve feet from the ground. Not a problem for a changeling with wings, and only slightly more difficult for a predator made for climbing trees.

With a leap off the ground, I latched onto the trunk, my sharp claws grasping onto the firm bark of the pine. Being able to take animal forms had been part of the training my father had put me through in my youth as well as tested during my days of training at the hive, including how to use the attributes of everything from felines to jackelopes to climb, attack and escape. Only the first was needed here as I made quick work of the remaining distance before gaining my balance on the branch. Letting out a snort and ignoring the matting of fur from fresh sap, I climbed up ten more feet and then chose a neighboring tree to cross over to.

In fifteen minutes’ time I had covered almost two miles, pleasantly surprised by how quickly I was able to traverse the high branches after I had grown accustomed to my new, lithe body. Only the faint creak of a branch and an occasional pine cone dropping from a bough gave away my position, were any there to hear such noises.

The sun had risen almost an hour ago when I had finally paused, panting whilst I stretched my muscles along a thick bough of an exceptionally old evergreen. My sudden exhaustion was not surprising given my form granted me both the advantages and disadvantages of that particular species; felines were not known for their stamina. After a few minutes’ rest, I had been ready to continue my arboreal trek when my ears perked up, turning towards the sound of Aeric language being spoken aloud to the northwest.

“... the very idea is ridiculous, and if we don’t return soon the Optio will have our tails!” a tiercel’s voice stated in Aeric.

“I’m telling you, I saw something leaping through the trees. Something big!” His eagless partner replied.

The first earth gryphon came into view just beneath me. “Yes, and believe it or not, there are lynx, sabercats, and timberwolves roaming these woods all the time.” He let out a groan as his partner continued ahead of him, undeterred.

“Not this close to a camp, though,” the eagless argued, albeit with some uncertainty. “Animals tend to avoid camps as big as ours.”

“So what do you propose we do, then? Comb every pine for some feline, take note of it, and report back our findings to an Optio Lattius who will likely tear up said report and assign us to latrine duty for the rest of the week as a reward?” he asked in annoyance, but his slightly higher-ranked partner shook her head.

“Just… two more minutes. By my ancestors, I swear that animal was moving too well. Like 'twas thinking out its pathway way more than any animal normally would.”

So they did see me… I silently cursed. Your Majesty?

Yes, Lycovenato?

My apologies for troubling you, but ‘twould seem I spoke too soon regarding the lack of gryphons about. I’m currently in a bit of a situation. I’m hiding in the canopy of a large pine, probably a good… forty feet off the ground. Two Talons are beneath me, one who I believe had spotted me during my crossing along the canopy whilst in disguise.

There was a pause. Do they seem suspicious, or just curious?

The one who spotted me seems intent on finding me. They thought how I moved was unnatural for a sabrecat. Their partner is rather annoyed, though. They fear that if they linger too long that they will be reprimanded by their Optio.

I see. Are you downwind and concealed well enough?

For now, but if they bother looking up or the wind shifts, they may spot me.

Do not move, then. Trust your camoflauge. Keep your eyes on them, but your fur color should keep you concealed so long as you stay close to the shade of the tree’s branches.

Taking a calming breath, I exhaled slowly and quietly and watched the two gryphons make a cursory pass around the general area.

“There, see? No animal, and now we’ve wasted time,” the annoyed Talon Spear stated after a couple minutes passed. Stretching his wings, he turned northward. “I’m heading back, and for both of our sakes, methinks you’d best do so as well.”

The Talon eagless Gladio let out a grunt, clearly unhappy with their lack of results after searching the area. “Very well…”

The two took to the air and headed northward, no doubt towards their camp. “For what it’s worth, you’d better hope we get assigned to an open field during the fighting. You’d think the damned Black Lances are stalking us with how jumpy you’re being.”

Their voices faded as they disappeared beyond the trees. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, and waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

Your Majesty, they’ve left to return to their camp. I replied.

I could hear her sigh of relief, despite speaking to me telepathically. Good. Stick to the middle of the treeline from now on, Lycovenato. You’ll be harder to spot from there, even if it may slow you down considerably.

Yes, I was thinking the same, My Queen.

Excellent. Stay safe and keep me informed... was her parting thought as I carefully made my way down, waiting until I was about a good ten feet lower from my previous location, then continued on my way.

Careless! I thought to myself. I had grown too secure in the general lack of activity during my travel. Had those two gryphons been Ravens, or perchance even a bit more attentive or in less of a hurry, they might have thought to look up; twas pure happenstance that they had approached from upwind otherwise they might have caught my scent. I would then have been in a rather dangerous position, and trying to evade capture in a forest occupied by an enemy was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

Taking a moment to collect my bearings, I stretched my legs once more before continuing onward.

* * * * *

The Celestial Strait has been considered by many a threshold between two very different worlds for ages.

To the east lay the harsh wilds of the Gryphon Empire’s northern taiga forests and far beyond that, the lands of the Ibexian Ascendancy. To the west lay the lush and far more tame lands of Equestria. Two worlds and two ways of life that were now clashing in the most violent way imaginable.

‘Twould be a shame to see the serenity of this strait disappear, I thought in a rare moment of sentiment; its lush pine forests that bordered either shoreline and azure waters truly were a sight to behold.

Plexippa probably would have loved to see this… but she was too busy trying to hide and get across the border to enjoy it.

With my mood soured by dark thoughts, I let out a grunt and flexed my feline claws before leaping to the next branch. Less than half a mile was the Aresian shoreline of the Celestial Strait, and beyond that, not all that farther from me, was the shoreline of the Equestrian continent of Equis, whose northeastern areas were colonized by the Empire and which was serving as the base of operations for the Imperial invasion.

I would have to change form once more. My body was not made for swimming, and ‘twas a dilemma for me what race to become for the journey. The possible forms I could take to cross the water were numerous, but only a few would be able to also hold my equipment effectively. A magic-wielding hippogryph would allow me the ability to transform between both land and sea creatures that could swim as well as fly. ‘Twas an obvious answer, but the gryphons hated them even more than the ponies for reasons I had never quite understood. In any event, they were rarely seen in this area of the world, and to be spotted as one would raise instant suspicions.

I could take to the air as a large bird, but the sight of a hawk or eagle carrying a bow and stuffed rucksack would be easily noticed, and even if I cast a concealment spell on my gear, any nearby mages worth their staves would sense it and immediately confront me. I would have been better off launching bolts of magic into the air and singing some Aeric war hymn if that were the case.

Whilst considering my dilemma, I studied the waterfront; my sharp sabrecat form’s eyes noting a few dead trees that had managed to find themselves along the shoreline, perchance due to a strong wind knocking them over, or perchance from termites or some other natural cause.

I eventually settled my sights on a rather small tree, noting that it still had branches that were green despite the worsening weather—fall had arrived early in this part of the world, as it so oft did. With that decision made, my focus turned to the tides. They were low right now, which was ideal for the next phase of my mission. I would need to remain out of sight of any possible gryphons, and a low tide would help in that regard.

After confirming that I was alone and there were no gryphon patrols coming my way, I jumped down from my perch and made my way towards the husk of a pine tree I had chosen as my means of transportation. I procured some rope that I had taken with me from the hive and, with an apology to My Queen who had warned me not to do this, I transformed into a gryphon. Using my claws, I tied my rucksack between two rather sturdy knots in the wood, then rolled my makeshift raft out onto the water. With the waves being rather calm for the moment and dusk falling, now would be the best time to cross the straits.

Well… if all else fails, at least I can say that I’m the first of the Lepidoptes Hive to try this… I exhaled deeply, and was consumed in magical flames. When they dispersed, I had taken the form of a sleek, scaled creature with two forelimbs, a long dorsal fin that ran down my back, and a large tail fin. I ran my tongue over my sharp teeth and took in a long breath of the briney air with my new, larger lungs.

Taking the form of a siren, a creature that was thought to have vanished ages ago after the work of a great pony sorcerer, was a risk. A very large risk… but a calculated one. Queen Lepidoptes would probably disagree, but with apologies to her now, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

I do indeed disagree, Lycovenato. Whilst creative, what you did was bordering on intentionally reckless! Had I known of your plan, I would have dissuaded you and given you an entire textbook’s worth of other marine creatures whose forms would better suit your need to be inconspicuous. Whilst I do admire your bravery, this newly revealed information of your journey to Equestria is so absurd that it’s comical. What were you thinking, taking on an extinct and much-maligned form such as that of a siren?

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

]In truth, Your Majesty, I wasn’t thinking all that hard about my choice at that time. I remember hearing the tales of the siren song being able to shatter steel and wrest control of even the most disciplined of minds. Mayhap I thought that if I ran into any danger, I would be able to attack them with… a scream or sing a spell-woven song to discombobulate them.

—Lycovenato

That is only slightly more reassuring, but I am at least glad to know you put some thought into the matter. Though I daresay you had pulled a trick right out of my dear Plexippa’s book, thinking up something so reckless. In the end, though, I am glad it served its purpose.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

My apologies for keeping this secret from you, My Queen. If it helps ease your mind at all, I ran into no danger whilst crossing the strait. I even managed to charm some love from a passing dolphin to replenish my magical power and snag a delicious lunch in the form of a Celestial Mackerel whilst swimming across the water, too. All in all, a rather fruitful passage.

—Lycovenato

Solace Along the Shore

I crossed the water and reached the shoreline within fifteen minutes, thanks in large part to my siren body’s streamlined shape and magical strength. With the last droplets of saltwater beading off my sides and the taste of fresh fish still lingering on my tongue, I took on yet another form.

I now stood around the height of a full grown stallion. My scaled face gave way to fur and short whiskers. My ears were now covered by flaps of flesh, blood, and hair. My eyes were more sensitive to light, and I had to stifle a cough as my nose was assaulted by the smell of the sea, much more intense than before.

My opposable thumb gripped my rucksack, a little wet from the travel but not soaked, and drew out my bow from within, as well as my quiver.

A lone diamond dog would be a bit suspicious, especially in these lands, but they were known to wield bows and I could use the excuse of wanting to find treasure whilst the war was going on. No doubt any gryphon would demand a reason for my presence, and an Equestrian may be more prone to shooting me with a longbow before asking questions given the current allegiances in the conflict, but I was still firmly in gryphon lands right now.

If the hive’s intelligence was still accurate, I had about a day or two of travel ahead of me before I would need to change form, and that would only be after crossing the Delamare river that marked the pre-war boundary between the two sides.

Until then? I was a lowly diamond dog treasure hunter, perchance distasteful but not a danger, intent on scavenging some precious gems from the ponies who kept all the good jewels to themselves.

I projected my thoughts into the magical link between myself and My Queen: Your Majesty, Operation Mayfly’s second stage is complete. From here, I have an estimated time of forty-eight hours before I reach the Delamare River, and then I must pass through the battlezone on my way to Detrot. I have assumed the form of a diamond dog for now; methinks traversing the border canyon and surmounting the rocky terrain will be easier in this form.

I heard a pleased noise from Queen Scylla before she replied, Well done, Lycovenato. Before you reach Detrot, establish contact with me and give me an update of your situation. ‘Twould seem the communication gem is still working with little issue, but I would feel better testing its effectiveness once you are well within Equestrian lands.

Understood, Your Majesty. Commencing stage three of Operation Mayfly.

Be well, my changeling. May the Hive Mother guide you.

With those parting words, Queen Scylla left me alone to my thoughts once more. To the east was the Celestial Strait; its sparkling, peaceful waters a stark contrast to the violence that lay to the west. Steeling myself and taking a breath, I adjusted my rucksack, shouldered my bow, patted my back with a clawed hand, reassured by the presence of my quiver and arrows, and made my way towards the arid southwest.

Equestria awaited me, and with it, war.

‘Twas sheer luck that saved me several times throughout my travels westwards, and methinks I would learn all too well in the coming days, weeks, and months that luck rarely plays favorites, particularly in matters of war.

Looking back on these days, I have to cherish how peaceful they were. For despite the danger around me, and despite the risk of capture and death by Imperial forces, walking across the vast expanse of wilderness had been soothing to me, and ‘twas likely a much needed reprieve for my mind and body.

Perchance 'tis due to my upbringing as a hunter living with my father, or perchance 'twas just the stress I had been dealing with, but ‘tis certain I always found solace in the times I was surrounded by nature during my time fighting in the war. In the days that followed, I would end up using those same forested havens I loved so much as a tool during the war.

I shall leave my story here for now, but Her Majesty has informed me that she wishes to finish this chapter with her own personal request. So for now, I shall put down my pen. Thank you once more for allowing me this chance to contribute to this collection of stories, Captain.

—Lycovenato

Lycovenato is correct in stating that I have a request. This request, however, does not extend to Equestria, but to Ambassador Layan Kaval of the Gryphon Kingdom.

Ambassador, I believe there was a certain incident that took place only a few days after the war started that you or the Kingdom’s intelligence may know of. It regarded our hive, and lead to the planned evacuation of my hive being rushed forward and performed under what I will simply call severe duress.

I do not know if there were any records kept on this event, but if possible, I would greatly appreciate it if they could be shared at some point. You need not make them public; if need be, I would be willing to receive them in person at some point. As I stated some time ago, I do wish to speak with the Captain, after all. I feel it only fair to introduce myself to the gryphons as well, but only if you and your Queen are willing to do so.

If this is acceptable, then you need only follow the instructions on the scroll that will be found in your quarters in the Equestrian embassy. 'Tis my sincerest hope that, should you be willing to oblige my request, that I and my hive can finally find some closure on what unfolded that fateful day when the Lepidoptes Hive was forced to leave Mosclaw.

Until then, Lycovenato and I shall continue to compile our own memories and put them into written word. Thank you for letting us continue to share our side of this story, and I look forward to what I hope will be our eventual meeting.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

I see. I did receive your letter, troubling though I find the fact that you were able to defeat our embassy enchantments to do so.

Truthfully, ‘tis uncertain to me what you speak of, Your Highness, though perchance unsurprising as the Owls played operations regarding the Changelings very close to the vest, to use the pony term. In any event, I will have to discuss this request with Queen Jeyenne before I can offer you an answer. I also do not know if a meeting will be possible under any terms you find acceptable, as we still—understandably—have deep suspicions of your race and your ways. Nevertheless, I will forward your request. And you wouldst forgive me if I order the security of my embassy strengthened so that its wards cannot be breached again.

At the very least, I can say I do find this account thus far a fascinating glimpse into your race and its actions during the war. No doubt the Council of Crows and EIS will as well. Methinks I would like to meet you face to face, but only under circumstances all find satisfactory.

—Layan Kaval
Gryphon Kingdom Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot

“There is no place where espionage is not possible.” — Sun Tzu

Author's Note

And so we see the true beginnings of Lycovenato’s journey into Equestria and the war that will consume it. It was a fun chapter to write, though I’m sure most will agree 'twas lacking in action. This was intentional, as Lyco’s character hinted that there will be less of this in the future once he’s entered the battle. His will will be tested and his worldviews will be reshaped in the process. Not everything is cut in stone as far as plans, but I can promise that before the pen is put down for Lycovenato, he will return to some rather violent memories and darker parts of his life.

Thanks to all the awesome readers, and of course, I also want to thank Firesight for letting me contribute to this story- as well as offer his own suggestions and going over this to make it shine. I’d also like to extend thanks to the pre-reading team of Silent Woodfire and AJ Aficionado. I haven’t had much of a chance to write these days, so it’s refreshing to do so. Hope you all enjoyed it, and expect more from Lyco and the changelings in the future!

—Denim_Blue

Thanks, Denim! I’m glad my writing has inspired some from you. I like your Changeling worldbuilding very much; you do it the best since the great Demon Eyes Laharl in Changeling Roun. He will continue to write for his character now and again, when the mood and muse strikes him, and others like AJA and Leo Archon will contribute additional sections and chapters as well.

This wasn’t even on my radar for a possible release until about a week ago, but he turned it out quickly. Thanks go to him, as well as AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, and Leo Archon, as always. I’ll aim to have at least one more chapter released before or during the holidays in the main storyline. Until then... hope you enjoyed this surprise chapter!

Rally and Recover: 7 - Change of Command

Dear readers:

Whilst Fell Flight and Colonel Osprey convene a meeting of the Society of Omega Survivors to discuss the news they received and what to do about it, they will be unavailable to write for the foreseeable future.

I am not privy to their discussions, nor should I be—I spent no time at Outpost Omega and cannot know its soldier sisterhood; cannot know what that border base meant to them and still does. All I can do now is to continue with my classes and occasionally visit father.

The latter is slowly improving in health, perchance helped in part by Wind Whistler’s presence, who has rarely left his side. As it has now been well over two weeks since his surgery, they have finally been able to stop suppressing his body’s natural magic and healing ability.

Thus, at long last he is starting to regain some strength; able to leave his bed and walk short distances. Flight can only come later—much later—for him, as the wing must now be slowly strengthened over time. After five decades of not using it, he must now learn how to do so all over again.

But he has followed this continuing story with great interest, including the parley scenes and news of Omega’s fate. The former he missed entirely as he was on the bridge the whole time, and thus declined to pen any part of the last chapter. He simply felt ‘twas best left to those present, with his main wish being for then-Captain Shady to get her due.

The latter, predictably, has said that we made her out to be too much of a hero—that no Captain of the Royal Navy, even back then, would have acceded to such outrageous demands as the thestrals issued.

Perchance that is true, but at a time when matters were tense and to show any weakness could have been disastrous, you stood stalwart, Commodore. By your cool nerve under extreme pressure, we were able to keep our airship and accomplish our mission without bloodshed—though ‘twas certain we would be threatened again before we left thestral lands. Both by the bat-ponies, and by our own.

In any event, since methinks he has more energy and is now all too eager, ‘tis time for Father to pick up the pen again.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Thank you, my daughter. ‘Tis Admiral Tailwind writing, and perchance I can finally pen a new entry without having to stop and rest every few minutes. ‘Tis been an ordeal to say the least, and methinks I am thoroughly tired of hospital beds and food; thoroughly tired of not being able to walk the decks of my beloved airships and continue to command the fleet.

I do at least wish readers to know that, for the first time since I was a Naval Ensign at age 23, I was able to move my rebuilt wing, which had been paralyzed and useless since a piece of deck rigging snapped and struck it. ‘Tis an injury a pegasus never ultimately gets used to, losing their ability to fly, but for the first time, it twitched and I must now undergo a series of interminable treatments to gradually restore its functions.

I do wish Silent Night was here at my side to share this long journey, but I like to think she watches over me and our daughters from the Summerlands, even now.

—Admiral Tailwind

Commander, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Polaris
Canterlot

‘Twas to my great relief that the Captain returned from the parley victorious, having stood off a potential thestral attack from what I could only describe as sheer force of will.

We were privy to the conversations between her and the Nightborne Commander on the bridge, listening closely for her orders, both covert and overt. When the Captain gave the “Dusk Dazzle!” call, I obeyed her coded instructions to ignite the ship’s ballonet defenses and gradually increase their power, making clear to the initially belligerent bat-ponies that we would match them threat for threat and escalation for escalation. That if they wanted a fight, they would have one.

Methinks ‘tis fortunate for both sides they did not, as I had no wish to engage them. Not only because our success was unlikely at best against such numbers and unknown tactics as they had, but because they were very much part of Naval lore.

The Royal Navy, it cannot be emphasized enough, was once Princess Luna’s service just as the Royal Guard is Princess Celestia’s. For the Navy to go to war with those who had once crewed it seemed… inharmonious is the only word that immediately comes to mind, and I found myself praying that we would not be forced to defend the ship against them.

Thanks to the Captain, we were not, and at her orders, we withdrew from thestral lands. But the danger was far from over.

For the Sake of All

EAS Loyalty
Just north of Lake Luna on Thestralslovakian border
September 4th, 1139 AC
0002 hours

“Captain on the Bridge!” the customary call from the ship’s mainly unicorn security detail went up as Captain Shady reentered the bridge, followed by—

Everyone stopped to stare at the dark-furred, bat-winged newcomer wearing an exotic uniform and rank insignia I roughly recognized as a Nightborne Colonel. ‘Twould seem that the tales of their extreme sensitivity to light were true, as although the lights on the bridge were low, she grimaced at the bright glow of various crystal controls and displays, her slitted eyes watering.

Shady noticed quickly. “My apologies, Colonel. If all stations would be so kind as to dim their instrument displays—”

“‘Tis no need.” The thestral mare spoke in a thick but understandable accent, pulling out a set of what looked like flight goggles from a uniform pouch and donning them, sighing with relief as she pulled them on. From our point of view, they looked completely opaque, giving no sense of her eyes beneath. That in turn left me wondering why they hadn’t been wearing them when they’d first menaced our ship, given we could have dazzled them with flare shells and flash spells, leaving them easy prey for our archers and pegasi. “I would advise that all shipboard lights be turned off for your approach, however, else this vessel will be like a lighthouse in the fog to Nightborne eyes.”

“Our approach? Then we are going to Cloudsdale, Captain?” I asked Shady hopefully.

“We are,” she confirmed tersely as she reached her command chair, “and without permission, just as soon as we lay some mists.” She clicked a gem button on the armrest, causing a very specific tone to sound. “All available on-duty Air Wing and Corps pegasi report at once to the topmost observation deck for weather work. You will follow the instructions of Corps Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt and Master Sergeant Firefly. Shady out.”

“Impressive,” the Colonel pronounced as she looked around the bridge, her hidden eyes seeming to settle briefly on the darker coat and tufted ears of Lieutenant Azimuth, who was staring at her in something approaching awe. “Your airship ‘tis far more advanced than what we recalled of our long-ago service in Luna’s Navy.”

“Thank you, Colonel. I would offer you a drink and a tour, but time is pressing,” Shady replied. “Everypony, this is Colonel Aegir Ale of the Nightborne Army. She has very honorably—and against explicit orders—agreed to escort us to Cloudsdale.”

“I thank you for your kindness, Captain, though I fear I will not have my rank much longer.” She slumped slightly before turning to Lieutenant Azimuth. “As ‘twould seem you are the navigator, I will give you the city’s coordinates and a path to proceed on. With your permission, that is, Captain…?” she caught herself.

“Granted,” Shady invited, and Aegir Ale immediately trotted over, ignoring the eyes on her.

I couldn’t help note that Aries Azimuth treated her almost reverently as she helped him plot the course.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later a thick fog had set in courtesy of pegasi efforts. Thanks in large measure to the meteorological mind of Corps Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt, they’d enclosed us in clouds by generating simple but gentle updrafts from below.

“We’re hidden, ma’am,” I said perchance needlessly as nothing was visible out any viewports; even the blood-red moon was shrouded, leaving me wondering briefly how long the Princess would keep it at such an ominous hue.

“Then ‘tis time we make our way to Cloudsdale. All decks, rig for silent running! All lights are to be extinguished, and anything that makes noise is to be turned off or secured. Flash Fix, you are to keep our propellers as quiet as possible,” she reminded him, speaking softly into her communication crystal as if afraid the volume of her voice would carry the ten miles distance to the border.

“Aye, ma’am! If ‘twould help, perchance we could slap a soundproofing spell over me bairns as well—“

“Do not do so!” the Nightborne Colonel stated urgently, gaining our immediate attention. “We can detect unicorn spellcasting, even at a distance. If my brethren sense a sudden flurry of spells getting steadily closer, they will go on immediate alert. For us to not be detected as we cross the border, you must use as little magic as possible—even levitation spells and communication crystal use must be eliminated once we begin our approach!”

“I see…” Shady frowned and exchanged a glance with me. “That is troubling. For methinks ‘twould also mean that they would sense a sudden absence of such spells as well.”

Aegir Ale fell silent; the movement of her facial muscles giving the impression she blinked hard beneath her light-filtered goggles. “I… did not consider that. But I fear you are correct, Captain. For all spellcasting to suddenly cease would also be deeply suspicious to an alert unit—which my regiment is. In this matter, I fear I drilled my forces too well.” She went downcast.

“Not at all, Colonel. So we somehow need to approach without any magical emissions whilst still making it seem like we remain here. Any suggestions, Mister Tailwind?” Shady turned to me.

Thankfully, I had one, having come up with it as I listened to them talk. “Load up a lifeboat or two with unicorns and give them some ship communication crystals. Tell them to act as if they’re doing regular duties and continually use a few levitation or communication spells.”

“An excellent idea. But would it work?” Shady turned back to the Nightborne Colonel, who thought about it only to shake her head in defeat.

“I fear not. We are also alert to any changes in magical patterns; both type and frequency, and we have had plenty of time to establish yours. ‘Tis doubtful to me that a few unicorns on a lifeboat could exactly duplicate normal shipboard operations. And if my forces sense your patterns suddenly change…”

“Then they’ll still be alerted,” Shady grimaced, and this time I had no suggestions, uncertain how we would thread this particular needle.

“I believe I have an answer, ma’am,” Firefly’s voice suddenly sounded over the air wing crystals; she’d been listening into our conversation as was her due for being commander of the Corps contingent. “Summon First Sergeant Still Way to the bridge and explain to him our situation. I believe his rather potent and unique magical arts may be the solution to this quandary…”

Indeed he was, and ‘twas to his great credit, Admiral. I am no stranger to unusual magics, but even I had never heard of what he came up with to assist us. ‘Tis worth noting that ‘twas his Still Way Technique that eventually enabled me to fully understand and master my bad luck power, and ‘twas this first display of his abilities—along with the many to follow—that eventually led me to seeking him and his teachings out.

This is Commodore Shady speaking again. ‘Twould seem the Admiral has gone into one of his half-day therapy and exercise sessions, for which I envy neither him nor the healers and pegasus trainers who bear the thankless task of rehabilitating his wing. Though normally easygoing, the Admiral has very little patience with lack of progress, including his own, even though he must accept that only a very slow progression can restore his long-absent flying abilities after fifty years without.

I have returned to Stalliongrad with the Loyalty now, but he is sending me regular updates on his progress, including his writings, asking me to continue the story from here. Though he is perfectly capable of doing so himself, perchance he wishes to make sure that the spotlight does not stray too long from me.

I would tell him not to concern himself with such things—‘tis certain I am not interested in glory, only duty, as well he knows—but as I think about it, mayhap he sees these works as helping to glorify the Royal Navy itself, rather than either of us. Methinks I will have to ask him about that later.

—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad

EAS Loyalty
Just north of Lake Luna on Thestralslovakian border
September 4th, 1139 AC
0027 hours

Still Way answered the Bosun’s call promptly.

Though he’d stationed himself to guard the ship’s steerage and propulsion, his presence alone along the unicorn guards he’d been training being a very potent defense, he arrived on the bridge within seconds, teleporting to the forward observation deck and then presenting himself to the sentries for entry—the ship’s anti-teleport intrusion enchantments prevented him from teleporting into, but not out of, restricted areas.

He listened patiently as we explained what we needed, greeting Aegir Ale with not even a hint of surprise.

“I see…” He closed his eyes and smiled; his manner almost disconcertingly serene. “Yes, I can be the decoy you seek. Give me but a single lifeboat, and I will remain behind to impersonate the ship.”

Aegir Ale’s ears flicked notably as she tilted her head slightly, giving him a dubious look. “Forgive me for asking, but… how?” she wanted to know as the rest of us exchanged quizzical glances—we’d certainly had a taste of the First Sergeant’s magical talents, as he had quickly imparted some very valuable new defensive spells to our unicorn security teams, but this seemed several levels above simple shield and shroud spells. “You are just one unicorn. Methinks you cannot duplicate all the magical emissions of this ship!”

“Be assured, Colonel, that I can,” he promised with a coy grin. “If you will excuse me, I will require but a minute to prepare…” He closed his eyes in concentration, and his horn glowed with an unknown spell that I found to be surprisingly weak; one I probably couldn’t even have detected outside the bridge.

The promised sixty seconds passed before he opened his eyes again. “There. I have recorded a minute’s worth of the ship’s normal magical energy emissions; all the unicorn spells as well as communications and other incantations. To mimic the ship, I can simply stay behind in its original location, and then broadcast it back on an endless loop.”

‘Tis certain I didn’t know what to say to that. “I do not doubt your abilities, First Sergeant, but even I can tell your aura is still weak after your exertion in the Epsilon battles. Do you have enough magic remaining?”

“I do not,” he admitted, leaving us confused as to why he was still smiling and seemed so confident. “My internal reserves remain low. But I can simply draw energy from the lifeboat’s engine crystal to power my spell. Methinks it will last long enough to get you to Cloudsdale.”

“But then you wouldst be stranded there. And easy prey should the thestrals realize the ruse,” Tailwind warned him, to which he only shrugged.

“They would have to enter Equestrian territory to reach me. And methinks they would not be so brazen.”

“And if they are?” I had to ask.

“Then I will allow myself to be captured, and look forward to being freed later.” He offered easily. “Be assured that should they attempt to harm me, they will learn that even in my weakened state, I am not so easily overcome.”

“So be it,” I said, then sent him to the nearest lifeboat and let him launch it. Once he had taken position in the fog clear of the ship, I ordered all shipboard magic use by unicorns to stop and the communication crystals shut down. This meant resorting to primitive soundphones to communicate to the lower decks, which were little more than two cans attached by acoustically conductive strings that made their source sound like they were calling through a long tunnel.

The ceasing of our shipboard spellcasting was Still Way’s signal to begin broadcasting; I had no way to detect him given my meager magical awareness but other unicorns on the bridge confirmed he was. “Then let us be off. Mister Sora, come about to heading one-three-zero and engage engines. All ahead one-third,” I ordered.

“One-three-zero and engage engines. All ahead one-third, aye,” he echoed, his voice quiet.

“Very well. Colonel?” I stepped aside. “’Tis now up to you to guide us in.”

On Approach

“Thank you, Captain. Bridge crew, I assume the watch.” Aegir Ale repeated the line I’d told her to say. She removed her goggles as the bridge was now dark, lit only by a single firegem on minimal brightness over the navigation table and the glow of her cat-eyes, which was unquestionably eerie and disconcerting. Before we killed the lights, she donned some sort of odd contraption strapped around the back of her head, covering the base of her ears.

She then closed her eyes for a bit—which I could only tell when the glow of them disappeared—and I wasn’t sure what she was doing until abruptly, she opened them again three minutes later.

“There is increased activity on our communications channels. I fear my deadline for return has passed.”

“Which means what?” Tailwind asked.

“Which means they suspect something is wrong but believe the ship is still present where it was. They are now deploying to screen the border and calling back for further orders.”

“Can we avoid them?” I followed up.

“I selected this heading to take us wide of my regiment’s patrol sector. However, other flanking regiments will soon be called in. Though perchance the fact that they think the ship is still in its previous location will delay that. Now I must ask that you all remain silent so I can listen in on our communications,” she requested, leaving me wondering how she could—whatever communication method the thestrals were using, I detected no magical energy involved.

‘Twas a question for later, however. Nothing more was said by her for several minutes more, until abruptly—“Helm! Stop the engines and cease approach!” she whispered urgently.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it!” she hissed out sharply in the thestral manner, and hearing the warning note in her voice, Sora obeyed, pulling the lever back and stilling the propellers, which slowly spun to a stop.

“Colonel…?” I prompted.

“A patrol from a neighboring regiment is close,” she said tersely. “They’re not looking for us, but methinks they might stumble on us if we’re not careful. The sound of the engines might give us away…” she said, and ‘tis certain everypony’s heart rate increased at her words of warning; I could suddenly hear my own pulse pounding hard in my head, perchance worse than if I was giving orders. But for now, I was but a passenger on my own airship, and I was not privy to whatever communications Aegir Ale was eavesdropping on.

A minute later, she gave the all-clear. “Helmspony—resume course. Come right—er, starboard—to one-four-zero and descend seven hundred feet in altitude. Increase speed to… one-half?” I could just see her shadow turning to me for confirmation, and I gave it with a nod. I couldn’t see anything in front of me, but she apparently could. “One-half,” she said again with more confidence.

“Come to one-four-zero and increase to one-half speed,” Sora echoed with a note of tension; we swore the increased thrum of the engines was far louder than we were used to at that moment, making it seem to us like they could not but be heard by the thestral patrols. “Making my altitude seven-eight-zero-zero,” he further recited, hitting another control to deflate the ballonets slightly to drop the ship to the requested elevation, and I mentally checked his math to find it correct. We had been at 8500 feet—a standard cruising altitude—and subtracting seven hundred feet from that gave the 7800 feet he indicated.

“I’m going to try to slip us between border patrols,” Aegir Ale added as an aside to me. “Standard Nightborne Army platoon patrol procedures are to leave five miles between the four squads, which each come in at different altitudes, with the lowest in front and highest in back. I’m trying to get us below the next one before they reach our area. At our standard patrol speed, that leaves us just four minutes to shoot the gap,” she shortly explained, “and less time than that when we will not be heard.”

“Why not just wait until they’re all passed?” Tailwind asked.

“Because ‘twould take at least twenty minutes, and each minute we delay increases the chances our ploy is discovered! Thus, we dare not delay.”

“Your logic is sound. Proceed,” I invited again, hating the feeling of not being in control of my own ship.

But nor did I have the ability or intelligence to navigate us there myself—only the Colonel did. We were trusting her perchance too much, but in my view, she was trustworthy—for if not, ‘twas an incredibly elaborate and unlikely ruse she was engaging in.

Another six minutes passed without sound or incident, excepting my own pounding heart, and the Nightborne Colonel ultimately exhaled. “We’re clear,” she announced to some released breaths, including my own. “We’re inside Thestralslovakia now, but patrols have passed us without seeing or hearing us. Helmspon—er, Mister Sora—reduce speed to one-third again.”

“One-third, aye,” he replied in some audible relief as he drew back on the speed control lever and the noise of the engines dropped.

“Mister Azimuth, how close are we to Cloudsdale?” Tailwind asked in a low voice.

“About twelve miles,” he reported as he pored over the map table and made some marks on it, though he was navigating by dead reckoning and in very dim light. “We’re approaching obliquely, though. Estimate eighteen minutes to arrival at current pace,” he told us, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to grimace. I badly wanted to order us to speed up and make a dash for the city, but I kept the impulse in check, guessing there was a good reason for not doing so.

“’Tis deliberate,” Aegir Ale confirmed without my prompting. “I’m going in roughly the standard patrol direction around Cloudsdale to buy us more time to deal with them. If we go in directly, we will likely run afoul of flights further back. This way, we increase the time between patrols and I can react to any I detect.”

“Doesn’t Cloudsdale have its own patrols out?” Tailwind asked.

“No,” she replied shortly, the severe stress in her voice evident as she attempted to maintain her focus in the face of a very daunting task. Methinks I could not blame her for being terse, trying as she was to both listen in on her side’s communications whilst piloting a large airship in the dark for the first time.

“We told the surviving Corps and militia forces there to stay within the city, lest they be sighted flying by griffon spies and thus give away not only the city’s position, but the fact we were harboring them. Now be silent!” she hissed again, even more sharply, holding a hoof to her ear not unlike what Ensign Kusema did when she was listening in on communication crystals, leaving me wondering again exactly what the Colonel’s curious contraption was and how it worked.

Another nine minutes—and two more changes of course and altitude—followed. But our luck was holding as we got past another pair of patrols, and we were less than five minutes away. We were close and I had just started to relax when Aegir Ale hissed and swore violently.

Found Out

“They know we’re coming!” she nearly shouted, making us all jump. “I know not how, but they detected the ruse! Multiple regiments are scrambling from Cloudsdale with orders to locate and board us! They’ve been ordered to prevent your arrival at all costs, and deadly force is authorized!” she announced in further dismay. “Captain—against that density of soldiers with thestral sight and hearing, methinks there is no way we can make it the rest of the way unseen!”

Our subterfuge was uncovered. The situation was dire. And yet, I actually relaxed when I heard her warning, for now ‘twas my ship again, and ‘twas up to me to command it. “Then methinks there’s no point in hiding any longer! Mister Sora, bring us on a direct course for the city! Come to one-nine-zero and all ahead flank speed!”

“One-nine-zero and all ahead, flank speed, aye!” he shouted back, spinning the wheel and slamming the speed lever forward as I tapped a crystal on my bridge chair. I knew full well I’d be lighting a beacon to the bat-ponies by doing so, but it mattered not. For speed—and not stealth—was our only savior now.

“All crew! The Nightborne know we’re coming! We’re making a run for the city at maximum speed! Secure ship from boarding but do not fire unless fired upon! Mister Tailwind, prepare to ignite the ballonet defenses on my orders!” I spoke quickly, not waiting for acknowledgements from any of them before moving on to my next instruction.

The engines came up quickly and we began to surge forward, surpassing eighty, then ninety, then one hundred knots; a speed that would get us over the outskirts of Cloudsdale in less than two minutes.

“They’ve detected us, Captain!” Aegir Ale warned. “Multiple battalions closing! They’ll arrive in sixty seconds!”

“Doesn’t matter! Ensign Kusema! Call out on all Cloudsdale Militia and Corps communications channels! Tell them we’re inbound in ninety seconds but the thestrals do not want us getting there! Ask for their immediate assistance!”

“Aye-aye!” she said as she fumbled with her console, the lights on the bridge quickly coming up as we restored power to our systems; as I watched, Still Way’s shield shrouds fell over doorways and portals, buying us some additional time in case of boarding actions.

“Call acknowledged, ma’am!” she said in relief, her curious weapon still strapped to her back. “The Corps commander already knew something was up when the thestrals left suddenly! He says he’s scrambling a battalion of his own to meet us! He requests an indication of where we are!”

“Then let’s show him! Mister Tailwind! Ignite dirigible defenses at full power!” I told him, and his response was shortly drowned out by the massive crackle of electricity above us; gold-hued flashes of sparks flying in every direction instead of the pink-colored ones we’d seen before.

The latter was because the shield and lightning spells didn’t have the added energy of the main armament crystal behind it, as we’d used in the Epsilon battles. But I judged that regular power alone would be sufficient to dissuade leather-clad thestral soldiers, as opposed to well-protected Knights and Talons wearing enchanted armor and supported by Gryphon Mages.

And ‘twould also be lighting us up in a display easily visible through the mists all the way from Cloudsdale.

“They see us!” Kusema announced in some relief as the first calls came in of approaching thestrals in the thinning mists. “They’re on their way!”

“And so are the Nightborne…” Tailwind warned. “Should we launch our air wing and the Corps soldiers?”

“No! That will cause a battle for certain!” Aegir Ale was near panic. “Captain! Please! Whatever means you have to amplify your voice to be heard outside, give it to me! I can avert a war! I can talk them down!” she pleaded, her wing claws tugging on my sleeve.

Though surprised at the gesture—their wing claws meant they certainly had far more grasping ability than pegasus feathers!—I didn’t hesitate, grabbing a general quarters crystal and turning it on, making sure it was keyed for an all-points broadcast. ‘Twas certain the thestrals would not listen to me, but perchance one of their own could make them see reason.

She grabbed it immediately in her wing claws and held it to her lips, speaking quickly in her native Roamarean tongue, which was translated by a gem in my ear. “Hear me, my fellow Nightborne! This is Colonel Aegir Ale, commander of the 3rd division’s 8th regiment! You know me as a good and honorable soldier! I am aboard, so on my authority, do not attack! For the sake of peace between our nations, and regardless of your orders, you must allow the airship through!”

To my relief, that caused the approaching thestral formations to hesitate, several lower-ranked squad and platoon commanders calling back for instructions even as they formed a thick cloud around the ship, keeping their distance from the sparking ballonets. I heard Tailwind give an order to load the conventional cannons with flare shells, but I wasn’t sure how much good they would do if the thestral soldiers had donned their protective goggles, which seemed likely as I saw no glowing eyes.

Order vs Honor

“Colonel Ale?” a booming voice called out in a tone both angry and tinged with disgust. “This is Major General Muscadine! If you are here, then you are a traitor to all Thestralslovakia! You may consider yourself relieved and under arrest for this illegal action!”

“I care not, General! I challenge both your orders and your fitness for command!” Aegir Ale replied instantly and heatedly. “‘Tis certain to me you have lied about the Lunar Council’s instructions, and are deliberately trying to bring about war!”

“How dare you!” The General’s voice sounded too shrill, even distorted by whatever loudspeaker method he was using. “I am a soldier following my orders, as you are supposed to! And the orders of the council were clear! Their ship was to be seized and they were not to be allowed into thestral lands!”

“In direct violation of the treaty with Equestria?” she asked in disbelief, and the thestral soldiers began glancing at each other uncertainly. “If those orders are genuine, then the Council is full of foals! But if, as I suspect, they are not, then the traitor is you, General!”Aegir Ale spat back to a strangled sound from her division commander. “Even if the Lunar Council recommended such an idiotic course of action, I cannot believe that Viceroy Chardonnay would ever have approved it! In any event, it matters not—I am taking the ponies to Cloudsdale, as should have been my orders from the start!”

“Then you will die with them!” The General promised. “All regiments! You have your orders! Destroy the EAS Loyalty!”

“In full view of the Cloudsdale pegasi?” Aegir Ale pointed out with a sneer, freezing the few soldiers who started moving towards us in their tracks. “And what, by Luna’s Moon, do you think their reaction will be to seeing an Equestrian airship who was only trying to contact them attacked?” she challenged as suddenly two hundred Corps soldiers reached us, charging right through the thestral formations without resistance to quickly form a protective cordon around the airship, though they kept carefully below the level of the sparking ballonets.

“It matters not! War with Equestria is inevitable, so it may as well begin here! Soldiers! I ordered you to attack!” The General’s voice got more shrill as his instructions were not instantly obeyed.

“General, see reason! Cloudsdale’s population is in the tens of thousands! Do you think even the entire division could hold them down if you start a war with Equestria right in front of them?”

“She’s right!” a new voice broke in, this one speaking Equish into a standard Corps issue blue command gem to amplify his voice from just off the bow. “This is Sergeant Major Rolling Thunder, acting commander of all Cloudsdale defense forces! We have accepted your hospitality to this point and obeyed all your instructions, General, odd and overly-restrictive though they seemed!

“But if you attack our own, your true intentions will be made plain! And be assured, all Cloudsdale will rise up against you, just as they did against the gryphons!” he warned, his two centuries of soldiers brandishing their wingblades.

“Very well! So what will it be, General?” Aegir Ale called out in Equish this time as the thestral formations began to visibly waver and Cloudsdale came fully into view, her normally bright night lights extinguished. “Will we have a just peace and an honorable obeying of our treaty? Or a battle with the sky city we cannot win followed by a war both sides will lose?”

“I care not, as that treaty was never honorable!” Muscadine all but snarled. “My oath was to serve the interests of the Moon regardless of what those idiotic wine-sipping bureaucrats in Hollow Shades think! I serve a higher purpose than petty politics, as should the entire Nightborne Army! This city is our prize and one we can use to curry favor with the Empire! Equestria is as much our enemy as theirs, and this will gain us an ally against them!

“Now enough talk! My orders are given! All regiments! For the glory of the moon and all Thestralslovakia, attac—” there was a sudden gurgling sound that was quickly cut off followed by the leaden thump of something large hitting the floor.

“Hold!” Rolling Thunder and Aegir Ale called out in their respective languages whilst we waited for whatever was happening on the other end to resolve.

Twenty seconds later, a new voice was heard, this one female. “This is Brigadier General Blackhawk, formerly commander of the first brigade. The Major General has been removed from his post,” she announced in a dull voice, speaking in Roamarean before switching to Equish.

“As senior officer, I assume command of the 3rd division and order all regiments to safe their weapons and escort the EAS Loyalty to Cloudsdale. It should now be clear to all listening that the Major General was not acting in accordance with the Lunar Council’s instructions, and I thus offer my sincerest apologies to the Loyalty’s Captain and all aboard.” I could just hear the sound of a blade being sheathed in the background.

The Colonel collapsed with relief, falling to her knees beside me as all her tension was released at once. “Th-thank you, General.” She hid her face behind a wing, perchance to hide her sudden tears from all the doubts and fears she’d been suppressing; methinks ‘twas only then I truly understood how hard it had been for her and how much it had taken out of her.

“You are welcome, Colonel Ale. ‘Twas a very brave and daring deed you did. And when you feel able, I request to speak with you and the ship’s Captain privately, on board the airship.”

“I am Captain Shady of the Loyalty. ‘Twill be my pleasure to welcome you aboard, General,” I stretched out my head to speak into the crystal Colonel Ale was still clutching, laying a hoof on her shaking back.

“Your Colonel is very honorable, and she should be commended for her willingness to act in the face of her orders to preserve the peace. But before you arrive, please allow us to dock and greet our brethren, and we will then be happy to receive you…”

As I read through this section, I find old and decidedly unpleasant memories reawakened of an-all-too-similar situation I would face later with far higher stakes; a decision I would be both lauded and condemned for to this day.

But that story comes much later, and methinks I do not wish to dwell upon it now. ‘Tis worth noting that the Empire, and even the Kingdom to a lesser extent, would not brook such flagrant disregard of orders and usurping the chain of command as the General showed, even in the pursuit of what he perceived as some greater good.

But this situation would present us with a severe quandary, as not one but two high-ranking commanders did so—one to defy his orders and the other to defy him, even though the latter had no evidence except her own suspicions that he was contravening his duty and substituting his judgement for those of his leaders.

‘Tis a difficult dilemma, and I do not envy Colonel Aegir Ale for facing it. But perchance the difference here is that she was attempting to stave off war and act in the interest of both sides, whilst the General acted to cause a war and force his nation to side with the Empire against Equestria.

Mayhap he thought himself selfless for doing so. But I strongly suspect even through these readings that he wished for war not out of what was best for his nation, but out of a simple desire to wage war on Celestia. ‘Tis no doubt in my mind that he was ultimately acting in his own interests rather than those of Thestralslovakia, and ‘tis to Aegir Ale’s credit and the eventual benefit of both nations that she saw through his scheme.

—Layan Kaval
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot

After-Action Reports

Imperial Headquarters
Eagle Aerie Supply Base
Outside Cirrus Cassada
September 04, 1139 AC
0025 hours

As we entered the fourth day of the invasion of Equestria, with the Prelate electing to direct operations from our main supply base and marshall point for arriving troops until his mobile headquarters was reestablished, the reorganization of frontline units was nearly completed.

With the advance south and west scheduled to resume on all fronts at dawn—we would have much preferred dusk to take advantage of our superior night vision, but our forces needed rest and reassigned commanders additional time to get settled—‘twas decided to not wait another day for the sake of keeping up the pressure on the still-reeling pony forces, which the Prelate judged more important than waiting for night to fall anew.

As the red moon raised by Celestia reached its apex in the sky—I personally enjoyed seeing it, as ‘twas the color of combat and might well unsettle the ponies further—we were still receiving after-action reports from the major first-day operations, including the attack on Cloudsdale.

We had only just received word back from the raid on Fort Spur as well, courtesy of the Office of Owls, who passed us a hastily written report by the raid’s surviving senior NCO; a First Spear Wind Knight. She and the remnants of her attack force had been recovered by offshore ships placed to receive them. She regretted to report that despite severe damage and casualties, the Fort still stood, and worse, the raid commander—Centurion Pylea, one of my best and most trusted Talaeus warriors—was dead, slain by the very pony she had been assigned to kill.

‘Twas a doubly bitter blow for the knowledge that the raid had been planned by me; a fact the Primarch took great pains to remind me of. But her opinion mattered far less than the Prelate’s, who openly reserved judgement until he knew more. In the meantime, ‘twas time to examine the results of the long-distance raid on Cloudsdale by over two millennia of Wind Knights—fully a third of our available contingent at the start of the campaign—that had resulted in an astounding and unacceptable 90% casualty rate amongst our best aerial troops.

To be certain, they had mostly succeeded in their task despite their losses, destroying almost all of the weather factory including the all-important Storm Cloud production facilities, wiping out their existing stockpiles of storm clouds as well.

But they had failed to slay most of the workers, which, it must be said, were indeed targets of our attack. I will not justify it here as the debate has already been held previously on both sides of the former battle lines, but ‘twas a deliberate decision to ensure that the plant could not be quickly rebuilt or easily restored to operation after our raid.

The reports of what had befallen our forces were almost too fanciful to believe, ranging from a city populace that had risen up en masse to expel their invaders, and incredibly, a single pony warrior decimating entire centuries of elite Knights; even wiping out entire teams of highly trained Ravens.

Interviews with numbed and traumatized survivors told of a gray-furred and gold-maned pegasus stallion who wielded lightning like a Magus and could even slay them with it, turning the very skies against them and organizing the surviving weather factory workers to effectively resist.

He had been identified by the Owls as Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt, a former Aerial Corps officer in large measure responsible for the many atrocities inflicted against Imperial citizens some twelve years earlier, during a retaliatory operation against the Lucavi raider group that had nearly resulted in war when it devastated half the province. Nicknamed the “Lightning Demon” by both the Lucavi and now our surviving Knights, ‘twas said his mere presence had instantly turned the tide of battle wherever he had been.

And even where he had not been, the ponies had repulsed the lesser of our two attack prongs without his help, using olden shields of unknown make that had been proof against Magus attacks, and some form of lightning magic that had rendered their storm clouds both impervious to our lightning release spells and far more able to defeat Knight armor.

The latter was particularly alarming to our battered Knight formations, who had found themselves facing volleys of twenty lightning bolts their armor could not protect them from, and were finally forced to retreat from the militia base in their face.

But the larger assault in the weather factory had also faltered in the face of overwhelming numbers of well-organized civilians and two surprise counterattacks, the second coming from a reinforcing cohort-sized Corps force that had dove out of the sun and caught them looking the wrong way.

‘Twas a grim picture, and though certainly a major victory for meeting most of its assigned—and very critical—objectives, ‘twas a very heavy price to pay.

We were interviewing the surviving Raven leader, whose name I will hide behind an alias for the sake of her kin. “‘Twas like nothing I ever saw… or even thought possible!” Optio Travina told the Prelate in a trembling voice, nursing her tea with one set of talons whilst her other remained in a sling, her body bearing an array of healing bruises, burns and blade wounds.

“He could not be slain. He could not be stopped. All who attempted to engage him perished.” Her eyes held a hauntedlook in them as she continued. “Methinks I cannot explain it—’twas not his strength or speed that slew us, horrific though they were; ‘twas that he knew our movements before we did! He knew instinctively what to do regardless of who he faced! And by using such awful abilities, he killed my team effortlessly!” Her talons began to shake.

“And how did you survive?” The Prelate asked gently as the Primarch frowned behind him. Methinks Salvio Gaius would normally have been disgusted at such a tone of terror from those who were supposed to be the most fearless of our forces. But she was hardly the first to show such symptoms; the mere mention of the pony in question produced visible consternation and occasionally outright fright in Knight and Raven alike.

She blinked, as though coming out of a trance, and then looked down in shame. “I was stunned by a lightning bolt that impacted near me and then a wall fell on top of me, wounding but hiding me. The cloud below cushioned me enough to survive, but with a broken arm and rib. I hid there until nightfall, and then kept to the shadows before diving off the side of the city.”

“So you flew all the way back to our lines in that state?” Even the Prelate seemed impressed, motioning to her bandages with a pointed talon.

“Yes,” she said without any hint of pride. “Twas that or be captured and killed by vengeful ponies. Thankfully, the 7th Legion’s advance reached me and I presented myself to them. Once I was treated, I returned to Cirrus Cassida to make my report.”

“Shameful,” The Primarch pronounced. “’Twould appear the Owl’s pets have gone soft!”

“Commendable,” the Prelate retorted. “I am impressed that you survived and made it back to our lines, Optio. Sometimes merely living to tell the tale is triumph enough. Will you recover?”

“I am told I will be fully healed and battleworthy again by tomorrow, My Lord,” she answered carefully, leaving me wondering about her mental state as opposed to her physical one. Many Knights, even longtime veterans, were suffering from battle shock after losing far too many of their comrades at Cloudsdale to both Thunderbolt and the civilian uprising; there had even been at least one suicide.

“I see. That is fortunate. For as we are now short on Ravens until additional teams arrive, I can use you,” the Prelate told her. “I will give you a fresh team. As you are already familiar with the city, I need you to find and infiltrate Cloudsdale again.”

For the first time in my life, I saw a Raven stiffen in fear. “M-my lord, I—”

“But this time, you are not to engage in battle or attract attention to yourselves,” he quickly added. “I require an intelligence gathering mission—not assassination.”

“As my Prelate wishes,” she said in some relief, visibly struggling to master her fears of a demon of death whom she knew she had been lucky to survive once. “And my team’s objectives…?”

“Steal one of those shields that repelled Magus magic, and discover whatever strange means they used to produce that altered lightning, bringing it back if possible,” he told her. “If you can, also perform a post-damage assessment on the weather factory, but only if you feel ‘tis safe to do so. Your primary objectives are to obtain the items stated and return them to our lines. And ‘twould be greatly preferable that you not be seen doing it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to steel herself. “Do we know where the city is?”

“Not precisely. We believe ‘tis likely to be located here—” he paused long enough to tap a circled area on the map “—hidden just outside thestral lands, shrouded by the mists of the Foal Mountains. ‘Tis the only place it could have gone unseen, and ‘twould explain why the city has not been sighted by Owl agents in major pony cities since the initial attack,” he mused. “The Owls will give you a full briefing and assign your new team. I expect your departure no later than noon tomorrow, covered by our renewed offensive. And Optio…?”

She didn’t immediately reply, her beak visibly quivering as she stared at the map. “Optio!” the Prelate said more sharply, causing her to look up.

His expression softened. “I would not ask this of you but for the fact you are now the only ranking Raven left with knowledge of the city. I realize you are still suffering, as many who took part in the raid are, but I would suggest you might yet salve your pain with a successful mission. Avoid contact. Obtain what we need. And whilst you do so, be assured your fallen comrades will be avenged, and the demon that slew them will die.”

“Thank you, Prelate.” She drew herself up and saluted, unable to quite restrain the trembling of her foreleg. “I thank you for your confidence. Now if you wouldst excuse me, I must prepare for my task.”

“Of course,” he returned the gesture. “For Empress and Honor.”

* * * * *

She had barely departed before the Primarch spoke up. “So yet another costly victory befalls us, and then you refuse to follow up its hard-won success? I fail to see what we gain by sending in a single Raven team. Cloudsdale is crippled and vulnerable! If we know even its rough location, then we should launch a second strike against it immediately!”

“Your counsel and complete lack of strategic sense are duly noted, Primarch,” Salvio Gaius replied acidly as he rolled up a map scroll.

“I lack strategic sense? Methinks you are the one failing to obey the most basic of predator instincts to finish off wounded prey!”

The Prelate’s eyes flashed. “Because our objective there was met, Primarch, despite the losses we suffered!” he explained with the air of a sire talking down to a cub. “And since you are clearly unable to think in any tactical terms except brute force, allow me to put it simply: if we go after the city again now with our remaining Wind Knights that deep into their territory, we risk an even bloodier repulse and a defeat they could sing from the rooftops!

“And worse, if they are hiding out in the Foal Mountains near the Thestralslovakian border as the Owls suspect, we would also risk antagonizing the bat-ponies and driving them into Celestia’s camp in enough time for them to make a difference!” he spelled it out, and then exhaled sharply.

“Far too costly though ‘twas to us, our initial attack on Cloudsdale succeeded. The weather factory is destroyed and their storm cloud production ended for the foreseeable future. They will have no choice but to turn all their remaining civilian cloud stocks to military use, thus crippling their weather control.

“They will in turn be forced to allow normal weather patterns to reestablish themselves across the continent in order to water their farms—indeed, Celestia has already called for exactly that!” He tapped an Office of Owls intercept showing her latest set of General Orders to her forces. “‘Twill all be to our advantage. For we are used to operating in natural weather conditions. They are not. And ‘tis certain their civilian morale will suffer as they see their nation no longer in control of the elements of nature they once commanded.”

“And what of the Lightning Demon?” I asked as I skimmed through the rather impressive Owl dossier on him, feeling a rare thrill go through me at the thought that this Lieutenant Thunderbolt might—might—be an actual challenge to a warrior such as me. “Methinks we need not risk any more rank-and-file soldiers against him. In their place, let me go after him, My Lord! I know I can slay him.” I stood up straight before the Prelate in offering.

He considered my suggestion for a moment, only to shake his head. “No.” He held up a wing to forestall my protest. “One pony, no matter how skilled, cannot defeat this invasion, my friend, and any killings in the city would attract attention when we want none. In truth, methinks he did not even defeat this raid, as he accounted for but a century and a third of soldiers and would have been swiftly slain by our mages had reinforcements not arrived.” He motioned down to the various report scrolls.

“Be that as it may, he is a threat to our forces and could be a rallying point for theirs, My Lord,” I tried again. “I can infiltrate the city with Optio Travina’s team; find him and finish him. His apparent bloodlust and ability to inspire makes him dangerous,” I motioned down at the ominous Owl reports on him, describing a nigh-invincible adversary who hated gryphons and had once slaughtered the leadership of the Lucavi Raider Group—as well as the civilians they were hiding among—wholesale. “And thus, methinks ‘twould be best to deal with him sooner rather than later.”

“Dangerous, yes. But controllable? No.” Gaius shook his head. “Your eagerness does you great credit, my friend, and I have no doubt you wouldst be up to the task. But methinks he is less a threat than you think, for such extreme bloodlust as the Owls indicate he possesses does not lend itself to discipline or restraint—as I once had to learn the hard way.” He grimaced for a moment, leaving me wondering of what—or whom—he spoke.

“And what is your point?” The Primarch needled, having been only briefly cowed by the Prelate’s lecture.

Forever beyond your grasp, I admit I was tempted to say, but I let the Prelate deal with her. “The point, Primarch, is that instead of sacrificing a century or more of soldiers in a futile attempt to overwhelm him, we can use his bloodlust against him. ‘Tis certain he can be easily induced to charge headlong into our forces at a time and place of our choosing, and if we are ready, he can then be slain quickly and at little cost.

“But that will come later. For now, let the ponies deal with him—if they can.” To my surprise, he closed his eyes and smiled as he spoke his next words. “Methinks they have their work cut out for them. For take it from me—a demon of death such as this Thunderbolt is just as dangerous to his own side as to ours…”

As much as I hate to admit it, methinks the Prelate’s assessment was correct on all counts. For we would find out just how dangerous Thunderbolt truly was to our own side shortly, and that—excepting but a single pony—we were equally helpless against him.

Thank you for your latest entry, Ambassador, and thank you as well for you and Marquis Ampok checking in on my father. Your latest visit was appreciated by both of us, as was the invitation to attend dinner at the embassy with your family upon his discharge. ‘Twill likely be another month before he is recovered enough to accept your hospitality—to our mutual frustration—but ‘tis welcome nonetheless.

On that note, I bring down the curtain on this chapter. ‘Twas in fact my intention to continue with another section, but reading this over now, I believe we have a full entry. I know father would wish me to wait on him to write the next one, which will involve matters near and dear to his heart. Ones that ‘tis certain he will want to offer his own perspectives on.

At this moment in time, we had accomplished two major goals—making contact with Cloudsdale and averting conflict with the thestrals. But all was not well on either front, and very shortly, a new, and far more immediate danger would present itself.

—Firefly

“Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.” —Hannibal (“I will find a way or make one”)

Author's Note

Surprise! I decided the chapter was ready and having two prereads plus one editing pass was enough for now. Any changes suggested by my other prereaders will be incorporated later, and any particularly major changes will be blogged about.

Apologies for not getting to the promised scene regarding revealing who the greatest Equestrian warrior is, but I would have had to double the chapter length here to include it. Best to keep it smaller this time and reserve large chapters for climactic scenes and battles. But don’t worry—it will be in the next chapter for certain, and I am already starting work on it!

Thanks go to AJ_Aficionado and Leo Archon for the prompt prereads, and special well-wishes go to Denim_Blue, who has had a rough winter. Thanks, one and all!

Rally and Recover: 8 - Typhoon Warning

Greetings to all readers yet again. I wish it known before we begin that we dedicate this latest chapter to a pony who has been barely heard from to this point in either of the two volumes, but whose contributions to the war effort were oft-critical.

‘Tis certain he would have considered the events described in this chapter a simple matter of honor and duty, and not anything worthy of remembrance. I must beg to differ. For without his timely arrival, so much would have ended differently, and ‘tis certain in my mind that the Bolt Knights would never have come to be.

There was some debate on the contents of this next chapter, as both my son, my father, and myself all wished to contribute. Swift Strike was offered the pen as well, but he declined, saying he was simply not left aware enough of these events to offer much. Perchance he also does not wish to relive memories of one of his few failures, though ‘tis certain none would hold him responsible for what nearly happened that night.

So Father will open, followed by Gavian, and finally myself. Another entry from Layan Kaval will be included before my own passage, as my old friend and foe has a desire to show more of what was happening behind the Gryphon battle lines; offering his insights into the occasionally difficult strategic dilemmas the Empire and Prelate faced.

I admit I was surprised that Gavian wished to be heard, given what happened. But he insists, saying that he does not shy away from fearful or painful memories, and he wants readers to know how he perceived the events to follow.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Thank you, my daughter. In truth, ‘twas no less fearful or painful a series of events for me, but like my grandson, I believe that makes it all the more necessary to tell the tale.

Greetings again to all readers, both military and civilian, pony and gryphon. ‘Tis Admiral Tailwind again, and my progress, though agonizingly slow, is at least apparent. I have gained another inch of mobility in my rebuilt wing whilst the healers, both Equestrian and gryphon, attempt to induce my long-neglected and atrophied flight muscles to rediscover their old purpose.

There is no magic that ultimately can help that along; ‘tis simply a matter of finding and sparking old connections in hopes that they can yet work again. But that story remains to be finished, just as this one remains to be told. So I will not dwell on my wing or continuing weakness, but rather, distract myself from them by offering up the next perspective in this tale.

—Admiral Tailwind
Commanding Admiral, Royal Navy
Naval Base Polaris
Canterlot

Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
0050 hours

‘Twas with no little relief that the thestral General was… relieved of his command and his subordinate took over his division, ordering her troops to stand down and escort us the rest of the way to Cloudsdale. Though ‘twould also be a lie to say such an extreme action caused no consternation among us, once the initial relief over not being forced into a fight with the bat-ponies had passed.

Many of our mares were in shock that a stallion was so swiftly slain regardless of the circumstances, but ‘twas later explained to us by Aegir Ale herself that ‘twas simply their way. Or more correctly, ‘twas Luna’s way in ages past that the penalty for treason was instant death, and thus, they adhered to her old general orders for Naval conduct that required subordinates to slay their superiors should they engage in treachery, even now.

“The general lied about and hid his orders, substituting his judgment for that of the Lunar Council to bring about war with Equestria. Once that deception was revealed, she acted appropriately,” the Colonel later stated when I asked her about it. “Do not judge us by your own standards, Commander. For we have lived by Luna’s for over three hundred years. Being a stallion does not spare a Nightborne from such penalties, nor should it, else one such as Muscadine could carve out their own private army and fiefdom within our borders.”

I did not press the matter further, and ‘twas difficult to shed tears for the Major General anyway. ‘Tis no lie that ‘twas touch and go on the approach to Cloudsdale, and to Colonel Aegir Ale must go the credit for getting us through and revealing the General’s duplicity. Though the effort took so much out of her emotionally she had to be helped to sickbay afterwards; ‘twould be hours before she was ready to resume her duties and meet her new commander.

‘Twas just as well, as it turned out. The Captain requested the opportunity to greet the pegasi of Cloudsdale, and ‘twas granted promptly as it should always have been. We would learn the full extent of Muscadine’s machinations later, but for now, ‘twas time to make contact with our brethren and find out just what state they were in.

* * * * *

With a Corps escort guiding us, docking at the Central District airship anchorage outside of City Hall took about ten minutes.

Many pegasus crew members were anxious to leave and find their families after the raid the city had suffered, but they were told to wait—that ‘twas night and we had to remain on guard against possible attacks, even if the thestrals seemed no longer a threat. The bat-ponies wisely kept their distance after the near-battle, though they did deliver First Sergeant Still Way to us, who seemed uncharacteristically embarrassed as he returned in the lifeboat with an entire Nightborne squad escorting him.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. ‘Twould seem they found me out far too quickly,” he apologized to the Captain as he stepped off the lifeboat onto the deck. “Even if I know not yet how my magic failed?” He glanced back at his bat-pony escort, who visibly blushed, even in the low light.

They looked at each other, and then at their battalion commander stallion, who bore the insignia of a major and smirked. “Be assured your mimicry spell was perfect, Guardspony—too perfect. We knew something was wrong when we kept sensing the... energies of a rutting unicorn stallion from your ship at the rate of once a minute,” he informed the First Sergeant in front of the ship’s command group, causing a series of blinks and blushes, whilst Fell Flight broke out into a huge grin.

“Either he was the most virile stallion alive, or some chicanery was at play. With apologies to said stallion, we decided ‘twas most likely the latter,” his mare second added with a wink. “We sent a patrol out for a look, and we found him. That’s when we sounded the alarm.”

“I see…” I had the distinct pleasure of seeing the normally serene and unflappable Celestial Guardspony blush whilst Fell Flight began to giggle. “Then ‘twould seem I recorded something I did not mean to...”

“You’re never going to let him live this down, are you?” Firefly asked her snickering second after the bat-ponies had departed.

“Not in a million years, ma’am!” Fell Flight confirmed mirthfully as she returned inside and the loading ramps were lowered to the cloud base.

Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0050 hours

A minute later, the ramps had touched down in the Courtyard of Cloudsdale City Hall, which looked far grander than a simple local governmental office would normally be for a surface city.

‘Twas a relic of a time when Cloudsdale was an independent nation and foreign dignitaries were received there. I had not visited the city much since my injury, but the grandeur of the place had stuck with me; a columnar remnant of the pegasi nation’s more Imperial times. Arriving as late as we had, there were few present except military officials and a few civilians, who had gathered at the base of the ramp to receive us; the escorting Corps pegasi had been sent away to patrol the perimeter of the city.

There were a few low firegem lights in the courtyard, but nothing too bright as the city remained on blackout to keep the gryphons from finding it. Once Still Way had cast a cloudwalking spell on Captain Shady, she and Firefly descended, with their respective seconds—Fell Flight and myself—left aboard as we listened in through their crystal communications.

Gavian was up as well at that hour, standing with me on the upper observation deck overlooking the Courtyard, which finally afforded us some chance to catch up. Despite his desire to be at his adoptive mother’s side, it had been decided ‘twas best to keep him aboard the Loyalty for now, given gryphon faces were likely to be decidedly unwelcome in Cloudsdale following the Imperial attack. Swift Strike was also there in his guise of bodyguard, having insisted on assuming those duties back from the PSD mare as soon as possible.

Once our contingent arrived, a series of greetings and salutes were exchanged. “‘Tis good to see you, Captain. We were out of contact and weren’t sure Canterlot was aware of our situation. ‘Twould seem the General had not passed along our messages as he had promised,’’ Sergeant Major Rolling Thunder all but growled.

“Apparently not,” Captain Shady confirmed grimly. “We had no word at all. We were sent in blind to Cloudsdale’s suspected position to look for you, with orders to locate and then escort you out to a position near Windy City.”

“Windy City?” Rolling Thunder blinked as he exchanged a glance with what appeared to be a wingblade-armed civilian pegasus stallion with a grey coat and gold mane standing to his left. “Why?”

“I know not. But such are my orders, direct from the Princess herself. So the city must prepare to depart.”

“I see…” The Cloudsdale Governor, a older mare named High Pressure stated. “We will obey, but we cannot do so right away. ‘Twill take us eight hours to make ready and a full week to make that journey at our best speed.”

“You cannot leave immediately?” the Captain asked in concern.

“Not if we wish the city to maintain its mass,” the Governor replied. “Perchance you are unaware, Captain, but moving Cloudsdale or even changing its speed or direction is not a simple task. Methinks we had to sacrifice some of its outlying surface just to escape the gryphons and make it to the bat-pony lands.”

“And even within them, 'tis certain we are still vulnerable,” a male voice I assumed belonged to the unknown stallion replied. “The weather factory was destroyed and we lost most of our militia, as well as all the existing Corps contingent. We have but a few hundred trained defenders now supplemented by several thousand hastily organized but ill-trained civilians. They fought well against the gryphons. Very well. But they also suffered very heavily.” I heard a solemn note in his voice. “And far too many weather factory workers were slain.”

“I see…” the Captain’s voice turned solemn as well. “We can mourn your losses later, and I know my crew is anxious to see if their families are safe. But for now, we need to get the city itself to safety. I know not what the Princess has planned, but I was told she had some role in mind for Cloudsdale’s pegasi. So let us thank our hosts for their hospitality, and see to leaving under the cover of morning mists before a gryphon spy finds us.”

“Yes, methinks ‘twould be for the best,” the civilian stallion replied. “For given their Office of Owls, you never know when one might be—” he trailed off as he looked up towards the ship; ‘twas hard to tell but I thought he was looking directly at me.

‘Twas then Swift Strike swore violently and went for the blades on his weapons belt as the stallion launched himself right at Gavian, charging him without warning with pure murder in his eyes.

Thank you for relating your side of this tale up to this point, grandsire, and letting me save my own emotional energy for the critical scene.

‘Tis Gavian speaking again, writing this from my Headmaster’s office at the Celestial Art Academy. I chose this location for its privacy, and because I couldn’t be certain I wouldn’t break down completely in the presence of others for relating what was to come. What followed ‘twas a time of sheer terror for me, an attack with lethal intent that still gives me nightmares to this day.

I had been in battle twice already. I had fought and defeated Fortis Knights. And yet, they were nothing compared to the threat I now faced, belonging to a stallion I had only seen once before.

Some things haunt you forever. Some events you never shake. ‘Tis certain this is one of mine.

—Gavian Ravenoff
Headmaster
Celestial Art Academy
Canterlot

Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0055 hours

Irresistible Force

As the stallion named Thunderbolt charged me through the air—I recognized him from my previous visit to Cloudsdale a month earlier; he had been friendly enough and even spoken to me in Aeric briefly—methinks I did not immediately recognize the danger.

Swift Strike did, though. Methinks I had never heard him raise his voice let alone speak such a severe oath, but he immediately went for his weapons and darted out in front of me. “Gavian! Get below!” he shouted at me as both me and my grandsire looked on in bewilderment whilst he met the stallion head on and began exchanging a series of rapid-fire blows with him.

I had never known anypony who could match my mentor in terms of pure speed, but this stallion could and did, as Swift Strike lasted but six seconds against him before he was knocked aside hard into the hull of the ship. He hit with a sharp crack! and then slid down, landing limply on the cloud, his lost blades falling right through the cloud surface beside him.

Finally understanding my peril, I tried to obey my mentor’s orders as my grandsire interposed himself as a shield, saying something I couldn’t hear. I had nearly made it to the hatch before the wind suddenly came up and a horrific suction grabbed hold of me, dragging me back and then flinging me hard into the air within a miniature twister. I lost my bearings and by the time I had regained them, I found myself plummeting.

I was only just able to arrest my flight before another rush of wind slammed me into the cloud surface and held me there as I heard an animal growl behind me, shortly followed by mother’s voice.

“Stop this, Lieutenant! He is not a threat to you or anypony else!” she shouted as she planted herself in front of me with wingblades bared.

But Thunderbolt did not stop his advance, landing on the cloud before me with his own blades deployed. “He is a gryphon! And he… must… die!” he announced as he somehow gathered up a massive charge of electricity from inside himself, causing an intense crackling around him not unlike the airship’s dirigible defenses. I’d barely had time to register what he was doing and feel the static charge building in the air—I knew that pegasi could launch lightning bolts from clouds, but not from their hooves!—before a jagged bolt of pure death was fired at me at a speed far too fast for me to dodge.

Caught off-guard as I was, ‘twas certain I would have been slain right then and there had it not been for Mother. “NO!” she shouted in alarm as she interposed herself and then accomplished what she never had to that point by deflecting the massively powerful bolt, saving me from certain death. But even then, there was only so much she could take at once as the effort staggered her, and Thunderbolt’s follow-up strike floored her, sending her into a nearby cloud bank with residual sparks arcing over her.

“Mother!” I called to her as I drew my sword and reared up to stand over her, for the first time feeling a moment of very severe fear as I realized not just Thunderbolt’s intent, but his horrific level of power.

“Gavian… don’t! He won’t kill us but he’ll kill you! Fly! Get away!” a coughing Swift Strike called to me, just managing to pull one of his throwing blades and launch it at Thunderbolt, who simply intercepted it in midair and then threw it right back at him; it hit his head hilt-first and knocked him cold, causing him to slump to the cloudtop.

“Yes, by all means run, little gryphon,” Thunderbolt said in Aeric, his voice ice cold as he approached me with a lowered head. “Run like the coward and spy you are. Or stand and fight. Either way, ‘tis certain you won’t last, but methinks at least you can die with some shred of your worthless honor intact. Not that I care.” A crackling electrical current ran over his body as though to punctuate his words.

The implication that I had no honor or was otherwise too craven to fight finally steeled my spine. “I am no spy! And I am no coward!” I told him in Equish and brandished my blade, taking the fight to him directly, engaging a wingblade-armed opponent in mortal combat for only the second time in my life.

But to my horror, ‘twas all for naught. For despite all my acquired speed and skill, and for the Knights I’d already slain, he dodged me easily once, twice, and then with my third swing, he intercepted it with a wingblade and disarmed me of my Raven scimitar in an instant. His parry knocked it out of my grasp into the air, following it up with a slash that would have taken off my forearm had it connected, except—

“Enough!” Fell Flight intervened next, rushing out of the bridge and then diving off the observation deck, tackling him from behind. She grappled with him, trying to pin him with her weight and wings long enough to get him into a blood choke, using her own wind and flight magic to restrain his. “Get a hold of yourself, sir! He fought for us! I’m telling you, he’s our friend, not a foe! Now for me and for Blindside, please let him go!”

“No!”Thunderbolt shouted as he simply charged himself with enough electricity to send her reeling, then threw her off with ease before stunning her with a minor bolt. “You don’t know what you’re saying or what we’ve been through, Master Sergeant! But when you do, you’ll both thank me for this!” he promised in renewed fury, turning his murderous gaze back upon me. I flared my wings for flight, but he simply flapped his wings to call up another gale that prevented me from taking off, pinning me in place as he approached me, his teeth and wingblades bared.

“So you fought for us, did you, my little chickenhawk? I know not what you were playing at, but I suppose you earn some honor for it. So be it! Then I’ll spare you the pain of my blades and slay you with a bolt instead!” He stopped his advance thirty feet from me and began to charge up a fresh lightning bolt; static crackling around his hoof.

Now trapped and staring my end in the face, I began to shake. For he had amply demonstrated there was nothing I nor anypony else could do against him, and there was nowhere I could flee. Cornered and disarmed, all my acquired combat abilities counted for nothing in that moment.

‘Twas certain I was as good as slain. I closed my eyes and cowered like I was the helpless and hungry cub I’d been but a year earlier before this demon of death in pony form, expecting him to strike me down and praying ‘twould be quick. And as I heard a static charge build again towards a bolt I knew ‘twas meant for me, I did not expect to survive the next few seconds.

Immovable Object

But before his killing blow could be launched, there was an even more powerful hurricane blast of wind, this time striking from the side. ‘Twas so violent and unexpected it bowled a surprised Thunderbolt over despite his own innate control of the air, causing him to lose control in turn of the lightning bolt he’d been about to strike me down with.

Then the wind caught me as well, and I had to squeeze my eyes tightly shut again against the monstrous gale, my talons and hind claws digging into the cloud surface to not be swept away.

To my renewed horror, I felt them slipping for a moment, threatening to toss me into the air again before the tempest relented, and when my vision cleared, I saw a new figure in front of me. ‘Twas a tall and well-toned sea-green pegasus stallion with a cloud white military-cut mane, and an enormously powerful one to judge by not just his size but by the very gale he commanded; one that even kept Thunderbolt at bay.

Though bearing wingblades—which he had sheathed—he was clad not in armor but in what I recognized as a maroon Royal Guard day uniform, bearing a formal command sash and two prominent silver bars on both sides of his collar that I could just see as he was standing obliquely before me. He gave me a glance and nod that showed off his lurid series of facial scars—a product of being slashed by Harpy claws, I’d been told once before—before turning to face the felled Thunderbolt fully, giving me a perfect view of the large hurricane cutie mark on his flank.

I had only seen him once before, during a surprise visit he had paid to Epsilon over the summer but a month earlier. But ‘twas certain his appearance there had left quite the impression on me, as it had on all present, and thus I recognized him instantly.

“Captain Typhoon!”I called out in shock and desperate hope to the Captain of the Royal Guard. I recalled then he was not just a commander but a mighty warrior in his own right; a pony who had bested Mother with shocking ease the one time they had sparred, turning the air itself against her and even creating a cloud out of the thin desert air he was able to launch a lightning bolt from. But could even he stand against this monstrously powerful and murderous pegasus stallion, who had effortlessly felled both my mentor and my mother?

“Stay down, lad,” he called back without turning to me, watching as Thunderbolt began to pick himself up. “And keep behind me. On my honor as an officer and warrior, I swear before the Sun of Celestia that he will not harm you.”

Such was my second experience with Thunderbolt, and ‘tis one I still have nightmares over to this day, for how close to death I came at his hooves. ‘Twas a very hard thing for me to accept, coming so soon after my successful fights with Knights and Ravens, only to find that there was still somepony so far above me in terms of combat ability that I may as well have been a helpless cub again.

As I finish this entry, I find myself feeling unsettled, chills still coursing through me and my crest feathers standing on end, remembering both my fear and the one who made me feel that way. And yet, I do not hate him for what he nearly did. For methinks he was right about one thing—neither Fell Flight nor I had nary any idea what he had been through, or what it had done to him.

Nary any idea of what all Cloudsdale had been through, or what it had collectively done to them all.

—Gavian Ravenoff

I admit, my artist friend, that your latest entry is troubling to me.

‘Twould be a lie to say that I did not have to deal with my own nigh-invincible and nearly uncontrollable killing machine on our own side, as well you know. And yet, to read this now, Thunderbolt strikes me in some ways as the more dangerous of the two, even at this early stage of the war. For in his mind, he was not slaying for sport but serving his side by killing an enemy of Equestria, which Gavian was for simply being a gryphon in his eyes. And the eyes of far too many others, but Thunderbolt alone could act on it and go right through all his protectors to do so.

I cannot even begin to imagine the fear and terror you and your mother must have felt to see him coming; to know there was nothing you could do to stop him as neither he nor her future Bolt Knight comrades, who even then were more than a match for most of our forces, fell one by one before him.

But fate—and mayhap the foresight of Celestia herself—saved you this day. Thunderbolt bears the honor of being one of a very few to both survive engagement with me and even wound me, and in time, I would be proven correct when I initially noted he could become a rallying point and an important symbol of Equestrian resistance.

And yet, for all that, I now know the Prelate was correct to decline my offer to go after him. For I might have slain him, but ‘tis unlikely at best either I or the Raven team I was embedded with would have escaped afterwards, given thestral senses and unfamiliar weapons.

And ‘tis certain that would have had far-reaching consequences to both sides neither could have then foreseen.

—Layan Kaval
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot

Difficult Dilemmas

Eagle Aerie Imperial Supply Base
Outside Cirrus Cassida
September 4th, 1139 AC
0057 hours

Methinks sleep was in short supply for both sides as the Prelate and I stayed up long into the night at his old office at Eagle Aerie, which we chose as the most centrally located point to coordinate the renewed offensive whilst his mobile headquarters was being reestablished following the Gamma raid. We did so along with the rest of his aides and the Primarch, reviewing battle reports and disseminating orders for the day to come.

‘Twas odd, but in many ways, the lead up to the fourth day of war was even more frantic than the first. For the latter, we had pre-made contingency plans to operate from; our commanders were simply breaking the seal on secret orders when an action code was sent along with the magical key to unlock them. But this time, with our initial invasion plans shattered by the early war and events having already outrun our existing contingencies, we were having to improvise a new strategy on the fly.

Said strategy had already been shared with Sub-Consul Romelus, who had reported her new Grand Legion would be ready to launch its offensive at dawn as scheduled, but issuing orders in support of her effort as well as to our forces in the center and south required a great deal of careful coordination and planning.

In the end, the Prelate kept it as simple as possible by forming three grand legions with our available forces, naming them according to the winds themselves: Grand Legion Boreas in the north, Grand Legion Ortus in the center, and Grand Legion Auster in the south, each mustering at least five legions and commanded by a sub-Consul with an allotment of Knights attached. The latter we were having to mete out somewhat sparingly given our losses on the first day, with the lion’s share going to sub-Consul Romelus’ main effort in the north.

“For now, the center is but a sideshow whilst the south is to encircle—but not invade—the thestral lands,” the Prelate outlined to his aides as I hurriedly took notes to disseminate his general orders to senior staff. “The key to our effort is in the north. If sub-Consul Romelus can seize the Shetlandian isthmus quickly, then the ponies will have no choice but to abandon their forward defenses and retreat west of the Lunar Sea whilst the pressure on Thestralslovakia grows stronger.

“Surrounded on three sides, we can then conduct both diplomacy and warfare with the bat-ponies from a position of strength,” the Prelate mused mostly to himself. “If, that is, our overtures to their two factions do not bear fruit first. What is the status of our efforts there, sub-Praeter Janus?”

“The Nightborne have rebuffed our initial offer of alliance,” the hooded head of the Office of Owls operations on the Equestrian continent answered, passing several scrolls he had reserved for just that moment, “but our one internal agent on their Lunar Council reports they intend to remain neutral in the conflict despite their treaty with Celestia, as long as we respect their borders. As for the Highborne… our agent signaled that he had arrived and delivered our offer.”

The Prelate accepted the reports with some annoyance at having not received them earlier. Neither I nor Salvio Gaius particularly liked Janus, finding him too secretive and willing to hide failure—a fault that was shared by the entire Owl network, in our experience. But ‘twas certain he was good at his job, and he’d been retained in his post following the Changeling debacle by virtue of the fact he’d been acting on the orders of his superiors in Mosclaw when he did not inform us of the shapeshifting spy’s flight.

“And their response…?” the Prelate prompted, tapping his talons on the stone desk.

“Our agent said that a formal reply was being drawn up by their leader. ‘Twill likely take some days to receive it. He did indicate via secure scrying that she reacted positively to our offer, but she wishes to attach some conditions to her aid.”

“Some conditions? We are already offering those greedy Highborne rule of all Thestralslovakia!” the Primarch pointed out. “Which in my view, is far too great a price to pay! Instead of this idiotic northern advance, you should have ordered an immediate invasion of their lands as the former Legate suggested!”

The quill the Prelate was writing with snapped in his grasp. “If you have nothing to offer of any intelligence or consequence, Primarch, you are more than welcome to retire for the night,” Gaius told her without looking at her, pouring himself more tea to soothe his growing anger.

“I am going nowhere, Prelate. And on behalf of the Empress, I demand an explanation as to why we are not going right through the bat-ponies when we have a perfect opportunity to do so!”

“Very well,” the Prelate grated out through a clenched beak. “The short answer is that Equestria is vast and we have not sufficient troops right now to both subdue the thestrals by force and continue the advance on other fronts towards Canterlot. To do so would be to risk our timetable and the overall success of the campaign!”

“Crows take your timetable, Prelate! Deadlines do not matter, only victory does! And methinks by pursuing this northern diversion, you are wasting time! You are squandering a golden opportunity to push right towards Canterlot and in the process knock the bat-ponies out of the conflict quickly!” she challenged him.

With very great deliberateness, the Prelate laid his scroll down and stood, turning to face her. “Deadlines matter if missing them means we risk our dragon allies abandoning us and setting Celestia loose. They matter if what you suggest would bog us down in an avoidable and potentially bloody sideshow that would hardly be quick!”

“And so now you lose your nerve? The sub-Consul herself said they had no heavy weapons or daytime fighting ability! And as such, their conquest should be easy!”

“And recklessly attacking an unnecessary enemy of unknown numbers or abilities could cost us the war!” he promptly retaliated, and I held my breath, waiting for a challenge to be issued.

But to my mild surprise, and perchance hers as well, he did not offer one. “You say that the Owls suggest an easy victory, Primarch, which is false on its face given our limited intelligence on the bat-ponies!

“For even if the Owl estimates of their overall strength are correct—an assumption which is highly dubious at best—we know not their tactics or weapons, and thus could be badly bloodied by them! Even ignoring that, as things stand ‘twould take at least an entire Grand Legion and a month or more to do the work!

“But if the Owls are in fact underestimating thestral strength by even a third, we would have to double our invasion numbers to subdue them—numbers which would take at least a month more to muster!

“These are troops and time we do not have to spare if we are to reach Canterlot and relieve our dragon allies by winter as we promised!” he reminded her, and ‘tis worth noting ‘twas to our very great relief that the Owls intercepted panicked messages from Canterlot on the first day of war saying Kalator’s dragon clan, whose aid we had paid so painfully for, had besieged the city and caged Celestia as they had promised.

For ‘tis certain our greatest fear had been that he would renege on his deal and let the Princess destroy us so they could plunder our wealth from the Empire’s ruins, and ‘tis also certain we had a lingering worry that they would yet do so if we did not keep our side of the bargain swiftly.

“So we will bypass and surround them for now whilst attempting to secure the aid of their lesser faction. If successful, we consume them from within and a gaping hole is punched in Equestria’s defenses, enabling us to open a second front towards Canterlot right through the middle of their nation. If successful, this will realize our goals at far less cost than an immediate invasion whose outcomes would be far from certain. Are you satisfied, Primarch?”

“Not at all. Too clever and complicated by half, as always,” an unimpressed Livia sneered. “Instead of launching a lightning offensive against them, you scurry and nibble around the edges of their nation like a frightened rat. And be assured, the Empress will hear of this!”

“Too clever and complicated as opposed to what? Grinding our way through their nation’s unknown defenses and unfavorable terrain league by bloody league? Holding up our advance for precious weeks and bleeding our frontline legions dry for lack of intelligence on their numbers or tactics whilst the Equestrians solidify their front and train more troops?” He brought his fist down hard before catching himself. “Enough. Begone from my presence, Primarch! I have work to do, and you are not helping me.”

“Pathetic,” she pronounced, grinning with the knowledge that she’d gotten under his wings. “Perchance you are too tired to remember, but as the Eyes and Ears of the Empress, I am allowed to stay in your presence at all times!”

“Unless I have orders for you, which I do,” he replied acidly. “Whilst waiting for more Fortis Knight support, we need additional heavy infantry, and your Paladins can serve in that capacity. Draw up orders to summon two millennia of your warriors from Mosclaw and dispatch them from the communications office. Do not return until you have gotten an acknowledgement back and arranged for their rapid transit. They may displace Talons, but not Knights, from their transports. And they are to begin arriving within two weeks.”

She puffed up her chest in pride. “So finally you order something useful! As you command, Prelate. And be assured, you will find my forces fully up to the test!” She saluted and departed, at which point the Prelate ordered his other aides except me to leave as well.

After the doors had closed behind them, he slumped slightly and rubbed his temples, replacing his tea with a bottle of rum he pulled out from under the desk.

A Commander’s Burden

“Of all the campaigns I have ever been in, none have been so trying as simply having her around at all times,” he told me in confidence, and ‘twas a sign of his trust in me that he showed even the slightest weakness or weariness.

“In truth, my lord, I am impressed you have lasted this long without challenging her to a duel,” I replied as I poured it for him and then myself; the fact that he had brought out two drinking bowls meant he was offering it to me as well.

“In truth, so am I,” he granted, rubbing his eyes again, waiting until both bowls were full before taking his. “If she gave me a valid excuse, I happily would, but I must give her this much—she has not overstepped enough in the eyes of the Empress to grant me one. So for now, we must tolerate her presence,” he growled as he picked up his bowl. “To victory, and to finally being rid of her.”

“As you say,” I agreed, gently clicking the edge of my bowl to his before we both took a long draw—I would normally not indulge, but in truth, I, too, was fatigued and intended to retire before too long. I was not worried about being slain in my sleep; long experience had taught me to awake and attack on a moment’s notice should an assassin threaten. “Then your asking her to summon Paladins to the field ‘twas merely a ruse?”

He chuckled tiredly. “Not hardly. I share your disdain for them and do not expect them to perform well, but ‘tis certain we can use them, and use them up whilst we mass more Fortis Knights for eventual breakthrough operations. If we discredit them with their own poor performances, we discredit her as their leader, and I plan to grant her the opportunity to lead them into battle.

“‘Tis no doubt she will jump at the chance, and when she is slain leading them, she will be out of our headfeathers once and for all,” he promised. “Even if the Empress assigns another guardian, ‘tis certain they will be less abrasive and distracting than she.”

“‘Twould seem you are a step ahead, as always, My Lord,” I said in approval. “I envy your ability to juggle both military and political concerns.”

“Thank you, my friend. But methinks the latter are as tiring as the former are invigorating. And unfortunately, we face both with the thestrals,” he noted again. “I also wanted her gone to discuss them more openly with you. There are several lingering questions in my mind regarding the bat-ponies, and your counsel would be appreciated in answering them.”

“My counsel is yours as always, my Lord,” I bared my throat to him in respect as I would few beings. “What troubles you?”

He considered his words carefully before speaking. “I have lingering doubts whether the course we have chosen is the correct one. Part of me worries that by leaving them for later, we are indeed making a grave mistake,” he admitted to me.

“As much as it pains me to say, the Primarch may actually be correct that ‘twould be better to deal with them now. And if we had our entire invasion army available, I would not hesitate to do so. But with limited forces, we cannot as yet negotiate with them from a position of strength. Mayhap they are already aware of this, as we offered them everything they have always wanted, but still they demand more.”

“Perchance they are not certain we are trustworthy. Or mayhap they wait to see how well our efforts fare before throwing their support to our side. Both would be understandable,” I pointed out. “And as for not invading them immediately, your reasons struck me as sound.

“We do not have sufficient forces right now to attack them whilst continuing towards Canterlot, and should we strike them prematurely, the Owls estimate we bring at least four legions worth of thestral forces into the fight, positioned squarely on our flank. ‘Tis perfectly logical and understandable to avoid them if we wish to keep our timetable intact,” I told him in perfect honesty as he listened tiredly but attentively, his eyes on his rum bowl but nodding occasionally as I spoke.

“I am not the strategist you are, but I can certainly count strength—were we to do as the Primarch demanded, we stall the south and center for having to commit at least half our available sixteen legions against them. And whilst we are occupied with them, Equestrian forces can use that time to rally and recover, leaving us with a far more difficult fight even after the bat-ponies are beaten.

“Therefore, in my view, your idea to avoid conflict and co-opt at least one of the two thestral factions is the correct one. If successful—and whatever demands the Highborne may make, they are at least open to our overtures, unlike the Nightborne—then as you say, we consume them from within and punch open a gaping hole in the Equestrian defenses at little cost to us.”

“And if they do not accede?” The Prelate wondered aloud.

“Then they stay neutral whilst we continue our advance and slowly surround them, bringing in more legions to use against them for when we finally do strike. Understand, My Lord, that though I am a warrior and wish for battle above all, I agree this is one occasion where patience is called for. For an immediate attack would tie up too many of our available legions at a time when speed of advance is crucial. So taking on Thestralslovakia is simply not advantageous to our overall objectives right now.”

Gaius smiled, then took a long draw of his drink, instantly relaxing for its alcoholic effects. “Your counsel is correct and well-thought as always, Tribune. And methinks all your points were ones I had already considered and apparently forgotten.” He chuckled softly to himself, rubbing his eyes again. “Perchance I am more tired than I realized. ‘Tis certain I have had precious little rest since we started this invasion, particularly last night.” The ghost of a smile touched his face. “You wouldst forgive me my momentary doubts.”

“‘Twould worry me more if you did not have them,” I told him as I topped off his drink. “I remind you that a commander that never worries never wins—advice you yourself once shared with me. In any event, as most of our work is now done, I respectfully request you leave the remaining reports to me and retire. For even the mightiest of warriors—and the best of commanders—require sleep, My Lord.”

“As you say,” he nodded his head in acknowledgement, then downed the rest of the rum. “I trust you to wake me if I am needed. But be sure and rest yourself. One way or another, ‘tis certain your counsel and combat abilities will be needed again in the days and weeks ahead, my friend.”

“As the Prelate commands,” I bared my throat and saluted him, taking station outside his sleeping quarters as he entered them.

‘Twas another two hours before I finally finished and slept, laying out in a corner where I could see the room and respond instantly to any intrusion.

Thank you for another interesting entry, Ambassador, and your insights into the mind of Prelate Salvio Gaius, the gryphon we loved to hate. And now, conversely, the gryphon we hate to love as we come to understand and appreciate the various pressures he was under and how well—at least at first—he held up under them, even in the face of the Primarch’s provocations.

Though perchance even he would have been given pause at the situation I was presented with in Cloudsdale as I lay stunned on the ground, unable to stop Thunderbolt from continuing his advance on Gavian; the former Second Lieutenant having already cut a swath through all of us to reach him:

How do you stop the unstoppable force? At that moment, lying paralyzed again with my son’s life in mortal danger, I had no answer. But fortunately, another pony did.

—Firefly

Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0059 hours

Typhoon Warning

“Stay down, lad.” Methinks I had been no less shocked by Typhoon’s unexpected appearance than Gavian, thanking the sun and Celestia herself for the reprieve, even though I knew not how he could fulfil his oath to follow—if neither me, Swift Strike, Fell Flight or Gavian could stop Thunderbolt, what chance did even the Captain of the Guard have? “And stay behind me. On my honor as an officer and warrior, I swear before the Sun of Celestia that he will not harm you.”

“Captain Typhoon,” Thunderbolt acknowledged with a half-meant salute as he pulled himself up and anchored himself in place with his wings against the slowing gale. “Your reputation and the stories of your command of the wind precede you. But they are not needed here. I am not your enemy.”

“And neither is he,” Typhoon answered in his characteristically deep voice, his turquoise eyes locked with Thunderbolt’s blue ones as he motioned back towards Gavian, who was still gaping up at his unlikely savior. “Stand down, Lieutenant. That is an order.”

“The hay I will!” Thunderbolt sneered. “Even if I was still in the service, the Corps does not fall under the Royal Guard’s chain of command!”

“At the moment, I am the acting Corps Commander, by direction of Our Princess herself. I will be happy to show you the Celestial Seal on my appointment orders if you wish. So once again, I order you to step away!”

“Congratulations on your appointment. But I am a civilian, not one of your Royal Guard toadies! I have not survived battle with a thousand gryphons to be ordered about by a single stallion who knows not the ordeal we suffered… sir!”

“And I have not come through fire and fog or had to slay two of my own aides to bandy insults or exchange war stories with you,” Typhoon replied through narrowed eyes. “I have not slept whilst searching for the city, and I am in no mood for this. So stand down before I put you down, Lieutenant. This gryphon is not our enemy,” the Captain stated authoritatively in a deep voice that was somehow completely commanding whilst remaining eerily calm.

“Not our enemy?” Thunderbolt echoed mockingly, his sneer deepening. “After slaughtering my friends and after what they have done here? All gryphons are our enemy! And all gryphons must die!” Thunderbolt proclaimed, and I cringed to hear sounds of agreement from the six or so Cloudsdale civilians present.

“So you wouldst become not a soldier, but a slayer of the innocent?” Typhoon asked in disgust. “Are you truly that far gone, Lieutenant?”

“Innocent?” Thunderbolt spat out to full-throated shouts of outrage from the civilian pegasi watching from a distance, his eyes blazing; Rolling Thunder likewise watched unhappily but did not intervene. “That gryphon came to Cloudsdale before, most likely as a spy! ‘Tis certain from his earlier visit that he is how they knew the city layout and where to target their attacks!” he said to more calls for Gavian’s blood.

“He, or a simple tourist map of the city and weather factory the Owls stole,” Typhoon replied easily, making sure all heard him. “Tell me, Second Lieutenant: do you really think it likely a sixteen-year old gryphon cub—a cub the Empire tried twice to kill—passed them such easily obtainable intelligence?” He raised his voice for all to hear. “Even a moment’s thought should tell you he had nothing to do with this.”

“Even if true, it matters not! He belongs to a murderous race whose ways are an affront to Equestria itself! A race whose very existence must be expunged if we are to survive! Now stand aside!” he ordered anew, an electrical charge building up around him once more. His actions caused the hairs of my short-cut mane to stand on end as I realized I dare not try to block one of his bolts again, for deflecting his first had taken everything I had and left me with little strength after.

“Sir…” I coughed out the words, my lungs and voice only barely beginning to work again as my muscles struggled to shake off the electrical blow whilst further off to the sides, Swift Strike lay unconscious whilst Fell Flight was only just starting to twitch. I believe ‘twas only then I truly understood the difference between a simple lightning affinity and full blown mastery, and realized how far I had yet to go.

“Save my son… stop him…” I begged even as ‘twas certain to me that he couldn’t—that Gavian was going to die right here in front of me, and worse, he would be slain by one of our own.

“Don’t worry, Master Sergeant. Your son is safe,” he promised, tilting his head slightly towards me whilst keeping his gaze fixed on Thunderbolt.

“Her son?” Thunderbolt repeated in disbelief. “Spare me such sentimental rubbish! By his very race, he’s an enemy of Equestria! His presence alone is a blight on our city and an insult to all who perished! So stand aside, Captain! For the cause of vengeance and justice done, I’m going to kill him!”

“No. You will not.” The Captain replied in an air that said he was not boasting but simply stating a fact. “There is no justice in your actions, Lieutenant. He is not an enemy. What you propose is nothing more than murder, and I will not let you touch him.”

“Oh, really?” Thunderbolt smirked. “You and what army, sir? An entire cohort of gryphons couldn’t stand against me! I slew several centuries of Knights and Ravens with ease! I just took out your best Guardspony as well as a Black Lance without effort! They couldn’t stop me, so what makes you think that you can... Captain?” he offered the honorific in mocking tones.

Typhoon’s sole reply was a sly grin that only infuriated Thunderbolt further, if the increased static crackle around him was any indication.

“No...” I struggled desperately to climb back to my hooves, only to find them still too weak and numb to support me. “Have to… stop him…”

“Stay where you are, Master Sergeant,” Typhoon called out. “You saved your son once already. Now allow me to do so.”

“But—”

“It’s all right, Commander,” a just-arrived Still Way told me, using his weakened magic to help me to my hooves. I don’t know how he got there except he must have run down the gangplank, and I could just see that armed Epsilon and Loyalty pegasi were now pouring off the airship, moving to surround the scene.

“He isn’t just blowing air. I promise that Gavian is safe. The Captain of the Guard has his post for a reason. Don’t interfere. Just watch,” the Celestial Guardspony spoke quickly but quietly. ‘Tis certain that had anypony but him made that promise to me, I would not have believed it. But the First Sergeant didn’t lie, ever.

‘Twas then he raised his voice, using his magic to boost his volume further. “To all ponies watching—whatever happens, do not intervene! The Captain can deal with him.”

“Deal with me? Such amazing arrogance,” Thunderbolt shook his head, the murderous gleam in his eyes growing. “But so be it. It makes my task all the easier!”

“If you say so,” was all Typhoon would state in response, his disgust deepening. “Your task is impossible, Lieutenant. For it requires you to go through me.”

“I’ll take my chances! Final warning: stand aside!” he ordered the Captain with a stomp of his hoof as fresh electricity crackledaround him, lowering his head in a predatory manner again.

“Final warning: stand down!” A fierce gale came up around the Captain even without him using his wings, which remained flared like a shield in front of a cowering Gavian. And yet, for all that, his stance was completely relaxed. He had not a hint of tension in his muscles, leaving me—and in hindsight, Thunderbolt himself—unable to read how he would react to an attack.

“Then on your head be it!” Thunderbolt shouted as he charged the Captain right through the hurricane blast that greeted him, gathering his electrical power to deliver a massive bolt.

But before he could launch it, the Captain’s image seemed to blur and when it resolved again, the tip of his hoof had made contact with Thunderbolt’s chin. Though ‘twasn’t a hard strike, it instantly dispersed his opponent’s aborning lightning bolt and caused his muscles to seize.

I barely had time to register that before a series of rapid-fire hoofstrikes to Thunderbolt’s torso followed; ones so fast I could barely see or count them. Individually, none of the blows seemed that powerful, but there was a visible circular ripple beneath Thunderbolt’s fur from each hit like from a stone dropped into a pond.

I don’t know how many such strikes were launched in that small space of time—methinks at least a dozen in that first half-second—but just as quickly as they began, they ceased as Typhoon stepped back and turned away, completely unconcerned even though he was exposing himself to Thunderbolt’s attack, perchance fatally.

But Thunderbolt did not move, his hoof still extended to deliver his failed strike and jaw locked open in an expression of total shock and disbelief. As he did not so much as twitch, it dawned on me that he was completely paralyzed to the point not even his eyes could move!

Oblivious to his opponent’s state and to the impossibility of his feat, Typhoon walked up to Gavian and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, lad. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you now,” the Captain promised gently, holding out a hoof to him and helping him up. He shielded Gavian protectively with a wing as he guided his shaking form towards me. “You are under my protection, as by direction of Our Princess, I am taking command of this entire city!” He raised his voice for all to hear, and none stepped or flew forward to dispute his claim.

“Th-thank you…” Gavian sniffled, hiding his face in shame from me. “Thank you.” After he said it a second time, he broke down completely, sobbing into his wing.

“You are welcome, young gryphon. And know that none shall harm you. Not even him.” As he spoke, he contemptuously struck Thunderbolt on the side with but the tip of his wing as he passed. Even the minor hit caused an unmoving and unbalanced Thunderbolt to topple stiffly on his side, unable to extend a limb or even so much as a single pinion to arrest his fall.

“The Polaris Pressure Points Technique,” Still Way said, saluting his Captain with great satisfaction as Gavian all but leapt into my arms. “An amazing art, enabling its practitioner to paralyze or even slay with but a single touch. An art so potent yet difficult to learn that not even I could counter or master it…”

“Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment.” ―Mario Puzo, The Godfather

Author's Note

And there you have it. Captain Typhoon is officially the biggest badass of the Equestrian military. :rainbowdetermined2:

At this point in Equestrian history, it stands to reason that you don’t ascend to Captain of the Guard unless you’re the best of the best, and he is. He doesn’t flaunt it, but he will use it when he needs to. And I figured having him basically one-shot Thunderbolt after he’d just taken out four of the best fighters we know without breaking a sweat was the perfect way to show how good he really was. Needless to say, he will be a significant figure in this story going forward, and you’ll learn more about him in the coming chapters.

Thanks as always go to AJ_Aficionado, who was in rare form in the google doc comments, and Silentwoodfire for promptly prereading this. Regards and best get-well-soon wishes go to Denim_Blue, who continues to fight off an ailment (no, not Coronavirus!)

The parting thought I will leave you with on this chapter is that there are in fact two ways to defeat Thunderbolt in single combat—assuming, that is, you have sufficient speed and skill to begin with (and very few do). His lethality comes from the simple fact he can read his opponents instinctively and see what they’re going to do even before they know, and thus he knows even before the first strike exactly how to counter and kill them. So in order to beat him, you have to defeat his uncanny ability to predict movement in one of two ways:

You’re completely relaxed and serene so he can’t read you.

You’re batshit crazy and thus completely unpredictable.

Captain Typhoon is an example of the former. But for the latter... stay tuned. :unsuresweetie:

Rally and Recover: 9 - Captain's Call

Greetings to all readers.

Before we begin this latest entry, Fell Flight wishes me to pass along an update on the deliberations of the Society of Outpost Omega Survivors, with regard to the gryphon-delivered news of Omega’s last stand.

Rather than simply build yet another battle monument, ‘tis been decided to request from Corps Command the temporary reactivation of Omega as an active base, with Fell Flight rejoining the service long enough to take command of it, as ‘twas intended she would so many years ago. A weeklong series of commemorative events that she will preside over will follow, culminating in a massive farewell-to-arms festival that Omega never had. ‘Twill be not a funeral service but a celebration of its deeds and defenders, with multiple honors being granted to it along with the supporting Equestrian Army bases, collectively known as Outpost Black.

There is also to be a new on-site museum containing the released Office of Owl archives regarding the battle, with both gryphon and pony reports posted with translations into Aeric and Equish. This is so that future generations on both sides may understand exactly what transpired there; what it meant and what it cost. Something similar will yet be done for the Equestrian dishonor against the gryphons, whose nature I am not yet able to divulge.

The centerpiece of the final festival will be a commemorative song by Silver Seax and his Swheatish brethren, who, after being contacted, have expressed both willingness and eagerness to offer up their rather unique musical talents to the occasion.

They do not oft give performances any longer given their familial obligations, but they can still be summoned for what they feel is the right cause and story. Such is the case with Outpost Omega.

But that lies in the future, and much planning remains to be done. For now, the retelling of the war continues without them, though ‘tis certain Silver Seax and his brothers will appear again in this story shortly. For the first demonstration of those talents was soon to come!

—Firefly

Indeed they were, Captain. Though methinks the thestrals were as much surprised by that first demonstration as the rest of us!

Fair skies and following winds again to all readers. ‘Tis Commodore Shady writing now, and for those who are interested, I did not participate in the battle to defend Gavian. ‘Twas simply never near me, and I did not seek to join it as I feared what deleterious effects my bad luck powers would have on anypony but myself. But I did hear Rolling Thunder make a coded emergency call into his crystal, which I assume was what actually summoned Captain Typhoon from the mountaintop where he’d been hiding.

Guided by the signal, he passed right through the thick cloud base of the city—something its enchantments should not even have allowed—and then burst out right beside us, spotting Thunderbolt just as he was about to slay our young gryphon friend. He then blasted him with a mighty wind that seemed to manifest from nowhere, generating his signature gale without so much as a wing flap.

The rest you already know, but ‘tis worth noting that Tailwind was the one who called out the air wing in hopes of containing Thunderbolt. ‘Tis to all our relief that the Captain of the Guard arrived and they were not forced to attempt it.

—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad

Conquering Hero

Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0102 hours

“The Polaris Pressure Points Technique,” Still Way said in great satisfaction and admiration as I trotted over following the apparent end of the duel. He saluted his Captain crisply as Gavian all but leapt into Firefly’s forelegs, crying like an endangered foal returned to his mother.

“An amazing art, enabling its practitioner to paralyze or even slay with but a single touch. An art so potent yet difficult to learn that not even I could counter or master it.” Methinks he seemed to be saying it as much to Typhoon as to me.

“Greetings, First Sergeant.” Captain Typhoon returned the salute with a wing instead of his hoof as he stepped back from Gavian and Firefly. “Your compliment means much, given the potency of your art. Perchance you wish to try its luck against mine again?” he asked with a sly grin as the Corps and Naval pegasi stared at him in awe. Methinks I was no different—I had no idea such an incredible and unlikely battle art existed!

“I might,” Still Way admitted with a wry grin of his own as the two then exchanged an affectionate hoofclasp followed by bumping their forearms to the other’s chest; I recall having the thought that ‘twas a greeting more suited for two old friends than a commander and underling. “Once I’ve regained my full power, that is. ’Tis just as well you arrived when you did, Captain. For I was not relishing the prospect of trying to restrain Thunderbolt with my magic in a weakened state.”

“Understandable. I look forward to hearing your report, once I am more settled and rested. But for now, I must take command of the city, as per Our Princess’s orders.” He looked to his left to see the civilians and Rolling Thunder approaching, on hoof instead of by air; the former looking almost afraid to come near him and letting the Sergeant Major take the lead.

To his credit, Rolling Thunder himself had no such qualms. “Sir!” He stood to attention and saluted hard along with his remaining militia Lieutenant, waiting until the honor was returned before lowering their hooves. “Welcome to Cloudsdale. ’Twould seem you received my message.”

“I did indeed,” Typhoon confirmed with a nod. “And fortunate it was. ‘Twould seem I got here in the proverbial nick of time.” He turned to look at Firefly and Gavian, who was still crying like a cub in her arms. “Though I believe the bat-ponies were less than pleased when I broke through their cordon and disobeyed orders to halt. They did not attempt to stop me, though.”

“Sir? Thank you!” Firefly spoke up in a trembling voice, tears in her eyes as she held her son tightly. “Thunderbolt was going to k-kill Gavian. And I couldn’t stop him!” she admitted to great apparent shame with a glance at the wreckage of her friends and comrades around us. Thanks to Tailwind, they were already being attended to by unicorn healers, who were levitating them onto the Loyalty deck for treatment; I made a mental note to check on them as soon as possible.

“’Tis no shame in that, Master Sergeant, as there are very few on either side who could. But ‘tis worth noting you have significantly improved your abilities since I last saw you,” he told her truthfully. “For ‘tis certain such a bolt as you batted aside would have overwhelmed you the last time we sparred. So make no mistake, Guardsmare—by doing so, you did save your son from his initial attack.

“And that is to say nothing of your defense and escape from Epsilon, which are already legendary… as is the Loyalty itself!” he concluded as I took that opportunity to step forward, and was surprised to receive a salute from him! “‘Tis an honor to meet you, Captain Shady. Your surprise strike and successful extraction of the Epsilon garrison was a huge boost to not just Naval morale, but the entire Equestrian military!”

I hardly felt deserving of such praise just then, but accepted his respect nonetheless. “On behalf of my crew, thank you for your kind words, Captain. I was told you were looking for Cloudsdale as well, but I had no idea that you had already found it, or I would have coordinated with you.”

“We found it but an hour ago, from the ground, as the thestral patrols were suddenly and unexpectedly recalled, allowing us to infiltrate their borders. Perchance ‘twas your secret crossing of the border that drew them away?” he mused, and as I thought about it, I realized ‘twas likely the case. “Once I got into range, I called on the Corps command crystal and the Sergeant Major answered. I would not have appeared this quickly but for his emergency request to restrain Thunderbolt.

“In any event, ‘twas to your great credit that you not only found and reached the city first, but did so bloodlessly. For only adding to your long list of accolades, methinks the Loyalty is well on its way to becoming the most famous ship in the fleet. I look forward to learning how, but before that, methinks there is a minor matter I must attend to first.”

His expression turned cold again as he marched over to where Thunderbolt lay.

Victor and Vanquished

Ten seconds later, Typhoon stood over the fallen Thunderbolt, staring down in contempt at his stiff form; his vanquished opponent did not move but his gray lips were starting to turn noticeably blue.

“Having trouble breathing, Lieutenant?” Typhoon asked unsympathetically. “Not surprising. I froze all your muscles short of your heart itself, including those that controlled your lungs. But make no mistake—I could have stopped your heart and slain you right then and there. So be assured that had you succeeded in killing Gavian or any of his protectors, we would not be having this conversation.”

He paused to let the words sink in. “But as I have already been told by Rolling Thunder of your deeds here, and given you showed at least some restraint by not using lethal force against those protectors, I will spare you—for now,” he added ominously before continuing.

“I know you can still hear me, so I will say this once, and one time only: if you wish to live and continue to fight in this war, you will control your bloodlust. You will accept that not every gryphon is a mortal enemy to be slain. And you will obey my orders without question or hesitation. Or as the Mare in the Moon is my witness, you will die at my hooves. Is that clear, Lieutenant?” he asked in an imperious tone.

To no surprise, there was no answer, so the Captain simply smirked and struck Thunderbolt once on the back of the neck with a wingtip. The action elicited a great gasp of air from the fallen stallion, followed by several more as his body began to tremble.

“Is that clear?” the Captain asked again, hissing out the words through bared teeth, his wind—which was far more powerful than anything the average pegasus could generate—coming up hard again, swirling around them both.

“Cl-clear…” Thunderbolt finally managed to say between breaths.

“Good.” Despite the acknowledgement, the Captain then grabbed his fellow stallion by his wingblade harness and flew up to the side of the Loyalty, slamming him hard against the hull and then holding him in place with but a single hoof against it.

“For the moment I decide that you are a greater threat to us than the gryphons is the moment of your death. Against them, you have no equal. But against me, you have no chance.” He then dropped Thunderbolt to the cloud surface below, and his body, though no longer rigid, fell limply into a bank, his limbs and wings still not working.

“Sir? What should we do with him? Confine him?” I asked.

“Leave him there,” Typhoon directed. “He’s still partially paralyzed. I’ll release him later, but for now, let his defeat sink in. He needs to know that I am in charge, and I will not brook his bloodlust or any acts of wanton murder!” His words were loud enough that 'twas clear he intended for not just Thunderbolt, but all onlookers, to hear them. He then turned his intimidating gaze on the civilian officials who had initially cheered the idea of Gavian’s death. All of them immediately looked away.

“Aye-aye, Captain Typhoon.” I told him with a deeply respectful salute and grin. As I said it, methinks it left me feeling how odd it was to call somepony else by that title. But to be Captain of the Guard meant he was a service head and not just a mere ship commander, and thus by definition, he outranked me. “The Loyalty is at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Captain Shady,” he rejoined, his tone dry but containing the barest note of humor. “I believe I will avail myself of that offer, as I also bear a message for the bat-ponies. To that end, I wish to meet them formally, and I believe your ship is the proper place to do so.”

“Of course, sir. We have already received a request from their new Division commander to meet us. But a message?” I repeated.

“A personal appeal from the Princess,” he stated simply, then his eyes narrowed slightly. “And a warning…”

Thank you once again for taking this section, Commodore.

In truth, I started writing it myself but had to stop. As to why, I fear that unlike Gavian, there are certain memories I simply do not like to relive or dwell upon, even now. ‘Tis not so much the fear and terror of losing him I did not wish to recall, but the great and abiding shame that I could not protect him and fell so easily. That Thunderbolt could simply not be stopped by me or anypony else short of the Captain or Ambassador does not matter to a mother’s love, or her instincts to protect.

So I will simply state ‘twas a bitter lesson indeed in terms of where I stood and how far I had yet to go; that there were levels of power and ability far above mine that I could not yet touch. I vowed then to redouble my efforts to do so, and I daresay ‘twas the same for Fell Flight and Swift Strike as well. None of us liked being humbled or the knowledge that we had failed to defend our son, student, and friend.

Though the question has been posed to me as to whether I could have taken Thunderbolt in wingblade combat as opposed to a battle of lightning affinities at that point in time, I must reluctantly but truthfully answer no. For if I could not defeat Swift Strike, who at least knew Thunderbolt’s abilities but was still felled by him easily, then ‘tis certain I had even less chance of success in direct combat with our future Bolt Knight comrade than he.

But one lesson I learned first from Windshear stuck with me, even long after his fall—defeat is but an opportunity to learn and better oneself. And now that I had seen what was possible with a fully realized combat ability and lightning affinity, I vowed to recommit myself to reaching them, even in whatever time we had left before we entered the war again.

I also couldn’t help but wonder if there was any way I could learn that strange art of the Captain’s, if for no other reason than to have the means to ensure Gavian’s safety should he not be present to pull our flanks out of the proverbial fire again.

—Firefly

Aftershocks

EAS Loyalty
Central District Anchorage Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0200 hours

Methinks I spent the next hour seeing to Gavian’s well-being and the treatment of my friends.

Fell Flight came to fairly quickly, as the stun-level shock she’d received wore off, and initially refused to be taken to the infirmary until she was satisfied that Gavian was safe.

Despite her expressing great satisfaction over Thunderbolt’s defeat and wishing she had seen it, I knew her well enough to tell how torn she was over him. For Thunderbolt was her beloved mentor no less than Windshear was mine; the stallion who had set her straight when she was but a troubled and belligerent filly, later putting her on the road to military service.

He had personally trained and sponsored her in the face of anti-thestral bigotry, teaching her everything from the gryphon tongue to tactics and wingblade combat. And when she had rescued three abducted earth pony families from gryphon raiders, infiltrating Imperial territory to do so, he had pinned the Sapphire Sentinel medal—the Corps’ highest combat award—and the Sergeant stripes she’d won with that action on her dress tunic personally.

Once she was able, she went outside to find Thunderbolt still lying in a cloudbank. Telling me that she would speak to him privately, I watched from a distance as she lectured him angrily as he could only listen helplessly; at one point she hoisted him bodily into the air, lectured him again and gave him a hard hoofstriker hit to the jaw that left him bleeding before dropping him and flying away, her mood dark.

All she would say afterwards was that “he expressed no remorse and promised me I would understand soon.” She shook her head angrily.

In contrast, Swift Strike didn’t wake up for several hours. He suffered a severe double-concussion from the fight, once from being hit in the head by Thunderbolt’s hoof and the other from being struck by the hilt of his own throwing blade. He thus had very few memories of the action afterwards, which ’twas the reason he did not contribute to the retelling of the scene.

Still Way tended him along with the ship’s healers, demonstrating he could turn his now-famous arts to more medical ends, ensuring the damage my Black Lance friend suffered wasn’t permanent and he could return to duty quickly.

“I oft wondered if I could actually take Thunderbolt whilst I was assigned to watch him some years ago. ‘Twould seem I have my answer,” my Black Lance friend told me ruefully the next morning. He put up a brave front, but he seemed rather depressed to my eyes. Perchance ‘twas understandable; he had thought himself nearly invulnerable only to be disabused of that notion rather rudely over the past few days. Worse, he had failed to defend Gavian when he needed protection the most.

After reading the initial draft of this entry, which I sent to him at Foxford University in Trottingham, he notes to me that the way he felt was probably much the way that the Ravens did after facing Thunderbolt, and for the very same reasons. Upon reflection, I cannot but agree. For finding an opponent against whom all your skill and experience counts for nothing is very demoralizing, to say nothing of extremely frightening to find yourself reduced to a helpless foal in their presence.

And as for myself? I shook off the electrical blow within another minute and helped Gavian back inside, given leave by both Captains to do so. Even as I comforted him, I noted my much-more rapid recovery from this latest lightning strike as opposed to from the Magus bolt I’d taken back in the cavern. It left me wondering if by absorbing these blows, my body ‘twas in fact becoming better able to manage them.

‘Twas a question for later, however, as a badly-shaken Gavian needed reassurance; methinks ‘twas his combat confidence that was hurt most of all. We kept him inside after that and under guard at all times for the duration of our stay in Cloudsdale; Private Mammatus—whose actual PSD rank, I later learned, was a Stiletto Sergeant; their equivalent of Flight Sergeant—taking over for Swift Strike again as he spent the next day in the infirmary.

Given leave to do so, I stayed with my son for the rest of the night. In the end, with Reveille sounding and my services needed elsewhere, Gavian assured me he would be fine even though I knew it to be a lie from his darting eyes and shaking talons. His life was safe, but his trauma would linger, and would not be fully helped until he could face and fight Thunderbolt again.

That day would never come if I could help it, as I wanted nothing to do with Thunderbolt after that, and I admit to feeling regret as I saw the wreckage of my friends and Gavian’s psyche that the Captain did not kill him.

Fate had other plans, however, and though I would not have believed it then, ‘twas to our great benefit that he did not.

‘Twas to the great benefit of us all, Captain, as his otherworldly combat abilities would yet prove crucial in this conflict, saving not just a single city but all Equestria more than once.

When I think about Thunderbolt, I am reminded of an old saying that ‘no great gift comes without an equally great curse’. The reverse holds true as well, as my own abilities have driven home over the course of my life. I thought for the longest time ‘twas but the worst kind of jinx only to finally find that it—and I—did indeed have a place and purpose; a way both myself and my strange power could serve others.

In an odd way, ‘tis the balance of Harmony, methinks. ‘Tis also true that to be capable of great good and deeds is also to be capable of incredibly immoral and evil ones… and vice-versa. There are no exceptions to this, and in some ways, methinks Thunderbolt was the ultimate embodiment of that truth, capable of saving all Cloudsdale on one hoof and slaughtering innocents on the other.

He was not a problem for now, though. As the table was set in my wardroom for what may as well have been a state dinner, ‘twas time to receive our honored guests, and conduct what still promised to be some rather delicate negotiations regarding the disposition of Cloudsdale and Thestralslovakia’s potential role in the war.

Looking back from thirty years later, I feel I must apologize to Admiral Tailwind for denying him access to that meeting, but ‘twas a deliberate choice to keep my second out of the line of fire should the thestrals engage in some form of treachery.

‘Twas not that I believed that likely given the Major General’s removal and all that had happened since, but one thing Thunderbolt’s assault on Gavian had driven home was that guards could never be dropped. That in war you had to be alert at all times, even to the dangers posed by your own side.

—Commodore Shady

Nocturnal Neighbors

EAS Loyalty
Captain’s Wardroom
Central District Airship Anchorage
Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0200 hours

Two hours after the anxiety of our approach followed by the brief but terrifying battle with Thunderbolt, the ship was finally coming off general quarters and the crew was allowed to rest.

Most of them, anyway. The hours were odd, but so were the ones our Nightborne hosts kept as my wardroom was hurriedly prepared to receive them as honored guests. Thunderbolt, by then, had been retrieved by the Captain and personally thrown in the brig—after, that is, he released him from paralysis but also somehow disabled the stallion’s lightning affinity. Methinks I never understood how his odd art worked, but ‘twas no blunt instrument; his control of it was so precise he was able to use it to selectively disable any group of muscles or magical abilities he chose.

And as we would learn shortly, he could enhance them as well.

He had a storage gem with him that contained both his armor and his formal uniform, and he donned the latter here as I did the same to receive the Nightborne division commander and her aides. Fell Flight joined us as Corps representative in lieu of her future Captain this time, as Firefly wished to remain with Gavian; ‘twas to the immense credit of our shipboard tailors that they quickly fashioned for her a passable dark blue Corps dress uniform from available stocks.

The first to arrive were not the thestrals, but the Cloudsdale contingent, led by Rolling Thunder. He did not bother with formal uniform; methinks he’d barely slept over the past several days and had only hastily bathed and groomed for the affair. Nevertheless, his appearance in a quickly cleaned and ironed Corps combat uniform was, to my surprise, greeted with great warmth by Fell Flight.

“Sergeant Major!” She saluted him crisply, her dark mood instantly brightening at the sight of him. “’Tis an honor to see you again!”

“Trainee Fell Flight,” The Sergeant Major recognized her with a warm grin. “’Tis an honor for me as well, and to see the superb soldier you have become! I knew you had it in you, and I couldn’t have been more proud when I heard of your daring assault on the Indala raider group!” He returned her salute and offered her his hoof, motioning to her head with his wing. “I do not recall you with green eyes, so ’twould seem you indeed found a solution for your day blindness?”

She smiled and bumped it respectfully. “Indeed I did—thanks in part to the recommendation of you and Sergeant Panacea, sir!” More pleasantries between the two were exchanged before a bell was shortly rung to warn us our visitors were arriving, being received by an honor guard led by the Mare at Arms on the foredeck.

“Nightborne Army, 3rd Division—arriving!”Cutlass Cleave called out over the general quarters crystal, her announcement indicating that the commander of the stated force had stepped hoof onto the ship. Preparations were then rushed to completion as she welcomed them aboard and escorted them to my wardroom, within a cordon of guards.

Once again, the lights were dimmed, but this time, the table was set for a meal. ‘Twas closer to breakfast than dinner for us, but the bat-ponies had their sleep and meal schedules reversed from ours, and thus we served what for us would have been an evening feast—minus the meat, of course; as the fish we’d obtained from the Lunar Sea was prepared at Fell Flight’s instructions.

Though less than happy about cooking for carnivores, methinks the galley had outdone themselves, producing everything from Cloud Creole to glazed carrots to exquisite dinner rolls, and had even managed to cook the fish to Fell Flight’s satisfaction.

The doors then opened to admit six bat-ponies, four mares and two stallions dressed in their own formal finery—excepting Colonel Aegir Ale, who had been there on the foredeck with Cutlass Cleave to greet them but didn’t have her dress uniform with her.

At their head was a bat-winged mare with bright orange eyes and a short-cut deep purple mane whose dark coat had a slightly greenish cast—Brigadier General Blackhawk herself; her single star prominent on her starched collar along with a series of sparkling silver epaulettes. They were in marked contrast to her deep indigo dress uniform; one that looked very reminiscent of the Naval uniforms of Luna’s time. They were all armed with but a pair of sheathed short blades, which seemed odd, as I saw no way they could both be wielded at once by their mouths.

Introductions were then made and salutes were exchanged—the bat-ponies habitually saluted with a wing instead of a hoof, we quickly learned, and did so with their odd mid-wing talons. We were surprised, however, when the General brought out several bottles of what they called ‘wines’; fruity alcoholic beverages that had more bite than ale and far less sweetness than cider. Though I wasn’t sure about them at first—a glance around the table showed me my uncertain opinion was shared by the other ponies present—in time I found them surprisingly pleasant and mellowing.

“Before we begin, I wish to offer my most fervent apologies, Captain Typhoon,” General Blackhawk addressed Typhoon first, who was sitting in my usual spot at the head of the table whilst I took the first officer’s position.

“Our formal inquiry into the General’s actions has just begun, but ‘twould seem all his machinations were meant to bring about conflict between our two sides, in direct violation of his orders. In hindsight, his instructions to Colonel Ale were designed to provoke battle with the Loyalty, and ‘twould also seem he was trying to find a way to secretly get word to the gryphons that Cloudsdale was here. He was further deliberately withholding aid and supplies from the city in hopes of causing riots and attacks on our soldiers.”

“I knew it,” Rolling Thunder growled under his breath as the first plates were served, starting with the highest-ranked guest first, then the highest-ranked civilian, which was actually High Pressure, the Governor of Cloudsdale. The serving staff then altered serving the bat-ponies and civilians, working their way down the rank list until all were served.

Hearing him, the General turned to Rolling Thunder next. “Be assured, Sergeant Major, that we are working to redress this immense wrong immediately—on the real orders of the Lunar Council, we are flying up as many supplies as we can. I will also give you what medicines and medics I can spare, but lacking unicorns, I fear that our healing arts are simply not the equal of yours.”

“Any aid you can send would be welcome,” Rolling Thunder replied, speaking more diplomatically at the warning glance from Typhoon. “’Tis certain the city’s hospitals and healers are taxed to the limit, and we have had dozens die in the past day alone, succumbing to both injury… and grief.” He bowed his head. “We are also running short of food.”

“I see.” The General nodded gravely. “We will supply you with all we can before your departure.”

“Your assistance is appreciated, if belated, General,” Captain Typhoon pursed his hooves, not immediately starting into his meal. “But the safety of the city is only part of my reason for coming here.” His announcement caused the General to noticeably stiffen, as perchance she knew what was coming next.

“I am here on behalf of Princess Celestia herself. To be blunt, your nation’s open declaration of neutrality in this conflict is not acceptable,” the Captain stated directly. “As Equestria stands invaded by a powerful foe, the Solar Princess calls upon Thestralslovakia to fulfill the terms of the sovereignty settlement signed three centuries ago, and offer her soldiers into our service.”

Difficult Diplomacy

All eating stopped as the General schooled her expression carefully. “You wouldst understand, Captain, that your Princess is not the most popular figure in our nation, and that we are in a rather… delicate position right now with the gryphons already poised on our eastern border,” she replied. “Many would say that treaty was signed under duress, and that we are in fact under no obligation to defend any borders but our own.”

“And do you really think the gryphons will stop with us, General?” Fell Flight, I had quickly learned, was never one to stay silent or mince words as her fish was served. “They want all of Equis under their wings, and you lie squarely on the flank of their advance! How long do you think ‘twould be before they decide that an army of predatory ponies who could potentially strike into their rear cannot be ignored?”

The General stared at her in distaste for a moment, though to her credit, she had not reacted with outright hatred or bigotry at my Corps colleague’s introduction. “You wouldst forgive me if I take your counsel with a large grain of salt, Master Sergeant, given you’re a Highborne,” she said in an air that suggested she was pointing out the obvious.

“So I’ve been told.” Fell Flight rolled her eyes and shot a glare at Aegir Ale, who had to look away. “You may take my counsel however you wish, General, but for the record? The title of ‘Highborne’ is meaningless to me. Methinks I had barely even heard that term before yesterday! I know not where my eyes came from, as my lineage is pegasus for as far as it can be traced. I grew up here in Cloudsdale, so be assured that the only side I serve or act in the interest of is that of Equestria!”

“I can vouch for her, General.” Colonel Aegir Ale spoke up from her superior’s left. “She acted to protect me when my aide turned on me.”

“Your aide?” Blackhawk and Typhoon echoed.

“We have detained Corporal Zodiac, as he attempted to arrest her for treason and threatened our lives when she agreed to escort us across the border,” I explained shortly.

“As well he should have, when he witnessed what he saw as treachery from his superior,” the General surprised me by nodding approvingly. “All subordinates are required to help hold their superiors to account in the Nightborne Army. Given he was only attempting to do so, I will request his immediate release.”

I exchanged glances with Typhoon before speaking, who nodded. “You may have it—with the understanding that I do not take kindly to having my life threatened in my own wardroom.” I finished by raising an eyeridge of my own.

“In fairness, your life was not under threat, Captain,” Aegir Ale spoke up as she sniffed at the Cloud Creole and took a small bite, then blinked, followed by taking a larger forkful. “Corporal Zodiac was armed with nonlethal projectiles as per my instructions. If we had to make a quick getaway, his orders were to fire the electrical bolt to stun our pursuers and the smoke bolt to cover our escape. Such bolts cannot easily kill… though launching one into my head at point-blank range might do it.” She grimaced, then raised her glowing eyes to mine.

“I know our ways may seem unduly… severe, but do not judge him harshly, Captain. He was trying to obey his standing orders and acting in what he thought were the best interests of his nation,” Colonel Ale went on when she saw my troubled expression. “He was young and overzealous, and ‘tis certain he did not think things through. But I blame myself for not sharing my suspicions with him or anybat else previously. I should have briefed him more fully.”

I admit I was given some pause by the use of anybat in the place of anypony. “I see…” Methinks I had to reappraise my opinion of both the Corporal and Colonel at that moment, raising my estimation of both. I already respected the Colonel, but ‘twould seem she had planned things out even better than I had previously given her credit. And though badly misguided, the Corporal’s actions required no small set of horse apples to attempt.

“If it makes you feel better, Colonel, I admit to some of those same doubts but not sharing them with anybat either. ‘Twas not until your gambit exposed the Major General that I was able to act. For revealing his treachery and preventing conflict, I do not believe you will face any real punishment for your actions, though ‘tis certain there will still be some calls for your head.”

“I knew this when I elected to disobey my orders,” the Colonel admitted, her expression turning downcast. “As I believe I will be treated fairly now, I will surrender myself for arrest and court martial if you wish.”

“‘Tis not my place, but may I request she remain here, as Nightborne liaison to the Loyalty, General Blackhawk?” I spoke up. “You wouldst understand that for leading us safely to the city and successfully exposing the Major General whilst preventing a bloody battle from erupting, we trust her now. I feel she has earned that post.”

The General thought about that, and then nodded slowly. “For the moment… yes. Though ‘tis possible she will yet be recalled pending an inquiry into her actions. I can assign her to you for now, and make a recommendation to our leadership that she stay in such a post, yes. But ultimately, her fate will not be decided by me.”

“Understood.” I accepted her terms as, to the surprise of all, the Captain of the Guard requested and received a fish after he’d only been served vegetarian fare along with everypony else short of Fell Flight.

“I am pleased to see such amenable discussions and attempts at accommodation between our two sides. ‘Tis my great hope they can continue,” Typhoon spoke up again. “The city may leave soon, but I wish to be taken to your leadership in Hollow Shades. My instructions are to deliver the Princess’s appeal to your Viceroy and Lunar Council personally, and I am authorized to negotiate on her behalf.”

“Unfortunately, Captain Typhoon, I am not authorized to grant you permission to journey there, or to conduct such negotiations,” Blackhawk replied cautiously. “I will pass along your request immediately upon my return. Regardless, we do ask that Cloudsdale provide us with as much rainwater as you can before departure, since it seems unlikely you will meet your usual mid-month schedule for refilling Lake Luna. I might suggest that such an action would go a long way towards making the Council look favorably upon you.”

“We can’t,” Rolling Thunder muttered.

“We’re sorry, General, but the weather factory was destroyed, and with it, our entire cloud supply,” High Pressure explained, her voice subdued. “Please understand—we are still tallying the damage and dead. We lost not just the facilities but far too many of its workers, so ‘twill be many months—or perchance even years—before the factory ‘tis rebuilt and working properly again.” Her lip quivered and Fell Flight visibly stiffened; I did not then know she had family who worked at the weather factory.

“I see…” The Nightborne General exchanged worried glances with her aides. “This will be problematic for our irrigation systems, as Lake Luna is starting to run low.”

“Rain will come, but not from us,” Typhoon spoke up, waiting until attention was on him before explaining: “The Princess has ordered that all weather control over Greater Equestria be suspended for the duration of the conflict. That means that wild weather patterns will slowly reestablish themselves—that given time, fronts and low pressure areas will sweep across the continent again as they did in days of yore. It may take some weeks, but rain will fall on Thestralslovakia again before harvest.”

“Then what is the point of our agreement if you cannot meet your side of the bargain?” one of her aides—a stallion Lieutenant Colonel—asked. “Why should we pay taxes or obey the treaty in such an instance?”

Typhoon’s eyes narrowed, as did my own. He held up a restraining hoof as Fell Flight hissed and Rolling Thunder looked ready to launch into a tirade. “We have faithfully filled your reservoirs and left you to your own affairs for three hundred years, Colonel. These circumstances are exceptional, and I sincerely doubt that your logic would be looked upon favorably by the Princess. Or Equestria as a whole,” he said with a dry tone and an arched eyeridge, leaving me in admiration of his tact and diplomatic touch.

The Nightborne officer looked like he was about to retort, but this time was stilled by a raised wing from his superior. “My apologies again, Captain Typhoon. We are soldiers, not administrators or diplomats, and such decisions as you seek are far above our pay grade. We may have opinions on the matter, of course, but ‘tis our duty to the nation we serve that we keep them to ourselves and to let our elected leaders decide our course of action?” she concluded pointedly with a warning glance to the Lieutenant Colonel, who fell sullen.

No Hard Feelings

“Which is why I request to be taken to them.” He nodded in genuine respect to his Nightborne counterpart, who methinks I was rapidly coming to like as well. “In the meantime, I am satisfied with both your attempts to make amends for Major General Muscadine, and the quality of the meal here. So let us not speak more of political matters for now, and simply enjoy this feast—a rare respite in a time of war,” he invited as the fish was served, and everybody watched in varying degrees of surprise and satisfaction as he did not hesitate to slice a piece and pop it in his mouth.

“Well-seared and well-seasoned. My compliments to the galley. And perchance, General Blackhawk, I may trouble your side for a meal of slow-cooked flying boar before I depart?” He requested to shocked looks from our enlisted unicorn attendants, who quickly schooled their expressions though one facing me had to visibly stifle a gag.

“Methinks that could be arranged,” the General openly chuckled, enjoying the reaction of the galley staff as much as he did. “My compliments to your cooks as well, Captain Shady. I know not what this is, but ‘tis excellent, and the fish was prepared perfectly,” she said as she loaded a larger forkful of the fluffy rice-and-vegetable pile covered with a tomato cream sauce onto her plate.

“Cloud Creole,” I named it. “Originally a Neigh Orleans specialty imported and then altered by Cloudsdale pegasi. And you may thank the Master Sergeant here for the fish preparation. ‘Twas done at her instructions.” I nodded to Fell Flight, who bowed her head in acknowledgement.

“I see…” the General said somewhat grudgingly, but complimented her all the same. “Then I thank you for your hospitality and understanding, Master Sergeant Fell Flight, and apologize for any… visceral reactions your appearance may have provoked. You may not know your ancestry, and for it, our rivalry with the so-called Highborne, but be assured ‘tis mutual enmity that was well-earned.” Her eyes glittered angrily for a moment.

“Nevertheless, as ‘twould seem you have earned the Colonel’s trust, you have earned mine as well. ‘Tis it true what the Colonel says—that you have special lenses which enable you to function equally well in both darkness and day?”

“’Tis indeed.” Fell Flight grinned and repeated her firegem trick, earning some startled flinches from the bat-ponies and the unicorn staff as her left eye turned instantly from nearly gold to a deep green when the gem was lit beside it. “And with them, day is like night to me, and I can fight within it easily. ‘Tis what enabled me to join the Equestrian Aerial Corps and reach the rank I now hold!” she proclaimed as Rolling Thunder suddenly looked like a proud papa.

“Remarkable…” The General sounded impressed, though some of her other subordinates looked troubled. “I might wish to know more, as such a treatment could do wonders for our own daytime combat capability.”

“Perchance that could be part of any bargain we reach,” Typhoon suggested idly. “But ‘tis a question for later. Difficult times and talks lie ahead, so for now, let us simply enjoy the moment. To friendship, and to two sides sitting down together for a shared meal in peace and Harmony,” he offered, raising his glass of thestral wine in a hoof in toast. ‘Twas accepted and repeated, with glasses gently clinked together before sips were taken.

Our meal and discussions went for another hour before concluding.

Thank you for sharing this tale, Commodore. I find myself feeling regret now that I declined the opportunity to partake in that dinner, but Gavian needed me and ‘twould seem that Fell Flight did quite well in my stead. Indeed, mayhap she was the better choice for the affair anyway, as sometimes her bluntness and directness was what even a diplomatic dinner required.

Methinks she made abundantly clear to our Nightborne guests by word and by deed who she was, and where her loyalties lay. By doing so, she won respect and a second look from those initially inclined to dismiss her for her mixed heritage and the color of her fur. ‘Tis certain she had no idea what role she was yet to play with them, and would likely have scoffed at the notion were it suggested to her then.

—Firefly

Methinks you are correct, Captain. But I now know ‘twas always my destiny, and one that, to this day, I strive to fulfill. But ‘tis not that which drives me now so much as a simple desire to see my old comrades properly remembered and honored.

Greetings to all. This is Fell Flight, recently returned and stealing the last word of this entry with but a brief announcement: The Society of Outpost Omega Survivors has indeed reached its decision as to what to do with the revealed Imperial information about the fate of our beloved base, and it will be fulfilled as quickly as it can be arranged by Corps Command and Canterlot.

Unfortunately, ‘quickly’ will still mean a matter of some months. The Captain has already described the broad outlines of our desired outcome, but much remains to be done in order to bring it to fruition. To its end, we request donations and expertise from both camps to build the war memorial/museum we envision there, and ask for it in return for the gryphon side when the Equestrian dishonor is finally revealed.

—Fell Flight
President, Society of Outpost Omega Survivors
Canterlot

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.” ― Oscar Wilde

Author's Note

Sorry for the delay, but I hope everyone is staying well and engaged during this crazy Coronavirus time. I offer this up as the same respite Typhoon spoke of, so as the Captain of the Guard says, let us speak not of politics and simply enjoy the chapter. Thanks as always goes to AJ_Aficionado, who is always very prompt with his prereads and the frequency of his comments, and to Silentwoodfire and Denim_Blue. The former has been helping me with some other things and the latter has been dealing with health issues he says he is finally getting over.

For the time being, stay in and stay well, folks. And know that this, too, shall pass.

Rally and Recover: 10 - Casualties of War

Dear readers—

I’m sorry for the dearth of new entries lately, but much has been happening of late in all our lives. My firstborn daughter, Firehawk, is leaving for overseas, having volunteered to be part of a private expeditionary force being sent to secure an isolated gryphon colony on the shores of the Ebon Ocean, one menaced by the Ibexian Supremacy.

She is doing so over my dead body. Never mind the danger she faces from the Ibexians; I fear the notoriety of her name—of my name—means she will be facing death duels or even assassination attempts in the former Empire. But she insists, saying that she must step out of my shadow by doing something I never did, volunteering to defend the remote but longstanding enclave against the aggressive and hostile dragon-backed Ibexians in the east.

The situation on that long border between the Kingdom and Supremacy is much as it was between Equestria and the Empire before the war, with Ibexian-sponsored paramilitary groups harassing and occasionally outright attacking gryphon lands. Were I less well-disposed to our former foes, I would say ‘tis an ironic and deserved twist to have what amounts to raider groups used against them much as they employed against us.

Regardless of my feelings on the matter, she is of age, and a civilian again after five years of service in the Equestrian Aerial Corps, so I have no authority over her. She has chosen her path, and ‘tis certain she is up to the challenge. She can certainly take care of herself, and perchance I worry too much. But worrying, I learned long ago, is what mothers do.

And defying their parents is often what growing or grown foals do, as Gavian was the first to show me.

—Firefly

Unknown Objectives (”Nerves” by Kevin Macleod)

EAS Loyalty
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
0630 hours

Sleeplessness, I was quickly coming to learn, was a normal state in war.

Dawn had barely broken when word of a renewed gryphon offensive was received, all along the front. The Nightborne were in some initial consternation at the news as well, only to realize to their relief that they were not being targeted; the gryphons were thus far studiously respecting their territory even as they advanced south to take more of the coastline, apparently intending to push through Pristinia into the Campelonian provinces.

The impression I had ‘twas that they were moving to slowly surround Thestralslovakia for a future strike, one shared by Fell Flight and Father once the outlines of the attack became clear. We could only hope ‘twould be taken as potentially threatening by the bat-ponies—that they would act before their strategic position became untenable, and there was still a chance for them to make a difference in the war.

Regardless of the Empire’s intentions, it did complicate our mission. The departure of Cloudsdale was delayed a day until we knew where the Imperials were pushing and where the safe routes north were. For if they were making their main effort in the center, as seemed likely given ‘twas the most direct route to Canterlot, then Cloudsdale would be vulnerable in transit to sky gryphon attack. ’Twas feared they might well try to throw a full Talon legion at us if the front moved close enough, in which case we would have to circle further west, taking the city over Highborne lands to an unknown reception and delaying arrival at Windy City by several more days.

‘Twas thus decided to wait two nights to depart, both for greater knowledge of Imperial operations and to allow for Captain Typhoon to return from Hollow Shades. Despite accepting his request to travel to their Capital and confer with their Lunar Council, the Nightborne initially wanted Cloudsdale to leave immediately, fearful of the Gryphon reaction to discovering they were harboring the city.

But they relented when reminded that to simply be seen leaving the Foal Mountains would implicate them, and thus, we had to wait for nightfall when the mists would be thickest and the city could be hidden most easily on its way north.

Whilst we waited, the Nightborne resupplied us with the help of the Loyalty lifeboats, plying us with preserved fruits and vegetables as well as some crude breads they could make—they clearly did not have an earth pony touch with farming, but ‘twas impressive what they had been able to do without them.

Few of their wares were fresh, with harvest time for all but some peaches not yet reached, but they’d learned some interesting non-magical preservation techniques; giving us jars of nuts that had been turned into a thick paste and fruits into very sweet and spreadable slurries.

They offered us some fish and other meats as well, and there were some complaints about that and the quality of their food until Typhoon forcibly reminded residents that we could not be fastidious, and that the pegasi of old had indeed been omnivorous. He then ate a small fish in front of a crowd to demonstrate that we could, and asked the thestrals for instructions on preparing them, planning to have the ship’s printing presses start churning out copies along with the city’s news services, who had been doing little for days but publishing lists of the dead.

News of the Loyalty’s arrival had quickly spread through the city, and, hungry for news of greater Equestria, a large crowd had gathered by mid-morning to see the airship. Leave was granted in stages for crew pegasi to find their families, and I did the same for the Corps contingent, whilst leaving enough present to remain out on patrol.

As I had no family in Cloudsdale, I let Fell Flight be amongst the first group, deciding she had more than earned it over the first few days of war. Granted a full day’s leave, she departed with a communication crystal and a promise from me to summon her instantly if she was needed. I told her I would, but she had no sooner exited the ship when she was hailed.

“Fell Flight!” A shrill young female voice called out, causing my second’s head to whip around.

“Morning Glory?” Fell Flight immediately recognized, her thestral eyes searching for and then locking on to a single figure in the crowd; a barely adult mare with what appeared to be two younger siblings huddled close against her, standing on the cloud surface instead of hovering like most. I knew not what the other mare’s relation to my second was until she spoke her next word. “Sister?”

She instantly dove off the deck, the crowd of pegasi parting quickly for her as she neared her kin.

And the rest I will leave for Fell Flight herself to tell.

I would say thank you, Captain, but much as you found it painful to recount the attack on Gavian, this pain is mine—and my surviving siblings—to bear.

‘Tis certain the last few weeks have not been pleasant ones for me, between the revelations regarding Outpost Omega and now being forced to recall both my failure to stop Thunderbolt and what followed the next day. ‘Tis certain I had nary an idea what Thunderbolt meant when he told me that I would understand and soon thank him, but an unhappy education was shortly to follow.

Not just for that, but for all Thunderbolt had done to save the city in its darkest hour, leaving me more torn over his assault on Gavian than ever.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral High Emissary
Thestral Enclave
Canterlot

Familial Fates

Foal Mountains
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
0800 hours

‘Twas with both relief and a sinking heart that I heard my sister’s cry.

We shared the same sire, of course, as most herds had just one. But we had different mothers, and in general temperament, she was nothing like me; as peaceful and gentle a pony as you could ever find. ‘Twas for that reason I had feared for her as much as anypony in my family, knowing she worked at the weather factory along with my grown siblings, my parents and the rest of our herd.

Indeed, ‘twas certain Morning Glory knew nothing of war or fighting, even if she’d professed admiration for me becoming a soldier in the past. She had even once told me that she wished to one day join the storm cloud production lines, in hopes of helping me in at least some small way. I, in turn, had great affection for her, as she’d been one of the few of my siblings to never abandon me, even when I’d been at the lowest and most belligerent points of my oft-unhappy youth.

I immediately flew towards her, and the crowd gave way before me—they knew me well by reputation if nothing else, as I’d gone from unwanted half-breed to hero following my action against the Indala raider group, and ‘twas certain my large form combined with glowing thestral eyes made me unmistakeable even to those who had never seen or met me.

“Morning?” What hap—” I did not finish before she and my two youngest sisters leapt into my embrace, sobbing, with Morning Glory clutching my head whilst Heat Wave and Wind Shift, who were only in their middle teens and barely half my size, latching onto my forelegs and not letting go.

“Easy, my sisters. I’m here. You’re safe. Ssshh…” I told them, hugging them with my wings until their sobs had subsided several minutes later.

“Fell Flight… I’m so happy to see you…” My sister finally told me through her tears, though her tone was anything but happy.

“We h-heard from the Corps soldiers that all the border bases had fallen… th-thought you were dead too!” Heat Wave added in a choked voice whilst Wind Shift stifled another sob.

Dead too? The implications of that statement chilled me to the bone as I stepped back from them and took a closer look at the three, but mostly at Glory.

The first thing I noticed was her haggard form and sleepless eyes. Even as they locked on me, they darted to and fro, constantly scanning for new threats. I knew what it meant instantly, having seen it many times before, both from Corps soldiers and even civilians following their first combat in bitter battles with raider groups at Outposts Omega and Epsilon.

But I never dreamt I would see it on the face of my own precious and innocent sister in Cloudsdale. And even worse, I saw scars. Deep physical and emotional scars, from the healing but still-visible blade wounds on her side to the utter agony in her eyes—the look of one who had been in battle for the first time and worse, been forced against her heart and all Harmony to fight and kill.

‘Tis worth noting that, in my estimation, Morning Glory was perchance the least likely of my many siblings, whether full or half, to be a soldier or warrior, and yet here she now was, having clearly been forced into the role.

I knew not how she had survived, but ‘twas to my great relief she stood here before me. Sadly, that relief was to be very short-lived. “Glory?” My voice wavered ever-so-slightly, for I feared I already knew the answer to the question I was about to pose. “Where are Mother and Father?”

Suddenly neither she nor my other sisters could meet my eyes, and an icy ball materialized in my stomach. “Aunt Azure? Aunt Droughtbreaker? Aunt Humulus?” I inquired about my parents’ herdmates.

Her eyes held a haunted look in them, one of a pony who was still coming to grips with the truth as she spoke just above a whisper. “D-dead…” Glory finally confirmed my worst fears as I felt my knees go weak, a wave of despair and desperate anger washing over me in that moment, along with a large measure of guilt at not being there to protect them.

She took in a shaky breath as fresh tears ran down her cheeks, struggling to continue. “All of them! And Midday Mist and Sea Spray and… and…!” She broke down bawling again along with my two youngest sisters, all of whom clutched me again whilst nearby pegasi bowed their head and withdrew to a respectful distance.

‘Twas thus I learned that our entire family had been reduced from thirteen to just myself and the three siblings before me. That every adult member of our herd had perished in the attack on the weather factory save myself and Morning Glory. I knew not then how she survived, and ‘twas unimportant in that instant. What was important to me was that I see to my sisters and find out what happened to my parents as I returned to the home of my youth.

Dimmu Borgir - Mourning Palace Piano Cover

Our house was empty.

Eerily so, given the normal bustle of the place with my parents and Aunts coming and going constantly, along with my sisters and one brother going to work and school. There was always food being made or games being played or homework being done. But now…?

Now, ‘twas replaced with a suffocating silence, and the only light to be found was over the firegem hearth, where two primary feathers, now encased in crystal, were all that was left of our family. One belonged to my Aunt Azure—Heat Wave’s mother—and the other to Fresh Gale, the sole son in our extended herd. Being a stallion had not spared him the blade any more than being a civilian did, and for it, my fury at the Empire only grew.

They were all that could be recovered, the two having been slain in the cafeteria when the gryphons arrived. And worse, just getting two feathers back meant we were the lucky ones—so many dead fell through the clouds to the surface below; their primary feathers would never be recovered. Thus, neither my parents, siblings nor my other herdmates could ever be given a proper funeral ritual.

Even for these two, there was no body beyond the single feathers I could pay my respects to. Those who died but did not fall through the clouds, either for being inside or on some other solid surface, were cremated as per pegasi custom. Part of it was practical—we simply could not store or bury dead bodies in Cloudsdale, as once life left a pegasus, their flight magic went with them and they simply fell through the cloud surface.

Part of it was traditional—cremation was favored so we could be reduced to dust carried upon the winds pegasi wielded, letting them remain forever part of them. But none of it mattered to me as I decided I needed to see the battle site, and thus announced my intention to go to the weather factory.

‘Twas not met with a good reaction. Morning Glory could not bear the thought of going there again after the battle, and after she’d been forced to search the dead for our family, whilst Heat Wave and Wind Shift were terrified of being left alone, clinging to me and begging me to not only stay, but never leave them again.

In the end, I relented—at least until afternoon, after I’d gotten them to eat a little and told them of the fights I’d already had; just how we’d escaped Epsilon. The fact that we’d won a victory—any victory—seemed to settle them a bit, and my two youngest sisters finally closed their eyes and rested for the first time in days whilst in my presence.

I waited until they were well and truly asleep before departing, but Morning Glory again declined to accompany me, electing to stay home and watch over the two; at least once she’d been assured—again—that I would return and stay overnight, for the duration of my leave.

Reason or Rage (Destination and Revenge by Kevin MacLeod)

Ten minutes later, I wandered in a daze through the ruins of the weather factory.

With the sole exceptions of the raincloud and rainbow foundries, most of the buildings were badly damaged or destroyed. ‘Twas certain they’d all been burned and blasted to varying degrees as only a few remained standing; even the civilian worker dorms and outlying moisture collection stations were gone.

And then there was the Aerial Corps-controlled Storm Cloud Factory, which was built more like a fortress and garrisoned by soldiers from the equally razed Fort Tempest whilst specially screened workers created the military-grade storm clouds the Corps and Cloudsdale Militia used. ‘Twas not just rubble, but completely gone and the cloud that underlay it severely torn up.

I knew not what could have done that short of releasing all its lightning at once, but I found myself able to roughly trace the course of the battle from the available evidence, from the initial assault to the formation of battle lines to the pitched fight that followed.

A fight that peaceful civilian pegasi had been forced into, I noted over and over again as I steeled myself to enter the worker dining hall, where I’d eaten lunch a few times over the years whilst visiting my parents or aunts—a pony term for non-parent herdmates—at their jobs.

‘Twas not as bad as I feared, as the bodies of the gryphons and the weather factory workers had been cleaned up by then—those that had not fallen through the clouds, that is. But ‘twas certain the scars of the massacre remained, from occasional embedded crossbow bolts in walls to bloodstains all over the floor. And here and there...

I picked up a blade of gryphon make which caught my attention amidst the other debris, partially buried in a pile of swept-up rubble. When I shook off the dust, I found it was flawlessly balanced, far better made than the typical gryphon scimitar, with its surfaces dulled and even its hilt wrapped in drab gray strips that would allow for a sure grip by gryphon foretalons but no telltale metal gleam.

‘Twas a weapon of precision and stealth meant to be wielded by a warrior of shadow, and thus, ‘twas no longer any doubt in my mind who had come calling—Ravens. ‘Twould seem, I thought with white-hot anger, that the gryphons had sent their most deadly fighters short of the Red Talons themselves; spies and assassins who killed without compunction or mercy, to slaughter unarmed and untrained civilian workers.

I am not one to believe in ghosts, and yet, as I walked amongst the bloodstained floors in the half-crumbled cafeteria, I swore I could sense restless spirits all around me. I could all but hear the panicked screams, the shrieks of agony and the desperate attempts to both protect others and fight back, all futilely against such skill at slaying.

I reflexively deployed my wingblades against the seeming threat. I was alone and all around me was silent, and yet I couldn’t shut them out; I couldn’t stop hearing them. I sat back to clutch my head and worse, for a moment, I thought I heard the voice of my sire, Dry Line, telling my mother, Evening Breeze, to get behind him whilst she in turn pleaded for him to flee.

Whether real or imagined, the sounds of death and battle bore down on me until I could no longer restrain my emotions, grabbing the blade and flinging it as hard as I could, embedding it into the ceiling.

Slashing wildly at the ghostlike enemies with my wings, I screamed in rage and pain to the skies themselves before falling to my knees and slamming my hooves down on the cracked floor tile repeatedly. It fractured further under my blows as I found myself crying openly whilst survivor’s guilt tried to overwhelm me.

I should have been there! I thought to myself over and over as I choked back sobs. I had not cried since my first failed attempt to join the Corps, when I was kicked out of basic training for day blindness and thought my eyes would forever deny me the chance, but I did so freely here.

At that moment, I thought I should never have joined the Corps. Neigh, I should have followed in my herd’s wingbeats and simply joined them in working at the weather factory. For at least then, I would have been there! Perchance I could have made a difference! Perchance I could have saved them! Or at least I would have died with them instead of being forced to carry on without them!

Instead of being forced to live with their loss!

“F-Fell Flight?” a familiar voice called out to me. I raised my tear-streaked face to the voice’s owner, who I was surprised for the second time that day to hear.

“G-Glory?” I called back. Teary-eyed, she came up and hugged me hard again once I sheathed my blades, and we cried in each other’s arms for another minute before parting. “But… you didst not wish to be here!” I protested.

“I don’t,” she confirmed with another sniffle. “But methinks you shouldn’t have t-to face it alone, either. And I thought you might need me. For comfort and to sh-show you what happened.”

‘Twas then she began to tell me the story of her survival, taking me from place to place, starting with the still-standing Rainbow Factory, which had suffered perchance the least damage of all the buildings. In its darkened interior, she described the start of the attack, and the actions she had taken to protect herself and her coworkers.

She broke down crying again as she described defeating the first Raven raid with rainbow fumes, leaving me in admiration for her quick thinking and willingness to act; one I would never have thought her capable of. Her voice broke again as she recounted taking her first life followed by Thunderbolt’s timely arrival, taking great pains to explain all he had done for them.

I then listened, stunned, as she described how he had saved them. How he had organized them for defense along with his one-winged friend Virga Veil, and then lead them into battle against the gryphons, saving scores of weather workers and costing the gryphons entire centuries of soldiers in the process.

Thunderbolt had personally sponsored and trained me so many years earlier, and perchance ‘twas only then I understood how much he’d actually been holding back on me if he could fight off an entire army of elite gryphon forces.

But even so, I at least had some sense of his skill. Glory was another matter. I could not believe my ears as she told me how and why she’d volunteered to fight alongside him despite her fears—“I just wanted to be as brave as you!” she explained through tears again as we hovered over the central grounds where her makeshift platoon had engaged Imperial Knights and Ravens.

“Glory…” How could I not hug her again even more tightly at such words?

The tour continued for another hour; there were a few other ponies and even patrols about but none disturbed us, lost in their own tasks and grief. The course of the battle crystalized firmly in my mind as my sister described not one but two waves of reinforcements reaching them, ultimately saving them.

One consisted of militia-led civilians from the other end of the city backed by special storm clouds firing gold-tinged lightning bolts, whilst the second wave was made of Corps soldiers led by Rolling Thunder ambushing the gryphons from above and chopping them up. His surprise strike had reduced their numbers enough to allow for an even fight and Thunderbolt’s final act of defiance and heroism to make their losses nearly total.

‘Twould be a lie to say I was not impressed by the tale. Perchance astonished would be a better word. I never knew my sister had it in her, or even Thunderbolt himself to take on an entire millennium of troops despite all the time I had spent with him. And for it, I suddenly found myself feeling more torn than ever, regretting my harsh treatment of him.

He said I would understand shortly why he had gone after Gavian, and in that moment, perchance I did, consumed by the exact same desire for bloody revenge as he had. ‘Tis no lie to say that for a single instant, I wanted to slay every gryphon I could.

That for a single sinister instant, I was ready to become Thunderbolt and realize my true killing potential. As if in response to my unspoken desire, I felt something very dark building in me, a whispered voice silkenly offering to remake me in his image.

NO! I shouted internally, for ‘twas then I remembered another of Thunderbolt’s warnings to me, many years earlier—to never give into such dark desires, or be consumed by them. To never surrender to thoughts of vengeance and bloodlust, or be changed from an honorable soldier into a soulless demon of death.

‘Twas that version of Thunderbolt, wise and battle-weary, who was my mentor. 'Twas also that version of him I wanted back, deciding I needed to see him again soon.

As I write this now, I find the words flowing quickly and freely. I know you have other parts of this story to get to, Captain, and ones I was not privy to. But I feel I must continue my part of this tale whilst my quill pen moves so fluidly. So methinks I will do so.

—Fell Flight

Of course, old friend. Even as I insert this note, I have already read the section to follow. Methinks I could hardly not include its content, not just for its compelling nature but for how it would affect me and Gavian. Regardless, ‘tis certain that I know quite well the feeling of suddenly finding yourself lost in the recounting of a tale, even one you wouldst have thought to be painful before.

Perchance ‘tis catharsis you seek, and through telling it you now find.

—Firefly

Recruiting Call

EAS Loyalty
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
1430 hours

Perchance you are right, Captain. But in the end, ‘tis important to neither me nor the story. ‘Tis simply what I feel I should do, and if anything has guided me throughout this life, ‘tis that I do what I feel needs to be done.

After an hour spent in the ruins of the weather factory, Morning Glory and I flew back to pick up our sisters. She had left them in the care of our neighbors, the herd of a rare Neighponese pegasus named Divine Wind, who Glory had told me had been checking on them and even staying with them frequently.

Even with the sympathetic presence of him and his herd, ‘twas certain to me that leaving them in our empty house full of nothing but ghosts and memories was a bad idea. So I decided to take them with me to the Loyalty, in hopes of giving them a tour and introducing them to my many sisters and few brothers in arms. I knew not if the Captain would allow them aboard, but mayhap she might for the sake of Firefly’s second.

Taking flight, we arrived within five minutes to find an even larger crowd present, all clamoring for news of the war or of relatives; it occurred to me then that as things stood, the Loyalty was in fact the only connection the city had at that point to the outside world and greater Equestria.

As I got closer, I realized Captain Typhoon was giving a speech from the foredeck of the Loyalty. He wasin the company of Captain Shady and Still Way as well as Flight Sergeant Aves Osprey, who I assumed was representing the Corps contingent as the ranking NCO.

Understandable, given Swift Strike was unavailable and Commander Firefly was most likely asleep after another late night, whilst Rolling Thunder was at City Hall commanding the overall defense of the city. The Captain did not mince words about the general war situation, imploring the assembled pegasi to enlist and assist the war effort once the city was safe.

He got a round of rousing cheers in response—pegasi warrior spirit had perchance dimmed over time, but had been reignited by the attack, I noted with great satisfaction; even Morning Glory seemed to listen intently to him whilst we waited to present ourselves to the ship. He also asked for patience with our hosts, reminding all present that the thestrals were in a very difficult bind with their eastern borders exposed and both sides presumably wooing them.

“They have sheltered and granted this great city sanctuary when they did not need to. Their ways may seem odd or alien, but never forget they are helping us at great potential risk to their race and nation. So insult not their tastes or appearance. They are ponies no less than we, and we will yet need them in this fight!” he told them to more muted applause, then his eyes fell on me.

“Master Sergeant Fell Flight!”he called out into his blue command gem, his voice booming. “Come forth!”

Regardless of his appointment as acting Corps Commander, I could hardly refuse a summons from the Captain of the Guard! “Wait here,” I instructed my sisters, then flew forth and landed on the foredeck before him. “Master Sergeant Fell Flight reporting as ordered, Captain!” I saluted as crisply as I could.

He returned the salute with equal crispness, then spoke into his blue command gem again. “Master Sergeant, you are the best qualities of both races rolled into one mighty being. You are symbolic of what our two nations can be if we unite against the gryphons as one—an unstoppable force of weather-wielders and night-fighters, equally effective in both darkness and day,” he told me fervently, and I sensed he wasn’t just making airs as behind him, a tired-looking Aegir Ale gave me a brief nod of greeting behind her opaque flight goggles.

I could understand her fatigue. ‘Twas no doubt she would normally be sleeping at this hour along with the rest of her brethren, but mayhap she decided that since we had stayed up late for them the previous night, she could do no less for us during the day. “We need them on our side. And thus, I will journey to the heart of their nation this very night to deliver Our Princess’ offer of alliance and friendship. And when I return, we will leave these lands whilst the Loyalty and Corps escorts the city to safety. For if you wish to strike back at the gryphons for this atrocity, there may yet be a way you can.”

I knew not what he meant by that, but the coy note in his voice told me there was already something planned.

Once his speech was over and he had returned inside, I turned to Captain Shady. “Ma’am—I respectfully request permission to bring my three sisters aboard the Loyalty for a tour.” I stood at attention and saluted.

She gave me a slightly cool look as she returned it. “You know we are not at liberty, Master Sergeant. This is a military airship facing further combat action. We must remain on alert at all times, and I cannot allow civilians aboard for pleasure tours during wartime in case we have to cast off quickly.”

I bowed my head in understanding. “I am aware, ma’am, but… I have just learned that I lost almost all my family in the weather factory attack.” My voice wavered for a moment, but long experience of instilled military bearing forced me to master my emotions quickly as the Captain instantly fell silent.

“My three surviving sisters have nothing but an empty house to return to, and though I cannot stay here with them as they so desperately desire, I can at least give them a reprieve from their fears and grief. I wish to give them a sorely needed distraction by showing them the ship and introducing them to my commander and comrades. With your permission, of course.” I saluted hard a second time.

Her expression softened considerably as she again returned the honor. “Perchance it could be argued the odds of an attack are quite low right now. But if I allow it for you, Master Sergeant, then I must allow it for the entire crew.”

Methinks I didn’t know what to say to that, for she was right—I was asking for very special treatment and to grant it would be grotesquely unfair to other Corps and Naval pegasi with family here. “I understand,” I told her. “Then I am sorry to have troubled you, Captain. I will return tomorrow morning when my leave is up.” I saluted again, intending to leave once the respect was returned.

“As you were, Master Sergeant. I didn’t say no,” she said as she did so, then summoned her second with a crystal hail. “The Navy will need new recruits as well, and it occurs to me that this could be a perfect opportunity to gain them,” she told me as the future Admiral appeared out the side hatch and saluted.

“Mister Tailwind—I want you to arrange tours of the ship for any crew who may wish to bring their families aboard. The terms are as follows: no more than ten ponies at a time, they are to be kept away from sensitive areas, tours may last no more than ninety minutes, and you will have plans to secure them quickly should the gryphons—or as seems unlikely now, the thestrals—threaten.”

He blinked in surprise but nodded. “Aye-aye, ma’am. But what are we defining as ‘sensitive areas’?

“In simple terms, keep them away from anything that could potentially go ‘boom’,” she said with a smirk, eliciting an amused smile from Tailwind and myself as well.

“So in other words, keep them out of main engineering and the armories, primarily. They may visit the bridge under close supervision, however, and any crew quarters and ready areas as long as the on-duty ponies allow it. Mayhap we will attempt to give this city a respite and distraction whilst the danger of direct attack seems low, and in the process attracts some new Naval recruits. And as she was first to request it, Master Sergeant Fell Flight’s family will be the first aboard.” She nodded to me, to which I bowed my head in gratitude.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, ma’am.”

“You are quite welcome. But know that whilst aboard, they are your responsibility, Master Sergeant. Do not leave them unescorted,” she reminded me.

“I will not, ma’am.” I saluted again, then visibly hesitated after I dropped it, causing her to raise an eyeridge. “But with apologies, I must ask you for an additional indulgence.”

“Oh?” Her eyeridge raised higher.

I might have heard a warning note in her voice, so I decided ‘twas best not to beat around the cloud. “I wish to see Lieutenant Thunderbolt privately.”

Even Tailwind looked shocked at my request, exchanging a glance with the Captain. “For what purpose?” the latter asked.

I took a deep breath before speaking again. In truth, I was not looking forward to the encounter with my emotions as roiled as they were, but ‘twas also certain to me that if I did not do so then, I might never have the chance again. “Hard as it may be to believe, he was my mentor, ma’am,” I told them to renewed looks of surprise.

“I have now heard of his deeds here; his supreme skill and heroism in repulsing the Imperial attack. It turns out he saved my sister, and thus, I owe him yet again. He told me that I would understand his actions once I knew the truth of what happened here. Mayhap ‘tis a forlorn hope, but perchance now that I do, I may now get through to him…”

At the time, it may well have been, old friend, but ‘twas certain as well that he was not unreachable. The who and how of saving him remained to be determined, however, and ‘tis certain I would never have acceded to what eventually worked but for what you shortly showed me.

—Firefly

You are welcome, Captain, and for what little it may be worth, I would never have either. But one thing both your son and my sister showed me was that sometimes, ‘twas the least likely of figures who accomplished the most in both war and peace.

Or in this case, to reach the unreachable by beating the unbeatable.

—Fell Flight

Brief Respite

EAS Loyalty
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
1550 hours

Captain Shady did not grant me permission immediately.

She decided ‘twas best to consult with Typhoon first, and only after he’d had another meeting with the bat-ponies, which he’d already left with a Corps escort to attend. In the meantime, I invited my sisters aboard and then throughout the ship, introducing them to all my friends and comrades, showing them some of the shipboard spaces and operations.

To the credit of both the Corps soldiers and the ship crew, they were received well, and I was gratified to see some genuine wonder on their faces as they beheld the more advanced machines and magicks the ship was equipped with. When they visited the bridge, they were greeted formally and quite warmly by Commander Tailwind, who conducted the tour personally.

For the next fifteen minutes, I stood back as he showed them each station and introduced them to each bridge crew member in turn. He delighted both Heat Wave and Wind Shift by giving them a chance to stand at the ship’s wheel as the pilot, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sora, taught them what each control did in turn; they couldn’t make the ship move but they could spin the wheel to manipulate the rudders and planes. My two youngest siblings also reacted with visible surprise when they saw the ship’s zebra mare communications officer, and later met Aegir Ale directly when she came on the bridge whilst we were there.

The former greeted them politely with a friendly voice and patient smile—one that told me she was well-used to such reactions—showing them how her communication crystals worked, whilst the latter seemed uncertain, noting in surprise that she did see a resemblance between me and my sisters. Perchance ‘twas only then she understood I’d been telling the truth and my family really was all pegasus.

“Your sister is a… remarkable mare,” she finally told the two young fillies staring in wonder at her, her eyes invisible and unreadable behind her goggles, which she explained were necessary for her to function in daylight.

She did remove them briefly so they could see her cat-eyed gaze fully, though I did wince in sympathy to see her watering eyes as her yellow pupils promptly narrowed to slits. “As it happens, I have two daughters of my own your age. I love them both, even when they are being… well, teenagers.” She arched an eyeridge at them, eliciting a wan smile from the pair and some chuckles from the rest of the bridge crew.

After getting them a late lunch from the galley—mayhap ‘twas the different surroundings and excellent food, but they ate far more eagerly than they had before—‘twas time to see if Commander Firefly was available. She was, and when my presence was announced by her sentries, she met me outside the guest room where Gavian was being kept under guard by trusted and now-battle-tested Naval soldiers.

To my surprise, she looked more haggard than ever as she exited, but still greeted my sisters with a warm smile, telling them that I was all that could possibly be asked for in a soldier and second.

“Fell Flight is a fine officer and warrior. So much so that I would never go into battle without her!” she told them both, putting a wing over my larger form. My sisters beamed at the compliment, initially awestruck though they were to meet the legendary Guardsmare, and extracted a promise from her that she would take care of me.

“Of course, but methinks ‘tis been more her who has taken care of me!” Firefly rejoined to my knowing grin, then asked to speak with me privately, leaving my sisters in the company of the outside sentries. I told them to stay put, and invited them to talk to said sentries. Corps soldiers would not do that whilst on guard duty, and I would have reprimanded them if they did. But perchance here, ‘twas best to let them socialize.

Methinks I guessed the reason she wished to talk to me almost instantly, and ‘twas confirmed as I stepped behind the door and beheld… “Gavian?”

Broken Spirit

He did not respond or look at me. His face was drawn as he huddled in the corner. His wings and tail were drooping, the leopard spots on his hindquarters appeared to have faded, and the very light seemed to have gone out of his normally brilliant green eyes. Even his grooming had been neglected as his feathers were un-preened, and he looked like he hadn’t slept for a week.

‘Twas certain I had never seen him so bedraggled; at least not since he was just a wretched prisoner of the EIS following a botched but very bloody raider attack on Outpost Epsilon not long after New Year’s. He was my friend; a being I saw perchance as something of a kindred spirit for being so different. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a momentary flicker of hatred as I saw him—a desire to hold him responsible for the Imperial attack on the city, punishing them by proxy through him.

I quashed it as hard and as angrily as I could, reminding myself forcefully that Gavian had nothing to do with the raid—that he had just as much reason to hate the Empire as we did, first for orphaning him and then treating his life and artistic talents as worthless.

“I don’t know what to do,” Firefly admitted to me in a whisper when Gavian did not respond despite my repeated entreaties, refusing even to look at me. “He won’t eat. He also won’t sleep, for when he tries, he wakes up screaming.”

“Because all I see is him…” Gavian finally spoke with a shiver as he recalled Thunderbolt’s attack. “And all I hear are the calls for my blood! Everypony hates me! Everypony blames me! And maybe they should! Maybe I should just offer myself up! Maybe I should die!” he proclaimed in an increasingly shrill voice.

“Gavian…” I could all but hear Firefly’s heart breaking. “You are not responsible for what happened here! I’ll tell everypony you fought for us! I’ll say that you swore an oath to us and upheld it!”

“And I say what does it matter? What does one good deed matter against the slaughter of many?” Gavian asked the universe at large.

“You are not responsible for any actions but your own, young gryphon.” The Plainclothes Security Division mare, Stiletto Sergeant Mammatus, spoke up from the adjacent corner. With Swift Strike down, she had taken his place as bodyguard again to watch over Gavian, though she still bore the stripes of a Private on her Corps uniform instead of her PSD rank. Her bearing cracked briefly as we turned to see her troubled expression; her wingblades sheathed but a borrowed belt of throwing blades and crystal pouches strapped to her tunic, courtesy of the Mare-at-Arms.

“I admit I had my doubts when I was assigned to watch you, as did so many others. My instructions were to both secretly guard you and determine if you were somehow a spy. My eventual report was that you were not—that you were simply an abandoned young gryphon with an artistic flair who was now happy and flourishing under our care.

“‘Twas not easy or instant for me or anypony else, but the Outpost did come around to you once they got past the idea that all gryphons were evil and irredeemable. You showed us ‘twas simply not true—that honor and friendship did exist in gryphons. ‘Twas an impressive feat, and one you can yet repeat. ‘Twill not be easy or instant here any more than ‘twas for Epsilon, especially not so soon after the attack. But it can be done.”

Gavian sniffled hard as Firefly and myself gave the normally silent PSD mare a grateful look. “Th-thank you, ma’am. But I fear you are wrong. For why would anypony want to accept a member of a race responsible for slaying so many of their own?”

This time, I stepped up. “Gavian, listen to me—’tis certain I lost countless friends and comrades to raiders in my time at Omega, but still I accepted you. So if you think it cannot be done, know that had such a thing been suggested to me before I met you, ‘tis certain I would have scoffed at the very notion. Doubly so now—know also that I lost most of my family in the attack on the weather factory and have as much reason to hate gryphons as anypony. Perchance even more,” I told him through a clenched jaw and a shocked, then pitying look from Firefly and the PSD mare as I raised my eyes to his haunted ones.

His beak worked as if he was struggling to find words to express his sorrow for me. I did not give him the chance, holding up my hoof to indicate I wasn’t finished. “And yet, I do not hate you or blame you. And yet, here I stand—still your friend,” I told him fervently, already starting to rehearse in my head the speech I would be giving Thunderbolt. “I will gladly fight and slay Imperial soldiers in this war. But I will never turn on you or treat all gryphons as mortal enemies. For you have shown me that they are not.”

‘Twas odd, looking back. By rights, I should have still been grieving with my sisters, but in my mind, the moment of grief had already passed. Mayhap ‘twas simply the fact that I’d been a soldier long enough that I could quickly let death go, as ‘twas necessary in battle. Mayhap was that sorrow and grief had never gained more than fleeting hold on me in the past, even going back to my foalhood. Or mayhap ‘twas that I knew I could not mourn long; not when there was a war to fight and win.

Regardless, in my mind, the time for tears was over. I had cried, and I had mourned my slain family with my sisters. I had visited the site of the battle and paid my respects to them, vowing not to avenge them, but ensure they were remembered and did not fall in vain.

‘Tis worth noting there is a definite difference between the two to me, as the former is ultimately a selfish motive designed to sate one’s own dark desires, whilst the latter is to carry on the work of the fallen and impart meaning to their deaths.

My earlier talk with Sky Sentry flashed through my mind, and I realized then that my advice to him applied to me as well—that to move on and not lose myself in vengeance or despair, I had to decide what meaning I wished the deaths of my parents and herdmates to have, and then how best to give it.

For me, the answer was easy. I was a soldier, and I would fight out of love for my friends and family, and not hate for our enemies. I would fight to make sure my herd’s line and legacy remained, and see the weather work they so loved reestablished, thus denying the gryphons their victory, both at Cloudsdale and in the greater war.

None of which helped at all when dealing with the gryphon before me, whose wounds, like my sisters, went far beyond the merely physical. He was like Morning Glory in so many ways, I thought as I studied him then; eager to please with not a mean bone in his body; I had the thought then that had they met before the war, he and Glory would likely have become fast friends.

‘Twas then an idea occurred to me. I tried to summarily dismiss it at first—‘twas surely not the time; the wounds were just too fresh! But ‘twas an insistent notion, and the more I thought about it, the more I thought it might help. So excusing myself, I slipped outside again and, sending my two youngest sisters back to the galley with a guard for some excellent shipboard pastries, I pulled Morning Glory aside.

“Glory? There’s a very special someone inside I’d like you to meet,” I began carefully as I watched Heat Wave and Wind Shift depart. I admit I briefly considered inviting them in as well, but quickly decided against it—the visit had succeeded in improving their mood and I did not wish to upset that; ‘twas also certain to me that being younger, they would be much more likely to react badly to the suggestion. Heat Wave particularly, given she shared my hot temper.

“His name is Gavian. He fought for us at Epsilon, saving the garrison not once, but twice. As he is my friend, I would like to introduce you to him.” I took the plunge.

Morning Glory: Heart of Courage

“Gavian?” Morning Glory repeated, but then her eyes went wide. “Wait—you mean Gavian Ravenoff? The gryphon you told us about? The one you said Firefly adopted?” she recalled, her eyes going equal parts shocked and fearful.

I closed my eyes and opened them again, praying I was not making a grave mistake. “Yes. And I want you to meet him. Methinks it might do you both some good.”

“I don’t know that I want to!” Morning told me, her eyes darting nervously again. “You said before he’d become your friend, but I just fought gryphons! And I’m afraid that if I see him…” She shivered, her battle trauma suddenly coming flooding back as her ears went flat and wings twitched anxiously.

‘Twas another reaction I had seen from fresh combat veterans, and thus I knew well how to deal with it. “Then face your fears and see that they are false. I will not force you to do this, but I would like you to. It may do you good—and him as well—to see that there is a gryphon who is not our enemy. That they do not have to be our enemy.”

She swallowed hard, her violet eyes shifting from mine to the door and back. “And wh-why do you think it would do him any good?” she asked, though ‘twas uncertain to me whether she was curious or just trying to stall.

“Because he was attacked upon his arrival here by Thunderbolt,” I told her to a shocked look, unable to quite keep the anger from my voice. “There were calls for his blood from the pegasi we met upon arrival, and when Thunderbolt saw him, he sought to slay him. ‘Tis certain he would have done so were it not for the Captain of the Guard,” I explained shortly, causing her eyes to go wide once more.

“And now, he believes he is hated by all outside of that room. Worse, he blames himself for what happened here, even though he had naught to do with it! I wish to show him that neither is true. And I believe that you can help him see it!”

“Me? Then… you w-want me to befriend him?” She took an involuntary step back from me and the door.

“What I want is for you to face your fears—and help him face his. I want you to try and see him for what he truly is,” I explained patiently, and in hindsight, methinks the only pony I could ever be so gentle and patient with back then was my sister. “I want you to meet him, and only then decide if he is truly at fault or worth hating.”

She swallowed visibly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she tried to find some way to resolve my request internally. I know not what was going through her mind just then, but finally, she slumped slightly in defeat. “Very well, sister. If you wish me to, I will try, but… methinks I can make no promises.”

“‘Tis all I ask. Thank you, Glory,” I told her, and then asked her to wait outside whilst I readied the scene. Firefly was surprised and doubtful at my suggestion, but at my reassurance relented whilst the PSD mare promised she would not intervene—unless she determined my sister represented an imminent threat to Gavian’s life. Gavian himself was fearful of the prospective meeting with a pony he didn’t know, even if she was my sister, but agreed to it “if I thought it would help her.”

“Very well, then. Wait here,” I instructed as I exited, returning with Morning Glory a minute later. Despite being told what to expect, she flinched hard when she saw him, and Gavian flinched as well to see the rapidly shifting emotions in her eyes. I even saw Glory’s muscles tense like she was preparing for battle again, causing the PSD mare to shift fractionally towards her, so I stilled her with a wing draped over her back.

“It’s all right…” I promised them both, keeping partly between them. “We are all friends here. Gavian? This is my sister—Morning Glory. Glory? This is Gavian. Our ally. Commander Firefly’s son. A fine warrior. And a good friend.” I chose my words as much for Gavian’s benefit as hers.

Gavian greeted her with far less confidence than he would have previously, his body posture low. “H-hello…” he offered tentatively, baring his throat to her briefly. “I am Gavian… ‘tis g-good to meet you.”

Morning Glory did not immediately reply. She stared at him for the better part of a minute before speaking, studying his features carefully. “I fought gryphons at the weather factory. Ravens took our parents and nearly took me,” she finally told him in a very quiet voice, causing Gavian’s eyes to tear up again and leaving me wondering if this had truly been a good idea.

Methinks Firefly was having the same thoughts, as she looked ready to pull Glory back, fearful that she was about to deliver the final blow to Gavian’s fragile psyche.

“Please don’t hate me…” he all but begged my sister as he bared his throat hard and tears began to roll down his face. “I didn’t want this… didn’t want any of this! I’m sorry… so sorry… I would bring everypony back if I could!” he swore before breaking down completely, and as he spoke, I realized that on some level, he truly did blame himself for all this just for being a gryphon.

“Hate you…?” Morning Glory studied him for a moment more. But then she slowly approached Gavian under the wary gaze of both Firefly and the PSD mare. The latter watched closely but did not interfere—she later told us that her training and long experience meant she could tell the difference between a pony who was planning to attack and one who was not, even able to pick them out of crowds—whilst the former I gave a quick shake of my head when she looked ready to leap forward.

For I had seen this behavior from my sister once before. ‘Twas when she had confronted a colt who I had caught bullying her when she was but a young teen, and whose face I had subsequently slammed into a wall. She had then disarmed him by visiting him in the infirmary afterwards, when he’d been healing from the cracked jaw and several broken teeth I’d given him. To my then-amazement, she told her hurting and very vulnerable tormentor that she forgave him and would be his friend, reducing him to tears.

Such it would be here as well, I sensed then. “I know I could hate you, Gavian Ravenoff. It would be so easy to hate you. But I won’t. Because it’s too easy. Because the parents I love raised me better than that. Because I know you aren’t responsible for this. And because I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to hate anypony,” Glory told him with a breaking voice as Gavian looked up in desperate hope.

“Fell Flight told us about you once, Gavian. She said you had a tragic past, but you defected and helped us. That you were a good and loyal friend. That you were accepted by both the Princess and the garrison—that you swore an oath of allegiance to all Equestria!” she recounted.

“I d-did…” Gavian bared his throat hard again. “And even if it requires me to die as penance for the crimes of my race, then to it I hold!”

“It doesn’t,” Glory replied with a sharp shake of her head as I mentally urged her on; even Firefly looked suddenly hopeful at the turn the talk had taken. The emotions in my sister’s eyes and expression seemed to slowly settle on a mixture of relief and compassion; I can only guess that the former was because she realized she was not consumed by hate or thoughts of killing him, whilst the latter…

Well. The latter was simply who she was as a pony. “She said you fought for us. That you helped save her and everypony else at Epsilon not once, but twice. She even said once you were everything a gryphon should be—powerful, loyal and honorable. I admire my sister more than anypony else. So if she says all that…”

Moving Forward [by Q-Factory]

Before any of us could stop her or even realize what she was doing, she swept Gavian into an embrace. He stiffened hard and took a shuddering breath; the only parallel I could think whilst watching was when Firefly hugged him and offered him friendship, not long after his capture so many months earlier.

“I don’t hate you, Gavian Ravenoff,” she told him fervently to audible relief from Firefly in a form of a sudden exhale of breath. “You are not to blame for what the Empire did to my city or family. If you’re my sister’s friend, you’re my friend as well. And as her friend, I will gladly welcome you into my heart and home,” she said, causing Gavian to break down completely in a fresh series of squawking sobs as he accepted and returned her embrace.

As I watched them, exchanging a smile with Commander Firefly and the PSD mare, who was nodding slowly as Glory spoke, I remember having the thought that Morning Glory was far too kind to fight or kill. And knowing that she had, I hated the Empire even more for forcing her into it at the point of a Raven blade.

“I’m so s-sorry…” Gavian told her again as he carefully clutched her with his talons.

“I know. Shhh…” Glory soothed and comforted him like our lost mothers.

In the end, she stayed with Gavian, holding and singing to him softly until he cried himself to sleep. By the time he had, her eyes had cleared and she looked much better, perchance making peace with herself and all that had happened as she better understood how it had changed her.

And more importantly, how it had not.

In the end, my improvised plan had worked—Glory learned that despite what happened, she remained the kind and compassionate pony she’d always been at heart, whilst Gavian learned that he was wrong—that there were outside ponies who wouldn’t hate him or blame him for what happened to Cloudsdale.

Through her acceptance and forgiveness, he was finally able to rest as his spirit began to revive, though ‘twas only part of what he needed to do so. The second part, ‘twas certain, would be far more difficult and dangerous, even if I knew not yet what it was.

Thus had one potentially unpleasant meeting ended well. But the second I had planned was far less likely to do so. After seeing my sisters off the ship—who had enjoyed their visit with just some minor and perchance requisite whining about not getting to fire the cannons—I took them to visit their favorite confectionery. It remained defiantly open in the aftermath of the attack, and from there I treated them to all their favorite sweets, regaling them with more stories whilst awaiting a second summons once Captain Typhoon returned.

It arrived not long after 2000 hours, and ‘twas relayed to me by Firefly herself, who told me that before he acceded to my request, the Captain wished to discuss the question of Thunderbolt with me directly.

Thank you, my dear sister, for writing this so I didn’t have to. I have reviewed it as you requested, and I compliment you for conveying quite effectively all that happened that day.

There is little I would add except to say you were correct—‘twas certain that my inner peace was gained by finding that I didn’t hate him. For if I had, ‘twould have meant I was irrevocably altered and was now nothing more than a soldier and killer. That I could no longer see the good in all.

—Sky Sergeant Morning Glory
Head of Storm Cloud Production
Cloudsdale Weather Factory
Cloudsdale

You are most welcome, my dear Glory. That you could do so has always been your greatest virtue, and ‘twas also to my great relief that this unplanned meeting worked so well.

‘Tis worth noting that what I said holds, too—that you were far too kind and generous to be a warrior, and yet, be one you would, even despite my wishes. Not because you wanted to fight or kill, but because you always put others before yourself and your own needs.

Because in your mind, the needs of others always outweigh yours. You did what you thought all Equestria required, and in my mind, that makes you the embodiment of no less than three Elements of Harmony—Loyalty, Kindness, and Generosity.

—Fell Flight

On behalf of myself and Gavian, thank you, Morning Glory. And thank you, First Lieutenant, for your many actions to help a badly hurting Gavian that day. Your sister was the perfect pony for the task, as despite my initial consternation—and I daresay hers—she got through to him when neither we nor anypony else could.

As we close this section, I wish readers to know that another difficult chapter for me lies ahead. But perchance its telling will be eased by a surprise new addition to our writing team.

I have been contacted by Swift Strike, and ‘twould seem an initially declined offer of penning part of this tale from the Imperial side has now, upon reflection of the eagless in question, been accepted. And thus, a very unique and mayhap controversial perspective on the events to come will shortly be offered.

—Firefly

Author's Note

It was time for a tearjerker chapter, folks, and this one was pretty well unavoidable due to having to address the fate of Fell Flight's family. :raritycry: I struggled with the chapter and what I wanted to happen later until I realized that there were several gates I had to pass through first, or it wouldn't work. And first among them was to have Fell Flight learn and deal with what happened to her herd, as well as show what Thunderbolt's attack had done to Gavian.

As for what's going to happen, the chapter hinted at it in a couple ways, but suffice it to say, another major denouement is now fast approaching—one that will be necessary for not one, but two major characters to move forward, and it will be told through a surprise perspective.

Thanks as always to AJ_Aficionado for his copious comments and recommendations, Silentwoodfire for his own pass on the chapter, and I'd like to welcome back prereader Denim_Blue after a long absence as well, as another 400 or so words were added from his comments and suggestions. Enjoy, and know that another epic chapter lies directly ahead.

Rally and Recover: 11 - Difficult Decisions

Greetings again to all readers from the thestral enclave of Canterlot, where I fear I have spent far too little time of late. ‘Tis Fell Flight writing again, and I have returned home for the first time in a month after sifting through the Owl archives regarding Omega, and then working with the Society of Omega Survivors to bring proper honor to our lost outpost and comrades.

‘Tis time now to rectify that by spending some quality time with my herd and foals; including and mayhap most especially my dear stallion Oberon. He is a fine bat whom I would not meet until much later in the war; a scarred but battle-tested Nightborne soldier who won my heart with such sterling strength and courage—to say nothing of his skill at slaying and cooking meat!—in the course of the conflict’s final few months.

Perchance the old saying is true, and the way to a mare’s heart is through her stomach? Especially when she’s had precious little but pony rations for months on end.

As much as I may wish to recount that story, it lies too far in the future, and a much more immediate and oft-unpleasant one remains to be told. But before we put that to paper, there is something else I wish to say.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight [ret.]
Thestral High Emissary
Thestral Enclave
Canterlot

My sister, Morning Glory, says she learned many things from me—courage and duty foremost among them. To which I say she gives me too much credit—I say she had them all along, perchance inherited from our beloved and sorely-missed sire, along with a great spirit of kindness and generosity I fear I completely lack.

But there is one thing I was unquestionably taught by her, and ‘twould be needed here on the fourth evening of war. I mentioned it in the last chapter, but methinks ‘tis best repeated now:

That sometimes the answers to difficult dilemmas or even life-and-death situations come from the unlikeliest of sources.

That sometimes, the absolute last individual you wouldst have selected for a task is in fact the key to solving a seemingly intractable problem, saving both themselves and another you hold dear in the process. Such it would be here.

Despite that, know that what we are about to describe ‘twas, even upon reflection, utter insanity. And for it, I cannot even begin to fathom the courage it took for the individual in question to go through with it, given the likely outcomes.

Or the agony his mother suffered watching him do it.

Teachers and Mentors
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - An Old Friend]

EAS Loyalty
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
2105 hours

Leaving my sisters yet again with the promise of returning to spend the night, I obeyed Captain Typhoon’s summons and arrived back at the Loyalty within five minutes.

After presenting myself to the sentries posted at the side entrance where the gangplank to the cloud surface lay—a purely symbolic act given almost everypony present was a pegasus and could just fly in—I was directed to report to the Captain’s Stateroom, which had been taken over by Captain Typhoon at Captain Shady’s insistence.

Arriving before it, I took a deep breath before rapping my hoof hard on its surface. I did not know how Captain Typhoon would take my request, and whether I more hoped he would grant or deny it. For ‘tis certain even a reprimand for putting my personal interests above the potential safety of the crew and Gavian might have been cause for less anxiety than the thought of facing Thunderbolt again, knowing what I then did.

“Come,” the Captain of the Guard invited in his usual deep voice, and as I entered and stood to attention—we had quickly learned that, somewhat oddly, the Royal Navy did not salute indoors—I was surprised to see Blindside there as well.

Her one-eyed gaze locked with mine and she gave me a quick nod before turning her attention back to the Captain. She had still not obtained a new eyepatch after leaving her original one in the chest we stuffed with personal effects in the vault at Epsilon, and for as much as my cat-eyed gaze caused flinches in others, I couldn’t quite stifle my own at seeing her milky orb of a nonworking eye.

I couldn’t help but marvel again at the disability she’d overcome, and instantly recalled who she told me was responsible for her doing so. That being the case, was she then present for the same reason I was…?

“At ease,” the Captain of the Guard’s invitation broke into my thoughts, to which I relaxed only fractionally as he sat back behind the Captain’s desk and pursed his hooves before us, a steaming mug of tea in front of him.

“Captain Shady has informed me that you wish to speak to Thunderbolt privately, Master Sergeant. ‘Twould seem you are not the only one.” He nodded to Blindside, whose expression was impassive. I wondered if she’d been able to contact her mother in Cloudsdale, who she had said owned a tea shop and should have been safely away from the battle. “Sergeant Blindside wishes to see him too. I have waited until you both are present before posing the obvious question: why?”

“Because I owe him, sir,” Blindside replied first; ‘tis worth noting that her blade wounds were still visible but healing. According to fitness reports I’d received the previous night, she would be able to fly again in two days, and perchance be battleworthy again within five. “First to fly, and then to fight.”

“Do explain.”

“As you can clearly see, I have a rather unusual… incapacity,” she motioned up with a wing to her nonworking eye. “To make a long story short, Thunderbolt taught me to fly in spite of it. He enabled me to overcome my lack of depth perception by helping me develop my rather unique awareness, perchance by imparting a little of his own.”

She paused before proceeding, letting the Captain absorb her words. “‘Tis not just me, either—he helped countless young ponies over the years by teaching them faithfully and patiently over at the Remedial Flyers’ School. ‘Tis that Thunderbolt that I remember and revere. ‘Tis certain I cannot countenance his attack on Gavian, but whatever he has become now, I refuse to believe he is lost!”

“He helped me as well, sir.” I perchance spoke out of turn by addressing the Captain before being invited to, and thus I stood back to rigid attention. “‘Tis certain I would not be here before you now, if not for him. I would neither have been able to enter the Corps, nor survive the battles I did.”

Fortunately, the Captain did not take offense. If I’d learned nothing else about him by then, ‘twas that he was very even-keeled, to use the nautical term, possessing a dry wit and very little temper. He was not obscenely serene as I found Still Way so infuriatingly to be, but his emotions and actions were always quite measured; ‘twas rare he even raised his voice.

“Yes, I know some of your stories—and his,” he considered my words carefully. “I was actually present at your decoration ceremony, Master Sergeant, standing at the head of the Royal Guard contingent when you received your Sergeant stripes and the Sapphire Sentinel medal. I was but a First Lieutenant then, in command of the Canterlot garrison. Thunderbolt gave a strong speech and it seemed he had great affection for you.”

“He did, sir!” I nodded sharply. “Please understand—he stuck with me even when everypony else had given up on me! ’Tis certain I was but a belligerent young filly who hated everything and made life miserable for everypony around me before he set me straight.” I suppressed a grimace at the memory of that day in his office ten years earlier, when I had mouthed off to him, telling him he did not know pain.

His very frightening explosion put my own issues into sharp perspective as he collared me, dragged me over to a picture of his lost comrades and explained in no uncertain terms just how wrong I was—for how could unusual eyes and the taunts of other colts and fillies over them compare to the loss of all your friends and comrades, slain before your eyes? “He took me under his wing, sir. Sponsored me, trained me, and got me the operation that gave me day vision in the face of… a certain reluctance.” I glanced over at Blindside briefly.

“By which you mean the intransigence of General Squall Line.” He arched an eye ridge at me, and my lips tightened at the General’s mention. “Another fine officer who forgot himself, overcome by some of the same demons that Thunderbolt bears. Another casualty of the IS-2 incident, perchance joined at the hip with Thunderbolt by it,” he mused mostly to himself, leaving me and Blindside no idea of what he spoke.

“Yes, sir,” I answered neutrally, biting off a fresh wave of anger rising within me at my remembered treatment at the wings of the then-Corps Commander. “But regardless, I owe him. And I know him, sir. Whatever he has become and whatever creature he was last night, ‘tis not the Thunderbolt I knew. ‘Tis that Thunderbolt I hope to restore by speaking to him!”

“As do I,” Blindside concurred, standing at attention beside me. “Sir, please, if we could just talk to him…” She trailed off as he shook his head reproachfully.

“With respect, I understand you already did, Master Sergeant,” The Captain pointed out. “Right after the battle, according to Firefly herself. She witnessed your encounter with Thunderbolt and says he showed no remorse at all. So I fail to see why you believe another talk would do any good. Or why I should risk granting your request.”

“Because, sir, he also said I would understand shortly why he attacked Gavian and thank him for it once I knew…” I turned my gaze downward, my lip tight. “… by which he meant the slaughter of civilians at the Weather Factory, including my own family!” I hissed out the words as Blindside gave me a shocked look, whilst the Captain’s stern expression softened.

Not wanting to dwell on my losses again, I quickly charged ahead. “He was right, and yet he is wrong—I do understand his anger and inner rage now, for I now share it! But methinks I do not share his desire to slaughter all gryphons or Gavian in their stead!”

“And methinks I am glad to hear it,” Captain Typhoon replied, his voice subdued. “I mourn your family, as I do all Cloudsdale dead—‘tis certain I have my own lost relations here, as do many aboard this ship.” He sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment before raising them back to mine. ‘Twas a rare pony indeed who I felt compelled to avert my gaze from, but the Captain was such a pegasus. “I now understand why you wish to reach him. But ‘tis still unclear to me why you think you can.”

I knew not how, but I realized then that Thunderbolt’s fate hinged on my next words. “He believes that all who share in such experiences must turn out like him. I am proof he is wrong,” I told him. “I plan to remind him of some words of wisdom once shared with me:

“So heed these words and heed them well, Fell Flight. If you enter the Corps, there will come a time when you will see your friends and fellow ponies fall before you, and your heart will scream for vengeance,” I quoted, the words seared into my memory long before.

“At all costs, resist it. Kill in combat; kill in defense of Equestria and other ponies if you must. But never kill for sport or pleasure. Never give into revenge or bloodlust. ’Tis a very dark sky to fly, and ’tis one even your eyes will lose sight in,” I recalled as Blindside nodded slowly at my statement.

I bowed my head when I was finished, noting the Captain seemed intrigued. “I approve wholeheartedly of such sentiments. But why do you think Thunderbolt would listen to them?”

I couldn’t quite suppress a smile. “Because those words came from Thunderbolt himself, sir. He told them to me right before I enlisted.”

Methinks the surprise on the Captain’s face was something to behold. “I see…” he said as Blindside gave me an approving and grateful nod, then he got up to look out the balcony door.

“I admit I am impressed. I did not think he had that in him. Nevertheless, I do not share your optimism that you can reach him. Some would say that the Thunderbolt imprisoned in the brig is the real one, and the one you saw as fillies was but a mask he donned, ready to be ripped off at the first opportunity,” he suggested as he turned back to us.

Seeing we were both about to object, he raised a wing to indicate he wasn’t done yet, in a gesture he’d apparently already picked up from the bat-ponies. “You saw him last night, Master Sergeant. ‘Twould seem that even the sight of a gryphon provokes his rage and bloodlust, and causes him to lash out automatically regardless of orders or honor.”

“Not true, sir,” I answered instantly. “Perchance you were unaware, but Thunderbolt did encounter Gavian once before, when Commander Firefly was taking him on a tour of greater Equestria earlier in the summer. I heard from Swift Strike that they visited Cloudsdale and Thunderbolt met Gavian then. Even standing six feet away, he did not attack him. From what the Sky Sergeant said, he was friendly. He even spoke to Gavian in Aeric, complimenting him on his Equish and sword skill.”

At this, the Captain’s eyes widened further as he gave me an incredulous look. “Truly?”

“Truly,” I confirmed, exchanging a knowing smile with Blindside. “And having now heard directly from my surviving sister of his deeds here, ‘tis certain to me that we need him in this fight. But only if he can restrain his worst impulses. For I do not relish the idea of fighting alongside a wingpony who cares naught for orders or tactics, but seeks only to slay every gryphon he sees. Such an ally is no true ally at all and far more likely to get us all killed then carry out an operation successfully.”

“I agree. Unfortunately, that may not be possible,” The Captain replied, but the note of uncertainty in his voice told me I’d shaken his confidence. “I admit I am surprised to hear these stories, and they do give me pause. But even so, I simply do not share your optimism. Because you see, I have already spoken to Thunderbolt myself. And believe me when I say ‘twas not a pleasant meeting.”

Once again, I tried to choose my words carefully, but this time, Blindside beat me to it. “With respect, sir, he doesn’t know you. He knows us,” she told him. “We are two ponies who rank amongst his greatest achievements as a teacher and trainer. Given that, surely he might listen to us?” she said with another glance at me, earning a rapid nod.

He considered that, only to shake his head. “Methinks you both presume too much on your past experiences with him,” he told us. “What you do not have is experience with the demon he now is. A demon he appears to have willingly surrendered himself to.” He shook his head in disgust as a grimace crossed his lips.

“I cannot believe that, sir!” I stood to attention again.

“No? Then please wait.” He summoned one of his aides—a civilian unicorn mare named Total Recall who looked far too young for the work. She arrived but a minute later, almost furtively peeking her head in.

“Do you require my services, sir?” she asked, though she seemed strangely anxious and uncomfortable to my eyes.

He nodded gravely. “I do indeed. With my greatest apologies, I require the use of your special talent. I ask that you please replay and project your memories of my meeting with Thunderbolt earlier this afternoon.”

To my surprise, she whimpered and went visibly weak in the knees at his request. “S-sir, I—” she stilled only when Typhoon laid a hoof on her chest.

“I know. And methinks I would not ask this of you, but ‘tis important that these two see what happened directly. For Thunderbolt was their mentor, and they must now see what has become of him.”

She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

He then turned to us. “Witness the events of our meeting, and then tell me if you still think you can reach him.”

Lost Soul
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier - Winter Soldier theme]

Brig
EAS Loyalty
September 4th, 1139 AC
1435 hours

Methinks I wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘witness’ until the unicorn mare took a deep breath, closed her eyes and ignited her horn, projecting an image into the air.

It only took me a few seconds to realize what she was doing—projecting her own memories before us, and hence, we were seeing and hearing things through her eyes and ears as she followed the Captain down the rather sharply angled stairs to the brig. She stumbled more than once, as had I when I initially encountered them; methinks I must admit that those stairs had given me some issues at first for the very particular gait they required.

Within seconds, they reached their destination in her projection, with Captain Typhoon confronting Thunderbolt in the ship’s most secure cell. Judging by the scroll paper floating in front of her and the pen poised before it, Total Recall was there to take the minutes of their meeting.

“Captain Typhoon,” Thunderbolt acknowledged with a half-meant salute, paying Total Recall no mind. “So tell me, are you here to free me, or to slay me?”

“That depends,” Typhoon answered honestly but ominously as he returned the gesture. “Do you regret your attack on Gavian Ravenoff?”

“Would there be any point in me lying?” Thunderbolt asked sullenly.

“None,” Captain Typhoon replied. “Having been around far too many fawning and sycophantic nobles, methinks I can spot insincerity from a mile away.”

“Then I do not,” Thunderbolt said simply, turning away from the Captain, causing my jaw to clench as he then repeated the same words he’d already said to me: “Once you know what happened here, ‘tis certain you will thank me.”

Typhoon’s eyes narrowed. “I do know, Lieutenant. I have read the reports of Rolling Thunder and the surviving Militia troops. ‘Tis certain your actions were as heroic as they were horrific, but ‘tis not at issue here. What is at issue is your unprovoked attack on Gavian Ravenoff, who was no threat to anypony, and most certainly not to you. He had nothing to do with the Imperial operation against this city, and thus, your attack on him was nothing less than attempted murder.”

“Call it what you will,” Thunderbolt replied, his eyes equal parts angry and resigned as he got up from his bed. “He is a gryphon, and thus, automatically an enemy of all Equestria. If we are to live, then all gryphons must die.” His words were spoken so casually, it seemed as though he was stating mere fact.

Total Recall must have flinched slightly just then, given her field of view suddenly jerked to one side. “Even those who honorably ally with us? Even those who swear allegiance to us?” The Captain challenged.

Thunderbolt gave a derisive snort. “Methinks I got a bellyful of gryphon honor at the Inland Shores massacre.” His eyes glittered angrily. “The broken promises of a raider mistress and the bloodlust of her followers led to that day… as well as an idiot of a future Corps Commander!” he claimed bitterly, and there I agreed wholeheartedly with him, at least on the idiot part—he was speaking of General Squall Line, his former Commander at Outpost Beta and later the Commanding General of the entire Equestrian Aerial Corps when I’d first attempted to join the service.

He’d hated me on sight for my thestral lineage and done everything in his power to make me quit after Thunderbolt had blackmailed him into accepting me, finally running afoul of The Princess when his orders to harass me resulted in a murder attempt.

It had cost him his career when I overcame it by thwarting an abduction-for-ransom plot of the Indala raider group, killing their leader and rescuing fifteen ponies in the process, but because of it, ‘twas certain he was my least favorite figure in the Corps—perchance second only to Flight Sergeant Stuka, who was the pony who tried to kill me.

But thoughts of my former tormentors were lost as Thunderbolt continued his tirade. “And you think I haven’t heard about what happened in Canterlot? They coltnapped civilians, defiled them with vile mind control magic and set them against us, killing scores of commanders and civilian officials in the process—you even said you had to slay two of your own aides!” he reminded Typhoon, eliciting a choked sob from Total Recall, who I can only guess knew the aides in question.

“Are you quite through?” Typhoon asked in an annoyed tone, even as he gave her a concerned glance.

“Not even close. They are not honorable warriors but savages! Selfish brutes motivated by meat or money who see us as nothing more than prey! They’ve made clear their intentions for us; methinks they won’t be satisfied until we’re enslaved to their evil empire if not outright eradicated from this world!” His eyes flashed and wings flared in anger as he spoke, but then he turned sullen again.

“If I’ve learned nothing else from watching their conduct in war—from seeing the fate of that colony; the fate of my friends and promised mares who were so brutally slaughtered there—‘tis that gryphons can never be trusted! Methinks even Squall Line finally learned that!”

I knew not if Typhoon was aware of Thunderbolt’s history with Squall Line, but his eyes did narrow. “Squall Line is not the issue here, Lieutenant. At issue is whether you can be trusted to carry out orders and not slay friendly gryphons on sight.”

“As I am neither part of the military nor recognize such an outlandish idea as a friendly gryphon, your question is illogical and irrelevant, Captain,” he said derisively. “I will fight this war as I see fit, with or without your permission! If you wish to use me in this conflict, just point me at the enemy and get everypony out of my way. I swear before the Sun and Moon that any gryphon I see, I will slay. Even Gavian Ravenoff.”

“Without my permission?” the Captain repeated in equal derision. “Perchance you have forgotten that you do not leave this cell or have your lightning affinity restored without me, Lieutenant. In fact, you do not live without my say-so. I told you before that the moment I decided you were a greater threat than the gryphons was the moment of your death. I regret I am not hearing anything from you that would convince me differently.”

“Then kill me, Captain!” Thunderbolt challenged with a smirk, going right up to the bars to look Typhoon in the eye through them. “For I will not renounce my bloodlust or my hatred for gryphons! Not when ‘tis what gives me the power to slay them!”

The Captain’s expression turned to one of sheer disgust. “No soldier should ever be motivated by hatred, Lieutenant. We fight to protect and preserve, not become what we fight against!”

“Such utter naivety. But so be it. Believe what you wish, Captain. And slay me if you must. As things stand, I can’t stop you. Just know that if you do, you eliminate one of your greatest weapons in this war, and perchance doom Equestria to defeat! From Talons to Talaeus, ‘tis certain that no gryphon can defeat me! For none can match the power of my hate.”

“You think that your hate gives you power? Or the right to slay any being you choose?” Methinks the disgust in Typhoon’s voice was growing, and methinks also that Total Recall was starting to shake and tear up from what she was hearing, as she continued to record the minutes but the edges of her vision were blurring and her writing became steadily more ragged.

“I choose to kill the enemies of Equestria, Captain. Enemies who declared war on us, launching an unprovoked attack and bloody raid against peaceful civilians—just like the Lucavi did! So if you are saying the Imperial Military is somehow more reasonable or rational than the raider groups, then save it.”

“I am saying nothing of the sort. But there is still a flaw in your thinking. Methinks you are conflating all gryphons with the Empire, Lieutenant. ‘Tis simply not true, as this gryphon swore an oath of allegiance to Equestria. Methinks he has as much reason to hate the Empire as we do!”

“And methinks I care not!” Thunderbolt stomped his hoof down hard, causing Total Recall to take an involuntary step back. ‘Twas then that Thunderbolt finally noticed her. “Don’t like what you’re hearing, Miss? The truth is sometimes painful,” he told her.

“But the truth is that I am needed. That for the first time in the twelve years since that horrible day at the IS-2 settlement, I understand and accept what happened to me as necessary! For it honed me into the perfect weapon of war against our enemies—an unstoppable and pitiless force of nature acting in defense of you and all ponies!” he told her. “You don’t have to like me or my methods. But know that everything I do, I do for all of us.”

Her pen and scroll paper fell to the floor from her disrupted aura, and she began looking around, like she was searching for somewhere to flee.

“‘Tis odd, but ‘twould seem she looks less than happy about that,” Typhoon pointed out dryly, stepping to her side and putting a reassuring wing over her back. “You are saying you will kill all gryphons for her—whether soldier, civilian or cub? Whether she wants you to or not?”

“Whether she wants it or not, I am saying that I recognize no innocent or non-combatant gryphons—and neither should you, Captain! It should be apparent that we can’t stop with driving them from our lands or they will simply return again later with an even larger force! We must invade theirs and end them, or they will eventually end us!”

Typhoon lowered his head. “Then ‘tis total genocide you advocate, and I cannot think of anything less aligned with Friendship or Harmony than that!”

“Friendship? Harmony?” Thunderbolt laughed bitterly. “I stopped believing in those ridiculous notions long ago! Friendship did not spare my mares or the village I guarded! Harmony did not stop the gryphons from invading and slaughtering countless civilians at the Weather Factory!” he reminded the Captain angrily, then turned away from the bars and returned to his bunk.

“We are at war, Captain. Where love and friendship will not avail us, pure hatred must be used. Where the Sun and Moon Gods will not aid us, a demon of death in pony form must suffice!

“Know that I am that demon and the key to victory in this war! That after twelve years of fighting that demon, I now embrace it!”

No Easy Answers
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Fallen]

‘Twas then that the Captain told his aide to end the projection; she slumped hard and stumbled at having to relive the memory of such repugnant thoughts and emotions as she had sensed from him. ‘Twas only then I understood just why she’d reacted so badly to the Captain’s request, and reflected that perfect memory recall must have its own heavy price, given it forced you to not just remember but relive things you didst not wish to.

“Thank you, Total Recall. I know how hard that was on you.” He then tapped her twice on the head and once on the chest, causing her to give a great gasp and collapse to the ground, where she curled herself into a ball and began to cry.

“I’m so s-sorry…” she managed before burying her head in shame.

“Don’t be. There, there…” The Captain picked her up and hugged her with his wings like a frightened foal as Blindside and I looked on in confusion. “You will be fine, my young friend. And be not ashamed—‘tis only natural that you cry, given I’ve cleared your thoughts and released your pent-up emotion.

“This will allow you to sleep, so return to your quarters and rest, knowing you have served me well this day. See to yourself for now, as I will need you fresh tonight for when we go visit the Lunar Council.”

“Y-yes, sir…” the mare sniffled as the Captain detailed a Naval sentry standing outside his door to escort her to her guest room.

Once she had departed, he closed the door behind her and slumped slightly, rubbing his head lightly. “Very well, Sergeants. You saw what he is and what he has become. I acknowledge—to my surprise—that he was not that way before, but I fear he is forever lost now. By his own admission, he has surrendered to his inner demons fully. Willingly surrendered, I might add,” he informed us, and methinks I was hard pressed to deny the truth of his statement.

“‘Tis certain that he cannot be trusted in combat, and as things stand, he will not listen to reason. Methinks not even from the two of you.” He turned and stepped out through the doorway onto the outside deck, staring out over the city. “And thus, a difficult decision lies before me.”

A chill went through me as I sensed that decision’s import. “But sir…” Blindside spoke for both of us as my own lips stayed silent, for I sensed and feared the Captain was correct. “We have to try!”

“Agreed!” I finally broke free of my stupor. “Please, sir—do not slay him, for methinks he was right on one score—we need him! If I can just talk to him—” I once again fell silent at an upraised wing as the Captain stared out into the deepening dusk, the ember-like glow of thestral eyes occasionally apparent in places as they continued their patrols and supply runs into the city.

“Upon reflection, methinks you’re half-right, Master Sergeant, and so was Thunderbolt himself. We do need him. But not as he is now, or ‘tis certain he’s just as much a threat to us as to them.

“Not just for the chance he might turn on us or spoil surprise by attacking too soon as he did against the Lucavi, but for the extreme measures the gryphons might use when faced with him. If he thinks they cannot slay him, he is sorely mistaken, and I fear what equally indiscriminate weapon they might bring to bear against him.”

Neither of us offered a single word of protest, for we both knew he was right. Thus, I began mentally steeling myself to be denied permission to see him, and to have to let him go, as it increasingly seemed that the Thunderbolt I knew and respected was forever gone. “For him to fight alongside us safely, we need the other Thunderbolt—the one who trained the two of you. The one who strove to contain his demons and act honorably in service to others.”

“Then we need a way to bring him back,” I stated the obvious. “But how…?”

“How indeed.” A silence descended upon us as the Captain appeared not only lost in thought, but increasingly troubled.

“Methinks I may have such a way,” he said at some length, causing me and Blindside to glance at each other again. “As I consider this question, I recall he made several claims that were false: that no gryphon could defeat him for his hatred of them; that Harmony did not exist and Friendship would not avail us in this war. And thus, a hate-powered demon of death like himself was needed to win it.”

“Methinks you are correct, Captain. But how do we use that information?” I asked, not immediately seeing what he was getting at.

“By disproving those claims,” he answered immediately, “all at once and in a manner he simply cannot ignore. If Thunderbolt can be made to see that his self-proclaimed truths are anything but, then mayhap their hold over him collapses. Mayhap he can then see his demons for what they are—false gods and the most dangerous of delusions—and wrest back control from them, restoring the honorable friend and mentor you both knew.”

“And how do we do that?” Blindside asked in a subdued voice.

“Unfortunately, Sergeant… ‘tis now clear that we cannot.” He shook his head, then seemingly steeled himself as he turned back to us from the balcony, his hooves clopping audibly on the wooden planks.

“For him to see the truth, he must be shown that Harmony does exist—that a properly motivated gryphon can defeat him despite all his bloodlust and vengeance-driven killing ability; that true power does not come from hate.

“And that means, he must fall to a gryphon who fights for others in further defiance of his claims, with both he and his gryphon opponent at their fullest power.” He bowed his head as if he was reaching yet another difficult decision, if not the one I initially feared.

My brow furrowed. “But sir, the only gryphon we have is—” I believe ‘twas then I realized where the Captain’s logic led, and I exchanged a horrified gasp and glance with Blindside. Surely he couldn’t mean—

“Precisely,” the Captain confirmed grimly. “So ‘twould seem the only possible means of Thunderbolt’s salvation is one Gavian Ravenoff—the very gryphon he tried to slay last night. Master Sergeant Firefly had requested I visit him before departing, as she says he is still struggling mightily with Thunderbolt’s attack. So mayhap ‘tis time I do so.”

“Sir…” I stepped forward, even at the risk of speaking or acting out of turn. “With all due respect, you can’t! Gavian is good—at least the equal of a low-ranked Lance, methinks—but if he can’t win against Swift Strike or Firefly, then he certainly can’t win against Thunderbolt, even fighting at his full power!”

“I said at his fullest power, Master Sergeant,” he corrected me as I beheld his sly grin for the first time. “And that, I assure you, he has not yet been able to touch…”

I wish it known, Captain, that my initial reaction to what Typhoon proposed was every bit as bad as yours to start.

Methinks the only thing that kept me from more violently voicing those fears, accusing him of insanity despite the gross insubordination ‘twould have entailed, was the example of my sister becoming an effective soldier when I never dreamt she had it in her. And the knowledge that the Captain never did anything that was not well-considered.

Nevertheless, ‘twas still a reckless and senseless plan to me; one I could not fathom would work. But before I surrender the pen, I also wish it known that I categorically do NOT approve of your new writer of this tale, especially so soon after reliving the loss of my family!

‘Tis just as well you did not tell me about her until just now, for I might likely have torn up my writings in protest!

—Fell Flight

I know, old friend, and perchance ‘tis because I did not suffer that loss that I can look at this more dispassionately; recognize the unique and important perspective that new writer brings on the events to follow. Events that, as you said earlier, I was in utter agony to watch and would never have allowed but for your counsel and the mentioned example of your sister, who I also never dreamt would be the one to snap Gavian out of his despondency.

As for our new writer, her identity will become clear soon enough. Her real name must remain hidden, and even before this publishing, the Council of Crows has expunged all Office of Owl records regarding her to ensure her identity cannot be uncovered.

‘Tis no doubt that some of her comrades could possibly identify her from the descriptions alone, but Swift Strike and a series of back-channel communications initiated by the EIS to their gryphon counterparts assures me that, having reviewed her writings, her superiors find nothing objectionable within them.

The EIS likewise assures me she reveals nothing of her kind beyond what was already known, and any information that might be gleaned from her writings about their methods and tactics ‘twould be decades out of date anyway.

So without further ado, I present her writings as they were delivered to me, unaltered except for some asides by Swift Strike, who received and reviewed them first.

—Firefly

Warrior of Shadow
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Natasha]

To the readers of this tale, both the ponies of Equestria and the heirs to the Empire who live under the Gryphon Kingdom alike:

‘Tis with great reluctance I take up the quill pen after initially declining the offer to do so; one given me by Captain Firefly herself. ‘Tis simply never been the way of my kind, whose work must remain in the shadows as much as possible. But stories we have, and this one I have been persuaded by the course of this recounting and a personal appeal from Captain Firefly to share—an appeal passed to me by Swift Strike upon her learning of the secret I held. Who am I, you ask?

I am a Raven.

I look at those words, and I cannot believe I just wrote them, let alone that I am going to keep them. That I am not going to burn this manuscript even but three paragraphs in, but rather finish it and then give it to an Equestrian counterpart for inclusion in a recounting of the Great War.

I am aware my very title evokes hatred in places like Cloudsdale, and thus, my true name must remain hidden behind an alias. But know that I seek no absolution for my role in the conflict. Not even for the attack on Cloudsdale, whose success was critical to our overall objectives. I spied and slayed in service to the Empire, obeying the blood oath I once swore to do so. I cannot and will not apologize for adhering to that oath, even if it required me to do things I found wrong or distasteful.

‘Tis not to say that I am without regrets. For the Ravens, like so many other Imperial organizations, lost sight of who they were and what they were supposed to be. Over time, we became mere adjuncts of the Owls, doing all manner of dirty business for them instead of simply serving the gryphon race as ‘twas originally intended upon our group’s founding two centuries ago.

‘Twas our original mission and purpose to deal with threats to gryphondom that lay in the shadows where conventional forces could not reach. And now, ‘tis our mission again as we answer not to an intelligence service that forgot itself, but to the Queen who rules our race and those she appoints as our overseers.

‘Tis to my amazement I have survived this long and risen to the rank I have, but I am under no illusions—death comes for all creatures, and I will one day face the judgement of my ancestors for my work and war crimes. I know not how I will be received, but in the meantime, I will continue to obey the oath I once swore to protect my country and kindred.

Hate me if you must, but like the Lances who were—and in some ways, still are—our greatest rivals, the work we do remains necessary for the safety and survival of our nation, despite what it may sometimes require us to do.

But I will not dwell on our burden or dishonorable acts. Before I begin, I wish to thank Captain Firefly for conveying my group’s honors to the Thunderbolt dedication, and my former adversary of Swift Strike for enabling me to pass this note. Indeed, he is the only one on the Equestrian side I would trust to keep my confidence, having proven he could do so by keeping the survival of the two Ravens he once spared thirty years ago a secret.

—“Orel Travina”

[Raven rank and title withheld]

You are welcome, worthy foe. I am honored by your trust and willingness to share this story. Methinks what I said to your comrades thirty years ago still holds true today: we in the Lances may not like you, mayhap not even now, but we do respect you as rivals, peers, and even kindred spirits.

‘Tis worth noting you proved your identity by fighting me to a draw blade to blade in our first meeting, which is something few have ever done. You earned my respect that night, so you may consider this yet another professional courtesy extended from the Lances to the Ravens.

To the readers of this tale, I have read the passages to come, and they are an accounting of the events described as complete as they are compelling. We are only too aware that her inclusion in this retelling of the war will be controversial on both sides, but there is good reason it needs to be here.

Those reasons will become clear in due course; all I ask is that personal feelings be set aside for the sake of history. And for the sake of a perspective that paints a far different picture of these events than a purely Equestrian one would.

Know that I have made no edits to this account except to add a brief comment here or there. If I ask anything of readers, ‘twould be to keep an open mind, and consider that the Lances, too, have many stains on their honor. Ours are just less known.

—Sergeant Major Swift Strike [ret.]
Headmaster
Foxford University
Trottingham

Covert Operations
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Hydra]

Eagle Aerie Supply and Command Base
Outside Cirrus Cassida
September 4th, 1139 AC
1200 hours

My telling of these events begins as my new seven-member Raven team departed Eagle Aerie at noon, under cover of combat.

We were initially disguised as simple Talons, even taking part in a brief battle action as the 19th Talon legion breached pony defenses with minimal Knight support near the town of Bridle, on the road to Maresk and the Equestrian Army forces at Fort Ironheart.

Instead of making for the city directly, they then advanced southwest, driving a wedge into the dry seabed between Maresk and the Equestrian Army’s tactical school and training base of Sunset Pointe, intending to cut off the latter whilst conducting an encirclement in concert with the forces of sub-Consul Romelus to the north.

If all went well, nearly two legions worth of pony soldiers could be cut off and killed, destroying their next line of defense. ‘Twas not our mission, though. In the midst of battle, my team then disengaged in the chaos of the breakthrough and subsequent pony retreat, sticking to the clouds as afternoon cumulus started to build.

As we flew, we shed our Talon uniforms and illusion spells to reveal our light grey leather armor covering our equally ashen fur and feather dye, which camouflaged us nicely against the clouds and permitted our deep penetration into Equestrian airspace for the second time in four days.

Our objective was to arrive in the area of Cloudsdale’s suspected position over the Foal Mountains well before darkness, when thestral night vision would make approaching their border far more problematic. And from there, ‘twas our task to locate and infiltrate the city, recovering two critical pieces of intelligence—the strange shields and the source of the powerful lightning the ponies used in the earlier battle—that the Prelate desired.

He had also requested a battle damage assessment on the Weather Factory, but ‘twas a task I intended to farm out to one of my two three-Raven elements as I had no wish to visit the sight of my greatest terror again.

In truth, I had no wish to come to Cloudsdale itself again, but the Prelate’s reasons for sending me there were sound, as I was the only surviving team leader and I already knew the layout. ‘Twould be a lie to say I was at all happy or confident about our mission, though a simple sense of duty and the oath I had once sworn compelled me forward despite my lingering fears. ‘Tis certain I quashed them as best I could, but they were still obvious to my new comrades, who methinks had increasing doubts about my state of mind the deeper we got into pony territory.

‘Tis certain I could not blame them. They had not been there and not witnessed what I had, so they simply did not understand what had occurred there. I told them of Thunderbolt, of course, and to avoid him—and thus, avoid detection in general—at all costs. They would obey as ‘twas my order to them, but I caught a scoffing expression more than once at the fear I could not help but evince at his mention.

Despite what the Primarch said in an earlier chapter, ‘tis a lie to say that Ravens have no fear. In truth, we consider fear a necessary tool for sharpening our wits and our blades, especially early in our careers.

Indeed. “A Lance who does not fear does not survive,” I was told during my initial training at Coltanado. —Swift Strike

Some fear is healthy. But ‘tis certain the level of it I was feeling was not. ‘Tis worth noting that a Raven’s greatest weapon is in fact stealth, and ‘tis actually rare outside of wartime that we are told to engage in direct combat or assassination. My report on the original battle had included an observation that heavy Raven losses were in part due to the fact our light armor was unsuitable for fighting in the open, as Corps soldiers could swarm us in the air and even untrained civilians were able to keep us at bay with scattershot bolts from storm clouds we had no counter for.

I knew not what would come of that, and ‘twas not my concern anyway. I just wanted to complete my task as quickly and silently as possible, and not run afoul of a being ‘twas certain to me no gryphon could ever defeat.

If all went well, we would not. We would find the city before dusk and infiltrate it, complete our mission overnight, and then slip free with the morning mists at dawn.

If all went well, within two days we would return with our treasure trove, and let the Owls go to work on analyzing them whilst we received additional missions in support of our new offensive.

Missions that would hopefully take us nowhere near Cloudsdale or the terrifyingly lethal Lightning Demon who dwelled within it.

Infiltration
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Lemurian Star]

North flank of Foal Mountains
Equestrian side of Equestria/Thestralslovakia border
September 4th, 1139 AC
1840 hours

Dodging some patrols and a reinforcing Aerial Corps company heading to the front, we kept our initial timetable, arriving just north of the Foal Mountains an hour before sunset. ‘Twas clear enough that something was there, as we saw both pegasus and even thestral patrols; the latter reaching well past their borders.

‘Twas the first time we’d ever seen true bat-ponies, and ‘tis no lie to say that the sight of bat-wings and cat eyes on a pony body was disconcerting, to say the least. ‘Twas all the more concerning that they were apparently working in concert with the Equestrians the Owls said they were disposed to hate.

After carefully reconnoitering the lower slopes from the base of the clouds, we landed to carry out the next phase of the plan. Removing our armor and Raven weapons, we activated several storage gems, one of which contained a series of glowing vials we all detested—polymorph potion.

Grimacing not just from the taste—“Fair warning; it tastes like Diamond Dog droppings,” I once told a pair of Raven acolytes trying it for the first time, who didn’t believe me until they took a sip only to throw it back up almost immediately—we downed it in one gulp to minimize the taste, sat back and waited.

Back then, the potion was made in part from pegasus magic distilled from captured primary feathers. It took effect almost immediately as our beaks and wings shrank whilst our talons fused into hooves and our headfeathers were replaced with fur.

Leonine tails were swapped with grasping pony ones, and despite the nausea the transformation into pony form brought us—no matter how good the potion had been made and how gently it acted, the body and spirit automatically rebel at being forced into an alien form—we didn’t fight it and spent the next five minutes getting used to our new pony bodies.

‘Twas something gryphon pride would normally never allow to be done, but as Ravens, we were told that ‘pride and honor do not serve you in war or peace.’

Like the Lances again, who do whatever it takes to complete the mission and have neither the inclination nor luxury to concern themselves with such niceties. And thus, perchance we are more alike than either side wishes to admit. —Swift Strike

‘Twas actually a potion developed after we realized that the Lances could take gryphon form, as ‘twas a trick we needed to learn as well, if for no other reason than to determine how to detect it. We were eventually successful at both—to a degree—and refined it further over time, requiring all our agents to practice being a pony until they became proficient at it.

‘Twas far from an enjoyable process, feeling your very form shrink and stretch. Nor was it perfect, as our coat colors tended to be earth tones rather than the pastel hues that ponies typically possessed. Further, none of us had cutie marks, requiring additional magical masquerades—or a simple inkpatch pressed into the fur—to compensate.

And finally, though we acquired pegasus magicks like wind and weather control, we were advised not to attempt them. For without a lifetime of training and practice in using them—training we simply could not give, lacking proper teachers—our clumsy efforts could well give us away. Or worse, result in electrocuting ourselves with a lightning bolt backfire.

Within twenty minutes, we were ready to attempt entry. The question then became: how? What disguise would get us there? The answer seemed obvious given the sheer number of them around us—a Corps patrol.

So eschewing the uniforms of weather workers or even going in with no clothes at all, we donned some Corps uniforms and older model wingblades our Owl overlords had purloined, taking an additional potion to change our fur colors to the cloud-white hue the Corps favored. That also removed the need for cutie mark prints, as the Corps covered them with their fur dye.

‘Twas still a dangerous game to play. We could certainly survive some minor scrutiny, but lacking their codes and crystal communications—to little surprise, the Corps had changed all their magical decryption keys after the initial attack, rendering us unable to read them until the remaining Owl agents could obtain us the new ones—we could not hear or respond to hails.

Thus, ‘twas still best to be seen as little as possible. Waiting for a gap in patrols, we flew up into one—methinks I will say this about pegasi; their natural speed and agility to say nothing of their ability to push off the very air can be addicting—and within ten minutes, we had arrived at Cloudsdale.

The first thing we did was take note of its location—ten leagues inside thestral territory. ‘Twas news that the Prelate would wish to hear; that they were sheltering the city within their borders on the south side of the Foal mountains. And even more ominously, we quickly noted, the thestrals were supplying them with food and other wares, as we saw small Naval transport dirigibles carrying them to the city’s administrative area located in the center of the city for distribution to the populace.

Their presence quickly raised another question—where were the transports coming from? The existing allotment at the Corps base of Fort Tempest, which had guarded and garrisoned the Storm Cloud Factory, had been destroyed by the Knights in the initial attack. So then where…?

Our answer was given as we spotted the silhouette of a Royal Naval airship just visible through the deepening dusk, anchored outside the seat of city government. Or as they called it, City Hall.

Her story continues from this point, but if I have not lost too many readers by now over this account’s inclusion, I feel a brief interlude is in order to set the stage for what was to come. And as he was the central figure in it, ‘tis to my son the quill must now pass.

—Firefly

Thank you, Mother. For what ‘tis worth, I find this account fascinating thus far. Even though ‘tis also certain I would have wished to strike them down myself had I been aware of their presence, for the death and destruction they had wrought on the great city but three days earlier.

I believe I might have an inkling of where this is going, but I will hold my thoughts on it—and of her—for now. In the meantime, ‘tis my turn to write again. ’Tis worth noting that the more this account has involved me, the more my students ask about it, and more than once I have ended up spending class sessions relating stories of the war and my life.

‘Tis annoying at times, particularly when I am trying to teach, but at least I may say the respect and honor shown to me by students and staff alike has only grown from this tale’s telling.

—Gavian Ravenoff
Headmaster
Celestial Art Academy
Canterlot

To Save Two Souls
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Project Insight]

EAS Loyalty
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
2025 hours

I awoke not long after sunset to find myself, if not refreshed, at least feeling somewhat better.

Fell Flight’s sister was gone along with Fell Flight herself, and the only other ponies left in the room were Mother and the PSD mare, who hadn’t moved from the corner where she watched over me and who I wondered if ever slept.

Mother herself was finally resting, I realized, sleeping in her armor on her bunk not far from me. Seeking not to disturb her—’twas certain I’d put her through enough over the past day—I rose from my cloud with a nod to the Stiletto Sergeant. Methinks she had taken a liking to me, even offering me some additional training in knife fighting and blade throwing when I felt up to it.

I did not know if I ever would, then. For what was the use of training if there was a level I could never reach? And for it, a demon of death that I could never defeat?

At least I hadn’t woken up screaming this time, perchance due to the presence of Fell Flight’s sister. The lullaby she sang me was still snugly nestled in my memory, echoing through my mind. And this time, when I dreamt of Thunderbolt again, the Captain of the Guard stepped forth and saved me, but he looked strangely troubled as he did so.

I had barely enough time to remember that and wonder why before there was the sound of hooves clicking hard together outside the door. An “Attention on Deck!” call was then heard from the sentries, announcing the arrival of a high-ranking guest.

The shout rousted mother, whose eyes snapped open as she lurched somewhat shakily to her hooves. She scrambled up and hurriedly put herself to rights as the door was opened to admit Captain Typhoon and several other figures, including Fell Flight, Still Way, Blindside and a bandaged Swift Strike.

“At ease,” he called as Mother reflexively saluted him even though they were indoors. Methinks I did not blame her for the breach of Naval protocols; ‘twas difficult enough for me to keep the differences between them and the Corps ones straight in my head.

“Sir!” I bared my throat hard to my savior, whom I was certain was the sole being on the planet capable of stopping Thunderbolt. “You honor me with your visit.”

He frowned at my unkempt state. “The honor is mine, young gryphon. I will be leaving for Hollow Shades in two hours, and other matters will require my attention in the meantime. Your mother earlier asked me to visit you, saying you were having difficulties. So how fare you?” he asked gently as I noticed Fell Flight and Blindside looked very unhappy behind him.

“Fine,” I lied, my voice dull. “Just helpless. And hated… at least by most.” I sniffled, clinging to the memory of the incredible kindness Fell Flight’s sister had shown me, still feeling completely unworthy of it.

“There is no shame in your defeat, lad,” he said gently, laying a hoof on my feathered chest. “Those who could defeat Thunderbolt are very few in number. As things stand, there are mayhap but one or two on either side who could.

“As I’m sure your Black Lance mentor will tell you, the mental trauma he suffered imparted him incredible combat abilities, ones far beyond even those warriors who could normally be called elite. Warriors like yourself,” he added with a smile as Swift Strike nodded ruefully at my glance. His head remained bandaged from the blows he had taken, though he looked far less woozy than before.

“Like myself?” I gave a short and bitter laugh. “You flatter me, but I am not deserving of it, sir.”

He raised an eyeridge in response. “I must disagree, young gryphon. Your mother and the Sky Sergeant here told me about your battles with the Fortis Knights. ‘Tis an impressive feat that you were able to take down not one, but two of them in single combat. So make no mistake, Gavian Ravenoff—you are an elite warrior by the standards of either race. And for it, 'tis a relief you are on our side.”

I tried to feel a swell of pride at his words, but none came. “Thank you, sir. But ‘tis certain I do not feel like one right now,” I told him. “I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I cannot stop seeing him. I cannot shake the feeling of terror and helplessness. I can still see his eyes. I can still feel his lightning raising the feathers on my head. Even though I know he is locked up, I still expect death from him at any time. And I fear it will remain that way even after we depart.”

“I see.” The Captain considered me for several seconds, uncertainty in his eyes. “Then tell me, young gryphon—would you fight him again if you knew you could defeat him?”

The Captain’s Offer
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Taking a Stand]

I found that to be a useless question, giving him a brief but bitter laugh. “It does not matter, sir. For I cannot. Nopony—or gryphon—could best him but you, Captain,” I pointed out, feeling a renewed sense of shame that I was once again dependent on others for my safety, even after eight months of intensive training from multiple masters.

“Truly?” The Captain asked with a sly grin; one that was not shared by those he brought with him. I wasn’t sure what Fell Flight, Blindside and Still Way were doing here, but methinks they seemed less than happy; even Still Way wore an expression of uncertainty. “Gavian—indulge me for a moment. Please perform one of your sword katas.”

“A kata?” I blinked hard as Still Way floated over my sheathed sword. I had not taken it up since my rescue, as I found myself no longer worthy of it for having been beaten and disarmed so easily. Its grip was familiar in my claws, but its weight felt greater than ever before as I looked at it briefly before returning my gaze to the Captain. “But why?” I truly had no idea why he wanted me to execute one of the series of training movements Swift Strike had taught me, ones designed to impart proper form and fluidity.

“Humor me,” the Captain requested again, then stepped back to give me room as the rest of the onlookers did the same, most exchanging dubious looks but otherwise remaining silent.

I obeyed, or tried to, launching into my most basic routine—the very first one I had mastered and had later used as a means to measure my progress. But my heart was simply not in it. The sword felt very heavy and ungainly in my talons, and worse, my movements were stiff and stilted; nothing even approaching the fluidity I’d gained in previous months.

Stumbling over myself and nearly fumbling my blade twice, I felt like a novice swordgryphon again; ‘twas as if all my training was for naught. The blade ‘twas but a foreign object to me now, no longer the extension of my being that it had once been.

Through it all the Captain said nothing but studied me closely even as I caught the winces from Swift Strike and Mother at my poor performance. “Sir, please—” the latter began only to be stilled with another upraised wing.

Frustrated and on the verge of tears again as I found all my hard-won abilities lost, methinks I was just about ready to quit when abruptly, the Captain stepped forward and struck me with a wingtip on the back of my head followed by two more hits, one to the shoulder and one to the base of the spine.

‘Tis hard to explain what happened to me in that instant. The hits were not hard, but ‘twas like an electric shock as my senses went scrambled and there was a mighty surge of energy through me, as a succession of internal barriers I hadn’t even known were present crumpled to each hit in turn. All my doubts and fears and excess thoughts receded at once as suddenly, I found myself charging through the kata with incredible speed and clarity of purpose.

In amazement, I started over, going back to the beginning of the routine. I whirled, slashed at and dodged my imaginary opponents with more speed and ease than I could ever remember as I completed the kata in under a minute, ending by rearing up and spinning my sword once—a flourish I had added to the routine long before—to reverse my grip for a downward thrust in a simulated killing blow.

I wasn’t trying to, but when the image of Thunderbolt beneath me flashed through my head, I stabbed so hard that the sword embedded itself six inches into the deck, splinters of wood flying into the air as I completed the movement. ‘Twas only when I was done that my full awareness came flooding back, and I found myself reeling in a mixture of shock and delight.

“What… how…?” was all I could stammer at first, looking from my blade to the Captain in wonderment. Even Mother and Swift Strike had gone open-muzzled to see the change come over me!

Both Typhoon and Still Way smiled knowingly. “You see, young gryphon? You do have it in you,” the Captain pronounced in great satisfaction. “And before you ask, all I did was release your mental blockages and allow your inner energy to flow freely again.

“The body and mind are closely linked in ways most ponies don’t even fathom, each reflecting and influencing the state of the other. Thus, by freeing one, you free the other, and suddenly the impossible becomes possible,” he explained, then arched an eyeridge. “Or the unbeatable becomes beatable.”

As I processed the words, I found myself shaking like an adrenaline surge had just worn off, though ‘tis certain I didn’t know if ‘twas from that, or the Captain’s final pronouncement. “Then… you are saying I can fight Thunderbolt now?”

“As you are? No,” he shook his head apologetically, causing my tail and wing feathers to droop anew. “This is merely the level you were at before your encounter with Thunderbolt, and I must say, you have improved even more since I last saw you in late June. Your progression as a swordsgryphon and warrior is most remarkable, and ‘tis to your great credit as well as that of your teachers.”

He turned briefly to give an approving nod to Swift Strike. “But unfortunately, ‘tis not enough against a being whose body is honed and whose every instinct and thought ‘tis turned towards killing.”

I sighed and resheathed my sword, setting it aside again. “Then ‘tis no point in me training, as no amount of help or additional masters could get me there.”

“In that, you are incorrect, my young gryphon friend,” he replied cryptically, his sly grin growing. “Now that you have tasted my talent, Gavian Ravenoff, know that I can do even more with it. That by using it, I can enable you to defeat Thunderbolt.”

That got my attention, as well as everypony else’s. “Enable me?” I asked in a shaky voice whilst the other onlookers exchanged confused glances.

“Indeed. For you see, young gryphon, my admittedly peculiar art can not only inhibit, but enhance. With it, I can temporarily boost not just your strength and speed, but your reflexes and agility to super-pony—or perchance I should say, super-gryphon—levels of ability,” he paused to let the words sink in. “With but a few taps from me, you will enter an altered state of being where you will become nigh-invincible, even able to resist Thunderbolt’s wind and lightning.”

“You can do this? But how?”

“Through one of my art’s most potent abilities—the Shinka o kaihō suru technique,” he explained.

To Defeat a Demon
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Countdown]

‘Twas certain I had no idea what that was, though I noticed Still Way’s brow furrow. “That’s Neighponese—“Release Divine Fire?” he translated.

“Indeed. As Neighpon is where my art originated,” the Captain said as an aside. “But ‘tis unimportant right now. For you see, young gryphon, Thunderbolt’s abilities come in large measure from the fact that he has perfect clarity of purpose, and zero inhibitions about killing.

“Due to the severe emotional traumas he suffered, his mind and body remade themselves to realize all his latent killing ability at once, in order to avenge his fallen comrades and the slaughter of innocents he witnessed.” He paused for a moment as Swift Strike nodded slowly whilst Blindside bowed her head in silent prayer.

“It makes him incredible, but not invincible. ‘Tis within my power to duplicate that effect, and with it, you will realize all your latent warrior potential instantly. With it, you will be able to fight him at your fullest and truest power, at a level far beyond what you—or even your mother or mentor—are now capable of.”

“Unbelievable…” Still Way said the word we were all thinking.

“Then you are saying that using it, I will be his better?” I barely dared hope.

“You will,” he said without hesitation, for had I heard any, ‘tis certain I would have been far more reluctant to listen. “I have taken your measure again just now, young gryphon, both of where you are and where you can yet be.

“So believe me when I say that at your fullest power, you can best him. And perchance in his defeat, reach him. Disabuse him of his mistaken beliefs and murderous ways. Force him to face the truth and turn away from the demons that have taken control of him. Return to us the honorable soldier and mentor he once was, and perchance in the process, restore your own warrior spirit and confidence.”

‘Twas certain the Captain of the Guard now had my undivided attention. “You can truly do this?” I had to ask again.

Captain Typhoon nodded once. “I truly can. But be under no illusions, Gavian Ravenoff—it will come at a high cost,” he warned, his tone turning grave. “This technique is never lightly used. To begin with, it will heighten your emotions as well as your strength and senses, and make you much more likely to act on impulse. ‘Tis been known to cause those affected by it to lash out in a murderous rage, or to stalk and slay their tormentors—much as Thunderbolt himself once did,” he mused.

“But unlike with Thunderbolt, its effects are only temporary. ‘Twill last but ten minutes, and in its wake, you will be left in greatpain for many days afterwards, due to both withdrawal symptoms and the extreme overexertion this brings. This technique severely taxes both the mind and body, and debilitation or even death can result from it.” He paused to let the words sink in.

“Be assured the latter is unlikely, but the healers will have to attend you immediately afterwards to ensure the damage is not permanent,” he said with a nod to a surprised and uncertain Still Way. “That is why I wished the First Sergeant to hear this, so he could start preparing his healing arts to assist. Even with his help, you can expect to spend at least several days in the infirmary. And it may well be weeks before you can function normally again.”

He then stepped forward, making me meet his gaze. “To put it simply, young gryphon: for ten minutes of godhood, you will suffer at least ten days of pain. And I cannot promise that despite all intervention, you will not suffer lasting injury or death.”

Methinks I didn’t know what to say. ‘Twas certain part of me immediately wanted to say yes, but… what was the point if I survived Thunderbolt only for this to kill me later? What did it matter if I bested him only to fall from its aftereffects? And would it truly be me beating him? Or just some artificially enhanced version of me who bore no resemblance to my true self?

“I was unaware of this side of your art, Captain. Have you ever used this particular ability before?” Even Still Way seemed troubled by what he was hearing.

“Yes. On myself, once.” The Captain did not elaborate, but he closed his eyes tightly in what seemed like remembered agony for a moment. “And with it, I accomplished my task, but paid a heavy price for days after, unable to move without excruciating pain.” He sighed heavily before raising his bluish-green eyes back to mine.

“I tell you this not to frighten you, but so that you understand all it entails. I have never tried this on a gryphon, of course, but in theory, it should work. For my art does include studies of other races,” he mused. “Locations of pressure points may change slightly, but the basic energy paths of the body are consistent and can be manipulated in the same way. You will note that I had no issue using it on you just now, whilst you performed your kata.”

“‘Tis true…” I granted, still marveling at how easily he had restored my combat worthiness. “In that case—”

“Sir! With respect, he is not a soldier, he is my son!” Mother could restrain herself no longer. “You ask him to endanger himself for an uncertain outcome that gives him two chances to die—once by Thunderbolt, and once by the aftereffects! As his mother, I cannot allow him to do this! If you wish somepony to face Thunderbolt, let it be me! I will accept this technique and beat him into the ground!” She stepped forward to present herself.

“No. You will not,” Typhoon told her simply, using the exact same tone of voice he had when informing Thunderbolt that he would not be allowed to kill me. “For two reasons. First, ‘twill not matter if you best him, Guardsmare. Or any other pony, for that matter. I already did, and he was unrepentant. Methinks the only way this will work is if a gryphon beats him at his best, in defiance of all he believes true. And second, as you have not yet mastered your lightning talent, it would become uncontrollable and you would endanger bystanders with it.”

“Then with all due respect sir, why even bother?” Mother then tried another angle. “‘Tis clear enough to all present he cannot be trusted in combat! So honor his actions to save Cloudsdale, but imprison him permanently for attempted murder!”

“Ma’am!” Fell Flight shouted. “With all due respect to you, he is not irredeemable! I know him! I was trained by him! I know how he was, and how he can be again!” she stepped forward and flared her wings angrily, showing once again how raw everypony’s emotions and nerves were over this one stallion.

“After what he tried last night and after trouncing us all in the process? I don’t believe you, Master Sergeant! Methinks he is nothing but irredeemable! And 'twould be the height of folly to let him anywhere near Gavian!”

For just a moment, Fell Flight growled and looked on the verge of saying something very insubordinate, only to be stilled by Blindside’s upraised wing.

“Ma’am, I understand what you are saying, and I fear the outcome of this as much as you. But as he is, Thunderbolt cannot fight for us without endangering all of us. We need his combat ability, but as a soldier who can obey orders and inspire others, not as a soulless slayer of gryphons who will only turn the Empire into a more implacable foe!” Blindside tried next.

Mother gaped at her. “And you think that a gryphon—that those he has sworn to slay on sight—can somehow convince him of this?”

“I know not. All I do know is that the Captain is right—that none of us can reach him right now.” Blindside went downcast, as did Fell Flight beside her.

“And you also think that of all gryphons, Gavian can? A teenaged cub who not only belongs to a race Thunderbolt hates, but who has not even half his age, size, strength, lightning affinity or sheer killing ability?” she recited the damning facts in disbelief, and put that way, ‘twas certain I was hard pressed to disagree. “‘Tis sheer and utter madness!” she further claimed, and though the Captain took offense, judging by the narrowing of his eyes, he did not reprimand her.

Then again, nor did Fell Flight give him the chance. “And my sister was the absolute last pony I thought capable of leading, fighting, or killing. She had no experience, strength or training. And yet she fought, led and killed in the battle for the Weather Factory,” Fell Flight replied, her haunted eyes instantly silencing Mother.

“And yet even after all that, she was still able to come here afterwards, and do what she did for Gavian—even though at first wind, introducing them seemed like madness as well! I am not a foal, commander—I know what the Captain describes seems like insanity!

“But the more I think about it, the more I believe he is correct. We have all seen what miracles his art can accomplish, so I believe him when he says he can do this for Gavian. In any event, I see no other way to both reclaim Thunderbolt and restore Gavian’s spirit.”

“Even at the cost of Gavian’s life?” Mother marched up to her and looked her in the eye, trying to cow her as she had on multiple occasions before.

But this time, it did not work as Fell Flight squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a moment but then opened them again, meeting Mother’s gaze evenly with her cat-eyed one.

“If ‘tis Gavian’s wish? Then yes,” she said simply, causing Mother to recoil like she’d been slapped with a wing. “We already allowed him to fight a death duel with a pony once before, and by doing so, he reached her when nopony else could. He succeeded then; now he must do so again. Only with far greater stakes.”

I was listening to them argue silently, my blade still sheathed at my side. Methinks at that moment, the question I had to ask myself was simple:

Would I more regret taking this offer? Or declining it?

“Enough,” The Captain announced, ending the back-and-forth. “We are flying in circles. So let us now come to the crux of this matter.” He returned the room’s attention to me. “You have heard the two sides of this, Gavian, and now the decision is yours. I cannot order you to do this, nor would I. The choice to face Thunderbolt again is yours and yours alone.”

“‘Tis not his choice!” Firefly went right up to Typhoon, perchance risking arrest for insubordination and conduct unbecoming as she flared her wings in anger and spoke sharply to him. “‘Tis mine as his mother! And I say neigh!”

“To be sixteen is to be considered of age in the Empire, Master Sergeant,” he replied coolly despite her aggressive stance.

“He is not in the Empire! He is a citizen of Equestria by Our Princess’ decree! That means I am his mother and legal guardian! And as such, I will not permit this!”

“I’m afraid I cannot agree,” The Captain answered patiently, perchance because he understood Mother was reacting as a parent and not an underling he would automatically punish for backtalk. “In this instance, he mustface Thunderbolt as a representative of his race, not as a citizen of the Empire or Equestria. Thunderbolt is consumed by his demons, and as your second says, they make him unusable as a weapon of war.

“Losing to a gryphon when he claims he cannot—in direct defiance of his demons and the hatred he claims gives him his power—is the only thing that may break that spell and make him see reason. Restore him to the honorable teacher and soldier that Sergeant Blindside and Master Sergeant Fell Flight once knew.” He nodded over to them.

“But—” Methinks Mother’s resolve was starting to waver as her most trusted colleagues began voicing support for the Captain’s proposal.

“Methinks I am no more happy about this than you, ma’am. But I’ve thought about it, and I believe the Captain is correct,” a tired-sounding Swift Strike spoke up next. “As things stand, we need Thunderbolt but cannot use him. For ‘tis certain that should we unleash him now, he is as much a danger to us as the gryphons. Believe me, I know—not just from yesterday, but from twelve years ago.” His eyes went haunted for a moment, leaving me wondering of what he spoke.

“Well said, Sky Sergeant. And thus, this is Gavian’s choice.” With those words, the Captain of the Guard turned back to me. “If you wish this, young gryphon, I will grant it. ‘Twill not be easy, but in doing so, you will find the ability to face your fears and defeat this demon. To show him once and for all that gryphons are not irredeemable savages, and that his hatred does not grant him the power of life and death over them.

“So think well and choose wisely. I am off to Hollow Shades shortly. When I return tomorrow, I will receive your decision. And whatever it may be, I will—”

“I accept!” I blurted out right then and there, even as I felt an unreasoning wave of sheer terror try to grip me at the thought of facing Thunderbolt again. “I w-will do it.”

“Gavian!” Mother exclaimed, her legs buckling even worse than mine had.

“I accept!” I shouted the words this time, forcing some steel into my spine. “I must, Mother, or ‘tis certain I will never regain my confidence or spirit! Or shake the terror I felt! ’Tis far better for me to die in battle than to live in fear! ‘Tis far better to die on my terms than his, and learn just what my ‘fullest power’ is in the process!” I told her, raising my voice to her for perchance the first time in my life before gulping back my surging emotions.

I shook my head hard, trying to clear it. “I know not if I can reach him as you desire, Captain, and in truth, I care not! All I want is to expunge the fear I felt! To taste my true potential and defeat this demon’s hold over me! For even if I die or lie in agony after, then at least then I will know what I can truly do, and will have that knowledge to comfort and soothe me in my passing!”

I pulled myself up and stood to attention before him, saluting like a pony soldier, straightening my talons out to sharpen the gesture. “I accept your offer, Captain. I will face Thunderbolt again, this time with all my latent warrior ability unleashed!”

“So be it,” the Captain said solemnly as he returned the salute with a wing, as seemed to be his habit, though I noted the barest hint of a smile brush his features. “I admire your courage, young gryphon, and I can find no fault in your reasoning. Then my final instructions to you are to ready yourself mentally for the task ahead—eat, sleep, and mayhap even meditate with the First Sergeant here. He can help focus your mind. We will hold the duel tomorrow, once I return from Hollow Shades—”

“No! Now!” I exclaimed to him. “Please, sir—I do not wish to wait! I do not wish to dwell on or worry about it overnight! If I think about it too long, I fear ‘twill be to my detriment! So if I am to face him, let it be immediately!”

“Gavian…” Firefly looked on the verge of collapse as she leaned heavily on Blindside for support. “He’ll kill you!”

“Mayhap he will,” I conceded, unable to quite keep the tremor from my voice. “Then I will accept the judgement of battle on behalf of my race. But if the Captain is correct…” I turned to him.

“I am,” he said simply and without hesitation. “Be assured, I can tell. I promise that defeating Thunderbolt ‘tis within the power of your fully unleashed potential, young gryphon. ‘Twill not be easy, but if you succeed, you restore your warrior spirit and mayhap salvage the soul of one of the greatest soldiers Equestria has ever produced…”

To this day, I know not if the Captain truly believed what he said, or was simply trying to build up my confidence.

Regardless, I would not have done it but for the fact that I had seen and then experienced directly what his talent could do—non-magical miracles that made me respect and revere him as I did few others. Fell Flight and Swift Strike speaking up on my behalf helped also, though it caused me great pain to do this against Mother’s wishes.

‘Twas not the first time, of course, as I had done so to duel Aves Osprey many months earlier, not telling Mother I planned to make it a death duel until I issued the actual challenge. But despite all my fears and the very real chance of death, methinks this, like then, was an occasion where my gryphon blood would not allow any other course of action.

As much as I might like to describe the duel to come, I simply cannot. I only remember the barest hints of what happened as if ‘twas through a fever dream; but a few flashes of the battle and emotions I experienced are present in my memory. ‘Tis an experience that both tantalizes and haunts me, and so I must pass the pen to another who did witness it and remembers it quite clearly.

And given that, I believe I now know why our guest writer is present.

—Gavian Ravenoff

You have guessed correctly, my brave and beloved son.

‘Twas originally my intention to give the quill to Blindside for the following chapter, as she has not been heard from much, but this new perspective simply must take precedence over hers. ‘Twas a perspective we did not even know existed before I was informed of it, and contains several additional revelations within it. So by necessity, the next chapter will be almost completely given over to our guest.

—Firefly

“Friendship is a plant of slow growth and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.” —George Washington

Author's Note

And there you have it folks. For the sake of saving both himself and Equestria's greatest soldier, Gavian will risk everything to face and fight Thunderbolt again.

This chapter was a 14k word struggle to write, requiring me to scrap and then completely redo my first attempt at the Typhoon/Thunderbolt talk. Never mind what the first one was, except to say that it was way out of character for Thunderbolt; completely at odds with his past behavior and history. Thankfully, prereader AJ_Aficionado spotted it. He told me it was wrong in no uncertain terms, and I listened. That's what prereaders are for--catching not just typos, but wholesale mistakes that could completely undo a chapter or greater story. So thanks, AJA. You saved me here.

As to the coming battle itself, you won't have long to wait. That chapter is already 10k words and growing, and thus, it'll only be a few days before release. In any event, you now see why I couldn't put this all into one chapter as was my original intention. It got too long and there was too much setup needed. And better to have second chapter focus almost entirely on the payoff--the duel itself. That has to be perfect; an epic but believable battle as two supercharged antagonists engage in a war of both blades and wits.

The chapter has been a journey and an ordeal at times, but hopefully it works in the end. Thanks as always to my prereader cadre, and especially AJA for helping me fix this. He contributed some lines to the rewritten section and all his points and comments were well-taken.

Rally and Recover: 12 - To Save Two Souls

Greetings to all yet again. As strange as it seems to be relegated to the rear lines in a story that began about my rise and eventual role in the war, ‘tis simply the way it must be right now, as my viewpoint is neither as dispassionate or observant as the events to come require.

‘Tis why I originally intended to give the pen to Blindside, who stood with me and gave me comfort for the entire sequence, but then I was informed by Swift Strike that he had just learned there had been, of all beings, a Raven present for the duel, and that perchance she might give up her story given a personal appeal from me.

I wrote that appeal, telling nopony about it, entrusting it to Swift Strike to deliver. Whatever his methods, I was informed several weeks later that, after some additional back-and-forth between them, she had agreed, and her account was delivered to me ten days later.

‘Tis true I deliberately did not tell Fell Flight or Colonel Osprey about it, as I knew well what their reaction would be. And in truth, I have indeed taken criticism for the previous chapter, though some of it has been surprising.

Some say I should not be giving the Ravens a voice or platform, which was hardly unexpected, but still others said that I should not have included it for doing the Ravens themselves a disservice—that their vital role was only made possible through the greatest of secrecy, and that any story I might share from them endangers them.

My response to that is very simple: ‘tis her choice to make, and between her and her organization. The writings were reviewed and found acceptable by the Council of Crows and, I presume, her own superiors. Even beyond that, Swift Strike has offered his insights into the life of the Lances as well, but ‘tis certain they are no less effective because of it.

Yet another class of criticism is that Captain Typhoon had no business risking Gavian in such an insane and dangerous plan, to which at the time I wholeheartedly agreed. The points will be addressed later by myself and Gavian, but suffice it to say for now, ‘twas cause of much friction between us. Still others cannot fathom what a single Raven could offer over and above my own viewpoint, or any pony’s, for that matter.

To which I answer: read and find out, and then decide if her inclusion was unnecessary or greatly enriched this tale.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Cloudsdale
Central District
September 4th, 1139 AE
2150 hours

Methinks me and my Raven team had already seen much that had been unexpected during our approach to and infiltration of Cloudsdale. But the presence of this airship was the most surprising sight of all, requiring some immediate investigation.

Flying in a standard Corps patrol formation, we circled in for a closer look. As we got near, we could read the name on the ship’s bow in the lowering light level of dusk, which our transformed pony eyes were not as able to deal with as gryphon ones—the EAS Loyalty.

My pegasus-disguised team exchanged looks. We knew the name, for we knew the action it had been in. So this was the airship that had charged halfway across Equestria to the rescue of the Epsilon garrison on the first day of war, extracting them and decimating an entire Talon millennium and their attached Knights with the ship’s magical cannons in the process?

And now it was here at Cloudsdale without its escorts—one of which had been lost at Epsilon, granting the hard-hit 16th Talon legion at least one major prize to somewhat salve their wounds—sitting at airship anchor squarely inside thestral territory?

‘Twas more evidence of an already-existing alliance between the two sides the Prelate would need to know. ‘Twas also too good an opportunity for additional intelligence to pass up, particularly as we heard some nearby civilians saying that the ship’s mistress was offering tours of the interior.

So I dispersed my team, dispatching my two three-Raven elements not to the ship or weather factory, but to the pubs. ‘Tis an old trick but a good one, as a little alcohol combined with a pinch of truth powder oft and quite easily loosens the tongues of those with information. To that end, I told them to use their pony bits to buy some civilians and soldiers cider to see what they could learn about our objectives. And in the meantime?

In the meantime, I would investigate the airship personally and perchance see if I could board her—or excuse me, board him, since Equestrians use the male pronoun to describe a ship—getting a look at the interior to see if there was any intelligence to be gleaned or weakness I could identify.

Ten minutes later, I had switched disguises, swapping my Aerial Corps uniform and wingblades for the stained and well-worn vest of a janitor. ‘Twas for both appearances and to allow me a means to carry a small array of weapons and tools in my interior pockets, including an enchanted lockpick, a pair of short blades and a double-tubed blowgun. I had intended to approach the ship and inquire about the possibility of a tour, but before I could, a deep voice boomed from the ship over its external crystal speakers.

It invited all ponies present to come forth and witness a duel. A duel that was promised to be between a pony and a gryphon?!?

I knew not what they meant by that any more than the ponies around me—what gryphon? Had they captured Knights or Ravens and were now using them for gladiatorial sport? Surely not, I thought, as even in their more Imperial times, pegasi had not engaged in such barbarity using prisoners of war! But regardless, I had to know who this gryphon was. For if there were captured Ravens here, then ‘twas my duty to end their lives before they gave up information.

So following the proverbial herd—which included some uncertain thestral soldiers chattering in their native tongue who paused their activities to observe; I took the opportunity to examine their uniforms and equipment, including their rather advanced and intricate-looking wrist-mounted crossbows and equally odd, double-bladed gauntlets clipped to their weapons belt—I flew near the airship and I took my place near the front of the quickly gathering crowd, just hovering in the air as one of many ponies present.

A series of angry shouts erupted as the gryphon was brought forth. He was flanked protectively by nearly a dozen Corps and Naval ponies, cringing at the hostile reaction he garnered. ‘Twas clearly no captured Knight or Raven, but I realized who he must be from his youth and small stature as well as the presence of his ‘Mother’, Master Sergeant Firefly of the Royal Guard:

Gavian Ravenoff; the young sky gryphon raider who had been taken prisoner by the ponies late the previous year, following a failed raid on Outpost Epsilon by the now-destroyed Hildyra raider group. Methinks that group had been a particular favorite of the Prelate, extensively used to kidnap ponies for ransom as cover for implanting mind control gems within them. But after a failed attempt on his life, this teenaged cub had given the ponies all the information they needed to uncover that plot and thwart our initial invasion plans.

A failed attempt in which six of my brethren had died attempting to slay him at the then-Consul Gaius’ orders. They had fallen to his Black Lance bodyguard and Commander Firefly, both of whom I could see flanking him and who appeared none too happy at the events unfolding.

Raven leadership had been less than pleased with the now-Prelate at the time, and ‘twas certain the Owls were still upset over it as well, as the hasty and ill-thought operation had compromised their greatest intelligence project ever. Gavian Ravenoff’s survival and subsequent defection had revealed their mind-controlled agents in the Equestrian military to the ponies, and once their EIS knew what to look for, they scanned for and wiped out the Owls’ entire painstakingly constructed spy network in the space of several days.

In fact, ‘tis certain the Owl leadership never trusted the Prelate after that, as they habitually withheld information from him for as long as possible, to the oft detriment of both. Still, the entire situation I was seeing made no sense to me—why was he fighting in front of such a hostile crowd, all clamoring for his blood? Why were they exposing him like this; forcing him to fight a pony?

And what pony would he be fighting?

‘Twas then a great series of cheers erupted as a new figure was led forward down the ship’s gangplank in shackles, his hooves and wings restrained. I turned to see him and my pegasus wings seized in sheer fear, forcing me to alight before I plummeted out of the sky in remembered helplessness and terror.

Methinks I was barely able to control my fright or my flight; ‘twas all I could do to land on the city surface without crashing in the midst of the crowd that had already gathered there before the airship, where my worst fears were confirmed:

The Lightning Demon stood before me again, but thirty paces away.

Under the escort of several guards, he was led forth towards Gavian in very heavy-duty wing and hoof manacles, though he’d been given a wingblade harness and hoofstrikers to wear that he could not yet wield until those restraints were released. Despite his captive state—and had I been less frightened, I might have wondered why he was apparently imprisoned—I shook, praying he wouldn’t look at me or I was certain that despite all my experience and training, I would bolt like a frightened cub.

Even without him doing so, it took all my will to resist the illogical but overwhelming urge to flee at once lest he somehow sense me, strangely certain that even if he didn’t see me, he could smell me. But he never turned towards me, all his attention fixed on the gryphon in front of him. Methinks he was smiling like he could scarcely believe his luck; his expression that of a wolf who had cornered the lamb that strayed too far from the herd.

‘Twas then yet another surprising figure appeared—Captain Typhoon, Commander of the Royal Guard. He had been a priority target for the Owl-controlled civilian assassins in Canterlot, and we knew not his fate as of my departure, but ‘twould seem they missed their mark with him as he bore no wounds. If possible, he seemed even more intimidating than Thunderbolt, standing half a head taller and completely unafraid of him as he brought forth a blue pony command gem to address the growing crowd.

“Pegasi of Cloudsdale! Thestral friends and allies! I invite you all forth to witness a clash of blades between two mighty beings! To my right is a pony who needs no introduction to this city—Second Lieutenant Thunderbolt, hero of the Battle of Cloudsdale!

“And if you wonder why he is in chains, to my left is the young gryphon he attempted to slay on sight—Gavian Ravenoff, adopted son of the first Armored Guardsmare; Master Sergeant Firefly!”

The introduction caused some murmurs of surprise as well as a fresh eruption of angry noises; methinks ‘twas a mixture of outrage that Thunderbolt had been imprisoned for such a thing, whilst those Corps and Naval soldiers I assumed hadn’t been here for the battle wondered aloud why he was being set free to menace Gavian again.

Wait—that meant they liked him? I sensed there was much to this story I didn’t know as the Captain went on. “By his own request, Gavian seeks to offer Thunderbolt a fair fight in a formal duel with very simple terms—life to the winner and death to the loser!

“I offer this duel not for entertainment, but so that Thunderbolt and all Equestrians may see that there are gryphons who are not our enemy! That there are gryphons just as capable of honorable acts and fighting for others as we are!” he announced to derisive sounds as a few bets were made around me regarding how long Gavian would last. Most guesses were between five and ten seconds, and at least one mare said hopefully he would die in less than two.

Ignoring them, Captain Typhoon cleared a makeshift duel arena fifty paces wide with a single and strangely sourceless surge of wind around him. He scraped a circular area of the cloud surface to perfect flatness with it, its edges marked by its characteristically more puffy cumulus veneer.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Captain, but after preventing me from killing him, you serve him up to me on a platter? And give me an audience for it?” Thunderbolt laughed out loud. “Methinks you are either mad, or mayhap finally came to your senses.”

“We will see,” the Captain of the Guard replied in a cool tone. He then approached Thunderbolt and made a series of rapid motions; applying what appeared to be little more than mere taps to the Lightning Demon’s spine and head. Whatever he did, Thunderbolt took a shuddering breath and fell to his knees, trembling violently like he’d just been released from his bonds.

Powers Unleashed
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - Fury]

“I’ve restored your power on a delay, Lieutenant—you will be able to use your lightning affinity again within twenty seconds,” he announced to the crumpled and shaking pegasus, causing my brow to furrow in confusion—what did he mean by ‘restore’ it?

He then quickly turned to Gavian, who I could see visibly swallowed in the light of the firegems in the courtyard, which were glowing at low evening illumination levels. “’Tis time. The moment of your greatest trial and triumph is at wing, young gryphon! Are you ready?”

I knew not what the Captain meant—triumph? Against Thunderbolt?—but the shaking teenage tiercel stood to attention before him, puffing out his chest to present himself. He was armed with nothing except the Owl-issue shadow scimitar strapped to his back, taken undoubtedly from the Raven team that had fallen attempting to slay him. “Do it!”

“Prepare!” With that single word, Typhoon struck Gavian Ravenoff in the chest directly over the heart, far harder than he had Thunderbolt; for a moment methinks I thought that Typhoon had just slain him as the blow caused Gavian’s eyes to bulge and his beak to gape open in a soundless scream!

An uncountable number of additional strikes followed, aimed at what seemed roughly his nerve and circulatory centers before ending with a double-strike with the wingtips to both sides of his head. Gavian visibly reeled from it, crying out and finally crumpling hard to the cloud surface.

“‘Tis done. ‘Twill take effect within seconds, but the clock is now ticking!”the Captain warned him. “You must end this duel within ten minutes, my young friend, or your body will be in danger of failing completely and leaving you at Thunderbolt’s mercy!”

Gavian didn’t reply. But then abruptly, his shaking stilled just as Thunderbolt pulled himself back up. Electricity gathered around his torso as his lightning power returned to him; an animal growl building in his throat as he turned his full attention on his gryphon opponent with pure hate and murder apparent in his eyes.

And yet, the Captain remained fearlessly planted between them, blocking Thunderbolt’s path to Gavian whilst he likewise rose to all fours. He gave a feral growl of his own as off to the side, Master Sergeant Firefly clutched her one-eyed comrade, barely able to watch.

None of those present outside the two combatants looked happy, I noted again, leaving me wondering if the Captain of the Guard had ordered this over their objections. But how could he order a civilian, pony or gryphon, to sacrifice himself like this? And what possible purpose could there be in such insanity as facing an unstoppable killing machine like Thunderbolt with a sixteen-year old gryphon cub?

Such were questions for another time as I felt a moment of deep pity for Gavian Ravenoff. I closed my eyes briefly and prayed to my Ancestors that whatever his crimes or treasonous acts, his end would be swift. I might have turned away and left him to his certain fate, but I did not, deciding in perchance a moment of sisterly sentiment that at least one gryphon should be there to stand with him in his final moments, even silently.

Opening my eyes again from my hurried prayer, I forced my gaze back to the improvised duel arena. When Gavian’s green eyes opened again, I flinched—for they were nothing like they had been before! They were filled with a fire and lethal intent that matched Thunderbolt’s; his gaze focused on him like a predator seeing prey.

Or in hindsight, and perchance more appropriately, a captured animal finally freed and about to turn on his tormentor.

“Interesting…” Thunderbolt granted as he studied Gavian carefully. An electrical charge audibly built within him; his guards stepping quickly back as a growing static crackle was heard. “But pointless!” With a massive eruption of sparks, he broke his bonds, sending links of enchanted chains flying in every direction, their mangled edges smoking and even glowing at their fringes before they fell through the cloud surface to the mountain slopes below.

“I know not what you just did to him, Captain, but nor do I care!” Thunderbolt announced loudly and proudly. “As a courtesy for giving me this chance, I will let you declare the start of the duel before I kill him, but make it quick! As I understand the gryphons have launched a new offensive, I wish to slay him swiftly so I can fly to the front and start slaughtering them!” he said to fresh cheers.

Despite the display and boast, both the Captain and Gavian himself were unperturbed, the former wearing an expression of disdain and the latter, one of not fear but eager anticipation. His talons flexed at the cloud surface as a quick but strong series of sinuous movements went through his entire body, his fur and feathers rippling hard with their passage as his muscles limbered, tensing and loosening in turn.

He said nothing, but Typhoon did, giving Thunderbolt a sly grin. “Take him lightly at your peril, Lieutenant. Now that you are both ready, you know the terms—this duel is full combat, and to the death! Fight with all your skill and power! But be warned—should either party deliberately endanger our audience, I will intervene personally! Is this understood?” He looked at both pointedly in turn, receiving a sharp nod from Gavian and a far lazier one from Thunderbolt.

Satisfied, he stepped back from the two as an eager Gavian stood forth, his excited, agitated state in marked contrast to his earlier anxiety as Thunderbolt deployed his wingblades.

The Lightning Demon

At that moment, the large clock on the top of City Hall read 9:55 PM. “Then to save two souls...combatants! Begin!” he announced the formal start of the duel in the pony manner with a slashing motion of a wing between them, then flew back to oversee the affair as I heard what sounded like a choked sob from Firefly just over the raucous cheers of the ponies around me. Most urged Thunderbolt on but a surprising number, all wearing Naval or Aerial Corps uniforms, were openly rooting for Gavian.

But the two did not attack each other right away, instead starting to slowly circle at a distance of ten paces. Whatever the Captain had done to him, the young gryphon’s fear had melted away to be replaced with something I couldn’t yet quantify.

And neither, ‘twould seem, could Thunderbolt, who studied him again, and then smiled. “So eager to die, are you? I don’t know what he did to you, my little chickenhawk, but it matters not! I said before you gained some honor by fighting for us, and I would spare you the pain of my blades.” A fresh static crackle was heard as sparks started gathering around his hooves. “I am a stallion of my word, so don’t worry—I’ll make this quick!”

My stomach clenched anew as I saw him gather up the lethal charge of electricity from inside himself, having seen what he could do with it—strike down even a fully-shielded Magus singly or armored Knights en masse. The crowd must have as well, for they—and me—reflexively took several steps or wingflaps back even as they cheered him on; in at least one case, surprised thestral soldiers were yanked bodily backwards away from the danger by nearby pegasi.

And yet, Gavian Ravenoff did nothing at the threatened attack but smirk and take flight into a hover a short distance off the ground, causing those spectating in the air behind him to quickly clear the area. He said nothing, but for as frightened and uncertain as he had looked before, he suddenly seemed not just loose, but completely unconcerned despite the lethal threat. To my eyes, ‘twas as if the anxious and uncertain tiercel that had been brought to the arena only minutes ago had been replaced with a completely different gryphon.

But how? Why?

‘Twas only when a sneering Thunderbolt finally loosed his lightning but a half-second later to a deafening BOOM! that caused my larger pony ears to ring that I got my answer—Gavian disappeared! His image resolved but a heartbeat later a short distance to the side; the bolt passing harmlessly through where he had been—though judging by the jagged path it traced, it might have bent slightly towards him due to the metal sword still strapped to his back.

The ponies around me fell open-muzzled at the impossible feat, and I admit, I joined them—for no creature, pony or gryphon, should have been fast enough to dodge a launched lightning bolt!

“Sorry, Lieutenant, but it’s not going to be that easy!” Captain Typhoon informed a gaping Thunderbolt from where he had landed on the top deck of the Loyalty, whose initial shock quickly gave way to anger as Gavian simply hovered mockingly before him with his forelegs crossed, a smile on his face that was half-smirk, half-sneer. “I have taken his measure as well as yours. So believe me when I say he’s more than a match for you now!”

Thunderbolt’s eyes narrowed. “A match for me? This cub? Don’t make me laugh! I said before that I would spare you the pain of my blades, Gavian Ravenoff! But no longer!” Thunderbolt announced to cheers from the assembled ponies as Gavian finally drew his own blade in response. And yet, he held it only loosely before him in his hover, not even bothering with a guard stance! Methinks he was all but taunting Thunderbolt at this point, a gesture that did not go unnoticed as his pegasus opponent let out an angry snort.

And this time, when Thunderbolt attacked with speed no Raven could withstand, Gavian Ravenoff waited until what seemed like far too long before bringing his blade up to parry the rapid fire and horrifically powerful wingblade attacks, which he did with impossible ease; the blocks and shrieking collisions of metal only apparent to me from the sparks flying off their clashing blades. The rapid and very loud series of clangs made it seem as though a score of soldiers were fighting in the arena below, and not just two.

Their bright lines and flashes seared my equine eyes in the low evening light, causing the bat-ponies present to wince as their glowing eyes visibly narrowed. At least one donned a pair of opaque flight goggles, which I later guessed were meant to allow them to fight in daylight.

But all that was only noted in passing as my attention remained on the incredible display of combat skill before me. By his rapidly changing expressions, Thunderbolt was first amused, then surprised, then outright shocked at the resistance he met, no more so than when Gavian scored the first hit of the duel instead of him! Though the action was generally far too fast for even me to follow, I was just able to catch a parry of a wingblade reversed into a hilt strike driven hard into Thunderbolt’s chest, knocking him backwards in the air at least three yards!

The two broke contact, but Gavian did not follow up as a stunned Thunderbolt coughed hard, and then rounded on the Captain. “What sorcery is this? What did you do to him?” he demanded to know, rubbing his bruised chest.

“Nothing except unleash his full fighting potential,” Typhoon said with a smirk from his new perch atop the airship deck, whilst Gavian appeared flush with pride and power, smiling even as he still growled low in his throat. “And be assured that no sorcery was involved. How I did it ‘tis unimportant, but just know the gryphon you are facing, Lieutenant, is in many ways your own reflection! I simply recreated your ascension to supreme slayer within him so you could see what it was like to face one!”

“Reflection? Of me?” Thunderbolt shook off the blow and lowered his head, snorting angrily again as he focused fully on Gavian, who snarled and lunged partway forward once like he was barely in control. “You insult me, Captain, as methinks you face me with a mindless animal!”

Ascended Gryphon
The Winter Soldier - Captain America Suite

“A mindless animal?” Gavian grated the words out slowly, giving instant lie to Thunderbolt’s statement as he spoke for the first time since the duel started. Methinks it surprised me, as I wasn’t sure he was capable of speaking in that state. “And methinks you now insult me!” He brandished his blade, which was showing several streaks on its normally pale grey face from their earlier clash of weapons; bright metal gleams peeking out from underneath the deliberately dulled finish.

“Then I have your attention? Good!” Thunderbolt shouted and charged him again, this time making a spiraling attack to which Gavian countered with a forward-looping one, spinning himself head over heels as he held his blade forward in both sets of talons.

A tooth-rattling collision resulted that caused a fresh eruption of sparks; I am not sure but I thought I might have heard something snap. And this time, when they broke contact, there was a shallow slash mark on Gavian’s face and a second on his foreleg, blood from the wounds already oozing through his feathers. “Your fate is the one that awaits all your murderous race!”

“I am murderous?” Gavian gave the scoffing retort I would have wished to as he licked his arm wound and flexed his talons a few times, confirming they still worked. “I am not the one who seeks to slaughter innocents! Who wishes to slay not just me, but all gryphons!”

“No gryphon is innocent! Your entire evil and honorless race is an affront to Equestria and a threat to all ponies who live peacefully! Know that I am but a product of that evil, Gavian Ravenoff, and you are the fruit of the same poisoned tree! ‘Tis my very duty to endyou and all gryphons!” he said in Aeric. A momentary glance over the audience revealed that the Lance named Swift Strike was translating his words for Firefly, whose eyes blazed and looked ready to leap forward, only to be restrained by her second and the one-eyed mare.

Gavian somehow noticed. “Stay back! For he is mine!” he shouted over his shoulder towards his adoptive mother before focusing his full attention and rage on Thunderbolt again. His glare then hardened and his talons tightened their grip on his blade.

“Evil? Honorless?” Gavian repeated the words like a Talaeus Centurion about to administer a harsh and potentially lethal lesson to an insulting Talon fledgling. “You know our language, yet you know nothing about us! Or about me!” He pointed the tip of his Raven scimitar at Thunderbolt.

“For the losses I suffered from the Lucavi, I know all I need to!” Thunderbolt began channeling lightning through his body again, rearing up and concentrating his electricity in both forelegs.

“From the Lucavi?” an unimpressed Gavian echoed, hovering fearlessly before the threatened attack. “I barely even know that name!” he said as my lips tightened, for I did know of what Thunderbolt spoke—a raider atrocity that had been unequaled in fifty years.

“Don’t worry—you will!” Thunderbolt promised before firing short sparks like miniature bolts in rapid succession at the teenaged tiercel, who effortlessly dodged them. He looped and veered around their paths with uncanny speed and precision whilst closing the distance between them, keeping his Raven blade bared in front of him.

As his gryphon opponent neared striking range, Thunderbolt flapped his wings to call up a powerful wind, seemingly trying to fling Gavian back. But whatever the Captain had done to him, Gavian’s enhanced flight magic enabled him to fight through it, continuing his advance.

I only realized ‘twas a ruse when Thunderbolt smiled and abruptly reversed his wind. He drew it—and Gavian—inward towards him, charging up a fresh bolt and channeling it into his hoof; he clearly intended to impale his enemy upon it.

But Gavian spotted the ploy and turned it back on him by using the wind to increase his closing speed, reaching and attacking the Lightning Demon before he could fully prepare the strike. His unexpected assault forced a surprised Thunderbolt to hurriedly raise his wingblades in a crossblock to stop the powerful overhead blow; the heavy impact of which still visibly shook his body. It also disrupted his focus enough to disperse his half-formed bolt whilst driving him hard into the cloud surface; a plume of clouds flitting into the air from the crater his body had created.

There was a fresh and very painful sound of grinding metal as the two then attempted to overpower each other, each trying to force their weapon through the other’s before another static crackle announced a new tactic. Pushing a hoof forward, Thunderbolt delivered a fresh but unfocused electrical charge directly to Gavian’s feathered chest, and I instantly realized his intention—he was trying to stop Gavian’s heart!

But Gavian didn’t flinch from it despite the pain it visibly caused him, maintaining the pressure of his blade. An angry and primal growl grew in his throat as he met all of Thunderbolt’s electrical power head-on, forcing his wingblades back until there was an explosion of electricity and outward burst of wind from the pair that threw them both a short distance.

They landed at opposite edges of the duel arena, each putting a short rut and divot in it that marred its previously flat surface. But Gavian appeared to take the worst of the exchange as he was slower to rise and badly singed in places. Wisps of smoke came off his head and wingfeathers; even his tail tip was smoking!

Twitching it hard, he simply dunked it in the cloud to extinguish it as he pulled himself back up and shook his head sharply to clear it. “So you blame not just me, but all gryphons for their actions? I knew them not, but if they were anything like the typical raider group, ‘tis certain they were hated by the gryphon civilians they bullied and terrorized as much as you!”

“As much as me? ‘Tis not possible!” Thunderbolt claimed. “So before we continue this soon-to-be-ended contest, allow me to educate you, my little gryphon—the Lucavi were a cutthroat raider group led by a merciless Mistress who slew a hundred ponies in a single hour! Slaughtered an entire village and their defenders to the last—defenders I led! We were unarmed by orders of our idiot commander, and forced to fight them with our bare hooves!” he said as he launched himself at Gavian again, now slashing with even more speed and hate-fueled ferocity than before.

His blows were only barely blocked or dodged by a shock-shaken Gavian before Thunderbolt slammed a hoofstriker into the young gryphon’s head, stunning him and then proceeding to pummel him with both armored forehooves for several seconds.

Gavian was reeling, and I was certain the fight was about to end when Thunderbolt then disarmed him of his Raven scimitar; a sharp downward slash of a wingblade knocked it from his grasp and sent it spiraling into a nearby cloudbank, to fresh cheers.

But instead of finishing him, the blows and imminent danger only seemed to enrage Gavian, arousing him out of his electrical stupor. He lashed out with his talons as quick as a manticore stinger; the sharp slash sending a spray of blood off Thunderbolt’s cheek and into his eyes. The surprise strike saved him as it forced Thunderbolt to look away, causing his follow-up slash to go wild.

“I had nothing to do with that!” Gavian all but roared as he then headbutted Thunderbolt hard with an audible crack! to gain some separation, landing two more talon slashes on his chest and face before he backflipped out of the way and retrieved his blade—among their other enchantments, ‘tis worth noting, Raven weapons and other items were able to sit upon or even be stored within clouds for later retrieval. “Any more than I had anything to do with the attack here!” He punctuated his statement with a rapid slash of his sword that seemed to briefly cut the air itself.

“It matters not! For you are complicit merely for being a gryphon!” a bleeding Thunderbolt replied, this time rearing up and then slamming his hooves down into the cloud surface hard, causing a series of bolts to erupt upward from it in a steadily expanding circle! The smell of ozone lay thick in the air as his expression hardened. “And now you will die for the sins of your race!” he proclaimed as the bolts formed a cage and closed on Gavian, who looked around in momentary worry. But when he noted the bolts bending towards his scimitar, he simply threw his blade downward, into the clouds.

It embedded itself to the hilt. The sparks then curled in on themselves and shorted each other out on the focus of his blade, making my pony muzzle fall open—that was all it took to stop one of Thunderbolt’s most powerful and unavoidable attacks?

“I do not die without answers, demon! So tell me and all present—why do you wish me dead? And why didn’t you slay me before?” Gavian challenged, causing me to blink—they had met before this, but Thunderbolt hadn’t tried to kill him? “You had your chance when I last visited, but you were friendly then!” he announced to all as he withdrew his blade from the cloud surface and resheathed it on his back.

Thunderbolt stared at him before forcing a sneer; methinks he—and all others present, including myself—were finally understanding that Gavian Ravenoff was not just swift enough to fight him, but mayhap smart enough to beat him! “Perchance I took pity on you for the story of your upbringing I heard—a pity that was clearly misplaced!”

He next leapt forward and launched a wind-aided hoof at Gavian, who simply turned the blow against him by using the momentum the gale and glancing strike to his jaw imparted by whirling hard; drawing and spinning his blade in a wide arc to impact the back of Thunderbolt’s harness. The surprise strike destroyed the retraction mechanism with a spray of metal shards and knocked the pegasus stallion hard into the cloud. Spots of blood appeared on his back and neck from the metal shrapnel; I could even see a few small holes had been punched in his secondary pegasus feathers!

“Or perchance you weren’t the demon you are now!” Gavian suggested, leaving me in disbelief that the two could deal—and take!—this level of punishment, and that Gavian was somehow fast enough to neutralize Thunderbolt’s ability to predict his strikes!

“Perchance you were still the pony my friends remember—the teacher and mentor who taught them to fly and fight!” he further surmised with a glance back at Firefly and the Corps contingent watching from ground level; I caught Fell Flight nodding sharply at the statement. “They still believe in you, though crows know why! For all I see before me is a hateful demon who thinks what happened to him justifies murder!”

“Slaying in war is not murder!” Thunderbolt somehow charged a blade with electricity and launched an arcing spark from it at Gavian.

“But slaying an innocent is!” Gavian retorted, spinning his scimitar rapidly to form a shield to take the blow; methinks he’d figured out by then that his enchanted blade was in fact some proof against electrical attacks. “You claim I am somehow responsible even after knowing my story? Then you should know that at the time of the Lucavi attack, I was but a five-year old cub about to be abandoned by my parents for being too small!”he shouted in pain, causing the ponies to recoil and my lip to tighten.

For what he spoke of did indeed happen in the Empire. ‘Twas an archaic, and barbaric practice of ancient Sparrowta sects to cast out or even kill cubs deemed unworthy for physical imperfections, whether real or imagined. His Owl dossier had not mentioned that, but it made perfect sense to me, for ‘twas a practice still tolerated by certain clans who could trace their lineage back to that ancient land and time.

‘Twas not legal, but nor could its prohibition be readily enforced. And worse, there were those that, instead of simply slaying their offspring at birth, abandoned them later after it became clear they could never meet such physical standards as was demanded of them. In Gavian Ravenoff’s case, ‘twas clear to me that his undersized frame meant he was not up to those arbitrary and capricious criteria. But this cub was clearly proving those standards were false, as what he lacked in size and strength he made up for in sheer speed and agility!

He would have made a fine Raven, I had the passing thought, as none would suspect such superb skill to come from such small stature! But then again, Swift Strike was small as well—perchance ‘twas his imparted combat style Gavian now wielded?

But such thoughts were lost as Thunderbolt laughed openly at Gavian’s statement, making the latter’s rage grow further. “How apt. They did that to you, and yet you stand here before me as part of the Empire? You stand before me defending them?”

Gavian’s green eyes flashed with a light as bright as Thunderbolt’s lightning. “I stand before you as a gryphon! I hate the Empire!” he all but snarled out the words, his tail lashing and headfeathers flaring in deep anger as he launched a fresh attack on Thunderbolt; a series of sharp slashes that were only barely parried.

“I hate it just as much as everypony here for what it did to me! It cast me out and tried twice to kill me! It treated my life and talents as worthless! And for it, I swore an oath of allegiance to Equestria before Celestia herself!” he told all present between blows, his voice’s volume seemingly enhanced as much as his combat abilities by whatever the Captain had done.

“Gryphon oaths are worthless!” Thunderbolt shouted as he counterattacked with his wingblades, momentarily knocking His opponent’s scimitar askew.

But Gavian turned the attack back on him yet again, letting the strike launch his sword into a rapid arc. He spun it once around his wrist to impact the side of Thunderbolt’s head with the flat of the blade, hitting hard enough to emit a metallic ring—clearly, Swift Strike had taught him some of the Donkey-origin martial art of Judyitsu, which was said to be a Black Lance favorite for allowing them to take on larger opponents and turn their own attacks against them!

“And so is your twisted sense of justice!” Gavian shouted back as his strike staggered Thunderbolt again, allowing a fresh series of blade blows to slowly drive his surprised opponent back. The young gryphon’s offensive continued until an off-balance Thunderbolt was forced to raise a metal-gauntleted hoof to block his latest strike, only to recoil as the Raven blade sliced right through the surface of his hoofstriker!

“Even now, with all calling for my blood, ‘tis an oath I do not forsake! Unlike you, who threw away your oath of honor as an officer and soldier!” Gavian accused as he continued to pound at a grounded Thunderbolt with his Raven blade, which by then had seen such use as to lose almost all its dullness; it was now gleaming ever-more-brightly in the air even as Thunderbolt’s wingblades lost their luster from innumerable nicks and fractures in the enchanted steel.

“Shut up!” Thunderbolt ordered him again with a hard headbutt that made Gavian stumble back, the tremor in his voice and increasingly wild swings telling me that Gavian’s words had struck home. “You were a raider, but you dare claim to have honor?”

“Far more than you, demon!” Gavian reversed his blade to block an upward wing slash and then used the momentum the strike imparted to drive his hilt into Thunderbolt’s chin, causing his jaws to snap together with a loud clack.

Methinks the young sky gryphon’s hybrid style of combat increasingly impressed me even outside of the impossible speed and reflexes he showed—how had he learned this? How had he reached this level in such a short time? Methinks I was forced to examine and discard all my assumptions about what made a good fighter in that moment, as Gavian Ravenoff was turning everything I’d been taught completely on its wing.

The two then separated, bleeding, sweating hard and breathing increasingly heavily; Thunderbolt actually spat out a tooth! “You claim your cause is sacred, but ‘tis certain you’re no better than the raiders you fought!” Gavian then shouted at him.

Thunderbolt reacted like he’d been slapped. “And methinks you would know since you were one!” Despite the loss of a molar, Thunderbolt lunged at him again with blinding speed in an attack that would have instantly decapitated any opponent he fought.

Any opponent he fought short of the one he faced then, as Gavian instantly parried his strike with yet another loud WHANG! that made my pony teeth clench. ‘Twas an involuntary reaction; I could hear and sense the force behind the collision of enchanted steel from the painful screech of metal to the enormous eruption of sparks that flew from them. Ponies around me likewise recoiled from the sharp sounds with a series of winces and audible groans as the pair somehow just kept upping their speed and intensity, refusing to give any ground to the other.

Finally, they separated again; I heard the soft bonging of a bell and was stunned to look up at the clock atop City Hall and realize that it had just struck ten—that for all that had been said and had happened, only five minutes had elapsed since the start of the duel! “Then tell me and all present, young gryphon—why would you join a group of murderous cutthroats if you weren’t one?”

“Because I was lonely and hungry!”Gavian shouted back; the memory was clearly an unpleasant one. “Because I was half-starved and all I wanted was to have a square meal! To have a place to belong and a sword I could swing! I was but fifteen years old and they promised me food and gems and glory! But instead I was only abused further! Brutally bullied and turned into a mere toy for my Mistress’s pleasure!” He clenched his talons on his sword hilt, hard.

The ponies around me gave disgusted sounds; I even heard some angry hisses coming from the thestrals. For my part, I had to look away, for ‘twas true such things happened in those groups far more oft than most gryphons would care to admit.

‘Tis worth noting that in Imperial times, the Owls and Ravens tended to turn a blind eye to raider crimes as they gave us cover for harassing and probing pony border bases and towns. And as raider groups tended to contain the refuse of our warrior society—those who could not or would not meet Imperial standards of strength or honor—we shed no tears for their losses, and simply explained to the Equestrians that they were criminals we could not control.

‘Twas perchance the first time I had illustrated to me what these groups did to their newest members, and that some joined simply because they had no other options. Such revelations, however, were lost on Thunderbolt.

“Then you still don’t know my pain!” he snarled, intercepting Gavian’s latest sword slash with a wingblade and following up with a hoofstriker that connected with Gavian’s head, staggering him briefly and leaving him only barely able to counter the rain of blows upon him.

“Raiders slaughtered my betrothed! Wiped out an entire village in front of me down to the last pony!”he shouted between his strikes, which were peppering Gavian with fresh slashes and bruises. “There was no justice for that village or my massacred mares but what justice I could give them!

“No justice but for when the Lucavi fell and their Mistress Altima died when I impaled her on her own blade!” He followed up with another hoofstriker hit to Gavian’s chin, snapping his head back. But Gavian again turned the attack to his advantage by using the imparted momentum to roll backwards out of the way, springing up with his wings into the air before Thunderbolt could drive a lightning-charged hoof into his chest—how much electricity could he store?—avoiding a potentially fatal hit yet again.

Gavian spat blood out his beak, but appeared otherwise unharmed—other than the myriad bruises, burns and slashes that were already covering him, that is. “She deserved to die, as did my own Mistress! For what she did to me, I would have slain her myself were it in my power! But ‘twas not! What is in my power is to defeat you! A pony more ruthless and evil than any raider group or their mistress ever was!”

Another five-second exchange of brutal blows followed, this time ending with Gavian knocked hard into the cloud surface and then just barely dodging a lightning strike into it. We all scrambled back or took hurried flight to avoid the anvil crawlers that suddenly crept along the cloud surface outwards from the impact point; they fortunately faded short of the arena boundary.

“I am evil?” Thunderbolt echoed the word in disbelief as he fired bolt after bolt at Gavian, forcing him to keep moving. “Methinks you’re the one who wants us all dead!”

The growl in Gavian’s throat intensified as he abruptly disappeared again; I blinked and suddenly he was behind Thunderbolt, swinging his sword hard into the neck guard of his harness; it hit with a shriek of rending metal as the protective steel broke apart and Thunderbolt was knocked into the cloud surface yet again.

“All I want, demon, is for you to stalk me no more! All I want is to return to my friends and new family, who await me by the ship! All I want is for the killing and the hatred to end so I may enjoy the Equestria I’ve come to love! So that I may pursue the life of an artist, son, and swordgryphon! And if fulfilling those dreams requires me to slay you before you end them or any other gryphons’ dreams, then so be it!”

“You cannot!”an initially stunned but quickly revived Thunderbolt proclaimed, and for the first time I heard a definite shrill note in his voice. I knew instinctively what it meant from interrogations and fights I’d taken part in previously—either from Gavian’s words or all the hits he had taken, he was actually starting to doubt! “You know the difference between us, Gavian Ravenoff? I fight for my fallen friends, whilst you, like all gryphons, only fight for yourself!”

“Yes, my wanting to live and not be slain for my race is just so selfish!” Gavian mocked him and I caught furtive glances between other ponies that told me that Gavian’s words were starting to get through to them, too. “How dare I wish to spend time with my new family and pursue my arts in peace! How dare I risk my life for the Captain’s plan in the clearly forlorn hope that I may reach you!”

“Reach me?” Thunderbolt managed a coughing laugh, shaking the sweat that was now covering him away; droplets flung off him in every direction along with specks of blood. “If that ‘twas the plan, then both you and the Captain are foals! If you wanted to live, then you should never have come here! Should never have challenged me! For no gryphon can defeat me!” he proclaimed a little too loudly as he thumped his chest hard.

“No gryphon but this one!” Gavian’s eyes gained an odd and dangerous gleam as he counterattacked, a rapid series of strikes and slashes impossibly driving Thunderbolt back! “And for the sake of stopping you and ending your murderous ways, I will!”

“I am NOT a murderer!” Thunderbolt screamed as he flared his wings to attack Gavian again. “The Imperials are, not me! They were responsible for arming and paying all raider groups! They knew of the IS-2 massacre perpetuated by the Lucavi, and yet they did nothing!” he made a slashing motion with his hoof.

The Truth

“Not true,” Captain Typhoon spoke up from the deck of the Loyalty, the unicorn Captain and her First Officer at his side. He spoke into his blue crystal so all would hear him; his enhanced voice so booming and instantly commanding that everycreature, even the two combatants, turned immediately towards him.

“May all present know that the gryphon border commander of the time, Legate Kamilya Ampok, was sickened by what happened and wanted to deal with the Lucavi herself. But her superiors would not allow it, either because they were afraid to admit error or were mayhap blackmailed by the group leader—a former Owl intelligence officer named Mistress Altima!

“But Legate Ampok would not accept this. So with the help of her equally disgusted underlings, she secretly withdrew her legions from the area and deactivated the border defenses to allow our attack!

“She even gave us all the intelligence she could find on the Lucavi to ease our entry and the course of our operations! So tell me, Lieutenant—wouldst you truly say that she was honorless? Or the officers she collaborated with? They disobeyed orders and risked their lives to help us!”

“You lie!”Thunderbolt claimed even as I closed my eyes and bowed my head—for I knew well that every word the Captain said was true. The Lucavi raid on the pacifist pony settlement was bad enough, but then we had made it infinitely worse by refusing to hold them to account. Worse still, we ignored the dire warnings of our own border commanders that Equestria could not but respond to this atrocity, believing the ponies would not dare invade Imperial territory through a mixture of denial and wishful thinking.

“Then why were there no Talons to meet us? Why did we fight only raiders and reserves?” Typhoon challenged. “Because of her! Because she helped us and lost everything, in part because we could not make the operation surgical as she requested—in large part because of you, Lieutenant!”

“Perchance you are not aware, but she was tried and found guilty of treason! For unknown reasons, the Empress spared her, but her name was shamed and she still rots in a mine to this day! Stripped of her rank and honor because of the damage we did! Damage that far exceeded the losses to the Lucavi!”

“So you expect me to feel sorry for her? We did not need her! We won that fight!The Lucavi are no more, thanks in large measure to me!” Thunderbolt thumped his chest again, earning a series of fresh but fewer and far less enthusiastic cheers that was overshadowed by a derisive pony snort. It came from ground level, where Master Sergeant Firefly and the Corps contingent watched.

“Yes, we won—at the cost of nearly six hundred of our own dead and causing over a thousand civilian casualties! Ten times what the Lucavi inflicted upon us!” the Black Lance named Swift Strike shouted in what I could only guess was rare emotion, which sounded clearly over the blue crystal Firefly had shared with him.

“Thanks in large measure to you, Lieutenant! Your failure to obey orders cost us the element of surprise and nearly got us all killed!” he announced to shocked looks from the ponies around me, who I can only assume were hearing a markedly different version of events than the ones in their news services.

For my part, I couldn’t help but nod in agreement—I knew the story of that attack and subsequent pony retaliation well enough. ‘Twas only by a feather’s breadth war did not result; mayhap because the gryphon leadership at the time, in a rare moment of reflection, realized all that happened was ultimately their own fault.

Regardless, the Ravens were mopping up Lucavi survivors and purging Mistress Altima’s agents from the Imperial government for months afterwards, in an ultimately successful attempt to prevent the group from reestablishing itself. Our lesson learned, we also acted to stop any raider group from growing too large or powerful afterwards, lest they get too big and uncontrollable as the Lucavi had.

“Spare me such sentiment, Sky Sergeant! I did what I had to do in the face of an advance that was far too slow and cautious! The Lucavi would have slipped our net if not for me!”

“You wiped out an entire TOWN!” Swift Strike shouted, the force of his vehemence like a slap to the face. “’Twas an atrocity greater than any raider one, and ‘twas only by the grace of the Sun and Moon that war did not erupt right then and there over our excesses! Over your excesses!

“I know because I was there, Lieutenant! I was with Lance Team Two, supporting your battalion’s advance! We warned you to wait, but you ignored us! You charged into a prepared defense and lost half your command as you plunged us into a war with the populace!”

“Shut up!”Thunderbolt clutched his head as Gavian had improbably stopped to listen to the exchange, perchance because Swift Strike was his mentor. “You know not of what you speak!”

“I know exactly of what I speak, Lieutenant—for I saw you slaughter civilians and wantonly sacrifice your own soldiers at Rial!” Swift Strike drove the point home, causing the civilians around me to mutter; the cheers for Thunderbolt growing steadily less lustful the more information they learned. “You forced us to fight farmers and families that might have helped us but for your actions, and methinks you were so out of control we were ready to kill you ourselves!”

“Is this so?” Gavian asked, his singed feathers still smoking and a few glowing sparks visible within them for all the electrical damage he’d taken. But he ignored them along with the rest of his myriad wounds as, the momentary respite having partially restored him, he resumed his advance on Thunderbolt, his fury growing.

“And you dare to call me a murderer, when I have taken no lives outside of Imperial soldiers? So tell me, Lieutenant—how many civilians did you kill?” He dripped scorn on the rank.

“Stay out of this! For what do you care?” Thunderbolt rounded on him again.

“How many did you kill?” Gavian shouted even more loudly as he neared him, the supernatural rage growing in his eyes. “Civilians? Mothers? Sires? Cubs? Did you not count? Or did you not care?” he spat out, growling low in his throat. “They weren’t part of that group! Far more likely they lived under the Lucavi heel! They were not responsible for what the Lucavi did to your friends, any more than I am for what the Empire did here!”

“It matters not! All that does matter is that I avenge them! That I balance the scales and harness my hatred by adding one more gryphon life to my ledger!”Visibly flustered, he swung a wingblade at Gavian in a wide and whistling arc, forcing the young gryphon to take the blow on his blade braced with his other arm.

Though it knocked him backwards again, his block held. “You mean one more murder to stain your soul!” Gavian shouted as he retaliated, his counterstrike parried but rocking Thunderbolt hard and knocking him equally off-balance. “For ‘tis clear to me they will never be balanced in your mind! Vengeance is just the excuse by which you justify your own atrocities!” He then feinted with his sword only to lash out suddenly and rake Thunderbolt’s face again with his talons, leaving a fresh series of dripping lines on them.

I knew not why Gavian had not gone for Thunderbolt’s momentarily vulnerable throat, except to guess he wanted to punish his enemy now. A quick glance at the latter’s harness showed the damage to his wingblades was getting steadily worse, though they still functioned—pony weapons, we had learned long before, tended to be very well-made; even civilian models were quite close to military grade.

“I sold out my soul long ago!” Thunderbolt’s eyes blazed as he blinked the blood clear of them and came after Gavian even harder now, a quick succession of wingblade slashes and noticeably weaker electrical attacks driving him back. “For vengeance and for justice!”

“And what justice is there in killing me?” Gavian challenged as he recovered and countered whilst raising his own speed to match, regaining his lost ground and leaving them in a seeming stalemate. The two were now breathing very hard; I swore I could see the pounding of their hearts in their chests.

Finally, after another four-second exchange that had included at least a score of traded blows, they separated with a fresh assortment of injuries; blood was dripping off Gavian’s side and Thunderbolt’s sweating face from multiple stabs and slashes, leaving me in disbelief that either were still standing. “What did I ever do to you?”

“‘Tis not what you did, ‘tis what you are! You and your kind are an abomination! A blight on all Equestria!” And finally, to my mild relief, the onlooking ponies now appeared very troubled; the cheers for Thunderbolt had completely stopped by then.

“Abomination? Blight?” Gavian repeated derisively as he dodged Thunderbolt’s increasingly wild swings. “I am none of those things! I am a gryphon!” Gavian thumped his chest hard in a salute-like gesture, then flew away from Thunderbolt, rising to where all could see him.

“Look upon me, pegasi and bat-ponies! Am I a monster? Am I a bloodthirsty, pony-slaying beast?” he challenged them all. “‘Tis true that my kind has fought many wars, shedding blood across countless battlefields in forging our race and nation! But we are not defined by that alone!

“We have built great cities, just like you! We have fought and defeated mighty foes, just like you! We have magic and culture! We have traditions, myths, and heroes! And just like you, we are individuals with our own personal hopes and dreams—not soulless demons who mindlessly obey the Empire’s edicts!

“We can be kind! We can love! We can cherish! And yes, we can even form deep and abiding friendships!” I couldn’t help but feel a great swell of pride at his words, so fervently delivered, though ‘tis certain his next ones gave me severe pause:

“The Empire may have forgotten this—forgotten what gryphons are supposed to be, but I have not! For I am what our race and kingdom can be—a warrior and an artist! One who creates and not just destroys!A creature who will spill the blood of his enemies, but not of innocents! A being who values warrior skill and personal honor above all!

“A being who is no greater a friend—” he turned and saluted the Captain of the Guard with his bloodied but intact scimitar, who returned the respect with a wing and a very pleased smile on his face “—And no fiercer a foe!”

He then brandished his blade and charged Thunderbolt again at speeds no gryphon should have been capable of, especially for all the burns and other injuries he had taken, leaving me wondering again what in the name of my Ancestors Captain Typhoon had done to him.

Ignoring the impossibility of his actions, another rapid-fire exchange of blows from blades, beaks, talons and hooves followed, with blood and sweat spattering and sparks flying from metal in every direction. In truth, I wasn’t sure if my own well-madeblade could have taken the punishment Gavian’s was, leaving me wondering if the ponies had further enchanted it over and above the Raven norm.

What I had no doubt about was that I had absolutely no chance of withstanding the punishment Gavian Ravenoff was dealt or was dealing, as both he and Thunderbolt were badly battered and bleeding. They had to be near the end of their endurance, yet neither gave any ground to the other. At least, not until Gavian got inside his enemy’s guard and landed a hard strike with the blunt back edge of his blade to Thunderbolt’s shoulders.

The hit to the vulnerable flight muscles caused Thunderbolt to gasp and his wings to seize as the crowd groaned in sympathy, and Gavian took advantage by knocking him earthward with a second strike. It shattered one of Thunderbolt’s damaged wingblades and sent a spray of metal shards into his flank, with the larger fragments falling right through the cloud surface to rain down on the mountain slope below.

Once again, I thought the fight was finished. But before Gavian could deliver a final blow to his opponent’s now-exposed and vulnerable left side, Thunderbolt rolled with a quick gust of wind to slash upwards with his other blade, connecting with Gavian’s torso and carving a furrow half an inch deep before Gavian got his scimitar in the way. He winced and hissed sharply as the two then separated, each looking barely able to stand as they staggered back from the other, clutching at their latest wounds.

“Give up!” an increasingly injured and ragged Thunderbolt ordered, now visibly struggling to remain standing. “Don’t you understand, Gavian Ravenoff? You can’t win because you can’t overcome the power of my hate! I can tell you’re weakening and won’t last much longer! For surviving this long against me, I grant you the honor of a quick death! So enough of this! Surrender and accept your fate!” he demanded far too shrilly, and methinks he was fooling nopony, between his shaking form and lessened electrical charge.

“I can’t win, demon? Then attack!” a visibly hurting but still defiant Gavian invited, detaching his scabbard and resheathing his sword in front of him as he hovered, then alighting on the ground and going into a two-legged pouncing crouch. “You say your hate gives you power? I say ‘tis a poisoned blade that cuts your bonds to your own friends! But mayhap I misspeak! So if you truly believe in it, then strike me down with it! Use all of it against me!”

From his hunched bipedal posture, with his talons flexed against his scabbard and sword hilt whilst his wings were held at an upward angle above him, I knew his intention instantly—’twas the stance for the Coiled Cobra, a rapid-draw assassin strike known to Raven blade arts. It must have been taught to him by Swift Strike, whom I can only guess knew it from his studies—Owl dossiers said he had a fascination for them and practiced them in gryphon form frequently.

That is correct yet again. And ‘twould seem, therefore, that the Office of Owls knew far more about me than I would have liked. —Swift Strike

I knew it well myself, having used it in the past. Though designed primarily to slay an unwary enemy instantly from the shadows, it could also be used to cut down a charging foe, turning their own attack against them. It did this by ensuring they couldn't dodge the sudden strike for being unable to arrest their own momentum, which also gave the blade the added force necessary to slice right through their armor.

The timing had to be perfect as the window of opportunity in such a scenario was very narrow, but the technique used the leverage of the scabbard and the strength stored in a coiled spine coupled with a strong downbeat of the wings. Correctly executed, the combination of these elements allowed a swordsgryphon to draw their blade in a blindingly fast slash—enough, mayhap, for Gavian to end both the fight and a weakened Thunderbolt’s life with one final, unblockable blow.

Methinks Thunderbolt knew it too, as for the first time, I spotted genuine worry and wariness in his eyes as he saw the stance and recognized the intent, but he worked up some bravado anyway. “You dare try to beat me with that? And you think me insane?”

To Slay a Demon

“I dare, demon! ‘Tis certain we are both exhausted, so let this exchange decide it! Speed against speed! Power against power! If your hate enables you to overcome me, then prove it! Strike me down with it! Do you hear me, demon? Hit me with everything you have!” he goaded, gripping his sword and hilt all the tighter, crouching low and ready to release his strike in an instant.

Backed against the proverbial wall, methinks Thunderbolt sensed the danger but still took the bait. “So be it! To be this demon is my destiny! My hate makes me invincible! I cannot lose to you! I will not lose to you!” Thunderbolt pawed at the ground to work up some static from the cloud, his voice wavering and confidence clearly shaken as, despite his visibly weakened appearance, he flapped up a powerful tailwind; the gale ripping a few of Gavian’s loosened chest and head feathers free though he stood fast within it.

“For the sake of my fallen friends, I will not lose!” With those mantra-like words, he launched his final attack, boosting his speed with his wind as he charged his young gryphon opponent head-on.

But Gavian did not move from his spot despite the danger; all his muscles tensing further for a final strike. To my admitted agony, and ‘tis certain that of a weak-legged Firefly as well, he waited until Thunderbolt was nearly upon him and his head was perchance only an instant away from decapitation before he acted.

I regret I missed the exact moment that Gavian so explosively drew his blade, as ‘twas simply too fast for even a skilled and experienced swordsgryphon like me to follow; I only knew it happened when I heard yet another sharp sound of impacting metal followed by a cry of equine pain. It was accompanied by a blindingly bright electrical flash that illuminated the full arc of the strike, searing an elongated crescent shape into my vision.

I barely had time to register it all before a series of lightning shards and a broken-off wingblade came flying outwards, forcing nearby pegasi and bat-ponies to dodge them. The latter spun dangerously and traveled a hundred yards before it embedded itself halfway into the airship’s hull, whilst the former bounced randomly before dissipating; one even found and struck the large clock that sat atop City Hall, freezing its mechanism.

It stopped at 10:04 PM.

The static crackle of Thunderbolt’s electrical attacks ceased, but a massive eruption of vaporized cloud and sulfuric smoke then shrouded the scene, so we couldn’t see what happened for several seconds.

A great silence fell over the crowd; methinks not a single being was breathing as we waited for the victor to emerge. And when the fog and acrid electrical smoke had cleared, I beheld a sight I never dreamt I would after the events of four days earlier:

Thunderbolt, the lethal Lightning Demon and pitiless slayer of gryphons, lay beaten and broken beneath gryphon talons, baring a bloody gash across his barrel which had cut right through his blocking wingblade and even the chest latch of his harness!

“Submit,” a still-upright Gavian ordered in a shaky voice; his wings flared for bipedal balance and his blade grasped by both sets of talons. He was standing over his fallen opponent, holding his scimitar in a classic side stance at a downward angle with its tip trembling at Thunderbolt’s throat; methinks whatever Blackbird—a title given by gryphons to expert metalworkers—had made it had forged it superbly to come through this ordeal intact. “’Twas the trial of combat, and you lost!” he informed his fallen foe as the Captain of the Guard flared his wings and took flight off the deck.

“Just kill me…” Thunderbolt ordered in a raspy voice as he coughed up blood. He was barely able to move for all his injuries, including the deep chest wound and shattered ribs he’d just suffered. “For I cannot change. If you spare me, I will always be a threat. For as long as I live, the demon within me cannot die.”

“As you wish.” A faltering Gavian pulled himself up one final time, starting to shake again; whatever the Captain had done to him, its effects were waning quickly. “Tis your destiny to be a demon of death who kills my kindred without conscience or mercy? Then ‘tis my destiny… to slay that demon!” he spun his Raven scimitar once and reversed his grip in the process so it pointed downwards, its tip poised at Thunderbolt’s chest.

“I am Gavian Ravenoff! Loyal son and gryphon warrior! I am also the victor of this duel! Now DIE, demon!” he announced as I silently urged him to do it; to end the life of this horrifically powerful and evil creature.

“No!” Fell Flight and her one-eyed comrade shouted in pleading tones as the Captain of the Guard swooped in, deploying his own blades for the first time; Gavian Ravenoff either did not hear them or did not care as he raised his blade overhead with the intention of plunging it in Thunderbolt’s heart. But at the apex of his upswing, he stopped and looked up in surprise.

’Tis Gavian speaking now. At this point, Mother, I feel I must add something to this account. I remember precious little about the fight directly, and mercifully little of the aftermath yet to come. In truth, I cannot say if I heard the cries of Fell Flight and Blindside, as I simply do not recall. I must reluctantly guess that I did not, for my world was entirely limited to myself and Thunderbolt at that moment.

But there is one thing I do recall clearly from the very end. I have never told anypony about this, because I wasn’t sure ‘twas real or some hallucination caused by blood loss or the waning effects of the Captain’s technique. I also wasn’t sure what ponies—or gryphons—would think of me if I told it.

Perchance ‘twas because I got dangerously close to death from sheer overexertion and the accumulation of injuries I suffered, with my pounding heart starting to skip beats within my chest. But in that instant I stood poised to slay Thunderbolt, I looked up to see… not one, but two groups of ghostlike figures surrounding me!

One set were ponies wearing Aerial Corps uniforms—Thunderbolt’s lost friends, I somehow knew, begging me to spare him so he could yet salvage his soul. I told them with my thoughts that I had to kill the demon, to which they replied that I already had, and they thanked me. Then a group of gryphons came forward—farmers, Auxiliary Guard soldiers, and civilians that Thunderbolt had slain in the course of his rampages.

They told me that I had done a great deed. That I was worthy of my race and blade. That I had brought them peace. And that I had made not just my Ancestors, but the gods themselves proud. ‘Twas this memory as much as my victory that would sustain and eventually restore me in the painful days ahead, and thus, I do find myself believing in a greater power and purpose, whether you call it Harmony or something else.

I fervently believe now that what I said back then was true—that somehow, I was destined to slay that demon, and looking back? It could never have come to pass without all the unhappy ordeals I suffered before that, for where they led me and the friends they brought me.

For all the experience and training and mentors they eventually gained me, raising my potential to the point that Captain Typhoon could lift me the rest of the way.

I have more to say, but methinks I will leave it for now, until our surprising writer’s story is finished.

—Gavian

I see. As ‘twould seem we all have ghost stories from the war, ‘tis only fitting that you share yours. And a very powerful one it is! I fear I cannot even begin to describe all the emotions I felt during the course of that battle, as noted by our perceptive but anonymous observer—fear and hope, love and hate, pity and pride all rolled up into ten short minutes that seemed when it was happening like an eternity.

But you did it, my brave and beloved son. Against all odds and my own wishes, you beat the unbeatable and succeeded in slaying the demon within him. His road back to soldier and struggle to reclaim his soul would be a rough one, but ‘twas at least a journey he could now begin.

But that is a story for later. Until then, let this difficult tale be finished, for ‘twould seem our guest writer has yet more revelations to share.

—Firefly

Choices and Consequences
[Captain America: The Winter Soldier Soundtrack - End of the Line]

Cloudsdale
Central District Plaza near airship anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
2205 hours

I knew not what was happening as Gavian Ravenoff hesitated, his blade poised to make the final strike but not delivering it.

“Our race is in your talons, young warrior…” I said softly under my breath, mentally screaming at him to do it as the crowd waited; nopony saying anything or moving to stop him. But still he did not strike, and as more moments passed, I realized he might not.

I didn’t understand—why didn’t he do it? Thunderbolt was a threat to all gryphons; one not even the Ravens could slay! This demon had to die here and now, or ‘twas certain our race and nation would never be safe!

And then he no longer had the chance as the Captain of the Guard intervened, blocking his sword with a Royal Guard-issue wingblade, which tended to be stronger and heavier than Corps ones. “Hold, my young and valiant friend. Let him go. To kill him now serves no purpose, for you have already defeated the demon within him.”

Gavian’s eyes focused on him with difficulty. “C-Captain?” he recognized tentatively, his shaking getting worse. “I… he…” He suddenly looked confused.

I knew not what was happening, but nor could I ignore the opportunity placed before me. As the crowd watched spellbound, no eyes were on me, so I reached into my janitor vest to draw one of the few weapons I kept with me—the small double-tubed blowgun and a series of even smaller darts kept in a pouch.

I had eighteen of them, in three sets. One set of six was colored blue and tipped with sleeping powder. Another set was green-tipped with a form of truth potion; the same kind that my comrades were likely slipping into drinks. But the third, red-tipped kind, was what I went for, swiftly loading one, and then a second, into the tubes.

In that moment, time stood still for me as I held the blowgun in my pony hooves. In that moment, I had both the Lightning Demon and the Captain of the Royal Guard in my sights; by fate or by happenstance, ‘twas within my power to slay them both. The Owl-issue poison in the darts was quick-acting and quite lethal; with but two quick puffs of air, I could avenge the loss of my team and all the dead suffered at Cloudsdale, as well as cripple the pony defense further.

But despite his high rank and odd abilities, Typhoon was not as important to me as Thunderbolt, who I aimed at first as he lay broken, buried halfway in the cloud. I knew I could end the existence of this demon of wind and lightning who could take on and defeat entire centuries of Imperial soldiers.

A demon who, by his own admission, would slay every last member of my race if given the chance!

But there would be consequences for killing the pair, and I was under no illusions about my odds for escape afterwards. The feathered blowdart tail would be instantly visible against its targets, and the guards present would know they had come from the crowd. The Black Lance named Swift Strike would certainly recognize their origin, and guess immediately that there were Ravens present.

A thorough search of both the crowd and city would result, and perchance even that Celestial Guardspony unicorn, who Owl dossiers said was very powerful and wielded an extremely exotic art, would scan the area with his aura and find me by the magical traces the transformation potion left, followed shortly by the rest of my team as they combed all Cloudsdale for us.

We were skilled fighters and masters of stealth. But ‘twas certain not even we could hide for very long or fight our way free against an alerted populace, all out for our blood. ‘Twas certain to me that I would be quickly discovered and perish, followed shortly by my entire team.

But ‘twas also too good an opportunity to pass up, I then reasoned. For surely Typhoon’s and especially Thunderbolt’s life was worth mine?

Worth all my team’s lives together?

Worth the intelligence I had been sent to collect on the strange shields and lightning they had used so effectively against us?

Worth the news that the thestrals were in fact sheltering and supplying the city even as they publicly proclaimed neutrality?

Worth the news that the EAS Loyalty was present, thus implying an alliance between Equestria and Thestralslovakia already existed?

‘Twas then something else occurred to me—that ‘twas said to be the failure of two Ravens to capture a shapeshifting spy that brought about the early start of the war. Here and now, it could be my failure of judgement that would bring the bat-ponies into the war early if we were caught here, thus suggesting to them that the Empire already knew they were harboring Cloudsdale and would wreak retribution for it later.

I knew not if that would happen. But ‘twas certain I could not take the chance. ‘Twas simply no way to know how the thestrals would take my presence. No way to know what repercussions ‘twould have in the days and weeks ahead.

The more I thought about it, the easier the decision became, as the importance of staying hidden combined with the information my team bore quickly exceeded even the death of the Captain of the Guard and the Lightning Demon himself. It must be understood by those reading that I did not care about my life at that moment, which I considered forfeit for simply surviving the earlier attack. For one could get lucky once, Ravens learn quickly, but rarely a second time.

Yet again, the Lances know the same. —Swift Strike

All that mattered to me was completing my mission and preserving our tenuous peace with the bat-ponies, whilst returning critically-needed intelligence to my side.

And as for Gavian Ravenoff?

Traitor or no, I found I simply could not hate him after what I had witnessed. Whatever his motives and whatever the Captain of the Guard had done to him, this young sky gryphon who had somehow beaten the bane of my race in a battle of both blades and wits had earned the highest of honor in my eyes.

Indeed, he had done what none of us could, acting not as an agent of the Empire, but rather, standing in the stead of all gryphons in that duel. And ‘twas perchance then that I made an important distinction and realized something.

That a gryphon could oppose the Empire and still be a gryphon.

That a gryphon could even side with our enemies, yet still have more power and honor than many a soldier or assassin I had known.

My decision made, I lowered my blowgun just as Gavian lowered his sword. “Very well. For the Captain and for my friends, I will not kill you,” Gavian finally told Thunderbolt as he stepped off him, now visibly struggling to stay standing. “‘Tis been enough death in this city, and I refuse to add another.

“‘Twould seem, therefore, that you are to live with your defeat, and try to salvage your soul… if you can!” he pronounced as he turned back towards the Loyalty where his friends and adoptive mother awaited.‘Twas then that either the Captain’s technique wore off or his injuries caught up with him as he took but one step towards them before he dropped his sword and crumpled to the cloud surface, toppling forward and then falling on his side as his pony friends rushed to his aid.

The two combatants were then surrounded and tended by healers, blocking my view and blowdarts, and thus my brief but tantalizing opportunity to take the lives of both Typhoon and Thunderbolt passed unused.

Praying I had not just made a grave mistake, I stowed the blowgun and drifted away along with the rest of the very subdued ponies around me as the crippled young sky gryphon was quickly tended and carried inside the airship, badly debilitated by both his injuries and what I can only assume were the aftereffects of the Captain’s technique. Thunderbolt, too, was picked up and carried inside, by Fell Flight and her half-blind Corps comrade.

The duel was done, and ‘twas time, therefore, to complete my mission—to escape this cloud city with our precious cargo of information intact and deliver it to the Prelate. But I decided then that I would not report the duel, only that I’d learned Thunderbolt was gravely wounded, and ‘twas a secret I kept even from my brethren for the next thirty years.

Until just now, as I put these words on parchment. Methinks I never dreamt I would survive not just the war but the three decades hence, for few Ravens ever live to a ripe old age. And yet, here I now stand, still in the role, albeit altered by the post-Empire order, which is one I find much more honorable and myself far more willing to serve.

Such days were unimaginable then, however, as the war for Equestria had just begun. A war my services would be needed in, and with Thunderbolt beaten, I found that—mayhap much as happened with Gavian himself—my fear was gone and fighting spirit was in large measure restored.

‘Twas an odd sense of redemption I felt, in fact. In part for Thunderbolt’s defeat coming at the talons of a gryphon, certainly, but more so for the fact he had fallen to a Raven technique and blade.

For even if the Ravens had been unable to directly defeat him, our weapons and tactics had. And all honor went to the one who wielded them; an unlikely gryphon champion whose speed and skill, courage and sheer strength of will were completely out of proportion to his small size and youth.

“Ancestors protect you, Gavian Ravenoff,” I whispered to nobody in particular as I departed on the strength of my pegasus wings, turning my attention back to the still-uncompleted parts of my team’s intelligence gathering tasks—I was already receiving a signal from my Raven comrades that a lead had been found on where to find the strange lightning and shields, pointing us towards a museum not far from me. “And thank you.”

And thus, do I come to the end of this tale. I thank Captain Firefly for the opportunity, but I must respectfully decline any further offers to write, as I cannot risk exposing myself or my organization any more than this. As for why I ultimately decided to share this story, ‘twas not the Captain’s appeal or even a subsequent talk with the former Lance named Swift Strike that swayed me.

‘Twas simply that I wished Gavian Ravenoff to know, all these years later, that he was not alone that day. That one gryphon knew of his feat—that one gryphon had witnessed his duel and his defeat of the Lightning Demon, standing silently with him in his greatest trial.

That one gryphon recognized his power and honor, and for the sake of all our race, silently rooted for him to win.

I know not how this will be received by him, but in the end, I simply did not wish to pass from this life without telling him. Perchance in revealing this secret, I may gain some catharsis for myself, and perchance he will gain greater acceptance for his restored citizenship in the former Empire by sharing it.

—“Orel Travina”

I thank you for this account, Orel Travina. I know not your real name, nor do I need to. All I do know is that it took courage and honor for you to come forward with this information, against all your experience and training. Fate brought you there to witness the duel, but ‘twas your difficult decision to reveal your presence that shed fresh light on it, and mayhap will help my son going forward as he plans his first trip to the Kingdom.

I could say more, but her final message was directed to you, Gavian. And thus, the final word in this chapter—and the entire book—is yours.

—Firefly

Thank you, Mother. You honor me as always, and congratulations on completing yet another volume in this magnum opus. Methinks you have captured the imagination of two races and nations with these writings, honoring all in the process.

But ‘tis not questions of honor that hold my attention at this moment. For as I read this in my home’s study whilst my wife helps my daughter with her schoolwork, I find myself at a loss. In truth, ‘tis certain I don’t know what to think right now.

Methinks part of me would have been happy for this information to never have been revealed. For now that it has been, ‘tis certain fresh scrutiny will fall upon me, and I wonder if I will earn enmity from certain ponies over it. For those inclined to think poorly of me over this, I urge you to keep reading into the next volume, as the story of me and Thunderbolt is far from finished.

On the other wing, part of me is glad to know that my feat was witnessed and recognized by another gryphon, even one I would have considered a mortal enemy at the time. So upon reflection, methinks I will write this eagless back, entrusting my letter to Swift Strike. ‘Twill be a private correspondence, however.

Whether pony or gryphon, readers must understand that what the Captain did to me and what I became ‘tis an experience that still haunts me, both for the ascended state I reached and the agony I was in after. I did indeed learn my full potential that night, but also why ‘tis so dangerous to attain it—as the Captain said, it came at great cost, both physical and mental.

‘Tis a level of ability I strove towards after but was never able to reach again. ‘Tis still tantalizing to me, that taste of my purest power even for the painful price I paid after. For those few short minutes, when I fought and defeated not just Thunderbolt but the demons who had possessed him, methinks I fulfilled every gryphon teen’s greatest fantasy.

For those few short minutes, methinks I was the greatest warrior in the world.

—Gavian Ravenoff
Headmaster
Celestial Art Academy
Canterlot

“All the adversity I’ve had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me... You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.” —Walt Disney

Author's Note

Well, folks—given the mixed reaction the last chapter garnered, I admit I was concerned about this one, knowing I had to absolutely nail it to address reader concerns and make sure this didn't go off the rails. My prereaders say I've succeeded in grand fashion, and I hope all of you agree as well!

A few remarks follow that will be spoilered for those who don't want any hints of what's ahead, but I do feel compelled to answer some concerns raised by comments on the previous chapter:

To begin with, this is certainly a turning point for Thunderbolt, but only in the sense that he just hit rock bottom. Everything will not automatically be better for him, as he's got a lot of both physical and mental healing to do; a lot to process and a long climb ahead. Gavian's ordeal is not over either, as the ending implied; and there will yet be an angry reckoning between Typhoon and Firefly for the former using Gavian like this, as well as between Fell Flight and Firefly for the latter believing Thunderbolt is an irredeemable killer.

Nevertheless, I hope everyone enjoyed this for what it was and tried to be—arguably the most epic duel to date in the story. I tried to make it as much of wits as blades, and believe I succeeded. My greatest thanks go to AJ_Aficionado and Denim_Blue, for hitting this quickly and quite thoroughly. There are incorporated suggestions from both peppered all through the chapter, too numerous for me to flag individually but all welcome. There's no doubt my stories and chapters are best when they're a collaborative effort, and both this and the previous chapter (where AJA saved me from a huge mistake) was an excellent example of it.

As a major denouement has been reached, and was honestly quite difficult to write, Firefly may go on hiatus for a bit from my end. It's time I shift gears to work on Nightmare Night, but the story may continue as both Denim_Blue and AJ_Aficionado are working on Changeling and Highborne guest chapters, respectively.

Second Offensive: 1 - Questions of Command

Greetings to all my little ponies and friends of Equestria alike. it is my honor and privilege to begin the third book of this massive undertaking, seeking to recount the rise of Firefly and birth of the Bolt Knights in the context of the Great Pony/Gryphon War.

'Tis not by choice, but by necessity. Whilst Captain Firefly sees both her adopted son and firstborn daughter off to the Gryphon Kingdom, the former traveling with his family between school sessions and the latter traveling alone to join a private expeditionary force sent to secure a remote gryphon colony, ‘twill fall to me to pick up the pen in their absence. In truth, ‘twas offered to another, but he has declined, saying that his station and reputation means that whatever he says would be suspect. And that his words would simply not have the same authority mine did.

He further notes that though he has followed these works “with some mild interest”, he sees no reason for him to appear in them yet “beyond simple ego,” which he will not indulge given he has both royal duties to attend and a sword school to run. ‘Tis true that his responsibilities on both fronts consume most of his waking hours, though mayhap he will make time later to contribute.

I still play chess games with him weekly, where we have discussed this work and his potential role in it at some length. For now, he declines to pen any entries, though he wishes me to at least say that he considers his occasionally controversial role in the war to be a simple question of royal duty—which he hastens to add upon reading this 'tis not to say he sought no glory for himself or his line in it.

By happenstance or by design, he would gain it, but at the start of the war, he was neither soldier nor commander. With his sire’s death only sixteen months past, the title of Crown Prince was now his. And though the role might have been but ceremonial most of the time, there was now a distinct chance that I would fall and he might well ascend to be ruler of all Equestria.

Signed,

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria
Canterlot

Canterlot Castle, East Grounds
Canterlot
September 4th, 1139 AC
1200 hours

Visitors to Canterlot Castle are oft shown all but the eastern wing, which contains my private quarters and ‘tis reserved exclusively for my own use. ‘Tis my sanctuary and retreat from the pressures of palace life, as well as being the place from where I normally raise the sun.

Technically, ‘twas reserved for the entire royal family, which would have once included my sister Luna. But with her lost to me, the only other pony who was allowed in there other than a few trusted maids and advisors was Prince Blueblood.

He, too, had his own quarters there, and though he deferred to me most of the time, he made use of the garden spaces to practice his magic and sword art, or hold an occasional private party when I was not present.

Our interactions were generally short, as royal duties kept us both busy and I admittedly had some mild distaste for him at that point in time, but we had extended meetings every week where we normally discussed various matters over lunch and a game of chess.

With the outbreak of war, I had initially canceled that week’s meeting, explaining that the renewed gryphon offensive and reestablishing our broken chain of command continued to demand my full attention. But he replied by noting that “even you require rest” and that “routines must still be observed in wartime, for the sake of appearances if nothing else.” Methinks I would have still declined, but then he said “he had an offer to make” and an important request of me “that concerns my role in this conflict.”

Methinks that piqued my interest somewhat—I couldn’t imagine what offer he could make or what role in the conflict he would wish, given he had no military training or fighting skill outside of the unusual unicorn sword art he had pursued.

A sword art I arrived at midday to find he was practicing before our lunch, wearing fencing attire with several targets set up and his sword wielded in his aura.

The Crown Prince

“Prince Blueblood,” I acknowledged my honorary nephew with a nod. ‘Tis worth noting he was in fact the fourteenth Blueblood; directly descended as all his ancestors were from the original Blueblood, whose title passed only to the firstborn son. His cutie mark was the same as all his forebears, earned by successfully navigating the castle maze to reach his family monument in a feat that ‘tis far harder than it sounds. “You wished to speak with me?”

“Good afternoon, Auntie.” He greeted me with the informal title he used for me and a low bow, dipping his sword as well as his forequarters. “Auntie” was simply a form of address he and all the Bluebloods used, shorthoof for the many-Great Grandaunt I actually was to him. “Yes, if you wouldst be willing to indulge me first. I will be with you as soon as I’ve completed my training, and the chefs have completed our meal. I have asked them to make our personal favorites.”

“We are supposed to be conserving food, Prince Blueblood. And why can you not train at the academy?” I challenged him, wondering where his head attendant was.

“Because they are starting the mass training of unicorn soldiers—a pointless endeavor in my opinion, given their arts require a level of power and focus few possess—so the advanced classes are canceled. Between that and the initial attacks, I have redoubled my personal training efforts since the war began,” he replied as he limbered himself. “I will not be caught off guard again should another assassin come calling.”

“Another assassin?” I had received a brief message from the PSD that the Prince was safe on the first day of war, but nothing else. “Then you were—“

“Yes,” he confirmed without a hint of fear or any other emotion. “My own majordomo and a PSD mare turned on me. The former tried to slay me in my sleep and the latter came at me with her blades, throwing and slashing. So I killed them both,” he said matter-of-factly.

I blinked hard. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked coldly as he continued his warm-up routine. “They forfeited their lives the instant they turned traitor, and as my servants, ‘twas their duty to sacrifice themselves for me anyway. Their fate was well-earned, so I will not mourn them, and neither should you.”

“They were under mind control, Prince Blueblood,” I admonished him with a frown. “They were not responsible for what they did.”

He gave me a level look. “So out of some misplaced sympathy, I should not have slain them? I should have allowed them to succeed in their attempts to slay me? Or perchance you think I could have somehow spared them when I knew not if more traitors were coming or if they could detonate a bomb on their bodies?” he said in a contemptuous tone; one I would have reprimanded any other pony for taking in my presence.

“I regret nothing, Auntie, and methinks I know enough of military matters to say that such ridiculous notions of compassion or mercy will lose this war. Methinks far more killing lies ahead for both of us, and I for one intend to be ready!”

I wondered idly if he would hold to such sentiments if ‘twere my sister there before him, abandoning Canterlot along with all its populace—including him—to a fiery fate in order to crush the gryphons, before returning with the entirety of the Equestrian armed forces to fight the dragons. But I said nothing, taking the opportunity to observe his well-practiced drills and techniques.

His boast about being ready was not an idle one. Much to my surprise, over the past eleven years he had become an avid and very advanced student of the La Verdadera Destreza unicorn sword style, whose masters did not make exceptions for the grueling training and advancement exams even for the Crown Prince of Equestria.

Known as the One True Form of the Sponiard sword arts—a title that was, to be certain, claimed by many rival schools—he had even commissioned his own custom Montante longsword blade at very great expense to channel his attacks, which he had christened the Hojazul in a slight mistranslation of blue blade into Sponish. But even when informed of it, he decided to keep the title anyway, saying he simply preferred the way it rolled off the tongue.

Like most unicorn blade arts, the One True Form was characterized by using the sword to channel spells to various effects, both offensive and defensive, dramatically strengthening the blade and enabling it to slice through armor or obstructions on the one hoof whilst rendering its bearer much more impervious to enemy attacks on the other. But what made the True Form technique unique from other unicorn sword arts was two main differences.

The first, more minor one was that instead of the practitioner staying still as their aura manipulated the blade, the One True Form required the user to move with the blade, in the belief that adding a component of physical movement in concert with the magical one enhanced both.

That aside, the art taught proper form, parries and strikes like any sword school would, and the Prince indeed began his workout by practicing a series of them. As I watched, he wielded his sword skillfully against the target dummies arrayed before him, leaving him already breathing harder and starting to sweat as he completed his initial training sequence; cutting, cleaving and occasionally outright decapitating the pony and griffon-like figures before him.

Warrior Within

But the second and far more major difference was La Verdadera Destreza’s true difficulty and claim to glory—the special sword strikes that enabled it to tap into powerful magicks that were well beyond the capabilities of most unicorns to cast. They consisted of a crescendo of attack techniques characterized by a succession of increasingly complex geometric patterns; ones that utilized very potent but extraordinarily tricky runic spellcasting.

‘Twas here where the heart of the art lay, and why ‘twas so incredibly hard to learn, let alone master. Most runic practitioners had the time to make their designs perfect and cast their spells from them at leisure, but the One True Form required runes to be rapidly etched into the air itself with the tip of the sword, which, channeling the magic of its wielder, would leave a glowing trail behind that lasted but a few fleeting moments.

In order for the techniques to be used and the strikes to succeed, you had to perfect the drawing of the runic shapes required to channel the spells in that short time, and do so flawlessly.

‘Twas a feat that was hard to master even for simple runes, let alone the more complicated ones that required ever more speed, focus, and precision. But the Prince was well along in his training by then, and as I watched, he went through each special technique in turn, starting with the simplest such strike but increasing in complexity and lethality with each level attained:

The circle-and-thrust Cone Cleave was the most basic form. It could both parry a strike and then pierce any shield with a magic-aided thrust. Its rune was but a simple circle, but in order for it to work, the curving arc drawn from the sword tip had to be perfect or the strike would backfire.

The three-point Triad Technique was likewise designed to both shield from ranged attacks and then rapidly penetrate an opponent’s defenses with a magic beam fired from the sword tip, enabling the unicorn wielding it to strike an enemy from range like an archer from behind a castle battlement.

The four-point Diamond Draw from an initially sheathed blade formed a sharp-edged shield around the caster; one meant to defend instantly at close quarters against an ambush or assassination attempt and then allow for a rapid counterattack. ‘Twas this I assumed the Prince had used to thwart the attempt on his life, mayhap along with his next technique:

The five-point Star Strike could cut down multiple opponents with not just the sword itself, but charged bladelike waves of magic emanating from the steel. ‘Twas said to be excellent at clearing a room and only exceptionally strong counterspells or steel could deflect it.

The slashing six-point Hewing Hex was an even more powerful version of the Star Strike. ‘Twas considered the mark of an advanced student as it could carve up an entire mob of attackers in a matter of moments, and only the most powerful of shield spells or enchanted armor could defend against it.

I did not approve in the least of the seven-point Septasnare, which channeled a form of dark magic and had been known to corrupt or even consume those who cast it incorrectly outside the presence of the art's unicorn masters, called Maestros.

But its mastery was an important milestone for an advanced student, the current Maestro Supremo of the Art had insisted to me when I attended one of Blueblood’s rank advancement tests, as it required great focus and self-discipline to cast correctly but not be overcome by it. And my greatest grand-nephew indeed had both by now, as neither his focus nor the purity of his power wavered even as a series of black and ugly obsidian spikes erupted out of the ground in front of him in a spreading fanlike pattern.

The black magic blocks the technique produced were more ethereal than real. But they were far from harmless; they could either immobilize all enemies within their paralyzing snares or simply destroy their very spirits, rapidly eroding both their ability and will to fight from within.

Then there was the indiscriminate and immensely damaging eight-point Octovolley. Electrically charged with rune-generated elemental lightning, it acted like a volley of scattershot bolts fired from a line of storm clouds and, like its Corps equivalent, could lay waste to an entire charging regiment at close range.

To wield it, you had to rapidly inscribe a very intricate eight-pointed runic form into the air that was well beyond the ability of most students. But even accomplishing that unlikely feat was not enough to make you a master. For the only way to earn the title of Maestro and the black sash that came with it…

Taking a deep breath to center himself, he faced away from the castle into the garden as a bead of sweat rolled down the left side of his face. He then held his sword vertically in the air for a moment, charging it with a succession of spells. Having readied himself as much as he could, he then attempted the supremely difficult but utterly deadly ten-point Decadragon.

‘Twas so-named because if successful, it tapped elemental fire and channeled it into a dragon-like gout of fierce flame that could rival the real thing, exceeding anything a gryphon mage could generate by incinerating all it encountered as it reached out to a distance of nearly two hundred paces. But the speed and precision required to create it in enough time was almost impossible to attain, and for all his skill and practice, Blueblood was only able to get halfway through it before the lines he drew skewed and the runes vanished with only a brief puff of smoke.

The sword slipped from his magical grasp and fell to the ground with a clatter, its metal hot enough despite the failed attack to burn the short-cut grass of the garden. “By your Sun, Auntie, I still can’t do it!” he announced in frustration as he slammed his hooves down on the ground hard, sweat glistening on his forehead as he found his magic momentarily spent.

“Despite that, I offer my highest compliments, my dear Prince,” I told him sincerely, not offering to help him up as I knew he hated being given advice or assistance, particularly on matters he considered his own to deal with.

In truth, methinks I knew of several possible ways he could yet achieve the technique, but I held my tongue. Not just because I knew ‘twould not be appreciated, but because one of the requirements of passing the Maestro test was that the student found their own solution to the seemingly insurmountable obstacle the Decadragon presented.

Which was not to say I could not offer him some well-earned encouragement. “‘Twould seem you’ve broken through your previous barriers and are now progressing rapidly. You’ve improved your sword skill considerably just over the past twelve months. ‘Twas only a year ago you could barely manage the Star Strike. But now you can do the Octovolley with relative ease,” I reminded him.

“Thank you, Auntie. But the ability to make the ten-point attack still eludes me!” He sighed as his slightly nervous servants attended him, cleaning him up whilst quickly stripping him of his sweaty gear. “I simply cannot forge the runes fast enough and know not how to create them any quicker!

“’Tis a pity—I would love to turn the master-level attacks on those vile beasts orbiting so arrogantly overhead,” he said with a nod upwards to where the menacing shapes of the Kalator clan were visible through my shield and the dark smoke beyond it. The latter was a poisonous veil that shrouded the sun and kept the light level over the city reduced to a sickly yellow pall, like an eternal twilight had settled over the capital. But four days into the siege, my power had not yet dropped appreciatively, but ‘twas certain to me I would start feeling its slow ebb within a matter of days.

But as there was little I could do about it for the time being, 'twas little point in dwelling on it. “As would I,” I agreed as lunch was served; a decadent mixture of toasted oats and cream-covered peaches topped with a minor amount of molasses for me, whilst the Prince had his favorite paella de verduras with a side of plantains—his interest in his sword art also extended to the history, food and customs from the land it came—and a mango mimosa.

He shared the latter with me, taking pains to pour a glass for both of us but making sure mine came first. He was always big on protocol, even back then, but ‘twas not a one-way street with him. As lower classes and ranks would serve him, he would in turn serve me, who was the only being other than perchance his art’s Maestros he recognized as his superior.

“But what you have would not be enough against a full-grown dragon. For methinks even the Maestro Supremo herself would be hard-pressed to bring down a single adult drake or dragoness, let alone an entire clan of them,” I pointed out, still uncertain how I was going to ultimately deal with them or fulfill my vow to slay the Dragon Lord himself.

“And methinks you are incorrect, Auntie,” he sniffed as he took a towel in his aura and patted it to his forehead, then accepted his robe and his mimosa, taking his place opposite me. “For ‘tis certain to me that were the original Maestro Supremo, the great Hoja Benevolente herself still amongst the living, she could indeed have challenged them using her untaught arts.

“But ‘tis said she only passed on her most powerful techniques to her second-ranked master, who in turn only passed them on to his, and so it goes to this day. In fact, ‘tis rumored there are no less than seven unseen master techniques of blade and runic magic. Techniques of such incredible reach and power that not even a dragon could stand against them. Techniques that not even you know of,” he finished almost wistfully.

“Perchance ‘tis true…” I offered only half-placatingly, for on the face of it, he could be correct. ‘Twas indeed rumored that the One True Form possessed even more intricate and powerful runic constructs whose reach and effects went far beyond even the dreaded Decadragon, but no documentation on them existed; ‘twas said, as the Prince stated, that they were only passed from older to younger Maestros when the former deemed the latter worthy. And of this moment, only three Maestros existed. “So what did you wish to offer me?”

“My services,” he answered simply. “But as I am sure you have not eaten much more than simple fare since this barbaric business began, let us sit down to a properly civilized meal before discussing it over a game of chess...”

I will pause my efforts here, as one thing has not changed in the past thirty years, and ‘tis certain never will—royal duties, including a long-planned diplomatic meeting, require my attention this day, though at least that meeting is genuinely looked forward to far more than most.

But more on that later—much more, methinks. For now, I shall pass the quill back to my beloved friend and Captain. Before she left to escort her offspring on the first leg of the journey, with the group departing from the General Squall Line Memorial Airship Field outside of Aerial Corps HQ, Captain Firefly left a new section of her own behind.

I offer it up here as an interlude before I continue my tale, as I’m sure readers are more interested to know the aftermath of Gavian’s duel with Thunderbolt.

—Celestia Daybringer

One thing life has taught me is that difficult partings can happen in both war and peace.

The former are all too often the final goodbyes to comrades lost, whilst the latter are seeing beloved foals and cubs off to unknown fates. So I do this day, awaiting the scheduled departure of my adopted son and eldest daughter, the former with his family but the latter traveling alone.

They will journey together by Equestrian airship, at least as far as the Canarian Maritimes where the only remaining gryphon colonies on this continent lay. And from there they will go their separate ways, as a private transport awaits Firehawk whilst one of the Kingdom’s naval airships will bring Gavian to his never-seen homeland and capital of Arnau, courtesy of the Queen herself.

Though I know in my head they are fully capable adults with plenty of combat action already under their wings, all my heart can see are the needy and helpless fledglings they once were, wanting to hold them close forever even as I know I must let them go to find their own way in this world.

‘Tis a trying time right now, not knowing when or even if they will both return, so methinks I will salve my nerves and sadness by continuing the story of Gavian’s duel with Thunderbolt into its immediate aftermath. ‘Twill be somewhat difficult without Gavian himself here to offer his insights, but as he has said repeatedly, his memories of it are quite sparse, and in his own words, “recalled only as if through a fever dream.”

‘Tis worth noting that, as our anonymous Raven hoped, much praise has been heaped upon Gavian from the gryphon side for the telling of this story, which was kept deliberately secret in wartime—except, of course, for what rumor might escape Cloudsdale from those who had seen it. ‘Twas kept quiet for several reasons, which some may guess but will become clear in due course.

For now, though, I wish to focus on the immediate aftermath, and an overdue confrontation which happened in its wake.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Aftermath

Captain’s Quarters
EAS Loyalty
Cloudsdale, Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
2250 hours

The duel was done. And ‘tis certain that at the moment I recognized Gavian’s incredibly unlikely victory over Thunderbolt, I was every bit as spent emotionally as he was physically.

We saw him announce his triumph and spare Thunderbolt at the Captain’s request, followed by him taking but a step towards us before passing out. His eyes rolling back in his head, he fell hard to the cloud surface from some combination of the accrued damage he suffered and the expiration of Typhoon’s astonishing technique.

Getting closer, the damage to his young form became even more apparent and ugly, leaving me no idea how he’d withstood it all. And ‘twas certain I felt every one of the burns and wounds I beheld on his painfully young body as keenly as if they were my own.

We rushed him to the Loyalty’s sickbay after that; the healers levitating him inside whilst Still Way stayed with him the whole way. ‘Tis certain the strain was very visible on his face as he struggled to maintain a healing aura on him in transit as I followed close behind with Swift Strike, though Blindside and Fell Flight were not present as they took an even more gravely injured Thunderbolt to a different room.

But I had no concern for his fate at that moment; only for Gavian’s. ‘Twas but a minute more before my son was laid down carefully on an operating table whilst the ship’s healers attended him, preparing for whatever surgery he might require. But their initial prognosis was not good, and I understood little else of their jargon discussing him beyond the long litany of his injuries they recited.

In the end, Still Way himself asked us to depart, promising me that with him present, Gavian was out of immediate danger. But he also told me that the intense emotions he could sense from me were clouding his technique, and the fewer distractions to his healing arts, the better.

I did so reluctantly, caring far less about Gavian’s victory than the ordeal he had endured and the horrific injuries he had suffered—an ordeal that was, in my view, unjustly forced upon him. In fact, ‘tis certain I was so distraught that I never even noticed Captain Typhoon, not realizing he was beside me until I heard his voice.

“Forgive my immediate absence, but I was speaking to your second about Thunderbolt. How is Gavian, Master Sergeant?” were the first words that left his lips.

My ire rising from his mere presence, I refused to meet his eyes whilst Swift Strike saluted and departed. He excused himself by saying he should stand guard by the entrance to the infirmary, perchance recognizing what was to come. Wishing to wound my Captain, I recited Gavian’s long list of injuries—injuries I held him directly responsible for.

“Broken ribs, a cracked skull, a great deal of internal bleeding, severe electrical burns on his chest and extremities, innumerable external injuries that range from bruises and cuts to deeper slashes... and ‘twould seem he tore every muscle in his right foreleg and shoulder when he made that Coiled Cobra assassin’sstrike at the end,” I recited bitterly, using the gryphon term for the quick-draw attack he had felled Thunderbolt with. Seeking additional targets for my wrath, I even found myself angry with Swift Strike for having taught such a technique—worse, a Raven technique—to him.

“His heartbeat is very irregular and he is unresponsive; he is also starting to run a high fever. Even with Still Way present, the healers say ‘tis possible he will not survive the night.”

“He will,” the Captain said with surety, seemingly unstung by my words. “From surviving abandonment to a fight with Thunderbolt himself, ‘tis certain his will to live is strong.”

“With all due respect, you don’t know that… sir,” I told him through clenched teeth, my anger surging again. “Anymore than you knew that Gavian would win the fight!”

He gave me a level look. “And just what are you saying, Master Sergeant?”

“Methinks you know perfectly well, Captain,” I bit back.

He stared at me for several seconds longer. “Very well. If you have something to say to me, I will listen. Follow me,” he invited, leading me back to Captain Shady’s office. When we arrived, he left me standing at attention before her desk as he walked around the back and sat down behind it, regarding me cooly. “You have ten minutes before I must depart for Hollow Shades. We are in private and this office is soundproofed. So say your piece, Guardsmare. And be quick about it”

Confronting the Captain

Even though I was ready to explode, I maintained just enough military bearing to not do so immediately. “Permission to speak freely, sir.” I stood at rigid but trembling attention.

“Granted.”

“Methinks ten minutes ‘tis far too little time for all I have to say, so for now, perchance you wouldst answer me honestly, sir—“ I paused to make sure the invective with which I pronounced the honorific was heard “—What chance did you truly give this whole sick and sordid scheme of yours of succeeding?”

He gave me a level look over pursed hooves. “Fifteen percent.”

“What?” My jaw fell open in shock—I had expected him to offer an outright lie on the order of eighty percent, or at least some passable equivocation like sixty percent; methinks I was not prepared for such a brutally honest assessment! “You risked my son’s life when you knew he had an eighty-five percent chance of dying?” Methinks I was so angry I was ready to challenge him to a death duel on the spot, even though I knew I had no chance.

“No. I mean there was a fifteen percent chance of Gavian both defeating Thunderbolt and redeeming him. Though the former condition has been met, the latter remains to be seen,” he corrected calmly despite my aggressive stance. In hindsight, he was indulging me to a very high degree at that moment, given he could have thrown me in the brig for threatening a superior and conduct unbecoming on the spot.

But he wasn’t done yet. “If you must know, I put the odds of Gavian actually winning the duel at about thirty percent, with the odds of him both surviving the fight and the aftereffects of my technique at around one chance in four.”

I stood speechless for a moment at the frank statement; had I been less angry I might well have admired the sheer size of his horse apples for telling me this to my face, regardless of whether I was his subordinate. “So you forced him to fight when you knew he had a seventy-five percent chance of dying!”

I was so enraged some small sparks started spontaneously arcing over me for the first time from my own still-undeveloped lightning affinity. For a single, fleeting moment, methinks I wanted badly to generate a lightning bolt on the spot as Thunderbolt could and fling it at him. But thankfully, given my Captain’s likely response, such was still well beyond my beginner abilities.

Despite the display, he didn’t move, though he watched me closely; in hindsight, methinks he was mentally preparing the strike he’d used to disable Thunderbolt for use against me as well if needed. “I forced him to do nothing, Master Sergeant. I had no authority to order him to do anything. If you may recall, I merely presented the option to him, and to his great credit, he accepted it despite the risks. Why can’t you?” he asked me directly.

My eyes blazed at the blandly delivered statement even as I forced the electrical currents back within me, reminding myself sharply that whatever restraint the Captain was showing would evaporate instantly if I assaulted him. “Because you lied to him! Gave him a false sense of his chances! Encouraged him to do this even though you knew his odds were poor!”

For the first time, his eyes narrowed dangerously and a sudden breeze came up around him in direct reflection of his own growing anger, reminding me uncomfortably that my Captain’s well-developed wind affinity dwarfed my then-weaker lightning one. “I suggest you mind your tongue and manners, Guardsmare,” he warned me, indicating I was taxing his already strained patience to the limit.

“What I told him was that defeating Thunderbolt was within the realm of his unleashed powers, which was true—the outcome of this duel was proof enough of that. I further told him that using my technique, he would be Thunderbolt’s better, which was also true—at least in terms of speed.”

“But?” I prompted with my lips tight, recognizing from his final equivocation that there was more.

He considered me for a moment before answering, and to his credit, he did so honestly. “But—’twas possible and perchance even likely that his speed advantage alone would not suffice. That Thunderbolt’s far greater combat experience and lightning affinity would be decisive, or that Gavian being a bit faster would not be enough to disrupt Thunderbolt’s ability to predict his strikes. Methinks there was also at least a slight chance Thunderbolt would identify and exploit the flaw in Gavian’s technique, but ‘twas no real danger of it in hindsight.”

I’d been ready to launch into another rant, but then blinked. “Flaw? Gavian has a flaw?” ‘Twas certain I’d not noticed any in our most recent sparring sessions, nor in the battles he’d fought.

“Indeed. Methinks Thunderbolt has been so well-served by his own speed and ability to predict strikes that he has come to over-rely on them, losing in turn his ability to dissect an opponent’s strengths and weaknesses,” he mused, then went on without my prompting.

“Gavian’s flaw is that he can only wield his blade with his dominant arm—his right. This leaves a slight blind spot or slowness to react at his lower left side, as he cannot defend that area as quickly or effectively,” he noted with an idle air. “’Twould not matter facing lesser opponents against whom even his normal speed would suffice, or against those sparring partners he knows well and can anticipate, like you or Sky Sergeant Strike. But against an elite but unfamiliar enemy who is not blinded by rage, it could well be fatal to him. Methinks he will have to address that weakness when he recovers.”

“If he recovers…” I corrected his words bitterly, and this time my lip quivered. “Tell me, sir—have you any idea what ‘twas like for me to watchthat?”

His face softened slightly. “I am a parent myself, Master Sergeant. And were my own offspring at risk in such a scenario… then yes, I imagine I would be feeling much the same as you did. And still do,” he granted. “But our feelings betray us in war, and must be set aside in matters of command—particularly in regards to a single soldier whose mere presence could potentially swing many battles in our favor. So I’m sorry, but ‘tis certain I cannot be swayed by familial sentiments. And ultimately, neither can you.”

I glared at him again despite his small concession. “So you wouldst have sacrificed Gavian—my son—on the altar of the war effort for some small chance of success?” I asked scornfully.

“Though I would have mourned his loss... yes. Without hesitation. And the reason is very simple.” He leaned in close before speaking his next words, forcing me to meet his gaze: “Thunderbolt is worth at least a hundred elite soldiers to that war effort. Truth be told, he is even worth a hundred Gavians,” he informed me bluntly, causing me to recoil as if I’d been slapped.

His upraised wing stopped me before I could launch into another tirade. “’Tis not a slur against your son, Guardsmare, whom I immensely admire for both his honor and warrior heart. ‘Tis simply the fact that Gavian could only fight once for ten minutes at Thunderbolt’s level. But Thunderbolt can do so in each and every battle he enters, and also bears a well-developed lightning affinity that can even defeat gryphon mages!

“‘That makes him the ultimate soldier and a very powerful weapon of war against the gryphons—but only ifhis demons can be controlled, else he would be just as destructive to our own side,” he reminded me again.

“With those demons hopefully slain thanks to your son’s supreme skill and heroism, perchance he can finally be that weapon of war. For we need Thunderbolt the soldier, not the slayer. And even if there was only a fifteen percent chance of reclaiming the former from the latter at the cost of a single life, then for the enormous battlefield benefits we stood to gain, ‘twas a chance worth taking,” he told me unrepentantly. “Even if that life was your son’s.”

His words were yet another slap to the face, and I found anger and sorrow trying to rise up within me again. And yet, methinks the worst part was, I knew deep down he was right. But still—“You wouldst not say that were Gavian your son, my Captain!”

“True. But as he is not, ‘tis why I can look at the situation dispassionately, and ‘tis also why I am not ordering your arrest right now for insubordination and conduct unbecoming. For I understand you are reacting as a parent, and not as a subordinate,” he explained somewhat shortly, a growing edge to his voice. “But there are limits to my patience, Master Sergeant, and ‘tis certain you are rapidly reaching them. My time runs short, so are you quite through?”

“Almost,” Methinks I realized that I was in very thin air with him at that point, but I decided to press my luck just a little further. “And what, by the sun, would you have done with Thunderbolt if he was victorious and Gavian died? Slain him yourself, I suppose?” I suggested in some disgust.

“No. Knowing he was irredeemable, I would have allowed him to leave Cloudsdale to go attack the gryphons as he wished. Overconfident and unsupported in his efforts, ‘tis certain he would have been dead by daybreak, having claimed mayhap another one or two centuries of their soldiers before falling—if we were lucky,” he said with a shrug.

“He would then no longer be a threat to us, yet remain a hero in the eyes of all Equestria—a paragon of warrior glory who would hopefully inspire many others in this fight. Methinks ‘twould be some small penance for his crimes, at least, and a way he could serve us even in death.”

“Even though ‘twas all a lie?” I dripped contempt on the last word.

“’Twas not a lie, Guardsmare!” he reprimanded me sharply, his teal eyes flashing as a sudden gust of wind ruffled my short-cut mane. Taking a deep breath, he went on. “Perchance you are unaware, but Thunderbolt did act heroically when Cloudsdale was attacked! He single-hoofedly slaughtered the Ravens and organized an effective civilian resistance, saving hundreds of lives at the weather factory in the process—including your second’s sister!” he informed me, causing me to instantly fall silent.

“You are more than welcome to read Rolling Thunder’s battle report if you wish—‘tis an utterly astonishing account, full of supreme skill and sacrifice by military and civilian alike—but in short, his efforts not only saved countless weather workers but cost the gryphons dearly, buying enough time for Corps reinforcements to arrive and turn the winds of battle irrevocably against them!

“For that, he is a hero, and ‘tis certain that nothing that happened this night—or even last night—changed that. Know that even had I slain him myself, ‘twas my intention to ask Our Princess to award him the Defender of Harmony medal for his actions here.”

I blanched hard, finding the idea of Thunderbolt sharing space on that podium with Windshear incredibly odious. “You cannot be serious.”

His eyes flashed and he stood up out of his seat. “Enough, Guardsmare! You forget your place and I have tolerated your insolence for long enough! Whether you agree with what I did or not, ‘tis done, and you should be proud of your son for his incredible courage and accomplishment, not attacking me for it!” he silenced me on the spot with his vehemence and a sudden blast of wind that scattered his papers.

This time, ‘twas his turn to take a deep and calming breath, which he exhaled slowly out his nostrils. “Our talk is finished, and I have a difficult night of negotiations with the Nightborne ahead of me. But such is my duty and not yours. So return to your son, and be at his side where you belong. We will speak again upon my return tomorrow from Hollow Shades, but before then, I expect you to consider my words well. Especially the ones to follow.”

He then stalked around the desk of Captain Shady to loom over me, his gaze boring into mine. “Know that I have not punished your insubordination thus far because I understood what endangering your son was doing to you. But as of this moment, that time has passed. I do not regret my actions, and were we to ask him, I’m sure that neither would Gavian. So you are now on notice, Guardsmare, that I will not indulge your selfish flights of familial anger again,” he warned, his tone dark.

“When next we meet, you will check your tongue and your temper, or I will not hesitate to reduce your rank and throw you in the brig for a week. Your achievements are outstanding, but they do not excuse you from respecting my rank, and I will not brook your backtalk or questioning my command again. Is that clear, Master Sergeant?” he asked, his voice ice-cold.

“Clear, Captain,” I grated out, not wanting to listen even as I knew he was right. Nevertheless, recognizing I’d pushed him as far as I could without incurring his threatened punishment, I came to attention and saluted crisply. “Request permission to rejoin my son, sir?”

“Granted. Dismissed.”

‘Tis a difficult discussion to recall, even now. In truth, there were times I considered not including an account of this meeting, as ‘tis assuredly not my finest hour of military service—‘twas a time when, as the Captain said, I was forgetting myself and allowing my emotions to dictate my actions, which I had been taught by everypony from Windshear to Sundiver to Silent Night not to do.

Worse than his reprimand, however, was knowing that he was right—that in the end, Gavian had agreed to this, and ‘twas his decision to make. That Thunderbolt was far more valuable than Gavian to the war effort, and for the former to lose to a gryphon was perchance the only way to reclaim our future founding Bolt Knight member as a usable soldier. So he had presented his plan and left the choice to Gavian, who had listened to both sides of the debate and finally accepted it even knowing he could die.

Even knowing that he would be defying me to do so, which in hindsight, only made it harder for him and not easier, perchance making his defeat and death more likely.

‘Twas a hard thing for me to accept, that even my son’s life was ultimately expendable in the war effort. That to be a successful military commander required setting aside all sentiment; that too oft it required a pony to make choices that could be extremely distasteful but no less necessary.

In the end, he indeed wagered Gavian’s life, but for the battlefield benefits we eventually reaped, ‘twas the right decision to make. And as I think about it, Gavian himself would remind me in no uncertain terms that he chose this course, and does not regret it, especially since it served the purpose he sought as well—restoring his spirit even as it broke his body.

Regardless, methinks the Captain had every right to come down very hard on me for my attitude issues that day, but he did not. Nor did he owe me any explanation, but he nevertheless gave me one before laying down the law with me.

‘Twas not, to be sure, the end of my raw emotions or resentment, but methinks he tore the heart out of it in that short ten minutes, and reminded me of both the burden of command as well as what a good leader truly was.

—Firefly

Thank you, my Captain. I can well imagine how hard this entire evening as well as the preceding day was for you. Though I have no offspring, familial relations I do possess through the Blueblood line, and ‘tis surprisingly hard for me to lose any of them, whether to old age or to battle.

One of the latter had already happened, I had learned just a day earlier, leaving me planning to honor her sacrifice in a formal decoration ceremony later. But Prince Blueblood had his own form of honor planned, and ‘tis one I was quite surprised to hear.

—Celestia Daybringer

Canterlot Castle, East Grounds
Canterlot
September 4th, 1139 AC
1300 hours

Our lunch finished, our table was being rapidly cleared and reset for our usual game of chess, which admittedly had become one of the high points of my typical week as the Prince advanced in skill and started to give me a real challenge. ‘Twas here we customarily discussed matters of state or personal requests, and such it was in this instance.

“Very well, Auntie. Now that our meal is done, let us both play chess and chat,” Blueblood offered as he waited for his customary post-lunch goblet of brandy to be poured, whilst I stuck to my typical tea as the jade-carved board was set before us. As always, I took the diamond-sculpted light pieces of the Celestial War’s Solar side whilst Blueblood commanded the opal-carved dark pieces in the form of my former sister’s Army of the Night.

“As you wish,” I granted, awaiting his first move, which we alternated with each game. “So you said you ‘wished to offer me your services’. And what, may I ask, did you mean by that?” I wondered aloud, knowing it could imply anything from arranging an under-the-table shipment of my favorite forbidden alcohols to taking the bulk of my duties over for me so I could have a day off—which I’d learned from long experience generally meant he had an ulterior motive in mind, seeking my authority with which to arrange import of some of his own illicit substances or to humiliate a noble who had slandered him.

A Prince’s Offer

He raised an eyeridge at my slightly suspicious tone. “‘Tis nothing selfish or sinister, Auntie. Quite the opposite, in fact. I have decided that I wish to serve in the war. Not as a common soldier, mind you, but as a leader of them.” He moved his first piece forward.

“I see,” I said cautiously as I did the same. “As Prince, you are one of the few exempted from military service, given you may well need to assume the throne of all Equestria should the war go poorly and I fall to the dragons. May I ask what sparked this strange request?”

He glanced up from the chess board to give me a level look. “Sterling Silver.”

I glanced up in surprise, recognizing the name from both past meetings and Admiral Coral Torch’s latest Naval reports. “Your cousin?”

“Yes,” he said as he moved another pawn forward, and I knew him well enough to recognize the barest hint of regret in his eyes, despite his attempts to appear impassive. “I have learned she died at her post on the Duty, commanding it in the stead of her absent captain and then destroying it to spite the gryphons, taking a large number of them with her. If a minor member of my noble line was willing to do that, then the Crown Prince of all Equestria can surely do no less.”

I looked up sharply again as I moved my own pawn to counter. “That information has not been disseminated. How did you know the nature of her death?”

He merely shrugged. “I read the reports of the battle and was singularly impressed by them—which, as you know, is not easy to do. In fact, methinks I was impressed not just with her, but by the entire conduct of the battle, as commanded by acting Commodore Shady. ”

“You read the reports?” I blinked again. “How? Those are classified and not given for general release!”

“I have my ways,” was all he would say as he advanced a lunar knight out of his rear rank to back his pike-wielding thestral pawns. “And ‘tis unimportant. The point is, I wish to both defend Equestria and honor my cousin by serving in the Navy as well, for bringing glory to her name and my family’s lesser line. And in truth, after reading the reports of the battle, I find myself fascinated by its course and the conduct of naval warfare in general.”

“I see,” I answered neutrally as I moved another pawn, freeing a bishop as a prelude to a castle move. Then you wish to follow in your cousin’s hoofsteps by being assigned the post of first officer on an airship?”

“Hardly anything so pedestrian,” he replied as he developed his dark-squared bishop by moving another piece with his magic, hemming in a rook. “I do not wish to be given a purely symbolic post, Auntie, and I will be nopony’s second. I wish to be given command of an entire naval battle group.”

‘Twas not often that I was caught off guard by a simple request, but this was such a time, as my aura froze in the middle of moving a piece. “You wish to be made a Commodore? With no Naval or combat experience?” I could scarcely imagine the reaction of Admiral Coral Torch to such an outlandish suggestion.

“Come now, Auntie. Even with the outbreak of war, most current Naval officers have little in the way of actual naval or combat experience, excepting perchance the Stalliongrad group. But I do not seek to usurp them. I wish instead to be given command of one of the new Naval groups you are standing up. In fact, I believe you are planning to recommission the Polaris group here at Royal Naval headquarters in Canterlot?” he pointed out. “Methinks I would be the ideal commander for it.”

I gave him an askance look as I blocked the advance of a bishop with a knight. “That order was not for general consumption, lest Imperial spies saw it.”

“Then ‘tis quite fortunate that my own intelligence network is not made of Imperial spies,” he said easily as the first exchange of taken pieces followed, leaving us vying for control of the board’s center. “Whilst new capital airships of improved classes are built at Stalliongrad, you are planning to bring older museum ships back into service as a stopgap, including the Yoketown and Polaris. Give me command of the latter,” he requested again.

“In doing so, let our subjects see that their Crown Prince is willing to risk himself in this conflict, even in the face of those odious and ugly lizards flying overhead. If nothing else, methinks you will receive far less squawking from entitled nobles about conscription if you do.” He raised an eyeridge at me as he performed a castle move of his own, shielding his Lunar King—the moon itself—from my march of pawns.

“’Tis true,” I granted, having already received and read several protests from various members of the noble class about forcing them into military service, to say nothing of the deprivations they were already starting to suffer with Canterlot cut off from greater Equestria—a state that would last at least until new underground supply lines could be opened around Diamond Dog interdiction. “Nevertheless, your request is a difficult one, Nephew.

“I grant you are well-learned and have become a skilled wielder of a very difficult sword art, but that does not teach strategy or tactics, let alone naval warfare or how to command even a single airship,” I noted as I moved a rook to back its companion on the same file.

“After ten years of playing it, I am nearly your equal in chess,” he replied as he endangered a Solar Sage knight in turn, threatening to unhinge my right flank. “Does that not teach strategy and tactics? And as far as the naval arts go, I see no reason why I cannot learn them quickly.”

“Battle is not like chess,” I felt compelled to correct him as I made another rapid exchange of pieces with him, leaving me with only a slight advantage in the center.

The Prince, however, was unperturbed. “I fail to see why. Both sides have pieces in the form of units. Those units can be of different types and have different strengths and weaknesses; different levels of mobility or striking range—just like chess pieces. Battlefields tend to be bounded—just like a chess board. And ultimately, the objective is not to eradicate an enemy’s pieces so much as to simply trap and topple the king, which could be either seizing an enemy capital or killing their commander. Or on a smaller scale, gaining a key resource or position,” he mused, then moved his Lunar queen—I hated the fact that she was in the guise of Nightmare Moon—to a new file, thwarting my rooks. “Check.”

I instantly moved my King—the Sun itself—out of danger. “Well reasoned. But with one crucial flaw.”

“Enlighten me, Auntie,” he invited as he advanced his next piece to launch a double-attack on a Knight with a discovered check on my King.

“Very well,” I replied, impressed by his strategy, sacrificing my Knight to escape the trap and block his route to my King. “In chess, the piece that moves to take another automatically wins it regardless of type or rank. That means that a simple pawn could topple a queen. That is hardly the case in warfare.”

“So the piece with initiative—the piece that moves first—has the advantage,” he smoothly countered; ‘twas clear he had anticipated my question and thought this through. “And a well-placed pawn in the form of an assassin could topple a king even in real life, through careful planning.

“In the same way, a single saboteur could take out an entire airship. Or an entire army could be held back by a thinly held chokepoint, as was the case at Thermarepylae,” he further pointed out, emphasizing his point by creating one with a fresh phalanx of his remaining pawns that hemmed in the entire left side of my board.

“Tis true…” I granted again as I realized my odds of winning had now grown quite slim, and thus ‘twas best to play for a tie. Much as I hated to admit it, he not only had a point, but he had learned from his earlier defeats quite well. “You have clearly thought this through, my young Prince.”

“Thank you, Auntie. Though methinks another point you made is valid—that even with initiative, the outcome between two units meeting in combat is not guaranteed as ‘tis in chess. But that does not nullify my analogy. I do know strategy and tactics from simple mastery of this game, and I’m certain such skills would translate easily enough to the Navy. Once I understand well enough the roles and capabilities of the various ships, guns and flyers I command, that is.”

I stared at him for a moment. “Methinks you are truly serious about this,” I realized in renewed respect.

“Of course I am. When have you ever known me not to be?” he asked dryly, offering up an amused smile for the first time as he raised his goblet of brandy to me in toast. “These are trying times, Auntie, and I will not sit on the sidelines whilst gryphon and dragon vultures gather. ‘Tis my intention to fight them, and a Royal Navy Commodore is the capacity I wish to do so in.”

“I will consider it,” I said at some length as our chess match perchance inevitably ended in a draw. “But methinks I can promise you this much—you will not simply be installed as Commodore. My sister would never approve of such a thing in her service, so if you truly wish it, you must earn it—you must learn the knowledge necessary and pass every test and exam given you.”

“And ‘tis certain I would have it no other way, Auntie,” he said as he stood and bowed low before me as our match and meeting ended. “Just as I received no special treatment from my sword school, I expect none here. ‘Twill be some time before the Polaris group is ready, so I will immerse myself in Naval texts as much as my swordsponyship in the meantime. And by the time ‘tis ready to be crewed?”

He stood to attention and drew his sword, sketching me a salute with it. “Be assured I will pass all tests, including the Bridge officer, Captain and Commodore exams. As well as any others you or Admiral Torch herself may seek to surprise me with...”

My initial inclination to this request was to decline it. And yet, the more I heard from him, the more it reminded me of when he’d initially decided he wished to study the One True Form sword art, reeling off to me and his sire a list of facts and figures of it, even sketching some of its basic techniques before us with a toy sword. I thus gave my blessing to his attempting it, even though I did not expect the arrogant and impatient 14-year old colt he was to last long in it.

But eleven years later, he had not only stuck with it, but he stood on the verge of mastering the art’s highest form and earning the rarely granted title of Maestro. And listening to him speak of his latest desire, it struck me that I heard much the same tone and determination from him with regards to joining the Navy as he had shown a decade earlier. Thus, ‘twas certain to me even then that he not only meant what he said, but that he had the ability, desire and will to do it.

I again offered the Prince the pen for at least some closing remarks, but he has yet again declined, content to let me describe our meeting. He promises that he will speak eventually, but “not until the appropriate time”. I know not what he means by that, but I will take him at his word. Though ‘tis certain he can be tactless and undiplomatically direct at times, ‘tis very refreshing considering the doublespeak I oft encounter in diplomatic meetings.

Thankfully, the latest one I attended was anything but. ‘Tis my pleasure to announce that at long last, I met Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV, longtime Sovereign of the Lepidoptes Hive and arguably the savior of Equestria, in what can only be considered an official state visit.

I will not extend this chapter to describe our encounter, but will devote more time to it—and to her—later. I will simply say for now that I found her more than worthy of her title and crown; as intelligent, caring and noble a being as I have ever met. A true peer, and a being I am now very proud to call my friend.

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria
Canterlot

“The game of chess is not merely an idle amusement. Several very valuable qualities of the mind, useful in the course of human life, are to be acquired or strengthened by it. Life is a kind of Chess, in which we have often points to gain, and competitors or adversaries to contend with.”

—Benjamin Franklin

Author's Note

Welcome back to the story, folks. It would appear I was very ready to resume it as I churned out this new chapter in the space of about five days. I was given some inspiration by Denim_Blue's coming Changeling chapter, which as you'll see, will introduce another character who could well end up being a foil for Blueblood.

Speaking of our good Prince, the idea of this version of him is to keep his personality intact while still making him a bona fide badass, if of an entirely different flavor than the other characters. I'm actually quite proud of this sword art I came up with, and you'll certainly be hearing more of it over time.

As for Firefly and Typhoon, this is not the end of it, as they'll be having another potentially heated talk after Typhoon's coming meeting with the Nightborne. But I did wish to take the opportunity to have Typhoon explain himself to her while giving a convincing reason for not punishing her.

Thanks go to the redoubtable Denim_Blue, the esteemed Silentwoodfire and the incredible AJ_Aficionado for their rapid prereads of this. It was one of those chapters where we were all having a whale of a time in the google doc comments, bantering back and forth.

Denim_Blue's changeling chapter will be released next week on September 1st, to mark the story's three-year anniversary. Be looking for it and hope you enjoyed this one!

Second Offensive: 2 - Bleeding Earth, Part 1/2

Hello, faithful readers of this growing opus. This is Queen Scylla of the Lepidoptes Changeling Hive writing to you once more. ‘Tis a great pleasure to inform all who follow this account that, for the first time ever, an entry of mine does not have to be smuggled into Equestria as I have arrived in the pony nation for a state visit.

‘Tis a time both exciting and nerve-wracking for all concerned, but I am pleased to report we have managed to arrive at Canterlot with only a few ruffled feathers, speaking figuratively for the most part. ‘Tis understandable that my arrival has produced anxiety on both sides, though I do hope Princess Celestia will forgive me for finding a bit of amusement in having my agents test her security, even if her EIS did not. Blame my heritage if you must, but for what ‘tis worth, we found it satisfactory.

Rest assured, our visit was arranged well in advance, though kept confidential in the beginning to avoid major fanfare and the potential for treachery, which even this long after the war must be taken into account. I have been accompanied by several of my most trusted advisors, one of whom shall be contributing to this story later.

Thanks in part to magical methods of communication, our visit was negotiated between myself, Princess Celestia, and a retinue of officials both pony and gryphon, who eventually agreed on a set date. Of course, certain groups were informed as well, among them being those in charge of the security. We have docked my personal transport at an airship harbor close to the palace, where ‘tis under the watch of the Equestrians.

Some of my advisors were not as keen to be so open about our arrival, but they understood the reasoning and have kept their protests to a minimum. In truth, for as isolated as we have been, ‘tis the first time I have ever been able to visit any foreign sovereign and marks what I hope is an important turning point in our relations with the outside world.

Canterlot’s reception of us has been more or less welcoming, though ‘tis clear some of the PSD and military officials are not as… receptive to our presence as I might have hoped. Again, I can understand, especially after the recent coup attempt.

Though presentations, parades and several public speeches are assuredly on the schedule, Princess Celestia herself has made sure to include a few private meetings between us, and I am admittedly a bit nervous to speak to one who I grew up admiring in my youth.

She is far from the only important figure I am meeting, however, as Ambassador Kaval has also had the chance to at least introduce himself to me in person. We discussed matters that I had spoken of in one of our previous contributions to this story, ending with him delivering some of the information we sought. The greater details of this are being divulged to him as well as myself by the Kingdom’s intelligence, though ‘twould seem other matters are currently taking precedence for him at the moment.

Lycovenato, although reluctant to do so at first, has decided to accompany me on my visit to Canterlot as well. He has not explained his reasons yet, but I suspect he will make it known in time.

Methinks that will have to be all for now. As Captain Firefly is not immediately available due to familial obligations, I have delivered this chapter to the Princess instead, who has promised ‘twill be published in its entirety. She assures me that Firefly will return in time for the last two days of my weeklong stay, and that the three of us will have a private luncheon in the gardens, along with a few of our closest friends and advisors. She has been very gracious to me, and I find myself marveling at being able to walk alongside her as an equal, with no disguise.

But such sentiments are not important right now. So, without further delay, I give you our story of my Hive’s exodus from the Imperial capital of Mosclaw.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV
Sovereign of the Lepidoptes Hive

Ill Tidings

Gryphon Empire - Mosclaw
Location Undisclosed
September 5th, 1139 AC (Year 305 of of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
2345 hours

Barely an hour had passed since I had retired to my personal chambers for the evening when an urgent rapping at my door awoke me from my sleep. I could immediately sense the frantic, barely restrained emotions from the two changelings on the other side of the heavy iron doors, and knew it boded ill.

I got out of my bed and donned a robe before calling to whoever awaited outside. “Enter.”

The doors swung open, perchance a little too quickly, as Rachnia Silkweave, the Captain of the Royal Guard, as well as the unassuming form of Commander Borer, the head of the Hive’s Intelligence Division, walked in with atypical haste. Both offered hurried bows which I returned with a dip of my head. “Captain Silkweave, Commander Borer… what brings you to my chambers at this hour?” I asked in a calm tone, even as I feared I knew the answer.

“Apologies for disturbing your rest, My Queen,” Borer began, producing a scroll with her magic that she had been carrying in a saddle bag. “But… well, methinks we’ve received some rather dire news.”

I remained silent, waiting for her to explain as she floated the scroll to me.

‘Twas Rachnia, however, who continued. “Two of our contacts have not reported in at their scheduled times. ‘Tis assuredly not a coincidence as they were two of our most trusted agents but are now nearly five hours overdue.”

“Which agents?” I asked, studying the contents of the scroll. A chill crept down my spine as I began reading, finding it detailed a lack of communication preceded by increasingly ominous reporting for the past few days from the missing agents.

“Agents Whisper and Pedipalp,” Borer replied, her tone betraying hints of unease. “Whisper was stationed as a Raven acolyte for the past year and was to report in earlier this evening. She has yet to do so, even though she has never once missed a check-in before this.”

“And Pedipalp?” I asked, stopping as I read the very same information regarding Whisper that Borer had given me. “I believe he was deep within the Owls’ research ranks, correct?”

The dim lighting may have contributed to Borer’s expression, but a shadow seemed to pass over her face. “Our last report from him arrived this morning. He stated that he suspected his cover was compromised, but was already making efforts to cover his tracks.”

My unease grew, but I held back the frown that threatened to cross my lips. “I see…”

“And there is more, My Queen. We also received word from the entry Guard. They reported much higher numbers of gryphons sniffing around the neighborhood. They bear no uniforms or markings, but their focused manner and calm but intentful emotions suggest Ravens. Our lookouts sighted at least twelve within the past twenty minutes’ time, and one was spotted sitting by a window on the other end of the street for almost six hours.”

The two were quiet afterwards as I continued to study the scroll. Agent Whisper was a young infiltrator among her peers, but she was good at holding a cover and could speak Aeric better than myself. Whilst ‘twas unlikely, methinks ‘twasn’t unfathomable to believe she may have been found out.

Pedipalp, however… ‘twas certain he was one of our finest. He was a twelve-year veteran and 'was practically a gryphon in all but blood and bone with how well he blended in. For him to be found…

“‘Twould seem that our hive’s location is compromised and is in imminent danger of being breached. Which could also mean that the gryphons have found an effective method for spotting our agents and shedding our covers,” I realized with a sinking heart, speaking quietly enough so my voice did not carry out into the hall beyond my chambers. “Then ‘tis certain we can wait no longer. Inform the Royal Guard to escalate to Code: Burrow. I want every patrol to be in pairs at all times, and reporting every five minutes over encrypted gem frequency Theta.”

“It shall be done, My Queen,” Rachnia replied with a bow, and quickly made her way out the door to carry out my orders. Borer turned to watch Rachnia leave, then back to me. She said nothing, but her eyes looked at me with barely contained worry. Borer was a brilliant tactician and had a knack for gathering intelligence, but she was also rather new to her position, having just taken over after her predecessor and mentor had passed away only a year ago, succumbing to old age.

“Commander, be prepared to initiate Code: Break within an hour. Standard procedure already states that Code: Break is to be readied at a moment’s notice when Code: Burrow is put into effect, so the Guard must be prepared. I want all civilians making immediate evacuation preparations and for all critical intelligence documentation to be gathered up and secured for transport. Anything that cannot be gathered quickly is to be destroyed.”

“It will be done. And the Silencers on duty…?” Borer asked, standing a little taller. As the military head directly in charge of the Intelligence Division, she was also responsible for commanding my military’s elite task force when I myself could not.

I held back an exhale. “‘Tis best to assume that we’ll have uninvited guests baring daggers to our throats, and quite soon. Send out the call for agents still out in the field to rendezvous at the Hive’s designated relocation point. We were already planning to be gone within two weeks’ time. We’ll simply need to accelerate our plans, ‘twould seem.”

“As you command, My Queen.” Borer bowed, then rose. “There… is one more detail I feel is worth mentioning, My Queen. Forgive the break in protocol, but I had already informed Rachnia about this. I felt ‘twas urgent she be made aware, given her command of our Guard.”

I nodded sagely. “Of course, Commander, I trust your judgment. What was this detail you wish me to know of?”

Borer’s wings buzzed in agitation. “Before she went dark, Agent Whisper noted a marked increase in close-quarter exercises by Ravens around the Office of Owl’s headquarters in the capital. They didn’t carry the standard-issue equipment during the fights, however—they were practicing hallway and room-clearing tactics with some new objects we hadn’t seen before.

“Moreover, they were drilling as larger units, not their typical smaller teams of three or seven. Not unlike a decade or turma of Talons would. Strength in numbers, to put it simply.”

“I see…” That was rather odd for the Ravens, but not too hard to believe. The Empire did hold the ideal of military discipline and working together highly in all its military forces, after all. “Did she elaborate at all on this information?”

“No, unfortunately, she did not, My Queen. She seemed to be in a hurry to get this information to us judging by the state of her writing on the scroll. However—she mentioned a week earlier in a report that there was a concerning increase in explosive and other gem production, and that the Owls were working on a project in their laboratories whose nature she could not determine,” Borer replied.

“We did not think anything of it at the time other than they were stepping up materiel manufacturing for the war effort, but now methinks it may have had a different purpose entirely. Combined with the increase in Imperial agents outside, the implications of this news are as numerous as they are worrisome.”

I frowned but nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Commander. ‘Twould seem our time grows short, then. See to your instructions and then report to me in the throne room at 0030 hours. I will have messages sent to all of the council heads to do likewise.”

“By your command, My Queen.” She bowed low.

As Borer left, I reached out to the mental link between myself and Lycovenato and projected my thoughts. Lycovenato? Can you hear me?

There was a short pause followed by a faint pulse of alertness that I sensed as my signal crossed the large distance to him, and then back. Yes, My Queen. I am making good time. I crossed the Delamare yesterday and am continuing my course to Detrot now. The gryphons have launched a fresh offensive, to the detriment of the ponies but to my benefit, as both sides are now occupied with each other and not looking for me.

Excellent. Continue to carry out the plan. But all is not well. I feel that I must inform you that… an incident has arisen in Mosclaw.

There was a faint tremor of concern. An incident, My Queen?

Correct. ‘Tis quite possible we are found out, and we are commencing operations for Code: Burrow at this very moment.

Code Burrow?! Lycovenato couldn’t contain his worry now, his emotions leaking into his thoughts. Then the Hive is evacuating already? But I had thought—

Peace, Lycovenato. I channeled what I hoped was a calming tone to him. The last thing I needed was for one of my most important field operatives to become distracted or worried. For now, ‘tis only a precaution, but yes, we are advancing our departure. Within four hours at most, we should have the hive completely evacuated and all necessary documents secured or destroyed. We are fortunate enough to have the escape tunnel completed as of yesterday morning, thank the Hive Mother. The Empire’s capital has grown too dangerous to remain in, however.

There was a long pause, but I could feel the nagging concern from Lycovenato’s thoughts tickling the edges of my senses. I… I understand, My Queen. I shall continue as planned.

Wonderful. Do inform me before your arrival to Detrot, however. These are ever-changing times for intelligence, and if anything new comes to my attention that may affect you, it will be crucial that you know before settling in amongst the Equestrians.

There was a long sigh from him, but he seemed convinced enough. Yes, My Queen. But please… see to your own safety and that of the Hive!

I will do everything in my power to extract us safely, my changeling. I will contact you again when the operation is complete. Until then, see to your own safety as well, I answered. With his final mental acknowledgement, the connection faded to the back of my mind once more.

I closed my eyes and took five minutes, slowly breathing in and out as I focused on the flow of my internal magicks. After achieving some degree of calm from my meditative exercise, I set about cleaning up and making myself presentable for an impromptu meeting with my Hive’s Supreme Council.

When I departed, ‘twas with a lingering and slightly wistful look around. For ‘twas then I realized that with our evacuation imminent, I might never see the inside of my personal chambers again.

Lepidoptes Hive Throne Room
Location Undisclosed
September 6th, 1139 AC (Year 305 of of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
0039 hours

The Supreme Council was gathered before me in short order as I looked upon each of the fourteen members, though never had the matters discussed been so urgent or grave. Borer and Rachnia Silkweave, being the Heads of Intelligence and Security respectively, were of course present. The other twelve members looked to be in varying states of wakefulness, but if any had complaints about being awakened at such an hour, they did not voice them.

I quickly shared what information I had been given by Borer and Rachnia, and any signs of drowsiness from my councilors quickly vanished as they realized the gravity of our situation.

“So, as you see, ‘tis quite possible our location has been compromised, and we must put in motion immediately our plans to evacuate the hive. The Guard has already been alerted. We must now gather all civilians and proceed with getting them out as safely and quickly as possible. All military are to be divided into two groups—one to secure and patrol the tunnels whilst evacuations take place, and the other to help civilians with the actual evacuation.”

I next turned to an elderly male who was not just one of my most trusted advisors, but one of my oldest friends. “Councilor Katid, you are to follow the plans as per Captain Rachnia’s instructions. But as our time runs short, see to it that only the barest of essentials are taken by civilians. Anything less than absolutely necessary is to be destroyed. Minutes matter, and we cannot afford our Hive to linger any longer than needed.”

Katid gave a bow, his graying chitin making him appear pale; his pallor only compounding his worried expression. “Understood, My Queen,” he replied as Rachnia merely bowed her head in acknowledgment.

“Commander Borer, gather up all Silencers and divide them into groups to assist patrols and civilian evacuation. You know their capabilities as well as I do, so I will trust you in this task. In the event of an attack, it falls upon them to hold off our pursuers and buy time for the Hive’s escape.”

“Yes, My Queen,” she replied, but then a new voice spoke up.

“My Queen…”

I turned to see the soft-spoken Head of Magic and Technology, Hemola. She was a mother of three and middle-aged. Methinks she had done wonders to expand our hive safely and had been critical in helping advance our agents’ abilities to blend in both physically and magically with gryphon-kind over the past decade.

“Yes, Doctor Hemola?”

She adjusted the gryphon-made spectacles resting on her muzzle, “M-my apologies for interrupting, but… what of the main laboratory? We were scheduled to move most of our equipment before the planned evacuation date, not now. Some of the tools and assets we have are irreplaceable, at least in the short term. Their loss ‘twould set us back months, even years, were we to destroy or abandon them.”

“I will send you over several crates of storage gems, Doctor,” spoke the monotone voice of Antenne, the no-nonsense head of Public Works. “We’ve kept a large stock of them for this very reason, after all.”

Hemola visibly relaxed at the news. “Thank you.”

“But that said, our time grows short, Doctor. If it cannot be stowed before the evacuation sounds, then it must be destroyed lest the gryphons recreate our research or use it to learn more about us,” I reminded her.

A few more minutes of similar exchanges were made, but most were settled quickly in part from extensive pre-planning for this very evacuation. After fifteen minutes’ time, I called an end to the meeting with a promise that I would assist in every way I could to ensure our Hive was safe.

As soon as I was alone once more, I stared at the twin streams of water that lined either side of the pathway to my throne and towards the entrance. Though I projected a calm air, ‘twould be a lie to say I was not scared. Not for myself, but for my Hive. For my children and family.

Plexippa was not the only one of my offspring to serve in the military; several now served in the Guard. Several others were not even at the Hive presently, which gave me a mixture of relief and anxiety. Were they safe, I wondered? Were their identities known? Would the gryphons spare extra effort to hunt them down for their relation to me, in hopes of using them as hostages to force my surrender?

I knew not the answer to that question, or their status, as reports and updates could only travel so fast without compromising our courier routes. Would they be able to reach the rendezvous or would they somehow not be made aware of this sudden turn of events before ‘twas too late?

As I thought of this, ‘twas important to remind myself of two things that brought me some degree of comfort. Firstly, and much like when my daughter had managed to deliver the crucial information of the gryphons’ plans to invade, we were given advance warning. Whilst her efforts had bought the Equestrians only a few scant hours, it had allowed them to sound the alarm and forced the gryphons to attack before they were ready, giving them a chance.

We now found ourselves in a similar situation, as our lookouts had spotted the Owl operatives and Ravens closing on our location. ‘Twas no doubt in my mind that they were readying to storm us; that before the sun rose we would be facing gryphon forces. That we had some advance notice was invaluable, and mayhap even enough given our extensive contingency plans.

For ‘tis certain ‘twould all have been for naught had we not planned ahead. Councilor Antenne had been the one to rush the excavation of the main escape tunnel, completing it well ahead of schedule, and despite some protesting from his peers, ‘twould appear he was now looking to be in the right with his pushing of deadlines. I mentally patted myself on the back for offering him the title of Head of Public Works, despite his rather serious attitude and lack of empathy in most cases.

Shortly after the meeting with the Supreme Council had ended, I found myself standing at the entrance of the evacuation tunnel, providing what I hoped was a comforting presence to the civilians and younglings who were abruptly being ushered out of their homes, with little time to prepare and few possessions to keep. Whilst I had hoped to provide actual help with moving of needed supplies, the evacuation team leads had assured me they were capable of doing so without my assistance, though they were grateful for the offer. I sensed that, deep down, they were trying to maintain a sense of composure for my benefit as well as their own.

And so I found myself, two hours into the evacuation effort, standing and offering comforting words to those who shared their worries and concerns with me. From younglings barely old enough to talk to elders who could barely walk or fly without assistance, I provided them with what emotional support I could, opening myself to their fears and sharing in their troubles whilst bolstering them with my own determination and willpower.

As I did so, I couldn’t help but wonder if ‘twas what Celestia herself was doing half a world away in Canterlot, trying to reassure her subjects even as myriad threats closed in around her. I wondered what she would do in my place, and I even imagined one day meeting her and sharing stories of how we managed our respective kingdoms on the first few frantic days of war.

I barely dared hope that one day ‘twould actually come true, but it did, and as of this writing, we did indeed share war stories over a pot of exquisite tea and several games of chess.

In truth, I had to do very little except simply be there. And for it, I soon found myself at something akin to peace, watching my hive working as one to ensure the safety of its members. Watching as all our careful planning and the spirit of Hive fellowship I had so carefully nurtured all those years finally paid off.

‘Tis worth noting that we were perchance smaller than most hives, but I liked to believe our smaller size made us more tightly knit. In my eyes, I saw my changelings not just as my subjects, but as my family. ‘Tis an inevitability when you are a changeling queen, I believe. My mother and my grandmother before me shared a similar view, so ‘tis certain I have them to thank for seeing my Hive as such. Whilst only some changelings were my actual children and relatives, to me, every changeling carried with them a much deeper connection that overshadowed family trees and bloodlines.

And ‘twas because of that very same connection that what transpired a few short hours into the sixth day of September brought me and my hive such suffering.

Lepidoptes Hive Evacuation Tunnel
Location Undisclosed
September 6th, 1139 AC (Year 305 of of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
0310 hours

To this day, I am unsure what caught my attention first. Perchance ‘twas the sudden, sharp spike in magic or the faint vibrations I felt run through my bones, but I felt a sudden sense of dread run through me as I turned back towards the general direction of the Hive’s main entrance.

Almost immediately after, the faint crackling of a communication gem positioned over my ears drew my attention. “Alert! This is Sixth Squad; confirmed gryphon presence at the main entrance, repeat, confirmed gryphon presence—” The communications were abruptly cut off, and I could feel the telltale ripple of a spell being cast. A communications disruption spell? A magic negation spell?

“Sixth Squad, respond!” called out Captain Rachnia on the crystal frequency. “Sixth Squad, do you copy?” No response. “All squads, be advised of possible Magus Knights amongst gryphon forces! Switch to encrypted frequency Io and maintain communications!”

I turned to face away from the still-evacuating civilians and spoke clearly whilst trying to keep my voice from carrying to the evacuees. “Captain Rachnia, gryphon attack confirmed. Code: Break is in effect. Proceed with lockdown of all non-essential tunnels immediately and defend the remainder in staged withdrawals until evacuation complete.”

“Of course, My Queen,” Rachnia replied dutifully. “Tenth and Eleventh Squads, regroup and proceed to phase two stations immediately. Prepare for close-quarters engagement! First Squad, advance to Sixth’s last position and assist as needed. All other squads, stand by.”

There was a brief pause before a new voice was heard. “Silencer groups Sigma and Kage, provide battle support to Squads Sixth, Fifth, Tenth, and Eleventh. Delta, Nova, Phi, and Rai, engage with phase one to flank the enemy forces.” Borer’s instructions were quick to follow Rachnia’s, her commanding tone followed by the quick affirmatives of the Silencer squad leaders.

I half-listened as Rachnia, Borer, and the commanding officers’ voices filled the frequency, speaking as an organized barrage of commands and feedback. Several of the evacuees must have also begun to pick up on the chatter, and a few of the Guards stationed nearby let off the faintest tremors of agitation.

“M-momma, did they say something about gryphons?”

“D-did anyone else feel that magic?”

“We’ll be fine, Her Majesty is here, and she’s more powerful than any Magus is…”

I let out a breath slowly and centered myself. I could conceal the information from them, yes. But mayhap ‘twas best to let my subjects know the severity of the situation. Ignorance might be bliss, ‘tis certainly true in cases, but knowledge was also power.

“My subjects, I have just been informed that the empire’s forces have breached the hive’s main entrance. Rest assured that we have prepared well for this day, and that the Royal Guard and Silencers will do all they can to ensure your safety.” I channeled my own feelings of determination and purpose among the changelings who looked to me.

“I understand many of you have family in the Guard. Do not undermine their efforts by panicking. We must remain calm, for the Empire seeks to catch us off-guard and throw us into chaos. ‘Tis the duty of all to remain level-headed and show them that the Lepidoptes Hive will not be so easily conquered!”

There were murmurs of agreement from my subjects, both civilian and military. Sensing that I had reached them, I continued. “As your Queen, I swear to all of you this,” I drew the curved longsword from my back and held it before me so that those listening could see. I stabbed into the ground with its tip whilst channeling my magic through the steel, drawing a line between myself and the tunnel leading back to the Hive where more civilians were continuing to flow out from. “As long as I draw breath, no gryphon shall pass this line!”

With my words having been said, I turned to face the tunnel leading back to the Hive and sheathed my blade to my back. The Guards stationed around the area took my silence as their cue to usher the civilians onward through the evacuation tunnel.

Whilst my words were sincere, ‘twas uncertain if there would be a point to me standing my ground by the time any gryphons reached that line I had drawn into the earth. I had faith in my Guards and Silencers, and we had plans in place to gradually retreat whilst slowing down the Imperial forces. By that point, all civilians should have been evacuated and all critical intelligence and resources would have been destroyed or transported out of the Hive.

Even so, I was the Queen, and ‘tis the duty of the Queen to protect her people. Unfortunately, by protecting my subjects, it meant that I could not protect those who fought on the frontlines. And as such, my perspective on the fight that took place is incredibly limited. I am therefore passing the quill to Captain Rachnia.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

I thank you, My Queen, for granting me the chance to tell the tale of what became known to our Hive as ‘The Exodus Battle’.

Greetings, fair readers of all races. As I’m sure has been made apparent by Her Majesty, I am Rachnia Silkweave, Captain of the Royal Guard of the Lepidoptes Hive. Though my rank is now an emeritus one, as I have since retired and my days of donning scaled armor and wielding sword and spear are few. In fact, ‘tis certain that I now only wield pen and paper most days whilst instructing our new recruits.

For generations our kind had lived beneath Mosclaw, quietly existing beneath the notice of the Gryphon Empire. Whilst I had come to terms with the fact that I would be leaving the Hive in the weeks prior to the scheduled evacuation date, there were many who no doubt struggled leaving the place they were born and raised so abruptly. Mayhap we had grown too content in our home beneath the Empire’s notice, but ‘twas potentially to our great detriment now.

I had served in the Lepidoptes Royal Guard for nearly fifteen years at the time, and had been promoted to the Captain of the Guard a little less than four years prior to when the war broke out across Equestria.

Many might find an officer of my rank better suited giving orders from behind the lines than at their fore. ‘Tis true that a leader must be prepared to trust the fighting to their subordinates and put aside personal feelings in favor of gaining the needed outcome in battle.

Whilst ‘tis certainly what I did when the gryphons first broke through our entrance, I was soon forced to step forward and engage in combat as well—almost too soon. Whilst I still hold some echoes of anger for what had happened that day, I must give the gryphons their due credit—they adapted quickly and prepared for multiple scenarios, especially with regard to the Ravens.

I’m sure the Silencers who survived that day would agree even more strongly. They share a similarity to that of the Ravens, who are trained from the beginning to fight from the shadows, and their approach to a battle is a stark contrast to that of the Knights and Talons.

The Hive’s Guard fought as best they could in slowing the Empire’s elite, and I will hold to this belief until the day I die. However, were it not for the Silencers, the outcome would have been far more grim for us.

The details I will share now have been approved by Her Majesty and our Intelligence Division. If I am to be honest, I have quietly hoped since the day the war ended that we might be able to reach out more openly to the world at large. Perchance, through my words, I can safely share a bit of who we are beyond our stealth and secrecy.

—Captain Rachnia Silkweave
Captain of Royal Guard Emeritus
Lepidoptes Hive Guard Academy
Lepidoptes Hive

Buying Time

I paced behind the stone barrier that reached up just past my barrel, my eyes flitting periodically to the tunnel entrance beyond me. The increasingly urgent chatter between my officers filled my right ear, nestled snugly beneath my iron kabuto, or helmet as the Equestrian tongue translates. Were I to describe it, I would say that it shares many similarities to the armor of Neighpon. This is a common trait with much of the Lepidoptes’ hives culture; whilst we branched off from a much larger Hive generations prior, the greater Hive we were part of had origins in the Neighponese archipelago.

My musings were quickly interrupted, however, as I heard Queen Lepidoptes’ voice in my ear, her tone calm but commanding as befit a ruler who wished to project a reassuring air in a time of crisis. “Captain Rachnia, gryphon attack confirmed. Code: Break is in effect. As rehearsed, proceed with lockdown of all non-essential tunnels immediately and defend the remainder in staged withdrawals until evacuation complete.”

“Of course, My Queen,” I replied into the communication gem. I ran through the mental map in my mind of the route that my two patrolling squads were following, then continued. “Tenth and Eleventh Squads, regroup and proceed to phase two stations immediately. Prepare for close quarters engagement!” I felt a second ripple of magic run through the walls of the Hive and continued. “First Squad, advance to Sixth’s last position and assist as needed. All other squads, stand by.”

Borer, who stood a short distance behind me with a glowing gem to provide her with light to look over her own map layout, spoke up afterwards. “Silencer groups Sigma and Kage, provide battle support to Squads Fifth, Sixth, Tenth, and Eleventh. Groups Delta, Nova, Phi, and Rai, engage with phase one to flank the enemy forces. Priority targets are Magus and higher-ranked combatants.”

I turned to face Borer and sighed, “I don’t suppose any intel has been gathered on what we’re dealing with? Clearly Magus Knights at the very least.”

“Worse.” Borer frowned. “Judging by what we already know and the last reports from Pedipalp and Whisper, we’re facing Ravens. They’re well-trained in breach tactics and ‘tis certain they have at least a general idea of our capabilities and how to counter them. For the Owls would never send in their prized pets in such force without some degree of confidence… wait, hold on.”

She held a hoof to her left ear and paused to listen. Her expression turned grim as she whispered into the gem, “Are you certain?” Another pause, and she grimaced. “Chiton rot!” She swore, shuffling through her papers.

“What?” I asked the young commander, who I’d rarely heard utter such a severe oath.

“‘Twould seem the Ravens have just become the least of our issues. Two confirmed Talaeus were spotted approaching!”

“Talaeus?” I repeated, letting out a laugh despite the situation. “How flattering; ‘twould seem they’re taking us seriously!”

But Borer did not share my enthusiasm, shaking her head. “Silencers haven’t confirmed their identity, but the first is an earth gryphon wielding a single sword much larger than their standard issue scimitar and a buckler, and wearing an odd set of flight goggles—which is strange given an invasion of our hive would be a ground fight. The other possible Talaeus is what has me especially worried, though.”

“How so?”

Borer looked up from her papers and met my gaze, no humor in her expression or tone. “She carried both a sword and a staff on her back.”

“A Magus Knight Talaeus? And one with a sword?” I frowned. “The Empire doesn’t really have their mages engage in close combat, though. Which is a prerequisite for being able to join their most elite warriors!”

“Precisely,” Borer said with a grim nod, returning to her notes. “‘Twould seem she was wearing the same black armor but without the leggings or heavy pauldrons. It almost seemed like a lighter armor variant, from what I understand.” She sifted through a few more documents as she went on, “She had the black dye with red markings, though, and no respectable Talaeus would let some imposter wear their armor.” She stopped, her hoof tapping a section on a particular file that indicated a high profile individual judging by the red ink along the top of the paper. “Ah. Here…”

I walked over to her side and stared at a file that had a crude illustration of a gryphon eagless who couldn’t have seen more than twenty summers. “Would that be our mystery Talaeus?”

“Optio Camilea Aeylyn,” Borer said, reading the name on the dossier. “A daughter to a veteran Magus Knight sire. Her mother was a respected Fortis Knight Decurion before dying from illness some years back.” Borer’s expression darkened. “She joined the Magus Academy as soon as she reached the conscription age of 16, graduating in less than a year and then she shot through the ranks with incredible speed. And as for becoming a Talaeus, she apparently slew her predecessor in a duel she initiated!” she finished in disbelief.

My jaw fell open as well. “She killed a Talaeus? At her age? She looks like she’s barely molted her fledgling feathers in that portrait!” I protested.

“Yes, and she was apparently the result of quite some squabbling between the Magus Knights and the Talaeus; the former unwilling to let her go and the latter wanting her to begin her combat training under them immediately after the duel ended. What makes her unique is that she has a particular talent in combining her swordsgryphonship with magic. The duel was over in a matter of seconds after her opponent was… beheaded.” She let out a hum that almost sounded intrigued. “‘Twould seem she is a combat magic prodigy, then.”

Methinks that did not give me any reassurance. “So, might she be the one unleashing that magic we’ve been feeling?”

Borer again shook her head. “No, there are indeed other Magus Knights, but they’re not in the front lines with the rest of the enemy forces. They seem to be trying to suppress our communications and protective enchantments from the outside. We’ll therefore need—”

“Commander, this is Phi, do you copy?”

Borer dropped the dossier she had been reading and spoke into the gem whilst I pressed my own closer to my ear to listen. “Go ahead, Phi.”

“Commander, we have visual confirmation on Talaeus Camilea Aeylyn and Talaeus Vimal Talias as well as confirmation on Raven and Magus forces on the move. They are advancing on the Hive entrance, approaching in Century strength.”

“Understood, Phi. Proceed and engage hostiles.” Borer’s expression hardened. “Be advised, Taleus Camilea has extensive wind magic training and is proficient at close-quarters combat. Vamil Talias is a veteran swordsgryphon and should be be engaged only by our most experienced Silencers when possible.”

“Copy that, Commander. Engaging the enemy!”

Borer slumped a bit and massaged a temple. “Talaeus. How? The Owls must be doing this with the Empress’ permission, for I see no other way they’d be approved to send in this many Ravens and Magus along with two of their elite warriors!”

“We’re not looking for a victory, Commander. We’re trying to stall them and buy the Hive time,” I reminded her.

“I’m aware of that,” Borer snapped, only to frown. “Forgive me. I… just…”

I placed a hoof on her shoulder, “Don’t get overwhelmed, Commander. You’re not fighting this by yourself, after all. Trust in your Silencers as I trust in my Guard.”

“Methinks I know you are right, but… this is the first time I’m sending changelings into actual battle! ‘Tis certain that I have never directed my subordinates to openly engage in mortal combat… and certainly not against Talaeus!”

I allowed myself a chuckle. “A fair point, but this only means that the Owls, at least, have finally acknowledged that we are a worthy threat. ‘Tis in fact the highest of compliments,” I suggested with a wry grin.

But far from flattered, Borer’s expression soured. “You wouldst forgive me for not sharing in your enthusiasm, Captain. I much prefer to win my battles without fighting.”

“‘Tis a good quality for a changeling to have, too,” I agreed. “However… I am a Guard. ‘We are the shield that hides the dagger’.”

Borer sighed heavily and recited in turn, “‘And we are the shadow that wields the dagger.’”

“For the Hive and the Queen,” I said with a dip of the head.

“For the Queen and the Hive,” Borer replied as the faint sounds of fighting erupted in the tunnels ahead of us.

The Oath of the Shield and Shadow, for those of you who may be curious, is a traditional oath that all Guards and Silencers recite when they first join their respective forces.

Whilst we are separate service branches, we share the common bond of service to our Hive and Queen. What Borer and I had spoken was but a small part of this oath; an oath to stand together, even though we serve in different ways.

The Hive’s Guard, much like Equestria’s Army and Royal Guard or the Empire’s Talons and Knights, are the ones who will face a threat directly and always place themselves before the Hive and an enemy force. The Silencers, in turn, are akin to the Black Lances or the Ravens; fighting from the shadows and serving to protect the Hive in less direct and oft far less pleasant or ‘honorable’ means.

Though I could continue, I would prefer to pass the quill to the third contributor of this particular battle’s tale, one who took the combined efforts of Ambassador Kaval as well as our Queen to convince to give her side—the gryphon side—of the story. Before she takes up the quill, I ask that our readers keep in mind that she was serving her country in a time of war.

Much like Raven leader Orel Travina, whom we have had some dealings with post-war, she did what her duty asked of her and what she believed must be done to secure her nation’s survival, even if the work ‘twas perchance less than glorious.

‘Tis certain to me that any changelings who may read this will immediately condemn her and those who attacked the Hive, no less than Cloudsdale Pegasi may condemn Orel Travina herself. But ’tis important to remember that we openly assisted an enemy of the Empire, and thus lost any and all right to call ourselves neutral. We chose our side, and the Empire was fully within its rights to target us after we delivered their invasion plans to Equestria.

In truth, methinks our kind are no less innocent than any pony or gryphon who fought in the bloody war. Indeed, I’m sure Commander Borer would readily confirm that Silencers alone were responsible for a considerable number of assassinations and even some outright atrocities in those dark days, most of which I was kept unaware of. ‘Twould be an outright lie to state otherwise.

In the end, war ‘tis a bloody and brutal affair. ‘Twill bring out great deeds of heroism and bravery, true. But ‘tis also when the ugliest and most vicious traits of our kind will oft show their face, poisoning ourselves and our dealings with other races. To borrow the saying of the great pony Sun Master himself, whose works have made their way into our libraries as well:

“The art of War is of vital importance to the Kingdom. ‘Tis a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence, ‘tis a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.”

‘Tis also worth noting that at the time, the Empire believed that both Celestia and Equestria as a whole were a danger to not just them, but all races of Tellus should she succumb to the same insanity as her sister. Any underlying goals among those who set forth the motions that lead to the war aside, ‘twas seen by them as vital to end the hold Celestia had over the sun before she turned such power on them or worse, went mad and destroyed the world entirely. Misguided or not, this was the belief of the Empire, and thus they acted in what they thought were the interests of all.

The Lepidoptes Hive, in turn, saw the Empire’s actions as a threat to both Equestria and the world at large. We understood that whether we involved ourselves or not, the war would happen, and what ‘twould mean to our kind were Equestria to fall. ‘Twas the future of our race at stake no less than the gryphons, so we did what we thought was right, and forced the Empire to push forward their operations before they were fully prepared. Our actions, be it for good or evil in the eyes of those who fought, had consequences, and the Ravens had the tools to mete them out.

So, with this in mind, I will now turn things over to the third and final author of this contribution to the battle’s story.

—Rachnia Silkweave

Thank you, Captain Silkweave. Methinks your words say much of your wisdom as a military leader, and your Queen was fortunate to have one such as you at the time of the war’s opening conflicts and thereafter. I, however, would probably not be as generous in my words were it me in your place.

Greetings, dear readers. I am Camilea Aeylyn; the very first Magus-trained gryphon to have ever taken on the title of Talaeus. I am also the youngest to ever gain the honor. ‘Twas unusual for a Magus Knight back then to ever approach the battlefield head-on, but my mother’s tutelage in the way of the blade when I was a fledgling is what drove me to take the path that I did.

My age as well as my talents likely garnered me the attention I had received early on, both negative and positive. As ‘twas said earlier, my rather peculiar situation had eventually led to a duel with a Talaeus who, if I recall, made a rather vulgar comment about my sire performing unsavory acts for higher ranking male officers to get me to where I was. A quick duel and beheaded opponent later, I was awarded the opal helm and armor of my adversary and instantly accepted into the Talaeus ranks.

At the time of this story’s telling, it had been almost three years since I joined the Talaeus, and I had just seen my nineteenth year. My experiences, both during my training in the Magus Knights as well as amongst what ponies call the Red Talons, had given me, to borrow the old Minotaur phrase, a bit of a chip on the shoulder.

‘Twas something that my partner and combat teacher, Centurion Vimal Talias, was fully aware of. Unlike me, he was a veteran warrior, and looking back on those days now, mayhap I was too harsh to him. He never openly insulted me so much as teased, much like a sire would to their stubborn fledgling.

During the battle beneath Mosclaw, I would learn that, whilst I was mayhap gifted, I was still inexperienced in the ways of warfare. ‘Twas a lesson that, I believe, Vimal had been trying to teach me since I first gained the honored opal armor, but one that would be driven home in my first true combat action.

—Tribune Camilea Aeylyn
Head of Training, Magus Academy
Arnau
Gryphon Kingdom

Hunting Shadows

“Camilea, you’re going to get lost in these tunnels if you keep storming ahead like that,” Vimal laughed, flicking excess green blood from his blade as he approached, his expression almost mirthful even if his were eyes unreadable behind his special-issue goggles that were supposed to provide the means to spot shapeshifters in disguise at close range.

I could not claim credit for it, as my specialty was combat magic, not sensory spells, but ‘twas an initial, crude effort of the Owls to give some means to foil Changeling facades. “Mayhap you should hold back, Optio. The Owls didn’t assign all these Ravens and Magus to our command just so you could get yourself killed in some misplaced need to prove yourself to your Talaeus brethren.”

I scoffed, lighting my staff to illuminate the tunnel better, “Or, mayhap I am simply quicker and your age is simply catching up to you, Vimal.”

His grin widened, sending a fresh wave of ire through me as my not-entirely-playful insult was brushed off like so much dust from the ceiling. “Your fighting spirit is admirable, lass, but you mustn’t forget the mission. Impressive though your mixture of magic and fighting arts unquestionably are, ‘tis asking for one of these shapeshifters to cut you down if you get separated from us in these tunnels. These are unique opponents whose full range of abilities we know not. ‘Twould be unwise to overestimate your own abilities in their face, or your combat record as a Taleaus will be short indeed.”

I just barely started to form a retort when a new figure approached. “Centurion Talias, we’ve received word from the flanking forces.”

He was a Raven, and like the rest of the Ravens assigned to this mission, he was decked in gray leather armor that was enchanted to give a slight increase to its meager durability, as well as some experimental light mail beneath it that ‘twas supposed to be some proof against blades if not bows.

‘Twas heavier than what they were used to, but the Owls had decided to play it safe with this mission, sacrificing some of the mobility of their assassins for better protection and armaments against an unknown threat. He was armed with a scimitar, three fire crystals on his belt, and ancestors knew how many knives and other tools of their trade hidden in his vest.

“Well, ‘tis about time; that means we managed to circumvent the spell that was jamming our crystal communications, then?” Vimal asked in an expectant tone.

“To a degree, yes, but our Magus team assigned to maintaining the links need more time to restore it completely,” the veteran assassin replied. “The initial resistance we met has received reinforcements and our progress is slow. Whilst we’ve gained a foothold in this tunnel, ‘tis certain that if we do not push the flanking decades forward quickly, we’ll lose our momentum and the shapeshifters will gain the advantage. Either to counterattack or make their escape.”

I turned to Vimal and met his gaze, “I’ll move to the western tunnel at the first fork. We should be able to carve our way through and divert the enemy’s attention that way.” I turned to the Raven and continued, “Before we engage, mayhap you might tell me how the new combat Magus are faring?”

“From what I have overheard, better than we had anticipated. The tunnels are restricting them from unleashing more powerful spells, of course, but our losses are few. Unlike the reports coming out of Equestria thus far, I might add.”

I nodded, “Good, that will rankle some feathers when I prove my methods were right, then.” I made my way towards the direction the Raven had come from, but was stopped by Vamil as he placed a claw on my shoulder.

“Camilea,” he began, his joking tone absent, his usual smirk replaced with a stern expression. “Remember what I said, lass. No glory-seeking. ‘Tis no need to prove yourself to anyone here; stay sharp and don’t lose focus.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yes, yes, and don’t keel over from overexerting yourself, you old crow—”

“Camilea,” he repeated, digging his talons into my armor. “I mean what I say. The mission’s goals come first: gather intelligence from the enemy, eradicate any resistance, secure prisoners if possible.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, but it held the firmness of a tiercel who had seen many bloody battles. “Is that clear, Optio?”

The use of my rank got me to straighten my stance a bit. I let out a huff but nodded, banging a clawed fist to my chest. “Understood, Centurion Talias.”

His eyes lost some of their hardness and he nodded. “Battle is upon us. Fight well, Camilea.”

“You as well, Vamil.”

With that, we separated as the Raven agent and I made our way through the tunnels. The distant echoes of fighting reverberated off the walls. Whilst I wasn’t worried, ‘twould be a blatant lie for me to state I did not feel the tension that hung in the air.

“These changelings…” the Raven began, his words shaking me from my thoughts. “They’re not quite what we had anticipated.”

If I didn’t know any better, it almost sounded like he was commending our enemy with his tone. “Odd. I would have thought the Owls would have done plenty of research on them before taking action.”

“We had no choice, were we to catch them before they fled. That’s the problem; we still know next to nothing about them aside from what we’re learning as we fight them.” Frustration laced his words now. “They attack us head-on like headstrong Saddle Arabian soldiers, but move with a grace and fluidity akin to an Equestrian Aerial Corps pegasus at the same time. And to make matters worse, there’s those…” He shook his head. “Methinks I do not know what to call them, but those changelings in dark armor that move in the shadows are an even match for us!”

I made no comment on that; he was right. The Silencers, as I would learn they are called years later, were giving the Ravens much difficulty, their equal in blades but even more elusive. They moved silently, they knew the tunnels well and were just as skilled in close quarters combat as well as distance attacks. They were providing the much-needed support their heavier armored comrades needed to hold the chokepoints that were our only routes deeper into the hive and all we sought.

“All the more reason for us to not give these changelings a reprieve and form an effective counter,” I replied as we turned a corner, the distant echoes of spellfire and steel clashing becoming much sharper now.

“Yes, well, this may have been easier dealt with had we taken more time to-” His words were cut off as he let out a gurgle. I spun around, sword flashing in the dim light of my staff, parrying the quick and well-practiced slash of an ebony blade wielded in a faint, green glow.

“Almost,” I addressed the changeling warrior, who positioned themselves between the dying Raven’s body and myself. The glint of a crimson-soaked knife in the side of the tiercel’s throat caught my vision for a moment as I reared up into a ready stance, my body trembling with excitement and an adrenaline surge as I faced a shapeshifting foe for the first time. “At least you face me as you truly are.”

“Do not think I am showing you honor, Camilea Aeylyn of the Talaeus,” the changeling stated in Aeric, speaking in a low male voice accompanied by a sibilant hiss. “I am merely conserving my power, as I undoubtedly will have many more of your kind to fight and slay this night.”

“Then you are a fool to hold back, shapeshifter, for ‘tis certain you will not survive me.” I shifted to heft both my blade and staff into a guard stance, with the former in front and the latter held behind but ready to cast in an instant, either with a direct magic attack or a support spell that would strengthen my strikes.

“We shall see.” The changeling pushed the Raven towards me whilst darting to my left. I sidestepped the Raven’s body and pointed my staff at the shapeshifter, unleashing a bolt of raw magic at them. The changeling, without pause, spun their sword to meet my bolt, and to my surprise, batted it away as if it were only a child’s toy and not a lethal arcane power.

I moved to close the distance between them when the sharp sting of pain flashed across my cheek. I grunted and flapped my wings, leaping to the side as a second changeling in the same dusky armor lunged forward from the shadows, blade aiming to pierce my throat. Taking advantage of the opening, I thrust my sword whilst channeling magic into it. The changeling let out a pained cry as my blade cut a deep gash into their side without touching them. I held my blade before me as the changeling duo took a defensive stance, the second wincing as they moved.

The faint ripple of air moved across the edge of my sword, drawing their attention.

“So ‘tis true you wield an exotic form of wind magic, as the reports state,” The first changeling said in his accented Aeric, leaving me admittedly impressed that their intelligence service had a dossier on me. “I grant your choice of a short sword is clever; it gives the enemy the impression of having a short reach, only to cut them down with the invisible edge of your wind blade.”

“You flatter me with the praise, Changeling.” I crouched a bit whilst holding my wind-enchanted blade before me.

“I simply state a fact.” A shift in the air was my only warning as a third shadow swooped down upon me; ‘twas only my keen perception of the air currents around me that saved me as I leaped backwards and aimed my staff at my would-be assailant. The sharp howling of a razorwind filled the tunnel and the pained scream of the changeling could be heard. Not wasting a moment for the others to make their move, I gripped my staff and blade with both sets of talons and swung in their general direction, letting out a battlecry as I did.

Deep gouges ran across the tunnel walls and dust clouds kicked up into the air, spinning into the maelstrom I had created. I let the wind run rampant down the tunnel for several moments before cutting off my magic and disrupting it. When the dust cleared, the body of the third changeling lay before me, a deep cut running along their side and across their barrel accompanied by several smaller and shallower slashes from my weaker but more indiscriminate razorwind.

But to my consternation, the first and second changeling were nowhere to be seen.

“Optio Aeylyn!”

Facing away as I was, I heard rather than saw the trio of Ravens and a single Magus making their way towards me. The latter’s identity was confirmed to me by the magic identity spell I sensed; a means that Owl-affiliated Magus had come up with to confirm between Magus that the other was not an imposter. Not looking back, I held up a claw, and they immediately halted. “Come no closer! There are two more of those dark armored changelings here. They’re targeting me.” I warned as I glanced around. “They’re still here, no doubt. Isn’t that right, shapeshifters?” I called out the last part to my hidden attackers.

The Ravens were immediately on the defensive at my words, blades drawn. The Magus drew a short blade in a smooth motion as well, mimicking the stance of the others whilst she raised her staff and channeled a spell in preparation for an attack, a product of the training I’d given her.

What happened next remains seared into my memories, clear to this day. I chanced a glance back to the Ravens and the Magus Knight for only a moment. In the next moment, a clicking sound was heard just before a barrage of steel, seemingly manifesting from the walls themselves, was unleashed upon the four. Two of the Ravens managed to roll away in time whilst the third Raven and the Magus were not so lucky. A dozen steel bolts pierced through their armor and bodies, cutting them down in seconds; they were dead before they hit the ground.

Worse, the faint sound of additional clicking mechanisms could be heard behind me.

“Move!” I cried out.

The two Ravens followed my lead as I sprinted further down the tunnel. The whistling of steel could be heard behind us, and one of the Ravens let out a hiss as they were grazed in the back by the trap’s projectiles.

We sprinted past an archway in the tunnel and, mercifully, the steel projectiles didn’t follow us past that point. The injured Raven cursed, unable to tend to their wound, and gently touched the cut. Their eyes widened, and they took a sniff of the blood on their claw. “Crows, damn them…” They muttered, fishing for something from an internal pocket. “Come on, where is it? Where?!”

“What is it?” I asked, my eyes scanning the tunnel and watching for any movement.

“Whatever the blade that cut me, methinks ‘twas poisoned! I had an all-purpose antidote, but now it’s gone!”

“Can you move?” asked his partner, a young eagless judging by her voice.

“Yes, but my talons are growing numb and—”

The sound of flesh being pierced and the grunt of pain drew my immediate attention. I spun around to see the eagless with her scimitar in claw, colored in a streak of the other Raven’s blood. A dagger was embedded in the injured Raven’s chest, his eyes locked in shock with his assailant’s as he tried and failed to draw breath.

I gripped my staff tighter as I quickly reached the only possible conclusion. “How long?” I asked the Raven-disguised Changeling.

But the eagless said nothing, instead spinning around in a fluid motion and slashing the Raven across the throat. As her victim fell to the ground, she turned to face me and partially reverted her appearance, now showing eyes that were glowing green and devoid of a pupil.

“Such dishonorable tactics! Damn you!” I snarled, moving forward to slash at the false Raven, who dodged my anger-driven strike easily despite the wind spell attached. A flash of green flame filled my vision for a moment and was promptly replaced with the first changeling that had attacked me minutes ago.

“What you call dishonorable, we call survival,” he informed me as he flitted his wings with an insectile buzzing sound, avoiding a second strike with my blade. We then circled each other, neither willing to make the first move. My wind blade hummed with a sharp, clear note as I channeled a spell through my staff.

Seconds passed, and ‘twas the changeling who finally decided to make the first move. With a surge of magic, their horn lit up and a bolt of green light shot towards me. I released a barrier spell at the last moment, repelling the bolt and causing it to ricochet to a nearby tunnel wall.

The changeling clearly had intended to use that as a distraction, diving low to cut me at the legs. I met their horizontal swipe with the flat of my short sword, promptly pushing it to the side and avoiding a second magic bolt from their horn. The changeling, however, did not let up, pouncing with a snarl whilst gripping their blade in their magic before spinning it around their person, like a saw blade.

I ducked beneath the wild attack just enough to narrowly avoid a beheading as the changeling next threw their still spinning blade, now enchanted and fully in thrall to their magic, which I was finding very difficult to disrupt or even detect. The blade abruptly halted its trajectory before spinning towards me a second time. Pumping magic through my blade, a surge of wind was unleashed from the sword as I swung. The changeling’s blade was knocked from the air, its green aura flickering out as well.

I took advantage of the moment and aimed my staff at the changeling, molding my magic into a different form before firing a swath of flame from it. The changeling let out a hiss, catching the barest tongue of the flame and now sporting a burn across their right foreleg. Admirably, they drew two daggers from a pouch and held them in a defensive stance, their horn glowing threateningly as they crouched low.

“So…” I said, taking a breath of air as my staff remained pointed at them. “Where is that second changeling you were with?”

“Would you believe me if I told you?” he replied in kind.

I laughed.

A dozen more knives floated before the changeling, and I barely had a chance to react as they were flung at me, like a salvo of cross bolts from a team of Black Lances. I took a step back as the changeling lunged towards me, forelegs engulfed briefly in flames before revealing sharpened blades of chitin intent on eviscerating me.

They realized a moment too late their error as I held up two of the talons gripping my staff. A heartbeat later my body was encased in a cloak of razor wind. The changeling was promptly cut several times by the invisible sickles of wind and thrown hard into a wall, letting out a weak cough as they fell to the ground.

“Almost…” I said, repeating myself from earlier. “...but not quite.” I cautiously approached the changeling, blade ready to end them.

The changeling laughed, however. “Don’t—” A wet cough “—be so sure…”

Moving their jaw, the sound of something being bitten down and cracking could be heard. I felt an alarming and sudden surge of magic, and barely had time to raise a barrier as I was sent flying down the tunnel by an explosion of raw magic. Thankfully I managed to avoid any injury with my barrier raised, but still landed hard whilst a sharp ringing filled my ears for several long moments.

Where the changeling had once been, there was now a small, smoking crater that had cut into the side of the tunnel. No trace of the changeling remained other than a few fragments of their armor and helm. The faint smell of ash and burnt flesh wafted into my nostrils.

Letting out a sigh, I turned down the tunnel, towards the direction of the flanking gryphon forces. If just three of these skilled changeling assassins were able to cause this much trouble, then I could only imagine how poorly my comrades were faring.

With that in mind, I made my way onward with a bit more speed in my step than before.

My apologies, dear readers, but I’m afraid that I will need to cut my narration short. I’m starting to remember some of the darker moments of this battle that followed. Moments that gave me years of sleepless nights during and after the war…

Queen Scylla, whilst I believe I will never be able to fully atone for the atrocities I was complicit in, both on that day when we invaded your Hive, nor in the months and years that followed, please understand this much: had I known then what I do now, I would have personally stormed the Owls’ headquarters and stopped them from what they had planned. They were smart in keeping no permanent records on their… experiments… but that does not erase what had been done from the memories of the few changelings who survived. Or my own.

The Talaeus are taught to never show fear or remorse when it comes to battle, but I do not believe this had ever been completely the case for warriors; even ones such as us. Even Ambassador Kaval has had regrets, of that I am sure of. ‘Tis been stated time and time again throughout the telling of these bloody days that war is atrocious. It made me do things that I didn’t believe I was capable of; things that I still hate myself for to this day.

But good came out of it as well, impossible though it seemed at the time. I have made several visits to the pony lands in peacetime, as I have taken part in military exchanges and diplomatic tours as a high-ranked representative of both the Kingdom military and the Magus legion in the past. I have found that old enemies can become friends, yet rivalries can remain, strengthening both the skills and bonds of former foes in the process.

With regard to the latter, my visits to Equestria are not entirely for professional purposes. For there is a very certain pony there I visit whenever I can; another equally unlikely master of swords and sorcery I first encountered on an airship foredeck—a pony whose blade art is every bit the equal of my own.

A pony whose formidable skills I test myself against at every opportunity, and of whom mutual enmity eventually gave way to the greatest respect.

—Tribune Camilea Aeylyn

I thank you, Tribune Aeylyn, for enduring the recollection of that battle. Whilst it pains me to read of what happened during that awful night, methinks it has also given me some sense of closure. My changelings faced a foe that was not intent on offering quarter, but they did so selflessly, intent on buying their loved ones precious time needed to escape and a chance to survive.

I apologize for being so bold to suggest this, but it may do you some good to talk with others about how you feel, Camilea. I understand it may be hard, and you may not feel it right to share such things, but take it from those who are far more attuned to emotions that to keep them bottled up inside is good for neither the body nor mind. I am certain that the Gryphon Kingdom has means of helping you and others who have experienced the harshness of war. A body in balance with the spirit and mind that dwell within is a healthy one, after all.

When you feel fit to continue once more with your side of this battle, please let me and Captain Firefly know. For now, I shall take some time to remember the sacrifices made that day with my changelings that have accompanied me to Canterlot. The Princess has also invited me to a quiet dinner so that we may talk in greater detail of our experiences during the war, but for now, I shall spend my time in reflection.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

“Battles are lost in the same spirit they are won.” —Walt Whitman

Author's Note

Hello everyone, I’ve crawled out from my rock once more to bring you changelings doing changeling things, but with swords and other sharp objects this time! Hope you all enjoyed it, because despite how long this initially took for me to write out, I really enjoyed creating it! I’m all for ponies and gryphons, but changelings tend to be the catalyst for my writing by and large, I think. Firesight has more or less let me throw my headcanon at the wall and see what sticks, and I suppose he’s been fine with it so far, heh.

There’s of course going to be a second part to this battle, but for now, this is what I’ve written. It’s the first time we’ve seen changelings in active, direct combat, and this will mark as the true entry into the war for the Lepidoptes Hive. Before then it was all cloak and dagger, mostly done by the Silencers. You’ll be seeing more of them as well as shine the limelight on the Lepidoptes Guard in part two, so look forward to that!

For those of you who are curious, Camliea Aeylyn was an original character I had been toying with in the back of my mind for some time, probably way back before I even wrote the first changeling back in the previous story. I figure that at least one Magus Knight would’ve made it among the ranks of the Talaeus, and well, I guess she was the answer to that idea I had. Firesight seems to like her, too, so that’s a bonus! Her and her Vamil Talias will of course get more attention in the next installment of this battle as well.

Again, thanks for joining us on this story so far, and I sincerely hope you all liked it. Of course, I’d also like to extend a huge thanks to Firesight, AJ Aficionado, and Silentwoodfire, who have been gracious with the suggestions and praise and managed to make this chapter look much nicer than it would have otherwise been! The narrative style of this story is undoubtedly unique among the plethora of pony-war fics, but if nothing else, I like it so far (hence why I’ve contributed to it).

Right, that’s all from me for now. Take care everyone, and keep on keeping on!

-Denim_Blue

Thank you, Denim_Blue! You are to Changelings what AJA is to thestrals, and you both enrich my works with your rich and well-thought headcanon.

Hard to believe it's been three years, but here we are, folks, thirty chapters in and still going strong. In different circumstances, I'd call this story complete with the defeat of Thunderbolt and start a new one, but unfortunately, the curse of the sequels would take hold and all subsequent stories would get progressively fewer readers. So this continues for as long as takes.

Thanks for following, and if you like DB's Changeling lore, feel free to check out his other stories as well! He writes in the Gentlemanverse and has several successful stories there.

—Firesight

Second Offensive: 3 - Rock of Equestria

To all readers—

‘Tis Fell Flight writing now. As Captain Firefly has departed to see her son and daughter off to the Gryphon Kingdom; the former to an uncertain reception and the latter to potentially dire dangers, I will take up the quill at least briefly in her absence.

For those that are curious, preparations continue to honor Omega, but ‘twill not happen immediately, much as we might wish it. Not just for the difficulties involved in reactivating it as an active outpost, but because the Society of Omega Survivors has decided that we will coincide our beloved base’s celebration with the 30th anniversary of the war’s start, and the Outpost’s subsequent last stand.

That leaves us enough time to fully prepare, ensuring that certain of its facilities are rebuilt—we do intend to leave some of the ruins intact to make clear to visitors how bitter and bloody the final battle was—and that various new exhibits, monuments and museums are erected in time for their reveal.

But I will not dwell on that now, having spent far too much time on it over the summer. In truth, the contents of this coming entry were a subject of some debate even before the Captain’s departure, as we have received requests from friends and readers on both sides to return to combat—to show something of the renewed Imperial offensive that was launched on September 4th, three days after the war began.

‘Tis not that we are unwilling to. ‘Tis simply that none of us were in action at that time, ensconced in Cloudsdale as we were. As combat was not in our immediate future—‘twould be a full fortnight before we set sail for battle again—‘twas the Captain’s original intent to pass the quill to the Nightborne and Highborne. The former would show the negotiations between the Lunar Council and Captain Typhoon that took place that night in Hollow Shades, whilst the latter would detail their own negotiations with Imperial agents as to the terms of their alliance, including and most especially the disposition of Thestralslovakia after the war.

Having spent time with the Highborne that apparently forms the base of my bat-pony blood, and even been received by the High Priestess herself in my guise of Emissary, ‘tis certain I have a few things to say about that. ‘Twould be best saved for later, however.

I will instead open this chapter with but a brief post-duel interlude before we fulfill reader requests, returning to tell the tale of the war proper.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral High Emissary
Thestral Enclave
Canterlot

Sickbay
EAS Loyalty
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage
September 4th, 1139 AC
2355 hours

Methinks I cannot even begin to describe the emotions I felt to not just watch the duel between Thunderbolt and Gavian, but to hear my mentor’s name bespoiled as his evil deeds were laid bare.

Far from impressed at the feat or satisfied over his defeat even though I knew it necessary, ‘twas nothing but the greatest sorrow I felt to see him not just bested, but completely and utterly broken. Indeed, methinks I felt the pain of Gavian’s final strike just as keenly as he did; felt his agony as he was forced to learn the lesson at the point of a well-wielded gryphon blade that there was nothing harmonious or holy about his hatred.

That it neither made him invincible, nor granted him the power of life and death over all gryphons.

‘Twas a sorrow that quickly gave way to fear as Gavian announced himself the victor, raising that well-wielded blade to deliver a killing blow. “No!” Blindside and I shouted, but Gavian acted as if he did not hear us, and we had no way to stay his slaying strike.

Nor, I knew deep down, did we have any right to stay it, given Thunderbolt’s innumerable crimes against not just Gavian, but the entire gryphon race.

But at the apex of his upswing, he hesitated. I knew not why he stopped, as I saw him looking around in what seemed like surprise and confusion—but stop he did as Captain Typhoon reached him, blocking his blade and convincing him to stand down.

With some parting words of triumph and insult—what did he mean when he told Thunderbolt he was sparing him so he could ‘salvage his soul’? I remember thinking—Gavian stepped off him and then tried to fly towards us, only to collapse to the cloud surface as Typhoon’s astonishing technique lapsed and his own ugly injuries overcame him.

‘Twas not that I had no sympathy for our young friend, or lacked admiration for his incredible deed. But my first thoughts were of Thunderbolt, and thus I raced to him and swept him up, cradling his broken body to me whilst not even waiting for the healers.

“Hold on, sir! I’ve got you...” I tried to reassure him—I’d never gotten out of the habit of calling him by the officer honorific, as he’d had me do during my training to get me used to military address and obedience to orders. He was crying as I hefted him, and ‘twas not just from pain, I realized as he hung limp in my arms; his defeat punctuated by the severe slash across his chest from which he still oozed blood.

Looking back, methinks ‘twas only the cleaved four-point chest latch of his wingblade harness that had saved his life. It had took the brunt of the horrifically powerful blow, robbing Gavian’s ultimate attack of just enough momentum to prevent his blade from penetrating Thunderbolt’s shattered rib cage entirely, keeping it from his heart and lungs.

Which ‘twas not to say he was out of danger, from either his severe physical or emotional wounds. “It’s over. Just let me die, Fell Flight…” he begged me through a rasping cough, to which tears welled in my eyes.

“No!” I shouted again as I took flight with him for the airship; a barely flightworthy Blindside beside me—in hindsight, methinks that was the first time she’d taken flight since being wounded in the superstorm fight.

‘Tis true. And ‘twas two days earlier than I was supposed to fly, too. How you felt is how I felt as well, First Lieutenant, except that I also felt utterly useless, unable to even help carry him inside. With my flight muscles still inflamed and not meant to be used, ‘twas all I could do to keep up with you despite the pain in my still-healing sinew, and try to hold his hoof.

—Blindside

Your presence alone was still appreciated, First Sergeant, both by myself and methinks by Thunderbolt at a moment he thought he had no friends and no reason to go on. He later told me that the two of us helped give him that reason, just to know that we were there and still loved him even after all he had done.

—Fell Flight

“You must live, sir! For me and for Blindside, please live!” I pleaded as we landed on the upper gun deck and Blindside ran ahead of me to open the door that led to the ship’s infirmary, or ‘sickbay’ as they called it.

He stayed silent after that except for his labored breathing, coughing and wheezing as I carried him into the infirmary. I shouted for assistance as I laid him down on a table, but was then flung bodily away from him by a Naval healer mare with a curse. She immediately picked him up in her aura and repositioned him on the surgical surface to take pressure off his cracked-open chest, and then severely berated me for moving him in such a state, saying I was only worsening his wounds.

She then ordered me out. I knew not if she had the authority to do so—she bore the Royal Navy enlisted rank of Senior Starpony, which was roughly on par with my own rank; who was actually superior given different service rank structures were still somewhat ill-established at that point—but I did not care, initially refusing to leave his side. Nevertheless, Blindside pulled me back out of the way, saying gently we needed to give her space.

Though annoyed, the Naval healer did not press the issue further as she began focusing her aura on his chest, trying to plug the punctures of his lungs. His coughing became less frequent as her supporting apprentice healers worked on setting bones and sealing wounds; as I watched, the ugly gash in his chest began to close as a series of what I can only describe as seamstress stitches were used to seal the breach—something they only did when the damage was so severe they couldn’t mend a wound quickly or directly with their healing magic.

‘Twas only a minute later that Typhoon arrived, but distraught as I was, I regret I remember little of what was said. In fact, I only recall him ordering the healers to let him approach Thunderbolt’s broken body, then studying him whilst my mentor asked weakly if he was there to mock or finish him.

The Captain’s response was dry but something to the effect that ‘twas far worse than that—he had come to save him, eliciting a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He then tapped my mentor in a few places on his chest and side away from his wounds, causing Thunderbolt to give a low groan and then fall silent, his eyes closing and head lolling to the side.

Once his efforts were complete and Thunderbolt had passed out from whatever had been done to him—the healers later told us they had not sedated him immediately because they feared he would not wake up if they did so before he was stabilized—the Captain approached us, though I regret that I once again cannot recall his words.

He told us and the healers that he had put Thunderbolt to sleep safely and supercharged his body’s natural healing abilities—I did not question it, but simply assumed he could, given what his incredible art had done for Gavian.

He further told us that Thunderbolt would recover, and to let the healers work, gently herding us out. He also ordered us to avoid Firefly until he got back from Hollow Shades, as ‘twas likely she would have little sympathy and no little anger at us given Gavian’s state. And finally, he promised he would visit Thunderbolt—and us—later, after he returned from his negotiations with the Nightborne, thanking us for our support of his plan.

—Blindside

Thank you, First Sergeant. Methinks you held up far better that night than I did, as my emotions were so roiled I remember little of his visit. You say he ordered us to stay away from Firefly? ‘Tis certain I do not recall that. But even if I had, ‘twas very likely I would have deliberately disobeyed it. And methinks the outcome would have been no different.

—Fell Flight

After finally being escorted out by sentries summoned by the annoyed medical staff, Blindside and I stood vigil outside of sickbay after, able only to await some word of Thunderbolt’s fate as he entered surgery, whether for good or for ill.

‘Twas not immediately forthcoming—’twas certain his slashed chest and broken ribs required a great deal of magical mending, to say nothing of whatever other internal injuries he had suffered that we could not see—and by 2 AM, methinks I was nodding off to the point that I was completely unaware of a new presence until he spoke in my ear.

“Master Sergeant?” a familiar stallion’s voice asked.

“Sergeant Sentry?” My slitted pupils focused just enough to recognize Sky Sentry’s face before me.

“Aye,” he confirmed, bearing a pot of steaming tea and some fresh pastries on a platter; their sweet smell causing an immediate rumble of my stomach. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but have either of you eaten or slept?”

“Not since this morning, and not in over a day,” I told him blearily, and ‘twas the truth given we’d been kept on alert for our arrival, and then affairs with my family and Thunderbolt had kept me awake after that. I normally slept during the day anyway, but looking back—’tis certain I wasn’t even much capable of simple math at that point—it had now been over thirty hours since I had last closed my eyes.

“Then rest,” he told me, using his wing feathers to pour the pot into the first of two mugs. “‘Tis mint tea from the galley and the galley cooks promise ‘twill help you sleep. I watched the duel with the Naval crew from one of the gun decks. I’ll stay here for you both,” he promised. “If any change should happen for better or for worse, I’ll come get you.”

“‘Tis appreciated,” Blindside answered gratefully, starting to reach for the mug with a wing before grimacing at the pain that shot through her muscles, which had stiffened up quickly after her impromptu flight. She then reached for it with a hoof instead, picking it up by the thick handle slightly awkwardly before sitting back to hold it in both hooves, carefully raising the steaming drink to her muzzle. “After the revelations of the duel, ‘tis certain we feel like we are now the only friends Thunderbolt has.”

“‘Be assured you are not,” he said simply as he passed me a pastry, all but forcing it into my hooves. “He now has me as well.”

“You?” I wasn’t sure if ‘twas simple tiredness that made me not understand his statement. “Why?”

“Because methinks at this moment, I am the only one who understands him,” he told us simply but solemnly as he poured the second mug of tea.

“Understands him?” I said blankly, exchanging a confused glance with Blindside.

“Aye.” He squeezed his eyes shut tightly in pain before speaking. “Because ‘twould seem that twelve years ago, Thunderbolt went through what I did four days ago.”

‘Tis certain that caught us both short as we fully took his meaning. “Sergeant, I…” I began tentatively, only to trail off as he held up a halting hoof.

“With all due respect, ma’am, you have already said your piece,” he told me somewhat shortly as he passed me the steaming mug of tea next. “You have helped me, and I am grateful. For learning that Thunderbolt has in fact suffered as I have, ‘tis my intention to help him.

“Methinks I now have as much interest in saving him as you, for I alone know his pain. And mayhap by helping him, I will help myself,” he admitted with a brief quiver of his voice and glimmer in his eyes. “You have both done all you can for him. So see to yourselves and allow me to stand vigil over him in your stead.”

I fell silent, speechless at his incredible kindness as Blindside stared at him. She then approached him, looking into his eyes with her one good iris before hugging him hard.

“Nopony should ever know that pain,” she told him with a sniffle. “Thank you, Sky Sentry. And know that if you will be his friend, you will forever be ours as well,” she further promised him, and I could only nod my agreement, though fraternization rules regarding the difference in ranks would preclude me from doing so in the civilian sense.

“You are welcome, Sergeant. Now sleep,” he instructed again, gently shooing us away.

We both retired after that, with Blindside heading for the enlisted racks whilst I belatedly remembered I was supposed to be on liberty, and my promise to spend the night with my surviving siblings.

I barely recall the flight over, or the conversation I had with my slightly-frantic sisters afterwards. They had not gone to sleep whilst waiting for me and were alarmed by the fresh bloodstains from carrying Thunderbolt on my uniform—methinks I hadn’t even noticed them until they pointed them out. Despite my worries, either from the tea or simple exhaustion, I fell asleep in my old bed within minutes, and did not wake again until mid-morning.

As events would have it, it might have been better if my leave had lasted another day, but that unpleasant story lies in the future. For now, ‘tis time to return our focus to the war itself, describing the frontline fighting once again. And to that end, ‘tis my great honor and privilege to introduce the latest member of our writing team; a pony who needs no introduction to most.

He is known as The Rock Wall, or simply The Rock of Equestria, and ‘twas a moniker he earned not just for the defense he is most famous for, but for a series of them starting in the initial days of the war. Defenses that bought us precious time when Equestria was in desperate need of it.

Though ‘tis certain some would say that one should not be made famous for retreating, Firefly herself would teach in her tactical classes that there is no more difficult task for an Army or even a small unit than a fighting withdrawal. He proved to be a master of them, and over time turned them into a tool for bleeding gryphon forces dry.

—Fell Flight

Greetings to old comrades, former foes and other interested readers alike. Whilst Captain Firefly is traveling with her son and daughter on the initial leg of their journey to the Gryphon Kingdom, I will take up the pen for the first time in this tale of war and woe.

In truth, ‘tis not the only time she made the request of me, having originally approached me during the writing of the previous volume for my recollections of the IS-2 incident, and the Phoenix Fire operation that followed.

I declined then, having no wish to relive those days any more than I do the ones of the war. Though my role in it ‘tis famed, I take no pride or pleasure in it. For all I can remember are the terror and bloodshed and the sacrifice of far too many ponies, the loss of so many under my command as we struggled to hold back the Imperial tide.

Methinks to this day, I still find myself in possession of a siege mentality, always looking at whatever terrain or town I pass with an eye on bottlenecks and barricading approaches, wondering how long our supplies or defenders could hold against an airborne enemy determined to root us out.

I earned my title as the Rock Wall of Equestria by stopping the enemy cold at every turn, particularly when our situation was most dire and retreat was not an option. I’ve even been called “The Savior of Stalliongrad”; the pony who saved all of Equestria by holding the city when its loss meant certain defeat.

Whilst ‘tis true my soldiers and I fought in many important battles in the course of the war, ’twas oft not heroism and skill that let us live another day, but sheer luck and chance. ‘Twould also be a lie to say I always stopped the enemy cold, especially in those early weeks of war, when buying time and inflicting a few casualties whilst avoiding encirclement and annihilation was all we could reasonably hope to accomplish.

The scars of war linger in me, as they do in so many others, and ‘tis not until now that I have decided to contribute. As for why I changed my mind, ‘twas simply reading this account and realizing that I did have things to offer it, and seeing that other authors have apparently found some salve for their war wounds in doing so. Mayhap ‘tis a forlorn hope, but perchance in writing for this account, I may find some measure of long-absent inner peace as well.

As I sign off this introduction, I will list my many combat commands. Not to brag, but so that readers may understand just why I am so weary of war—why I am so wary of describing it, and why I declined promotion to full General and command of the entire Equestrian Army following the conflict’s conclusion.

‘Tis simply that after years of unrelenting warfare; after countless bitter battles, sieges, and endless savagery, I have had enough. Whether my entries into this volume leads to the catharsis I seek remains to be seen, but I will at least grant it the chance to do so.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)

Commandant, Sunset Pointe Equestrian Army Officer Academy
CO, Equestrian Expeditionary Force
CO, 1st Shock Corps “The Solar Spear”
CO, Stalliongrad Corps “The Indomitables”
CO, 1st Corps “The Solar Shield”
CO, 1st Corps/5th Division “Wild Rose Division”
CO, 5th Division/3rd Brigade “Lily Valley Brigade”
CO, 3rd Brigade/2nd regiment “Daisy Regiment”
XO and then CO, Outpost Orange

Advice Unheeded

Equestrian Army Encampment
Regimental HQ
Twelve miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 4th, 1139 AC
1830 hours

So ‘tis time for me to write about the events of the early days of the war, including the gryphon assault on Maresk and siege of Fort Ironheart. For those unaware, the latter was named for both an old Hero of Equestria and—’tis rumored—a pony so noble and mighty he was worthy of being the lover of Princess Celestia herself.

Methinks I will let her speak to that, however. To begin with, let us set the scene. In the prewar planning of facing the gryphon threat—’tis worth noting that regardless of their imperial ambitions, we simply did not think they could muster enough legions over such a long distance to launch more than limited territory grabs, let alone a full-scale invasion—two entire Army divisions were based at Maresk. They formed the nucleus of the 1st Corps, which was responsible for frontier defense.

The divisions were the 5th and 6th, of which I was initially assigned not a brigade, but a regiment in the former. The corps itself consisted of no less than six divisions—half the prewar Equestrian Army—which were never kept at more than half-strength in peacetime, and four of which were assigned to border defense, filling in the areas between Aerial Corps Outposts.

The two divisions at Fort Ironheart were—in theory—there to backstop the border defenses. Their mission was to reinforce any threatened area of the frontier within a day or two, and otherwise provide the third line of defense for the border.

That most raider incursions were over in hours as opposed to days never seemed to register on our planners, but more on that later. Much more, methinks.

In responding to attacks, whether by raiders or the Imperial military, the far more mobile Equestrian Aerial Corps was always the first line of defense, whilst the Equestrian Army was the second. It would provide ground support by garrisoning towns and villages with forces ranging from platoons to entire battalions, depending on town location, size, and the level of Imperial or raider threat. The major border bases from Red to Blue themselves were garrisoned by regiments and brigades, and their larger forces were likewise meant to provide a ready reserve for the towns and villages in their respective area of operations.

Unfortunately, this arrangement proved wholly inadequate and a complete liability when dealing with the Imperials, as it spread us out dangerously thin over the 800-mile long pony/gryphon frontier. As close to the border as our forces were, they allowed airborne and far more mobile Imperial Talons to strike suddenly and destroy our forward divisions in detail when they invaded.

Methinks the results speak for themselves, as even with more limited numbers, they crushed our first two lines of defense on the first day of war.

In truth, such a tactical arrangement ‘twas also utterly useless in dealing with Owl-sponsored raider groups, for as stated before, the typical raid was over and done long before Army forces could react.

‘Tis certain I learned this the hard way personally at the IS-2 massacre, when we received word of the attack whilst out on exercise. We were already halfway to the settlement, but we were still too far away to assist, able only to behold the horrifying sight of slaughtered villagers afterwards and tend to the innumerable dead.

Thus, Army engagement with raiders was typically limited to town and village garrisons. And as raider groups inevitably avoided the larger towns and cities in favor of smaller ones they could easily knock over with a quick hit-and-fly attack, we were all too often at a disadvantage in fighting them, able only to barricade ourselves in our bases and hold out until Corps reinforcements reached us.

‘Twas not that these shortcomings were unknown. They were in fact repeatedly pointed out by myself and others in the leadup to the war, only to be just as repeatedly brushed off by Army Command in Canterlot.

‘Tis little remembered now that I was in fact unliked and out of favor at war’s outbreak, for pushing too hard and too loudly to have the border defenses completely reworked.

Methinks my gravest sin was not, in fact, advocating that the most indefensibly forward frontier towns and farms be disbanded, and their colonists relocated further back. But rather, pushing for cooperation between our very insular services to allow for a far more mobile border defense—one focused on maximizing our numbers at the point of contact rather than scattering them piecemeal across a long frontier.

I wanted Corps and Army forces set further back from the border practicing raid responses together. Worse, I even suggested Royal Navy rearmament and an increase in their transport capability. The former’s airships could be on station within hours and bring massive firepower to bear in a fight, whilst the latter would enable Army forces to redeploy quickly aboard Naval vessels, giving us the ability to concentrate on a threatened area and counterattack swiftly.

But as the Navy was looked down upon, such opinions were anathema. Not only for giving favor to a rival service, but because the Army Generals were trying to convince the Princess to let them procure their own transports, not wanting to be dependent on the Navy for them any longer.

‘Twas thus that, even nearly twelve years after my ascension to the rank of regiment commander—a post I earned when our former CO was slain on the streets of the Lucavi Capital of Altair in the Phoenix Fire Operation—my Army career had advanced no further. Even as late as six months prior to the war’s outbreak, I still remained the same Lieutenant Colonel I had been made in the operation’s aftermath.

Perchance if our warnings had been heeded; if we had defended the border properly in depth instead of forward-staging all our forces where they could be overwhelmed by a sudden invasion—pinned in place, enveloped and annihilated with no chance to maneuver or flee—the early days of the war might have been far different, even with the near-total surprise we suffered.

But they were not, and ‘twould be a lie to say that I am not bitter about such needless and only too predictable defeats to this day.

‘Tis not a slur against the Army and Aerial Corps forces stationed on the border, who, by gryphon reports, fought bravely and desperately against impossible odds. ‘Tis simply that they were left in an unsupportable and ultimately untenable position from which there was no escape. The initial survival of Outpost Gamma and the Naval rescue of Epsilon were the sole exceptions to that rule, and are examples of what could have been accomplished with full prewar cooperation between the services, and a capable Naval reserve force that could react to an attack.

Readers must understand that the loss of our four forward border Army divisions on the first day of the war took out a third of the Equestrian Army’s peacetime combat power. Like the Aerial Corps that far too many of my fellow officers disdained, our forces were only kept at half-strength outside of wartime. 'Twas certainly folly given wars how oft come without warning, but 'twas even more so that the Army required a full fortnight to bring the border forces up to full-strength 5,000-strong divisions. In fact, a general mobilization of the Army took a matter of months, as we had to conscript and call up reserves to fill the ranks.

Needless to say, ‘twas time we did not have as the renewed gryphon offensive was launched after consolidating their gains and reorganizing their forces, following their crushing of the border defenses on the first day of war. It quickly became clear from fragmentary intelligence and the occasional Corps recon flight that the city and its large Army base were a major objective of the second Imperial offensive, with two Talon ground columns converging on the city from the north and east.

Thus, we knew they were coming, and we had prepared to meet them as best we could with the city’s 10,000 available Army and militia troops, knowing well that four times those numbers of gryphons could be closing on us.

Along the rest of the makeshift third line of defense, which primarily consisted of hastily mobilized Army regiments to hold various towns and crossroads, the news was mixed. The Towns of Bridle to the east and Starlight to the north had quickly fallen, though that was expected, as their garrisons had been withdrawn except for a screening force into Maresk and Ironheart. The large settlements of Celestial City and Moonglow to the northwest had not yet been struck, whilst further south, Sunset Pointe had been enveloped but had prepared for a long siege and could tie up considerable griffon forces for some time.

Even further south, the news was actually good—we were heartened to hear that despite being badly outnumbered, fresh Equestrian Army regiments were jamming the narrow mountain passes through the northern Appleachians with some success, meaning our flank could not easily be turned from that direction.

Which ‘twas not to say we faced no danger of envelopment for as exposed as we were, and to their credit, the Generals in Canterlot realized that. Though I knew this not at the time, we had been given orders to abandon Maresk and commence a fighting withdrawal towards the town of Melody and eventually Detrot, along the major roadway that led there.

The road, called the “Harness Highway’' for the long supply trains of harnessed wagons that were often used to deliver goods to the city and the further border towns, was also a major supply artery into the interior of Equestria.

One the gryphons would have to seize for use by their own supply columns and siege engines.

Our instructions, direct from the Princess herself, were not to hold the city. They were to evacuate entirely and conduct a staged retreat toward Detrot, which was considered the gateway to the Equestrian interior and a major milestone on the road to Canterlot, preserving our two divisions for future use whilst inflicting as many casualties on the gryphons as possible.

Unfortunately, such orders were unpopular, given many of our soldiers had homes and herds in Maresk, and ‘tis not slander to say that most commanders were simply not up to the task of carrying out such a difficult assignment when we had never practiced for such a thing, nor imagined it could ever be necessary.

Particularly not without sufficient Aerial Corps support, which we were loath to admit we needed but was unavailable anyway. ‘Twas due to the near-total loss of the border-assigned Corps 5th Division whilst the Corps own border backstop—Outposts Mu and Nu—were also unavailable for aid, having already dispatched their six hundred soldiers to the defense of Cloudsdale. Their two battalions were now out of contact, feared lost along with the city, which seemed certain to have been struck to destroy its weather factory.

More pegasus soldiers were being drawn from the remaining four Corps divisions, which were hastily shifting from other areas of Equestria, but ‘twas a long way for them to fly. Their redeployments had to be done in stages as they could not generally move more than 150 miles before requiring rest, unlike the 1000-mile range of well-conditioned sky gryphon Wind Knights. And what few Corps platoons were available simply could not loiter long due to overwhelming gryphon numbers before having to flee, lest they were overwhelmed in the air or forced to ground where they were far more vulnerable.

The best they could do for us was reconnaissance or to launch a raider-like hit-and-fly attack, hoping to take out a quick score of Imperial soldiers before the sky gryphon Talons turned on them and drove them off. Or worse, enveloped them with superior numbers and wiped them out.

Thus, ‘tis certain the Maresk Army forces were, for most intents and purposes, on our own as we attempted to avoid a similar fate on a much larger scale. Fort Ironheart had been struck on the first day of the war by Wind Knights and mind-controlled civilian assassins; the former succeeding in destroying most of its Naval transport allotment in a lightning raid, whilst the latter slew several unwary officers, including the Corps Commander, Lieutenant General Rockadile, throwing us into disorder and preventing a quick mobilization of the Fort’s forces.

Methinks I was too low-ranked to bother with killing, but the losses higher up the chain did put me back into combat command for the first time in ten years. ‘Thus, by the time of the second gryphon offensive, I had become one of three regimental commanders assigned to the brigade overseeing the rear of the Maresk sector.

I’m told the first indication we had of the invasion were mysterious messages from Outpost Epsilon warning war was imminent. Unfortunately, they were initially dismissed as either a gryphon trick or a very bad joke. Until, that was, a war alert message was received from Outpost Gamma at dawn, just as the initial wave of assassinations hit Maresk and the frontier forces reported they were under attack. ‘Twas then the first gryphon legions rolled over the border, descending upon and crushing Army Bases Green and Yellow efficiently and completely without mercy.

Such was the eventual fate of all the Army outposts, as well as Fort Ironheart and Maresk itself. In the end, my regiment would be one of the few to escape the trap. My life was paid for by the blood of many good soldiers and for that, I write of these events not as a hero, but as a lucky minnow in a school of fish who only narrowly avoided the jaws of death. ‘Twould be the first of many close calls as we were forced to retreat again and again, holding out for the day we could turn and strike back.

Methinks myself and the Equestrian Army learned many lessons, all of them the hard way, during the course of the war. But such lessons paid for in blood and territory were necessary. None of us could have then foreseen during what seemed like endless defeats how profound an effect our tactical retreats and hard-won lessons conducting them would have on the course of the war. But change that course they did, and we eventually did get our chance to push the gryphons back, only to find them even more cunning and dangerous on the backpedal.

But ‘tis certain that story lies far in the future. So let me relate the one at hoof now.

Civilization V: Field of Poppies

My apologies for the long leadup. I fear that all this detail may make for rather dry reading, but ‘tis necessary to fully explain our situation and what we then faced.

In truth, I am using it to refresh my memory and order my thoughts for recounting the battles ahead, as time—or mayhap a deep-seated desire to not recall them—has dulled my recollections of these early days of war. I hope readers will forgive me as I reminisce, and hope they will also indulge me one final time as I detail some of my own prior combat action.

After nearly sixteen years in the military and two spent studying at Sunset Pointe—whose tactical training I considered more indoctrination than education for how wrong-headed I found it even at the time—I was no neophyte in the realm of fighting, having been bloodied in actions against raider groups whilst assigned to various towns and villages.

Without going too deeply into it, I will simply say that I quickly learned that set-piece battle tactics were almost completely useless against an irregular airborne enemy. There was simply no easy way to anticipate or outmaneuver a foe whose objectives were not to take and hold territory, but to raid weakly-defended towns and farms for resources before melting back away into the border desert, whether those resources were gems or grain or hostages they could then ransom back.

Unfortunately, the invasion would quickly prove that our pre-war defensive doctrine was worth even less against the Imperial military, who possessed mobility and tactical agility far in excess of our own.

Though I’d certainly seen my share of fighting before that, my true development as a combat commander began in earnest during Phoenix Fire. Methinks my short account summed up the whole terrible ordeal for me and the ponies of 3rd division’s 2nd regiment. Only 60% of the Equestrian Army units that entered Altair exited alive and uninjured as the Lucavi—and the city’s populace—resisted our invasion savagely.

And in fairness, ‘twas not without good reason, given the outright atrocities committed by pony forces under Corps Lieutenant Thunderbolt’s command in Rial.

I was but the executive officer of a single regiment entering the battle, though I would shortly ascend to CO. ‘Tis certain my first outing as a regimental commander degenerated into, if not a complete disaster, a chaotic and disorganized mess as Altair’s well-equipped and desperate defenders ambushed and opened fire on us from every direction, using the streets and tunnels of the gryphon provincial capital as a maze to lure us into traps down every alley and street corner.

Worse, they unfortunately knew to concentrate their crossbow fire on officers, as their tactics claimed my regimental commander, Colonel Plowshares, and left me to try to command an urban night fight against an entrenched and implacable foe.

Methinks there are always excuses when things go badly during a fight: we’re a green outfit, we’re unprepared for urban night combat; mistakes higher up the chain placed us in a hot zone without proper support, we had poor intelligence, the Corps attacking early cost us surprise, etc.

But in the end, ‘tis all they are—excuses. Ultimately, such things are inevitable in warfare, and one of the first lessons I had to learn was that you do not get to pick and choose the situation you find yourself in.

That you have to go into battle with what you have and accept the hoof you are dealt, to use the cardplaying term.

‘Twas a very eye-opening experience to me as to the Equestrian Army’s shortcomings, from our overemphasis on mass to a lack of mobility, as I believe Corps Captain Fairweather herself pointed out in her missives during the operation.

Yes, we could move quickly when we had proper planning and lead time, as we did at the start of Phoenix Fire, advancing thirty miles in a day. But we proved unable to adapt to quickly changing battlefield conditions, to our great cost. Our smaller units—squads and platoons—generally performed well, but we were simply too rigid and lacked the operational agility we needed. Methinks we required not just more transport capability, but an entire change in emphasis from mass to mobility and maneuver.

But when I pointed all this out after the operation, detailing in exact terms to 1st Corps Command what was needed to correct it, including completely scrapping our static defensive doctrine and more closely integrating our operations with the Aerial Corps and Navy? I was ostracized and relegated to administrative jobs in rear-line units. But I persisted, making myself a pariah with Army Command in Canterlot as I warned repeatedly that the Gryphon military was far better at offensive operations than we.

Lest those reading think I was predicting the war to come, I was not. Methinks that I, too, believed the gryphons could not launch a full-scale invasion so far from their homeland; ‘twas simply my worry that our obvious weaknesses might invite some form of limited land grab and border war.

But in the end, it mattered not. ‘Twas a critique that questioned the very foundations of Army doctrine, and thus was treated as utter heresy. As a result, in the nearly twelve years between the end of the Phoenix Fire operation and the first day of the war, I was overlooked time and time again for promotion, only having achieved full Colonel six months before the real fight began.

And even then, methinks ‘twas only a begrudging attempt to get me to retire, as full Colonel meant a full pension.

The only post they kept me in was supply officer, which I will at least say did let me master the art of logistics—an art I would sorely need in the months and years ahead. That I now had command of one of the 5th Division’s rear regiments was, again, only due to the officer assassinations at the brigade and division levels on the first day, with the regiment’s commander and second having to move up to brigade command to take the place of those slain.

Ordered to guard the road west for the civilian evacuation of Maresk, I was held in reserve of the still-mobilizing Fifth Division in the rear of the city under the overall command of newly elevated Corps Commander Major General Breech Lock. She was best described as an overzealous yet meticulous old mare who would not have her judgment questioned, and who saw her ascension to command of the old fortress as her single overarching destiny in life.

Formerly commander of the 5th Division before the assassination of Lieutenant General Rockadile, methinks everything within her area of command—which was basically everything inside the road triangle formed between Melody, Starlight, and Bridle—was her kingdom, and woe upon the poor soldier soul who didn’t follow her decrees to the letter.

Unfortunately, one of those decrees was to hold Maresk and Fort Ironheart at all hazards. Instead of readying a retreat, she deployed the main strength of the 1st Corps into strong defenses along the two main avenues of approach, declaring bombastically that the gryphon wave would break upon—and then be broken on—its Equestrian Army-held lines.

She further boasted that we would win this war ourselves, and that our retreating civilians would be able to return in a matter of weeks, detailing two brigades to hold the rear sectors and keep the lines of communication open.

Only aware of her instructions as I was, ‘tis certain I knew not that she was disobeying orders from Our Princess herself at that point, only that such orders seemed very foalhardy given the Imperial speed of advance and their demonstrated ability to rapidly envelop border formations. What if they were doing it here?

To little surprise, my warnings to Division that failure to retreat at once could get us all pocketed by gryphon pincers went unheeded; the only response I got was a tersely worded warning from the Major General herself to obey orders or be relieved and demoted to Private, assigned to guard civilian convoys as a simple soldier.

And when I persisted, she’d arrived on a rear area inspection the day before to tell me to my face that I had a “reputation for sloppy work” from what happened all those years ago, and that she was “keeping an eye on me,” taking pains to dress me down in front of the entire regiment.

‘Twas not as if I heard such dismissive sentiments from only her, either. The officers and enlisted I worked with simply did not understand the peril we were in. My orders to dig in and patrol the perimeter were met with cries of “but we’re two hundred miles from the border!” and “the gryphons will never make it this far!” as my warnings to my own troops too often fell upon deaf ears.

In fairness, ‘twas not entirely their fault. My battalion commanders were also green; in retrospect, the only reason they even got their assignments was due to their predecessors being dismissed for minor infractions. These included such affronts as subordinates interrupting the paper flow to headquarters by leaving early at the commo shack, or cutting corners on patrol so they could get back to camp early.

The latter was either to gamble their bits away on a card game, or scout for booze and some friendly mare or stallion company amongst the civilians in town.

Knowing that discipline had been lax so far from the frontier amongst our rear guard units, I’d done my best to instill some and drill our forces hard during the past few days, so as not to meet the same fate as our border bases. But I knew full well that our time was limited, and to whip them into shape properly would take weeks.

All of the above factors found me and my regiment twelve miles to the rear of Fort Ironheart on the main road to Melody which then turned south towards Detrot, in a camp amidst a field of poppies—not daisies, as many believe.

And before anypony asks, ‘twas not that field of flowers that would later earn my original unit the nickname of the Daisy Regiment, but for another—and far darker—reason I will detail later.

In fairness, our defenses seemed well-set, both around Maresk and along our planned path of retreat. Army companies were digging in on the outlying towns to assist and guard the civilian evacuations, and the crossroads of Harness Highway with the rougher paths that skirted the northern shores of the dry seabeds—known informally as Prairie and Eerie Roads—was commanded by Harness Hill, which was held by an Earth Pony militia company.

‘Twas certain I did not think much of militia abilities, but sitting as they were at the center of several rings of defenders, their mere presence there would be enough, I thought.

In truth, we were enjoying our first cool evening heralding the changing of the seasons—an odd event given that pegasi were no longer exercising weather control over greater Equestria, by order of Celestia herself—and the climate was such that the war seemed impossibly far away at that moment.

In fact, methinks my earth pony soldiers were the happiest I’d seen them in months, believing that once we broke the Imperial invasion against the earth and ironworks of the Fort and City, they would then be released to attend the coming harvest around Maresk, instead of digging trenches whilst looking out for enemies who they had convinced themselves would never come.

‘Twas no question ‘twas terribly wishful thinking, and despite my own unanswerable prayers that we would yet be spared battle, methinks I sensed even then that it would take an actual appearance by the gryphons to teach them otherwise. The sky on that fourth day of war, which had progressively grown darker as we neared evening and I filled out the piles of paperwork, was filled with stars by the time I completed the endless reams of reports the Major General demanded. Breech Lock, unfortunately, was the kind of commander who wanted to know and control everything.

She never understood that such was impossible in wartime, both due to the general chaos of warfare and the fact that the enemy always gets a strong say in such matters.

Despite that, and despite the reports of two columns of gryphons advancing on the city, the area in front of Maresk and Fort Ironheart that day had been very quiet. Battle warnings had been given to the frontline forces filling the barricades in front of the Fort, with four entire brigades straddling the two main roads into the city ready to hold firm against any ground or air attack. But surprisingly, no gryphons had been sighted, either on the ground or in the air.

I admit I was given some pause by this, wondering if the reports were wrong and we were simply not the target of their latest operation. But why would we not be, given Maresk commanded the main trade highway west and south between the dry seabeds towards Melody, and then Detrot? ‘Twas the most direct route to Canterlot, after all, and a major supply route they would have to seize were they to advance that way.

I knew not the answer then, but ‘tis certain I was genuinely wondering by evening whether all my fears were in fact misplaced. Working the crick out of my neck, I decided to check in with the communications shed one last time for any new orders or war news, and then patrol the perimeter before ordering some dinner. Thus, I exited my improvised tent office, told my personal sentries to fall in behind me, and set out into the night.

As dusk fell and a blood-red moon rose, I saw tents all lined up in neat rows spread out before me like a vast city. Between them, roaring campfires crackled cheerfully, surrounded by chatting soldiers, resting after a day in the field. Tin plates covered with the remnants of that evening’s dinner—fresh peaches were being served in various culinary guises, as they were the very first item to be harvested when summer made the turn towards fall—set before the group nearest me who rose and saluted me with canteens in hoof.

“Good evening, sir!” The senior earth pony NCO greeted me on behalf of the others as the red war moon cast an auspicious ruddy glow over everything. It had been eerie and ominous at first, but after four days of it, methinks we were getting used to it. “Any news from the front?”

I saluted back crisply—respect offered should always be returned, after all. I admit I considered lying to them to keep them alert, but decided against it—if they learned I had, they’d be far less willing to listen to my admonitions or orders.

“Nothing to report since the last briefing, Spear Sergeant. ‘Twould seem the gryphons have still not reached Maresk or breached the Applelachians. If they do, you’ll know quickly. We will continue our current patrol patterns for now. Good night, comrades!” I favored them with a nod.

“Goodnight, sir!” they called back. As usual, they’d forgotten to address me by rank, but I cared not at the time. I walked away shaking my head at the thought. Even with all my drills and attempts to instill discipline, methinks I’d always been too easy on those younger soldiers.

I’d made it but halfway to the comm shack before a new pony came running up, her ill-fitting armor rattling loosely against her barrel. “Colonel, sir!” A bespectacled unicorn mare came to attention and saluted, looking flushed in the cheeks and slightly out of breath. “Methinks we’ve got serious trouble!”

‘Twas our junior communications pony, Corporal Far Cry. “At ease, Far Cry. What’s the matter?” I asked, noting favorably that she’d at least addressed me by my rank.

I had stiffened initially at her appearance, thinking she was about to report an attack, but then relaxed again as I spared a look around and considered the situation. I noted quickly she hadn’t seen fit to sound the alarm in regards to whatever trouble she was reporting, and the birds and crickets hadn’t missed a beat since I’d left my office—one thing I’d learned from battles with gryphon raiders was that birds, particularly crows, grew silent before an attack—so whatever news she was here to convey, ‘twas not about an imminent gryphon assault.

“Colonel, methinks our crystal communications network is being jammed! Fort Ironheart missed their check-in ten minutes ago and I haven’t received any messages on the dragonfire gems in almost an hour!”

Enemy Intentions

My lessening anxiety level suddenly spiked high again, as I considered the potentially dire danger of what such large-scale jamming would mean for our entire sector. ‘Twas certain the gryphon raider groups had used such jamming to conduct raids on border bases and towns in the past, though their means to do so was almost certainly supplied by the Office of Owls. ‘Twas certain the Imperial military would be even better equipped for it, but we couldn’t know if ‘twas everypony or just us affected.

So much for a restful night! I thought, trying to work up some humor to still my sudden sense of danger. In any case, ‘twas certain Breech Lock would need to hear about this. I could only hope she understood all it could mean, or if she didn’t, that one of her mare or stallion staff officers would grow a pair of apples and spell it out to her.

“Understood, Corporal. I’ll send out messengers to Fort Ironheart to let them know our communications are down. In the meantime, methinks we shouldn’t assume anything. Stay with the communications crystals and be ready to sound an immediate alarm if somepony sends out a distress or attack signal.”

“Sir, yes sir!” The mare saluted and returned to the shack. My dinner put on hold, I hastened back to the office, drawing odd looks from my staff as I sat back down behind my desk. Ignoring their queries, I took out my blue command gem and inserted it onto a stand so it would broadcast to all the crystal speakers. I just hoped they weren’t jammed too!

“Attention all soldiers.” I was somewhat relieved to hear my voice coming through loud and clear.“This is Colonel Rock Biter. We are now at Threat Level Yellow! Enemy forces suspected in the area. Take battle positions and report to your commanders for further instructions. Captain Starstruck and Captain Ice Break, report to regimental headquarters immediately! That is all.”I summoned the two battalion commanders belonging to the units furthest east and west along the road from Maresk.

With that simple declaration, I waited in my office mulling over the situation. I felt alone inside a bubble within a bubble cut off from the world, though at least everyone inside the base now knew something was amiss. Methinks it gave me some comfort to know that whatever was wrong, we were at least alert to it and would hopefully be ready to meet it.

As the silence of the room began to settle in after I made my announcement, I began to feel dread creeping in anew at the thought of falling into the enemy’s plan by staying put. Somewhere in the back of my head, I sensed a trap being sprung, but I knew not its nature yet or what I should do. In my mind, I knew ‘twas right of me to assess the situation before acting, but ‘twas also certain that waiting to do something whilst our enemy was perchance already on the move struck me as dangerous.

Or perchance even disastrous.

‘Tis perchance the greatest lesson I can teach after far too much practice that war should be fought proactively, and not reactively, but in this instance, methinks I lacked the information to do so. ‘Tis certain not knowing what’s coming ‘tis not a good feeling at all, and thus, my priority was attempting to find out before deciding what to do.

My suddenly brooding thoughts were interrupted by the distinctive pop of Captain Starstruck’s teleportation spell outside my door. “Come.”

A pair of Captains, one an earth pony stallion officer with his armor only hastily pulled on accompanied a longbow-armed unicorn mare, who’d demonstrated mastery of the somewhat tricky teleportation spell. She was attired in standard cloak and chainmail armor, though she bore not one but two bows and arrow quivers on her back.

One was her standard-issue Army longbow, but the second was a much more ornate one that accompanied her dress uniform. She’d told me earlier that she’d abandoned her home in Bridle immediately upon word of the gryphon invasion, ushering her foals and stallion to safety at Maresk, stopping only long enough to grab her armor and all her weapons before doing so.

The ornate one was her own personal bow, which I’d seen once at that year’s Summer Sun Celebration at Fort Ironheart. She had shown it to me then, boasting she’d made it herself. She further said ‘twas much more powerful than standard longbows, capable of piercing almost any armor or magical shield it encountered, at the cost of requiring a much stronger aura to wield and draining its user quickly given its much greater tension and higher-level enchantments.

“Reporting as ordered, sir. What’s the situation?” Captain Ice Break asked, saluting along with Starstruck.

I returned the honor crisply. “Please soundproof the room first, Starstruck, if you wouldst.” I inclined my head towards the door.

The unicorn looked taken aback but acceded to my request with a flair of her horn, casting a quick spell over the tent. “Methinks I don’t like the sound of this, sir!”

I raised a reassuring hoof, knowing that if I came off as afraid at this new situation, ‘twas likely that fear would swiftly sweep through the ranks in turn. “Just a precaution, Starstruck. ‘Twould seem our base’s crystal communication is being disrupted by an unknown and presumably feathery force of hostiles, and you wouldst understand that I don’t wish to be overheard.”

After a quick glance exchanged with Starstruck, Captain Ice Break nodded to me, his face carefully composed despite his obvious anxiety. “Orders, sir?”

I considered my words and instructions carefully. “Methinks we are an oasis of calm amidst a sea of doubt. Methinks we need to expand our little sanctuary in order to make sense of our situation. I want you both to send out runners, east and west. Have your messengers talk to the militia in the neighboring towns and order them to signal with green flares if griffons are sighted; red flares if engaged,” I told them as I hurriedly wrote down my instructions, and then passed them off to a unicorn staff member to make copies.

“Tell them to go to full alert and secure the roads leading in and out of Camp Poppy, and to get as much information as you can from the locals and any ponies retreating through the area. And Starstruck, I also want you to dispatch unicorn couriers to Fort Ironheart to report our communications are out, and then report back on the Fort’s situation. If we’re lucky this will all prove to be a wild harpy chase when our scouts establish contact,” I said idly, even though I didn’t hold out much hope.

Speaking of the Harpies, ‘tis worth noting that during my early Army career, I’d been stationed in the southwest deserts near the city of Verdant a couple of times, near the foot of the Harpy Mountains. The avian pirates that dwelled there presented an equally lethal threat as the gryphons, though their tactics tended to be much different. ‘Tis not important here, but among other things, they’d had a habit of leading us around by the nose when we or the Corps gave chase to their small but swift gunboats, often into an ambush.

“Yes, sir,” Starstruck replied, accepting a set of freshly copied notes. “If I may, sir, ‘twouldst seem like a bit of an overreaction, given there’s been no sign or so much of a single feather seen of nearby gryphons or battle. If the Fort or City were under attack, ‘tis certain we would be able to hear the sounds and see the fires, even at this distance.”

I considered that. On the one hoof, she was correct. But on the other? “Mayhap you are right that there has been no attack. But ‘tis quite possible a communication blackout may be a prelude to one,” I reminded them as I leaned forward over my desk, pressing my hooves against its surface as I fixed the pair with a stern gaze. “As such, instruct your couriers to not take chances in the dark. They will teleport and pass from place to place as if they’re in hostile territory, and fire blue flares if attacked or they discover evidence of one. Dismissed.”

The pair departed with a salute, leaving me with my thoughts. Having had enough of brooding in my office, I went out to go speak with the troops now pulling on their armor and milling about in concern. I took ten minutes to order fires extinguished and personally inform the third battalion commander to get troops into trenches with unicorn archers at the ready.

I had just about completed my pass when a trumpet sounded, signaling a returning party through the rear gate; a non-hostile unfamiliar host of ponies specifically. I also heard the call for unicorn healers go out, and a request for the commander’s presence buzzed over my red gem.

I acknowledged and headed for the rear gate. Finally some answers! I thought, as I galloped forward to meet them, arriving in under a minute.

Unfortunately, those answers were not happy ones. Indeed, what I found shocked me. Our arrivals were a party of about twenty ponies, mostly mares with some foals, only five of which were still standing. The others were horribly injured and loaded into carts for what looked like a very hasty getaway. I looked inside the cart to see a mare missing one of her forelegs, the floor of the cart was coated with blood as she clutched her crying foal with her good arm.

Despite her state, she looked up at me with her cheeks pale; the light in her eyes nearly gone. She was clearly going into shock along with others nursing hastily and oft-poorly bandaged blade wounds; some even had gryphon-made crossbow bolts sticking out of their sides.

‘Twas not as if I’d never seen such gruesome sights before, and on far larger scales. Still, I had to choke back the bile when I saw the state of the others, some of whom had already perished. “What happened here? Where were you attacked?” I asked the two mares pulling the cart, who had minor wounds of their own but had persevered for the sake of their friends.

“Please… help us, soldiers!” the younger one begged us through tears. “Our town was attacked by gryphons and we barely escaped with our lives!”

“Attacked?” I repeated in confusion as the unicorn medics teleported in with an assortment of supplies, feeling my guts clench anew despite my long combat experience at the gruesome sight. “But why come here? You were supposed to be heading away from the gryphons! Why are you coming east instead of heading west along the path of retreat?”

“Because we can’t!”she clutched at me with her hooves in fear and desperation, tears streaming down her blood-streaked face. “The gryphons have already arrived! The route west is blocked! They’ve taken Harness Hill, and they’re slaying all who try to pass it!”

Methinks I will pause the story there for now. I apologize once again for all the information I felt I had to convey to readers up front, but ‘tis important that all who read this understand our predicament in front of Maresk, and all that led to it before beginning the tale of the Equestrian Army’s campaign proper.

Much sacrifice and hardship was ahead, as well as far too many defeats. Whether Equestria would survive or not would depend on how quickly the armed forces in general, and the Equestrian Army in particular, learned our lessons and internalized them in enough time for it to matter.

‘Twas no different with me, as I, too, would have to learn some hard lessons about the nature of retreat and defense before all was said and done. And yet, ‘tis hardly all I did despite my reputation as a defensive genius.

‘Tis ironic, methinks, that the first action of my wartime service began not with one of the stalwart stands I was so famous for, but with a desperate attack to clear the retreat route west.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
Farmer and father
Amber Apple Orchards
Outskirts of Stalliongrad

If I may say, General, we in the Royal Navy were unaware you were advocating our replenishment and a much greater role in Equestria’s defense. Perchance your career was quashed to ensure that word would not get out, for the Army might then lose prestige and primacy to a rebuilt Navy.

What foals we all were; so blindly loyal to our own service branches and so in love with their own history and traditions that we failed to see that we were part of a greater whole. That no one service was sufficient; that Equestria could not properly defend itself without the four branches working together as those of our enemies already did. Combined arms warfare was an art the gryphons had already mastered, but we had to learn the hard and bloody lessons of how to practice it on the fly.

‘Tis Admiral Tailwind writing now. My frustratingly slow recovery continues, and ‘tis all I will say about it other than that I am finally out of the hospital but physical therapy goes on. After a full month of it, which consists of many hours of physical and magical stimulation, I have gained perchance three inches of wing mobility—still nowhere near enough to attempt flight, and ‘tis uncertain whether the stubbornly stiff muscles at the wing’s base will ever loosen enough to do so.

But I will not dwell on that for now, and as my daughter Wind Whistler constantly reminds me, the progress is there, just painfully slow and only evident over the course of several weeks. Regardless, I speak for the first time in many chapters to write a rare ending to an entry in the absence of my daughter, My Princess and Fell Flight.

You know where Firefly is, but My Princess is unavailable for now as she continues to entertain Queen Lepidoptes IV. ‘Twould seem the Changeling Queen has extended her stay in Equestria by an entire week to the apparent consternation of her advisors, in order to be granted a tour of greater Equestria.

Though ‘tis certain our respective rulers have found themselves to have much in common and certainly seem to enjoy each other’s company, one cannot help but wonder if ‘tis less for the tour than so Celestia can better learn and compete with the Queen in the chess-like Changeling board game of Chameleon.

I witnessed one of the games played during a private party limited to trusted advisors and guests, and can report it involves a multilevel board where even minor pieces can change form suddenly into different races and ranks, acquiring their abilities instantly—but only for a set number of turns before they lose form and are vulnerable. Or are attacked only to be revealed as a much more powerful piece, to the attacker’s chagrin.

From what little I saw of it, ‘tis a game of deception and disguised intentions that requires a strong strategic mind to master. ‘Twould seem Celestia likes it, for after being taught it, she has been playing it with our honored guest frequently even if she can still not defeat her in it. Even Prince Blueblood has taken an interest in it, as he has challenged the Queen’s security chief to both a game and a blade duel in the castle garden. Methinks ‘twill be an interesting pair of matches, given both possess keen intellects and are masters of their respective crafts.

As for Fell Flight, she is unavailable again, meeting with Corps Command regarding the logistics of reactivating Omega and rebuilding its facilities in the manner the Society of Omega Survivors wishes.

And as for myself, I would apologize for not being heard from much in the past few chapters. ‘Twas not that I did not wish to—believe me when I say I enjoy all the distractions I can get from my slow rehabilitation, especially writing for this account! But ‘twas simply because the spotlight belonged on others, including and most especially my grandson during events in Cloudsdale.

I can at least say now I did witness his duel with Thunderbolt, appalled and aghast though I was to learn of Captain Typhoon’s plan. I was told of it as I was summoned to the top deck of the Loyalty to witness the duel when there was no chance for me to object to it, able only to wonder why my obviously unhappy daughter had allowed it and pray for my grandson’s safety against a foe of such awful ability.

But he not only survived, he triumphed, even if I knew not how, counting down the minutes until I was off-duty and could go to see him. As events would have it, I was unable to, given I was asked by Captain Typhoon to accompany him as the Royal Navy’s representative to Hollow Shades.

But that is a story for later. I now use the final words of this entry to report that I have learned from Ambassador Kaval that, following the story of his defeat of Thunderbolt, a very special honor is planned for Gavian upon his presentation to Queen Jeyenne in the Gryphon capital city of Arnau.

I cannot say more for now, as both my grandson and his mother remain unaware of it. Suffice it to say, ‘tis likely to be extremely controversial, but ‘twill also be well-earned.

—Admiral Tailwind
Commanding Admiral, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Polaris
Canterlot

A true leader has the confidence to stand alone, the courage to make tough decisions, and the compassion to listen to the needs of others. He does not set out to be a leader, but becomes one by the equality of his actions and the integrity of his intent.

—General Douglas MacArthur

Author's Note

Welcome back to Firefly! Sorry for the info dump chapter, folks, but there was a LOT of information that had to be conveyed, given that we were shifting perspectives to the Equestrian Army for the first time.

This was unquestionably a hard chapter to write as well. The reason of the repeated delays was multiple editing pass and the fact that this really needed some good graphics to illustrate the info dump, which took me around 40 hours total to create and left me pounding my fists in frustration more than once trying to figure out how to make the newest version of Photoshop do what I wanted.

Thanks go as always to AJ_Aficionado and Silentwoodfire for prereads, the former for his many comments on the google doc and for giving me a starting point in the form of a few pages he'd previously written on Rock Biter I could then build on. Rock Biter is AJA's character, for the record, so once again I'm using someone else's OC.

PS: For those unaware, I've received permission from the mods to write a continuation of Demon Eyes Laharl's Feathered Heart, given DEL appears to be gone for good and has not responded to pings. If you haven't read it, do so--it's a modern day Gryphon/US Marines crossover military thriller set in the Gentlemanverse with Gilda as the protagonist; it has no right to work but very much does. In fact, that story's griffon lore was used for this one, and it references the conflict that Firefly describes.

TFeathered Heart

MLP: FiM

Romance

Adventure

The exploration of the Gryphon Kingdom and the love between a human and a griffin. While securing trade routes, Gilda reminisces how the humans arrive, the trials they face together, and the one who stole her heart. Set in the Gentlemanverse.

Sex

Human

Gilda

OC

Demon Eyes Laharl · 139k words  ·  1,622  51 · 21k views

Second Offensive: 4 - Road to Redemption

Greetings to all readers for the first real time in this volume.

‘Tis Blindside speaking now, former First Sergeant and founding member of the Bolt Knights, but now just a simple mother, herdmate and tea shop owner, following in my own beloved mother’s wingbeats for the latter. To my great surprise, I find myself with an increasing desire to join my comrades and Captain in penning my own passages in this latest work, which I have not contributed to yet beyond a few brief asides.

As for why I have not contributed, ‘tis in fact quite simple: I care not for fame and fortune and never have. So why do I choose to contribute now? Mayhap ‘tis but a simple desire to assist my beloved herdmate in the telling of this tale that motivates me, realizing over time that there are indeed things I can offer it. And by extension, her.

Speaking of that beloved herdmate, Firefly has not yet returned from the first leg of her journey, nor will she for another week. In the meantime, ‘tis up to me and Stormrunner to represent our herd at the departure of Queen Lepidoptes IV. ‘Tis certain she arrived to no little trepidation but leaves to great acclaim; to see her now in the final formal affair before her visit ends, methinks she appears all but radiant, basking in the enormous appreciation shown her.

Perchance ‘tis not surprising how hale and happy she looks. ‘Tis well known her race feeds on love, and ‘twould seem Our Princess has offered it aplenty.

She departs with an invitation for Celestia to one day return the favor by visiting her hive, though ‘tis difficult to see how that can be accomplished in secrecy. But ‘tis not for me to decide, and ‘tis a far different tale I wish to relate now.

—First Sergeant Blindside (ret.)
Proprietor, Dandelion Tea and Coffee Shop
Canterlot

Before I begin, ‘tis worth noting that ‘twas the original intention for me to pen the entry regarding Gavian’s duel with Thunderbolt. But the unexpected account of our anonymous Raven observer took precedence, as well it should.

As for Gavian’s duel, there is little I can add that was not already stated, save for perchance one minor detail that nopony—or nogryphon—else has mentioned. Gavian was facing towards the ship and away from the main body of the crowd when his final strike felled Thunderbolt. So our unknown gryphon witness could not see his eyes, but standing with Firefly and the others, I could.

What has stuck with me all this time from that ultimate exchange was not Gavian’s flawless and unbelievably fast sword draw, or even his felling of my mentor with it. ‘Twas that just before it happened, I saw Gavian’s green eyes suddenly shine bright. For a single instant, his gaze glowed even more intensely than the thestrals around us, like two emerald firegems at full illumination.

‘Twas not until much later when I’d fought a few gryphons at night that I realized what had happened, and that I hadn’t just imagined it. ‘Twould seem that as Thunderbolt charged, Gavian’s pupils dilated just like a pouncing cat to let in as much light as possible, allowing him to see his approaching enemy with perfect clarity. And mayhap even time his attack appropriately.

It could have been a dead giveaway had his intentions not already been made plain, or if there had been any chance for Thunderbolt to dodge the strike. In hindsight, my mentor’s only chance to defeat that attack would have been to disrupt its timing, but Gavian was far too smart and Thunderbolt too fixed on the idea that his hatred alone made him invincible to make such a plan. Instead, he tried to beat it with his waning speed alone, and ‘tis certain the results speak for themselves.

‘Tis worth noting that Thunderbolt would face that same strike again one day, from a far different but equally potent adversary. But as it lies in the future, ‘tis a tale I will leave untold for now, except to say that whether he could beat it or not would depend on whether he fully learned the lessons of his defeat.

Lessons that, when I visited him the next day, were only just starting to sink in.

WE WILL SURVIVE THIS
by Aniruddh Immaneni | Most Heroic Epic Music

Sickbay
EAS Loyalty
Central District Airship Anchorage
Cloudsdale
September 5th, 1139 AE
1130 hours

Methinks I did not wish to stop standing vigil outside of Sickbay when Sky Sentry appeared.

Nevertheless, his reasons for helping us and telling us to rest were compelling, and in the end, I did not wish to deprive him of some chance to help himself. I also couldn’t help but note that although he had undergone the same horrific experience as Thunderbolt, he had not—at least to that point—become him, though I wasn’t clear on why.

Regardless of the answer, I thought that mayhap he might be able to show my beloved mentor that he did not have to be the demon of vengeance he fancied himself. That he could still fight and serve without losing himself in hatred and bloodlust, showing the same honor and desire to help others as he once had in patiently teaching a half-blind pegasus filly to not just fly, but thrive.

I awoke the middle of the next morning in my bunk, having slept right through reveille. ‘Twas allowed for me as I remained on only very limited duties, still recuperating as I was from the wounds I had suffered during the superstorm fight at Epsilon.

Nevertheless, I immediately headed for sickbay, though ‘twas as much for myself as for Thunderbolt—methinks the Naval healers were less than pleased when I showed up with fresh inflammation in my flight muscles. ‘Twas a consequence of taking wing to help Fell Flight rush Thunderbolt to sickbay the night before, a full two days before I was supposed to be flying again.

When I arrived, I found Sky Sentry, bless his noble soul, still at the door where we had left him. Methinks he had remained there all night without rest, standing vigil as he promised us. He told me that Thunderbolt was on the road to healing, at least physically—that he was alive and out of surgery, and the healers had been astounded by how quickly his wounds were mending even with all their magical help.

All was not well, however. Gavian remained unconscious and in critical condition, even with an exhausted-looking Still Way at his side. I briefly observed him from a distance and found that, despite being cleaned up and patched up, he still looked very much on death’s doorstep.

I did not go to check on him directly as I saw a haggard and sleepless Firefly was there, speaking in clipped tones with her father. I was unaware, of course, that she’d had a rather heated talk with Captain Typhoon earlier in the night, and I also had no idea she had just received some extremely bad news from the ship’s communications office that left her even more upset. But remembering the Captain’s admonition, I decided ‘twas best to stay clear of her, no matter how much I may have wished to offer her comfort.

As for Thunderbolt, they told me he had awoken but was not accepting food. That he was doing nothing but looking up at the ceiling, refusing to respond to anything asked of or said to him.

Captain Typhoon had told us the day before that ‘twas no use talking to Thunderbolt whilst he remained in thrall to his demons. That he would not listen to reason so long as he believed his hatred was holy and made him invincible. But now that his defeat to Gavian had shown such horrifically misguided ideals to be not just false, but the basest form of lie…?

Asking for and receiving permission to speak with him with the warning to keep my time brief, I gathered my courage and approached him. “Sir?” I called to him. “‘Tis Blindside. May we talk?” I asked him politely, saluting and then sitting down at his bedside.

He didn’t answer except for a tightening of his lips and a momentary twitch of his eyes.

Well, at least he recognized me, I thought. “Please, sir. Whatever you’re going through right now, let us help you. You still have friends. For all you did for us, you know Fell Flight and I would do anything for you.” I reached for his limp right hoof, with his left still bandaged from the sword slash that had penetrated his hoofstriker mid-duel.

That finally broke the ice as he pulled the hoof sharply away from me. “Wouldst do anything for a pony exposed as a fraud and a murderer at least two hundred times over?” If I recall, Gavian had challenged him to count how many innocent gryphons he had slain, and though I didn’t think of this at the time, perchance that was the number he came up with. “Why did the Captain save me? Why was I not just allowed to die and end my agony? To face my judgment and be banished to whatever level of Tartarus I deserved?”

“Because we need you, sir,” I told him immediately, automatically echoing Typhoon’s words. “Because all Equestria needs you. But as an honorable soldier, not a soulless slayer.”

He gave a weak and slightly wheezing snort, grimacing at the pain that shot through his still-bandaged chest where Gavian’s sword had slashed and nearly slain him. “If not as a slayer, then what good am I? Thunderbolt the soldier could not save his friends or that village. At least Thunderbolt the slayer could avenge them and then emerge again to save this city!” he told me, and for the first time, I saw tears well in his eyes. “Without that demon that Gavian Ravenoff slew, I fear I am nothing. Without that demon within me, I fear I can do nothing.”

“You are far from nothing, sir,” I answered instantly. “You were a teacher and mentor to many, including me and Fell Flight. You were respected and revered. Loved by ponies and feared by gryphons. From all reports, you single-hoofedly fought off the Imperials and saved countless ponies at the Weather Factory, including Fell Flight’s sister!”

“And all that is gone now,” he said in a dull tone. “The real Thunderbolt is exposed for all to see, and he is no hero. Just a mass-murdering monster who took the lives of countless gryphons whose only crime was being before him.”

“The demon did that, not you,” I insisted, if somewhat tentatively.

“You don’t understand,” he told me, turning his head away from me. “The demon and I are inseparable. I am responsible because I chose to become it, first twelve years ago, and then again four days ago. And this latest time, I not only embraced it, but I reveled in it! When war broke out and I found new gryphons to slay, I was not afraid. Neigh, I was happy.”

‘Tis certain I didn’t immediately know what to say to that, choosing my next words with care. “But in the twelve years before that, you were no demon. You were the most patient of teachers, with me and so many others,” I finally offered, hoping I could remind him that he was far more than simply the monster he now called himself.

“‘Tis true that all that time I fought it, but ‘twas always within me, restrained only by the memories of my friends, and the knowledge that they did not wish to see me descend to such depravity again. But when war came, everything changed.” His explanation sent a chill through me as I suddenly feared that Captain Typhoon had been right—that all the time I had known him, the guise of a teacher had just been a mask he was wearing, hiding his true self.

“I embraced it because I thought, at long last, that I had been given a valid reason for the Tartarus I went through. That the demon I became over the deaths of my friends finally had purpose, and thus, there was a reason for its existence! But now, it turns out ‘twas all a lie!” He started to tear up again. “It means that losing my friends and that village really was for nothing! That all I went through and the demon I became… ‘twas all pointless!” He began to cry openly, unable to even raise a hoof or wing to cover his eyes.

I went to embrace him only to be restrained by a healer’s aura, who told me I could not touch him for fear of reopening his healing but still-fragile chest wound. So all I could do was hold his uninjured hoof as he cried. Methinks ‘twas only then I realized where his anguish came from, and why he’d been so desperate to hold on to the notion that embracing the demon made him invincible.

For ‘twas the only way he was able to give meaning to what happened to him—to give meaning to the loss of all he held dear. But now all that had been wrested from him at the point of Gavian’s blade, leaving him with nothing but his innumerable atrocities done falsely in the name of his fallen friends.

‘Twas more than anypony should ever have to bear, but here he was before me, stripped of all but his grief and pain. I knew not how he could recover emotionally from this, wondering if the Captain’s plan to save him had in fact failed. For to see him there before me, it had left him equally unable to fight for us, not for being uncontrollable but for having his spirit completely and utterly crushed.

“I’m sorry,” he finally told me, turning his head away to hide his tears. “Please leave, Blindside. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“‘Tis my choice to stay here, sir,” I told him, wishing there was more I could do for him. “Fell Flight is on liberty, seeing to her remaining sisters, else she would be here as well.”

“She should hate me too,” he said. “Both for attacking her friend and nearly getting another of her siblings killed.”

“Be assured she does not,” I replied. “She stood vigil with me whilst you were in surgery. Methinks the sentries had to throw her out before she would leave your side.”

“Even after what I did? Even after she now knows what I am?” he said in disbelief, to which I only nodded. “She is far too loyal for her own good. And what of Gavian Ravenoff? Dare I ask how he fares?”

“Not well,” I told him after a brief hesitation, wondering why he was asking. “He collapsed after the duel and has not woken up since. ‘Twould seem the Captain’s technique combined with his wounds overtaxed him, perchance fatally. His condition remains critical, and ‘tis not known if he will survive.” I admit I considered not telling him, but decided against it. ‘Twas not that I thought it wise, ‘twas simply that I could not lie to my mentor.

“So I live and he may yet die?” Thunderbolt paraphrased, a hint of a smile touching his face before it melted away like snow under the spring sun. “Such awful irony. Methinks but a morn before, I would have been happy. But now all I feel is empty. For regardless of his fate or what the Captain did to him, Gavian Ravenoff beat me!” he exclaimed in a quavering voice.

‘Twas some seconds before he could speak again. “By rights, Typhoon’s technique should not have availed him, and yet... it did! His speed, his skill, even his wits and sheer force of will… they were all superior to mine. And methinks none but the first can be credited to the Captain.”

“They were?” I was surprised at his statement, as to me, it had been an incredibly even match, with the advantage constantly shifting between them, leaving the duel in doubt until the very end.

“Aye,” he confirmed, even though I could tell how much the admission pained him. “I know how it looked, but ‘twas all an illusion. I could see his moves clearly, and yet even forewarned, he was so fast I could only barely parry his strikes. Methinks ‘twas only my ability to read him combined with my wind and lighting that allowed me to keep up with him at all,” he explained in defeat, his head slumping back to the table.

“‘Tis agony to say, but ‘tis unquestionably the truth: In every way that matters, he is my superior as a warrior. I did not think such a thing was possible, and yet… here I now lie humiliated, soundly beaten and nearly slain by a sixteen-year old cub.

“And if the demon does not make me unbeatable even against such a young and inexperienced gryphon... then Gavian Ravenoff was right that the demon only lived for his own edification, and not for others. All this time, I thought I was fighting for my friends, but ‘tis now clear I was not. So what do I do now?” he asked not just me, but the world at large.

“You can still fight for your friends, sir,” I told him fervently. “But fight the right way. ‘Tis certain we need you in this war, and methinks you do not require the demon to do so. Regardless of its presence, who is to say that you cannot command again and turn those same combat abilities upon the Imperials in battle?” I challenged. “I would gladly serve under your leadership and obey your orders, as long as they are yours and not those of the demon.”

I had hoped that he would respond positively, but instead he gave a derisive laugh. “Sergeant, just stop. What you ask is not possible. For I am not redeemable. I am not worthy of your respect, and after what I did whilst in command at Rial, sacrificing my own soldiers and gryphon civilians alike, I should never be put in a position of military leadership again.

“If you wish me to give you an order, ‘tis simply this: let me go. I am touched by your affection, but ‘tis certain I cannot do as you ask. I do not blame you for not understanding, as ‘tis simply not something I can explain. For without experiencing what I did, you cannot know what I have been through. Or what it did to me.”

‘Twas a wingslap to the face, and ‘twas then I deflated, realizing I’d done all I could. “No. I cannot,” I admitted, tears streaming down my face as I fully comprehended his enormous anguish, and realized I simply could not relate. “I know not how you suffered. I know not how it changed you.” ‘Twas then I remembered:

“But outside this door, at this very moment, is a pony who does know. A pony who very much wants to help you.”

Thunderbolt didn’t even raise his head at my assertion. “Such utter naivety. How and why could this be? Who else has ever seen all they loved and treasured destroyed, slain brutally before them in but a single horrific hour? How could anypony understand what it is to see all your life’s work ruined? To see every friend and comrade you ever knew fall before you?”

“This pony does.” I had to take a deep breath before answering, trying to choke back tears. “His name is Sky Sentry. And he is the sole survivor of Outpost Delta. He was a Guardspony Sergeant assigned there when the gryphons struck. He took command when his CO and second fell and tried to lead the remnants of his battalion to Epsilon... but all fell en route except him! He has been in agony over it no less than you, blaming himself for being unable to save them and trying to find any meaning in their deaths. So if anypony knows your pain… ‘twould be him.”

Thunderbolt didn’t answer right away, perchance processing what I was saying and unable to come up with an immediate reply. “So if you wouldst not speak of it to me, mayhap you might speak of it to him?” I suggested, nodding to the nearest healer, who went out to retrieve him. “Please do so, sir? For me? Methinks he needs to know somepony understands him as much as you.”

‘Twas several seconds more before he spoke. “To find another pony who went through what I did… am I not enough? How could Harmony allow anypony to suffer in such a way?” He shook his head gingerly, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them and giving a slow sigh.

“Very well, Sergeant. I will speak to him. But not for you, and not because I think he can help me,” he quickly clarified as Sky Sentry entered and their gazes locked for the first time. “Neigh, methinks I will do so to ensure he does not turn out like me…”

Such was my first meeting with Thunderbolt in nearly nine months, and ‘twas anything but a happy occasion. Methinks ‘twas not until we talked that I truly knew what ‘twas to be him, both before and after the duel.

As I left to allow him and Sky Sentry privacy, I was crying, unable to fathom how he functioned at all for what he had been through. Perchance ‘twas only then I understood what it had done to him and why, in the end, he had embraced the demon.

For what else could he do in the face of the Imperial attack? Far from an act of evil, he was acting in the defense of Cloudsdale and the memories of his friends, trying to stave off yet another slaughter of all he held dear. I knew from my own first combat action how seductive the thrill of the kill could be, having felt it at least in passing during the Hearth’s Warming raid on Outpost Epsilon so many months earlier. I had slain two raiders in that engagement and feared how heady I felt over them afterwards, but that minor action ‘twas nothing compared to all that he had endured.

Trying to process what I had heard, I went to eat after that, and—still forbidden from exercise, this time for another four days after taking flight too soon—I decided to resume my adjutant duties, writing reports and catching up on battalion business whilst I awaited my turn to take leave. Just as Fell Flight was visiting her sisters, I wished to visit my mother, who had already responded to my message sent from the ship’s communications office that she was safe and eagerly awaited my arrival.

‘Twas at least one point of relief for me, but even that would be short lived. For ‘twas late afternoon when I received word that a new duel, perchance to the death, was about to erupt on the upper observation deck.

And this time, ‘twould not be between Gavian and Thunderbolt, but instead over them between an equally infuriated Fell Flight and Firefly. But ‘tis not my story to tell, and before that, ‘tis time to return the pen to our newest writer, who I regret I have met only in passing once or twice.

—Blindside

For which I apologize, First Sergeant, but be assured the Bolt Knights were admired in the Equestrian Army as much as the other service branches, and in time, their mere presence over a battlefield provided an instant morale boost to our beleaguered forces. I, too, regret that I have made little effort to know you and your surviving teammates personally, either during or after the war. But in the end, ‘twas for two reasons:

First, I found myself making a conscious effort to not get too close to any of my comrades, lest I felt their loss too keenly when they inevitably fell. And second, when I retired, I found myself with an intense desire to avoid any reminders of my wartime experiences, including meetings with those figures who might make me reminisce.

I am not proud of this by any measure, but ‘twas simply my means of emotional self-defense. Perchance as I write this, I will attempt to rectify it, and thus I extend to all of you an invitation to visit my farm in Stalliongrad, where I will offer you what hospitality I can in the form of a feast serving our best produce, including and especially our special reserve cider.

‘Tis Rock Biter writing again. In truth, ‘tis hard to say how I felt upon penning my first entry into the story’s previous chapter. My fear was that I would indeed reawaken old and unpleasant memories, and ‘tis certain that fear was not misplaced.

And yet… I do not find myself crushed by their weight or having nightmares in their wake. In fact, ‘twas an odd sense of serenity and acceptance I felt; one I never dreamt I could experience, having thought such soothing emotions were beyond me.

I admit, I am not entirely certain of their origin, nor do I fully trust them, in the same sense that I never trusted a lull in combat action during the war. I’d been certain it could only mean that the gryphons were planning some form of subterfuge—which, far too often, they in fact were. But with my initial efforts being surprisingly rewarded, I will continue with them, finding myself strangely eager to do so.

Gryphon subterfuge was certainly at play as evening fell on the fourth day of war. I had just learned in horrifying fashion of the Imperial aerial insertion into our rear areas, which cut our communications and effectively surrounded us. Their actions threatened to trap and pocket the entire 1st Corps at Maresk, costing Equestria another two divisions of sorely needed troops.

That much was clear. ‘Twas far less clear at first what I could do about it, with no orders, limited information, and no way to warn brigade or division headquarters of what was happening.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
Farmer and Father
Amber Apple Orchards
Stalliongrad

SHATTERED DESTINY
by Timothy Shortell & Garrett Weyenberg | Most Epic Dramatic Music

Equestrian Army Encampment
Rear Gate
Twelve miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 4th, 1139 AC
1945 hours

‘Tis certain that civilian casualties are something I have never gotten used to seeing, no matter how much warfare I have endured. The sight of it sickens me, and I had already learned from the Phoenix Fire operation that it did not matter whether those civilians were pony or gryphon.

I simply cannot abide them, but ‘twould seem that the Imperial military was not so constrained. “Please… help us, soldiers!” the younger mare, who looked still in her late teens, begged us through tears and her own bleeding head, pulling a cart full of her dead and dying brethren. “Our town was attacked by gryphons and we barely escaped with our lives!”

“Attacked?” I repeated in confusion as the unicorn medics teleported in with an assortment of supplies, feeling my guts clench anew despite my long combat experience at the gruesome sight of severed limbs and mangled flesh. “But why come here? You were supposed to be heading away from the gryphons! Why are you coming east instead of heading west along the path of retreat?”

“Because we can’t!”she clutched at me with her hooves in fear and desperation, tears streaming down her blood-streaked face. “The gryphons have already arrived! The route west is blocked! They’ve taken Harness Hill, and they’re slaying all who try to pass it!”

“By the sun above…” I realized the implications of that statement instantly, and methinks I was anything but gratified that I had been proven correct and my nightmare scenario had come true—we were surrounded! By taking Harness Hill, they now commanded not just its namesake town, but the main crossroads west of the city, cutting off our only supply route. “They have us.”

Methinks I cannot emphasize enough how dire our predicament was. The loss of that town meant the entire 1st Corps stood enveloped and perchance soon to be annihilated by gryphon forces sweeping in from the flanks, cut off from our communications and our only path of retreat between the dry seabeds.

Before anypony asks, we could not escape across the dry seabeds themselves because, quite simply, they were not-so dry then. As was always the case at this time of year, the late summer rains that Cloudsdale supplied our region in advance of Harvest season had turned them into swamps that were impassable on hoof.

I wanted to curse out Major General Breech Lock in that instant for having ignored my warnings and the obvious danger, but there was no time. If we were to be saved, we had to act immediately, but before I could do anything, I needed to know what we faced.

Thus, I pulled aside the younger mare, who was not initially treated except for basic triage whilst the healers prioritized her more gravely injured compatriots. As I spoke to her, they cauterized her bleeding blade wound with a hastily applied painkilling and searing spell, causing the sickening smell of cooked flesh to waft through the air.

It would seal the wound until the healers could spend more time with her, but she barely reacted. From the looks of her, she was going into shock, less from her physical wounds than all she had witnessed and endured. She was shivering with her gaze downcast, her eyes unfocused.

“Lass? I’m sorry, but I must ask you some questions…” I told her gently, trying not to rush even though I knew time was pressing and I desperately needed answers from her. I chose to speak with her not just because she was the least wounded, but also because she seemed to be holding together the best—that she’d been able to make it the eight miles from Harness Hill in that state was certainly to her great credit. “What is your name?”

“Sw-Sweet Switchel…” she said. “M-my parents ran a p-pub… d-don’t know what h-happened to them...”

“Be assured, we will do everything we can to save them and wrest the town back. But I need information. First, how many gryphons did you see?”

“I… I… I don’t know?” Tears welled in her eyes again as I forced her to remember what she’d witnessed. “S-some hundreds? They struck at dusk! Descended from the sky like a fl-flock of vultures! D-demanded the town’s immediate surrender and wh-when we didn’t g-give it, they started slaughtering everypony!”

“Some hundreds…” I repeated the words despite the grisly declaration, putting myself in the hooves—or talons—of the Imperials. If I was commanding their operation, how many soldiers would I spare to launch an airborne attack into the enemy rear, presumably aware from reconnaissance that there was naught but a militia company there?

Well, if ‘twas me, I would assign a full regiment of Talons to the Task, knowing that would give them a marked advantage of both skill and numbers over such low-quality soldiers. Finally doing what I should have done from the start in analyzing our defenses from the other side’s point of view, I mentally kicked myself for the oversight, blaming myself as well as higher command for neglecting the most basic of military due diligence.

Inexcusably, we hadn’t recognized the hill as a likely Imperial objective given it commanded a critical crossroads. Worse, assigning an earth pony militia company instead of an entire regular army regiment to its defense just made it an even more tempting target, given its capture would instantly cut our communications.

They’d therefore hit the town with a full regiment. Or in gryphon terms, a cohort of 500 soldiers, which would match her description of ‘some hundreds’—minus whatever casualties they’d already suffered plus whatever reinforcements they’d received, of course.

The problem was, a single cohort was likely just the start. Standard Imperial tactics were to lead offensives with far faster and longer-ranged sky gryphons, whether Knights or Talons. They would clear the skies and then swoop in to seize and hold critical points, whilst awaiting reinforcement by earth gryphon soldiers who couldn’t fly more than around a dozen leagues but were far more formidable at ground combat.

Whether or not we could dislodge them would depend on the assault force’s composition. And that meant my next question was: “Were they earth or sky gryphons?”

“Wh-what?” she looked at me in confusion. “Th-they were… gryphons.”

She clearly didn’t know the difference, and why would she? She wasn’t military and as far as most ponies were concerned, gryphons were gryphons; ‘tis doubtful many civilians even knew they had different tribes with different abilities, just as ponies did.

All of which meant I had to find another way to ask the question. “Were their wingspans wider than their bodies were long? Did you see them wield spears or swords? It may not sound important, but these details might very well save the town.”

“I… I…” She began to shake and whimper. I fully realized I was forcing her to recall the slaughter she witnessed, but there was no choice. “L-large wings… saw sw-swords… n-no spears. B-but one had a st-staff...”

“Staff?”

“Y-yes.. he w-was the one who told us to surrender. And wh-when we didn’t, he st-started casting spells from it like a unicorn! Firing lightning bolts at us! He k-killed my brother!” She began to shake harder. “Pl-please, n-no more…”

I swore—so they’d been given at least one Magus in support, and likely two since, from what we knew, they were typically assigned to units in pairs. “I’m truly sorry for your loss and all you have suffered, lass. You’re being very brave. I have but one more question for you, and I promise ‘twill be easy to answer—was the armor the gryphon soldiers wore colored silver or gold?”

“S-silver…” she replied after a moment, causing me to relax in relief, if only fractionally. “N-no gold. M-may I go now? I W-want to be with my friends…”

“Of course. Thank you, lass. You have been most helpful. By the sun itself, I swear we will drive them out of your town,” I promised her, even if I knew not yet how. ‘Twas clear by her description that a cohort of Imperial soldiers had seized the hilltop village and were likely digging in.

But aside from the fact they had Magus support, the news was mostly good—as they lacked gold armor, they were Talon regulars as opposed to elite Knights, and their attacking force was composed of sky gryphons only, meaning that earth gryphons hadn’t been near enough to join the raid and their main columns were likely still some distance off.

That gave us a brief window to try to clear them, as the sky gryphon Talons undoubtedly had orders to hold the town until relieved. But lacking the skill and armor of Wind Knights and the heavier bodies and weapons of earth gryphons, they were simply not as good at ground combat. They could overmatch ill-trained militia, certainly, but would likely be far more vulnerable to the much more capable and better-equipped earth ponies and unicorns of the Equestrian Army—if, that was, the latter could deal properly with their mages.

Put simply, ‘twas true we were surrounded, but the initial shell of Imperial soldiers hemming us was thin and mayhap could be pierced—if we acted immediately. Thus, I ordered the sentries to sound the battle alarms as I placed my blue broadcast gem in the post by the rear gate. The unpleasantly shrill shriek of vibrating crystals was heard throughout the regiment—and neighboring ones, I hoped—as I spoke, my voice booming out again.

“Attention, regiment! The gryphons have seized Harness Hill! They must be cleared immediately, so all soldiers stand to and prepare for battle! All company commanders, break camp and ready your soldiers for offensive action! All senior staff and battalion commanders, report to the rear gate at once!”

Yet again, I am surprised to find that the writing of this section has come surprisingly easily to me, even for the emotions it reawakens. What I recall most clearly of this recounting is not, despite my earlier words, the dead and dying civilians on the floor of the cart.

‘Tis the bravery and determination of this one mare named Sweet Switchel, who kept it together long enough to not just evacuate her friends on the strength of her own will and wounded body, but give me enough intelligence to plan a counterattack.

I regret that I know not her fate, as I had no contact with her after this. So if anypony does know her or what happened to her, methinks I would appreciate a letter. In the meantime, the story of my first combat action in the war continues. Or perchance more appropriately, begins.

—Rock Biter

FATE RISING | by: ScoreHero

Equestrian Army Encampment
Rear Gate
Twelve miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 4th, 1139 AC
2015 hours

“Sir, with all due respect, are you out of your mind?” Twas certain that First Lieutenant Gleaming Gladius, an earth pony mare who had some combat experience against raiders, had never been one to mince words.

She’d only been elevated from company to battalion commander within the past day, given that her well-regarded superior, Captain Breakout, had been given a brevet rank of Lieutenant Colonel and moved up to be second in command of the brigade in the wake of the assassinations we suffered. I might have been far more annoyed at the blatant disrespect of giving him the post instead of me, had I not been so used to it. “You want us to move west and retake Harness Hill?”

“Do you have a problem with that, Lieutenant?” I immediately challenged, even though I knew full well she had a point—’twas certain, after all, that I had severe problems with it, even though I knew well there was no choice in the matter.

“How could I not? By your own admission, sir, we have no orders, no communications with brigade or division and no real understanding of the situation! The gryphons could strike at any time, and yet you want us to leave our lines, march eight miles in darkness with little cover and attack an enemy force of uncertain size and composition? And all on the basis of information you gleaned from a single traumatized civilian?” she summarized, and put that way, ‘twas certain I was hard-pressed to disagree.

She wasn’t done yet, though. “If the gryphons are out there, we would be leaving our prepared defenses to make ourselves easy prey from the air! If an airborne force spots us in the dark, we could be surrounded and slaughtered before even getting halfway there and worse, leave a hole in our lines the gryphons could then exploit! So what you suggest ‘tis sheer and utter insanity!”

Despite her aggressive and borderline insubordinate stance, methinks I was impressed—she had instantly and without prompting spotted every possible issue with my plan. ‘Twas certain to me that such quick thinking boded well for her as a future combat commander. Assuming we had a future, that was.

“With respect, methinks she’s right, sir,” my executive officer, Major Wheat Thresher, added somewhat tentatively. He, too, was new to his post; I’d requested him as my second given he’d worked with me in supply before, and I found him quite competent and knowledgeable at his craft. Whether that would translate to combat command or not remained to be seen, but at least I trusted him to carry out my orders to the best of his abilities.

“Methinks you are asking much of the regiment on the basis of very limited and fragmentary information. Such an action could unhinge the city’s entire rearward defense by leaving a gap in our lines just as the gryphons strike, and ‘tis certain I do not relish the idea of attacking without orders.”

I forced some steel in my voice, knowing well that in order to get them to follow me, I could show no hesitation or weakness. I also had to come up with a rationale they could understand and accept. “Your concerns are noted, Major and First Lieutenant. ‘Tis certain they are valid. Unfortunately, ‘tis also certain they are irrelevant.”

I held up a hoof to forestall the fresh protests that erupted. “The fact of the matter is the city’s defenses are already unhinged! They’ve cut our lines of communication by taking Harness Hill, which means they’ve already enveloped us!

“Don’t you all understand? The entire Corps is now surrounded, and our sole chance to escape this trap is to break their cordon before it’s reinforced! And the only way to do that is to strike west now, before they can get their heavy earth gryphon infantry in place!”

“But sir—” Gladius seemed to be slumping with every word I spoke.

“But nothing, First Lieutenant! If we do not reopen the retreat route quickly, then ‘tis not just the civilians that will suffer! ‘Tis certain they will pocket and destroy both divisions as well as the entire unevacuated population of Maresk! And every minute we stand here bickering is another moment in which their reinforcements might arrive, at which point every soldier and civilian in the city is as good as dead!”

“Sir, I agree that we need to clear the hill and reestablish our supply lines, but why not wait for orders?” My operations officer, an earth pony stallion named Captain Heavy Halberd, tried next. “Given sufficient time, 5th Division would probably assign an entire brigade to the effort instead of just a single regiment! We could then organize and rehearse it properly and—”

“Organize and rehearse?” I cut him off hard, repeating the words in disbelief. “Are you listening to yourself, Captain? And just how wouldst you propose we do that in enough time for it to matter? We have no means to communicate with the outside, no promises of reinforcement or relief from the west, and no guarantee that Brigade or Division will even act! The only guarantee we do have is that with every passing minute our position is degrading further!

“Within hours, they will have dug in on that hill with a full millennium of earth gryphon Talons with sky gryphon support, at which point it could take the entire division to dislodge them—assuming Breech Lock even allows us the chance to attempt it!” I told them all, trying not to lose patience.

They then fell silent, perchance sensing the truth of my words. “Am I wrong? If so, how?” I challenged them all. “I understand the risks, but they do not change this simple truth: our sole chance of success and saving the entire Corps is striking now, before they can reinforce and dig in! Before we leave, we will dispatch runners to neighboring regiments and militia units to inform them of what we’re doing, and to tell them to stretch out to fill our vacated lines. But leave we will, for we are the closest force and the only ones who can do the job in time!

“If we succeed in this attack, we will occupy Harness Hill until relieved and keep the road of retreat open whilst the Corps falls back towards Melody—methinks that not even Breech Lock could deny the need to withdraw now,” I mused, even if I wasn’t sure that stubborn old mare would actually see reason.

“And if we fail?” Gladius asked, her voice far more subdued.

I gave her a level look. “Then we die and the entire Corps is lost—which is no different an outcome than if we do nothing whilst awaiting orders that may never come, Lieutenant.”

She deflated, hard. My underlings then exchanged a series of looks; to my eyes, some of their expressions were pleading with the others to come up with some alternate plan or logic that would invalidate mine. But in the end, none could.

“My orders are given,” I told them all, deciding that even if not convinced, they were at least resigned to them. “Ready your battalions for a rapid march with unicorn archers dispersed for air defense and to cast camouflage spells. Captain Starstruck, dispatch message runners to neighboring forces informing them of our plans, and also tell them to get word to Brigade and Division.” I nodded to Wheat Thresher, who hurriedly jotted the message that would be passed.

I then drew my personal sword from its side-mounted scabbard, taking its hilt in my mouth to scratch into the dirt beneath our hooves, under the light of Starstruck’s horn.

“We will head west in a single column, with Lieutenant Gladius in the lead. she will make first contact and hold the Talons’ attention, whilst I maneuver the other two battalions to engage the Imperials based on what she encounters. Make them commit the bulk of their forces against you, Lieutenant, so we can strike into their rear or hit a newly vulnerable flank,” I added to her, to which she grimaced but nodded, perchance knowing she was going to take heavy casualties in the process. “We move out in ten minutes, and ‘tis my intention to drive the gryphons from that hill within an hour regardless of the losses we take,” I told them all bluntly before she could mention it. “Are my orders understood?”

As one, they nodded or said yes. “Then battle is upon us, comrades. For the Corps, for the Army and for all Equestria, fight hard and fight well! Do so, and perchance the Moon Goddess will look upon us favorably this night,” I offered up a public prayer, my eyes glancing upwards to the red-hued moon.

“And may the Mare in the Moon guide us…” a previously silent Captain Starstruck added as my battalion commanders came to attention and saluted, then ran or teleported off to get their troops ready to march.

J2 & Chroma Music - Heroes Will Rise

Methinks I will cease my recounting here, as I am finding my memories of the events to follow strangely fuzzy. For the first time in my life, I find myself with an urge to revisit an old battlefield, and retrace my steps. So perchance I will depart for Maresk soon, which is now a simple center of commerce more than a major military base.

Methinks I will find the site of our old encampment, and then walk west along our march route to Harness Hill. I cannot but wonder and fear if the result will be severe flashbacks, and yet… the desire to return remains. And who knows? Perchance when I reach the town, I will find a familiar face there.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)

And if you wish, ‘twill be my pleasure to greet and escort you, General, though I will also understand if ‘tis a journey you wish to take alone. I am greatly gratified you finally decided to write for this retelling, and ‘tis my hope that you will yet find some of the same solace most of us already have.

Greetings, one and all. ‘Tis Firefly again, having returned a day early from the gryphon city of Nova Ocelota in the Canarian Maritimes. ‘Tis a rocky, stormy, windswept place whose waterfront reeks of fish, but whose pubs have some surprisingly strong drinks and whose residents find fun in my old teenage pastime—bar brawls. ‘Twas rather fun to participate in a few again, and with gryphons, no less!

I returned early because Gavian had already left with his family on a fast skiff for the Kingdom, whilst Firehawk told me to leave, saying she loved me but ‘twas time for her to stand apart from me. She promised she would write when she could, though mail service from that isolated colony on the Ebon Ocean is sparse at best and subject to Ibexan interdiction.

She also told me to not worry about her, and to let her do this for the gryphons I once fought. At the very least I can say that for the first time, I fought at her side, taking on an entire pub full of rather rough and ready earth gryphon mariners along with one or two Nightborne thestrals that had made their homes there. We fought back to back and gave far worse than we got, earning the respect of all present, so I at least return knowing that we made some friends and she can indeed take care of herself.

May it be enough. I have also come home to some surprising news—namely, the honor planned for Gavian upon his arrival in the Kingdom. I have just been told of it by a letter left for me by Ambassador Kaval himself, and ‘tis certain my feelings on the matter are quite mixed. ‘Tis no question a great honor they are about to bestow on him, but I fear what it might mean for perceptions of him, both here and over there. Worse, it might also mean he becomes a target for gryphon challenges, seeking to usurp his new rank and title.

Nor am I certain how Gavian himself will take it. He does not actually like drawing attention to himself, and ‘tis certain this will. But as there is nothing I can do about it now except await word, methinks I will arrange to meet General Rock Biter in Maresk, and perchance see if I can find any leads on that earth pony he mentioned wishing to meet again.

Oh, and Fell Flight? Methinks you will be happy to know that I do not return empty-hooved—I have several exotic breeds of fish for your herd to eat, courtesy of your admirers amongst the Nova Ocelota Nightborne. I also return with a cask of aged gryphon rum from the owner of the pub I frequented, though perchance I will keep that one for myself!

—Firefly

Why, thank you, Captain! I very much look forward to eating them. So the town you visited had not just fish, but booze, brawls, and bat-ponies? ‘Tis all the best things in life, so methinks I may have to plan a trip to Nova Ocelota myself!

—Fell Flight

“Heroism doesn’t always happen in a burst of glory. Sometimes small triumphs and large hearts change the course of history.” —Mary Roach

Author's Note

When people ask me what the most difficult part of this story is, it's not writing battle scenes or the graphics, laborious though I often find them. It's juggling all the various characters and plot threads in the context of the greater war, keeping the narrative coherent and on course as the story--and invasion--proceeds. Sometimes I'm amazed I do as well with it as I have, but it helps that I've got some a fine prereader crew and think about this stuff constantly.

Speaking of prereaders, a warm welcome goes to Silverblade5, joining Leo Archon, Silentwoodfire, and AJ_Aficionado for this particular effort. Denim_Blue, unfortunately, may have left the site, which will be problematic for the changeling chapters he was writing. But let me worry about that for now. As for the story, you know what's coming next. If you were expecting combat in this chapter, my apologies, but it's the kind of thing where it needs its own chapter, and the existing chapter is best ended on the brink of battle.

Second Offensive: 5 - The Battle of Harness Hill

Dear readers:

Methinks I say this far too often, but I must apologize again for the dearth of entries of late. Especially on the cusp of renewed combat, when ‘tis finally time for the spotlight to fall on our beleaguered comrades in the Equestrian Army. ‘Twas not planned, but unavoidable as I was spending considerable time making trip arrangements with General Rock Biter, including locating and inviting some additional ponies along for the visit who will be revealed shortly.

‘Tis been said before, but ‘tis worth saying again: Though ‘twas the Navy and elite groups such as the Bolt Knights that would gain an undue share of wartime fame, ‘twas in fact the Equestrian Army that bore the brunt of the fighting and casualties, and ‘twas unquestionably its many earth pony and unicorn soldiers who held the line and eventually turned the winds of war in Equestria’s favor.

But a delay in continuing this tale was necessary for not one, but two reasons. First, much to his own surprise, General Rock Biter found he wished to retrace his hoofsteps from the opening days of the war, starting with his old encampment at Fort Poppy southwest of Maresk and from there, proceed along the Harness Highway to find the sites of his initial battles and perchance even the mare named Sweet Switchel he met but once.

So I helped arrange his trip from his farm at Stalliongrad—he simply does not leave home much any longer—and in the process, I introduced him more formally to the surviving Bolt Knights and our herds. At least, those who were available.

As ‘twas his journey into his wartime memories, one I was merely present for as a fellow pony and soldier, I will allow him to describe his trip and what he found. For now, I will say that ‘twas not an entirely happy experience for him, but he also found some surprising catharsis along the way.

The second matter concerned Gavian. Despite my anxiety, his visit to the Kingdom has thus far gone well, and I have received regular updates on it from the fast couriers of the newly founded Gryphon Express delivery service dispatched across the Antlertic Ocean. His airship trip from Nova Ocelota to Aresia took three days and ended at the Kingdom’s port city of Catlais, where he and his family received a royal air carriage and Paladin escort the rest of the way.

After another half-day of travel, they were given diplomatic quarters and allowed to both eat and rest before being brought before Queen Jeyenne herself, at her newly constructed royal palace on the topmost level of Arnau. ‘Tis the Kingdom’s new mountainside capital and stronghold, carved not unlike Canterlot directly out of its granite face.

He was escorted to Aresia and then presented to her by Ambassador Kaval and Marquis Ampok personally, for which I am very grateful to both. ‘Tis worth noting that I offered to come, but ‘twas turned down, with my old foe and friend warning that my presence would likely make Gavian’s acceptance in the former Empire more difficult, not less.

He, of course, promised me that he and his Uxor—the Aeric word for ‘wife’—would look after Gavian, and deal with any issues and outright challenges he could not.

The rest I will leave for Gavian to tell, in the form of his latest letter, which I have annotated in places for explanation to those unfamiliar with his immediate family.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Dear Mother,

As always, I hope this letter finds you well. I write now to tell you that at long last, we have been received by Queen Jeyenne; presented before her court. ‘Twas certainly expected, but what happened next ‘twas most certainly not!

‘Twould be a lie to say I was not nervous over our meeting, especially still disoriented as I was by the trip and the unfamiliar place we found ourselves. Despite our opulent palace quarters—a place that strikes a far different but equally grand tone to Canterlot Castle—we could not sleep that first night in Arnau, both due to anxiety and the unfamiliar environs we found ourselves in.

The Falcine mountain range Arnau was built on ‘tis said to be from where our race originally sprung. ‘Tis a belief my very blood seems to confirm just by being here, but ‘tis still a place I have never been.

Cara [Caracala Coreq,Gavian’s wife —Firefly] fretted endlessly how other gryphons would receive us, given the slightly cool reaction we got from some of the skiff crew on the journey across the Antlertic, whilst Sparrow Hawk [their 8-year old firstborn daughter], misses her pony friends already and is unused to being around so many gryphons; she is also afraid to try speaking Aeric for fear her accent will earn her immediate ostracization.

Though the Queen welcomed us warmly, ‘twas not a universal sentiment. Some senior nobles openly argued that I was not truly a Gryphon after siding with Equestria during the war, further doubting what they’d been told of my battle feats given my small size.

I was well aware that such a thing could happen thanks to the Ambassador’s coaching, and I already knew what was required for me to be fully accepted. So despite my fatigue, I dared one particularly obtuse noble who slandered me to duel me—to find out just how much of a gryphon I truly was. I did not doubt the outcome, even though I was not at my best; I could tell just by looking at him that he was no match for me.

‘Twas then the Queen told us that there was no need for a duel, as I had already won the greatest duel in all of gryphon history. She informed her court that if anygryphon discounted my combat ability or commitment to the gryphon race, then they should see that duel directly. ‘Twas then she unveiled her first surprise, and ‘twas one that neither I nor even the Ambassador and Marquis had any idea was coming:

A memory recording of my duel with Thunderbolt, taken directly from the mind of the disguised Raven eagless who had been present in Cloudsdale that night!

I had already seen one such recording through the eyes of the late and sorely missed Still Way. He presented it to me whilst I lay fallow following the duel, seeking to salve my severe pain. But this one presented it from the viewpoint of the crowd, and ‘twas exactly as the eagless had described it.

‘Twas a surreal experience to see as the Queen’s personal Magus projected it. The sight of my younger self engaged in mortal combat with such a powerful and implacable foe caused both Cara and Sparrow to cling to me as they saw it for the first time, with the latter clutching me hard and crying before all was said and done.

Indeed, all present fell silent as my battle with Thunderbolt unfolded, and by the time it ended, nary a word of additional neighsaying was spoken. Upon its conclusion, Queen Jeyenne issued a proclamation that the recording of the duel should be enshrined at the under-construction Kingdom Hall of Heroes “so that all gryphons may witness and revere it for as long as our sacred and mighty race exists.”

She would not hear of any objection, not even from me, as I tried to protest that I did not wish to be recognized for that fight—that I had simply done what any honorable gryphon would do.

“‘Tis simply not true, as countless Imperial soldiers, subjects and assassins fell to this monster in pony form. ‘Tis certain to us that none could defeat this dread demon but thou, Gavian Ravenoff, and thou art far too humble for thy feat!” she told me in a tone that brooked no argument.

‘Twas then the second surprise was unveiled, as the current earth gryphon commander of the Kingdom’s elite Talaeus, Tribune Trigris Rex,stepped forth and saluted me. He then presented me with my twin Raven scimitars, which had been taken from me before I entered the royal hall, inviting me to spar with him before the Queen herself!

Though honored, I initially declined, explaining I simply could not give him a good match in my current sleepless and disoriented state. To which he replied that wartime never allowed for such luxuries, and the true test of a warrior’s mettle was whether he could still function and fight well when he was not at his best.

‘Twas little I could say to that, as ‘tis certain his words were true. So I accepted my blades, and whilst my wife and cubs watched in some worry, I reared up and took my guard stance. He invited me to attack, to which I replied—was he not the challenger here?

Agreeing I was correct, he did so, and was on me with such speed the duel nearly ended before it began. Though I am hardly a sprightly sixteen-year old cub any longer, ‘twas still a surprise that another gryphon—particularly an earth gryphon!—could match my speed.

Still, you wouldst be proud of me, mother—I did not succumb. In only barely parrying his first blow, I got the full measure of his speed and skill, or so I thought, as the shock of his attack jolted my mind out of its stupor and limbs out of their sluggishness. My blood pumping and adrenaline surging, I was initially forced back but finally found my combat rhythm and began to meet him on more even terms.

Methinks I succeeded in at least holding my own for the better part of a minute, but in the end, with my fatigue building and focus faltering anew, I simply could not stand against him as he finally penetrated my guard to throw me to the floor with a single set of talons, his heavy scimitar shortly at my throat.

‘Twas certain to me I had failed whatever test I had been given, and yet… ‘twas not sounds of disappointment and derision that greeted me from the assembled nobles, but agape beaks and other silent expressions of awe.

“Such surprising skill…” the Talaeus Tribune mused as I lay beneath his blade. “Such spirit and strength of will, coupled with such an unusual but effective combat style. In my estimation, his victory over the demon Thunderbolt was no accident, or a mere byproduct of Captain Typhoon’s technique. He is indeed worthy, My Queen.” He sheathed his blade whilst offering me his talons.

“Worthy?” I just managed through panting breaths. “But I lost!”

“Of course you did. I am twenty years your junior and could even hold my own against Ambassador Kaval himself!” The Tribune stated in a matter-of-fact manner reminiscent of his predecessor in his prime, who smiled as he watched from the side. “But you lasted nearly a minute, when few could stand against me for more than mere moments. That is why they are amazed,” he said with a grin and motion of a foreleg to the still-stunned nobles around me.

“I tried to put you down quickly but could not, and ‘twas thus forced to slowly wear you down whilst I looked for an opening, which you did not provide until your guard blade was a fraction of a second slow. ‘Twas an impressive display, and I hope you will grant me the honor of another match, when you are fully rested. And are in proper uniform.”

“Proper uniform?” I said between pants as I finally accepted his help, at which time my daughter ran at and hugged me despite my wife’s admonition, trying to glare the Tribune away from me.

“Indeed,” he said as he smiled warmly at my daughter despite her ruffled feathers and trilling growl. “And to that end, I invite you to visit the Talaeus training grounds tomorrow morning, after you have had a proper night’s rest and meal…”

You wouldst forgive me, mother, if I leave the story there, but I am quite tired and finally feel I can sleep. I have nary an idea of what he intends aside from the coy grins on the faces of Ambassador Kaval and Marquis Ampok, but ‘tis certain I will know tomorrow.

—Gavian Ravenoff
Headmaster
Celestial Art Academy
Canterlot

Of course, my beloved son. Needless to say, I know of what they plan for you, and though my feelings on the matter are… mixed, ‘tis no doubt an incredible honor they will shortly bestow on you. Blindside, Stormrunner and I look forward to seeing you in that new uniform, though Fell Flight seems somewhat less enthusiastic. But then again, methinks she has always been difficult to impress!

—Firefly

I am happy for him if ‘tis his wish, Captain. But perchance you wouldst understand if I care almost as little for them as I do the Ravens!

Greetings, one and all. ‘Tis Fell Flight speaking now. I have accompanied the Captain and her herdmates to meet General Rock Biter as he begins his long trip down memory wind, but I will not be staying long. My herd stallion Oberen and I are off to Nova Ocelota for a long-needed vacation, seeking the chance to reconnect as the winter solstice nears. Our foals have been left under the care of Aves Osprey and the third mare of our herd, Andromeda, until we return in time for Hearth’s Warming.

Though some ponies might say that a stormswept coastal fishing village full of seedy pubs and inns—a place where darkness falls for twenty hours in winter—is not their idea of a vacation resort, I must disagree. Oberen wishes to both hunt the animal denizens of the frigid interior and charter a fishing vessel to try his wing at spearing sabrefish, whilst I look forward to everything from the northern lights to imbibing potent gryphon spirits.

‘Twould also be a lie to say I do not wish the chance to brawl with the thestral and earth gryphon sailors back to back with my stout soldier stallion, enjoying far friendlier fights than the mortal combat we knew back in the war! We are further told by Captain Firefly they also have some excellent saunas and spring-fed hot tubs to enjoy, allowing us to soak in warmth whilst coastal tempests and blizzards from the interior rage.

‘Tis also a chance to enjoy large helpings of meat again, especially given they have ample quantities of not just seafood but many exotic game meats from the wild interior unknown in Thestralslovakia. As you brought some back for me, Captain, methinks I would be more than happy to save some for you!

—Fell Flight

With apologies, I believe I will decline that generous offer, First Lieutenant.

But I do hope you enjoy yourself, and if I may make one additional suggestion? Try the Gletscher Inn, founded by a gryphon trading clan. Good spirits, good company, a good view of the docks, and a Nightborne-run restaurant that serves both fruit and fish await you there.

If you’re lucky, ‘tis possible they will even have mangoes available, but don’t get your hopes up—‘tis an infrequent treat that far north, as shipments of them are rare, and when they arrive, they tend to go through them quickly given the population of bat-ponies present!

And if you want a true challenge? Simply insult the honor or masculinity of the earth gryphon ship master named Jacquar Passer, who frequents the Inn’s pub when he is not out sailing. His eyepatch and the multiple saber scars on his jaguar-spotted and osprey-feathered body make him impossible to miss. He will be more than happy to brawl, but do not be surprised if he knocks you flat on your flank!

He is no slouch in the realm of combat, having commanded Imperial surface vessels during the war; he can tell some truly harrowing tales of fighting off Hippogriff and Harpie attacks on them. If he finds your fighting skill worthy, methinks he may even offer you that fishing charter for free?

I look forward to hearing of your exploits over Hearth’s Warming, but until then, we have kept our readers for long enough. ‘Twas my original intention to have an additional section detailing the confrontation that occurred when Fell Flight and I met the next day after Gavian’s duel with Thunderbolt. But upon reflection, ‘twould take the focus from where it belongs—General Rock Biter and the Equestrian Army.

So ‘tis to him I pass the quill again, as the first battle of his original regiment loomed.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain. And thank you as well for helping to arrange this trip. ‘Tis odd, but ‘tis the first time I have been away from my farm in nearly ten years. ‘Tis also strange that I settled and found some degree of peace in the city I defended that marked the bitterest battle of the war, but perchance I simply thought that for as much as I did to destroy it, ‘twas only fitting that I helped revive it.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
Farmer
Amber Apple Orchards
Stalliongrad

Greetings to all once more. ‘Tis Rock Biter speaking again—and before anypony asks, I prefer not to be addressed as a General, as I consider myself far more a farmer than soldier now. Regardless, ‘twas with no little trepidation that I arrived in Maresk courtesy of a Naval transport detailed by Captain Firefly, fearful of flashbacks.

I expected to see her and First Lieutenant Fell Flight, who introduced her herd’s thestral husband to me—a fine Nightborne stallion, to be sure. What I did not expect was to be greeted by six surviving soldiers of my old Daisy regiment, who told me that they wished to accompany me on my journey.

That they would not let me face my demons without their aid any more than they would have abandoned me during the course of the campaign against the gryphons.

I admit I was initially less than pleased at their appearance, given I told Captain Firefly I wished a private tour only, with my old inclinations to avoid former comrades rearing its ugly head again. But they would not hear of me facing that fight alone, and thus informed me that they would escort me the entire way.

To my surprise—and yes, I know I am using that phrase much in my writing—I found myself touched despite my ire, never having thought I inspired such intense loyalty in my soldiers. For why would I be remembered well by them given the heavy losses we oft suffered that were in large measure due to my stubborn defenses?

Defenses where I simply was willing to pay the full measure of blood to ensure our lines held, and the gryphons could not advance swiftly enough to overwhelm us.

‘Tis an odd feeling for me to enjoy the company of old comrades, yet here I now am, writing this from our old campground southwest of Maresk, which back then was a field of poppies. ‘Tis now a full-blown orchard which grows not just the peaches some of my unknowing soldiers ate for their final meal, but corn and wheat as well for export to gryphon lands. In a further sign of how much things have changed, there was a gryphon bakery present in Maresk selling an array of goods; ‘twas the first time I ever enjoyed a gryphon-made pastry.

Nevertheless, just being here is indeed spurring my memory. And yet, ‘tis not the battle I remember most keenly. ‘Tis the smell of sweet peaches being soaked in cream. ‘Tis the sight of poppies in their final pre-autumn bloom. ‘Tis the refreshing breeze that blew through camp, stirring our manes and cooling our faces. ‘Tis the beautiful rosy sunset that gave way to a red moon illuminating starry skies.

‘Tis the faces and voices of those I led, some of whom are here with me yet again.

How is it, methinks I now must ask myself, that I am remembering the good about this place far more than the bad? Have I just been so focused on my memories of death and destruction that I lost sight all these years of what balanced it?

Could it be that at long last, I am able to see what I willfully turned away from for all this time? And if so, have I truly been a foal for denying it to myself? Or was I simply unable to do so before this, before enough time had passed?

I know not the answers. But nor will I seek them yet. Instead, I will begin to follow the Daisy regiment’s march trail to Harness Hill in the company of my old comrades, plus Bolt Knights Captain Firefly, Blindside, Stormrunner, Fell Flight and Oberen.

They offered to remain behind, but I requested they accompany us. For if I am to make amends for past shunnings, methinks I shall start here.

Get Ready to Fight — 1hr Epic Battle and Workout Mix

Equestrian Army Encampment
Rear Gate
Twelve miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 4th, 1139 AC
2025 hours

Methinks pulling the regiment into march order took far more time than I would have liked.

A properly disciplined and practiced regiment should have been able to break camp and fall into march formation in under two minutes, but it took us nearly eight to get everypony together and in proper order, with squads of unicorn archers spaced so they could cover the bulk of us with spells and arrows if needs be.

I further ordered them to slap soundproofing and shroud spells over us in hopes that might get us a little closer to the hilltop village before being detected, studying the map I had of the town closely in the meantime to make sure I knew its layout well.

‘Tis certain we were as ready as we were going to be. Nevertheless, ‘twas with no little trepidation we departed our camp, though not before one unicorn orderly from brigade reached me via teleport, saying that my warning of Harness Hill’s capture had indeed reached higher command. She then presented me with a written order to stay put, which promised to relieve me of my post if I didn’t.

As my soldiers watched, I tore up the missive and threw it to the ground before the startled mare, directing her to inform higher command that I was not going to obey any order that resulted in our destruction.

“You may tell the great and illustrious Brigadier General Bambi”—that was our nickname for Bamboo Blade, our newly promoted and rather abrasive brigade commander, which ‘twas a moniker she roundly despised and punished any who used it—“that she may relieve and court-martial me later… after I have retaken the Hill and she has retreated past it!”

My actions resulted in an eruption of cheers and laughs, which ‘tis certain were heartening; I even caught a nod of approval from Gleaming Gladius as she departed for the head of her column, whilst I elected to remain with the trailing battalions to make sure I could maneuver them properly.

“Comrades! For Princess and province! For our friends and families! And to save our brothers and sisters in arms at Maresk! Forward!” I ordered in what I hoped was a tone of inspiration and confidence as we set off, leaving our camp and the befuddled orderly behind.

* * * * *

Two minutes out from the cover of friendly lines and suddenly feeling far more exposed, I ordered the regiment to increase the pace to double-quick at least as far as the coming crossroads, allowing us to cover more than half a mile a minute and close the distance to Harness Hill quickly.

‘Twas a pace the earth ponies would have no problems with, but the unicorns might if we sustained it for very long. ‘Twas a lesson I had initially learned the hard way back during Phoenix Fire, when we got repeatedly stalled because the stamina-poor unicorns could not keep up with the earth ponies at a time when speed of advance was crucial.

The result was costly and repeated delays that were compounded by failures to communicate properly with Corps forces, causing them to get strung out ahead of us and not be reinforced in time.

‘Twould not be the case here if I could help it, as I knew earth ponies alone could not win this fight. The order was passed along by communication crystals, and half a minute later, the call went out from battalion to company to platoon commanders.

”At the double-quick! March!”their respective COs called out in rough chorus at a final signal from my gem, and our pace instantly increased to a trot, doubling our speed of advance at the cost of losing some coherence of our march formation. But it could be rapidly regained, and I wanted to close with our enemy quickly before they could see us despite our shrouds and launch an airstrike on us.

If they did, we could be scattered and slaughtered by Imperial soldiers raining down explosive arrows from above. There was little cover in the semi-arid grasslands that ringed the dry seabeds short of digging fresh trenches, and unicorn shields would only last so long against sustained bombardment.

Never mind what would happen if Gryphon mages suddenly appeared.

Speaking of whom, ‘twas also a definite danger that the two Magus Knights in Harness Hill might detect the magical emissions of our communications crystals, so their use would have to be minimized as we got closer.

All this ran through my mind just as the lead battalion of Gleaming Gladius, consisting of three understrength companies—we were far from our prescribed wartime strength of one thousand ponies; according to the last muster we had just over seven hundred—reached the crossroads to a sudden eruption of fighting I could see from the next battalion to the rear; I heard a series of booms and battle cries followed by the sight of red gryphon flares shooting into the air.

I had just started grabbing for the command crystal on my belt when it vibrated and glowed. “Sir! Beg to report!” First Lieutenant Gleaming Gladius called out through her linked gem.

“What happened, Lieutenant?” I asked, though I feared I already knew.

“My lead company ran right into a gryphon Turma at the crossroads! We stumbled over some explosive gems they had strewn to protect themselves whilst they were digging in! We scattered them, killing six, but they got a dozen of us and fired off those warning flares! ‘Tis certain they know we’re coming, sir!” she told me heatedly and angrily; I could hear the accusing tone in her voice.

“Methinks we should turn back now and return to friendly lines! The gryphons are already forming up over the town, and if we continue on, ‘tis certain they’ll catch us in the open and rain death down on us from above!”

I swore violently, knowing that for a second time, I had failed to anticipate the tactics of our foe—of course they would have stationed troops at the crossroads, overseen from Harness Hill and in easy view of their forces there! ‘Twould give them warning of enemy ground movement whilst also allowing them to ambush smaller units or civilians that came through unaware!

“We are not turning back!” I told her angrily despite the loss of surprise and the disaster it could portend. On the one hoof, ‘tis certain she was right—‘twas no doubt the gryphons were already dispatching several centuries to strike us, and to move forward under their coming barrage of crossbow bolts would cost us dearly, potentially ripping the heart out of Gleaming Gladius’ lead battalion before she could even reach the base of the Hill.

“But sir—!”

“I said forward!”Ishouted into my gem. “2nd battalion, shift east onto Eerie Road and prepare to assault the town! 1st and 3rd battalions! Enter echelon formation with 2nd battalion as the spearhead; 1st and 3rd in the rear from right to left!”

I waited for my instructions to be carried out before I gave my next set of orders, hoping we could get organized for the assault before the gryphon centuries now forming up over the town could. But it soon became clear that hope was in vain as I could just see what might have been two centuries of gryphons winging towards us. So ‘twas then I made a choice that I reasoned would either win the battle, or lose the entire regiment.

“2nd Battalion; move all unicorn archers to the fore of the formation! Cast shield and fire flare spells! Dazzle the gryphons and cover the earth ponies from ahead as they assault the town!”

“Are you mad? That will cost us most of our unicorns!” Gleaming Gladius instantly protested, recognizing as I did that to leave them exposed without earth pony protection would be to invite the gryphons to concentrate fire on them; the magical shields the average unicorn could produce could only withstand a few explosive bolts or gems before collapsing; their death ‘twas certain after that.

But ‘twas also now further to friendly lines than to Harness Hill, meaning that to retreat would be to expose ourselves to that assault for a longer period. Perchance they would break off their pursuit when we retreated, but even if we made it, our abortive effort ‘twould leave us trapped with the rest of the Corps.

“But mayhap will allow the earth ponies enough cover to reach the hilltop town, where the advantage will be theirs in close quarters! We cannot turn back, for we will not get a second chance to drive them off!” I reasoned.

“2nd Battalion! By my order, and under the cover of unicorn spellcasting, charge the town!” My voice boomed out as I switched to my blue voice projection crystal, which used less magic and—I hoped—would prevent the two gryphon mages present from sensing and locking onto me as the probable commanding officer, with my collection of active communication gems lighting me up as a magical nexus.

I admit, I had a moment of worry when I did not see my orders instantly obeyed, believing that Gleaming Gladius was going to defy me. But she was merely taking time to get her archers set; I could just see a series of distinctive flashes as the unicorns teleported to the front, followed by several launching flares so they could see their approaching foe. ‘Tis worth noting that a unicorn night vision spell did exist, but few could cast such a complex incantation and fewer still actually knew it.

‘Twas even a spell to give regular ponies thestral eyes, but ‘twas even rarer; unknown outside of the Royal Navy which had only kept it in homage to the bat-ponies who once crewed it.

Allow me to pause briefly to note that I have passed this amongst my soldiers and Captain Firefly for comment. The latter has pointed out a question that ‘twould likely be asked by readers unfamiliar with Army tactics or the difference in abilities between our races—why light ourselves up like that and give the gryphons easier targets?

The answer is that, quite simply, gryphons have strong night vision and could already see us clearly in the twilight of approaching night; even through darkening shrouds which only stood out to their eyes once they knew we were there. Their night vision was not as strong as thestrals, to be sure, but ‘twas enough to give them an instant advantage over us, striking from ranges we could not see in the deepening dusk.

In short, darkness ‘twas our ally only so long as the Imperial Talons did not know we were coming. Once they did, ‘twas certain they could find us quickly. Though I was far from the seasoned commander I became at that point, even then I knew that our best chance to fight them was to light them up as well, and perchance even force them to flinch their eyes away with flares.

‘Tis certain such tactics were less effective against gryphons than thestrals, but any advantage would be accepted here.

—Rock Biter

It worked, but only to a point as the first flares went up to illuminate a century of approaching airborne Imperials, in their standard turma attack formations; spread out in a wide inverted V-shape with the two flanking decades in the lead and higher than that of the third squad that was between them and lower. ‘Twas a formation designed to maximize multiple firing lines to the front and flanks and minimize the danger of not just return fire, but the different decades catching each other in a crossfire.

Methinks I couldn’t help but admire their practiced tactics as bolts began raining down on Lieutenant Gladius’ galloping battalion from above. The first were intercepted by unicorn shields, with half casting them whilst the rest took the role of archers beneath them to strike targets of opportunity.

They scored a few initial hits, sending perchance a score of gryphons wounded or dead to the ground, but ‘twas nowhere near enough as the sky gryphon Talons simply absorbed the blows and immediately targeted them, trying to strip the attacking formation of its cover.

‘Twas the wrong tactic to use, or so I thought as I prepared to order the other two battalions into a gallop as well. I was waiting for the gryphons to commit the bulk of their forces against Gleaming Gladius, who, from what I could see and hear, had already taken at least forty casualties, mostly among the unicorns as the turmas focused on each knot of them in turn. They knocked down their shields with crystal-tipped bolts before following up with volleys of armor-piercing and explosive ones in turn.

‘Twas hard to watch, knowing I had all but ordered their deaths, but ‘twas working. For whilst the Talons were wasting time taking down the unicorns, our earth ponies had made it halfway to the town. At full gallop, the earth ponies of 2nd battalion could cover the remaining mile and a half in roughly two minutes, and still have enough stamina left to climb the hill.

They could then make it into the town where they could mix it up with the sky gryphons in urban combat that ‘twould favor them, particularly under the light of some newly burning buildings—which I later found out were not the results of gryphon destruction, but long-range incendiary arrows launched at thatched and wooden rooftops.

‘Twas by Gladius’, order, so that her remaining unicorns would not have to continually fire flares to keep the scene illuminated.

Thirty seconds passed. Then sixty. Then ninety. As I watched from the head of 1st battalion, the rate of Imperial crossbow fire on their formations increased as additional Talon centuries came into play from the other side of the town, and our unicorns were no longer numerous or powerful enough to hold back the onslaught.

They finally began focusing on the charging earth ponies directly just as they reached the base of the hill. My insides clenched as I watched the well-aimed bolts strike home; a hail of steel-piercing arrows that began to cut our earth ponies down, spearing right through their heavy armor.

And yet, despite that, I ordered my other two battalions to halt their advance half a mile out. “Sir! They need reinforcements!” Starstruck pleaded with me as she witnessed the increasing carnage. “If we don’t help, they’ll be slaughtered!”

“Not yet,” I told her shortly, my lip tight. “We wait until their mages show themselves…”

For those who wonder why I was so reluctant to see old comrades, scenes like this were why.

‘Twas not just that I feared being reminded of battle trauma; ‘twas that my ability and willingness to sacrifice my soldiers appalls me to this day. Such orders came incredibly easy for me in the heat of battle; I thought no more about sending a whole battalion—or later, a brigade or even an entire division—to their deaths than I did a single soldier as long as I could accomplish an objective.

And to this day I cannot help but wonder—does that make me a monster? An uncaring and unfeeling pony who treated the lives of his underlings as disposable fodder? ‘Sacrificial lambs’, as gryphons sometimes use the phrase?

—Rock Biter

It makes you a commander, General. And a successful one at that.

‘Tis hard to accept, but those who think too much of their mares under arms rarely turn out to be good leaders in war. For they cannot do what is necessary to win battles, only willing to commit their troops when the odds are so far in their favor that they are completely useless otherwise.

To win without fighting might be the highest order of military skill, as the Sun Master once stated, but even for a strategic genius like my sister or Salvio Gaius, ‘tis all but impossible to accomplish most of the time.

—Firefly

Perchance you are right, Captain. But many ponies died here needlessly simply because I repeatedly failed to look at things from the perspective of our enemies, from not identifying the Hill as a likely target to failing to anticipate the presence of gryphon soldiers at the crossroads and planning appropriately. So why, then, am I considered a good commander?

—Rock Biter

Because you learned from your mistakes, General, which is far more than I can say for many on both sides of the battle lines. Because you internalized your lessons, to the great cost of the gryphons.

Could some battles have been won more quickly or cheaply? ‘Tis certain some could. I can think of many I fought or led. I can think of many mistakes I made that cost lives or even entire engagements. But hindsight is always perfect, and we do not have its advantages in the middle of battle. Nor do we have the benefit of our acquired experience at the start of the war, where it can only be gained by many a bloody and bitter lesson.

If you still do not believe me, then allow me to quote a former adversary during the long-ago campaign to end stallion slavery:

“Wisdom is nothing but healed pain.”

—Firefly

Thank you for your words of wisdom, Captain, painfully rueful though they are to hear. This action was our trial by fire, and ‘twould shortly illustrate another old saying I have heard from time to time: be careful what you wish for.

The truth of that old adage was to be revealed swiftly. As we watched in consternation whilst Gleaming Gladius led the charge of her earth ponies up the hill under the cover of her faltering unicorn formations, I still withheld my other two battalions from the battle. The Imperials seemed unaware we were here, and I wanted to keep it that way until we saw them commit their mages to the fight, when we could hopefully surprise them with a first strike that would take them out before they could react to us.

Or mayhap believing our presence remained undetected ‘twas wishful thinking, and they were just concentrating on the immediate threat before turning on us with all their force. Or worse, mayhap they did not use their mages simply because they were not needed here, keeping them in reserve until they saw us commit our remaining forces to the fight?

That the enemy has a mind and will of their own was a lesson hard-won. ‘Twas a lesson I would teach above all others during my time as Commandant at Sunset Point Army Tactical School after the war; a post I only reluctantly accepted to ensure that the mistakes I saw made—the mistakes that I made—would not be repeated, and that the hard-learned lessons of the war would take.

Unfortunately, ‘twas a lesson I would be forced to learn here when, as if on cue, there was suddenly a series of sharp flashes and thunderous booms that announced the arrival of the gryphon mages, but not over the lead battalion of Gleaming Gladius!

They were attacking us!

As a series of lightning bolts impacted my static formations, killing entire squads of ponies before our unicorns could respond with raised shields and a hail of crystal-tipped arrows to bring down those of the Magus, I realized they’d turned my intended tactic back on me!

They had spotted and then snuck up on our reserve force, unleashing a devastating first strike that was quickly followed up by two centuries of gryphon soldiers striking from both flanks, launching crossbow volleys into our ordered ranks. Their damage done, the mages shifted positions quickly to get behind their formations so they could continue to target us with lightning whilst we were busy with the Talon regulars.

“Scatter!” I called out, thinking the gryphon raider groups I used to fight would never have responded so quickly and correctly to the tactical puzzle I had faced them with. Yet again, I had underestimated my opponents, and yet again, my forces paid the price.

“Watch your spacing! Form platoon squares with unicorns at the center! Present no flank or rear!” I used one of the few standard Army tactics I found valid when faced with gryphon attacks; half the unicorns would cast one-way shields over the entire formation that allowed those inside to fire out, but not let arrows in whilst the other half would add much more accurate and better ranged longbow fire to the earth pony crossbow bolts.

“Earth ponies! Target the Talons with crossbows while the unicorns hold off the mages!” Captain Starstruck added her own instructions as she drew not her standard-issue army longbow, but her personal one.

“Belay that! Unicorns! Target the Talons!” I overruled her, directing our archers to repeat a tactic I’d seen used successfully against raider groups. ‘Twas in direct defiance of Army doctrine which held that mages should be matched against mages, but Magus lightning could only take down one or two soldiers at a time whilst a rain of crossbow bolts were the greatest threat right now.

“What?” Methinks Starstruck was certain I’d lost my mind, but ‘twas certain I didn’t have time to explain.

“You heard me! Use concussive arrows and dazzle spells against the sky griffons! Force them to ground with bow and magic where the earth ponies can kill them!” I shouted as I neither leveled my wrist-mounted crossbow nor drew my sword, as I needed my hoof and muzzle free to hold my communication gems and shout orders.

A few harried acknowledgments were received as my two reserve battalions attempted to carry out my unusual orders; a few individual longbow arrows followed shortly by several score of them lancing out into the air.

The mages were protected by their rearward positions and personal shields, but the Talons were not so fortunate as the special bolts struck among them like a thunder gem, stunning those near enough and causing their flights to falter. This in turn allowed them to either be targeted by earth pony crossbows or simply be grabbed by magical auras and yanked hard to the ground right in front of our formations, where earth ponies could instantly set upon them, killing them quickly.

With the utility of the tactic made plain, both battalions carried it out with gusto, rapidly equaling our losses. ‘Tis ironic here, methinks, that ragged and undisciplined raiders would not have been caught off guard by this tactic given they would have seen it before, but Talon regulars had not!

Worse for them, raiders would have quickly retreated from such losses, but here, Talon discipline worked against them as they were initially uncertain how to counter the unexpectedly effective tactic, which ‘twas not part of our doctrine or how they expected us to fight!

Over the next half-minute we accounted for perchance three score of Gryphon Talons in this manner as I fired my crossbow twice, standing exposed at the head of the square formations with Captain Starstruck at my side casting a shield spell over us both. ‘Tis difficult to say whether I hit anything, as I did not get a chance to check before the mages shifted their own tactics to fire on the unicorns in the center of our formations, trying to protect the Talons.

They had only limited success against mutually reinforced shields. Methinks the news was mixed at this point—on the one hoof, we were now holding the attention of at least two depleted centuries of Talon regulars and two mages, giving as good as we got even fighting out in the open as we were. We were perchance even relieving the pressure somewhat on the lead battalion, the remnants of which appeared to have made it almost all the way up the hill in the face of the Talon attacks. But their advance had come at the cost of almost all their unicorns, to judge by the faltering levels of spellcasting I saw.

On the other hoof, we could not easily reach them now, and ‘twas certain that one decimated battalion would not last long against three nearly unblooded gryphon companies, or centuries as they called them.

So as things stood, the situation was untenable and my original plan, such as ‘twas, was out the proverbial barn door. ‘Tis certain I had it driven home that night the truism that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. But its failure does not mean the battle is lost; it simply means you make a new plan quickly to adapt to changing battlefield conditions.

In this instance, changing battlefield conditions meant we made use of the situation we had. ‘Twas not my original intention that we engage the gryphons out here away from the town, but as ‘tis so often the case in warfare, plans gave way to happenstance and ‘twas up to me to take advantage of it.

“Lieutenant Gladius! Have you reached the town?” I shouted into my command gem.

“Lieutenant Gladius is dead, sir! This is Sergeant Major Tempered Steel!” answered her stallion second, who, ‘tis worth noting, was a recent transfer from Stalliongrad. He had been part of the sole heavy weapons regiment the Equestrian Army possessed at the war’s outbreak, which was where our military labs and foundries were located.

Unfortunately, and all too predictably, that also meant their siege engines and large ballistae that could do everything from fight dragons to attack forces over the horizon were left uselessly far away from the enemy where they would most likely be needed—yet one more needless and foreseeable strategic mistake that complicated our defense of Equestria against the Gryphon Empire.

“We’re in the outskirts but have lost half our force, including nearly all our unicorns and two company commanders!” he said before shouting an order I couldn’t hear. “We may make it, but we won’t have much left! If we don’t get relief soon, we’re finished!”

I heard the anger and accusing tone in his voice, and I distantly registered the death of a promising young combat officer, but ‘twas not my concern as I simply shrugged off the heavy losses and the mistakes that led to them yet again. “Then barricade yourselves in buildings or whatever cover you can! Hold out to the last pony! We’re on our way!”

I shifted communication crystals quickly, wondering how long my luck would last before I was attacked directly by the two gryphon mages. We knew from intelligence briefings that they were trained to detect the distinctive emissions of our communication gems as a means of finding and targeting commanders.

“Earth ponies! Break contact and charge the town! Unicorns! Run cover and maintain shield protection!” I commanded. “Defense only! Save your remaining arrows!”

“But what about the mages?” Starstruck asked me as she maintained a shield over the pair of us whilst we ran and notched an arrow from a second quiver; it was for her personal bow and the shafts were longer and the arrow tips larger.

“Ignore the mages for now!” I shouted as we broke into a gallop towards the base of Harness Hill. As we watched, lightning speared right through a weakened shield to strike down an earth pony mare ahead of us, forcing us to go around her broken body—yet one more casualty added to the list that ‘twas already perchance two hundred long. “There’s only two of them and methinks lightning alone won’t stop us!”

As if on cue, the mages shifted tactics, suddenly releasing great gouts of fire not into our ranks at the base of the hill, which would be of dubious benefit against running ponies who were not in tight formations, but ahead of us, blocking our path! Worse, they then fanned them with wind spells, trying to whip the burning grasses into a conflagration that would consume us quickly, forcing us to retreat behind Eerie road.

“You were saying?” Starstruck inquired acidly as our advance recoiled from the burning barrier which they continued to add more flames to, the fire now driving us back whilst the embers it released threatened to set the ground around us ablaze. “My bow can take them, sir! I can punch through their shields! I just need cover!” she shouted as they attempted to hem us completely with sheets of flame.

I didn’t reply right away, staring at the road and grassy hillside beyond it that led to the rooftop town where 2nd battalion was fighting and dying.

And then I smiled. “Unicorns! Use incendiary arrows! Set fire to the ground ahead of the road! And then target the base of the hill on the other side of the flames!”

“What?” a cacophony of shocked calls came back. “You want to add more fire?” a mare’s voice added; I know not who it was.

“Just do it!” I shouted into my gem as Starstruck likewise looked at me like I’d gone insane.

“I’m not crazy. Just watch…” I told her as a volley of arrows with glowing tips impacted both the hillside and the ground ahead of the road, setting the grasses aflame. But fanned by the magus wind, the spots of fire spread out quickly in all directions, racing most rapidly up the hillside, where it quickly consumed the tall grasses there.

But we had a firebreak in front of us in the form of Eerie Road that the Magus-fueled firestorm could perchance penetrate, but not a deliberately set backburn as earth pony farmers sometimes used to clear their fields! As the multiple fire fronts met, the main blaze was starved for fuel and quickly subsided into a few scattered and fitful flames, thus destroying the burning barrier and rendering the tactic useless.

Methinks I will admit to a moment of fierce pride at my own cleverness as the Magus trap was turned against them. The path to the town was thrown open, and thus, ‘twas only one more order left to give.

“Regiment! Charge!” I ordered my awestruck troops, who methinks were finally staring at me in real respect. And perchance ‘twas why that this time, as I gave the order, a mighty cheer was heard as the remaining four hundred or so ponies of my command surged through the gap and raced up the hill into the town.

* * * * *

It took us less than a minute to reach our goal despite the continuing Talon crossbow and Magus fire, the latter of whom had little choice but to go back to lightning strikes on our formations, picking off just one or two unlucky ponies at a time. I know not gryphon losses to that point, but ‘twas likely at least a century of their own forces, whose formations were looking far more ragged by then due to continuous combat.

“Sergeant Major! Hold your fire! We’re coming in!” I warned Tempered Steel, not getting an immediate reply. As we crested the hill, we saw structures ablaze, and that confused me—had my own tactic to burn the hillside set the town afire too?

But before I could blame myself for that—I didn’t know then that Gleaming Gladius had ordered the fires set—I realized I’d been a foal yet again. The flames were being fed further by a second pair of gryphon mages as the Talons stood back, only striking at anypony who tried to escape them whilst the mages tried to turn their sanctuaries into crematoriums.

So they had four mages assigned to them, and not just two! And thus, they now became primary targets even as they shifted to fight us, adding additional lightning bolts to the onslaught.

“Regiment! Target the mages! Use crystal-tipped arrows to penetrate their shields!” I ordered uselessly at this point as they didn’t need to be told to do that, with longbow arrows striking their shields to an eruption of sparks and slightly warped protective bubbles, which shimmered with each hit.

If Gryphon Magus Knights had any disadvantages over our unicorns, who were normally far weaker on a caster-by-caster basis, ‘twas that they could only cast one spell at a time, be it offensive or defensive, without weakening the effectiveness of the other.

Though Magus can and do cast shields around themselves and then fire lightning from within it, the need to maintain that shield puts a drain on their power, and thus means that they can only launch weaker offensive attacks from within it. Splitting their power like that weakens the shield in turn, rendering them far more vulnerable.

‘Tis the reason Magus are assigned to units in pairs, so that one can cast a full-strength shield over themselves and their partner whilst the other fires lightning bolts or other magic from inside it. They quickly took that tactic here as my forces fanned out through the town, which was littered with the bloodied bodies of dead militia ponies and civilians, as well as those Equestrian army soldiers who had reached the town but were unable to make cover.

‘Twas a gruesome site, with severed limbs and mangled flesh everywhere, and one that did turn my stomach yet again.

But I did not relent. I could not relent. We had made it this far in the face of obstinate gryphon resistance and my own innumerable mistakes. And by Celestia’s sun itself, we would not falter here!

I must now pause to gather myself. For the ponies of my party have retraced our steps to the town of Harness Hill itself. It looks far different than it did back then, and not just because it was almost entirely rebuilt after not one but two waves of war wrecked it; once during the initial invasion and yet again during the Tempest Shadow operation I spearheaded some three years later.

‘Tis larger now, with more developed roads and extensive farmlands around the base of the hill, watered by newly installed irrigation systems fed from the no-longer-dry seabeds. Instead of the near-desert conditions that prevailed before, young forests abound as pony weather control has been extended fully into former gryphon lands, slowly altering the formerly semi-arid area from grasslands to woodlands.

Upon reflection, as I see the change in the landscape—I am also told by Captain Firefly that the Delamare river canyon that marked our former border with the gryphons is now rapidly eroding from the tripled amounts of rainfall it receives—‘tis worth noting that one stated grievance of the gryphons in going to war was actually quite valid.

For ‘twas our weather control that kept rainfall from them, preventing most natural patterns from reaching them excepting those few odd storms that might come up the coast. It kept their lands arid and their farms poor, rendering their subsistence doubly difficult whilst we kept all the water for ourselves.

‘Tis a topic I have become intimately aware of in my new profession of farmer, and yet, my former soldiers will not stop calling me General or Commander. I simply do not understand the loyalty they show me for how wantonly I sacrificed their lives, to which they reply simply and to a pony:

“You saved Equestria.”

Methinks they exaggerate, for I was but one of many commanders, and certainly others like Captain Firefly or General Squall Line or even Our Princess herself could make that claim!

‘Tis because you spent our lives well, General, and we trusted you—first to do your duty, and later to win the day. Your duty was to win battles or at least avoid annihilation, whilst ours was to fight and die in pursuit of those goals, and few were the commanders—especially at first—who ensured our sacrifices were not in vain.

—Major General Tempered Steel (ret.)

Thank you, old comrade. Yes, Tempered Steel would be one of the very few to make it all the way through the war with me. In time, he would be instrumental in incorporating heavy weapons into my future corps when we switched from defensive to offensive warfare, commanding an entire division by war’s end.

But that story lies far in the future, and ‘twould never come to be without survival here, in the burning town of Harness Hill.

Methinks there is another old saying—yes, I know I’m full of them; something my foals and grandfoals tease me about endlessly—regarding the dog who chases a wagon and then doesn’t know what to do when she catches it.

Only now, we were the dog, and the wagon we had caught was Harness Hill, entering the town only to find that getting there was not even half the battle won. Just how were we to eject the gryphons from the town when there were now no less than four mages overhead raining death down upon us along with a damaged cohort of Talons?

Were I to guess looking backwards now, I would say that our numbers were roughly even at that point. They had begun with a reinforced cohort—roughly six centuries—in defense of the town backed by two Magus teams, whilst we went into the attack with three battalions comprised of nine understrength companies, each consisting of one unicorn platoon and two earth pony, mustering between eighty and ninety effectives each.

We were now at roughly 2/3rds strength after the bombardment we’d sustained getting there. The losses were very uneven, however. 2nd battalion had lost almost all their unicorns, leaving them at well under half strength—a lethal proposition against gryphon mages who switched their attacks from fire back to lightning. ‘Twas an attempt to pepper us with shrapnel from the powerful bolts that blasted apart wood and brick, turning the debris into potentially lethal missiles.

But the gryphons had sustained heavy losses too; methinks they’d lost mayhap a century of soldiers fighting us in the open. Unfortunately, they’d likely only suffered half that in fighting 2nd battalion, who I had ordered to reach the town instead of attacking the Talons directly. Against all odds and my own impossible orders, they’d been able to ascend the hill to grab a hoofhold in the town whilst the rest of us had been able to fight our way to them; the bulk of the other two battalions battered but still battleworthy.

This gave us nearly even numbers, but the gryphons were far more organized at that point and Magus-backed; our standard longbow arrows were not penetrating their shields…

Until I suddenly saw a sharp flash and a Magus shield go down, followed by one of the two lightning-casting Magus slain with an arrow through her cloth-covered chest. ‘Twas the second weakness of gryphon Magus early in the war—their armor was designed to deflect magical attacks and not physical ones; they had few defenses once you penetrated their shields and could fall easily to simple blades and bolts.

I wasn’t sure what happened at first, but then the flash resolved into Captain Starstruck, who had teleported herself high into the air and fired into the shield bubble from above with her personal longbow, penetrating it at close range with one of her equally custom and quite heavy crystal-tipped arrows. She then followed up quickly with the second strike from a simple piercing bolt that slew the targeted Magus; teleporting back to the ground before her partner could react.

“Brilliant, Starstruck! Can you do that again?” I called to her, only to receive a groan in reply.

“No…” she said in audible pain. “Can’t teleport again… horn cracked... the backlash got me…”

By ‘backlash’, she referred to the at-times explosive magical release that came from a disrupted spell or aura. It tended to find focus in nearby staves or unicorn horns and overload them, causing them to crack, rendering casting painfully difficult to agonizingly impossible depending on the severity of the wound.

But the same effect had neutralized the second Magus as well, as he attempted to cast a fresh lightning spell on her in rage only for his damaged staff to shatter in his grasp, rendering him defenseless and forcing him to flee the hill.

He got away, but as he was neutralized, it mattered not. “Two mages down… I’m putting you in for the Archer Agate for that, Captain!” I promised her as I fired my crossbow, and this time, hit a Talon directly in the neck—’twas a lucky shot as I was aiming for her chest—sending her dead to the ground.

“You can pin the medal on me later… after we win this fight!” she reminded me, struggling to stand and levitate her longbow. She switched from her personal bow to her standard one, which required less magic to use. “There are still two mages left!” She notched another arrow with some difficulty.

“Right…” Whilst I reloaded my crossbow, contemplating what to do as our forces fought the Talons behind whatever cover was available—methinks ‘twas a very confused battle at that point with units on both sides intermingling, fighting it out in the burning ruins of the town—I realized with a sinking heart that as things stood, we weren’t going to win this; not even with the loss of two mages to the gryphons.

‘Twas simply no way around it as I saw my faltering forces. Our numbers were being ground down faster than theirs, and they had all but enveloped us at this point, ringing us and hemming us in from the ground and air. They were aware of our earlier tactics now, meaning they were keeping their distance and simply bombarding us from afar; we couldn’t force them to ground where the advantage was ours any longer.

I was out of tricks, and having adapted to our earlier tactic, they would soon reduce us to nothing. ‘Twas a mathematical equation, and even if we somehow emerged victorious by the grace of The Mare in the Moon herself, we wouldn’t have enough left to hold the hill against a second strike. Especially not one likely carried out by earth gryphons.

Such thoughts of defeat and doom were gripping me when suddenly the two remaining mages were struck from behind by a barrage of arrows and magical beams from teleporting unicorns, collapsing their shields and rendering them vulnerable to a volley of spears and crossbow bolts that followed from ground level.

They fell instantly to the unexpected attack, causing the Talons to whip their heads around in confusion just before a second orchestrated volley of longbow arrows from a full-strength army battalion struck them, killing thirty almost instantly. ‘Twas quickly followed up with a series of fresh flares launched over the city, blindingly bright to look at and causing the remaining Talons to look away in pain, resulting in a score or more falling to subsequent arrow strikes.

Once again, I had to wait for my eyes to clear before I could discern what happened. This time, I beheld unicorns hovering high in the air not on the strength of their own auras but held aloft by those casting levitation spells from below, enabling them to use all their power directly on the attack instead of having to spend it on very draining spells like teleportation or self-levitation.

‘Twas a direct imitation of the gryphon tactic, methinks, with one set of unicorns covering and protecting the other, and ‘tis certain it worked superbly here. The fresh battalion took down the remaining mages and an entire century of airborne gryphons in short order, turning the battle instantly and decisively in our favor.

‘Twas also an opportunity I couldn’t let slip. “All forces! Attack! Drive them from the town!” I ordered, and recognizing the opportunity, my four hundred remaining effectives instantly obeyed.

The odds having turned suddenly against them; their mages slain and position untenable given they were now exhausted and badly outnumbered by the appearance of fresh Equestrian Army troops entering the town from the west, the gryphons could read the writing on the wall as well as I could just a minute earlier. And thus, their surviving Centurions gave the order to retreat.

Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 4th, 1139 AC
1105 hours

The battle for Harness Hill was over.

The remaining sky gryphon Talons had taken flight and fled through the air, leaving somewhat over a third of their fallen brethren behind; to my later shame, I did not immediately stop the surviving townsponies from avenging the slaughter of militia troops and civilians they witnessed as they fell upon the wounded, hacking them to pieces. Never mind the inharmonious act of it; we needed prisoners to tell us their plans. But then again, ‘twould seem they were obvious at that point anyway.

As we secured the town, I ordered my remaining soldiers to extinguish the fires and dig in deep, dispatching my surviving unicorn archers to upper floor balconies and rooftops with earth pony squads in support.

I fully expected the next attack to include earth griffons, so I further ordered all intact buildings be occupied and protected with anti-fire enchantments; made into bunkers so we could turn the streets and alleyways of the town into the same killing zones the Lucavi had done in Altair twelve years earlier.

Nevertheless, Harness Hill was ours again, but ‘tis certain the battle would not have been won without the surprise attack of a battalion belonging to another army regiment from the west. They had slain the mages and split the Imperial defense of the hilltop town at just the right moment to save our faltering effort, and I took great pains to express our gratitude to the commander of the rescue force, who I met in the town square where the gryphon headquarters had been.

“Colonel Rock Biter, 3rd brigade, 2nd regiment,” I introduced myself as I was saluted by a mare at least fifteen years my junior. She bore the golden oak leaf insignia of a Major and a short gash on her chest where a sword had partially penetrated her armor.

“Major Sunstone, operations officer, 1st brigade, 3rd regiment,” she replied as I returned the honor. “’Twould seem you had the same idea we did, Colonel. Our forces were stationed in the town of Yoke, further down the road. We repulsed an airborne attack at cost, but then we learned from fleeing civilians that the Gryphons had taken Harness Hill.

“Once we received reinforcements from Melody, we advanced from the west. We could only spare a battalion for the effort to oust them whilst still holding Yoke, which was too weak to do so alone. But when you attacked, we saw our chance. We snuck close and waited for them to fully commit against you before going in, hitting them from the blindside.”

“‘Twas excellent thinking on your part, Major,” I told her in great gratitude. “Your tactics were superb and timing was perfect. We would not be here now without you.”

“You are welcome sir. But ‘twas not without cost. A fifth of my ponies are down and our regimental commander, Colonel Bricklayer, died defending Melody from a surprise Talon strike.” She bowed her head as our combined healer teams began setting up a makeshift triage and medical tent. “Lieutenant Colonel Peach Preserves is now in command of our regiment. She ordered us to move east and retake the hill.”

“For which I will thank her later,” I said, knowing even then I’d likely lost at least three hundred fifty of my regiment in retaking the town in exchange for an equal number of Talons—if we were lucky. “For now, we need to secure not just the town but the entire road junction before the gryphons strike again.”

“Sir—orders?” Major Wheat Thresher prompted; I’d stationed him with 3rd battalion to make sure we both couldn’t be taken out at once. “Before we do anything else, methinks we should inform 1st Corps command that Harness Hill is retaken.”

“Agreed. Dispatch message runners back up towards Maresk. Inform all forces they encounter that the line of retreat is open, and regardless of Major General Breech Lock’s orders, to take it quickly!” I directed my second, who immediately wrote out a missive and called to nearby unicorn soldiers, asking if any of them had sufficient power left to teleport the distance.

“I’m not sure they can, sir,” Captain Halberd told me in sadness and resignation, staring out to the east from our hilltop perch. “‘Twould seem the gryphon trap is sprung.”

“What do you…?” I trailed off as I followed his gaze and my heart sank at the scene before me.

For at that moment, ‘twould seem all our efforts were for naught. The battle lines ringing Maresk were clearly outlined, lit up with both physical and magical fires as the main Imperial assault went in. The sounds of distant battle even carried upon the wind, and ‘twas clear that they were already trying to pinch off the escape route we had so painfully pried open.

“By the sun…” I murmured, wondering if escape was even possible for the bulk of the 1st Corps now; I didn’t even have enough emotion left after the battle to mentally curse out Major General Breech Lock for allowing the inevitable to happen.

“Do we stay now, sir?” My subdued second asked.

“We do,” I told him after a short pause and prayer. “We will stay here holding the door open until the Corps crumbles completely, in hopes that some regiments or even a brigade or two may yet make it out. For even if the Imperial pincers close and the Corps is lost, then every earth pony and unicorn soldier who slips free to join us ‘tis one that can yet be added to Equestria’s defense…”

As I finish writing this from near that same far more peaceful hilltop, sitting on a bench in the town square that faces a memorial of the battle etched with a list of the dead, I find myself crying. I never mourned our losses; I never had the chance as we simply went from one action to another over the next several days and weeks without rest.

‘Tis at least a pain I can share with my old comrades as we raise a toast in the honor of those who fell, at the Harness Inn & Pub where the mare named Sweet Switchel once worked.

Sadly, the news there is not good. She is dead, I am told by her family that still runs the Inn. She stayed at our old encampment as the gryphons closed in, refusing to leave the side of her wounded friends who could not be moved whilst telling the rest to flee once she learned the retreat route was reopened.

Based on our brief meeting and seeing that she pulled many ponies to safety despite her wounds, ‘tis certain it sounds like something she would have done. Her end is not known, but her namesake signature recipe survives. ‘Twas served to us in their pub at no cost by her youngest sister, who she ordered to flee and dimly recalled seeing me when they entered our camp.

‘Twas a very potent and invigorating brew; one that quickly restored our strength after the march and emotionally draining visit. To have something of her, I asked if I could take the recipe back with me to my farm at Stalliongrad, as ‘twould serve us well during the difficult days of sowing and harvest. Her sister gave it to me with the admonition that I not sell it or spread it, as ‘tis their trade secret and the source of many of their sales.

She need not worry, for I would never betray the memory of such a brave and loving pony. But every time I drink it now, I will think of her, and the selfless sacrifice of far too many soldiers and civilians during the battles for Harness Hill and Maresk.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter

“To be a good soldier, you must love the army. To be a good commander, you must be willing to order the death of the thing you love.” —General Robert E. Lee

Author's Note

Well, folks... I spent pretty much my entire 4th of July doing these graphics, which were NOT easy to make. So please forgive me for being a little lazy on the music in trying to get this chapter out as scheduled—and promised.

This has been a bit of an ordeal, but it seems to have come together pretty nicely in the end. Hope you enjoyed the story’s first Equestrian Army battle, and apologies if some of you were hoping for Sweet Switchel to have lived. But quite simply, being true to her character meant she sacrificed herself.

Same for the death of a barely-introduced but promising combat commander like First Lieutenant Gleaming Gladius, but that’s to drive the point home that there’s no real plot armor here, and Rock Biter didn’t start out as the great general he became. He made a slew of mistakes along the way, especially early on, that cost lives and battles. :ajsleepy:

Thanks as always go to Silentwoodfire, AJ_Aficionado, and Silverblade5 for prereads and comments on the initial draft. Nothing left to say at this point except... Welcome back to Firefly, and for my American readers, hope you had a Happy 4th of July! 🎇

Second Offensive: 6 - Difficult Diplomacy

Dear readers—

‘Tis been a week since I last heard from Gavian, and I admit, I am starting to worry. I did receive a slightly cryptic message from Ambassador Kaval saying my son might be out of contact for a bit for reasons he was unable to disclose, and not to fret. But as his mother, ‘tis simply impossible for me not to. Nor have I received any letters from Firehawk, though ‘twas hardly unexpected—her circuitous journey to the shores of the Ebon Ocean does not allow for easy correspondence.

I know not the route she took, which was deliberate; as this is a private expedition that has no Kingdom sponsorship, they cannot travel by way of Kingdom lands. I know she can take care of herself, having seen action in the Corps fighting the fragmented remains of the Diabla dragon clan and Harpie pirate skiffs. And yet, it matters little to a mother’s worry—‘tis simply very difficult for me to not know what is happening.

But as Fell Flight reminds me, seemingly once again serving as my second and closest advisor, there is nothing I can do, and thus ‘tis pointless to dwell on my fears. She is right as always, so I shall turn my attention back to General Rock Biter’s visit to his old battlefields.

‘Tis getting close to December and the coming of winter now, especially further poleward as we are, with cold breezes out of the frozen north whipping up lines of clouds off the newly formed—or perchance I should say, restored—Heron Sea.

As ‘tis more trouble for pegasi to dissipate these squalls than ‘tis typically worth, they are oft ignored and allowed to deposit their rain or even snow this late in the season. Whilst the pegasi would normally trigger a storm, causing the clouds to drop the entirety of their loads at once, in this instance, it would lead to destructive flash flooding and mudslides as the restored sea continues to slowly fill.

The leaves are off the cherry, peach and apple trees around the base of Harness Hill now, thanks to the Running of the Leaves ceremony we were privileged to not just witness, but take part in. ‘Tis an earth pony tradition both unicorns and pegasi can join in, able to use magic or the wind from our wings to knock the leaves free just as earth ponies can by simply pounding their hooves against the ground.

Twas fun, even if Fell Flight and Oberen got a little too competitive, alternately trying to outrace or outwit each other by means both fair and foul.

Even the General, after some urging and cider, took part in it, though he initially demurred, saying ‘twas something they let the younger ponies back home do as a matter of fun but a ritual he never participated in himself. Though slightly awkward for him at first, he did crack a grin, and even participated in some of the games the town played during the yearly festival. Being around him now and listening to him reminisce, there are times I wonder if he never learned how to enjoy himself.

Nevertheless, I am here for him, letting my sister take over teaching my classes at the Equestrian Officer Academy in Canterlot for the end of the fall session. ‘Tis something she would only do at my direct request, though it helps that it also allows her to stay close to father.

For those curious, he continues to slowly improve and has now gained around half the muscle mobility needed for flight—after nearly four months of intensive therapy and some surprising aid from the Changelings, who departed Canterlot weeks ago. He still follows these works, of course, and wishes to meet General Rock Biter himself, but he is still too frail to travel far.

Speaking of the Changelings, I bear some intriguing news of them, but I have agreed not to talk about it until their trail goes cold.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Oh, Admiral Tailwind wishes to see me? Then perchance I will make it a point to come to Canterlot and visit him.

Greetings, readers. ‘Tis Rock Biter speaking again, and there is little I would add to the Captain’s account except to say that for one of a very few times, I find myself outwitted by a rival commander.

We were at the Inn where me and my former comrades were staying, eating dinner and reminiscing over several mugs of cider. I admit I was feeling somewhat forlorn after the festival, as my aversion to having fun and enjoying life remains.

I posed the question—was I really a good commander? Had I truly learned anything along the way, given the butcher bill I eventually racked up? Or did I simply bludgeon my way to victory and win by throwing lives and bodies at the gryphons in hopes they would run out of them before we did?

In response, Captain Firefly told me in perfect earnestness that she saw no issues with anything I had done at Harness Hill, and nothing that could be improved.

Despite the alcohol in my system, I openly scoffed. I began to recite my litany of errors, from failure to recommend reinforcing the hill with more than a militia company to not scouting the crossroads, to attacking piecemeal in hopes I could ambush their magus.

And once I was finished with that, I outlined everything I should have done. The crossroads should have been scouted with Pathfinder squads, followed by unicorns disabling the trip gems and any anti-intrusion enchantments. They then should have laid a magical shroud over the area as we eliminated the forward force by teleporting in earth ponies and unicorns to slay the sentries with blade and bow whilst they were still digging in. Done properly, they would not even be able to draw their scimitars before they died.

Surprise retained, I would then not have bothered with an echelon attack and simply stormed the hill in column order, diverting the mages and their main body by making a show of attack with a single platoon off to one side, firing flares and arrows whilst the main attack went in from the blindside.

Their force split by the deception, we would have crested the hill and reached the town almost before they knew we were there. Our initial volleys would have slain the airborne sky griffons and forced the rest to ground where our earth ponies would have made short work of them. In the end, ‘twas certain that a more experienced unit and commander could have cleared the hill quickly and cheaply, losing but a score of troops when our casualties were in the hundreds before...

‘Twas then I realized she was giving me a knowing grin and nodding, and ‘twas only at that moment I realized what she’d just done—tricked me into answering my own question. I had instantly solved the tactical problem of that day with all the hard-learned experience and acumen I had gained over the course of the conflict.

Experience and acumen which ‘tis certain I did not have at the start of the war.

In relating this tale, I am reminded that warfare is as much psychological as physical, and the Captain showed here why she remains a master of it. But at this moment, I find myself not inclined to write, instead simply wishing to walk out under the stars and pitch a tent in the town square to mimic my first wartime stay there.

My old soldiers are more than willing to join me, and thus, I finish writing this around a campfire flame in the ceremonial firepit in front of the town memorial, whilst we sing a song.

‘Tis a great melancholy I feel now, and yet, ‘tis not over our losses, but for how long I failed to face my fears after the war, shunning my soldier kindred. Methinks I will surrender the pen for now, as our next clash with Imperial forces would not come until morning. And odd as it sounds, I would rather it be dawn again as it was then to relate it.

My old comrades will sound reveille, at which point we will eat a soldier’s breakfast of dry grass, a few plucked wild onions and a small ration of molasses washed down with some weak tea. In the meantime, I believe ‘tis time for Captain Firefly to relate a story from her side of Equestria. If nothing else, methinks she will appreciate the distraction.

—Rock Biter

Thank you, General. And with apologies, I know you do not like being addressed by your old rank, but I simply cannot call you by a familiar term. Even now, you are still my superior, and ‘tis no lie to say that your role in the conflict dwarfed mine.

The Bolt Knights were a symbol, as was I as their leader. But we could not win the war from the air no matter how many enemy soldiers we slew. Ultimately, only you and the Equestrian Army could do so from the ground.

But with a quarter—and soon to be over a third—of that Army lost in the first few days of the conflict as the border defenses were crushed and the entire 1st Corps at Maresk stood enveloped and in danger of annihilation, we needed allies and additional soldiers. ‘Twas thus from the fourth pony tribe that Captain Typhoon, acting on the authority of Princess Celestia, sought them.

I am not privy to those negotiations, though they were faithfully recorded by his adjutant, Total Recall, and passed to the Princess later. Though I could simply include her minutes of the meeting here, ‘twould make for very dry reading and not have the same effect as seeing things from the Nightborne point of view.

Nor would it be fair to deny our much-maligned Nightborne friends the chance to make their side of the story plain, given the vital role they were yet to play. Welcome back to the story, Viceroy, and as the time of Thestralslovakia’s entry into the war approaches, ‘tis certain you will be heard from considerably more oft going forward.

—Firefly

Thank you, Captain. And greetings to all from the Nightborne nation once more.

‘Tis Viceroy Europa Universalis IV speaking again. And know I have followed this ongoing work with great interest since the first entry I wrote, a full year ago. For what ‘tis worth, I wish I had been in Canterlot to meet Queen Scylla Lepidoptes, for ‘tis rare to find a race who knows stealth even better than we.

But ‘twas decided that ‘twould be best to stay away for now, rather than present an uneasy Canterlot with not one but two state visits belonging to races whose motives remain suspect, even now.

We are used to it, but perchance I hoped that our wartime alliance and the role we played would win us more favor than it has. ‘Tis true that the Canterlot thestral enclave is well established by now, and we have even received Princess Celestia yearly, who has withdrawn all Equestrian military units and takes pains to visit her sister’s shrine every time she comes.

I have seen for myself her grief and the tears she cries over our beloved regent, the lost Princess Luna, renewing her oath yearly to yet see her restored.

She herself has told us that acceptance will be a gradual process, and ‘tis true, as she reminds us, that great strides have been made in that direction. And yet… we want more. More acceptance, more trade, more visits. We have much to offer the pony nation and world, from our wines to our weapons to our irrigation and food preservation techniques.

And there is much we need in return, from improved crop yields to the ores, crystals, and other raw materials that ‘tis difficult for us to mine, unsuited as our bodies are for the task or simply due to the fact that we are resource-pour and certain magical minerals are simply not present within our borders.

In picking back up the quill to describe our coming entry into the war, I would ask all reading to recall the severe pressure we were under from both sides in the early days of the conflict, and the difficult juggling act we were forced to perform. On the one wing was the Sovereignty Settlement with Princess Celestia, which we had signed three centuries prior that required us to act in Equestria’s defense.

On the other was an Imperial offer of alliance and a guarantee of postwar independence; seemingly all our greatest geopolitical wishes served up on a platter. ‘Twas an offer backed by at least three legions of Talons poised on our eastern borders with more arriving; we were not blind to the fact that one of the aims of their second offensive seemed to be slowly surrounding us.

And that was to say nothing of the uncertain intentions of the Highborne to our west, whose standing forces were less than half ours but had ample reason to hate us. But I cannot speak for them. Only for the Nightborne side as Captain Typhoon arrived from Cloudsdale in the presence of a single aide and two Celestial Guardsponies, as well as Commander Tailwind of the Loyalty.

—Europa Universalis IV
Viceroy of the Lunar Council
Hollow Shades
Thestralslovakia

Word of Captain Typhoon’s appearance at Cloudsdale and coming visit to Hollow Shades had been received by the Lunar Council with no little consternation.

‘Twas but the latest in what seemed a long litany of unwelcome news, not the least of which ‘twas that the aim of the latest Imperial operation appeared to be one of gradual encirclement as a possible prelude to outright invasion. But equally upsetting was word that our most senior and trusted division commander, Major General Muscadine, had been slain by one of his immediate subordinates.

She had done so for his openly subverting the will of the Lunar Council, attempting to provoke conflict by denying the sky city ordered aid.

We knew not at that point all he had done or how grave his betrayal was, but the ongoing investigation of his actions and search for possible collaborators amongst his staff was put aside in the face of far more immediate concerns. For ‘twas nearly time to receive the Captain of Celestia’s Royal Guard, and what ‘twas certain to be less a request than outright order that we go to war on Equestria’s behalf.

Even as Captain Typhoon was en route to Hollow Shades from Cloudsdale, the Councilbats were still heatedly debating what our response to his expected demands would be. The endless arguments caused my wingfingers to cramp as I continually took the minutes of the meeting, forcing me to fall back on using my hoof or muzzle more than once.

Methinks the battle lines of the debate had been sharply drawn on the first night of the war and had not budged since, with three equally intractable factions presenting themselves.

Minister of State Small Talk backed by Viceroy Chardonnay advocated siding with Equestria whilst Minister of Agriculture Lord Shiraz and Councilor Corvis of the Everfree territory wanted to ally with the Imperials, in exchange for offers of independence and territorial guarantees.

Then there was General Starry Skies, who believed the Nightborne Army was strong enough to enforce our neutrality and defend our borders from either side. His overconfidence led the remaining third of the Lunar Council to believe—foalishly, in my unspoken opinion, even then—‘twas possible to stay out of the conflict entirely regardless of any prior agreements or diplomatic pressure applied.

As any course of action away from our presently peaceful posture—from simply signing a treaty to an outright declaration of war—would require two-thirds of the Councilbats to vote aye, the result of the three-way split was political paralysis within the Lunar Council, with continued neutrality as the default result.

At that point, ‘tis worth reminding readers, I held not my current lofty station but a far more humble one; I was but a lowly junior aide to the Viceroy. In truth, methinks I was little more than a glorified gofer—a term I would later learn from the ponies. ‘Twas my duty to take the transcripts of meetings, pass messages or retrieve desired documentation; ‘twas not my place to speak up in an arena where only elected or appointed leaders had a say.

But strong and increasingly strident opinions on the matter I had, especially as I listened to debates over dire decisions repeatedly boil down to a simple clash of egos. I couldn’t help but note that as the fifth day of war approached, we had reached consensus on nothing but agreeing to shelter and aid Cloudsdale.

And even that had been less out of compassion for their plight than in hopes of keeping them there long enough to attain some military and diplomatic advantage over the Empire and Equestria, regardless of whatever decision was reached.

Yes, Captain Shady’s guess that we were trying to gain leverage with the two sides in the earlier volume was correct when she confronted Colonel Aegir Ale on the foredeck of her ship. We needed bargaining chips, and though we did not know of the Loyalty’s approach given that fact was hidden from us by Major General Muscadine, an airship would be but another prize we could trade for a pact or peace.

‘Tis no way to say what the Lunar Council would have decided had the news of the Loyalty’s arrival reached them. But I suspect that had they known, Colonel Ale and the entire 3rd division would have been instructed not to board them, but instead to let them arrive at Cloudsdale but then not let them leave.

For the sky city was our biggest bargaining chip just then, to use the cardplaying term, and with some deft diplomacy, perchance both it and the Loyalty could be traded for neutrality. Or even outright independence.

But deft diplomacy was not something that seemed possible to me just then as I listened to the debate degenerate into displays of jingoism and demands to duel. The Council was deadlocked, and I admit to feeling both dread and hope that Captain Typhoon might be the one to break the stalemate in either direction.

I was neither an appointed nor elected official. I took orders; I did not give them. And yet, methinks I sensed even then that neutrality was impossible regardless of the wishful thinking of the General and others—that the conflict would come for us whether we wanted it or not. And as a trumpet sounded to announce the arrival of Captain Typhoon in the Council’s chambers for what promised to be some unwelcome orders to aid Equestria, I wondered what the next few hours would bring.

Council Convened
Europa Universalis IV - Original Soundtrack/OST - Main Track

Lunar Council Chambers
Hollow Shades
Thestralslovakia
September 5th, 1139 AL [Anno Lunae]
0130 Hours

“Welcome to the sacred hall of the Lunar Council, Captain Typhoon,” Viceroy Chardonnay announced as he was presented to the chamber, accompanied by a single unicorn aide, Royal Navy officer and two gold-armored Celestial Guardponies that already looked to have seen action in the conflict. “‘Twas from here that the Lunar Republic of our great and illustrious Princess Luna was born.”

Captain Typhoon did not react to the unsubtle reminder that we considered ourselves apart from the ponies, and neither did the two Guardsponies or single Naval commander flanking him.

One of the former was a pegasus, with his right eye covered in black cloth beneath his cloven helmet—from the ugly damage to his helm, it looked like he had taken an axe to the head; I didn’t want to think about what he looked like underneath—and also had a healing wound on his side from what might have been a thrown spear. The other was an earth pony bearing battered armor that had been clearly penetrated by crossbow bolts in at least two points, and whose chest plate appeared to have been hastily patched and hammered out.

That they had come armed, with the former wearing sheathed wingblades and the latter equipped with a crossbow, a spear on his back and a sword strapped to his side in a place where no weapons were supposed to be was not received well; the expressions of the Councilbats ranged from disdain to worry to outright hate depending on where you looked.

Then again, we were putting on our own display of military might. The chambers were lined with fully-armed sentries, and we had made the Captain and his escorts walk from his docked transport into the Hall between two entire battalions of battle-ready Nightborne soldiers; their protective goggles removed so their eyes would glow red under the crimson light of our regent’s sacred moon.

‘Twas meant to be an intimidating display for any outsider—a reminder that the Nightborne nation remained unbowed and battle-ready three centuries after the War of the Celestial Sisters; still very much steeped in our soldier traditions. But the Captain and his flanking Celestial Guard sentries barely batted an eye as they passed between the ordered ranks, though his aide—a young unicorn mare who looked barely into adulthood—appeared discomfited.

Also present was a third, older stallion swathed in Royal Navy finery. He was introduced as Commander Tailwind, first officer of the EAS Loyalty. Perchance he was there to remind us that the old service branch of Princess Luna remained...?

I knew not just then. Nevertheless, the Viceroy tried to be gracious as the Councilbats stood at their desks whilst Typhoon and his entire entourage entered; to his credit, the leader of the Lunar Council hid his true feelings on the visit well and I could not discern anything from his tone or visage.

“Before we begin, Captain Typhoon, word has reached us from Brigadier General Blackhawk of your desire for some slow-cooked flying boar. We have already started its preparation. ‘Twill be ready before daybreak, so we will be more than happy to serve you such a meal, upon the successful conclusion of our negotiations here,” he offered in greeting whilst the mood around the Council was far less amicable.

“I thank the Council for their hospitality,” the Captain offered with a respectful nod in a surprisingly deep voice. He certainly had a powerful presence between his large form and hurricane cutie mark; we had heard that his control of the wind was so strong that he could turn the air around him into a tempest with nary a thought or gesture. “But I regret that I am not here to eat.”

To Serve the Sun
Europa Universalis IV - Original Soundtrack/OST - Battle of Breitenfeld

“True. You are here to drag us into Celestia’s war,” Councilor Corvis spoke up. He had never been one to stay silent or observe diplomatic niceties, and ‘twas certain he had the least patience of the entire Lunar Council for ponies. “A war we want no part of.”

“Speak for yourself,” Small Talk replied through narrowed eyes, then switched to Romareian so the Captain would not understand her. “And hard though I know it is for an ill-bred farmwing like you, mind your manners in the presence of our honored guest.”

Her words elicited a hiss. “‘Tis quite all right. I did not expect a warm welcome, Madam Minister,” Typhoon startled us by replying casually in the same tongue. “For I know well that what I have to say ‘tis likely to be ill-received.” His remarks might have met with more angry words as he stepped forward to the center of the chamber under the red-hued moonbeam that came through the skylight, but his mere presence was so commanding that none spoke.

“Listen and take heed, bats of the Lunar Council: I have neither the time nor the patience for diplomatic niceties, so let us speak openly and directly on the matter at wing. I am here at the direction of My Princess to remind you of your obligations to the pony nation—obligations that render your declaration of neutrality both untenable and unacceptable.” He paused before proceeding, letting the grumbling die down.

“Equestria stands invaded by a mighty foe. A foe that has already shown an appalling willingness to slay civilians or worse, use them in their operations. A foe that respects neither borders nor prior agreements. A foe that will not stop with us. And a foe that we are well aware has solicited your aid!”

He silenced the eruption of angry noises with a sudden outward blast of wind he created simply by raising his wings. His storm scattered pieces of parchment and caused faces to flinch away; at a whispered order from the leader of the Capital regiment, the troops in the chamber donned their goggles to hide their eyes and protect them from another gale.

When the breeze had settled, his slightly-nervous-looking unicorn aide brought out a sheath of documents and, at the Captain’s order, began magically passing them out to the various desks. ‘Twas a breach of protocol as that normally would fall to me or another orderly to do, but nobat said anything more.

“These are EIS communications intercepts,” he told us. “They show the messages that have been passed to you. I assume that at least some of you will be able to confirm their validity. In short, we know that the gryphons have offered you vengeance and independence if you wouldst but side with them,” he informed us ominously.

“To this point, you have resisted this offer, which ‘tis fortunate. Needless to say, the Princess—to say nothing of all Equestria—would take a very dim view of such an arrangement. ‘Twould not only be a gross betrayal of the nation that shelters and aids you, but be a direct violation of the Sovereignty Settlement you signed in the year 803 of the Celestial Diarchy.”

“That treaty was signed under duress!” Lord Shiraz recovered his nerve first. “After the loss of our beloved leader, and at the point of a pony blade!” he declared to a series of wingclaps and angry shouts of agreement.

“Be that as it may, the terms of that agreement following the defeat of the Lunar Rebellion were quite generous, allowing you to keep your lands and even a measure of autonomy despite your uprising against the Solar crown,” the Captain replied evenly, impressing me that he did not raise his voice or respond in angry tones. Indeed, his cool temper and ability to keep his voice level reminded me of Small Talk at her best, but unlike her, he could add a genuinely intimidating aura to his words.

An aura that he then demonstrated by lowering his head and causing the breeze in the room to pick up again. “Terms and lands that will be summarily withdrawn should you fail to adhere to your oaths.”

“We swore no oath to Celestia,” responded General Starry Skies, who rose to enter the floor of the chamber, daring to approach Typhoon himself. “Our loyalty, Captain Typhoon, is not to your precious Princess. ‘Tis only to our regent, who your Princess took from us without remorse or mercy! Our only loyalty is to the very Mare in the Moon!”

More wingclaps were heard as well as hooves thumping repeatedly on tables.

“‘Tis not true that Celestia shows no remorse over her lost sister,” Small Talk spoke up for the second time. “I have seen her speak of Luna in reverent tones. I have seen the sorrow in her eyes. She truly misses her and deeply regrets her actions both before and during the war, blaming herself for Luna’s fall into the thrall of The Nightmare.”

Captain Typhoon gave her a surprised and grateful nod, though any goodwill the remark might have garnered was quickly crushed by the next voice to speak. “So she cries rockadile tears in public whilst she secretly revels in her sister’s capture, raising her face to mock us nightly,” Minister Shiraz all but sneered. “She should be trapped there, not our beloved regent!”

“Enough!” Captain Typhoon shouted, raising his voice for the first time against the fresh eruption of concurring wingclaps. “I did not come here to listen to you slander My Princess! Nor did I come here, hat in hoof, to request your aid,” he told us all.

“I am here on behalf of My Princess to order it! The terms of the Sovereignty Settlement are clear, and the only negotiations I will engage in are for just how your military will be used, and how ‘tis to be integrated with that of Equestria for the duration of the conflict!”

“What?” Starry Skies flared his large wings in ire; methinks he was ready to challenge the Captain to a duel on the spot.

The Captain, however, was unimpressed by the display. “You heard me, General. Your mobilized army has four well-trained divisions available for immediate action, and ‘tis believed you can raise at least two more.”

The General looked on the verge of saying something boastful, only to snap his muzzle shut at the realization that anything he might state would give away more than he wished of our numbers or capabilities.

I could tell his reaction was not lost on the clever Captain, who smiled slyly; methinks I was quickly coming to realize he had not gained his post through nepotism or political connections in Celestia’s court.

“Three more, then. We are also aware that you have cobbled together a single naval squadron centered on a small frigate with three escorts, even equipping them with some light ballistae from your meager stocks of metal. And from what I have seen, your crossbows are far more advanced than ours as well—reloadable, even in the air,” he mused, mostly to himself.

“‘Tis truly an impressive feat, the quality of soldiers and equipment you have been able to raise even with limited resources. Soldiers and equipment that Equestria needs immediately. Your entry in the war would instantly make good our losses, forcing the gryphons into a far more difficult fight that would overtax their advance in multiple sectors and help us slowly bleed their forces dry.”

“And ours!” Starry Skies pointed out. “You wouldst use us as a shield for all Equestria, spending their strength on our Army! We would be left with no means of defense after, at which point you could take our lands easily!”

The Captain gave a derisive snort. “The Princess could have taken your lands any time in the past three hundred years, General. But she has not,” he reminded us all. “She has faithfully followed the terms of the Sovereignty Settlement, and left you to your own affairs as much as possible. And all she has asked in return for your land and water supply are yearly taxes and to keep watch over the Everfree. Methinks these terms are hardly onerous!”

“Then perchance you wouldst wish to live under the rule of a hated enemy, with limited resources and no real authority! Dependent on their whims whilst they leave you a few fetid lakes and limited lands to fight with a rival tribe over,” Shiraz stated sullenly.

That you and the so-called Highborne do not get along is neither our fault nor concern,” Typhoon replied blandly. “My only concern at this moment is overseeing your entry into the war, and explaining what we need from you.”

The Captain then turned to his unicorn aide and spoke a quick aside in Equish. At his direction, she closed her eyes and projected an image into the air; it showed a map of eastern Equestria, including Thestralslovakia’s borders. The Captain then picked up a pointer with a hoof and took flight to hover in front of the glowing image, whose intensity caused us to grimace slightly.

“Your immediate course of action is plain: strike here with two divisions, and aim for Horseshoe Bay.” He motioned to the area in the vicinity of Fort Feathertop and Mareasses, which we knew to be already captured by the Empire. “And launch a supporting attack with a third division in the south, aimed at the headwaters of the Jenny River.”

“Their supply lines cut, this will force the three gryphon legions advancing south to surround you to abandon their offensive and fall back on the coast. But this will prove impossible as the Equestrian Army attacks from the south with two divisions of our own.

“As you can see, we will recapture the Provincial Capital of Richland, trapping the 7th Talon legion to the west whilst the 6th and 12th will be pinned against the Campelonian Coastline and Horseshoe Bay, where they can be crushed at leisure. Perchance their sky gryphon soldiers can escape the trap. But their more numerous earth gryphons cannot.” He smiled thinly.

“And you think the Empire will just sit idly by whilst we carry out this idiotic operation?” Starry Skies scoffed.

“There is little else they can do for now, General. As the main gryphon effort appears to be in the north, the south is but a sideshow and cannot as yet be heavily reinforced. In summary, attack east, and you can cut off three of the five gryphon legions moving to encircle your homeland.

“This will remove the immediate threat to Thestralslovakia and relieve pressure in the north as they are forced to redeploy their limited forces to stabilize the south. ‘Twill not win the war with perchance another dozen legions on the way, but ‘twill buy us the time we need to fully mobilize and raise additional divisions, compelling the gryphons to abandon what appears to be an attempt to bypass our main defenses whilst strengthening the center,” he concluded, returning to ground and folding his feathered wings as his aide cut the projection.

“Do so, and the Princess will hold your oaths to defend Equestria upheld, rewarding you richly,” he promised, but then his eyes narrowed. “Fail to do so, and she will respond by seizing your lands and ejecting you from Equestria once we emerge triumphant. Or perchance if we lose, the gryphons will do it instead.”

Hard Truths
Europa Universalis - Official Soundtrack/OST - Ride Forth Victoriously

The blandly delivered warning elicited a series of angry hisses and growls.

“We do not respond well to threats, Captain,” Starry Skies warned him with flared wings. “If you think the gryphons to be an implacable foe, know that we would violently and fanatically resist any Equestrian attempt to expel us from our Fatherland!” he said heatedly but quietly, going nose to nose with the taller pegasus.

“I know that you do not respond well to threats, General. For if you didst, you wouldst have already attacked the gryphons moving to surround you,” the Captain replied in the same vein. I couldn’t help but notice that Commander Tailwind grinned at the dig—he spoke Romearean as well? “Instead, you huddle like a jackalope in their burrow as the scorpions gather around you, hoping they will eat you last.”

“How dare you!” The General acted like he’d been slapped with a wing. “Take care, Captain. For I have dueled and slain other bats for lesser affronts!” He reared up and went for his weapons belt with both hoof and wingfingers, donning his double-bladed hoofstrikers on the former and wielding a pair of blades in the latter. Thus armed, he presented the Captain with an intimidating display of not two but four weapons he could fight with simultaneously.

“We will defend our lands aggressively against any intrusion, pony or gryphon! Be assured that if the latter ventures into our lands, my soldiers will make them quickly and sorely regret it!” He emphasized his words by whirling two of the blades in his wingtalons.

But far from impressed. The Captain’s turquoise eyes narrowed dangerously and his wind rose again. “‘Tis not me who should take care, General. For if it takes a duel and defeat to make you and the rest of this Lunar Council see reason, then I will be more than happy to oblige you,” he warned, making a series of sweeping motions from his wings to gather the humid night air in the chamber into a cloud before our eyes.

A cloud he then drew a hoof across to elicit an ominous and dangerously audible static charge. It lit up the chamber with electrical sparks and caused eyes to flinch away; the Captain making clear he could fire one or more lightning bolts from it! “I have already overseen one duel to the death this night, and must yet deal with its aftermath when I return. That said, I would rather not have to slay you, General Starry Skies, as we need experienced commanders who know their forces well. Especially for the operation I order.”

To his credit, the General did not flinch from the display, continuing to spin his blades in his wingtalons whilst moving his worn hoof claws into a crossguard position, which I knew was meant to defend him against both magical and close-range physical attacks. “I do not take orders from you!”

“Then mayhap that will be the terms of your duel defeat,” Captain Typhoon suggested easily with an arched eyeridge; he never raised his voice, but the threat that underlay his words was heard loud and clear. “In case you are under any illusions, I am quite capable of combat. So challenge me at your peril, you obtuse and arrogant bat.”

He turned the cloud into a violently sparking ball for emphasis, then generated a miniature whirlwind around him that ruffled manes and sucked loose pieces of parchment towards it. He followed that up by letting the cloud be sucked up into it where it briefly turned the entire sharply defined vortex into a dangerously writhing, lightning-charged mass.

Once the nature of his horrific creation was apparent—I am not ashamed to say ‘twas enough to make my pen falter and cheeks pale mightily—he dissipated it with but a motion of a wing, causing the air to still and sucked-up papers to settle back to the floor. His power made plain—the rumors were true; he was an air elemental, possessing control of the wind far beyond normal pegasi!—the council fell silent.

“So is this your intention, then?” Starry Skies sheathed his blades and settled back to all fours. “Threaten us with death if we do not comply?”

“I did not come here to kill anycreature this night, whether bat or pony, General. I am a soldier; I do not slay for sport or pleasure—even when dealing with supreme stupidity like yours. I am simply making clear what the Sovereignty Settlement requires of you. What it requires of all of you!” He raised his voice briefly to address the cowed chamber, and then turned his gaze back on the silent but still-smoldering General.

“The EIS says you are a skilled soldier and an excellent warrior, to say nothing of a competent but overconfident commander, General Starry Skies. ‘Tis an assessment I am forced to agree with, as you seem unduly certain that a mere four divisions could hold back the Imperial tide—they cannot. In this matter, you must put aside your pride and look at the situation dispassionately.”

“And you think I have not?” The General asked haughtily. “Even our regular soldiers are elite by your standards! And methinks I can read a map as well as you!”

“I wonder. For were that the case, then a simple glance at that map would tell you that with every day that passes, more of your land is encircled and the fewer your options become. That for every mile of territory the gryphons gain, your choices become fewer and your forces are stretched thinner until your entire army becomes but a weak shell of an egg that can be easily pierced and crushed!”

At a second nod to his aide, the map became animated. As we watched, it showed more and more symbols of gryphon legions arriving and encircling Thestralslovakia, forcing us to spread our available forces so thin that when they finally did strike, converging on Hollow Shades, every one of our units was swiftly overwhelmed and annihilated, disappearing in fire.

‘Twas not only an ominous display, but an impressive example of unicorn spellcasting from his aide, leaving me wondering where she’d learned such skills at such a young age.

“Captain Typhoon,” Viceroy Chardonnay spoke up for the first time since the start of the summit, speaking in measured tones. “Please do not think us unaware of the danger or unsympathetic to the peril Equestria faces. But you ask a great deal of us. Sovereignty Settlement or no, I think you wouldst agree that our first responsibility is not to Equestria, but to our own bats and borders,” he offered diplomatically. “And we are far from convinced that what you propose is in the interest of either.”

His words elicited an eruption of appreciative wingclaps and screeing cheers. “Well said, Viceroy!” Starry Skies praised. “So answer us plainly, Captain: why should we risk open war when the main gryphon advance clearly appears to be bypassing us far to the north?”

“Because open war is already upon you,” Typhoon replied as if ‘twas self-evident, “whether you wouldst wish it or not. The only choice you can make now is whether it comes on your terms, or those of the gryphons. Whether you strike now when the advantage may be yours, or if you wait until there is none left, when Thestralslovakia’s fate is sealed.” He ordered his aide to repeat the display, which instantly silenced the Councilbats again.

“To believe that the Nightborne can remain out of the war ‘tis the sheerest form of folly, Viceroy. If you do not believe me, know that we, too, thought war with the Empire was unthinkable. That they could not or would not launch an invasion with their homeland so far away.

“The results of such foalish and wishful thinking… now stand before you in the form of many bloodied ponies. Some of our wounds are obvious, but others are not. First, I invite you all to meet my adjudant, Total Recall.”

His tone suddenly turned far more gentle as he urged her reluctant form forward with a wing. “If you think she is far too young for her post, you are correct. For at the time of the war’s outbreak, she was apprenticing under the guidance of my longtime and trusted aide, Eidetic Memory.”

“And the point of this is… what?” An annoyed Councilor Corvis asked.

“The point, Councilbat, is that she was forced to watch as her beloved mentor and a second aide tried to kill me as they delivered news of the Imperial invasion to my bedside! Despite her pleas and attempts to stop them, they made to pin me and slash my throat with their unicorn powers,” he pronounced as the young mare began to cry.

He draped a wing over her back as he went on. “I was forced to kill them in turn, and she was forced to witness it. And if you wonder why they turned traitor, they had been coltnapped by Diamond Dogs for purposes of implanting gryphon-made mind control gems within them! Gems that forced them to act against their hearts and duty as spies and even assassins if the time ever came, not even knowing they were compromised!” He paused to let the chilling words sink in.

“I regret to say, ‘twas a brilliant and quite brutal tactic that succeeded in wreaking havoc in Canterlot on the first day of the war. As appallingly thorough as their Office of Owls has been in this matter, ‘tis folly to believe there are not some compromised ponies amongst your ranks as well,” he mused, causing eyes to suddenly dart back and forth in worry.

“But lest you think the gryphons are incapable of direct combat against elite soldiers and emerging victorious over them… Spear Sergeant Steelheart! Master Sergeant Stormrunner! Step forth into the moonlight. Remove your helms and bandages,” he directed in Equish to the gold-armored Guardsponies flanking him, who promptly did so without a word.

The earth pony removed his intact helmet to show a lurid series of healing talon slashes on his face. He then released his clearly patched and hammered-out breastplate, which fell to the ground with a loud clatter to show his chest was heavily bandaged; he even had a series of glowing magical wires visible right through the fabric that showed his ribs had been broken and reset, held in place while they were mending.

Methinks I did not even want to think of what force it took to crush his ribcage right through a thick steel plate. But worse was yet to come. Once he was done with his display, ‘twas the pegasus stallion’s turn. He set his half-cleaved helmet aside and then unwrapped the right side of his face to reveal…

The council both visibly and audibly recoiled from the sight of the pegasus stallion bearing a long and ugly cross-stitched scar that perfectly bisected his missing eye. The area was still crusty with dried and blackened blood; the thick stitches glowing softly as they’d likewise been reinforced with magic to keep the wound close and the mending bone locked in place.

He had clearly taken a thick blade or axe strike to the face; I had no idea how he was bearing up so stoically under what had to be a very painful injury.

Regardless of the answer, I couldn’t help but stare at the pair, feeling both revulsion and pity. Especially for the winged pony, who had lost half his vision. Such a wound would be crippling to a thestral no less than a pegasus, for how could he now fly or maneuver properly without depth perception?

“Is there a purpose to this display?” Councilor Corvis asked, his voice far more wan than before. “Are you now trying to shame us into fighting your war for you?”

Instead of answering him directly, Captain Typhoon simply introduced his severely wounded subordinates. “These Guardsponies are Spear Sergeant Steelheart and Master Sergeant Stormrunner—two of my finest warriors. They were assigned to Outpost Epsilon on the far north of the frontier. ‘Twas considered a safe backwater and not under any real threat. The lie of that statement is now before you,” he noted.

“The garrison there fought off the better part of an entire Imperial legion for a full day, repulsing attack after attack until they could resist no more. Indeed, these two would not be standing here now were it not for the Royal Navy.” He then nodded to the formally dressed pegasus stallion, who stepped forward into the moonbeam that illuminated the center of the chamber through the large ceiling skylight.

I only then noticed he appeared to have a bad wing and was incapable of flight. Had he been wounded too? “This is Commander Tailwind of the EAS Loyalty—flagship of the former service of Princess Luna. If you truly believe that My Princess has no love for her sister, then why did she retain not just her Navy, but its colors and traditions?” he asked rhetorically as Tailwind moved up beside him.

For the first time, the lower-ranked pegasus spoke in Romearean. “Naval General Order Number One: Always act in a manner that upholds and honors the Lunar Crown,” he recited reverently, causing the council to fall silent. Every one of Luna’s general orders were taught to us from birth, and word for word.

“Let all present know that even to this day, and even without being crewed by the Nightborne soldiers that once roamed the corridors of its airships, the Royal Navy remains steeped in the rich history and traditions of Luna. And in these traditions, we acted without orders to rescue the garrison in an action I believe Luna herself would have approved.”

Far from mollified, the General took immediate offense. “You dare speak her name without her title?” Starry Skies snarled. “Methinks I should slay you on the spot for befouling her name and service!”

The pegasus took equal offense in turn, deploying his good wingblade and wielding it like a shield. “And listening to you now, methinks I should slay you for your craven cowardice and refusal to act! Naval General Order Number Twelve: those in the Lunar service who shirk their duty in the face of danger to their Navy and nation shall be put to death!” he recited, stepping forward and making clear he was more than willing to duel.

Despite the threat, the General turned to Typhoon and smirked unpleasantly. “Then mayhap that rule should be applied to you, Captain. Or do you sit behind a desk whilst letting your lesser soldiers fight your battles for you?”

His words elicited an angry glare from not just Typhoon, but the two Guardsponies as well; even Total Recall gave him a shocked look.

Burned and Bloodied
Europa Universalis IV - Original Soundtrack/OST - The Stage is Set

“Silence!” ‘Twas not Typhoon that spoke, but Viceroy Chardonnay, raising his voice for one of the few times since I had known him. “You are out of line, General. ‘Tis you who would befoul this chamber by assaulting our guests beneath our regent’s moon,” he reminded him, causing the General to take a single step back whilst still glaring in smoldering challenge at Tailwind.

“Thank you, Viceroy. But insultingly insensitive and ignorant though he is, methinks he is owed an answer. So…” The Captain reached up to remove his sash and unbutton his formal uniform.

He asked his aide to magically remove it, which she did, to reveal that the entire left side of his chest and upper belly were badly burned, with bare and blackened skin evident in the center of the wound where his fur had been completely seared off and had only barely begun to heal.

“Did I mention the dragon siege of Canterlot, General?” Typhoon asked icily as we stared at him in horror—how was he even standing? “‘Tis why Princess Celestia cannot assist us, for to leave the city would be to drop her shield and lose the lives of everypony within!

“I was forced to fly a gauntlet of full-grown drakes and drakonas to escape the Capital, providing distraction whilst Total Recall teleported in stages away! As you can see, even for all my power of wind, I did not emerge unscathed.”

“So, she refuses to sacrifice a single city to aid her armies?” The General managed a weak sneer as the Captain redressed with the aid of Total Recall. She cast a fresh balm spell on him, eliciting an exhale of relieved pain—the first sign of vulnerability he had shown. “Methinks Princess Luna would never have been so weak.”

His sneer was met with one from Typhoon as he refastened his tunic and re-tied his sash. “So tell me, General Starry Skies—Is that truly all you take from this tale?” Methinks Typhoon was nearly out of patience, interposing himself between Starry Skies and an equally angry Tailwind.

“Behind me stand no less than three stalwart stallions, who risked their lives in Equestria’s defense. Who swore oaths and upheld them. Who acted in the finest traditions of both the Solar and Lunar services… working together to serve Equestria as the shield and sword they were always intended to be!” he shouted down the fresh explosion of protests.

“Working together, they won a great victory! Working together, they inflicted grievous losses on the gryphons! This alliance of day and night is what saved the garrison and what may yet save both nations! This is what we once were! This is what we must be again! We must unite as Sun and Moon under the same banner to end the invasion and destroy the Gryphon Empire!”

“We are not invaded!” I couldn’t tell who shouted that over the growing cacophony, so I simply marked it on my transcript as ‘unknown stallion’.

“But you will be!” Typhoon shouted back, and this time I couldn’t hear the first part of the argument that erupted between the Captain and General until the noise died down.

“... be a foal, General! You are correct that we know not how many legions they have yet to commit to this fight, but ‘twould seem likely they could double their available forces given they were forced to launch seven weeks too soon! What this means is that thousands of additional gryphon soldiers will arrive in theater weekly, and ‘tis folly to think that none will be directed against you!”

“You don’t know that! Nor do you—or they—know how we could counter them!” Starry Skies boasted, though the slightly shrill note in his voice told me his confidence was shaken, for which I was glad. “Methinks you deliberately exaggerate the threat! For if you could fight them successfully even heavily outnumbered, then ‘tis certain that we can!”

“Then methinks you not only insult the soldiers standing before you, but you take all the wrong conclusions from that action!” Typhoon responded heatedly, and for the first time, I saw angry expressions on the faces of the two Celestial Guardsponies, who to this point had stood impassive.

“‘Tis a story of gryphon resourcefulness and determination as much as the heroic defense of an elite unit! You know not how they can fight! They will find your weaknesses and exploit them! You have not the numbers or equipment to counter them should they turn their full attention on you! And they will turn their attention on you, as ‘tis certain they cannot ignore you! For how could they leave such a large force of ponies that could potentially strike into their rear as you offer?” he asked mildly.

“We are not ponies!” Minister Shiraz said haughtily, taking off into a hover, as had at least half the Councilbats in their anger.

“And do you truly think the gryphons will see things that way?” Tailwind rounded on her. “All they will see are your equine forms, not your wings or your eyes!

The snarl of Shiraz instantly turned into a sneer. “Then perchance we should side with them! Perchance we should simply offer them Cloudsdale and the Loyalty! The gryphons are said to be an honorable race who keep their word, so surely, they would reward us as richly as you claim Celestia would!”

“Enough!” After what seemed to be a quick jab of a hoof to his own throat, Typhoon’s voice boomed with uncanny force through the chamber along with another irresistible blast of wind, this one strong enough to knock several Councilbats out of the air or even out of their chairs.

“Honorable, you say? Methinks not!” the Captain stated as methinks for the first time, the platoon of soldiers present in the Hall were glancing at each other nervously; ‘twas no doubt in my mind that they were wondering if ‘twas within their power to take down even a wounded Typhoon.

“You know of the offer the gryphons have made to you. What you may not know is that the offer was not exclusive—that the Highborne have been offered the exact same terms as you—independence and control of all Thestralslovakia!”

“What?” “Impossible!” “You lie!” “And just what could those Highborne heathens even offer them?” I did not even try to sort out who said what.

“Then see for yourselves.” At yet another aside to his aide, who methinks looked very unnerved at being in the center of an increasingly angry chamber, a fresh sheath of communications intercepts were floated to us. I was not owed one, but she gave me one anyway; I scanned it quickly between scribbles and saw ‘twas a very flattering letter offering alliance and autonomy, addressed to the High Priestess of the Highborne herself!

“We intercepted this message before it could be delivered. They were attempting to smuggle it in at a western trading post using yet another mind-controlled agent. As you can see, the gryphons are being duplicitous. If they cannot ally with you, they will do so with the Highborne. And how can you claim them to be honorable then?” he demanded to know.

“For if both sides were to accept this identical offer, then one would have to be betrayed!” He spelled it out, then turned his attention back on the General. “And lest you think this is some lie or forgery of the EIS, be assured ‘tis not.

“For put yourself in their wings, General Starry Skies: If you were the Imperial commander and lacked the immediate forces to directly subdue Thestralslovakia, what would be the cheapest and most effective way to remove the threat of the Nightborne to the flank of your advance, knowing that there is a second thestral faction that hates you, sitting squarely in your rear?” he asked rhetorically. “Methinks you hold the answer in your wings.”

His logic rang true as a series of angry hisses—for the first time, not directed at the Captain—were heard.

“How dare they…” Starry Skies was shaking with rage as he poured over the letter, then tore it in two with his wingtalons. “Those blasphemous bats will rule Thestralslovakia over our dead bodies!”

Double Dealing
Europa Universalis IV - Original Soundtrack/OST - The End of an Era

“Backed by the Empire, I’m sure they will be more than happy to oblige you,” the Captain noted dryly, then stepped past him to address the entire chamber. “Bats of the Lunar Council, I have said my piece. I have presented our terms. I have reminded you of your obligations. I have shown you what the gryphons plan, and I have made plain what will happen if you do not act.

“Your marching orders are given. For the sake of not just Thestralslovakia but all Equestria, you must strike the gryphons immediately, or you will shortly not be able to strike at all!” he reminded us, and this time, no voices rose in protest.

“I thank you for your well-thought words and sharing with us this intelligence, Captain Typhoon.” Viceroy Chardonnay finally spoke again, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. “I would ask now that you leave so that we may debate this matter in private.”

“You have until dawn,” the Captain warned, then turned thoughtful. “Or perchance there is another way. I still see reluctance on many of your faces. So if any of you doubt my words or what is coming, then I invite all Councilbats and you, General Starry Skies, to visit the wounded city of Cloudsdale you have so graciously and generously sheltered.”

“To what end?” The General asked suspiciously, though his voice was far more wan.

The Captain gazed upon him coolly. “To see for yourselves the destruction the gryphons wrought, and what would be visited upon Thestralslovakia in turn. To meet the soldiers and civilians who so gallantly defended the sky city, and behold the crushing casualties they suffered. To tour the EAS Loyalty and realize that the Royal Navy has not forgotten Princess Luna any more than you,” he offered placatingly.

“This offer remains open only until I depart at dawn. If I do not return, or return without an agreement or at least your presence, ‘twill be assumed that Thestralslovakia is now Equestria’s enemy. If you will not aid us in our hour of need after three hundred years of supplying your water and faithfully leaving you to your own affairs, then we will abide your presence no longer.

“And be assured, that either by the wings of the invading gryphons or the vengeance of a victorious Equestria afterwards, that you will not be keeping your lands.”

As I look back on this long-ago night now, I am amazed by two things: First, that my cramping wingclaws, hoof and muzzle were able to keep up with all this talk using the shorthoof script that I had been taught in order to rapidly transcribe council meetings for the archives, quickly shifting between them as one appendage got tired. And second, that Captain Typhoon commanded the situation and cowed the hostile Council he faced so effectively.

‘Tis not worth discussing the hourlong debate that followed, for methinks everything worth saying had already been said by the Captain and General in their heated exchanges. So may it suffice to note for now that, either to buy time or avoid a decision for just a little longer, ‘twas the decision of the Council not to go to war, but to take the Captain up on his offer and embark on a ‘fact-finding’ mission to Cloudsdale.

Mayhap some Councilbats thought the Captain was exaggerating and that any damage the city suffered was minor. Mayhap they thought that whatever show the ponies put on for us there could be easily seen through. Perchance others sought political leverage by openly siding with Equestria whilst there, in hopes of finding asylum in the pony nation later if the worst should happen and Thestralslovakia fell.

But fate or mayhap Harmony itself had other designs, as the best-laid plans of Captains and Councilbats would come to fruition in a most unexpected manner. I doubt that anycreature present that day would foresee the amazing means by which the visit would affect them all, via a stunning display of musical talent that seemed to tap Harmony itself.

Whatever its origin, Thestralslovakia would reach its decision before another day passed. And ‘twould be one, methinks, that would echo down not just through the course of the conflict, but through the ages of this nation and world to come. A decision that would seal the fate of two nations, and set one particular bat-pony—me—on his own collision course with destiny.

—Europa Universalis IVth
Viceroy, Head of Lunar Council
Hollow Shades
Thestralslovakia

Thank you for this very illuminating and eye-opening description of these events, Viceroy. I had seen the transcript produced by Captain Typhoon’s aide, but methinks ‘twas very dry reading compared to this!

Ponies sometimes ask me—what was Captain Typhoon truly like? In a word? Commanding. He was the instant master of any situation he found himself in, and his experience navigating the intrigue of the Canterlot Court served him in good stead during diplomatic affairs like this one.

He was not afraid to tell it like it was, as he demonstrated to me by lecturing me over the relative worth of Gavian and Thunderbolt to the war effort, and was equally able to put ‘obtuse and arrogant’ ponies in their place with either the sharpness of his wit or the power of his wind.

There are few ponies—or gryphons—I would cede supremacy to in terms of fighting ability or tactical skill. But the Captain is one of them. He was in many ways the best of us, and yet, he could not stay with us. For the Princess would shortly send him away again on a mission only he could fulfill, as she sought new allies to fight and defeat the dragon clan besieging Canterlot.

But that story is for later, and ‘tis time for one methinks both Fell Flight and myself have been avoiding. But we will put it to paper before she leaves for Nova Ocelota, and then share a jug of rum in remembrance of our own mutual idiocy.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus.
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Author's Note

Well, folks, it is said that diplomacy is simply war by other means, and one of the highest forms of military skill is to bend your adversary to your will without fighting. That’s exactly what Typhoon did here. If you think the Nightborne are being way too stubborn, I just couldn’t see any way around it. There was no way in hell given AJA’s incredible thestral lore that they were going to just give in and give Typhoon all that he demanded, and even now, they’re only halfway there. The other half... well, let’s just say it’s time for our earth pony maintenance crew, who is modeled after a certain metal band that specializes in military stories, to shine. :twilightsmile:

Thanks as always go to AJ_Aficionado for not just prereading but letting me play in his thestral sandbox, to Silverblade5, who is planning to release an AAR (After-action report) on the Battle of Harness Hill, Silentwoodfire, and Leo Archon returning after an absence. You’ll be interested to know that he wishes to guest-write the chapter where the Bolt Knights finally form, late in this volume. He has some excellent ideas for the subject, so I have already told him he may do so.

PS: I may slip some additional graphics in here later, but I only had time to create the one if I was to keep my promise to launch tonight. If I do, I’ll present them in a blog later as well as place them in the chapter.

Second Offensive: 8 - The Daisy Regiment

Author's Note

Welcome back to Firefly, folks! Sorry for the hiatus, but my muse was focused on Feathered Hearts for a long time. For those who didn’t read my earlier blog, to make up for it, I intend to complete six new Firefly chapters by summer, finishing off the third book of the Magnum Opus with both the end of action around Maresk and taking the first steps in the formation of the Bolt Knights.

Thanks go to AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, Silverblade5, and Leo Archon for prereads and feedback. Sorry for the delay, but editing passes and in particular the graphics took a while to do. Hope you like!

—Firesight

Second Offensive: 8 - The Daisy Regiment

Dear readers—

Before General Rock Biter begins telling the story of the second engagement at Harness Hill, I would like to steal the opening section to say that after nearly two weeks of no word, I have finally heard from Gavian again.

A letter scroll was hoof-delivered—or should I say, talon-delivered—directly to me from a Gryphon Express courier who seemed more than a little nervous to meet me. He was trembling as he presented me with the delivery parchment to sign and offered a quill; he shook so badly he missed the sealed ink jug pressed against his side and streaked his own feathers with ink when he withdrew it.

‘Tis one of several types of behaviors I have seen from gryphons in the post-war era, who variously react with fear, awe, or anger upon meeting me. This was one of the first from a young and sleek sky gryphon who had to have been born long after the conflict.

He knew me by reputation only, but long practice has taught me how to put such gryphons at ease. A disarming smile, an expression of gratitude, and even an offer of refreshment usually suffice. Occasionally, I even get asked by gryphons for an autograph on something other than the delivery documents, to the immense amusement of Fell Flight and Blindside.

‘Tis just as well the former has departed, as her large size, sharp tongue and predatory appearance tends to intimidate young gryphons worst of all. But in this instance, he delivered it to me just when we were sitting down to dinner in the Inn with Blindside, Stormrunner, General Rock Biter and his former soldiers, so he ended up meeting many famous figures.

‘Tis certain that General Rock Biter himself was perchance a bit perplexed how he should react to this young courier, having never met a friendly gryphon before. But he offered up a nod and a smile all the same as he was introduced. As our new but nervous friend was to stay overnight in the Inn after flying all the way from Nova Ocelota to make his delivery—the letter from Gavian left Arnau not three days earlier, which ‘tis an unheard-of time for receiving cross-ocean correspondence—Blindside asked her oldest daughter Fireball to keep him company and treat him to dinner.

Before anycreature asks, yes, Blindside gave her original name to her firstborn daughter, given her equally fiery coat and propensity to quite literally bounce off the walls as a toddler. As she is every bit as open and friendly as her mother, to say nothing of well-used to being around gryphons given their tea shop in Canterlot is near the embassy and oft used by them for informal meetings, ‘tis no doubt she will treat him well. After they departed, I stood and read the following letter to all my friends and comrades, both old and new:

—Firefly

Dear Mother,

As always, I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize profusely for keeping you waiting for more word, but ‘twas unavoidable—for the very best reasons. As I have been told you were already aware, a great honor has been bestowed upon me; one ‘tis certain I had no idea was coming but ‘twas far less certain I wanted!

It began when I woke up the next morning after meeting Queen Jeyenne and her court. To my relief, we slept well and felt far more refreshed, finally having had a good night’s rest along with Cara and Sparrow Hawk. Following a leisurely lunch with the Queen and her closest advisors, I was met by Tigrus Rex again, who politely requested that I accompany him and Ambassador Kaval to the Talaeus Training Grounds.

But to little surprise, my wife and daughter would not hear of me going there alone to face potentially hostile gryphons demanding duels with deadly terms. They insisted on coming, and methinks Cara is even more intimidating than the average Talaeus when she gets angry!

We arrived to find a score of black-dyed warriors with sleek red stripes present, and ‘tis no lie to say I felt a moment of fear in their presence, recalling the battles we had with them during the war. And yet, I was introduced to them as not only an honored guest, but as a peer. Ambassador Kaval presented me personally, reminding them that I had not only bested Thunderbolt but survived direct engagement with the Talaeus several times during the war, wounding two.

Despite his words and presence, there was once again neighsaying. Some of the younger Red Talons said they could not fathom how such a small tiercel as I could match elite gryphon warriors, whilst several others openly doubted the story of my defeating the Lightning Demon—even after witnessing the replayed memories of the duel. ‘Twas also pointed out that there was no proof of it occurring other than what a single Raven eagless could supposedly remember, and who was to say her memories or the memory recording itself had not been fabricated?

My response to that was simple, as I stalked up to the eagless in question and informed her nose to nose that I was not interested in having my deeds doubted or combat ability questioned—perchance the honor and customs of my homeland are already rubbing off on me? That if she wanted proof that I engaged the Lightning Demon and lived, I had it in the form of the scars beneath my coat.

As there was a Talaeus mage present, I consented to having the fur and feathers covering my torso removed, on the condition that they be magically restored after. ‘Twas not a pleasant experience to have them stripped from me with the sharp edge of a scimitar, as I instantly felt the biting winter wind and mountain chill on my bare skin beneath.

But not about to show any weakness, I waited until the process was complete. ‘Twas only when I was nothing but naked before my blushing wife and daughter that I turned to face the Talaeus eagless again. Methinks the look on her face was something to see as she beheld the massive spark-like scar centered on my chest from when Thunderbolt tried to stop my heart.

And lest she believed it to be a fluke from some other electrical event, I then showed her the remnants of wingblade slashes on my foreleg and side. The divots in the bone on my forehead and ear from his headbutts and hoofstriker hits. And the small gap in my right wing feathers from where one of Thunderbolt’s lightning strikes had passed through, incinerating the area and preventing it from regrowing.

“Satisfied, Decurion?” I asked her icily, my voice only sharpened by the bitter cold I was feeling. “Or do we have to duel before you wouldst believe me?”

‘Twas then that Tigrus Rex stepped forth. He reminded his forces that he had already tested me when I was far more tired and found me a worthy warrior—that he would permit no further duels with me until I was ‘trained properly’. I knew not what he meant as I went with the Magus to get my fur and feathers rapidly restored, but an education was shortly to follow.

‘Twould seem they wanted me to train with them, even if they would not tell me why! Nevertheless, I recognized it for the enormous honor ‘twas, and graciously accepted it.

Needless to say, the ten days that followed ‘twere a whirlwind of combat instruction the likes of which I have not undergone since my long-ago tutelage under Swift Strike! I was given some light armor and a custom-fitted gryphon helm, then made to spar with it. ‘Twas too heavy for me at first, but their restoration potions coupled with a steady diet of meat allowed me to gain the sinew necessary to support it swiftly; by the end of the first week, I was carrying it well.

I thought I had passed my peak long before, and yet, their harsh but effective methods quickly restored me to my wartime best and then some. After two weeks of training, in fact, I could go blade to blade with most of the Talaeus, who were astonished at how fast and elusive I was.

“You fight like a pony!” one told me derisively, to which I replied I considered that a compliment. Angered, he attacked me only to end up flattened by my blades and rebuked by Tigris Rex himself. The Tribune excoriated him by saying that to act in ire was beneath a Talaeus, reducing his rank and stripping off several pieces of armor on the spot.

And so it went, until ‘twas time to fight my erstwhile mentor again to see if my training had taken, dueling the Tribune for a second time in front of the Queen herself. Our rematch lasted nearly ten minutes—much like my fight with Thunderbolt, now that I think about it. But I regret the outcome ‘twould not be the same.

Methinks I came close to besting him at least twice, but in the end, his experience, superb technique and superior stamina again told, as I could not score a critical hit whilst he eventually landed one of his own. I was not the victor, and yet the cheers were raucous as I was helped up, and then presented to the Queen, who gave her nod of approval, ordering me to ‘receive my armor.’

‘Twas only then I understood what all this had been about. I was covered in black fur and feather dye whilst my purely metal helm and armor pieces were swapped out for enchanted opal ones, followed by symmetrical red stripes being painted on my darkened features and equally ebon armor.

Even my twin Raven scimitars that had served me so well were returned to me with red stripes added, their edges sharpened and enchanted to be unbreakable and last nearly indefinitely. They were presented in their sheaths to me by the Queen’s aides, who held them in their beaks in a manner I was later told was traditional as I accepted them and placed them on their back mounts; the final step was when the Tribune himself stepped forward to affix my new shoulder insignia, giving me the brevet rank of Decurion!

When the process was complete, the aides withdrew—’tis no lie to say I was stunned at what was happening—and the Queen stood to face me, causing her aides to do the same.

“For defeating the demon Thunderbolt and being instrumental in forming friendships between our nations, thou art now and forever a Talaeus, Gavian Ravenoff! Let thy name and deeds be recorded for all gryphons to remember and revere!”

There was more he wrote, needless to say, but ‘tis more private and not something that need be divulged. The purpose of sharing this was to let all who read this know that, in perchance the most dramatic of ironies, my adopted son has been bequeathed the title of those who were once my most powerful and implacable enemies. Methinks I would have loved to see Fell Flight’s reaction to hearing this letter recited, but she will know in due course.

I have written Gavian back, and our recently arrived Courier will return to the Kingdom with my missive. But what I say to him remains private, except for that I could not be prouder of him.

With that interlude concluded, I return the pen to General Rock Biter. Or actually, as he has already penned the section to come, mayhap he would wish to add a note of his own in light of this letter?

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Thank you, Captain, though I fear you are putting me on the spot slightly. Methinks my feelings on the matter are… mixed, as ‘tis certain I never saw the Talaeus as anything but a group of dangerous and dominant gryphons to be slain at all costs, before they slew us or otherwise rallied their side to victory. In truth, ‘tis certain I never saw the gryphons as anything but foes, and to meet them now outside of wartime…

Well. ‘Tis simply not easy to overcome old instincts, as my immediate thought upon meeting our young courier was that he was a spy sent to scout the town’s defenses for a surprise attack.

I know ‘tis ridiculous and wrong, given he wasn’t even born during the war and has anything but the manner of a soldier or assassin, but such thoughts persist in me and are not so easily purged. I suppose I am at least grateful that your son has found a place among his own, and that the new Kingdom has chosen to not just forgive but embrace him. But I will say no more, as I simply do not trust myself to not think ill of even him.

But enough of brooding. The longer I stay here among my old subordinates in the town I once defended and later attacked, the more my fears seem to leave me and the more my desire to continue this journey grows.

As she says, I have already finished the section to come. I did so this morning whilst me and my former comrades had a spartan soldier’s breakfast in the courtyard—though we did allow a pair of indulgences in the form of scones from the gryphon bakery paired with a jar of peach preserves from Thestralslovakia, since peaches were available for us to eat back then and we were told scones remain part of the standard gryphon military ration.

The story to follow came surprisingly easily to me, which my old soldiers and new friends—’tis worth noting again that I never thought of them as friends back then—offered up their own insights and recollections as well. What you will read now ‘tis the result.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
Farmer and Father
Amber Apple Orchards
Stalliongrad

Hold the Hill
Golden Axe (Sega Genesis) - Cinematic Orchestra Re-Recording - Full Album

Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
0555 hours

Needless to say, our overnight stay in the burned and blasted ruins of Harness Hill was not a pleasant one.

As anypony might expect, we got no sleep, and what little of the town had survived the fight we were forced to wreck further as we raced to turn the structures, including and most especially Town Hall, into bunkers.

That meant sending the surviving civilians away despite their protests—to their credit, many wanted to stay and fight, but I told them no, as they were untrained and ‘twould likely be more hindrance than help. “If you want to fight, enlist!” I told them, giving them but ten minutes to grab what possessions they could before retreating west down the Harness Highway to safety. Even before they had left, we started fortifying the various buildings with physical barriers and magical wards; the latter to prevent further fire attacks from Imperial Magi or simply provide us early warning of approaching gryphons trying to sneak in by ground.

Somewhat to my surprise, we had not been struck again during the night as the Talons concentrated their efforts against Maresk itself, trying to pinch off the retreat route along the Harness Highway northeast of the hill. But they had only limited success as we were able to observe enemy activity well from the high perches of Town Hall and warn nearby units of gryphon movement, allowing them to go to ground or rapidly shift their lines to face them.

‘Twas no question the Equestrian Army was fighting bravely, even desperately, knowing they were trapped. Some smaller units tried to run the same gauntlet of airborne gryphons we had to reach relative safety beneath the cover of friendly forces, and especially unicorn longbows at Harness Hill. But nothing larger than a battered battalion made it out from the rearward regiments, who we could tell were being steadily ground down as their lines were being forced back.

We had at least received some reinforcements. My depleted regiment had been joined by the battalion that had turned the tide of the earlier battle, which only partially made good our losses. Without waiting for orders, I sent a missive back to the brigade commander guarding our lines of communication thanking her profusely for our rescue, placing my regiment under her command.

‘Twas not to say I did not get further orders from my previous Brigade commander. I received a missive from Brigadier General Bamboo Blade from one of the retreating soldiers, which formally relieved me of command. She further swore she would arrest me personally for weakening the rearward defenses, and then drag me before Major General Breech Lock herself before all was said and done.

As she was in no position to carry out her threat or enforce her order, I tore up the message and didn’t bother replying, advising all units in communication range to retreat in what order they could before the ring of gryphon steel around Maresk was solidified. Some smaller units who had lost their commanders took the advice but larger ones generally did not, obeying the exhortations of Breech Lock to “hold fast and let the gryphon wave be broken upon our backs.”

‘Twould seem that even then, she refused to acknowledge reality, and my only hope was that her stubbornness could be used to make the gryphons pay as great a price for Maresk as possible.

“Colonel! Beg to report!” Major Wheat Thresher ran up to me and saluted.

I returned the honor promptly. You normally wouldn’t salute out in the open of a battlefield—you never knew if a stealthed Raven was near, after all—but we were in the middle of several concentric defensive rings of soldiers and spellcasting alike, and any nearby mage could pinpoint me easily anyway given how many messages I was sending to friendly forces over our communication crystals. Besides, my dazed battalions needed to see that I was risking myself in light of our losses, given word had already filtered back to me that there was great sorrow and anger amongst some of our soldiers.

Perchance they thought that I had paid too high a price for retaking the hill. Perchance they were even right. But ‘twas certain I couldn’t worry about that then. “Our defenses are set and dispersed as much as possible. The road is well-defended and the battalions have fallback trenches if the pressure gets too great. Methinks if they try to take the town with just a sky gryphon Talon cohort and a couple mages again, they’ll catch Tartarus, sir.”

“Which is why they won’t,” I immediately replied, staring out to the northeast where the battle for Maresk still raged. “Methinks the only reason they haven’t struck us again is that they’re trying to muster a large enough force. And they already know that sky gryphons alone won’t beat us, so advise all battalions to expect an earth gryphon surface assault as part of the effort this time. Expect them to also try a combat drop right into the middle of our defenses,” I instructed, to which he nodded and dashed off to our reestablished communications shed, where a harried Corporal Far Cry was passing and receiving messages over the various dragonfire gems as quickly as she could.

She and her superior, Sergeant Smoke Signal, had certainly done their duty that night, and I made a mental note to put them in for commendations later. But for now, ‘twas time to assist what looked like another depleted and disorganized Equestrian Army battalion making a dash down the Harness Highway to safety.

Such aid consisted of sending the still-fresh unicorns of my borrowed 4th battalion to teleport from shrouded cover to knock down and scatter the sky gryphons trying to attack them from the air, whilst my earth ponies attempted to shatter any earth gryphon battle lines hemming them before they could fully form up.

But ‘twas tactics we could only attempt when they got close enough—within mayhap a mile and a half of the hill—or the greater distance would quickly tire and deplete the power of the unicorns. And this time, it looked like a cohort of talons had them hemmed halfway there as their advance stopped.

“Celestia take it… any Aerial Corps forces available?” I asked Heavy Halberd, who had been trying very hard to keep up with the positions of friendly and enemy forces, marking them on a map he’d spread out on a stone picnic table in the town plaza we’d pulled both pony and gryphon bodies away from earlier, moving them to the side.

“From what communications we can glean, there’s just a single company of pegasi in the area from the 1st Division conducting high-altitude reconnaissance work,” he said grimly. “Their numbers are too few to affect the outcome of the battle, so they’re watching from above and informing 1st Corps command of enemy movement. They have strict orders to not drop below 2,000 hooves high or engage enemy forces, and they’re also instructed to retreat if pursued.”

“In other words, as they’re too high to see much and not allowed to fight, they’re completely useless,” I growled, feeling what for me was a rare moment of anger at our sister service. ‘Twas certain such disdainful sentiments were hardly unknown in the Equestrian Army, who tended to look down on the Aerial Corps for their fewer numbers and inability to truly take or hold ground. In that, it could be said they were actually inferior to the sky gryphon Talons they typically fought, as the latter actually would attempt to take territory and hold it even though they were not well equipped for ground combat.

‘Twas but one more thing I would fix if I ever reached a position of authority where I could effect such changes, but even with the advent of war, ‘twas certain such lofty stations seemed impossible for me to survive long enough to reach. But as I saw the battalion before us being enveloped too far away for us to assist, I cantered over to the communications shed and burst in.

“Call up the commander of that Aerial Corps company, Sergeant!” I directed a surprised Smoke Signal. “Tell them to ignore their orders and to get their flanks down here, now!”

Methinks it took about ten minutes of threats, logic, cajoling, and outright pleading before the Corps commander would listen to me.

I told her that we needed her force to provide overhead cover for Equestrian army units trying to escape the encirclement, and that if gryphon numbers or pressure got too great, her company could take refuge beneath the cover of unicorn spells and longbows at Harness Hill. Despite that, she kept reciting her orders, claiming that by calling attention to ground movements, she was doing her part.

‘Twas then I asked her why, if that was true, had the gryphons not challenged or chased them off? “’Tis impossible they don’t know you’re up there! If they’re ignoring you, ‘tis because they don’t see you as a threat, either to their attacks or their maneuvers! You can’t see anything smaller than large units up there, but the action along the highway is among smaller ones!” I explained in exasperation.

“If I leave my post to disobey orders, I will be court-martialed!” she reminded me. “We need to maintain watch of major unit movement!”

“For the love of Celestia’s sun, you can accomplish that with just a single soldier! And if you don’t help, entire units will be slaughtered whilst trying to flee—one already is!” I slammed a hoof down on the ground in frustration as I watched the Imperials finishing off the damaged battalion they’d pinned in place halfway to Harness Hill, killing at least another hundred fifty sorely needed soldiers.

“So by the Mare in the Moon herself, show at least a shred of honor and get in the fight!” I ordered like I was her brigade commander, to which I then added a near-mortal insult: “Or is the Equestrian Aerial Corps too cowardly to do any dirty work if they’re facing any more than a few ragged raiders?”

A thestral-like hiss was then heard over the communication crystals. Those were fighting words; oft worthy of a duel between Army and Aerial Corps soldiers before the war. ‘Twasn’t fair then given the Corps oft took the brunt of casualties fighting Harpies and gryphon raider groups. And ‘twasn’t fair now given that almost the entire Aerial Corps 5th division had fought and died defending their border outposts to the last. They’d crippled two entire legions badly enough to get them withdrawn from further action and significantly damaged several more—at least according to the intelligence reports that Major General Breech Lock had deigned to pass along.

There was a long pause as the communication crystal fell silent. At first, I thought she had simply turned off her gem to ignore me, but half a minute later, she came back.

“Very well, Colonel. I’ve discussed it with my soldiers, and you win. I’m leaving a squad behind to keep watch on enemy movement, but the rest of us are on our way to Harness Hill! There’s smoke in the air, so fire green flares to let us home in on. And kindly advise your bowmares not to shoot us!”

“Understood,” I replied, noticing the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon to the east. Methinks Celestia’s sun would rise on the remains of two doomed Army divisions and countless civilians caught in the Imperial pocket, unless my reinforced regiment and a single Corps company could pry the line of retreat open.

Five minutes later, a century of Corps troops had arrived on top of the hill, landing in the plaza where they saw the green flares fired from unicorn horns still glowing. Methinks the greetings they received from my surviving soldiers were not as saviors but annoyance and anger over having not arrived sooner, leaving the Equestrian Army to fight the Gryphon Empire alone. ‘Twas certain that we had seen nary a single pegasus over the battlefield during the night, despite promises that the other four Corps divisions were being quickly shifted to face the gryphons.

Though I had no doubt that was true, ‘twas still ridiculous to me and many other ponies that we had to wait so long for them to appear in significant numbers instead of token ones; methinks their commander was correct that a single company could not affect the outcome of the overall battle.

A commander that arrived before me with an angry but uncertain air. “Sergeant First Class Redtail Raptor at your service, Colonel,” she saluted me with a blade-equipped wing as pegasus were sometimes wont to do. “And please know this action may cost me my career.”

I was unimpressed as I returned the honor. “And please know that your career is not important here, Sergeant First Class, and neither are your lives!” I motioned to the still-strewn gryphon and pony corpses around us from the earlier battle, their sight causing many of the younger pegasi soldiers to look afraid or nauseated. ‘Twas little surprise to me that they reacted so badly; the Aerial Corps 1st Division defended the central part of Equestria where there were no borders with hostile neighbors—save perchance the thestrals if they ever decided to rebel—and saw no action as a rule.

“What is at issue is extracting as many soldiers as possible from the Imperial encirclement of Maresk! And to enable that, you and your soldiers must protect them as they make their dash to safety behind my battle lines and beneath the cover of my archers on Harness Hill!”

“So you said,” she agreed shortly as the first rays of the sun illuminated the top of the hill, partially blocking my vision of the battle still raging to the northeast. “But we cannot by ourselves hold off any more than mayhap a century or two of gryphon soldiers. And methinks there are far more Talons than that in the air!”

“And you do not have to.” I stabbed at the map before me with a hoof. “Your task is to launch slashing, hit-and-fly attacks on their airborne forces as they attempt to hem in escaping units! Force them to face you but do not linger long! Knock down a few enemy soldiers and if possible, make them chase you! Do not get pinned down; your only objective is to give fleeing units the opportunity to reach the safety of our lines. Make for Harness Hill if you pick up too much pursuit, and my soldiers will protect you.”

“I see. And their earth gryphons?” she prompted. “‘Tis certain we are not well-equipped to fight them when they are grounded. What if they throw up a battle line in front of a retreating force?”

“Then they must be broken through by that force. Feel free to strike grounded targets of opportunity if they’re looking the wrong way—earth gryphon armor is weak at the flanks and the back of their neck, including the wingbase. But do not tarry or become heavily engaged. As you are the only Aerial Corps troops available, we need to keep your unit as intact as possible.”

“‘Tis nice to know you care about our lives,” she said dryly, to which I raised an eyeridge, the glare to the east becoming blinding as the sun was now rapidly rising into the sky.

“I care less for your lives than extracting as many soldiers from the encirclement as possible. But I cannot do that if you are ground down too quickly.”

“Now that is far more the attitude I would expect from the Equestrian Army,” she said with a smirk as her underlings looked decidedly uncomfortable at the direction the conversation had gone. “Orders understood. We will do what we can. But given you hold the sole remaining escape route from Maresk and are a refuge for fleeing forces and civilians alike, methinks I am surprised they have not struck you a second time yet.”

‘Twas my turn to give an unpleasant smirk. “Fear not, Sergeant First Class. ‘Tis no doubt such a strike is coming, and when it does—”

A series of lightning bolts crashed into the northeast-facing slopes of the hill followed by a large formation of Talons streaking in at low altitude out of the rising sun.

Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
0615 hours

Methinks I stood frozen for a moment as the sudden attack impacted our defenses. I had expected it; even announced that ‘twould involve earth gryphons. And yet, its swiftness and severity still surprised me as I’d had no warning from the outlying forces of Captain Ice Break. His battalion had survived the earlier battle the best; I’d thus placed him to guard the crossroads and protect the northern approaches to the Hill.

3rd Battalion! Report!” I shouted into my personal communication gem, only to not get an immediate response as more gryphons descended on the heels of the first wave, landing halfway up the hill as the trenches at the base were surrounded and engaged.

“Colonel! We’re pinned down!” I got a harried and desperate reply back. “They dropped behind us and took our fallback trench! And now they’re pouring fire right into our lines—quite literally!” he shouted as the gryphon mages—there were at least four that I could see—began scouring our forward trenches with flames whilst a hail of explosive crossbow bolts kept our archers pinned.

“By Luna’s setting Moon, why didn’t we get a warning?” I called out next to our improvised pathfinder squads out by the crossroads, suddenly regretting not having real ones.

“Couldn’t see them… bloody gryphons! Instead of hitting us at night, they waited until dawn and then struck us out of Celestia’s sun!” Ice Break explained.

“But that’s our tactic!” Redtail Raptor protested, to which I gave her a glare.

“Sir! 1st battalion is engaged!” Starstruck called out next; to her credit, she had stayed in her post after only the most rudimentary of healer treatment for a broken horn; she couldn’t teleport but she could at least wield her standard bow. “We’re being hit by a full cohort! They’ve got three centuries of earth gryphons with at least two centuries of sky gryphons trying to wrap around our flanks!”

I swore violently again as I felt the jaws of another gryphon trap closing on us. Even as I berated myself for once more not anticipating enemy tactics, methinks I grudgingly granted respect to the gryphon commander who designed the operation. In doing so, they’d planned well and acted completely against their own doctrine—something the normally insular Imperial military discouraged and even outright punished. Instead of attacking at night as they normally did, they’d snuck up under the cover of the sunrise to get the drop on us and insert directly into 3rd battalion’s fallback trenches. This meant they’d cut them off from the main force, and could now defeat it in detail.

Recriminations could wait, however, and ‘twas certain if I didn’t react quickly, they would pin and destroy my dug-in forces piecemeal. In drawing on past experience for this engagement, methinks I flashed back to trying to hold off a raider attack on a settlement near Outpost Red, where the Army had held the line whilst late-arriving Aerial Corps support finally swept the skies clear of them in stages, forcing them to ground where they were far more vulnerable to the Equestrian Army.

Though we now faced Imperial Talons, I could only pray such an arrangement would yet again win the day. “Sergeant First Class! Take to the skies and engage the sky gryphon units wrapping around our southern flank!” I tapped the area of the map.

“Engage them? But we’d be outnumbered two to one!” one of Redtail’s subordinates protested.

“So you wouldst only fight when you have the odds in your favor?” I asked her derisively, causing her to fall silent. “’Tis not a luxury we have right now! Use the same hit-and-fly tactics I asked for earlier. Become such a nuisance to their operations it forces them to split their effort and enables us to crush the earth gryphons, which are the real threat! Once you do that, stand by for further orders! Now move!” I instructed them all, to which they took flight to the rear at the SFC’s order, clawing for altitude from which they could dive on the invading force.

I switched communication crystals quickly as I saw more gryphons winging in. “Sergeant Major! Be alert for a combat drop directly into the town! When they do, trigger the trip gems at your discretion!” I called out to Tempered Steel’s wounded battalion next, which was holding the buildings they’d paid such an awful price to reach.

They were without most of their unicorns by then, so I’d given them a few from the other battalions, and we’d also strewn various gems in the streets and roofs to greet any gryphons who attempted to clear the same buildings we’d taken. If they wished to wrest them from us in turn, they would have to contend with a veritable minefield of explosive and shock gems.

I didn’t wait for an acknowledgement before calling out to my new 4th battalion, belonging to Major Sunstone’s relief force that had saved us in the earlier battle; they were covering the rear sector as I elected to use her relatively fresh force as a reserve. I only had them dig in after they’d burned out the grass and dried out crops there, however, thus ensuring they couldn’t be turned into an inferno by Imperial mages again.

Unfortunately, Sunstone herself was not available; she was commanding forces along the Harness Highway behind the town. Her mission was to keep the road clear and gryphons from staging the same ambushes on retreating forces that they were in front of Harness Hill, so that left 4th battalion under the leadership of a too-young replacement commander.

“Lieutenant First Class Evergreen! Take half your battalion and fall on the rear of the gryphon force sweeping around the south side of the Hill! Hold positions with your remaining half and engage any Imperials coming around the west side! We’ll clear your positions after the southern attack is defeated!”

“Sir, yes sir!” he replied obediently, leaving me hoping he would yet prove effective despite being fresh from the Equestrian Officer Academy.

All that remained was my beleaguered 3rd battalion, who were currently bearing the brunt of the new Imperial attack. “Captain Icebreak! Keep them busy and hold to the last pony! We have to clear the flanking forces first! Once we do, we’ll come to your relief!”

“Make it quick…” he said as I heard a sizzling sound over the frequency; At least four mages were now raining death down upon them in the form of lightning and fire attacks. “Because I give us five minutes at best!”

“Understood,” I called back, though methinks I mentally wrote off his battalion as fresh fighting erupted to the rear where 1st and 4th battalions had engaged the wraparound forces. Methinks I was also at least mildly surprised the Imperials had not tried to drop directly onto the town and seize the high ground immediately, at which point they could clear the other battalions easily.

But perchance they suspected we were ready for them there—in which case, they were correct—and sought to clear the outlying battalions first before concentrating their full might on the hilltop, when they could then reduce it building by building.

But even in that instance, they might have done better to concentrate their full force on one or two outlying battalions instead of trying to hit all three at once with what looked like three weakened cohorts mustering around 1200 Talons. I suppose I should have been flattered that they saw fit to commit well over a millennium of soldiers against me, going in with double their previous force and no less than eight mages this time.

I was also surprised to see none of their elite Knights, leaving me wondering where they were. We knew they used them to spearhead important attacks and clear critical points. Was this somehow not such an attack?

I got my answer as a turma of thirty gold-armored forms dove out of the sky directly into the plaza around me, wielding heavy shields, spears, axes and war hammers.

“Sir! Get down!” Wheat Thresher called out as he upended the stone table we were gathered around and yanked me behind it just before he took a crossbow bolt to the head and fell dead on top of me. But I had no time to note his passing—’tis certain he had been one of the few I could call friend over my Army career-—as I struggled to find cover.

We were prepared for this contingency as Captain Halberd grabbed and twisted a massive control crystal. It caused the ground at their talons to erupt upwards in a series of explosive gem detonations that weren’t enough to kill but staggered and disoriented them, leaving them prey for a volley of crossbow bolts launched by my barricaded soldiers from ground level. They impacted but did not always breach their excellent armor, slaying mayhap six, but they did allow me and my command group to dive for the safety of a nearby trench.

‘Twas a bold, but overconfident move, I thought as we began to pin down and eliminate the invading force, though it did have the effect of taking away my ability to both see and command the battle. Was that the true intention here, sacrificing a turma of Knights just to prevent us from reacting to whatever other surprises they sought to spring?

I knew not just then. The sounds of battle were all around me as bolts and arrows flew in every direction along with unicorn spellcasting before a second Turma descended with two mages in support, their staves erupted great gouts of flame onto the ground below. But we were ready for that, too, having enchanted the buildings against it. ‘Twasn’t perfect, as an Imperial Magus could still make them burn with enough effort. But short of using dragonfire, ‘twould not be quick or easy.

Nor were the Mages invulnerable as they were greeted with a hail of crystal-tipped longbow arrows that forced them to keep their distance whilst the newly-arrived Knights cleared two buildings on the western side of the plaza; ‘twas clear they were trying to gain a hoofhold in the town into which they then could pour reinforcements.

‘Twas also clear that given enough time, they would succeed. “Battalions! Fortis Knights are attacking the hilltop! Report!” I called into all four dragonfire crystals at once, trying to be something more than the simple soldier I’d been reduced to, wielding a sword in his mouth and firing a crossbow attached to his wrist.

“3rd battalion being ground down!” I heard Ice Break’s fearful and increasingly desperate voice call out. “We’ve been cut in two and they’re sweeping our trenches from the east! We need reinforcement and preferably that Corps company, now!” he pleaded.

“This is Captain Starstruck! We’re starting to overcome our foe, but I’m down another thirty ponies and the Corps company is heavily engaged! They got in a couple good strikes but now the Talons have shifted forces to fight them! They’re trying to wipe them out!”

“4th battalion is pinned by sky gryphons sir! They’re not pressing but they’ve occupied our fallback trench and are keeping us from moving! We cannot relieve the pressure on the 1st without being slaughtered in the open!” Lieutenant Evergreen reported.

“My company’s being swarmed by sky gryphons, sir! We can no longer assist the ground battle and are fighting for our lives! We have to break contact or they’ll crush us!” a frantic Redtail finished the grim reports; methinks I at least mentally acknowledged that despite my earlier accusations, she and her company had proven themselves to be no cowards.

In truth, I don’t recall in what order these messages were received, but ‘twas of little concern. What was a concern ‘twas that my defense plan was already crumbling to pieces and the Hill was in danger of falling for a second time along with my entire regiment, in which case the only escape route from Maresk would be well and truly shut.

‘Tis not easy, one must understand, to be both fighting a force in front of you as a simple soldier but simultaneously command a much larger engagement. In truth, there are precious few ponies or gryphons who can mentally multitask like that. I would not even say that I could as I ducked down to receive the reports, letting my headquarters staff defend me.

Near as I could tell, I had three pinned battalions and one mobile one—the 2nd, which had reported it had the upper hand on its enemy, no doubt in large measure due to Aerial Corps support. That would change as the support was reduced or withdrawn, so ‘twas from that I would have to fashion a relief force, and act immediately before the airborne gryphons broke pursuit and turned on it again.

“Corps force! Break contact and escape to the east! Shake pursuit by flying towards the sun, and then return to a staging altitude over the hill and await additional orders!”

I didn’t wait for her to acknowledge before shifting gems, deciding I would simply reverse battalion roles from my earlier plan. “1st battalion! Relieve the 4th and then fall on the rear of the Knights in the west end of the town! 2nd and 3rd battalions! Hold fast! Relief is coming!” I claimed, even though I had no idea if my instructions could yet be carried out; methinks far too many officers on both sides never learned the simple truth that just because you ordered something didn’t mean it could or would happen.

For the next two minutes—or it could have been five; who can say in the middle of combat—the action atop the hill continued unabated as the Knights slowly cleared several buildings, either with Magus lightning fire or simply storming them directly.

Take it from me that Fortis Knights are equally as good at throwing their weight around indoors and out; methinks I saw at least one instance of a unicorn mare thrown bodily out of a building right through an upper-level window—and the weight of their armor and numbers was starting to tell. Once reinforced by one of the Talon units engaging my battalions, they would have the ability to sweep the town clean of ponies.

I barely had time to consider a counter before a new voice was heard in the trench. “Colonel! Beg to report!” Redtail Raptor’s voice then sounded in my ear next as I poked up my head enough to fire an armor-piercing bolt that missed its target and earned a thrown explosive gem for my trouble; fortunately Far Cry spotted it and magically deflected it away.

“We’ve shaken pursuit but are down to half strength! As per your orders, we’re now circling five hundred hooves above the town, but ‘tis certain the gryphons know we’re here, sir! Methinks they’ll send a force for us soon! Orders?” she asked; I could hear her plea to not keep them up there too long.

Fortunately for them, ‘twas not my intention. Unfortunately for them, what I needed from them now ‘twas certain to be even worse. “Corps force! The Knights have taken the west end of the town! Dive on their aerial cover and try to knock out the mages! Then support 2nd and 4th battalions as they sweep in from the same direction!” At least, I hoped they would, given it had been several minutes since I’d last had contact with them; I couldn’t discern anything happening from that direction over the smoke and sound in front of me.

There was a pause, and before I could think to ask, Redtail gave me a status update on them. “They’re almost up the hill, but they’re having trouble punching through a line of Talons to do it! Do you wish me to assist them instead, sir?”

“No!” I shouted. “The mages have priority! Use the attacking battalions as a distraction! Try to catch them looking the wrong way!”

She cursed under her breath, but to her renewed credit, she did not hesitate to obey. “Orders understood. Will attempt to comply, but methinks we have nothing that can punch through Magus shields, sir!” she reminded me, to which I rubbed my eyes with a hoof, wondering if the Aerial Corps was just as idiotically stubborn as the Army when it came to teaching unorthodox tactics.

“Then use your communication crystals! They disrupt nearby magical fields when broken!” I had thought everypony knew that trick. “Shatter them against their shields, and at full speed you shouldst be able to penetrate them!”

There was another pause; I could well imagine she was exchanging dubious glances with her comrades. “But even if that works, we won’t be able to communicate!”

“That isn’t as important as taking out those moon-damned mages! Now dive!” I ordered her again. “And then hit targets of opportunity! Assist the battle as you can at your discretion!” I clicked off the gem, believing that was the last I’d hear from her, hoping she would show enough tactical sense and personal initiative to do some good without orders. She was competent enough at following instructions, but could she function on her own?

‘Twas oft no way to tell except to actually see a commander in action, and ironically, ‘twas the hovering gryphon commander who had my attention then. He was showing quite ably that he could, directing fire as he methodically took the hilltop building by building. He used his mages to clear our traps and wards before storming the structures with well-trained Fortis Knights, who oft went right through walls by smashing them inward with war hammers to surprise the ponies within.

They were taking casualties too, to be sure, but ‘twas certain the war of attrition favored them and I found myself wishing for Royal Guard support. But Armored Guardsponies were rarely assigned to Army units, and of those few we had, Breech Lock had placed them in her forward defenses instead of using them as a reserve force where they might have done more good.

I admit I spared a moment to curse her again for bringing this upon us; forcing us into a fight for the lives of not just ourselves, but the entire Army Corps trapped at Maresk. Was there not a single officer in the entire Equestrian Army, I wondered, who could show initiative and do something other than mindlessly obey idiotic orders?

Methinks I got my answer as there was a sudden and quite loud cacophony to the northeast, along the Harness Highway.

* * * * *

‘Twas then I got a new message from Redtail Raptor. “Sir! Beg to report! Friendly forces from Maresk are charging southwest along the Harness Highway towards your position! From what we can see, at least three entire regiments are on their way!” she informed me, causing my jaw to drop. “They’re disorganized but advancing! They’ve already broken through two lines of Talons and are perchance a mile and a half out from the base of the hill! Do you wish to change our orders?” she asked hopefully.

I admit, that caught me short. This wasn’t a leaderless platoon, company or battalion making such a move; the maneuver of multiple regiments would have to be ordered and coordinated at brigade level. Had somepony at brigade or division actually come to their senses?

‘Twas a question for later. “Yes! Assist that force and find the commander! Tell them that Harness Hill will fall in five minutes without their help!”

“On the way!” she said in audible relief. Methinks I can hardly blame her for that, given she could have lost an additional score of soldiers just trying to take down a single Magus Knight. Unfortunately, that still left us with the issue of them, and with no more Corps support and half the town already wrested from us, our defeat ‘twas simply a question of time. But mayhap there was still a way to buy more of it.

“Captain Starstruck! The enemy commander is visible!” I set my eyes on the large and well-armored tiercel Knight effectively commanding the operation; as I watched he turned his head towards the north; mayhap being informed of the same advancing force that I was. “Do you think that bow of yours could slay their sub-Tribune?”

There was a pause. “Methinks not unless you can get me close enough… and with a broken horn, I can’t teleport, sir!” she reminded me slightly painfully. “I can barely draw my regular bow, let alone my heavy personal one!”

“Can another unicorn wield it?” I asked her, to which she gave an audible groan.

“It’s made with my aura and thus responds to it. Another unicorn could try, but they would find it far more difficult. I do not believe they could launch an accurate or fully-charged arrow with it.”

I swore again, wondering why everything had to be so difficult. Were the Sun and Moon goddesses themselves looking down on us with disfavor this morn? “I can get her close, sir,” a new and quite nervous voice broke into my thoughts. “I’ll teleport her there, then back again.”

I looked down the trench and was startled by what I saw. “Far Cry?” I addressed the young unicorn mare before me, who ‘tis certain was anything but a combatant; her special talent was communications, as shown by the paired dragonfire gem cutie mark on her flank. “Are you sure?”

She swallowed as a round of explosive bolts impacted near the top of the trench, forcing us to pull our heads down. “No, sir. I’ve never been more scared. I already know I can’t use a bow or blade. But mayhap I can at least help those who can.”

I stared at her, then nodded—time was short and options were limited as two turmas of Knights backed by a century of Talons and six mages formed up for an all-out attack; ‘twas clearly their intention to try to take the hill before the relief force arrived. Methinks I had but a hundred effectives from 2nd battalion left on the hilltop then, and with most of our defenses cleared, ‘twas certain we could not hold.

“Do it!” I commanded, then switched frequencies again as I received messages that the gryphons were shifting forces to meet the incoming regiments, pulling ground and air troops away from 1st and 4th battalion. “All battalions! Full attack! Break through their weakened lines and hit the Knights on the hilltop from all sides! Relief force inbound from Maresk!” I told them, though ‘twas certain I couldn’t be sure they would assist us. But surely the commander understood that if the Hill fell, the gryphons would be in perfect position to rain down crossbow and Magus fire on their advancing columns?

I got a series of three acknowledgments back as a fresh force of gryphons formed a battle line at the north side of the summit; given I did not receive one from Ice Break, methinks I could only conclude that his force had held out for as long as they could but had ultimately been annihilated.

‘Twas but one more loss I would never be able to miss or mourn as we were struck from two sides. But I ordered all remaining unicorns to aim bolts tipped with magic disruption spells into the air around the enemy commander, hoping to disperse whatever anti-teleport or other wards had been placed around him.

I waited until they impacted the area, though Magus wind spells knocked some of them askew. I knew not if ‘twould be enough, but ‘twas no time to wonder. “Far Cry! Now!” I shouted into my gem, to which there was a flash of light behind me followed by one forty yards in front of me.

Unfortunately, the enemy commander was sixty yards away; the wards had not been cleared close enough and thus Far Cry’s teleport was stopped short, leaving her and Captain Starstruck in open ground, quite visible to the gryphons.

In that moment, I knew that both were dead unless they could teleport back. But instead of doing so, Far Cry threw up at least a weak shield whilst a visibly agonized Starstruck took aim with her personal bow and fired before their bubble was impacted by dozens of spears, heavy crossbow bolts and lances of Magus lightning.

The assault overwhelmed them and they fell slain. But Starstruck’s heavy arrow hit home, punching right through the enchanted chestplate to embed itself in the sub-Tribune’s heart. He looked down in shock before he slumped forward and fell out of his hover to the ground—’twas but one final act of defiance, methinks, as ‘twould seem the hilltop was lost.

But just like before, the battle turned in the space of seconds thanks to the three Equestrian Army regiments now charging up the north flank of the hill. The hastily repositioned Talons tried desperately to hold them off, but they couldn’t get their shieldwalls erected and phalanxes organized in time as nearly a thousand disorganized but determined Equestrian soldiers crashed into their ranks and pierced them in at least three places. They fled into the skies as dozens, then scores, then hundreds of battered and bleeding earth ponies crested the hill and surged into the town, with the remnants of the Corps force flying cover.

The odds quickly and sorely turning against them, the leaderless Knights fell but perchance a minute short in their effort to retake the town. A Senior Spear belatedly took command and gave the order to retreat, directing his force to flee in every direction before the invading brigade could conduct the same pincer operation they had attempted on our flanking forces.

Thus did the second engagement of Harness Hill end with yet another unlikely and well-timed rescue, leaving us to lick our wounds and take stock of what we had left.

Five minutes later, the Hilltop was secure again, reinforced by a badly depleted brigade that mustered perchance but a regiment and a half of soldiers. But mayhap ‘twould be enough for now, as the gryphons had sacrificed what I conservatively estimated as an entire cohort of Talons in the failed effort.

Unfortunately, our losses were proportionally even worse. I was found by Redtail Raptor and ordered to come to the base of the hill by the brigade commander, who had lost all her dragonfire gems. I had to pass through the remains of 3rd battalion to do so, showing me they had died where they stood, their lines raked by crossbow and Magus fire leaving nothing but smoldering corpses in the field of daisies they had dug into.

But there was no time to consider what our latest defense had cost, as I was summoned for what I thought likely to be promised relief of command and arrest. And yet, when I arrived, I found a gravely wounded Brigadier General Bamboo Blade. She was coughing up blood and bleeding out of multiple crossbow bolt and spear wounds; I was told as I approached that the healers did not have enough time or power to save her.

My guts clenched to see her, but I still stood to attention and saluted her as she laid on the ground. She returned the honor weakly with her left hoof instead of her right, which hung loosely off the end of a broken limb.

“Colonel…” she coughed. “I am pleased to see you survived… unlike me.”

“Don’t speak that way, ma’am,” I told her. “Let me get you our healers. I’m sure they have some power left.”

“Don’t bother,” she told me with a cough. “My wounds are mortal, and I will not waste healer strength on me when other less injured soldiers can be saved. And saving soldiers is now your sole task, Colonel,” she said as she began coughing and shivering again.

“You speak of me saving others, but you saved us, ma’am!” I stood to attention again. “I disobeyed orders. If you still wish to relieve and arrest me, I will not resist.”

“No. You saved us,” she replied through another coughing fit, struggling to maintain consciousness and waving off a unicorn who offered a painkilling spell. “We were only able to attempt a breakout because you were here. They threw such a large force into retaking the Hill that their forces along the highway were weakened, so we took advantage of that and the Aerial Corps cover you sent us. If Harness Hill had not been wrested back last night, ‘tis certain no retreat would be possible. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you sooner.”

I stared at her in amazement. This was not the Bamboo Blade I knew, or thought I knew. But now, as she stood on the brink of death, she had seen the light? I felt my first true moment of sorrow as she then grabbed at my hoof.

“You were right, Colonel. You were right about everything. Promise me that next time, you’ll make us listen. That by the sun itself, you’ll force us to listen.”

“I will advise your replacement as best I can, ma’am,” I promised, holding her hoof.

“You’d better. For that replacement is you,” she managed through another, weaker cough as her body began to shake; at that moment she was passed an order scroll to which she just managed to sign her name.

“As you’re the only leader we have that has shown even an inkling of good military sense, I give you command of whatever is left of 3rd brigade. Lead it well. And use it to hold the retreat route open for as long as you can. More forces from Maresk are coming. Save them!” she directed with a final clutch of my hoof before her grip slackened and her head fell back, her eyes fixed open.

I bowed my head and reached down to close them with a hoof, taking a moment to gather myself. I closed my eyes once, then opened them again to see many tired, injured, and beaten-down ponies around me.

I wanted to cry. I needed to cry. But I could not. And I would not. There was no time. And I still had a mission to fulfill. “By your order, General, I take command,” I saluted her fallen form one final time, then turned to the onlooking ponies.

“So what in all Tartarus are you staring at? We have work to do! First Lieutenant! Dig fresh lines around the crossroads and dispatch two battalions down the road to secure it as far as Yoke!” I addressed the first of three regimental commanders; I did not yet know his name. “First Sergeant! Take your battalion to the top of the Hill and secure the south end of it with archers dispersed to keep sky gryphons at bay! And as for you, Captain, take over the defense at the base of the hill!”

I pointed to the trenches which held the remains of my original 3rd battalion. “They did what they could and they died where they stood! I expect no less from you! No less from any of you! Now move!”

Thus did the second engagement at Harness Hill end with another third of my regiment down, the bodies of Captain Icebreak and his 3rd battalion strewn in the fall flowers blooming beneath the town as they accepted annihilation as the price for preventing the fall of Harness Hill for a second time. My surviving soldiers again mourned and even decried our losses; some proclaimed me little more than a butcher who cared not about the lives of his soldiers.

But ‘twas both my greatest fault and military virtue that I cared not. “Not one backward step!” I told my suffering soldiers, informing all who asked that we would stay until the 1st Corps crumbled and we had extracted every last survivor we could.

And when there was some suggestion of rebellion in the ranks, I told any present that if they abandoned their post or turned on me, I would not hesitate to charge them with desertion or duel them.

That I would order their instant execution in the case of the former or slay them myself in the latter, reminding them that every life sacrificed here was spent to extract several more from the Maresk pocket—thanks to us, nearly an entire brigade of soldiers had escaped the Imperial trap by midmorn.

We would take what solace we could from that knowledge, even if it still meant the bulk of the Corps was lost. And ‘twas from the field where 3rd battalion fell to the last pony that my original regiment gained the name ‘twould hold for the rest of the war:

The Daisy Regiment.

—Rock Biter

I thank you for sharing this second tale of battle, General, which methinks was scarcely less bloody or harrowing than the first. Methinks one of the lessons we all had to learn was that the gryphons were just as capable of learning from their mistakes and adjusting their tactics as we were, nor were they too proud to turn our own tactics against us as they did here, striking out of the morning sun in an effort to cut the final lifeline to Maresk.

‘Tis December now as the first snows from lake-generated squalls dusts the harvested fields around Harness Hill, which I was told by somepony knowledgeable is believed to be a remnant of an ancient volcano given the rare gems found in the area. Though ‘tis hard to fathom such a thing, perchance ‘tis fitting given the many violent eruptions of battle the area saw, all centered on the hill itself.

I am told by General Rock Biter that there is one final tale of war to relate from the hilltop—or at least, a final battle of the Maresk campaign as they struggled to hold the door open long enough for more Army and civilian forces to escape down the Harness Highway towards Melody and Detrot.

To that end, he and his soldiers have elected to remain at Harness Hill for another day to match the length of their stay that first week of war. And I have also recently received a missive from Ambassador Kaval—who remains in Arnau and whom I thank profusely on behalf of Gavian and his family for all he has done for them—that he will relate word from the gryphon side of the Maresk battles in the next entry.

‘Tis an entry I am once again not looking forward to writing, as ‘twill be time to show what happened to myself and Fell Flight in the aftermath of our ill-thought duel. Worse, as Fell Flight is not present—if she and Oberon keep their planned itinerary, they should arrive in Nova Ocelota tomorrow—‘twill fall to me alone to write. Until then, I bid you fair tidings as we enter the season of Hearth’s Warming and look forward to hearing more from Gavian.

—Firefly

“Popularity is not leadership.” —Richard Marcinko

Second Offensive: 9 - Captain's Mast

Dear readers—

Gavian’s tour continues, or perchance more appropriately, begins. His training complete, he was at long last going to explore the wide expanse of Aresia with his family, who, by all reports, are at least starting to settle into the Kingdom after a two-week stay in Arnau.

I will not share his latest letter, but my son says that their daughter Sparrow Hawk is slowly but steadily adjusting to her homeland. ‘Tis certain she misses her pony friends to say nothing of the sweets and soft breads she enjoyed in Canterlot, finding gryphon scones far too tough for her tastes.

But I’m sure Fell Flight at least would be pleased to know that she loves their slow-cooked flying boar and smoked fish. She has also made some new friends, enjoying the fact that gryphons her age enjoy roughhousing just as much as the pegasi she knew in Cloudsdale and Canterlot did.

‘Twould seem she has even gotten into a couple fights—far more a function of her mother’s temperament than her father’s, methinks—and acquitted herself well, finding to her surprise that the Kingdom does not punish them unless certain lines are crossed.

As for Cara, she remains reluctant to ever leave Gavian’s side, still worried that he might be challenged to a duel with lethal terms if she is not present. None would ever doubt how fiercely loyal she is to him, given the circumstances that accompanied their initial meeting long ago near the end of the war. Or that she, too, can fight, given the awful environment she grew up in.

But I will let her tell that story when the time comes. Having seen to the warrior half of his heritage, Gavian tells me he now wishes to know more about his race’s artistic side, but I fear he will find it lacking. For ‘twas once explained to me by Ambassador Kaval that the Empire purged almost all traces of a once-rich artistic culture, in their zeal to forge a purely military meritocracy.

Speaking of the Ambassador, ‘tis time for him to be heard from again. He wishes to relate the Imperial side of the operations around Maresk, which, despite meeting the immediate objective of pocketing the bulk of the 1st Equestrian Army Corps, was meeting with its own issues, not the least of which was the failure to completely seal the pocket thanks to the future General’s stubborn defense of Harness Hill.

‘Tis certain the General himself will have some things to say about it, as ‘twill be the first time he hears of it. But as action at Harness Hill had at least temporarily ceased after the latest failed Imperial attempt to seize it, we will step away from it for a bit. In its place will be the Ambassador’s section, which he mailed to me from Arnau, delivered by the same courier that gave me Gavian’s latest letter.

But before that, ‘tis time, sadly, to tell the tale of what happened to me and Fell Flight in the aftermath of what might have been our alliance-destroying idiocy of dueling in front of the Nightborne Council. ‘Tis a painful memory to me, and not just for the punishment I was given.

But for who administered it.

—Captain Firefly

Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Captain’s Mast

EAS Loyalty
Topmost Observation Deck, in front of Mainmast
Cloudsdale Central District Airship Anchorage
September 5th, 1139 AC
1600 hours

“Attention on deck!” The call was made as Fell Flight and I were half-pulled, half-dragged before an audience that included a third of the ship’s crew and half the Corps contingent assigned to it. Also in attendance were the Nightborne of the Lunar Council, who looked less than happy about being up at that hour when they were normally asleep during the day.

They grumbled amongst themselves at our poor discipline; my ears picked up the General of their self-described Army of the Night saying that if we were his soldiers, we would already have been stripped of our ranks and station and then received a series of crippling lashes to the wings.

I could only imagine how painful they would find tears in their membrane surfaces, and wondered what punishments the Royal Navy retained from Luna’s rule. We had been advised of what was to come by the Mare-at-Arms, who had made it a point to display a whip she said ‘twas used for extreme breaches of discipline amongst the crew. She was also very good at using it; she demonstrated by lashing the opposite wall, pulling the paint and even some splinters of wood right off it.

Fell Flight and I were still hurting badly from the damage we’d inflicted on each other. Worse, our wounds had only barely been treated and we were in manacles, our limbs so stiff and sore we could hardly move even without them. Methinks I cannot blame them for that; the guards we had roughed up who’d only been trying to prevent a bloody battle in sickbay were less than happy with us. So were the sickbay healers themselves, who methinks had more than their fill of us over the past day.

“Bring forth the accused,” the Mare-at-Arms directed, and we were half-shoved, half-dragged forward to face the Captain. She was standing on a small platform that surrounded the mainmast, bracketed by unsmiling sentries.

Father then walked before us and unfurled a scroll from which he read what I later knew to be the standard boilerplate for such proceedings. He wouldn’t even look at me, instead directing his attention to the assembled audience, speaking into a loudspeaking crystal.

“Master Sergeant Fell Flight of the Equestrian Aerial Corps! Master Sergeant Firefly of the Royal Guard! You both stand accused of gross dereliction of duty, conduct unbecoming a soldier, fighting an unapproved duel and multiple assaults on the Naval sentries who tried to stop you. These charges are serious, and as they occurred on board a Royal Navy Airship you were assigned as crew to, they will be adjudicated under the Royal Navy’s Code of Conduct, as laid out by Princess Luna at the Navy’s birth,” he began ominously.

I admit I could not help but swallow, for even before her fall into the thrall of The Nightmare, Luna’s reputation had been as a harsh mistress who did not brook any disobedience amongst the soldiers of her service.

“But before we proceed, ‘tis my duty to inform you that this is not a court-martial, and any determination of misconduct ‘tis not recorded as a conviction. But this also means that the formal rules of evidence and deliberation used in legal proceedings do not apply. If you wish a full court-martial with legal representation by Royal Navy barristers, ‘tis your right to request it, but the punishments that result may be even more severe and will be recorded as permanent marks on your military record,” he informed us both.

“If you waive that right, the Captain will hear the evidence and render judgment, imposing whatever punishment she deems fit in accordance with the Royal Navy’s General Orders and Princess Luna’s Code of Naval Conduct. Do you understand these terms as I have described them?”

“Yes, sir,” we said quietly. With Captain Typhoon glowering at me from off to the side, methinks I was certain my meteoric rise through the ranks was at an end.

“Then do you waive your right to legal representation and court-martial, and accept the judgment of the Captain if she deems you guilty of your transgressions?” he next prompted.

“Yes, sir,” we said again, not looking at each other. I’d barely glanced at her since the duel, but ‘twas certain Fell Flight was every bit as beat up as me; her Corps uniform torn to shreds just like I had many divots and outright gashes in my enchanted armor through which my wounds from wingblade slashes still slowly oozed blood.

She’d not held back, and neither had I. In hindsight, ‘tis a wonder that neither of us were permanently wounded or worse. She had proven herself correct in her claim that she could fight me on equal terms now, even going so far as to exchange a helmet-to-helmet headbutt that left us both reeling after.

“Then this Captain’s Mast will proceed, and we will call upon our first witness. Senior Starpony Nightingale? Step forth!” He summoned the head of sickbay forward first; she moved in front of us and saluted crisply, then stood to attention before him.

“Senior Starpony. By direction of the Captain, please describe what happened in sickbay, and what you saw.”

“Gladly,” she said in great ire, proceeding to give her statement.

* * * * *

For both myself and Fell Flight, methinks the next hour that followed was one of the worst of our collective careers.

‘Twas as everypony from the head healer to a series of sentries we’d tossed around with our wind or outright shocked into unconsciousness testified, that our folly was fully driven home. ‘Twas a litany of raw anger and escalation, the throwing away of all friendship and honor, and a complete inability to consider the consequences of what we were doing that was recited back to us, leaving me wondering if I had somehow reverted all the way back to my petulant teenage idiocy of old.

An idiocy I thought had been beaten out of me when I lost my first duel to Sergeant Major Windshear at basic over a year earlier, lying on the ground soundly thrashed, crying less from my broken wing than my shattered pride. But here I found myself again, facing yet another mayhap career-ending moment. And worse, ‘twas coming in the middle of wartime, right when we were needed the most.

What would my beloved mentor think of me now, looking down from the Summerlands as I so desperately wanted to believe he was? ‘Twas all I could do not to let the thought bring a tear to my eye. I knew not what was going through Fell Flight’s head, of course, but both of us declined offers to interview the witnesses ourselves or offer evidence on our own behalf. Our anger spent and seemingly having gained us nothing but the predicament we now faced, we knew full well our actions were inexcusable.

And more than worthy of severe retribution; I would have come down very hard on any soldier under my command who’d done what I did regardless of how much I’d liked them before. I’d heard from my father that the Navy still practiced various forms of corporal punishment, even capital when the offense was egregious enough. ‘Twas a throwback to Luna’s time, and ‘twas said the Mare-at-Arms was required to be skilled with a whip to administer sentence for the former.

Though I tried hard to keep my eyes fixed straight ahead—one must understand ‘tis very difficult to stand at attention for long periods of time, especially when wounded—my stance and gaze wavered repeatedly, going to the watching Nightborne to the side. They had stayed silent except for some whispering among themselves; their slitted eyes unreadable behind the nearly-opaque flight goggles they wore so they could see in daylight. But more than once I heard unfavorable comments, particularly directed at my second; I heard the term ‘Highborne half-breed’ or some variation uttered by members of the Lunar Council more than once.

Under normal circumstances, Fell Flight would have greeted those remarks with her trademark ire and intimidation; methinks to this day she is never afraid to give as good as she gets, whether verbally or physically. But now? She was silent and stoic, as was I, not even an ear flicked at the worst of what we heard.

Finally, after nearly an hour, the end of the interminably long witness list was reached. Having declined all offers to interview them or ask questions ourselves, we were asked by Father if we wished to offer anything in our defense.

“No, sir,” we said quietly. For what could we say? I admit I was somewhat tempted to take all the blame to spare Fell Flight, but somehow, I suspected that would only make things worse.

“And are there any witnesses you wish to call or evidence to present?”

“No, sir,” we replied again. Methinks I felt completely numb at that point, my anger burned out of me, leaving only the barely-dulled pain of my many injuries behind.

“And is there anything you wish to offer that would lessen the seriousness of these offenses or mitigate them?” Father asked; ‘twas certain his ire had only grown the more he heard and learned of what happened.

“No, sir,” we answered again.

“I see. Then ‘twill fall upon the Captain to present judgment, and having heard the whole story behind this disgusting and dishonorable duel, I must reluctantly recommend that—”

“Yes, sir!” came a voice from the crowd I shortly recognized as Blindside, who stepped to the fore before anypony could stop her. “I wish to speak.”

“Sergeant? Don’t,” I told her under my breath, but she ignored me.

Tailwind’s eyes narrowed as Shady pinned her with a stare; several naval sentries also stepped forth in case they were ordered to restrain her. “Sergeant Blindside, perchance you are not familiar with the procedures of a Captain’s Mast, but onlooking ponies may not speak unless invited. And you have not been.”

She stood to trembling attention but did not relent. “They have been granted no defense, sir. I wish to give it.”

“‘Tis not your choice to make, Sergeant. They were offered the chance to defend themselves but declined,” Father reminded her, a warning edge to his voice.

“If they will not defend themselves, then I will! Please, Captain! You must understand what they were going through. You cannot make a proper decision for punishment without it!” she tried again.

Father glanced back at Shady, who nodded once. “Very well. You are out of order, Sergeant Blindside, but at the Captain’s command, I will indulge you. What do you wish to offer on their behalf?”

“That Master Sergeants Firefly and Fell Flight are two of the finest soldiers I have ever been privileged to know,” she began. “That they have saved my life on multiple occasions, to say nothing of the entire Epsilon battalion! ‘Twas their training that turned us into elite soldiers who could take even the best the Gryphon Empire could offer, and they asked for nothing in return, save our loyalty and willingness to serve!” she said fervently, then turned to face us.

“Without that training, we all would have died, mayhap in the initial Talon attack. Without it, we could not have held out as long as we did, and would not be standing here now. For all they have done for not just me and the battalion but all Equestria, I would not only serve under them, but I would die for them! And methinks nothing that happened today changes that!”

Her words elicited an eruption of cheers from the remaining Corps soldiers, but Shady appeared unmoved. “Methinks that is the minimum required for any soldier, Sergeant—obedience to orders from superiors, who are required to train their underlings satisfactorily in turn,” she replied. “That you are loyal to them is noted, but—”

“But this ship is the EAS Loyalty, ma’am! The embodiment of one of the six Elements of Harmony! You wouldst ask me to forsake all friendship and love for them simply because they snapped after days of unrelenting combat and abuse?” Blindside challenged, and I was surprised to hear the word ‘love’ from her; methinks ‘twas a rare slip of the tongue from a mare who to this day is still one of the most circumspect ponies I know.

She blinked once, then charged ahead; I’m not certain anypony interpreted that as anything but a soldier’s love for their leader. “I would have the Captain and all present know that Fell Flight lost nearly her entire herd at the Weather Factory in the Imperial attack—that every adult member of her family save one was slain! She suffered the loss of her entire clan whilst the adopted son of Master Sergeant Firefly was forced against her will into a duel with deadly terms… with mine and Fell Flight’s mentor!” Her voice was starting to quaver as a glance towards Typhoon showed his lip tight.

“We are aware of this, but—” Father began again, but Blindside charged ahead anyway.

“A beloved son that now lies near death in sickbay! So by Luna’s Moon itself, how didst you expect them to respond to these provocations?” She turned her glare on the Captain of the Guard next whilst some surprised murmurs came up from the Nightborne in turn.

“That duel matched Firefly’s son with Fell Flight’s mentor! That meant that no matter the victor, ‘twas all but guaranteed that at least one of them would end up with a loved one gravely wounded or dead! And for this, you wouldst punish the inevitable explosion that results? Methinks a pony can only take so much!”

“I am aware of these facts, Sergeant,” the Captain said shortly, “But they do not excuse their actions. Or their assault on my sentries!”

“Perchance not. But they should at least mitigate them. I thus remind you of them, and say before all present that they are good soldiers who we cannot spare! Despite their actions, my loyalty to them remains, as does the entire surviving Corps force aboard this ship! Please… I speak for all of us when I beg you to not reduce their rank or remove them from command! For I owe them my life. We all do.” She made an expansive motion with her wing to the assembled Corps contingent around them.

Her actions elicited another cheer, which I admit I did take some heart from, though I also wondered if I was truly worthy of it any longer given what my actions may have cost us.

“You have said your piece, Sergeant,” Tailwind warned her with a glower. “Your defense has been heard and noted. Now step back, or risk arrest.”

“But I—” She didn’t move right away.

“Step away, Blindside,” I ordered her softly. “Do not sacrifice your career and honor for ours.”

“’Tis mine to give, ma’am,” she replied, her eyes glimmering. “For I would be neither soldier nor friend if I did not stand up for you.”

“Go, Sergeant,” Fell Flight addressed her next. “I thank you for your words, undeserving though I now feel of them. But for the sake of our alliance with the Nightborne, ‘tis what must be.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.” Blindside deflated and hung her head as she turned and walked off. Tailwind waited for her to return to formation before he continued. “You have heard all the evidence, Captain. Do you require time to consider this matter?” he asked Shady.

“I do not. For I have already heard all I need to and decided on my verdict. Master Sergeant Firefly and Master Sergeant Fell Flight, stand to receive judgment!” she instructed, causing us to be yanked forward towards her.

She pinned us with her stare, which ‘twas no less intimidating for being behind her namesake spectacles; in fact, methinks ‘twas more unnerving to not be able to see her gaze and read her eyes.

She then spoke into her loudspeaker crystal again. “Master Sergeant Firefly! Master Sergeant Fell Flight! I find you guilty on all counts, and I regret that I am not moved by the words of your adjutant or the loyalty of your soldiers. For you are hardly alone in the losses you suffered. Indeed, all aboard this ship can claim equal injury, from losing a third of our air wing in the Epsilon rescue mission to the instant death of our many friends and comrades on board the Duty,” she reminded us.

“By turning my ship into a battlefield—and worse, my sickbay!—you not only dishonored their sacrifice as well as yourselves, but you also conducted this ill-thought duel in front of honored guests whose alliance we very much need!” She paused to look out over the Nightborne, who I could not then see. What I could hear from them was decidedly negative, though.

She then turned her hidden eyes back on us. “I was told to remind the Lunar Council that the Royal Navy has not forgotten Princess Luna’s Code of Naval Conduct, and so I will. But may all listening know that my decision is not influenced by that, for I would impose an equally severe punishment for any member of my own crew without any audience for such flagrant and far-reaching affronts as these.”

She lowered her head and peered at us over her shades for a moment; for the first time I saw genuine rage in her gaze.

‘Twas then that I learned that the Navy did indeed still impose corporal punishment. “First, I sentence you both to twelve lashes to the wingbase and flight muscles, six per side. You will then spend the next three days in the brig on hay and water, followed by a week of serving belowdecks as simple crewponies,” she informed us, causing my insides to clench at the first part of the sentence, which I knew would result in crippling pain.

‘Tis no doubt Shady knew it too, but she wasn’t done yet. “During that time, I will order that you perform the worst of our maintenance tasks, including cleaning the heads or disposing of their waste. You will do everything you are told without question or backtalk. You will perform to the satisfaction of your overseers. You will perform these punishment duties together. And there will be no more incidents between you.” I could see the muscle movement that indicated her eyes were narrowing, even though they remained hidden behind her shades.

“If and only if your behavior has been satisfactory, will I allow you both a single daily visit with your son and mentor. If and only if your behavior has been exemplary over those ten days will I return your ranks and armor at the end of your sentence, allowing you to resume command of the Loyalty’s Aerial Corps contingent. If not…”

She paused and glowered. “If not, then I will direct that you be removed from my ship, turning you over to Captain Typhoon for further punishment and possible court-martial. Are these terms understood?” she asked us shortly.

“Yes, ma’am,” we replied as one.

“Good. Sentence will be carried out immediately, starting with the lashes. The Mare-at-Arms will perform the duty. As is traditional, the lowest ranked member will receive theirs first, which due to service hierarchy is Master Sergeant Fell Flight. Master Starpony?” she then addressed Cutlass Cleave.

“Bind her legs to the deck. Then strip her uniform and stretch out her wings. Let her feel all the pain that she has so richly earned,” Captain Shady said coldly, though ‘tis certain from the way she pushed her dark glasses more firmly onto her nose to hide her eyes that she took no pleasure in giving the orders.

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” Methinks the well-armed mare was only too glad to carry out those instructions, directing that Fell Flight’s legs be secured to holes in the deck. Once they were, the uniform and rank insignia that my second was so proud of were unceremoniously ripped from her torso, revealing her battered body fully, and then unicorn auras tugged her wings wide to bare her sensitive flight muscles.

‘Twas clear she was still in pain anyway, but she refused to cry out as the rough treatment reopened some of her wounds. My lip curled when I heard some of the whispered comments of the Lunar Council, including their General saying he didn’t expect a ‘Highborne half-breed as her’ to last more than a single lash before crumpling and begging for mercy.

If I heard him, ‘twas no doubt Fell Flight did as well. “Before I carry out the Captain’s sentence, know that you are allowed at least a small measure of pain mitigation. Do you wish for a blindfold, Master Sergeant?” Cutlass Cleave asked her in contempt; the cold gleam in her eye told me she’d done this before and even enjoyed it. “Or perchance a bit to bite on? Both are allowed.”

“No,” Fell Flight replied despite the ongoing humiliation she was suffering. “My sole request is that you turn me to face the Nightborne so they may see how much pain a ‘Highborne half-breed’ can take,” she hissed out the words.

The Mare At Arms glanced up to the Captain, who nodded once. “As you wish.” A minute later, the scene was set, and her punishment began. Wielded by the Mare-at-Arms, the whip cracked hard against Fell Flight’s side, flaying her wingbase and flight muscles, sending spatters of blood and shreds of fur and feathers flying forth as even the underlying skin was pulled off.

I grimaced with every strike, knowing I was shortly facing all that as well. But to Fell Flight’s credit, she stayed stoic and didn’t make a sound as the lashes were delivered, keeping her eyes fixed on the bat-ponies watching them. I am not certain, but I believe she locked gazes with the Nightborne general who had slandered her, given how his expression slowly fell—how his smugness gradually gave way to surprise, then astonishment, and then a grudging respect; methinks there were even some expressions of pity on the faces of a few thestrals by the end.

Still, ‘tis no question her pain was horrific as she clenched her jaw and trembled violently as a dozen bloody welts added up on her wingbase and flight muscles.

To her immense credit, she managed to stay upright until the very end when her legs gave out and she toppled forward, her ability to fly destroyed for at least the next week. The Nightborne were silent as they saw her whisked away; methinks she earned the admiration of all watching for her incredible pain tolerance and refusal to so much as utter a single sound.

If Cutlass Cleave was impressed, she made sure not to show it as she simply stepped back and smartly jerked the whip into a reel that wrapped itself loosely around her neck. “Take her to the brig. Cleanse her wounds and seal the worst of them with stitches. But do not heal or numb them,” Father directed the two healers present, then his jaw clenched. “Now bring forth Master Sergeant Firefly! Bind her legs and turn her to face the Lunar Council.”

Within a minute, I’d been thrown roughly to the deck and my armor ripped from me. Having already witnessed it, I had expected that humiliation—the symbolic stripping of my station as I was reduced to a simple prisoner who had no rights or rank. What I did not expect was the words of my Father to follow:

“Master Starpony! Give your whip to me. I will administer the lashes personally,” he ordered a surprised Cutlass Cleave as I, too, gave him a shocked look. But instead of addressing me, he turned to the assembled Nightborne.

“For those of you who do not know, Master Sergeant Firefly is my adopted daughter,” he announced, eliciting some sounds of surprise and even an open jaw or two. “And thus, as both her superior and her sire, her punishment should belong to me. With your approval, that is, Captain.” He then turned to Shady and stood to attention.

Captain Shady nodded gravely. “As you wish, Commander Tailwind. On the condition that you do not go easy on her.”

His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. “With due respect, you misunderstand my intentions, Captain. I am requesting the whip to make sure she feels every lash as keenly as possible. So she knows that by her actions she not only forsook her duties and honor, but her very sire.”

“So be it,” Shady replied shortly. “Administer her punishment, Commander.”

‘Twas then my turn as father accepted the whip and grasped it in his good wing, giving it an experimental crack that pierced the air beside me and stung my ear painfully with its sound alone.

“Father…” I called to him shakily, tears already starting to well in my eyes. I’d faced down Ravens and flown through superstorms, survived combat with centuries of soldiers, been struck by lightning bolts and endured many broken bones. And yet, all of that paled in comparison as I beheld the harsh eyes of my adoptive sire, whose gaze bored into mine.

“Be silent. And know that you brought this upon yourself, daughter,” Tailwind admonished me, anger and sorrow in his gaze. “As First Officer of this airship, I can neither pity you nor hold back. But as your father, this will hurt me as much as you!” he proclaimed as the whip in his wing lashed out in anger for the first time, striking me beneath my stretched-out side.

To my great shame, I couldn’t stop myself from crying out as each of the twelve lashes landed, six to each side, evenly split between my wingbase and flight muscles. But ‘twas not from the pain, which ‘twas certain was as agonizing as anything I’d ever endured to that point, even counting Windshear breaking my wing and the worst of the wounds Fell Flight had dealt me.

‘Twas from the knowledge that I had disappointed my mentor, my Captain, and the very stallion who had invited me to call him sire, seemingly destroying all their respect for me in a single ill-thought hour.

I remember little of what happened after, save that I was dragged to the brig in a haze of pain, ready to pass out as I was dumped in a separate cell beside Fell Flight’s.

And yet, ‘twasn’t over yet as first our wounds were cleansed—with several buckets of cold salt water, which were thrown over us both, all but setting our whip wounds afire—and then the worst of our gashes were sewn shut without any anesthetic whilst we could only lie there and take it; even our twitches restrained by healer auras we were no longer capable of resisting.

As there was nopony left to impress, neither of us was able to keep from crying out this time. We were then left in a dank and dreary brig cell with little more than a sawdust-filled sack paired with a moth-eaten blanket for a bed, whilst our provisions consisted of a bucket of water and some half-rotted hay. ‘Twas all I could do after to crawl to the pail and drink, tears still streaming down my face.

Methinks I had taken worse, from the at-times endless agony of basic to being struck by a full-strength lightning bolt. And yet, never was the emotional pain I suffered as great as ‘twas then…

Save for one, even worse occasion in the Battle of Canterlot to come. But that, like so many other stories, lies in the future. I will lay down the pen for now, as methinks that recounting this tale has taken nearly as big a toll on me as it did then to endure it. And yet, good would come out of it, including a restored friendship and the renewed respect of the Lunar Council for the Royal Navy.

I was aware of none of it then, and would not be for some time. But lest readers think the Sun and Moon Goddesses had completely forsaken me, methinks there was a strong salve for my wounds. It came in the form of news delivered to me that night by Blindside, who watched the entire ordeal unfold with tears in her eyes.

Gavian had awoken and was asking to see me.

—Firefly

Greetings, Captain. Having received this section to read over in Arnau courtesy of the same courier who delivered your latest letter to Gavian, I must offer my respect and approval for relating such a difficult tale whilst taking pains not to honey-coat either your role in it or the immense pain it caused you.

‘Twas no doubt an incredibly difficult tale to tell, and methinks I now understand just why you have been so reluctant to discuss what happened during your gap in action early in the war. Though I’m sure your old wounds now feel as much steeped in salt as when you first received them, ‘twould perchance interest you to know that such manner of painful punishments were oft administered in the Empire as well.

‘Tis certain that breaches of military discipline were oft dealt with quite harshly in Imperial times. Even Talaeus were known to receive them on occasion, though ours oft demanded the offender fight for his very life if he wished to remain in service. Unfortunately, such strict standards our soldiers were expected to follow also proved a double-edged sword at times.

The effect was to discourage commanders and soldiers from taking chances not explicitly ordered, or to go against doctrine even when the situation seemed to demand it. Whatever the Prelate’s faults, ‘twas something he did try hard to correct, and a renewed acceptance of soldiers taking their own initiative ‘twould serve us well late in the war as well as the Dragon Lord Diabla conflict to come.

I will not linger in this matter, however, as ‘tis no doubt you are anxious to leave it behind. So I will simply say that I do consider your punishment justified, awful though I’m sure it was to experience. And based on what I know, ‘twould seem it went a long way towards helping win over the Nightborne whose alliance you sought. But I will leave that for you and your father to tell.

—Ambassador Layan Kaval

Invasion Advancing

Headquarters bunker
Eagle Aerie Supply Base
Outside Cirrus Cassida
September 6th, 1139 AC
1015 hours

Two days into our second offensive, the results were generally promising.

By taking the towns of Moonglow and Starlight, the northern drive of Sub-Consul Romulus had cracked the third line of Equestrian defenses and pushed almost to the shores of the Celestial Sea; she also reported that she had brought the Princess’s namesake fortress of Celestial City on its northeast shores under attack, and with barely more than a reinforced regiment defending it, she now expected it would fall within a day.

She also claimed that she could seize the Ursa Naval Base along with the critical Shetlandian isthmus soon despite what looked like a hasty pony attempt to fortify its approaches; the Equestrians had quickly discerned what our new strategy was and were moving what formations they could to block it. Unfortunately for them, they did not have many troops in the area that could be used; the forces we saw looked like mostly hastily organized militia, though increasing numbers of pegasi from the Aerial Corps 4th Division were starting to appear over the front.

Further southeast, Maresk had been encircled but the ring around it had not been solidified; attempts to secure the retreat route southwest of the town had run into trouble. We were told only in passing that a surprisingly stubborn pony regiment had acted against orders to wrest from us an isolated hill that commanded a critical crossroads, and then held it even against a far more determined Talon attack later.

As a result, it had been estimated that at least a brigade and a half of pony soldiers had thus far slipped the trap. They had retreated southwest down what the ponies called the Harness Highway, though sub-Consul Keiling, who the Prelate had once described as a ‘competent but unimaginative commander’ he preferred to use on the defensive rather than on the attack, insisted he would have the road between the dry seabeds cut further west by nightfall, thus pocketing resistance on the hill as well.

Though annoyed at the delay and failure to cut it sooner, the Prelate did not reprimand him as the sub-Consul’s original plan of a sweeping, much deeper pincer attack that terminated at Melody simply proved impossible. ‘Twas due to a reason not foreseeable as, to our surprise, the ‘dry’ seabeds proved anything but dry—they were extremely swampy and thus impassable to both ground forces and supply trains, whilst their width meant that earth gryphons could not overfly them.

Worse, the Diamond Dogs reported that they could not tunnel under them without going very deep, otherwise any tunnels they made would quickly collapse or flood. The end result was a much shallower encirclement that left open a narrow corridor between the two seabeds down which the ponies could escape.

Even further south, the going through the Northern Appleachians was slow given the narrow passes and stubborn resistance by well-entrenched Equestrian Army units—passes we needed to transport supplies and heavy weapons—but some progress had been made. On the border, Outpost Gamma alone remained defiant, and to the Prelate’s great annoyance, was tying up more than a legion of soldiers. But siege engines were finally moving up; they would begin a bombardment of the fortress-like base within two days.

We had also received a warning from the Office of Owls that the ponies were attempting to bring the Nightborne into the war on their side. They had even presented a plan of attack to them intended to cut off and destroy the Talon legions driving south through the province of Pristinia, involving three Thestralslovakian divisions working in concert with two Equestrian Army ones.

Primarch Livia Cassius Janus predictably pounced at the news, claiming that his refusal to attack the Nightborne immediately had invited such a strike. But the Prelate only replied that their entry in the war remained uncertain, and he saw no real danger in it anyway.

“By all means, let them attack,” he told me privately later with a thin smile. “For they will be flying headlong into a trap of their own.”

He did not elaborate in the Primarch’s presence, but I knew him well enough to tell he wasn’t just making airs—he genuinely did not fear such a move, and thus, he seemingly took no precautions against it, ordering the southern legions to continue their advance.

He did, however, dispatch seaborne reinforcements towards the area, and ‘twas from that I gained an inkling of what he was planning. We had no less than two legions afloat on transports in the area of what ponies call the Dolphin islands, where they had been prepositioned to support the southern drive, and mayhap even open a second front against the Campelonian provinces.

Their orders were to wait for our first dispatched airship group from the Imperial Navy to catch up to them, and then head at maximum speed for the coastline. The sudden arrival of those troops and the supporting airships would quickly turn any pony trap against them, as their assaulting Equestrian Army forces could themselves be cut off by two fresh Talon legions and four airships descending on their rear in turn.

I kept silent on the matter, however, not wishing to give an as-yet ignorant Primarch any hint of what was coming. ‘Twas no doubt that the Prelate was actually counting on her to complain loudly to the Empress that he was deliberately ignoring a threat to our advance, at which point the subsequent news that his sprung trap had destroyed the Equestrian counterattack and crippled the Nightborne in the process would make her look like a fool.

The Prelate was also impatient to get his mobile headquarters reestablished so he could keep watch on operations closer to the front, which was now steadily being forced back. We were promised ‘twould be ready within two days, as his reorganized and occasionally replacement staff geared up to support him, and this time, there would be sufficient sentries and defenses set to prevent another raid on his bunker like the one we had suffered the first day.

For now, however, we were still supervising the flow of forces into the theater from Cirrus Cassida. And even five full days after the start of the war, we were still debriefing first-day operations. It had taken nearly a week, but we had finally fully recovered the remnants of the deep-strike force we had sent to destroy Fort Spur.

Readers may recall that ‘twas an operation I had personally planned and selected the Talaeus commander for. And now I had to learn just what had gone wrong, and why less than forty percent of the two and a half centuries of elite Knights and Ravens we had dispatched to raze the base were returning.

To say nothing of why one of my most skilled and trusted Talaeus was dead.

“’Twas going like clockwork, at least at first,” the raid’s senior NCO, First Spear Oralis Peritus reported. She had been personally selected for her post by Centurion Pylea; methinks I had wondered more than once whether her appointment was due to her ability or their rumored romantic relationship.

“We met our initial objectives quickly. We swept into the base and destroyed their storm cloud cache early, pinning the trainers and recruits near the armory—based on their level of preparation, ’twould seem they were forewarned we were coming by at least a few minutes as they were hastily arming the recruits for battle.” Her words elicited a frown from the Prelate, who glanced at me as the First Spear went on.

“The Centurion then challenged Sergeant Major Windshear to single combat, and he accepted. I thought ‘twould be over quickly, but ‘twas not—‘tis certain I never thought I’d see the day that a pony stallion could stand against her!” She shivered and a tear appeared in her eyes briefly, but she choked it back.

“I did not hear all of their words, but after their initial exchanges ended in a draw, the Sergeant Major told her she was treating this like a game. To which she replied that if ‘twas war we fought, ‘twas war she would give him. She then ordered our mages to create a fire tornado and aim it at the armory. They did so, and the storm smashed it despite the best efforts of their pegasi to prevent it. As they could not, they lost their redoubt, along with a fifth of their force.”

“And then what happened?” ‘Tis worth noting that the written report we had received from her already explained all this, but the Prelate much preferred to hear it directly. It enabled him to read his underlings; to pick out lies and omissions that might otherwise escape notice on a piece of parchment.

She shivered once more. “I know not, as the battle had begun anew. But then when I turned back, I witnessed the Sergeant Major plunging into the inferno with Centurion Pylea held in a death grip. He then used his pegasus power to tear the tornado apart from within, sacrificing himself to slay her and save his base.” She had to gather herself before continuing, though the Prelate took no offense. Even if he didn’t know about the two of them, ‘twas certain to me he could tell from her reactions alone.

Finally, she spoke again, declining the Prelate’s offer of tea. “As awful as ‘twas to witness, methinks ‘twas a deed worthy of remembrance, and the Equestrians took heart from it. Despite that, I immediately took command and attempted to complete the base’s destruction. But we were eventually undone by some very… unorthodox tactics, as well as the arrival of not one but two relief forces,” she recounted.

“The first was from civilians in the nearby town, which turned out to have a large number of retired Guardspony and other veterans who were more than willing to fight. They donned their old armor and organized themselves well before entering the fray. The second was two centuries of reinforcing Corps soldiers that caught us looking the wrong way and ended any chance of victory.”

“I see,” the Prelate nodded as I slowly absorbed her words. I had been convinced that Centurion Pylea could defeat the Sergeant Major in single combat, but my calculations had not considered that he might not be willing to complete the duel in the face of a renewed assault on his comrades and recruits, nor that he might be willing to sacrifice himself to save his base. “Your opinion, Tribune?”

“Yes. What do you think of your failed plan?” Janus needled me for a change. “You set out to avenge a stain on Talaeus honor and destroy the legend of a pony hero, Tribune? ‘Twould seem to me that your chosen warrior not only failed miserably in her task, but she only made that legend grow!”

My tail lashed. Methinks I must admit to a moment of anger and a desire to challenge her for slandering not just me but a fellow Talaeus, but the First Spear beat me to it.

“Shut your beak, you overstuffed Paladin peacock,” she trilled out the words to my surprise and at least a brief smile from the Prelate. Or perchance it should have been no surprise if ‘twas true she was Pylea’s lover that she would defend her good name. “And do not insult the Centurion’s honor in my presence. ‘Twas not the Tribune’s plan, or her skill that failed.”

Janus gave a warning trill of her own, lowering her head and ruffling her feathers. “How dare you speak to me of honor when you not only failed in your mission, but fled the field in disgrace!”

“Fled?” The First Spear’s wings flared in ire as she stalked up to the much larger Primarch, ‘twas clear she was ready to throw down the gauntlet and issue a challenge herself. “I continued the assault for as long as I thought there was a chance for victory, not wishing the Centurion’s sacrifice to be in vain! But after an hour of fighting we were exhausted and newly outnumbered by the Corps force that crippled us! To stay would have been to sacrifice our lives for nothing!”

“Then at least in death you might have redeemed your honor! For in the end, you were defeated by what? A few sorry civilians? Or some half-trained Guardspony Recruits?” the Primarch sneered out the words. “If ’twas me leading that force, methinks the base and town would have been razed and I would be standing before you in triumph!”

This time, I couldn’t resist. “If ‘twas you leading the attack, methinks our entire force would be lost and your head would now be a fresh trophy on the Sergeant Major’s wall.” ‘Tis certain I had heard about all I could stomach from her, hoping that the Prelate would assign her an attack to command soon so she would be slain leading it.

“Silence,” the Prelate said softly but sharply; I knew that tone of voice meant that he was in no mood for backtalk. We then waited as he drummed his talons on his desk.

“Having heard the evidence, I regret I am inclined to at least partially agree with the Primarch, Tribune. I consider this defeat a failure of planning on at least two points, and Centurion Pylea’s decision to renew the assault whilst the duel continued was also in error. She should have slain the Sergeant Major first and let that blow to pony morale be felt. Instead, her actions only renewed it and gave him no reason to continue to fight her. But every reason to do whatever he had to in order to slay her—even sacrificing himself.”

“My Lord.” I bowed my head, not denying it. For I knew of what two points he spoke of, having cataloged them myself—I had failed to account for the large retired military presence in the nearby town, putting it off-limits to attack, and also failed to guard against Aerial Corps intervention.

The former was because I had personally promised the Sergeant Major an honorable duel all those years ago after his slaying of the rogue Talaeus Miyal Calea, in which he told me that he would brook no threats to civilians. The latter was because I calculated the attack would be over and done before the nearest Corps forces could intervene.

‘Twas terribly wishful thinking, as for them to arrive within an hour of the attack starting, Corps reinforcements would have had to be dispatched even before our attack went in. Meaning they’d been alerted and were already on the way despite our best efforts to block communications from Canterlot and the border.

Thus, there was nothing I could do except admit to my shortcomings. “’Tis as you say, Prelate. I made not one but two glaring oversights in neither holding down the town nor guarding against an Aerial Corps appearance. One was due to putting honor before military necessity. The other was due to an invalid assumption I should have known better than to make. On my honor as the Tribune of the Talaeus, I will learn from my errors and remember these lessons well.” I stood to attention and saluted, baring my throat hard in apology.

He stared at me, then returned the honor and nodded; I have no doubt that if I offered any form of defense to him then, he would not have hesitated to punish me despite our long association. “Then at least you spotted your mistakes and made no excuses for them. You honorably took responsibility, so I will let this go with nothing more than a reprimand,” he decided, to which the Primarch frowned.

The Prelate then turned his attention to the Knight eagless. “And as for you, First Spear, I find that the Primarch’s criticisms are not warranted. ‘Twould seem you led your force well in the Centurion’s absence, and despite all our losses and facing unorthodox tactics, you still nearly carried the day. I thus promote you to Centurion in her place.” He nodded to his aides, who immediately left to get the requisite armor pieces and insignia.

“What?” the Primarch was as shocked as Pylea was surprised. “Bad enough that you do not punish your adjutant, but now you reward failure?”

He gave her an icy stare. “I reward taking command under difficult circumstances and dealing with each threat effectively as it came, as well as recognizing when the cause was lost and ‘twas time to leave. We need experienced combat commanders who can keep their head about them, not one less. Now reap the rewards of your service, Wind Knight of the Empire!” he turned to the no-longer First Spear again, who instantly came to attention as his aides returned, presenting the new armor pieces in their beaks.

At the Prelate’s nod, I took the pieces and affixed them to her, giving her a much better helm, metal vambraces, and shoulder protection as well as gold-tinted metallic graves to shield her throat. I saved the insignia for last, attaching them to her pauldrons, then stepped back. “Stand tall and continue to honorably serve the Empire, Centurion Peritus!” Gaius invited.

“For Empress and Honor,” she gave the ritual response and waited to receive the salutes of all present—‘tis worth noting that promotion is one of only two occasions in the Empire when a higher rank will salute a lower one—and then took her leave after requesting a new command commensurate with her rank with a bared throat.

He nodded respectfully. “I will assign one to you shortly, Centurion, once I determine where an officer of your caliber is most needed. In the meantime, rest,” he invited, to which she left with a parting salute.

“Disgraceful,” the Primarch pronounced after she exited. “The Empress will hear of this!”

“Then by all means, tell her,” he said sullenly, and methinks she’d used that threat so often it had lost any possible effect on him. “But unless she orders me otherwise, I will not hesitate to reward or punish our soldiers as I see fit. And that does include you, Primarch,” he reminded her, then went up to her.

“You are increasingly trying me. Question or even insult me if you wish, but you may not do so in front of others. To do so is to undermine my authority and publicly question my honor.”

She glared down at him, then smiled. “Have you forgotten I am the eyes of the Empress, Prelate? By her command, I am allowed to stay in your presence and say whatever I wish.”

“Unless you spill sensitive information or otherwise interfere with war operations. And if you keep it up, I might just consider you disparaging me before underlings to be such interference,” he warned her. “It is corrosive to discipline and morale.”

She sneered. “And do you truly think the Empress would accept such a feeble reason?”

“Continue provoking me, and ‘tis certain we will find out,” he told her coolly. “By my order, you will hold your tongue in the presence of others, or we will settle our differences sooner rather than later. I already promised you the chance to lead your forces into battle, so if you wish to keep it, mind your words and your manners.”

The Primarch was unrepentant. “Threaten me all you like, Prelate. It changes nothing. For I fully intend to duel you, but only after your grand strategy inevitably fails,” she informed him icily. “At which point I will slay you to take your rank and command of this invasion, and then lead it to victory.”

He glared at her. “Over my dead body.”

“If you insist,” she said with an unpleasant grin, then flared her large wings in warning. “Your day is coming, Prelate. I strongly advise you not to hasten your end.”

As I conclude this entry, it strikes me that there was an undeniable difference between the situation you faced, Captain, where you ended up severely punished despite your considerable ability and accomplishments, whilst the Prelate had to hold back on punishing a disrespectful subordinate for political reasons and tread very carefully around her.

And though ‘tis hardly on the same level as what you suffered, even his mild rebuke of my planning did sting, for the very same reason—it came from one I saw as a father. I would take great pains not to disappoint him again, but I fear in time, ‘twould be me and not him that would be disappointed.

I will have a final update to post from the gryphon side of the Maresk campaign later, upon my return from the Kingdom. But until then, I would at least note that the name of Rock Biter and his dangerously stubborn defenses would not reach the Prelate for some time.

For though the future General was in large measure responsible for extracting some two millennia of sorely needed pony troops from the Maresk encirclement, he was still just a simple regimental commander whose actions were, at the time, merely a slightly annoying footnote in the larger campaign.

‘Tis fortunate for him and the pony side that was the case. For had it been otherwise, ‘tis certain he would have been targeted for Raven assassination far sooner, and likely successfully.

—Prelate Layan Kaval (ret.)
Ambassador to Equestria
Gryphon Kingdom Consulate
Canterlot

I have shared your words with him, old friend, to which he only smiled and said ‘twas fortunate in turn he made as many mistakes as he did early on, else he might have gained that notice sooner when he was far less protected. ‘Twould interest you to know that he has expressed a desire to meet you, as I believe he has trouble comprehending how you and I could be such good friends after all the battles we fought.

Thank you for your words of balm as well. And to all who read this and wonder how Fell Flight and I recovered from such a near-mortal blow to our careers and psyches, I can only invite you to read on. I will simply say for now that the old adage is true—that sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can climb back up.

Such it would be here. Naval discipline and punishments under the ongoing guidance of the lost Princess Luna were unquestionably harsh, but methinks they also had an important attribute not oft found elsewhere.

Once those punishments were complete, your slate was considered clean.

—Firefly

“An angel who makes you cry is better than a devil who makes you smile.”

― Matshona Dhliwayo

Author's Note

Thanks go to Silentwoodfire, AJ_Aficionado and SIlverblade5 for the preread. And for those upset over what happened to Firefly and Fell Flight, I apologize, but keep in mind that this kind of thing was actually fairly typical back in the day.

Breaches of Naval discipline were dealt with very harshly in classical times, and Captain’s Masts are real, even to this day—I actually witnessed one during my long ago stint in Naval ROTC. In the modern navy, you could be imprisoned in the brig for up to three days on bread and water, confined to the ship for weeks, be busted up to two ranks and (I believe) have your pay docked as well if the Captain judges you guilty of various offenses.

Just remember that this story takes great pains to balance the bad with the good, so better times are ahead. They took their medicine, harsh though it was, and now they can come back better and stronger for it. And better yet, the Lunar Council now sees that the Royal Navy is still very much Luna’s service.

—Firesight

Second Offensive: 10 - A Warning Heeded

Greetings to all readers from Admiral Tailwind in Canterlot.

It has been, needless to say, a long five months for me since the surgery to restore the function of my useless right wing, with the interminably lengthy rehabilitation period following the procedure not helped by either my advancing age or my inability to resume my duties as commanding Admiral in any meaningful way.

Methinks I have finally had enough of it, and I have informed my healers that I will be leaving Canterlot now, intending to tour my bases and inspect my ships for the first time in half a year. I will do so before joining my daughters for Hearth’s Warming, which is now just four weeks away.

Wind Whistler is, to little surprise, less than happy with my decision, as are those healers who have taken so much time trying to loosen the muscles of my stubbornly stiff wing. I have regained a little more than half the mobility needed to attempt flight, enough to manage a few weak flaps, but each two-hour long healer session seems to produce less and less results as time goes by. As I seem to have hit a proverbial wall and am unable to push past it, I have decided to cease my physical therapy for now to give myself a much needed mental and emotional respite.

And yet, with regards to this story I have derived so much distraction and pleasure in writing for, there is none to be found right now as we have reached a point in its telling that neither Firefly nor myself enjoy. As I make for Royal Navy Base Capricorn at Stalliongrad this cold morn to visit with Commodore Shady, where I wish to inspect the first completed airship of the new and far faster Harpie-inspired Cutlass escort class, I feel compelled to offer up my own perspective on the events of that long ago day when I was forced to oversee a Captain’s Mast, and then carry out its sentence against my own beloved daughter.

—Admiral Tailwind
Commanding Admiral, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Polaris
Canterlot

SACRIFICE
Epic Sad Tragic & Dark Dramatic Orchestral Music Mix

EAS Loyalty
Chief Engineer’s quarters
Cloudsdale, Central District Airship Anchorage
September 5th, 1139 AC
1635 hours

The deed was done. And ‘twas certain there was no taking it back, ever.

My daughter had been judged and punished as per Princess Luna’s Code of Naval Conduct, and worse, I had wielded the whip that wounded her, both physically and emotionally.

‘Tis certain I was in agony as I did it, doubly so to hear her cries of pain that I knew even then were less due to the injuries I dealt her than her emotional anguish. ‘Tis no lie to say I was unfit for duty the rest of the day once the Nightborne had finally gone off to bed, at which point I returned to my temporary accommodations—as Captain Shady was residing in my quarters after surrendering hers to Captain Typhoon, I was now in those of Lieutenant Commander Flash Fix, who adorned his room with weapons and mementos of his Shetlandian homeland between the Celestial and Lunar Seas—with strict orders to not be disturbed for anything short of a gryphon attack.

‘Twasn’t as if I didn’t understand my daughter’s reaction to seeing her son endangered against her will. Given my own punishment-worthy outburst and assault on the character of Captain Shady during the approach to Epsilon, ‘twasn’t as if I was immune to it, either. But in my case, I’d had the Captain present to back me down hard and remind me of where my duty lay. And yet, looking back, I realized I had not done the same thing for Firefly. Some part of me simply told me not to, perchance sensing that she had to get this out of her system. But given the consequences, was that truly worth the cost?

I had no answers as I entered the room to discover that Flash Fix had left a bottle of his ship-brewed moonshine liquor for me along with two glasses. Accompanying them was a note that said he thought I might need it, and to find him if I wanted to talk. Methinks he was right as the first thing I did was pour a stiff drink and throw it back, wanting to numb myself as quickly as possible.

But ‘twould not be he who would speak to me, as I shortly heard the hooves of my sentries clicking together outside and an “Attention on deck!” call that meant a higher ranked officer than me was present. My visitor could therefore only be either Captain Typhoon or Captain Shady, and I leapt up to open the door, not even bothering to hide the bottle.

To my mild relief, ‘twas the latter, as I wasn’t sure I could have restrained myself from mouthing off to the Captain of the Royal Guard at that moment. “Captain,” I greeted her, standing in respect. “How may I serve?”

“By giving me some of that drink,” she immediately said to my surprise, nodding at my desk. “Flash Fix told me to come here, saying he’d left one of his newest brews for us. To hear him speak of it, he considers it medicinal.”

“We should be so lucky,” I said as I invited her in and poured us both a glass. ‘Twas both stronger and smoother than I remembered it from when I tried it on the foredeck on the eve of battle, which I supposed ‘twas the result of our new blonde-maned earth pony maintenance crew from Epsilon helping to rebuild his smashed still.

“So how do you feel?” she asked as I served her.

“With respect, Captain, just how am I supposed to feel?” I asked her more irritably than I meant to. Other than a single short nap I’d caught in transit to Hollow Shades, I’d been up for nearly thirty hours at that point, and between my emotional agony over whipping Firefly and the continued need to attend the Lunar Council, I suspected I wouldn’t be getting more for some time.

“My daughter lies a broken mare in the brig whilst my grandson remains near death in sickbay. And all for a duel the Captain of the Guard had no business ordering,” I finally voiced the thought I’d been keeping to myself the whole time. “Methinks I can understand her reaction to endangering Gavian, given I nearly challenged you to a duel over fear for their lives during our slow approach to Epsilon.”

She nodded as she levitated her drink and sipped at it, blinking once at its strength. “Our familial ties do not excuse ill-thought actions, Commander. I reminded you of that. So why did you not remind your daughter when you had the chance?” I heard a distinct note of rebuke in her voice.

“I know not,” I initially replied, then sighed. “Or mayhap I do. She has always been fiercely protective of her friends and loved ones, whether her sister or her adopted son. She was fighting for him in her eyes as much as Fell Flight was defending Thunderbolt, and methinks for me to stop them ‘twould only have delayed that explosion, not prevented it. ‘Tis certain their timing was bad, but better to be seen by the Lunar Council than have it happen in the midst of battle.”

Shady said nothing as she topped off my drink, perchance letting me vent. “Mayhap I rationalize, but right now, methinks I find myself as wounded as her. Part of me wishes to yank her out of the brig and hug her, whilst another part demands that I march down the hall to your quarters and challenge Captain Typhoon to a death duel for setting this whole ugly affair in motion, forcing me to flog my own daughter. Even though I know I would lose.”

“Understandable,” she agreed as she picked up the bottle to top off our drinks again. “For what ‘tis worth, ‘twould seem the Nightborne were impressed by our Luna-esque discipline—I was actually complimented in how I dealt with this matter by General Starry Skies himself—and I have spoken with Captain Typhoon since the Mast. Do not think for a moment he is unaware of his role in this and that he bears his own share of blame for it,” she told me tiredly as she raised the glass to her lips again, taking a longer draw.

“But nor does he regret it. He says we need Thunderbolt, and for Gavian to duel and defeat him ‘twas the only way to possibly reclaim him,” she added, though ‘twas certain I could hear the skepticism in her voice. “I know ‘tis cold comfort, but he admits he may have made this inevitable, and that he did greatly underestimate your daughter’s ire.”

‘Twas a skepticism I very much shared. “’Tis no comfort at all. And after seeing that vile stallion attempt to slay Gavian not once but twice, to say nothing of hearing such horrific hatred coming from his muzzle, methinks I have a very hard time believing that a lost soul like him could be of any use to us.”

“To hear the soldiers speak who were here to witness it, he did save Cloudsdale,” Shady reminded me as she started into her second drink. “’Tis said he held off or slew many hundreds of Imperial soldiers by himself. And to see him last night, methinks I could believe it.”

“Mayhap you are right. But still, ‘twould seem we gain but one powerful but highly unstable soldier at the cost of two far more honorable and effective ones, never mind the young life that may have been sacrificed to save him. So how, by the sacred moon of Luna herself, am I supposed to—” There was a hard and rapid knock on the door, followed by it opening to reveal the form of the Mare-at-Arms, looking uncharacteristically nervous

“Commander! Captain! Beg to report,” Cutlass Cleave began, but she trailed off at the silent stares she received.

“I left strict orders not to be disturbed for anything less than an Imperial attack, Master Starpony,” I told her icily, and ‘twas certain the Captain’s glare was just as baleful as mine. “Is there one underway?”

Recognizing our foul mood, she snapped to attention, hard. “My sincerest apologies, Captain and Commander. There is no attack, but this cannot wait until morning. For I have just received word from the sentries outside sickbay… that Thunderbolt has disappeared!”

A suitably ominous ending, Admiral, for a day I’m sure you wish you could forget as much as Captain Firefly. I never knew Thunderbolt; never once met him except in passing a month later when he led the force that saved the defenders of Detrot, slaying two Talaeus to do it.

For myself, I had no herd or children back then, let alone any in the military—even today, I have successfully dissuaded them all from enlisting. So I cannot even pretend to know how much it pained you to do this. ‘Tis not that I ever hesitated to severely discipline underlings, even high-ranking ones, but methinks the methods of my service branch in dealing with such things were far more… informal.

Unlike the Navy, the Equestrian Army did not practice corporal punishment like that—at least, not officially. But ‘tis certain the successful commander was more than willing to use the back of his hoof or flat of his blade to make his displeasure known, and ‘twas also necessary that said commander be both eager and able to duel in order to enforce his will on a reluctant unit.

Methinks I would have to fight a few of the latter before all was said and done over my decisions and losses, starting that very morn atop Harness Hill.

—Rock Biter

Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
0715 hours

“What do you mean, you are in command of the brigade?” asked an angry Lieutenant Colonel Sand Dune, the recently elevated leader of the third brigade’s first regiment, so-named because ‘twas said he had been born on the drifting dunes of Cape Halteras in North Campelonia. “On whose authority?” he demanded to know, his blazing blue eyes almost seeming to glow.

I kept my voice level and my glare steely before the hot-tempered earth pony stallion, who was at least twelve years my junior. ‘Twas but ten minutes after the end of the last attack and I was still trying to get my hilltop defenses reset and my new brigade rapidly reorganized, molding four depleted regiments—it turned out that a regiment from a neighboring brigade had joined the attack after their brigade commander was slain and they were no longer receiving orders—into three combat-worthy ones again before the next Imperial attack arrived. This included appointing replacement commanders and shuffling battalions to try to even out regimental numbers.

‘Twas a task made doubly difficult by the challenge to my authority from 3rd brigade’s only other surviving regimental commander than myself. “On the authority of Brigadier General Bamboo Blade, Lieutenant Colonel. ‘Twas her final order to appoint me to her post before she passed.” I showed him the order signed shakily in the General’s muzzlewriting.

“Then methinks she was either insane or delirious from blood loss! I am the senior surviving commander, as you should already have been removed from your post!” He released steam from his nose with his snort.

I glared at him; under any other circumstances, ‘tis certain I would order his arrest for gross insubordination on the spot. But as things stood, I needed experienced regimental commanders, and he was one of the few remaining. “I suggest you mind your tongue, Lieutenant Colonel. I assure you she was quite lucid, telling me that I had earned the post with my military acumen. You may ask the officers around me if you don’t believe me.” I motioned to my inherited staff, many of whom nodded solemnly, even angrily at having the word of their former brigade commander questioned.

“For what military acumen?” Ignoring them, he got in my face. “Abandoning your post? Defying orders from division? Losing half your regiment needlessly? Crippling the city’s rearward defenses and forcing us to make a desperate dash for safety after you exposed our lines of communication?” he recited.

Methinks I barely restrained myself from striking him, hard. “Are you daft, Lieutenant Colonel? I saved our lines of communication! And I remind you again that I am now your superior! So hold your tongue or be relieved!” I didn’t want to, but he was making it very hard for me not to.

“And may I remind you that Major General Breech Lock herself ordered you relieved and arrested! So by her authority, step down, sir! I am taking command of 3rd brigade and placing you into custody!” He signaled his sentries to step forward, only to be met by an even stronger force of my own.

“Hold!” I shouted at my remaining headquarters staff, who methinks were in no mood for this after suffering the loss of half their number in the hilltop battle. To their credit, they had fought bravely and desperately against the heavily armored and well-trained Fortis Knights; replacing them with surviving soldiers from the ranks was a task that could take a day but had to be completed within minutes after the battle.

Methinks their bloodied appearances and glinty looks gave the newcomers some pause, as perchance did my own unrepentant glare. “I will not surrender command or submit myself to arrest, Lieutenant Colonel. Nor will I brook your insubordination! If you will not obey my orders, then I will replace you with somepony who will.”

“A duel, then!” he tried again. “I challenge you to single combat for command of the brigade!”

Methinks I nearly smacked my head with my hoof hard enough to crack bone. Of all the outdated traditions of the Equestrian Army, ‘twas certain to me that wartime dueling ‘twas the most idiotic of all. “‘Tis not the—”

“‘Tis exactly the time! For my soldiers will not follow you, sir! Not after your actions cost us the entire Corps!”

I turned and glared at him. “Very well, Lieutenant Colonel. The gryphons may strike again at any moment and overcome us thanks to your stubbornness and supreme stupidity, but as I require your regiment’s obedience, I will indulge you. The terms are very simple: If you win, you take command of the brigade and I submit myself to your arrest. But if I win, you accept my command and order your regiment to do the same. And since I am the challenged party, I remind you that I get to set the terms of combat.”

“I accept! And the terms of combat are?” he asked gleefully. “Do you wish to fight with axe, sword, or crossbow, sir?” He dripped scorn on the title.

Methinks I grinned evilly, intending to wipe that eager smile right off his face. “I choose incendiary gems at two paces. So tell me, how fast can you dodge a point-blank crystal attack, Lieutenant Colonel?”

His smile dropped and he paled mightily at my suggestion, which ‘twas a death sentence for us both. ‘Twould result in instant and quite agonizing incineration to have such a gem detonate anywhere near us, and with the pair of us starting so close, there was no chance for evasion. “Well? Do you accept these terms, Lieutenant Colonel? I await your answer.”

“Methinks you have no honor,” he replied weakly.

I rolled my eyes, hard. “And methinks my honor is irrelevant. Unlike you or the gryphons, I care not about such idiocy, only victory! Now do you accept or surrender?” I prompted again, then turned to my staff, who were all bearing equally evil grins; my new brigade communications officer, Captain Gray Rider, took it upon herself to charge two spare gems with a firestorm spell before she floated them up between us.

I accepted mine, which was glowing orange with barely contained flame; I then casually tossed it into the air a couple times before him, causing him to flinch. For were I to drop or fumble it, the consequences could be disastrous for everypony within six paces. “Your challenge was made before witnesses, Lieutenant Colonel, as was your acceptance of the terms of winning. Your choices are therefore simple: you may either fight the duel as directed, or you may forfeit it to keep your life and your command,” I reminded him again, letting him hear my contempt.

Though ‘twas certain he looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue along with his pride, he chose the latter. “I surrender.”

“So ‘twould seem you at least have some sense. Then by the agreed-on terms of the duel, get back to your regiment and obey orders! I want your battalions securing the crossroads with scouts sent out in all directions to provide early warning of approaching Imperials and to render assistance to retreating ponies. If any additional forces come from the Maresk pocket, help them reach the cover of Harness Hill! And be alert for possible gryphon combat drops into your trenches out of the sun. Now move!” I dismissed him, to which he left with an embarrassed flush and a parting glower.

If I may say, well-met indeed, General. Methinks you made your point superbly and deftly defused a challenge to your authority with your wits alone, which I would learn later was a necessity of a successful leader. Not only that, but you defeated and then co-opted a potential adversary without fighting, which has been said by the Sun Master himself to be the highest order of military skill.

But ‘tis not the only reason I comment now. I have received your invitation through my daughter for the surviving Bolt Knights and their families to spend Hearth’s Warming with your clan at your farm in Stalliongrad. ‘Tis an offer I wish to publicly accept on behalf of us both.

—Admiral Tailwind

Thank you for your kind words and your acceptance of my invitation, Admiral. I look forward to finally meeting you informally. I am truly sorry for the slow recovery of your wing, but perchance a change of pace and scene is what you need. Much like I have been surprised to discover was the case for me.

‘Tis worth noting I have offered the pen to Captain Firefly for some comment, but she has declined, saying she does not deserve to be heard from in this entry. Methinks she is still feeling the effects of having penned the unhappy events of the previous chapter, and not helping is that she also misses Gavian and Firehawk right now.

But at least she has her herdmates here to provide comfort, though I think she remains slightly annoyed with Stormrunner for so wholeheartedly agreeing that she was an idiot regarding the duel with Fell Flight. Nevertheless, she declines to contribute for now, wishing me to have the spotlight during a time in the story she feels herself completely unworthy of it.

—Rock Biter

Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
1055 hours

After Lieutenant Colonel Sand Dune’s departure, methinks I got in around three hours of additional reorganization and planning before another orderly approached at a full gallop, skidding to a stop before me. “Sir! An unfamiliar earth pony soldier has approached our picket line and is requesting to see you, saying he has urgent information about an impending gryphon attack. He’s quite agitated and covered in swamp muck. We’re holding him at the base of the hill.”

“Unfamiliar?” I said suspiciously, recalling that the Ravens were known to magically disguise themselves as ponies in order to get close to their targets. “Has he been—?”

“He is magically clean, Colonel,” a teleporting Errant Arrow answered as she appeared before me. She was my replacement operations officer, elevated from platoon leadership; I was told by her compatriots that she not only had a sharp mind, but was also a skilled caster who was deadly accurate with a bow despite her name. “I scanned him myself—no mind control gems or other spellwork detected. He says he’s seen where the Imperials are massing and knows where and when they will strike next,” she informed me.

Despite the newcomer being provably a pony, ‘twas certain that his claim only made me more suspicious given that such information sounded far too convenient—an attempt to lure us away from where the actual strike would fall or at least keep us looking in the wrong direction. ‘Twas a tactic even gryphon raider groups had been known to indulge in, using false claims of an attack to divert Corps and Army forces away from their intended target. And how would a single earth pony soldier have come across such intelligence in the first place?

Nevertheless, I ordered him brought to me under guard so I could interview him, once he’d been relieved of his weapons—which, oddly enough, included a longbow, which few earth ponies could wield.

Stripped of his arms but not the mud and swamp grasses caking his legs and torso, he recognized my rank and saluted me crisply, obeying orders to keep at least twelve paces away lest he detonate some hidden bomb on his body—we had reports that had been one means of assassination that mind-controlled drones in Canterlot had used to slay their targets.

I returned the salute perfunctorily. To my eyes, he looked like a fairly ordinary and nondescript earth pony, possessing a ruddy brown coat with fog-gray eyes. He wore not armor but an Equestrian Army day uniform, which suggested he’d been caught away from the front when the Empire attacked.

That, or he was fleeing and trying to speed his journey by discarding his armor, which would weigh him down and slow his escape. “Where is your unit, soldier?” I asked him. “And why are you out of armor in a battle zone?”

He fidgeted slightly, which didn’t help my suspicious mood. “M-my apologies, sir. I was on leave in Coltucky when the war broke out and was trying to reach my border unit, only to learn ‘twas destroyed. This is as far as I could get.”

I stared at him for a moment before replying. “You traveled all the way here from Coltucky in five days in an attempt to reach your border unit?” I exchanged a disbelieving look with my aides.

He fidgeted again. “Well, I—”

“Well, nothing. Methinks it far more likely that you deserted that unit and discarded your armor, attempting to masquerade as a civilian whilst trying to slip unnoticed down the Harness Highway. Unable to do so, you perchance hoped you could make it through the Heron Marshes only to find them impassable. So now you come to me with some unlikely tale meant to save your own hide?” I suggested coldly; ‘tis worth noting that I had already received a few reports of deserting soldiers attempting to pass my sentries.

‘Tis also worth noting that I was more than willing to order their instant execution, even then. For cowardice was a contagion, and barbaric though the idea may be to modern ponies, ‘twas simply best to cut it off at the source.

“No!” he insisted with wide eyes; mayhap he knew what I was indirectly threatening him with. “Colonel, please! I have not the time to explain how I got here or how I know this, but I am Corporal Bramble Tracker, soldier of the 1st pathfinder battalion, which was attached to the 4th Division! Methinks you can have the Army look me up and confirm I was on leave in Coltucky if you wish, but ‘tis certain it has to wait! For the gryphons are about to strike again much further west! If you don’t act immediately, ‘tis certain your entire force will be cut off and killed along with the rest of the Equestrian Army at Maresk!”

I exchanged another look with my staff. ‘Twas certain I didn’t believe him—for how could he possibly know that?—but an Imperial insertion further west was also a threat I couldn’t ignore. Indeed, it appeared from recent Aerial Corps recon flights that the gryphons were shortly going to make an attempt to cut the Harness Highway from the south, as they’d been able to take the north shore of the Eerie marshes and were massing several fresh cohorts in the area.

But as the ground over that potential attack avenue was very open, consisting of flat grasslands with little cover, ‘twas certain that they could be easily spotted and repulsed; 1st brigade had already oriented their defenses in that direction and their commander had assured me that they were ready for such a move, with an entire reinforced regiment dug into a two-layered trench. She had further stationed her unicorns not just for air defense but to teleport entire squads where needed, meaning they could quickly shift forces to reinforce a threatened sector.

Nor could they strike West in an attempt to cut the Highway when it turned south through Frontier Forest; if they tried, we’d already salted the area with well-hidden dug-in platoons and they’d be butchered in the woods. “Speak,” I told him, my tone of voice telling him to make it good.

He took a moment to gather himself before doing so. “A large force of earth and sky gryphon Talons two millennia strong are crossing the Heron Marshes from the north at this very moment! They intend to launch a surprise attack out of the Marshes directly, cutting the road between Yoke and Melody to thus pocket your entire brigade as additional forces sweep in from the south. Methinks you face a second set of pincers, sir! You must slip the trap now, before ‘tis too late!”

Now I was certain he was lying, perchance trying to trick me into abandoning the defense of the Hill; even if he wasn’t a griffon, ‘twas possible he had been bribed or blackmailed or magically brainwashed into passing false information. “Cross the Heron Marshes? Impossible!” I scoffed, ready to order his arrest for such a ludicrous idea on the spot.

He stared at me in disbelief. “’Tis not impossible! I swear before the sun itself that they are traversing the seabed even as we speak!”

Though he didn’t deserve an explanation, he got one anyway. “If you’re going to make up a story, at least make it believable, Corporal! Their earth gryphons have not the range to overfly the swamps, and their sky gryphons alone aren’t able to hold any ground they may seize, let alone expel heavily entrenched Equestrian Army regiments from Melody or Yoke.” Myself and Brigadier General Florid Flower, commander of 1st Brigade who had originally been assigned to guard the Army’s lines of communication to Maresk, had already distributed our forces to protect the Harness Highway behind the Hill, including and especially Yoke and Melody.

‘Twasn’t any particular genius on our part to recognize their importance; we knew full well that the capture of those towns would instantly cut the Highway and leave us as trapped as the forces at Maresk. And as Yoke seemed the more likely target given ‘twas closer to the front and had already endured at least one swiftly repulsed airborne attack, we’d stationed a reinforced regiment there with additional battalions guarding the approaches.

Methinks a strike into open ground to seize some section of the Highway between the two towns was also possible, but that would leave an unsupported force of Talons out in the open vulnerable to Equestrian Army counterattack—unless, that was, the insertion force was large enough and consisted of a proper mixture of sky, earth and mage gryphons. But how could it be when the earth gryphons they needed for ground combat couldn’t fly the distance?

“But sir—” he tried again.

“Silence!” I cut him off hard. I knew not if he was acting under duress, but the possibility was all that prevented me from ordering his instant death as a deserter. “Sergeant? Remove this lying malingerer from my sight and place him under arrest,” I ordered one of my surviving headquarters sentries.

“No!” the newcomer shouted frantically. “You don’t understand, Colonel! They aren’t flying here; they’re marching! They’ve reached but five miles out and are nearly ready to leap the remaining distance! Once they do, you will be trapped and won’t be able to break through! They are the anvil preceding the hammer that will crush your force once and for all!”

“You claim that they’re attempting to traverse the Heron Marshes by ground?” Tempered Steel asked over my shoulder with a derisive air; I’d moved him up to command of the original Daisy regiment and given him a brevet rank of Lieutenant Colonel in an attempt to forestall any challenges from the officers he’d jumped over in taking his new post.

But he’d earned it, and his twenty years of experience and demonstrated ability to both obey orders and keep his head about him counted for far more in my eyes than attending the Equestrian Officer Academy.

“If they’re that stupid, then ‘tis certain they’re as good as dead. For any high ground they found would be shifting and unstable, unable to support more than a few troops at once. And then there are the many marsh monsters, which are deadly to the unaware. Methinks if roving packs of Timberwolves, swamp serpents or large groups of rockadiles didn’t slay them, then the sinksands would snare them or the swamp gasses would quickly overcome them.”

But to my frustration, the newcomer had an answer for that as well. “None of those apply! Because their mages are simply freezing the ground in front of and around them to form a solid road, rendering it able to support their column and leaving them far less vulnerable to animal attack!” he explained quickly, eliciting some startled looks from my staff.

“They have already traversed nearly the entire distance across the dry seabed in this manner, Colonel! Methinks they started last night and now they have massed more than two millennia of soldiers but five miles from shore! They are nearly ready to strike into your rear!” he spoke more frantically, and to my great disconcertment, I did not get the impression he’d made that story up. His words were simply too fast, too fearful and desperate to be invented; nor did it at all sound rehearsed.

I stared at him, my confidence suddenly shaken. Even aside from his delivery, his story sounded disturbingly plausible. ‘Twould be a brilliant means of circumventing our defenses, allowing them to blindside us when most of our battle lines were oriented towards the south, leaving the north exposed. Worse, the gryphons knew full well by now that we couldn’t scout the not-so-dry seabeds by ground, and all the pegasi we had were concentrated over Harness Hill to assist the escape of additional soldiers and civilians from the Maresk pocket.

At least convinced he was not an assassin, I ignored the warnings of my sentries to walk up and go nose to nose with him, looking him in the eye. ‘Twas certainly possible he was telling the truth, but if so, that left one major question unanswered. “And you know this… how, Corporal? Did you suddenly sprout wings and fly over the marsh yourself?”

From the way he flinched, I might almost have thought that he did. “I am a Pathfinder, sir,” he began, referring to the Army’s special scout and raiding battalions, of which we had far too few; they were the closest thing the Equestrian Army had to elite units like the Black Lances. “I am trained for infiltration and reconnaissance, and despite now living in Coltucky, I grew up in this area—I know safe routes through the marshes even in the dark and thought I might use them to reach my unit at Maresk!

“‘Twas there I happened upon a column of gryphons slowly advancing through the swamps, freezing the ground ahead as they went! I then heard them talk of their plans, and thus I rushed to get here, risking those same swamp monsters—‘tis why I am so dirty! I swear before the—before Celestia herself that they said their strike would go in at midmorning, which is now!”

I stared at him again. He sounded like he’d caught himself from saying something he shouldn’t, and something about his manner all but screamed evasion to me. But he had scanned clean and to come up with such an oddly detailed story whilst going to such lengths to appear like he’d been wading through hip-deep mud…

I didn’t believe it. Methinks I didn’t want to believe it. But the more I thought about it, the more his warning rang dangerously true. For the expansive swamps of the not-so-dry seabeds had been our bulwarks. They had guarded our flanks to this point, preventing a deeper pincer attack that would pocket not just the two Equestrian Army divisions at Maresk, but also the two detached brigades along the Harness Highway who were struggling mightily to keep the line of retreat open. And if the gryphons had truly found a way to bypass them…

Then the hill we had fought so hard to wrest and defend had just become our doom, as we would shortly be every bit as trapped as the remaining units in Maresk.

My mind raced as I ordered him escorted away and placed under guard. If this Corporal was correct, then we had to act immediately, pulling our forces back before the attack was launched and the pincers closed. Our two weakened brigades didn’t have enough soldiers left to overcome half a legion landing in our rear between the towns of Melody and Yoke; if they seized that area in concert with the millennium-plus sized force massing to the south, then ‘twas certain our retreat route was permanently cut and we could be reduced at leisure.

But if he was lying, then we would be abandoning any further forces trying to escape Maresk, of which there was still at least a trickle. Two more battered companies and an improvised battalion had slipped the trap with heavy losses along the highway northeast of Harness Hill just in the past hour, though they were too torn up to be useful without a refit and a great deal of reorganization. We’d dispatched them and all depleted units to Melody for rest and reassignment after only the most rudimentary treatment of their wounded.

“Colonel. Orders?” Heavy Halberd prompted; I’d moved him up from regimental Operations Officer to XO of my new brigade and promoted him to Major following the death of Wheat Thresher. ‘Twas an enormous new assignment, but given how well he’d done tracking unit movement and planning smaller rescue operations along the Harness Highway, I judged he would do well in the post with a little more seasoning.

“I would suggest having some pegasi reconnoiter the marshes, but if he’s right, that may take too much time. Or worse, alert the gryphons and make them launch their attack instantly lest surprise be lost.” Methinks he’d at least learned his lesson regarding waiting too long to act after I rebuked him for it earlier, when he recommended delaying our attack on Harness Hill pending proper reconnaissance and planning. Or perchance ‘twas simply because I’d been proven right in doing so.

“Agreed. We either act on this intelligence immediately or ignore it as a ruse. But given the potential consequences, methinks we dare not ignore it.” I began to pace as I considered the question, trying hard to do what I’d failed at before by looking at things from the enemy perspective. If such an operation was planned, ‘twould be along a single narrow and probably zigzagging road they created as they picked their way through the marshes, supported by a score or more of mages who froze the ground as they went.

Though clever, such an operation would also be very time-consuming and risky. For if ‘twas spotted, I would simply have dispatched our now-reinforced pegasi contingent—two entire companies from the Aerial Corps 1st division had arrived during the morning, putting a full pegasus battalion at my disposal—to swoop in and rain explosive gems down on their column, which might well have the added and quite lethal effect of igniting the swamp gasses around them.

In that instance, their only options would then be to take to the air, where the earth gryphons would be far more vulnerable to the wingblades of Aerial Corps pegasi, or dive into the swamps which could be a death sentence given all the sinksand to say nothing of the many magical predators about.

Nor could they turn back without mages, as the ground would quickly thaw behind them in the late summer warmth. If they were caught out in the middle of the marsh, survival for the earth gryphons would be dubious at best, forcing them to cling to a few patches of high ground or trees that could support them as they tried to escape the deathtrap around them in stages.

But ‘twas all idle speculation at a moment when there was no time for it. Methinks I had to decide immediately what to do on little more than the say-so of a single earth pony soldier whose origins and alibi seemed shady at best.

In fairness, I’d already done it once before in planning an attack on Harness Hill, all on the basis of what information I could extract from a single traumatized civilian. But the stakes were far higher this time, and lacking any intelligence, methinks my next course of action came down to answering a very simple question:

Did I believe him, or not?

Allow me to pause briefly to make an announcement that, by strange coincidence, we have received an unexpected guest this final evening we are spending in the Harness Hill Inn. As we were eating supper, discussing this latest entry, he entered our private dining room unannounced, came to attention and saluted me, causing us all to stare. For ‘twas certain he looked exactly as he did then, as if he hadn’t aged a day.

“First Sergeant Bramble Tracker,” I greeted him as I returned his salute. “Or is that your real name?”

By now, we knew he was no pony, and as he understood that full well himself, he asked politely if he could join my journey as a fellow soldier who was with me most of the way. He further apologized for the deceptions he had to employ during that time, saying ‘twas necessary to protect himself and his kind.

“Then show me who you truly are,” I ordered him in my sternest General’s voice.

Taking a deep breath—methinks his next action went against every instinct he had—he dropped his equine disguise with a flare of emerald fire that briefly consumed him. It quickly faded to reveal his insectile body with green eyes and a dark carapace, eliciting some gasps from the wait staff serving us.

“My real name is Lycovenato,” he told me. “And upon learning of your journey from the latest entries in this work, I asked My Queen for permission to visit you. To offer my respects to the General who led me, and the well-wishes of the entire Lepidoptes Hive.”

Well. What by the sun and moon was I to say to that? I’ve never met an undisguised Changeling before, of course, but as ‘twas certain that any Changeling could take the form of Bramble Tracker, I quizzed him. When had he first met me? Who was with me? What was wrong with his cover story? What role did he play in the battles of Melody and Detrot? And yet, he answered each question quickly and easily, ultimately satisfying me as to his identity.

‘Twas then I asked him the question methinks I’d waited thirty years to: “Very well, First Sergeant. So tell me—how did you really know what the gryphons were up to in the Heron Marshes?”

He smiled. “’Tis certain your guess about me sprouting wings was accurate, General—I was heading west, not east, on my way to Detrot, from where I was to start my new career as an Equestrian soldier after checking in with my hive’s existing agents there. Seeking to avoid both pony and gryphon troops until ‘twas time, I thought the dry seabeds would be bereft of soldiers from either side and mayhap allow for my safe passage.

“So, I simply transformed myself into an egret as I overflew the seabed.” He then did so with another flare of green flame as an example, causing us all to flinch to see a large white bird hovering before us but still speaking as he alighted on the table we ate at.

“‘Twas there I spotted their advancing column slowly freezing a trail through the swamps. As I saw it and recognized the danger, I realized that if I was truly going to start helping Equestria, it had best begin then or an even larger portion of the pony Army would be pocketed. So I found you. Though methinks I did not give my cover story enough consideration,” he said with an arched eyeridge and wry grin despite his avian features, and this time, I sensed I was hearing the truth from him as he hopped off the table and transformed back.

“‘Twas certain to me at several points during your interrogation that you saw right through me. At least I remembered to cover myself with mud to make it look like I’d been trying to traverse the marshes on hoof.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Twas certain to me that he was who he said he was, so we invited him to sit down and drink with us as yet another old comrade in arms. He comes bearing his own new entry for this volume, and I also offered him the chance to write a brief passage for this one. But he declined, insisting that I continue with the telling of this tale alone and not linger on him.

Firefly briefly fretted that he needed love, to which he assured us that he had plenty to draw on, thanks to what his Queen had shared with him and their entire hive from Celestia. He further said that he would be honored to dine and drink with us, just grateful that he could finally appear before me—a ‘General he would follow to the gates of Tartarus’—as he truly was.

“And besides, ‘tis certain I found sufficient love to sustain myself, even in wartime. Methinks I can find it here, too, if needed,” he promised with a wink as a slightly nervous Mulled Mead—the niece of Sweet Switchel—poured him a mug of her honey-based namesake drink.

—Rock Biter

Harness Hill
Town Square
Twenty miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 5th, 1139 AC
1058 hours

Methinks of all the difficult decisions I ever made during the war against the Empire, the very first I was forced to make remains in some ways the hardest of all.

As she reads this, Captain Firefly reminds me that she often tells her tactical classes that they should try to force their opponents onto ‘the horns of a dilemma’—in other words, put them in a position where they have to choose between two equally dangerous options knowing each could lead to defeat, leading to abandonment of objectives or splitting their forces not knowing where the hammer blow will fall. I am told the origin of that saying is not from unicorns, but from the Ibexian Supremacy the Kingdom now faces and fights border wars with, borrowed by the gryphons and then imported into Equestria.

Regardless, ‘twas certain I was now faced with such a choice, where to guess wrong was to either doom my new brigade or abandon the remaining Equestrian Army forces in Maresk, which were still trying to break free of the Imperial trap. To this day, methinks I cannot say what ultimately swayed my decision except for a deep-seated unease that only grew the more I thought about what the strange stallion had told me.

I still suspected he was lying, even if I knew not how. ‘Twas not a single shred of evidence to support his claim, and the Imperial military was not generally known for trying unorthodox tactics—especially not the Talons. In fact, they tended to roundly discourage it, oft punishing deviations from doctrine.

But then again, instead of striking at night as they normally did, had they not waited for day and then attacked out of the morning sun, catching us off-guard? ‘Twas certainly unusual and unorthodox, and who was to say their current commander was not under severe pressure to seal the pocket, having failed twice to take the hill whilst watching us maintain a lifeline within reach of Maresk?

Perchance in the end, what swayed me was that there was simply no other way to guarantee the survival of my force. For if he was right, then our position was now untenable and all the troops we had so painfully extracted were about to be pocketed again, this time with no chance of escape.

“Major Halberd! Call up General Florid Flower at 1st brigade and Lieutenant Colonel Peach Preserves in Yoke! Warn them that a large attack is imminent from the north and the gryphons will be attempting to form a blockade position between Yoke and Melody! And tell them we’re abandoning the defense of Harness Hill to make our way west! They must hold the path of retreat open until we reach them!”

“Abandon the hill?” He sounded shocked, mayhap unwilling to let go of it after the battles we’d fought and the heavy price we’d paid to hold it. But I didn’t stop to explain, simply switching to my direct dragonfire lines to my new regimental commanders.

“Brigade! This is Colonel Rock Biter! The gryphons are attempting to cut the Harness Highway west of Yoke with at least three thousand troops! If we stay, we will be pocketed, so by my order, abandon the Hill immediately! Form up into regimental columns and retreat west at the double-quick along the highway!” I shouted into my command gems.

“Aerial Corps! Guard us as we withdraw! Once we’re off the Hill, head for Yoke and assist 1st brigade in keeping the highway open! 3rd regiment! Form the rear guard at the base of the circle road and cover our retreat! 1st and 2nd regiments! Used phased movement south with teleporting unicorns covering the flanks from air attack! Time is short and speed is crucial! Now move!”

“Retreat after telling us to hold the hill at all hazards? By the sun itself, are you insane?” I heard the derisive voice of Lieutenant Colonel Sand Dune over all the startled acknowledgments that came back. “And you want me to cover the rear? Or cover for your own failed strategy?” he needled me further.

‘Twas certain, however, that I didn’t have time to deal with him. “You have your orders, Lieutenant Colonel! Now carry them out!” I shouted back as instructions were passed and troops spilled out of their trenches and structures to hurry into march formation, with flashes of teleporting unicorns everywhere. Our wounded were piled into borrowed civilian wagons whilst tired troops who’d only recently and just barely escaped the pocket struggled to their hooves to make yet another desperate dash to safety.

It took five minutes to get underway, and in that time I received word that a heavy gryphon attack was indeed being launched out of the Heron Marshes; even forewarned, Peach Preserves and Florid Flower were hard-pressed to hold it off. In fact, we gathered from frantic communications that they lost the road quickly but were trying to keep a narrow corridor open in the grasslands to the south between their two main defensive lines, which they had already ordered burned out to make sure a force of grounded earth gryphons couldn’t sneak up on them.

“Sir! Additional Imperials incoming!” Redtail Raptor warned as my headquarters was swiftly packed up into another cart and two younger earth pony mares were ordered to pull it. “We count at least six inbound centuries! They’re less than a minute out!”

“Archers stand ready! Keep them at bay!” I reiterated; ‘twasn’t a large enough force to take the hill if we were still on it, but ‘twas certainly large enough to keep us pinned there and unable to retreat before the Harness Highway was cut.

But we were already leaving as we ran down the south face of the hill and the gryphons didn’t immediately try to engage us as they saw us leave. Instead, seeing their chance, they dove for the top of the hill where my trailing wagons of wounded were attempting to escape. To her credit, Redtail Raptor ordered a slashing attack on them with her three understrength Aerial Corps companies, attempting to distract them long enough for our hospital train to make it away.

They didn’t entirely succeed, as the trailing carts were captured and those inside them butchered; seeing that and realizing that anypony who remained was lost, I ordered the grasslands and crops at the base of the hill torched to create a massive curtain of smoke, attempting to cover our withdrawal.

It seemed to work as the Talons did not immediately chase us, or perchance they were simply content with their prize and had to await additional orders when they weren’t able to obey their original ones to hold us in place.

Whatever their reasons, ‘twas the end of our hill defense as well as any chance of escape from Maresk; all soldiers or civilians still present at either location were now doomed. Methinks the last view I had of Harness Hill before ‘twas blocked by the smoke of the fires we’d set was of a full century of griffons securing the summit, raising the Imperial flag over Town Hall.

‘Tis far more to this action, obviously, but as most of it took place much further southwest along the highway, I regret I have no direct knowledge of it—at least, not until we reached the scene. And for that, I would once again prefer to actually be there before I relate the tale.

As I conclude this chapter, I also conclude my stay in Harness Hill—at least for now. Much to my surprise, I am not only glad I came, but I have enjoyed my time here, finally able to visit it as a simple tourist instead of an Army commander struggling to hold or wrest a critical piece of land from a determined foe. From here, we will follow our retreat route west towards the city of Melody, and from there turn south to Detrot where we made what we feared would be our final stand.

Though I have told my old comrades repeatedly that they do not have to join me for this entire journey, all say to a soldier that they will, even the Changeling called Lycovenato. He has requested my permission to remain in pony form the rest of the way, however, as he simply does not like attracting attention to himself. Methinks ‘tis a survival instinct for his kind, as to reveal their true forms is to risk capture and exposure of not just themselves, but their entire hive.

Nevertheless, ‘tis certain I am touched that he would come out of hiding to meet me as he really is, for if I knew he was a changeling at the time, ‘tis certain I would never have believed him. He saved us that day, and as fate would later foretell, ‘twould not be for the only time. Indeed, his entire hive saved all Equestria more than once, from warning us of the impending invasion to later passing us the critical intelligence we needed to forestall attacks like this one.

By the time we reach Detrot and spend a week there to match the length of our wartime stay, ‘twill be nearly Hearth’s Warming. From there, we will return to my farm in Stalliongrad, and for the first time, my extended herd will host the holiday with ponies outside of our immediate clan. I can only imagine ‘twill yet again be a bittersweet experience for me, reminded of all the time I kept myself in seclusion. But as the presence of my old comrades and even a changeling soldier now remind me, ‘tis never too late to reach out and remember the bonds of old.

I will return the pen to Captain Firefly soon. She will publish the new entry from the former Bramble Tracker next, but methinks she is now quite anxious to return to happier tales from her side of the war, including the unlikely story of how the Lunar Council was ultimately won over and decided to ally with Equestria. To hear her tell the tale, ‘twas not by words or whips that their loyalty was gained, but by one of the greatest tools Harmony possesses:

The power of song.

—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
Farmer and Father
Amber Apple Orchards
Stalliongrad

The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom.

—Sun Tzu

Author's Note

And there you have it. This is the third of six chapters I intend to release by summer, with at least one and possibly two more combat chapters to come. Thanks go to AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, and Silverblade5 for prereads; they all seemed to like this, so I hope all you folks did as well. Music is a little limited in this chapter, but I decided that one compilation pretty much hit every note I wanted to here.

On a personal note, please let me know if you like the graphics, folks, since they’re a hell of a lot of work. I spent about eight hours on them today.

—Firesight

Second Offensive: 11 - Bleeding Earth, Part 2/2

Author's Note

Welcome to the fourth of the promised six Firefly chapters I intend to release before summer, folks. You’ll be happy to know I’ll be proceeding directly into writing the next one after this. I’m taking pains to release this latest entry on Memorial Day here in the USA, which is an occasion to not just hold the traditional first cookout of summer but reflect on the sacrifice of soldiers, past and present. It is in that spirit I ask that this chapter be read, which I put a great deal of time and effort into.

The Changeling arc of this story set is, of course, the brainchild of notable Gentlemanverse author Denim_Blue, who broke ties with the fandom and deleted his account some months ago; he never told any of us what he was doing or why. But his excellent and well-thought Changeling lore lives on, and I’m doing my best to do it justice here. Wherever you are and whatever was wrong, I wish you well, Denim. And know that you are missed. :ajsleepy:

Nothing left to say except Happy Memorial Day, folks. 🇺🇸 In my view, there’s no better way to mark it than with a new Firefly chapter. Thanks as always go to Weschel, AJ_Aficionado, and Silverblade5 for prereads; I enjoyed reading and responding to your comments on the Google Doc as always, guys.

PS: I have retconned earlier changeling chapters to match my new timeline of Lycovenato’s journey to Equestria, so that he arrives in time for the crucial battle of the Maresk campaign. Accordingly, Lyco’s training is now highly compressed through some special means the Changelings have to rapidly impart information and other forms of ability.

Those means are only barely touched on here, so if you want to know more about that, then read Feathered Hearts - Continuation and Chronicles. Yes, the Changelings are on their way into that story, and the answer as to how they can train and share information so quickly will be very significant.

—Firesight

Second Offensive: 11 - Bleeding Earth, Part 2/2

Greetings again to all readers of this tale, from Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV. I compile this entry from my personal quarters in our Hive’s new underground home; one we only established several years after the war ended. And only once our Imperial pursuers were no more, which was not for some time even with the Empire’s fall. We had to wait until ‘twas safe for us to settle down again, continuing to live the same nomadic existence we had during the conflict for many long moons after the war.

Our new location remains secret, of course, though ‘tis my intention to bring Princess Celestia here to see it one day, as repayment for not just my visit to Equestria but for all the love and friendship she showed us.

‘Twas love I was then able to share with my entire Hive, which is now as hale and happy as I have ever seen. ‘Tis perchance little known that we feed not just on physical love, but the emotional kind as well; the adoration and respect that not just the Princess but all Equestria showed us was as nourishing to my beloved Changelings as a thousand physical encounters and will sustain us for many months to come.

Of course, a state visit of a foreign royal would be yet another first for our kind, and ‘tis certain it causes no end of fretting for my civilian and military advisors to even consider such a thing. But by my order, ‘tis a visit that will happen at an uncertain time in the future.

I look forward to seeing the Princess again to renew our friendship. Mayhap ‘twill also allow her another chance to defeat me in our board game of Chameleon, at which she showed great improvement over the course of our stay in Equestria. Not just her, either—I do believe that Prince Blueblood seeks his own rematch with my security chief, who he bested in a blade duel but was unable to do so over a piece-filled board.

Not all is well, of course. ‘Tis rarely the case for our race, which is always under scrutiny as we hide in plain sight. We are used to being treated with suspicion or even outright persecuted, even now so long after the war. Perchance ‘tis something we have in common with the Nightborne, who we have found to be a particularly potent source of love over the years.

But I will not dwell on that now. What follows will detail the latter half of what our Hive would later call the ‘Exodus battle’. But before I begin this entry, I must thank you again, Captain Firefly, for allowing us a say in this story. I would also extend my sincerest apologies for not getting to see much of you during my previous visit to Equestria, but I understood you were otherwise occupied with familial matters.

As a mother, I know well the pain you feel in seeing your offspring depart, not knowing when or even if you will ever see them again. If 'twould ease your worries, be assured that we are watching over your son and daughter from afar much as we do your herd. With regards to Firehawk, we will be more than happy to give you updates on her location and activities if you wish as she continues her journey to the Cheetahean peninsula.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

I thank you for the offer, Queen Lepidoptes, and though tempted, ‘tis certain my daughter would be less than pleased to learn that I am spying on her from afar. ‘Tis also possible that potential enemies would eavesdrop on such communications in order to ambush her in transit, so I will decline.

I simply request that you only inform me should something serious arise, and otherwise take pains to not interfere in her affairs. She wishes to forge her own path out of my shadow, and though ‘tis unquestionably hard for me to do so, I will respect her wish.

—Firefly

Having had your words conveyed to me mentally by Lycovenato, I will amend my introduction slightly to simply say that I will do as you wish, Captain. For now, however, ‘tis time to return to our own perspective on the events of the war, and I thus pass the pen back to my former military commander, without whom none of us would be here today.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

Thank you, My Queen. ‘Tis Rachnia Silkweave speaking again. ‘Tis an occasion that I would have much preferred to pass the quill to Commander Borer so she could tell her side of the battle, but sadly, she is no longer with us, and no Silencer who survived that awful day is willing to tell their story. Methinks they are not all unlike the Ravens or Black Lances in that regard, as they know their work must remain secret—that anything they might say about their weapons, armor or tactics could well be used against them later.

Indeed, Silencers swear their own version of the Oath of Shield and Shadow upon assuming their station, in essence promising to stalk and slay in service of Queen and Hive. ‘Tis unquestionably a difficult life to lead, even more so than an infiltrator, as it often precludes parenthood or ever having what passes as a normal life for us. But like the Lances and Ravens again, that makes their work no less necessary, even today.

—Captain Rachnia Silkweave
Captain of Royal Guard Emeritus
Lepidoptes Hive Guard Academy
Lepidoptes Hive

Two Steps From Hell - Archangel

Lepidoptes Hive Evacuation Tunnel
Location Undisclosed
September 6th, 1139 AC (Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
0320 hours

Though I was outwardly calm as the battle proceeded, I was inwardly churning, sensing our defenses starting to falter.

‘Twas all happening too fast, and the griffons were pushing far too hard, even recklessly. ‘Twas clear by now that they wanted us all dead for smuggling their invasion plans to Equestria. Or worse, they wanted at least some of us alive to study us, perchance to learn how to counter or duplicate our unique skills of stealth and shapeshifting.

We were not about to let them have either, but the best plans of Queens and Changelings oft go for naught in the face of the skilled and determined foe who had found us. Despite the increasingly desperate efforts of my Guard soldiers and Commander Borer’s Silencers, who had already reported that they had slain at least a score of Raven invaders at the cost of eight of their own, they were starting to drive us back tunnel by tunnel, chamber by chamber.

The bad news did not end there, however. Our evacuation was taking much more time than expected given the short notice in which we had launched Code: Break, with the civilians in the eastern sector having to detour into a new escape route to avoid a tunnel collapse caused by Magus-boosted Raven charges. As a result, we were falling dangerously behind schedule, with several hundred civilians and dozens of precious younglings still unaccounted for, which could be lethal for all of them as we tried to hold off the Empire’s elite.

We had already shifted forces to defend them, which resulted in a dangerously exposed salient anchored on the already-empty nursery and hastily destroyed intelligence lab chambers. Worse, we were forced to strip soldiers from the western sector in turn to buttress the civilian defense in the east, which meant that the Talaeus-backedRavens in the west were now advancing at an alarming rate.

The remaining squads opposing the latter reported that they could not hold long and even the surviving Silencers said that the Talaeus mage named Camilea Aeylyn was proving clever and deadly; her wits were as sharp as her wind-fueled blade arts that allowed her to cut down her enemies and trigger traps at a distance. Those who had survived encounters with her further reported that her attacks were almost impossible to avoid, hard for even enchanted Silencer armor to deflect.

And yet, for all her skill, she and her earth gryphon Talaeus partner was but one of many dangers we faced then as the Imperial invasion of our home continued, advancing into its depths. Borer and I were hastily crossing off and marking new positions on a map of our tunnels, which we would destroy upon our own escape or if we were in danger of being captured ourselves.

And my sincerest apologies for not including such maps as would allow readers to more easily follow the battle, as we know from her earlier entries that Captain Firefly likes to include them. But ‘tis a longstanding precaution among our kind that we do not show how our hives are structured, lest future foes use that information against us.

The idea that we could be captured or killed lay heavy in the back of my mind as the battle proceeded. My personal blades lay at my side in easy reach as Borer and I continued to issue orders in support of the defense and each other’s forces, which had to work together if we were to survive this night.

“Point Honeycomb has fallen. I fear we have lost third squad,” I was forced to report based on the latest communications I was hearing through the crystals in my ear. ‘Tis worth noting that the Queen could hear us as well, but she was trying not to distract us as we oversaw the evacuation. She held the final line of defense to our escape tunnel herself, allowing her military and intelligence leaders to command the forces they led.

“A third of my available silencers have fallen,” Commander Borer added grimly; I could tell how much the admission pained her. As they were far fewer in number than regular Guard soldiers, she knew them all personally; ‘tis no doubt in my mind that she was asking the Hive Mother to bless them, seeing their faces flash before her and wondering if she would ever get the chance to properly honor or mourn them.

Wondering if we would shortly be joining them, forced to pick up our swords and fight as simple soldiers in defense of our sorely endangered Queen and Hive.

But whatever her thoughts—some of which ‘twas certain I shared; I was trying hard not to think about the losses we were taking—she covered them up by forcing herself to focus on the battle itself. “I am shifting most of those who remain to defend the east, ordering them to roam free and hit targets of opportunity. ‘Twill hopefully disrupt enemy movements and force them to keep additional Ravens in the rear to watch their backs. In any event, I advise you to fall back on the final lines before the main evacuation tunnel, as I can no longer support your soldiers further out,” she added.

“That will be dangerously close to the Queen herself,” I felt compelled to point out, even though I knew she was right—we no longer had the forces to adequately cover the west; our only option was to concentrate our few remaining squads and Silencers on the final chokepoints before the evacuation tunnel.

Worry not about me, my Changelings, the Queen’s voice sounded clearly in our minds, causing our heads to snap up. I can guard the evacuation tunnel by myself. Worry instead about completing the evacuation and saving as many lives as you can. And I sense your thoughts—by my order, you are NOT to go to the front lines or engage in combat yourselves, Commander and Captain. Getting yourselves killed will not bring your slain soldiers back, and you can do more for the Hive by living, she reminded us sternly.

“Yes, My Queen,” we chorused, accepting her rebuke. We then took a deep breath as one before turning our attention back to the map.

“You heard her, Commander. ‘Tis time we start pulling squads back and saving our soldiers as well as civilians. I propose we use this side tunnel here—” I traced a path on the map with a thin beam of light from my horn “—to provide an extra escape avenue for our retreating soldiers separate from the civilians.”

She saw what I was referring to and frowned. “By the Hive Mother herself, I don’t like it, Captain. That tunnel was never fully finished and could easily be brought down on their heads.” ‘Twas not an idle musing; the Ravens had already collapsed two of our tunnels despite their various physical reinforcement and enchantments; ‘tis no boast to say that our underground hives are generally even sturdier than Diamond Dog tunnels by simple necessity.

“I don’t either, but what choice do we have?” I asked, mostly if not entirely rhetorically as a loud rumble rolled through our chamber, causing cracks to form in the ceiling and some dust to fall on us.

“Chitin Rot!” Borer exclaimed, not censoring his curse despite our Queen listening in as we received the latest reports.

“That would be yet another tunnel the Ravens brought down. They’re trying to pocket the eastern force,” I noted, trying not to let my fears leak into my words, though ‘tis certain that Commander Borer—to say nothing of Queen Lepidoptes herself—could sense my increasingly worried emotions easily enough. “We have to order their withdrawal, now.”

“Then do so,” Borer said shortly as she marked a thick line through the latest destroyed tunnel, which had contained yet another of my Guard squads. “I will order my Silencers to break contact as well. Any who cannot make the escape tunnel are to buy time for those who can.” She picked up her communication gems and began barking instructions into them.

We had barely finished giving our orders to our respective forces to start the final evacuation when yet another, far closer rumble was heard. ‘Twas swiftly followed by a chunk of the ceiling falling on the table before us, shattering all over our heavily marked-up map.

“Our time is up. Our duty is done. Methinks ‘tis past time we leave this place, Captain,” Borer told me, yanking the map free so she could cleanly incinerate it with a flare of her horn.

“Agreed,” I said as a fresh flood of Guard troops and a final few civilians passed us, most of whom were walking wounded. “We are on our way to the rear, My Queen! All charges are set and orders are given. The last of us will pass your position within one minute. The final destruction of our home, we leave to you.”

Understood, my Changelings. You have done well. Now see to yourselves and get to the rear. I will guard our escape. And be assured, they will not pass me.

“Yes, My Queen,” we chorused again, and after lending our efforts to help our wounded soldiers, we grabbed our blades and brought up the rear. Despite our Queen’s desires, we decided wordlessly that we would indeed fight any pursuing gryphons to keep more of our forces from falling.

And if that meant we fell as well, then so be it. The Oath of Shield and Shadow was something we had both sworn long ago, and we would not shirk it now. Not after so many of our soldiers had already sacrificed themselves in its name.

Thank you for relating the remainder of this tale, Captain, though I confess to some slight annoyance that you both sought to disobey your Queen out of some sense of misplaced pride and honor. Though perhaps 'twas too much for me to ask of you to stay out of the fight, having been forced to oversee the deaths of so many of the Guard soldiers and Silencers you two commanded.

Sadly, Commander Borer is one with the Hive Mother now, and though she certainly has a replacement who I will not name, her loss is still felt keenly to this day. ‘Twas not on this awful eve that she fell, but another one yet to come. If I could tell her anything, 'twould be that she more than fulfilled her oath, as did all her Silencers for their efforts that night. They engaged the Imperial elite, and even if they could not drive them off, ‘tis certain that the Ravens were left licking their wounds, forever wary about engaging us directly again.

‘Tis worth noting that ‘tis not the Ravens that ordered this hasty and only half-planned assault, as we would later learn, but their masters in the Office of Owls. Their reasons, unfortunately, made a certain twisted sense, as they feared not so much losing us, but losing the chance to capture and study us.

In that, I am sad to say, they were successful, sacrificing eighty Ravens to capture six Changelings. But we knew not about that for some time, and I could not concern myself with that then. All I cared about was completing our exodus, though even in the midst of the battle, ‘twas another of my far-flung field operatives that would hold my attention instead.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

‘Twas very hard, I must admit, to simply stay where I was and not rush to the aid of my Changelings engaged in battle for the Hive’s survival. But ‘twas one of my mother’s first lessons to me to never do anything impulsively—to not make decisions or otherwise act on the basis of emotions that we Changelings are so attuned to.

“‘Tis a grave and fatal mistake, my daughter,” she once said to me, “to act in fear or anger. Methinks the greatest advice I can give you is this: To be a good Changeling, you must love your Hive, but to be a good Queen, you must be willing to sacrifice parts of it for the greater whole.”

Though I loved my mother, methinks ‘twas advice I never truly took to heart. For how could I sacrifice any part of my Hive, lopping it off like a trapped wing or limb? In the end, I could not, or the agony of 'twould destroy me, tearing my very soul asunder. I imagined ‘twas the same rationale that Princess Celestia used to save Canterlot, even though she might be able to win the war quickly by sacrificing her capital city instead. I did not envy her position, and I found myself wondering again what she might do differently in my place.

‘Twas then another voice sounded in my head, scattering my thoughts anew. My Queen! How fares the battle? Is the Hive safe? Are you? Lycovenato asked, though there was a strong emotional underpinning to his thoughts that suggested that there was something else he wanted to say.

Sparing only part of my awareness for a conversation with him whilst keeping the rest of my attention fixed forward on the tunnel I was defending—‘tis certain that mental multitasking is something I’ve gotten quite good at over the long years of my rule—I answered somewhat shortly.

Let me worry about that, Lycovenato. For now, your sole task is to reach Detrot to meet your new contacts and fully establish your identity as a pony soldier. Only then may you be able to join the Equestrian Army and assist the ponies in this fight.

I felt his mental hesitation immediately. Yes. About that, my Queen. I fear I may have to join the Equestrian Army far earlier than planned, he projected back as the slowing flood of fleeing civilians continued around me and the sounds of fighting drew steadily closer. I could hear my two commanders shouting orders over the special crystals we used; methinks they had already switched gem frequencies twice in that time to keep ahead of Raven eavesdropping.

Speak, my Changeling. And worry not about the Hive. ‘Tis my burden to bear, and not yours, I mentally whispered back. ‘Tis worth noting that there was at least a slight delay in receiving his thoughts due to the distance involved, given his replies seemed to be coming back perchance a quarter-second later than they would have were we speaking face-to-face.

I have a dilemma. I am currently in the form of an egret, overflying the dry seabed to the north of a major engagement between ponies and griffons—from my study of Equestrian maps, I recall that the ponies call it the Heron Sea. ‘Twould seem the ponies are attempting to hold a major road between two of these seabeds, which are currently not dry but some very smelly swamps. ‘Twould also seem that road is a vital lifeline and retreat route from their surrounded forces at Maresk, which they are trying very hard to keep open.

He transmitted a mental image of what he was seeing, to which I nodded in satisfaction—whatever their shortcomings in numbers and materiel, the ponies clearly had some capable commanders as I saw they were holding a prominent hill and the highway behind it quite firmly with their few available forces.

For those curious, though I was certainly not experienced with fighting set-piece battles given Changelings very rarely engage our enemies in the open, ‘twas not to say that I had no training in such matters. Indeed, I had received a great deal of military instruction in my youth courtesy of my mother yet again, who had studied the work of the pony Sun Master and demanded I do so as well.

Thus, ‘twas easy for me to take in the situation at a glance and read that the pony position seemed secure. And ‘tis to their great credit that they do so. ‘Twould seem that their leadership and numbers are sufficient to the task. They do not need our help right now, so ‘twould be best to leave them be, I told him as I heard an order for another blocking force to fall back towards the escape tunnel. I calculated then that we needed another two minutes to complete the evacuation, but judging by how fast my soldiers were being forced back, ‘twas two minutes I was no longer sure we had.

If ‘twas all you see that they face, I would agree, My Queen. But they are now endangered by a new gryphon force that seeks to cut their only lifeline from right out of the swamps! I heard his slightly frantic thought as he turned his head to show me the surprising sight of a column of Imperial Talons advancing not by air, but by ground four abreast through the marshes.

I grimaced, and not just because of the threat; I knew well from my own time in Equestria that those swamps were best described as layered deathtraps during the region’s pegasus-created rainy seasons.

For those curious, my Hive once lived entirely in Equestria before having to leave it; I was but a youngling at the time of the Celestial War. It forced us to flee to Aresia lest the armies of a corrupted Luna or a then cold-hearted Celestia tried to enslave us or otherwise magically bend us to their ends—I still know not how my mother, Queen Scylla Lepidoptes III, was brought before Nightmare Moon and lived—and ‘twas in Mosclaw we eventually settled, which was little more than a sleepy fishing village on the banks of the Moskavian river at the time.

I guessed that they had resorted to such a tactic because their earth griffons simply did not have the range to overfly the swamps, and they could not take the objectives with sky gryphons alone. So they were trying to traverse the treacherous terrain by having mages freeze the ground in front of and around them to provide their advancing soldiers with firm footing, which was a slow process and produced a slightly zigzagging path around obstacles like marsh trees and rocks. As I watched through his eyes, I saw additional staves being brought forward to give to their mages as their original ones were exhausted of power.

Looking closer through Lycovenato’s sharp avian gaze as he circled overhead using the cover of some low clouds—‘tis worth noting again that we assume the senses of the creatures whose forms we take—some of the gryphons also looked slightly ill to my eyes with scraps of uniform or other clothing wrapped tightly around their beaks, presumably to protect them from the poisonous swamp gasses.

Worse, it appeared that they were no longer forging a trail forward but creating large marshal areas for their forces to gather in, which could only mean that they were now massing them for the actual attack. They looked to be no more than a couple leagues from the ‘shore’ of the marshes; once they took flight, they could be on the ponies in minutes and cut their lines of communication quickly, dooming their forces further up the highway and the hill.

Finally understanding the source of his fear, I decided the best course of action was to answer him honestly. I will not mince words, my dear Changeling. What you suggest is dangerous. To introduce yourself to the ponies too early may only raise suspicion since it will conflict with your established cover story.

For if you suddenly appear now, not five days into the conflict whilst claiming you came north from Coltuckey? Methinks a clever commander is unlikely to believe you. And methinks also that the pony commanding the defense is clearly not stupid to have held that hill for so long.

Then are you instructing me not to help, My Queen? he thought back to me, and I could hear the consternation in his mental voice; taste his intense desire to help the Equestrians immediately. With his thoughts unguarded, I saw clearly in his mind what he feared was about to happen and what 'twould cost the ponies—at least another brigade and a half of sorely needed soldiers stood to be enveloped if nothing was done.

A brigade and a half of soldiers they could simply not afford to lose.

The battle for the tunnels was drawing closer, but there was still a trickle of civilians evacuating the hive, and increasingly, a flow of wounded soldiers trying to reach the rear.

I am not. ‘Tis clear to me that both your heart and sense of duty demand you act. So on this matter, proceed as you see best. But please consider your cover story carefully and modify it accordingly. Our infiltrators in Detrot will clean up your account later and square it with pony records. You still must make every effort to contact them later.

Thank you, My Queen. I could feel his relief over the connection. I will act immediately, and my cover will be that I was trying to sneak north through the marshes in hopes of circumventing combat to reach my unit. To that end, I will dirty myself with swamp mud. Please keep our Hive safe, and may the Hive Mother protect you.

And you as well, my Changeling, I thought back, returning my attention to the battle as a Silencer was flung hard into the evacuation tunnel from down the furthest cross-corridor; his armor shredded by what looked like a succession of whirling blade strikes.

‘Twas followed by a massive blast of Magus fire that billowed down the hall but dissipated halfway to me. And rounding the corner in its wake to lock gazes with me was a young stave-wielding eagless painted black and equipped with opal armor, with menacing symmetric red stripes adorning her wings and sides.

‘Tis from here that I will allow the then-Optio to pick up the story, which I have convinced her through some occasional correspondence relayed through Captain Firefly to continue. But my thoughts are less of her right now than of Lycovenato.

Much like the general he wished to see again, he returned to the seclusion he had been in before the war once the conflict was concluded, asking only that his privacy and need to process all he had experienced be respected. ‘Twas granted quickly, though it pained me to see him leave and worse, seek no mate to replenish our depleted Hive. But he told me there was no mate for him but my beloved daughter, and without her, he had no wish to be a sire.

Since then, I have retained at least distant contact with him through the remnants of the link we once shared. It never fully fades, but mayhap that is a good thing, as I have been able to assist him remotely when he was having nightmares or his thoughts turned bleak and bitter.

Perchance that ‘tis why, in the end, I approved his request to travel to Equestria for the first time since the war’s end to see General Rock Biter again. I suppose ‘tis my hope that, just as the General found he was ready to face his wartime memories and step out of his proverbial carapace, perchance the betrothed of my long-departed daughter might be able to do so in turn. Especially if he is surrounded by those he once called comrades, to say nothing of the commander he once confided in me that he would gladly give his life for, no less than the Hive he served.

Even were it otherwise, I could hardly deny such a request, though I do ask Captain Firefly to keep the EIS from sniffing too closely around him, or he will be forced to flee. Inform them that he bears no evidence of our Hive’s new location or activities, and I know him well enough to trust that he would never give any sensitive information up.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV

I will add just a brief note here to say that I have made the request directly to Princess Celestia, who has issued strict orders to the EIS and PSD to leave Lycovenato alone—though methinks you will forgive me if I still think of him as Bramble Tracker. Aside from that, I will do what I can to make his stay with us a pleasant one. But ‘tis not me he is here to see so much as the General, who has thus far taken a surprising interest in him.

—Firefly

I thank you for being so gracious, Queen Lepidoptes, even though I do not believe myself worthy of your respect or honor. ‘Tis worth noting that this battle was the first time—and to this point, the only time—I ever met or so much as set eyes on you, becoming mayhap the only gryphon in history to even glimpse you in your true form. In truth, I was going to ask you to finish this entry without me, as I still find myself fighting the demons of that night.

‘Tis not just the near-nightmarish task of battling your shapeshifting warriors of shadow that haunts me, but the knowledge that our cause was unjust—that those changelings I helped capture were shortly going to be facing a terrible fate courtesy of the Office of Owls.

To tell this tale is to feel my guilt and shame all over again, knowing my actions can never be taken back. But for the sake of history and trying not to be beholden to traumas past, I will conclude my side—or I should say, the Imperial side, given I no longer serve the honorless Empire—of this tale.

—Tribune Camilea Aeylyn
Head of Training, Magus Academy
Arnau
Gryphon Kingdom

Gryphon Empire - Mosclaw
Changeling Hive Tunnels beneath East District
September 6th, 1139 Common Era (Year 33 in the reign of Empress Palemecia)
0320 hours

In the five minutes since engaging and slaying the three Changeling assassins—I knew not they were called Silencers then, which methinks is a chillingly accurate name for them—It had been a literal whirlwind of battle, and mayhap I can be excused for neither recalling all of it nor wishing to.

Since that first skirmish, I had flown, blown, sliced and spellcast my way through at least two decades worth of Changeling soldiers and four additional assassins, taking an assortment of minor wounds along the way. The former included what I later learned were their more heavily armored regular soldiers, which seemed roughly the equivalent of Talons with the additional ability to shapeshift into more powerful forms to good effect.

The latter, on the other wing, were elite Raven-like warriors who struck suddenly from the shadows to cut us down one or two at a time before melting back into the tunnels, all but daring us to chase them. But we had learned by then not to, as we had quickly discovered to no little cost that they were trying to isolate us for ambush by more of their brethren.

Or alternatively, lead us into another rigged corridor where some evil spell or projectile trap could be triggered. ‘Twas certain the Ravens were normally quite good at detecting such things, but their existing assortment of sensory items given them by the Office of Owls were simply not keyed to detect Changeling magic.

Which was one more thing I thought our intelligence overlords should answer for, asking myself repeatedly what idiot had ordered this ill-thought operation and why the Empress had approved it. Methinks we’d lost fully forty percent of our century sized incursion force by then, with particularly heavy casualties among the lead Ravens, who, though certainly well-trained in breach tactics and corridor combat, found such advantages negated by our still mostly-unfamiliar foe.

As the casualty reports continued to come in—at least when we broke through their magical interference on our scrying networks, that was—methinks I wondered again why this operation had been rushed so badly when our forces were still so unprepared for our shapeshifting foe, cursing the Owls anew for ordering it.

Reports of failures were constant, as the modified flight goggles that were supposed to allow us to identify a disguised changeling proved almost completely ineffective except at uselessly close range. Worse, the mages I had so painstakingly trained were variously falling to ambushes or simply being overwhelmed by a barrage of magical bolts their drones could fire when not stealthed. Though I knew not how the Changeling magic arsenal or spellcasting power compared to Equestrian unicorns then, it boded very ill for fighting the ponies, I thought, if we couldn’t best them.

But for all our losses, we were also gradually gaining the upper wing on our adversary despite how well-prepared they were for us. Slowly, our tactics crystallized to pin down a blocking force from one direction whilst trying to flank them from another, whilst their assassins and tunnel traps were at least slowed by filling each corridor with wind-aided blasts of fire or razorwind from my blade.

Finally properly organized and prepared for the foe we faced, we began to drive them deeper into their hive with our remaining forces, leaving a succession of broken if thinly held defensive lines around chokepoints in our wake. They were left strewn with the bodies of their armored soldiers and even the occasional assassin when resistance stiffened again; ‘twas when two more of my mages fell in rapid succession to enchanted crossbow bolts that I decided no further of our forces would fall.

As we had already passed what looked like an abandoned and rather ornate throne room—-which we had not entered for certainty that 'twas trapped and would probably kill us gruesomely if we entered it without a great deal of magical preparation we had no time for—I ordered the mingled force of Ravens and mages I had gathered to me to hold fast whilst I penetrated what appeared to be their final defensive line.

“Your desire to risk yourself in order to protect your unit does you great credit, but we know not what is ahead, and you should not face the unknown without backup,” a wounded Centurion Vimal told me, to which my glare hardened and beak clenched.

‘Tis certain his wounds were part of what was motivating me. He’d charged right through a trapped corridor in which his enchanted armor had only barely protected him; he’d still taken several wall-launched spikes to his sides whose pointed and possibly poisoned tips were currently embedded a single uncia or so deep in his flesh.

To his immense credit, he’d succeeded in making it through and slaying the surprised Changeling decade on the other side despite his injuries; his otherwise useless Owl-issue goggles providing just enough help for him to spot their disguised or shrouded forms at melee range.

“We have already lost nearly two turmas of Ravens and mages, Centurion. Nogryphon else is dying because we stumbled onto any more traps we were not ready for, or encountered those assassin drones we could not sense or counter,” I told him in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m going alone, and that’s final.”

My combat mentor gave an exasperated trill. “Methinks you are acting out of emotion, and not out of military need. On that basis, I could order you to stop, Optio,” he pointed out, the use of my rank telling me in no uncertain terms that he was anything but happy with me.

“I would rather you didn’t,” I replied tersely, “because I do not wish to be accused later of disobeying a direct order of my superior and having my rank stripped from me.”

Vimal stared at me and shook his head. “For one so young, methinks you’re as stubborn as any old crow,” my combat mentor replied without any humor, ignoring the blood dripping down his side. “So be it. I know better than to keep you from something you have your mind set on. And since you do not wish me to accompany you, I will hold the cordon and await your signal. But do try not to get yourself killed. Certain gryphons have grown rather fond of you despite your youth and crow-cursed boar-headedness.”

I wasn’t about to ask then if his words were an expression of sexual interest in me after all our time and training together. “I will signal to advance when the corridor is clear. Now stay here,” I ordered again. Without waiting for his response, I darted forward and cast a protective bubble around me, only using my wings to keep my steps light whilst making sure they did not brush the sides of the slightly narrow cross-corridor we were in—the walls had been scoured by wind and fire, but ‘twas still possible that there was some active trap on them triggered by touch, after all. And though my personal shield spell was strong, ‘twould be unwise to test it more than I had to.

‘Twas a potent defensive spell, but I did not like using it as it prevented me from attacking with my windblade magic from inside it, limiting me to more basic Magus spellcasting. For all my instinctive understanding of my self-taught arts, ‘twas a flaw in my technique I knew I needed to correct, but to this point, a solution had eluded me. There had simply been too little time to develop one whilst we were training for the coming war, to say nothing of the operation we were now engaged in.

I could only hope I would not yet rue it as I continued to advance, keeping my protective bubble intact. It may have limited my offensive attacks, but it also allowed me the ability to easily use one additional skill I had; a skill I had not yet shared with either the Talaeus or even my own mother because I did not wish to be taken off the line to teach it.

And that was the real reason I wanted to be alone just then; so that what I did next would not be witnessed. ‘Twas a gap in gryphon magic that we lacked one important ability of other magically adept races like ponies, or even the Ibex to the east we so despised—teleportation. We could block or at least greatly suppress the teleports of other creatures with the use of certain area enchantments, but the self-teleportation that head-implanted horns and antlers allowed our adversaries was simply far more difficult to nigh-impossible for us, using a detached casting tool as we did.

‘Tis certain there was the rare mage who could teleport a small object a short distance, as long as that object ‘twas not themselves—I was not one of them then, before anycreature asks—but it seemed to be an unteachable natural ability. I also knew not whether my own discovered technique, which I had stumbled upon almost completely by accident, could be taught, but were the Office of Owls, Talaeus or even the Magus Legion to learn of it?

Then they would demand I teach it to others. I would thus no longer be a frontline soldier or be allowed to participate in combat, which at that point ‘twas all I wished to do.

Stretching out my senses, I could detect two loci of magic ahead of me; one just around the bend—another trapped corridor, no doubt, perhaps defended by an additional decade or two of armored changeling soldiers, and a more powerful one even further back of unknown signature or ability.

All I could think about the latter was that it belonged to a far more potent source than the average Changeling I’d met, or at least as far as my awareness could detect—‘twas certain I’d learned by then that Changelings could suppress their magical signature as another means to hide, only revealing it briefly when they cast. And whatever its nature, for this source to stay active implied two things:

First, that its owner wanted to be seen, and second, that they did not fear being detected.

Whatever the source’s nature, ‘twas certain I could confront it later, after I’d dealt with the more immediate threat. To counter it, I sent a fresh blast of razorwind surging down the corridor. It served two purposes—the first, of course, was to clear out or at least weaken resistance and hopefully trigger traps, whose magical signatures I could only dimly detect at close range. But the second…

Closing my eyes as I took in what it told me, I triggered the spell I’d been saving for use all this time, causing first my stave to glow and then my entire bubble to disappear in a flash of light followed by an audible implosion of air around my previous location. For the key to gryphon teleportation, I had discovered, was to first encase the caster in a static magical construct like a shield spell, and then teleport that.

In so doing, you avoided the usual issues with having a detached stave where you could not precisely encapsulate your own body in the teleportation field, which could lead to teleporting not your entire form but only chunks of your anatomy, leaving behind limbs or wings.

‘Twas because you were teleporting not yourself so much as the bubble itself and everything within it, meaning there was no danger of leaving body parts behind. That said, ‘twas still to be avoided as ‘twas a very magic-intensive process that could rapidly drain your power even over short distances. ‘Twas due to the additional mass of air and magic you had to teleport along with you, rendering the process far less efficient and more magically taxing than the average pony or Ibex teleport. And worse, like all teleports, it set off a massive magical flare at both the origin and destination points that any magically aware creature could sense if they were close enough.

So in resorting to this spell, which I now teach other mages to use only very sparingly, I had to act quickly. The wind had told me where the tunnel went when it disappeared off to the right, and I used that information to teleport behind the final changeling blockade and presumed location of the tunnel traps, causing their heads to whip around as they sensed me rematerialize.

There were six of them, all showing some at least minor injuries from my razorwind strikes. Those strikes tended to attenuate quickly when I couldn’t focus them down a single hallway or other confined area, but as a distraction, they did their job well.

My teleport completed, I immediately dropped my shield and launched fresh razorwind spells in both directions with a spin of my blade and stave, annihilating what I thought was their last line of defense. Though wounded by my sudden strike, two more of their assassins attempted to engage me; one transformed into a shrieking, red-eyed thestral in perchance an effort to unnerve me, whilst the second took the form of a winged serpentine black mambat in attempt to stealthily strike me from below, leaping up on the strength of its membrane wings to target my throat.

‘Twas an attack combination based on distracting me with a far louder, larger, and more immediate threat; one that might have caught me off-guard and even slain me—if I hadn’t known the pair were there, that was. For I had already detected their forms, given my magic-infused wind could be used to find both the contours of corridors and the living bodies within them.

So ‘twas here as I resorted not to magic, but to a simple blade strike to decapitate the snake, which promptly transformed back into a headless changeling whilst the other I simply captured in my aura and flung hard down the corridor, which intersected another, far wider one.

‘Twas down that corridor that the more powerful magical signature awaited. My adrenaline surging with my latest victory—I will admit to a moment of triumph and even outright bloodlust in finally getting the better of the alien forces that had so vexed us—I scoured the corridor ahead with fire to immolate the last assassin and trigger any remaining traps. I then rounded the corner in my fading spell’s wake, where I beheld…

Sixty strides ahead stood an enormous but surprisingly lithe-looking Changeling, easily three times the size of the typical one, wielding a large green-tinged sword in her aura with her insectile wings spread wide to encompass half the corridor like a shield. As her orange eyes locked with mine, I saw she also wore some odd vestments, including translucent hoof coverings, a large pendant around her neck bearing an odd crest, and a tiara of pure opal—symbols of her station?

I barely had time to register her appearance and realize who she must be—the Changeling Queen!—before her horn flared. Despite all my power and already-cast wards that should have prevented such a thing, I was then rudely and quite summarily thrown back by a wave of irresistible magic force that slammed me hard into the wall of the corridor from which I came, the painful impact worsening my wounds as I fell to the polished crystal floor beneath me.

Though stunned by her display of raw power—I remember wondering as I clambered back up that if ‘twas said the Changelings fed on the love of others, how many gryphons had she secretly slept with to gain hers?—I realized immediately that if I could defeat her, then ‘twas certain that her entire hive would crumble.

Gathering myself, I launched a focused blast of razorwind down the corridor she appeared to be guarding as a few more wounded or infirm Changelings appeared from two more side corridors and staggered past her. They were urged along by her as she shielded them from my efforts; my windblades quickly and effectively parried by her curved and magically-charged longsword that reminded me somewhat of an olden gryphon scimitar.

‘Twas then that two more figures in what appeared to be a form of high-ranking military garb emerged from a nearby tunnel and spoke briefly to her, earning a terse nod before they retreated behind her and she turned her attention to me again. Smiling and nodding at me in acknowledgement in a manner I can only describe as disconcertingly serene, her voice then sounded clearly in my head:

“You are a skilled warrior as well as a superb caster, Optio Camilea Aeylyn. There are few beings who are able to successfully merge both qualities into a single art. But I will allow you to advance no further. By necessity, this battle ends now. Order your forces to leave our tunnels immediately, or they will perish.”

“How dare you…” My fighting blood and temper up, I reinforced my mental wards and tried to find a way to penetrate her defenses. “Stay out of my head, you shapeshifting abomination! You and your kind will bedevil the Empire no more!” I pointed my blade down the corridor at her in challenge.

Though we had learned by then that the Changelings could sense emotion, she barely reacted to my heated anger and desire for vengeance over the casualties we had taken. Instead, she spoke directly to me in a booming voice that echoed right down the wide tunnel I was in.

“You have every right to hate me for our actions and the losses you have taken, Optio. But I am offering you the chance to save your remaining soldiers. If you do not leave immediately, your incursion force will die,” she warned me again, holding her sword in a guard position before her. I could sense 'twas charged with a great deal of magic, and that I was unlikely to pierce her defense except at very close range.

Despite that, I pulled myself back up and began marching towards her, my head lowered and wings flared. “Save your worthless words for the gryphons you seduced to gain their knowledge and energy! By my most sacred Ancestors, ‘twill not avail you! I swear before the Empress herself that I will slay you here and now! And once you fall, so will your entire Hive, so-called Queen!”

But instead of accepting my challenge, she sighed and nodded. “So be it, young eagless. ‘Tis clear your sense of duty and honor are very strong. Just know that despite what I am about to do, I bear you and your race no ill will.” She then closed her eyes and ignited her horn again, releasing a fresh wave of magic to no immediate effect.

I was about to mock her, but then I felt a series of answering magical bursts throughout the tunnel and chamber complex, only realizing what she was doing as a series of explosions began to be heard echoing through their now-abandoned hive.

By the Empress herself, they were bringing their entire subterranean lair down on our heads!

Methinks my next actions were less instinct than pure panic as I cast a fresh shield bubble around myself, shouting into my communication gem to evacuate as the tunnel crashed down on top of me. My protective bubble in immediate and quite dire danger of being crushed, I mustered all my remaining power for a teleport and reappeared topside, to the shock of those gryphons present.

“Changelings escaped… tunnels collapsing… get everygryphon out…” I begged the overall commander before my adrenaline surge lapsed. ‘Twas swiftly followed by the pain of my accumulated injuries and magical exhaustion catching up to me, causing me to pass out where I lay.

Such is the end of my recollections, which I find come surprisingly easy to me even for as unpleasant as it remains to remember them. For those curious, I awoke in a Talaeus healer house later only to learn that another third of our assault force had fallen, crushed beneath collapsing tunnels that ‘twas unlikely we could ever reach.

And to my great shame and later rage, the casualties included my own mentor and the forces I had been trying so hard to protect. Centurion Vimal Talias was lost, as were another thirty Ravens and six mages thanks to my failed attempt to engage the Changeling Queen. Worse, she had tried to warn me of what was coming but I had ignored her, forcing her to spring her final trap.

I knew not who I was more upset with then—the Owls for ordering such an ill-thought operation on limited intelligence that had cost so many lives and failed in its primary objective, the Changelings themselves for such stubborn and well-planned resistance that had slain scores of elite soldiers and murdered my mentor, or the Queen herself for standing against me and then destroying their hive, to what I initially tried to convince myself despite all evidence was simply to spite us.

It mattered not to me that they had done exactly what I would do in their place, attempting to deny the enemy their prize and any intelligence on them that might be gleaned. It mattered not that they had simply been defending their home and kindred with all their might and magical skill. All I knew or cared about as I lay fallow was that they had escaped us, though I was not immediately aware that several Changelings had been taken alive, including a pair of younglings.

And for what was to happen to them in Owl custody, I can only offer my sincerest apologies to Queen Lepidoptes for my role in capturing them. ‘Tis a dishonor that I will take to my very grave, and all I can offer is to repeat what I said before:

That had I known then what I do now, ‘tis certain that I would not only have resigned my commission but turned traitor to the Empire right then and there, hunting down and killing the Owl agents and their overlords responsible.

—Tribune Camilea Aeylyn
Head of Training, Magus Academy
Arnau
Gryphon Kingdom

Your apology is accepted but unnecessary, Tribune. ‘Twas war, and you were a soldier fighting for your side, just as we were to defend our home and hive. What I said then holds true to this day: I do not blame you and I do not hate you. We chose our side of the conflict and paid a heavy price for it; we lost all right to be treated with mercy or honor by the Empire when we betrayed it to side with Equestria. That decision was mine and mine alone, and thus, ‘tis I that bear the weight of the losses we both suffered and inflicted that night.

My final word in this entry ‘tis not an epilogue, but an invitation extended to you, Tribune Camilea Aeylyn, to visit the Lepidoptes Hive as not an invader, but a welcome guest. As ‘twould seem you still suffer great guilt over your role in the war regarding what was done to the Changelings you helped capture, I offer the chance to visit our Hive directly and see that we now thrive.

To realize that we bear you no ill will, and to witness our own war memorial. ‘Twill have to be done in secrecy, but believe me when I say that ‘tis well within our power to do so. So if you wish this, simply activate a communication crystal that you will shortly find placed in your possession. Be assured that your message will be received, and we will offer you safe passage to our home at a time and place of our choosing.

And lest you worry, be also assured that neither the Council of Crows nor Ravens will be able to track us.

—Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV
Sovereign of the Lepidoptes hive

When tyranny becomes law, rebellion becomes duty. —Thomas Jefferson

Second Offensive: 12 - Band of Brothers

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Second Offensive: 13 - The Power of Song

Dear readers:

‘Twould seem there has been a slight change in plans for this climactic entry, which marks the ending of the third book of this magnum opus.

Though we did indeed make the trip to Yoke and have already visited the war memorial there—just like Harness Hill, there were not one but two waves of war that wrecked it; once when the Empire invaded and then again three years later when the Equestrian counterattack swept through the area in the Tempest Shadow operation—Lycovenato then asked me politely if he could visit the site of Plexippa’s death.

The site is Outpost Epsilon, of course, though I fear ‘twill be difficult for us to accommodate him. After the war ended and pony weather control was extended into former gryphon lands, the arid area started receiving much more rainfall which is causing the formerly sharply defined canyon to rapidly erode. The plateau the base sat on has already collapsed into the gorge, taking with it the first memorial we placed there not long after the war ended, and methinks ‘tis little point in rebuilding it whilst the area remains unstable.

But our old storm cloud vault remains, set back further from the canyon as it was and made of much more solid stone. As for Princess Plexippa herself, I just realized that I never said what we did with her after she died, which ‘tis certainly an embarrassing oversight on my part.

To make a long story short, we were initially going to preserve her body for the EIS to take possession of along with our two Raven captives, but after it became clear that she had delivered us the Imperial invasion plans and war was imminent, I had no choice but to order her remains incinerated by our healers to deny intelligence on our new potential allies to the gryphons.

I know not how Changelings dispose of their dead, and I profusely apologize to both Lycovenato and Queen Lepidoptes herself if I accidentally desecrated her corpse.

—Firefly

Neigh, Captain. You did exactly what we would have done, as you wouldst perchance understand that we do not—under any circumstances—leave our bodies intact after death, given their mere examination could potentially compromise us.

There is, however, a funeral ritual we have that she was never given; one which I now want to perform myself. So even though I understand perfectly well the difficulties involved, ‘tis still my wish to go there and pay my respects. To both my beloved Plexippa, and the soldiers who saved her from pursuit and later fell in the initial Imperial attack.

For all we shared and for all she did for me, to say nothing of what she did for all Equestria, methinks I can do no less.

—Lycovenato

Of course, First Sergeant. Methinks I’ve settled on referring to you by your old rank, given ‘tis common to your two names. Methinks I also know only too well the pain of losing your first true love—the one who broke you out of your shell and let you taste love for the first time. Indeed, within two weeks I will journey to Canterlot with my herd to make my annual pre-Hearth’s Warming visit to his war memorial.

In any event, having discussed it with the General and his former soldiers, ‘tis been agreed that we will delay our continued march west to allow for all of us to take a side trip to the former location of Outpost Epsilon. Though ‘twill certainly result in a delay of not just General Rock Biter’s journey but his further recollections of battle, the General himself says that as we have come to visit his old battlefields; ‘tis only fair and fitting that he does the same for us.

‘Tis not just for politeness; he also says ‘tis past time he pays homage to the Corps forces who fought and died. Not just alongside him, but on the frontier and over the course of the entire war; especially given how he tended to “use them up as fast as he received them.”

I have already requested a Royal Navy transport for the purpose and sent a message to Fell Flight in Nova Ocelota, asking if she and Oberon would take time out of their vacation to join us. ‘Tis unlikely to reach her before we depart tomorrow unless the Gryphon Express is truly as fast as they claim, but I will grant them the chance to prove they can do it as their dispatched courier promises.

So, I must disappoint eager readers by announcing that the continuing tale of the retreat down the Harness Highway will have to wait for the next book. But in its place, I offer a different story—one that ‘tis certain I was completely unaware ever happened until ‘twas related to me this morning.

For ‘twould seem that something else occurred after Thunderbolt’s escape that Blindside never informed us of until now. Something surprising, and something that only makes me love her all the more.

—Firefly

Thank you, my former Captain and current herdmate, and greetings to all readers of all races. ‘Tis only the second time I pick up the quill to pen a section of this story, and in this instance, ‘tis to tell a tale that only I may. For I alone remain alive to remember it.

Before I begin, I wish it known that I did not tell you about this for two reasons, Captain: first, I thought at the time you might be infuriated with me for even temporarily setting Thunderbolt free, even though I judged it safe to do so—that he would desire drink and time with his friends far more than he did to slay Gavian at that point.

And second, even after your punishment period ended, we were soon deeply involved in our respective training under Swift Strike and Captain Typhoon, planning for a surprise attack against the Imperial force inbound on sea transports from the Dolphin Islands. To tell you about it then seemed a needless complication, and I did not wish to upset you anew during such a crucial time. Especially when I was in the process of becoming a Lance whilst you were being trained by Captain Typhoon himself!

And after that? Somehow, it just never seemed important; not after Thunderbolt truly became one of us and the Bolt Knights were birthed, leaving our waking hours filled with battle or preparing for them. ‘Tis only with this retelling of the war that I find myself drifting back to that long ago day, when I stood before Captain Typhoon awaiting punishment for my actions.

A day when I decided where my loyalties truly lay, and what was actually worth fighting for.

—Blindside
Proprietor
Dandelion Tea and Coffee Shop
Canterlot

In the end, our ‘unauthorized shore leave’, as Captain Shady had termed it in throwback to the water navies of old, ended up going well past midnight.

Not that I remember much of it after the first couple hours. In truth, I only barely recall Captain Shady and her guards showing up, and ‘tis certain I don’t remember monologuing to her like a theatre villain gleefully describing my plans for world conquest—something Fell Flight will no doubt tease me about endlessly when she gets back. But ‘tis also certain that I was quite pleased with myself for finding the holes in the ship’s security that enabled me to smuggle Thunderbolt out, coming up with an escape plan I thought might do the Black Lances themselves proud.

All of which mattered little as I woke up in the brig late that night in a puddle of vomit with a pounding headache and a very dry throat. I groaned once, gaining the attention of the naval guards. When they saw I was awake, they threw a bucket of cold water on me, dragged me to the infirmary where I was sobered up none too gently by the less-than-happy healers there, and then escorted somewhat roughly to the office of Captain Typhoon himself, still staying in Shady’s quarters as he was.

His aide was present, but she was quickly excused to sleep with a promise that he would be fine despite her weak protests; methinks she was certainly loyal to him if nothing else. Once she had departed, his expression turned baleful as he leveled the full force of his admittedly unnerving glare on me.

“I assume, despite all the drink you had, that you remember what you did?” he opened ominously. ‘Tis worth noting that although I did not know he was wounded then, I would have treated him no differently even if I had.

“Yes, sir,” I said calmly despite my lingering headache and badly rumpled uniform which was stained with ale in places. Methinks if I’d been worried about his reaction and trying to placate him, I would have prefaced the entire statement with ‘sir’ as well. But as things stood, I had already accepted the possible consequences for what I had done, and thus, I did not fear them. Or him. “And before you ask, I am not sorry.”

“Mayhap not yet,” he said in a low voice, getting up and going around the desk to stare me in the eye. ‘Twas certain he was a very intimidating pony when he wanted to be, and I knew full well he could slay me in an instant if he wished. “Your actions endangered both Gavian Ravenoff and our ongoing attempts to win over the Nightborne, had they found out what happened. And for what?” he all but growled. “Speak!”

“For the sake of a stallion who is my mentor—a stallion who needed to be out of that awful infirmary and in the company of those he could relate to! He needed that far more than he did to lie on a table, unable to do anything but dwell on all he had become and lost. You tore him down, sir, potentially sacrificing an innocent life and two other superb soldiers to do it. I accepted the former was necessary despite severe reservations, but not the latter! Methinks you made their duel inevitable, sir!”

“Because Thunderbolt is worth more than all three of them combined to Equestria,” he reminded me again in clipped tones, causing my lip to curl. Not because I thought him wrong, but because he would so callously and casually sacrifice them all on the altar of reclaiming Thunderbolt.

“Only if he is willing to fight. And as of now, he is not. For if you wouldst truly wish to have him back as a usable soldier, you forgot the other half of the equation, sir. You tore him down, but you did nothing to build him back up!” I spat out.

His turquoise eyes narrowed dangerously at my backtalk. “And you think getting him drunk in a pub accomplished that?”

“Yes, sir. I do.” I replied evenly, breaking my bearing to meet his gaze. “Or at least, ‘twas a good start. Perchance you were not told which two ponies he was with, but one was Virga Veil; the only other survivor of the IS-2 Incident. I had my mother contact him and ask him to meet us at the pub. He lost his wing and his memory at that massacre, but ‘tis certain he was the only one who shared Thunderbolt’s pain of losing their friends and future wives,” I explained briefly. Captain Typhoon did not cut me off, but if he had, ‘twas certain I was not going to stop talking until I’d said what I had to say.

“The other pony was, as ‘tis certain you now know, Sergeant Sky Sentry of the Armored Guard. He wanted to be there both for Thunderbolt and himself, because he is mayhap the only other pony in all the Armed Forces who knows exactly what my mentor went through,” I continued, mildly surprised that the Captain had not yet interrupted me.

“For he shared the same awful experience for being the sole survivor of Outpost Delta, and ‘twas thus Thunderbolt’s only true peer. And yet, he was not changed into a soulless slayer afterwards. ‘Twas that factwhich I most wanted my mentor to see—that the demon he became ‘twas not an inevitable outcome of his trauma. And from what I can recall from my admittedly hazy memories, he did.”

Typhoon stared at me for several long seconds; to his credit, methinks he was actually considering my words instead of reflexively dismissing them. “And why, by the Sun and Moon, did you not run this… plan of yours past me or Captain Shady instead of smuggling him out of sickbay?” he asked shortly.

“Because time was pressing and I could not risk you saying no, sir. And given what you did to Master Sergeants Fell Flight and Firefly for their perfectly understandable reactions to seeing their son and mentor set against each other, ‘twas far from certain to me that either of you wouldst approve it. So if you wish to haul me before the Mare-At-Arms and whip me as well, feel free, sir. I’ll accept my lashes and take my place in the brig beside the Commander and her second quite gladly.”

His eyes narrowed further at my tone. “You can spare me the sanctimony, Sergeant. I am neither moved by it, nor by your loyalty to your commander, which I am starting to suspect is motivated by something more than mere duty,” he replied acidly, causing my cheeks to flush.

“In any event, your actions were unnecessary and unhelpful, to say nothing of potentially dangerous to our objectives of gaining an alliance with the Nightborne. And since you seem to think that you alone had thought of any of this, know that I was planning to speak with Thunderbolt again after the Lunar Council had departed,” he informed me. “I would have offered him the chance to redeem himself by helping save Equestria with renewed service, appealing to his love for his lost friends.”

“And how would that have worked?” I openly scoffed, taking him aback. “With due respect, Captain, he had no reason to listen to you after you so cruelly crushed him, destroying both his spirit and good name in front of other ponies. Or to fight for you given you showed not the slightest shred of concern for anything but his combat ability!

“And methinks this is what you fail to understand—that we do not fight for Equestria so much as each other! ‘Tis why I risked my career to help my beloved mentor. ‘Tis why Fell Flight and Firefly reacted the way they did to seeing their son and sponsor set against each other. ‘Tis even why they were willing to kill the other if ‘twould save them,” I spelled it out for him.

“And ‘tis ultimately no different for Thunderbolt—the only thing he has and the only thing he could possibly fight for now are his friends, both old and new! So I gave him one from each. Let him know he was not alone in this world and there were still things worth fighting for—something you did not.”

“Are you quite through?” His voice was ice-cold.

“No sir, I am not,” I answered angrily. “‘Tis certain I have much more to say.”

“You either can be through, or you are through, Sergeant,” he warned me, his tone and the sudden breeze that ruffled my mane silencing me instantly. “Methinks I have indulged you far too much as it is, and the only question that remains to be answered is your punishment,” he said as he began to slowly circle me whilst I continued to stand at slightly swaying attention.

“I could give you over to Captain Shady, but as you remain unrepentant and the message must be sent that soldiers may not take matters into their own wings, I am leaning towards ordering your arrest. I could then pass you off to Sergeant Major Rolling Thunder for court-martial and imprisonment at Corps facilities in Cloudsdale, leaving you here whilst the ship departs with Master Sergeant Firefly and your friends. For methinks the only punishment you wouldst care about is being separated from them,” he guessed, reminding me again that the Captain of the Guard was not only exceptionally strong, but uncommonly perceptive.

Nevertheless, I, too, was unmoved. “As the acting Corps Commander, ‘tis your prerogative to punish me, sir,” I said easily, having already thought of this possibility earlier, and thus how I would answer it. “Though methinks the Lances would be less than pleased to lose one of their latest recruits. Since ‘twould seem you were unaware, I was scheduled to begin instruction at Coltanado in four weeks. And methinks we now need every Black Lance we can get.”

For once, I had the privilege of seeing him caught off-guard as he stopped mid-pace. “The Lances want you?” he asked incredulously, going back in front of me. “And just what, pray tell, would they see in a one-eyed soldier?”

‘Tis certain my grin turned sweet. “Methinks you can ask Sky Sergeant Swift Strike that question, given ‘twas on his recommendation they recruited me, but methinks also that I have a better idea. Perchance you wouldst wish to see what abilities my mentor imparted to me at the Remedial Flyers’ School so many years ago?” I suggested with an increasingly sly smile.

“I propose a simple bet, Captain: Try to take me down with the same strike you used that felled Thunderbolt. If you win, I will accept any punishment given without protest. But if I win, then you will not only let me go without any discipline, but set free Master Sergeants Firefly and Fell Flight. And to make it a fair contest, I will even close my good eye.”

He stared at me in disbelief. “You do not make demands here, Sergeant. But as ‘twould seem you have an outsized opinion of your abilities, methinks I will call this a formal challenge and indulge you. I will not overturn the punishments imposed by Captain Shady, but your other terms are acceptable—if you win, I will not sanction you. Now prepare yourself!” he instructed, and then instead of tensing up, he went perfectly relaxed before me, standing but half a pace in front.

‘Twas how he had defeated Thunderbolt, methinks I only then realized, as being able to strike from such a serene stance made him impossible for even my mentor to predict—unless, that ‘twas, you could read disturbances in the air itself like me. ‘Twas thus that when his left hoof suddenly lashed out—for the record, his initial strike to Thunderbolt’s chin had come from his right—I sensed it a quarter-second before it hit and shifted rapidly right with a quick beat of my wings, causing the blow to glance uselessly off the side of my cheek.

I still felt it, though; ‘twas my first taste of his odd art and ‘tis no lie to say that even an imprecise strike sent a wave of vertigo and nausea through me, not helped by the remnants of my hangover. But I was well-used to dealing with such things and thus ‘twas able to dodge or parry his next two strikes before I counterattacked, slashing towards his throat with a wing like I was armed with a wingblade.

Though visibly surprised—methinks he believed that if Thunderbolt was unable to evade him, then ‘twas certain one of his former students could not!—the Captain then started taking me far more seriously. He blocked his wing with my own—he was wearing blades but did not have them deployed—and his strike jarred me hard as my wing went limp from the paralyzing hit. The end of the duel, if ‘twas what it could be called, was nigh after that as he used his elemental power of wind to pin me in place, and this time his hoof struck towards my forehead, freezing but a fraction of an inch from its furred surface.

He held it there for a moment to make clear he had won. I knew not what it would have done had it connected, at least not until he shortly explained: “Such a strike to your skull would have crippled you, sending you into a coma from which you wouldst not easily awaken,” he informed me, but then lowered his hoof and stepped back.

“Still, I am impressed that you were able to dodge me at all. Even for as stiff as your muscles remain, your anticipation and agility are outstanding. I now understand why the Lances want you, to say nothing of what you meant by Thunderbolt imparting you some of his awareness. ‘Tis not enough against me, but by the terms of the bet, you won by dodging the initial attack, which ‘tis something not even Thunderbolt could do,” he granted grudgingly, going back behind his desk.

It took me a moment to gather my bearings again, finding my body still off-kilter and my wing only slowly starting to respond again after his strikes. “Then may I go, sir?”

Though he took several seconds to answer, he regarded me with more respect this time. “No matter what else you may think of me, I am a stallion of my word. By the terms of the challenge, I thus let you go with no punishment. So kindly depart and do not give me any more reason to summon you, Sergeant. For I promise I will be far less generous if there are further breaches of discipline from you or any other Corps soldiers on this ship.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” I acknowledged in the naval manner, coming to attention and saluting. “And if I may be so bold as to offer the Captain a parting word of advice…?”

“What?” he grated out as he returned the respect with his wing.

“‘Tis not just me who is angry at recent events. Perchance you are unaware, but after what happened to Firefly and Fell Flight, morale is low amongst the Corps troops. If you do not wish for more incidents like this, then I strongly suggest that you find some way to atone for setting the Commander and her second against each other. For we are loyal to them, and I am not the only one who believes you at fault for their fight.”

He stared at me a moment before replying. “I will consider it. Dismissed.”

Such ‘twas the end of our confrontation, which much to my surprise, ended with me unpunished. I emphasize that I had not planned to challenge him upon entering that room, or offer the terms that I proposed.

But quick thinking had always been one of my hallmarks, and to his credit, the Captain did abide by the terms of the brief duel. ‘Twould further seem he listened to me as well by acceding to the offer of throwing a dawn gala, which turned out to be as much for the morale of Corps soldiers as to show the still-reluctant Nightborne what had happened at Epsilon.

—Blindside

‘Twas indeed, though thanks for that feat goes not to the Captain so much as Silver Seax and his four brothers, as the latter half of this chapter will show.

As I finish reading over your entry, ‘twould be an enormous understatement to say that I am greatly touched and impressed, my herdmate. ‘Tis no doubt Fell Flight will be as well, once she reads this—I am sending her your section along with the invitation to join us at the former site of Outpost Epsilon.

Of course, getting her the message is only half the struggle. For knowing her, she is likely sleeping off a booze-fueled brawl at this hour and is having daily hangovers as well as nursing fresh bruises; even this long after the war, methinks she does not truly feel alive unless she is fighting. Perchance in that sense, she is very much Thunderbolt’s successor, but that also means she is lucky to have found a thestral husband who felt the same way.

Before beginning the next section, I wish it known that I wrote Silver Seax, asking if he would like to pen the passages to follow or participate at all in this tale’s telling. ‘Tis not the first time I offered the latter, but he yet again declined, saying that though honored by the request and that they are following our work with keen interest, both he and his brothers believe that their songs and deeds should speak for them. So ‘twill be told through the eyes of Father instead.

—Firefly

Thank you, my daughter. And greetings to all once more as I pen this lengthy passage to come from the Admiral’s quarters at Royal Navy Base Capricorn. ‘Tis one of my favorite places to stay as it overlooks the shipyards of Stalliongrad, where I can clearly see the brand-new EAS Cutlass being readied for a dawn launch tomorrow.

I am tired, but I am also grateful to finally be here again, carrying out my duties as commanding Admiral once more. I am far from the only one as I see pegasi and earth pony dockworkers swarming over the Cutlass in the evening light, loading supplies and performing their final checks before his crew boards him for the first time.

I am assured he is ready to fly, even if I am not, though I find myself flexing my still-stiff wing constantly in an unending but as-yet fruitless effort to fully loosen it. ‘Tis something my body does automatically now, and I dream of taking flight with increasing frequency as part of me still holds out hope that I will yet be able to.

But I will not bore readers by dwelling on that. If this is to be the last entry in this volume, then I shall make my own contribution to it worthy of its conclusion.

—Admiral Tailwind
Commanding Admiral, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad

EAS Loyalty
Topmost observation deck
Cloudsdale, Central District Airship Anchorage
September 6th, 1139 AC
0545 hours

The eastern horizon was starting to brighten as Silver Seax and his brethren readied themselves to sing on their improvised stage, which was a raised area at the fore of the observation deck from where the Captain or other officers occasionally addressed the crew.

‘Twas an array of seats before them containing the assembled and rather antsy Lunar Council, who methinks had only agreed to attend this offered ‘concert’ out of politeness and diplomatic necessity. ‘Tis certain they were more than ready to leave at this point, and planned to do so within the hour, arriving back in Hollow Shades to debate the question of war and alliance with Equestria before going to bed.

Despite the best efforts of myself, Captain Typhoon and Captain Shady, I held out little hope that they would join us. Near as I could tell, they were currently split almost perfectly down the middle between those inclined to aid us and those who wanted to remain out of the conflict.

Their visit to Cloudsdale had perchance swayed a few members, as Shady said before, but simply not enough. Especially if, as I had been told earlier, their rules of governance held that a declaration of war or ratification of a treaty required a full two-thirds of their thirteen Councilbats—at least nine members—to vote aye.

That the treaty they had inked three centuries prior already required them to act was irrelevant to them, as they believed it to be unjustly imposed. Whether true or not, and despite the earlier warnings of Captain Typhoon before the Lunar Council of retribution later if they did not comply, Equestria ultimately had little power to compel their obedience whilst engaged with the gryphons.

I had already readied their transports for departure despite my admittedly impressive hangover, and before anycreature asks, no, I do not know what happened between me and Shady the previous night. Nor do I wish to; I am loyal to Silent Night to this day. Perchance that is something I have in common with the Changeling known as Lycovenato, as I feel there is simply no other mare for me.

But I digress. I admit, I did not know what possible good simply singing a song could do, even as the Corps soldiers assembled somewhat sullenly behind acting commander Aves Osprey, standing in formation along with an equal number of Nightborne troops and the Loyalty crew. Last to arrive was Captain Typhoon escorting Viceroy Chardonnay, with Total Recall beside and slightly in back of them.

“Attention on deck!” The call came up from the sentries, though the Lunar Council did not do so immediately despite everycreature else leaping to their hooves before them; in the end methinks they only rose for the presence of the Viceroy.

There was a brief speech given by the latter thanking Captain Shady and the crew of the Loyalty for their hospitality, saying that they had been given ‘much to think about’. That they would ‘give the needs of Equestria and the threat the gryphons posed’ due consideration in their coming deliberations, promising a decision that was ultimately in the interest of both nations.

Though tactfully stated, I sincerely doubted that would be the case, and ‘tis certain I was far from the only one as his words were met with no applause from either side. Captain Typhoon then rose to speak only briefly, thanking the Nightborne for sheltering Cloudsdale and all the aid they had rendered, but also reminding them pointedly that there was but one decision they could make that would be in the interests of both sides.

He left it there, then asked Captain Shady to introduce the band. They were now clad in dark blue enlisted uniforms bearing two stripes, having all been given brevet ranks of Starpony Apprentice—just one step above the lowest naval rank of Starpony Recruit.

In truth, I had seen little of them lately. They had been spending most of their time below decks, being gradually introduced by Flash Fix and others to the various shipcrafts they needed to know. They had shorn their blonde manes to military length but had not fully shaved their beards, reducing them to short-clipped fur that were still quite visible against the backdrops of their paler faces.

Beards were normally not allowed in the Royal Navy, but methinks Shady let it go only because she typically allowed all the crew a single indulgence outside regulations to match her own—her namesake dark spectacles.

The oldest brother then stepped up to the broadcast crystal before him, causing his voice to boom throughout the ship. ‘Twas even loud enough to be heard in the surround, with the heads of early-rising civilian ponies flying about pausing their activities and turning towards the airship.

“Greetings to our Aerial Corps, Royal Navy and Nightborne friends alike. For those who do not know us, my name is Silver Seax, and these are my brothers, in arms if not always in blood—Burnished Broadaxe, Tiger Tomahawk, Metal Mattock, and Masakari Mace,” he introduced each in turn, to which the named pony stepped forward and nodded briefly. I admit I was momentarily startled by the statement—I had thought they were all brothers from the same family, but as I would later learn, they were only from the same village and, with two exceptions, were at most distantly related cousins.

“We originally joined the soldiers of Outpost Epsilon nine months ago, assigned there as a civilian work crew to help rebuild and maintain the base. ‘Twas our first time away from home, and though ‘twas hard for us being around so many pegasi in a desert instead of the fellow earth ponies of our forested village, we eventually found our place and made friends there, fighting alongside them as not just civilians but soldiers when the gryphons invaded. That is how we know what occurred there. And that is what we will now show you,” he promised, to which a few quickly shushed cheers from the Corps troops came up.

He paused long enough to smile and nod over our heads at them. “We dedicate our performance to not only our three lost brothers—Heavy Hurlbat, Long Labrys and Steel Sagaris—but to all the Corps and Naval troops who fell in battle that awful first day of war. We further offer this concert in the interests of morale and mutual understanding between Equestria and Thestralslovakia,” he announced, to which I noticed some sneers from the Lunar Council; ‘tis no doubt there were some eyerolls under their dark goggles as well.

Silver Seax, who was not only the oldest of the group but their unofficial leader, smirked unpleasantly at the reaction. “Methinks I understand that there are those present who may doubt the story of our survival and escape from Outpost Epsilon. Viewed from afar, ‘tis truly a fanciful tale that ‘twould seem to have sprung from the mind of a young foal, or mayhap ‘twas little more than a repackaged mythical battle of old meant to woo a new ally.

“Well, we are here to not just say to ye but show ye that what happened there was very real, as is the threat our two nations now face. So doubt me if ye wish, but know that all ye are about to experience is real. Was real.” He then turned to his brothers and nodded, who closed their eyes and readied their instruments to play. They looked like they were concentrating somehow; I had the strange impression that they were summoning forth some form of internal magic to aid them.

“So to begin, methinks I will tell you what I remember. As not a soldier, but just a civilian worker present that day…” Silver Seax started to say, pausing long enough for the backmost member of the band—Metal Mattock?—to begin playing his drums in a crescendo of sound that got everycreature’s attention. It trailed off to leave a lingering rumble in the air; one that was somehow sensed within our very souls.

SABATON - Diary Of An Unknown Soldier (Official Lyric Video)

“I remember Outpost Epsilon, on the morning of September First. And ‘tis certain the sounds of that day will haunt me for all my life.” He turned downcast for a moment and closed his eyes, looking like he was both steeling himself and summoning forth his own spirit.

“Lightning fire from our storm teams…” One of his brothers produced a series of rolling and rhythmic thunderclap sounds with his drums, which I quickly realized were meant to establish a beat for their entire band.

“The sickening sound of a wingblade slicing through metal and flesh…” Silver Seax continued as a second brother began slapping two borrowed blades against each other, producing the distinctive ring of clashing steel in time with the first sound.

“The unicorn healers beside me firing their longbows in desperation…” This time, a third brother simply began plucking the loosened string of a borrowed naval crossbow to produce the sound, which meshed instantly and quite neatly with the two previous ones.

“Now watch and listen, dear friends of the Solar and Lunar nations alike, as all these sounds come together as music,” he invited, picking up his stringed instrument to wield in both forehooves. “A rhythm of rage… a symphony of sheer savagery…”

Suddenly a fresh crescendo was heard and a sensation I could only describe as a mixture of electricity and magic was coursing through the air, causing the skin beneath my fur to prickle and the short-cut hairs of my mane to stand on end.

And then they began to sing.

SABATON - The Lost Battalion (Official Lyric Video)

On the frontier
We fought with no fear
We stood strong
And our legend will live on!

A powerful martial melody suddenly erupted from their instruments and the air itself seemed to distort as a massive amount of magic collected around them, flowing inward towards the five stallions. I knew not what was happening—I’d certainly felt the touch of Harmony before, having joined the chorus when Sky Sentry was singing of his sorrow following our escape from Epsilon. But this…

I had little time to come up with an explanation of these events as Silver Seax launched into the song, singing into a loudspeaker crystal as he played his stringed instrument, his blue eyes shining bright beneath his golden mane.

First September,
The war begins at dawn
A Corps battalion is trapped at Epsilon

Suddenly the magic they had summoned seemed to coalesce into a depiction of the Outpost as it was the morning of the invasion. But ‘twas no mere projection, as our crystal viewfinder screens on the bridge might show. ‘Twas literally all around us, as if we were there directly. ‘Twas a completely immersive experience as we didn’t just see it, we heard it! We felt it. We even smelled it, from the arid dust in the air to the sweat of Commander Firefly’s forces, readying themselves for battle as dawn broke over the border desert.

Far outnumbered,
There's no way we can win
Our time is short
And our fate is growing grim

We saw them surrounded by a full cohort of Imperial Talons, demanding the surrender of the Outpost, to which Firefly ordered them to leave or die. The request was declined, and the battle for Outpost Epsilon began.

Causing heavy losses
As we’re fighting to the last
Epsilon's battalion standing fast!

The clash unfolded before us in vivid and quite bloody detail, causing the Nightborne soldiers and Lunar Councilbats to visibly flinch. They cast their frightened gazes about in confusion or outright terror at the brutal battle literally unfolding all around them; crossbow and lightning bolts flying in every direction as freshly created corpses rained down from the skies. Through it all the Corps troops and even Captain Typhoon stood transfixed with their jaws agape, the former seeing their own memories replayed before them.

And even though Silver Seax and his brothers did not stop playing or singing, we somehow saw the entire course of the battle played out in our minds. It ended with the Talons not just beaten but utterly thrashed by the well-trained and vastly faster Corps troops, turned into elite soldiers as they were by Firefly and Fell Flight.

Within seconds it was over. The surviving gryphons fled across the canyon with their first attack shattered; the scene shortly shifted to show the Corps soldiers only briefly savoring their triumph before resuming their patrols.

Defending our land
As we made our stand
We disregard the demand
To surrender or die
With the stakes so high
We fight or we fall
We would heed duty's call
With blade, axe and bow
Did we fight our foe
We never would be laid low
Facing Talons and Knights
We won all our fights
Awaiting rescue
Can the Navy get through?

The lyrics themselves only took seconds to sing, and yet, the entire day was somehow replayed before us in that time; the stanza ended with a scene of the Loyalty’s battlegroup lifting off from Royal Navy Base Capricorn in Stalliongrad and turning to the east, towards Epsilon. Even before that, we saw the Outpost hemmed by hundreds of additional Talon soldiers and gold-armored Knights, massing for a fresh strike on the understrength Aerial Corps base.

But this time, encouraged by reports of a surprise spoiling attack launched by Outpost Gamma that annihilated another Talon cohort, the Outpost made plans for their own such strike and launched it, first filling their base and the canyon beside it with fog to hide their intentions. They then struck the gryphon marshall area with a very cleverly designed two-pronged hit-and-fly attack. It held the attention of the Imperial soldiers on the lead force winging in directly from Epsilon, whilst a second force snuck low through the fog-filled canyon to hit them from behind.

I sensed my heart rate speed up further as it worked, and I felt a moment of fierce pride in my daughter for coming up with such a brilliant strategy. It might have been followed by pain at the memory of why she was not at my side now, but I had little chance to dwell on it as the sun abruptly set over the song-fueled vision, showing the base now hemmed by over a thousand gryphons.

The scene then shifted anew to show Firefly, Fell Flight, Blindside and others meeting the Imperials for parlay just outside of the fog, where the latter again demanded their surrender.

Darkness falling,
Our time is dwindling low
A bloody end,
It was promised by our foe

The meeting ended quickly with the Imperial ultimatum refused, with the highlight being how a larger and menacing Fell Flight clearly intimidated the eagless Tribune that was the gryphon commander.

The ranking Fortis Knight in her parlay party was not afraid, however, as he stepped forward to goad Firefly and then even exchange a few words with an angry Gavian. The latter was wearing borrowed and blue-painted Talon armor; when he appeared in the vision methinks I very nearly ran out to pull him back from confronting the much larger earth gryphon.

All this passed through my amazed mind in but seconds as the next stanza was sung to describe the third and most crucial battle of the base’s survival; one it fought whilst we were still hours away:

Midnight comes and
The gryphons strike again!
Create a storm, and
Then fight back from within!

As we watched, the Corps used their cavern-stored storm cloud cache to build the massive supercell we had seen even from afar on our approach. It swiftly turned into a twisting, writhing, lightning-charged mass of pure death they then suicidally fought the Imperials beneath despite the extreme danger, trying to buy enough time for the gryphons to be lured to where a storm-generated tornado could smash them. Which it did despite heavy losses to the Corps forces; they just made it back to their storm cloud cavern redoubt before the monstrous twister swept their base and pulled many centuries of enemy soldiers to their deaths.

‘Twas only then I remembered the Nightborne were present, and with some effort I focused through the visions on them. Several had fallen out of their seats whilst others looked like they wanted to flee the horrific vision of combat and storm-caused carnage; General Starry Skies was standing on his hind legs and wielding four whirling blades as pony and gryphon soldiers alike passed him doing battle; more than once he took a strong swipe at the latter, only to find air.

Chose not to surrender,
Chose to fight for all we loved!
Chose to make our end
Be paid in blood!

The battle ended with the storm cloud vault doors sealed by the strength of the then-six earth pony brothers. They had been seen earlier fighting the gryphons as infantry when the latter broke into the cavern with diamond dog aid, only to find it empty of all but the outpost’s unicorn healers and civilian stallions. They were supported by the two non-flying Celestial Guardsponies, along with Gavian and Swift Strike.

A pitched battle followed that was won in large measure thanks to Swift Strike and Still Way; the former single-hoofedly wounded two Fortis Knights and cleared the incursion tunnels whilst the latter defeated two Imperial mages at once.

But the martial feats did not end there as to my great pride, Gavian took on a third Fortis Knight in single combat and triumphed; the defeat of the incursion meant the outside Corps troops fighting beneath the storm kept their redoubt and could retreat there when the tornado descended.

Though momentarily safe, the remnants of the Epsilon battalion were left battered and bled dry from fighting in such severe weather; their numbers dramatically and quite tragically reduced to half-strength. Methinks the Nightborne had seen more than enough at that point and a few were cowering, all but pleading for the bloody but somehow mercilessly inescapable history lesson to end. But the brothers weren’t done yet.

Far from our home
As we stood alone
We refused again the demand
To surrender or die
With the stakes so high
Our honor shone through
As we stood strong and true
We could not last long
But we vowed to fight on
Even when warned none would know
The bloodstained red sand
Of our final stand
Could Battle Group Four
Come and yet save the Corps?

We saw a vision of the surviving Aerial Corps soldiers gathered in groups around a few firegems to share their final dregs of food and drink. They were resigned to their fate but still resolute, wanting only to take a few more Imperial soldiers with them before they died.

But as the final two lines of the stanza were sung, the scene shifted to show the Loyalty Battlegroup making its final turn from the gryphon side of the border after its wide sweep around the northern end of the frontier, finally inbound towards the base.

Our fortunes did turn
Yet still did we spurn
The Gryphon Empire demands
To surrender or die
With the stakes so high
We would die,
So we said
Our last goodbyes

We felt as much as heard the explosions coming from outside the cavern as the gryphons readied for their dawn attack on the chamber, which the depleted Corps battalion now had little chance of resisting. But they nonetheless prepared themselves for one final fight, which they—and we—knew they would not survive without help.

Exhausted and done
At the rise of sun
We soon would be overrun
We were now falling fast,
To be slain to the last
When airships
Appeared to the gryphon rear

The storm cloud vault was quickly breached by centuries of Knights and dozens of Ravens. They proceeded to skillfully and quite savagely slaughter the surviving Corps soldiers, who were simply not as fresh or swift as they had been a day before.

Methinks ‘twas only then the Lunar Council finally understood that Captain Typhoon had not been lying when he told them that the Empire could take on elite soldiers and defeat them, for they had more than a few of their own. The Ravens were terrifying—’tis no other word for it; I suddenly realized how incredibly lucky we’d been on the bridge not to face them when the gryphons broke in—whilst the Knights were very much the shock troops we’d been told, as they simply smashed or slashed aside all opposition, rapidly reducing the Corps force.

Worse, my guts clenched when Firefly took a direct lightning strike from an Imperial mage who hovered just outside the vault. It knocked her hard to the ground and left her looking lifelessly out the open vault door as Gavian and several others struggled to defend her for just a few more moments, knowing their end was nigh.

And then the sun rose over the canyon just as dawn broke over the Loyalty for real, to reveal…

A hundred soldiers fallen
But in the end
The Corps stood tall!
Epsilon's battalion
Withstood all!

What we saw next seemed to be from Firefly’s point of view as the sun was suddenly eclipsed by the shape of the Loyalty moving in front of the storm cloud vault entrance; I felt a fierce swell of pride as my beloved ship’s guns then opened up on the griffons, crushing their grounded formations that were still waiting to enter the cavern.

Methinks what followed needed little explanation, but Silver Seax gave it anyway as the Nightborne watched spellbound whilst the Naval and Corps troops behind us had taken flight and entered combat formations, perchance seeking to assist the battle again.

The Loyalty arrived
To the Gryphon surprise
The Duty and Vigil at his sides
They crushed the attack;
They drove the Knights back
The Navy was true
As they made their rescue!

We saw half our air wing enter the cavern and clear it of enemy soldiers before making contact with the stunned Corps troops. Shaking off their shock and exhaustion, they began to obey orders to evacuate, but got interrupted by a duel I’d only barely heard about between the lead Fortis Knight and the Celestial Guardspony named Stormrunner—so that was where he’d gotten his ugly wound!—that the latter lost.

But to my great consternation, ‘twas promptly followed by a second challenge initiated by Gavian to the much larger earth gryphon, who he proceeded to best in stunning and quite skillful fashion, making me wish he could see this.

The scene then shifted to outside, where all three ships fought off the invading gryphon Talons—except one.

Boarded and lost,
His crew inflicted high cost
The Duty bought time for our friends
With Epsilon aboard,
We escaped the sword!
The Battalion was saved,
The Navy broke the blockade!

The doomed Duty was shown sacrificing himself in a massive magical explosion that took a century of gryphons with him. The sight caused myself and all the naval crew ponies to stand at attention and rigidly salute; there were tears in my eyes as I remembered the stricken ship’s final transmission.

But then the song abruptly ceased and the visions we were experiencing suddenly cleared from our minds along with the magic that had been suffusing the very air around us. I realized only then that I was sweating and shaking violently, my good wing splayed; a glance to my right showed that Captain Shady was equally affected, and even Captain Typhoon looked stunned at what he’d just seen.

The Nightborne themselves were alternately cowering, crying, taking a battle pose or just staring in sheer awe at Silver Seax and his band, who were now breathing heavily from their own exertions. But the bearded earth pony shook off his sudden fatigue to step over to the knocked-over crystal speaker stand and pick it back up, talking into it once more.

“That is what happened at Epsilon. And anycreature, whether bat or pony, who still doubts these events will be challenged by me and my brothers. We lost three of our kindred there, whilst the Corps lost over one hundred twenty of their finest. They were not just our friends, but comrades in arms, and we will not abide any slander of their sacrifice.” He looked pointedly at a shaking Councilor Corvis, who I had learned long before usually responded to those who told him something he didn’t like with sneering doubts or insults. But this time, he could not summon any spite and had to look away.

“We hope you have enjoyed this performance. For those curious, ‘tis a talent that runs throughout our clan’s entire extended line, to bring shared memories and past events to life through song. ‘Tis our offering to both sides, so that we may understand each other—and our mutual foe—better. I apologize to those who found this experience overwhelming, but war spares nocreature or nation. And I hope our honored guests from the Lunar Council understand now that the gryphons can not only beat you, but that they will not spare you.”

The Lunar Council and Nightborne soldiers had no reply as the Corps and Naval troops suddenly broke out into hoofstomping cheers. And when they died down, one of the Nightborne civilians—an aide to the Viceroy I’d met only briefly—approached the band. He looked dizzy and sweaty, his starched collar loose and webbed wings twitching.

He then spoke to Silver Seax in fluent Equish, bowing low before him like he was royalty. “I am Europa Universalis IV, junior aide to Viceroy Chardonnay. Methinks I doubted this tale, but I do no longer! You have inspired me to take up this fight, sir. And I hope the rest of my brethren as well!”

Silver Seax dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart, brave and noble Nightborne. But please do not bow to me. For I am no Princess; my brothers and I are merely humble bards.” He offered his hoof to bump instead.

Europa Universalis did so eagerly, then turned to the Captain of the Royal Guard, standing to passable attention before him. “Captain Typhoon! Regardless of the Lunar Council’s decision, I wish you to know that I volunteer for service with the Equestrian military. As ‘tis now clear to me that the gryphons must be fought and defeated, I refuse to be a simple record keeper any longer!”

His declaration broke the ice as he was shortly joined by a single, then several, then several dozen Nightborne soldiers from the platoon they’d brought on board. Having already donned their curious dual-bladed hoofstrikers during the song to see all the combat around them, they raised them high to the sky in screeing cheers as they offered their own soldier services.

Typhoon considered him for a moment, then smiled. “I will be more than happy to grant your request, young Nightborne scribe. But I ask that you not join just yet. Methinks your Lunar Council will need your services this bright morn as they decide on their course of action to come…”

Thank you for recounting this concert, Father, as neither myself nor Fell Flight could do so fully from inside our cells.

Which is not to say we didn’t experience it. We in fact both heard and saw the performance in our mind’s eye; witnessing everything you did as simple wood and metal did not attenuate the magical influence, even from three decks below. From what we later heard, in fact, everycreature within a mile or so of the music was affected, and even those further out saw a series of visions they could not explain.

—Firefly

There was, of course, no doubt of the veracity of the events to me and Fell Flight as we saw our own memories replayed before us. I could not see her in the cell beside me, but I had to stand up despite my pain just to take it all in, soaking it up like a sponge. The song had only barely ended before I found myself suddenly feeling far better, reminded of what we had accomplished—the major battles my battalion and the Navy had already won, to the great cost of the Gryphons.

And for the first time since we had been thrown into the cells whipped and wounded, I called to her. “Fell Flight?”

“Commander?” she automatically replied; from the height her voice originated, I realized she was standing as well.

I hesitated before speaking, still feeling unworthy of the title. “We did well at Epsilon, didn’t we?” ‘Twas mayhap a self-evident question, but I needed to hear its answer from another.

“We did very well, ma’am,” her voice came back, quite reverent at the song and vision we had witnessed. “And methinks we worked well together, too.”

“I want to go back to that,” I told her. “Back to being friends.”

“So do I, ma’am,” she replied sadly; mayhap the guards might have objected to us talking except they seemed too dazed to do so after their own experience with the Harmony-powered song. “Given how badly my wounds burn, methinks I much prefer being friends to enemies.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her, looking away from where she was. “‘Twas my fault for refusing to see how much your mentor meant to you.”

“‘Twas mine as well,” she replied, “for not understanding how much it hurt you to see Gavian forced to fight him. We were both foals, and we bear the scars to prove it. So what do we do now?” she asked me.

“We serve out our sentences and start over,” I decided, sitting back down on the wooden floor. “Be the exemplary soldiers Captain Typhoon expects and Equestria needs. The commander and second we were meant to be.”

“I would like that,” Fell Flight replied, then I saw her reach out her damaged hoof through the bars adjacent to my cell—I’d managed to slice it right through her hoofstriker at one point during our duel; as a result it still bore a lurid scar. “Friends?”

“Friends,” I answered, and then I grasped her hoof in my own, not letting it go until the guards rousted themselves enough to tell us to stop.

Looking back, ‘twas not one but two alliances born that day. One, of course, was the Nightborne allying with Equestria. The other was Fell Flight and myself reforging a friendship that would not only survive the war but the three decades since; a friendship that ‘tis certain will last to our dying days.

Though our sentries did not like it, we passed the time of our remaining confinement by discussing plans for when we retook command. We constantly bounced ideas for new tactics and training off each other, including and most especially how to bring the Naval air wing up to Corps levels of ability rapidly, given it seemed unlikely that we would stay on the Loyalty indefinitely. We also did what we could to exercise in our confines once our wounds allowed it, competing in contests of wing-ups and wind generation instead of mortal combat.

We were right about leaving the Loyalty, though methinks neither of us had any idea that our futures would not involve the Corps at all, or that Fell Flight herself would shortly join me in the Royal Guard once a new Corps commander took over from Captain Typhoon.

Speaking of whom, I fear his legacy may be slightly tarnished by the story of the duel and what happened after. So I wish it known that I bear him no ill will. There are many reasons for this, but chief among them is that Gavian reveres him, both for saving him and then enabling him to defeat Thunderbolt. For winning what some in the Kingdom say is the greatest duel in all of gryphon history, he does not in the least regret what the Captain did for him, even for the painful and lingering price he paid after.

Whatever its flaws, the Captain’s plan to salvage Thunderbolt ultimately worked, and ‘twas far from his only accomplishment in the conflict. He helped bring not just the thestrals into the war on the Equestrian side, but also another, even more powerful ally in time. And as fate would foretell, he would be the last in a long line of trainers and mentors for me that started with Windshear and included both my mother and Swift Strike.

‘Tis a legacy of selfless service that included a willingness to make difficult decisions, to say nothing of his mastery of an ancient and nearly-unrivaled combat art that he would eventually teach to me.

But all that lay past the end of our punishment period, which Fell Flight and I very much wish to skip. So do not be surprised if we are heard from little in the opening chapters of the next volume. The initial focus will instead remain on both the Equestrian Army on the retreat to Detrot, and the Nightborne as they readied themselves for war.

And also on the Royal Navy as Luna’s service prepared to reenter the conflict, tasked with fighting not one but two foes on opposite sides of Equestria.

—Firefly

As you say, Captain. ‘Tis certain I had my own issues with Typhoon during his stay, but ‘twas no denying all he accomplished in that short time. He made difficult and even unpopular decisions, but ‘twas always for Equestria’s benefit, and not his own.

‘Tis now mid-morning as I write this. I wish all present to know that Admiral Tailwind has gotten to witness the launch of the EAS Cutlass, which despite the best efforts of all, did experience some initial issues.

His speed and maneuverability means that his crew must use a somewhat delicate touch with him, as he seems prone to rocking or tipping in flight. But fear not, Admiral—‘tis merely his first voyage, and ‘tis certain we will correct the flaws that inevitably accompany a new ship design in due course.

—Commodore Shady

As unlikely as it sounds, the next four hours on board the Loyalty following the surprising song were spent in pure party.

The opening act of the concert was concluded, but even if it could not be topped, there was great demand for more songs. Silver Seax and his brothers obliged as best they could, offering up some of their older ballads speaking of battles with the forces of King Sombra and The Overmare from their native Swheaten’s past. Later, they even came up with some new and quite rousing martial melodies on the spot to great acclaim.

‘Twas a time of celebration and remembrance of events at Epsilon shared by not just the Corps troops and Naval crew, but by the Nightborne soldiers as well; before long even curious Cloudsdale civilians were joining in, invited aboard to mingle with us on the various decks of the ship. Better yet, the galley outdid themselves in coming up with various festival foods on the fly whilst Flash Fix, who had stood at rigid attention beside me in utter awe during the entire Harmony-charged performance, pulled out a keg of Lunar moonshine from his secret still and offered it up to all—with my permission, of course.

I gave it gladly—for how could I deny my crew and the soldiers of both nations this sorely-needed respite from war?—but did not have any myself, having had far too much drink the night before.

Our soldiers sparred with the thestrals, who demonstrated how they fought for the first time with double-bladed hoofstrikers in place of wingblades and very advanced crossbows that they could reload quickly, even in the air. I regret that they could defeat most of my air wing easily but not the Corps troops, though to their credit they held their own even against the well-trained remnants of the Epsilon battalion. Food was shared, stories were swapped, and before long, both sides seemed to have fully bonded under the morning sun, though there did come a time that the Nightborne needed to sleep.

The Lunar Council did not partake in any of this, however, though a still-stunned General Starry Skies gave his blessing for his soldiers to participate in the party. Methinks ‘twould be an enormous understatement to say both he and all members of the Council were impressed by what they saw. Methinks speechless at the display of raw music and magical talent might be a better way to say it.

Even so, ‘twas not enough for them, as they then conducted their own investigation of the events at Epsilon whilst escorted by Captain Typhoon and myself. They first asked to interview surviving Corps soldiers and even some members of our air wing, gunnery teams and bridge crew to confirm what they saw was real. When that was done, they next requested to visit Gavian in sickbay, some out of simple curiosity to meet an actual gryphon after seeing him duel Centurion Neal in the vision, but methinks more for wishing to know why he fought for Equestria.

After checking with the healers, who only allowed it on the condition that they kept their time with him brief, he answered all their questions even as he lay fallow on a cot, trying valiantly to hide the pain he was still in. When they asked him directly why he sided against his own race, he replied emphatically that he had not.

He explained instead that he had sided against the Empire, which had forsaken not just him but the noble heritage of gryphons. That he fought it because after all he had seen and experienced, it had been amply proven to him that it was neither honorable nor worthy of his race.

Having heard his fervent declaration of loyalty to Equestria and stated love for his ‘mother’, methinks ‘twas only then the Lunar Council understood what had caused the duel between Fell Flight and Firefly they had witnessed. And mayhap that in turn led them to seek out Thunderbolt and his side of the story in the next room over. Though methinks he was still quite hungover, he obliged them as well, explaining in blunt terms what horrors had happened to him at the IS-2 settlement, and again at Cloudsdale on the first day of war.

“I know not what the Empire offered you, but for the sake of us all, do not accept it. For no matter what they may tell you, take it from me that neither the Empire nor its agents can be trusted,” he told them directly. “Methinks I learned that the hard way twelve years ago, when they betrayed my former commander to annihilate an entire village along with my disarmed unit. And then again five days ago here in Cloudsdale, when they yet again struck without warning to slaughter civilians and soldiers alike.”

When asked directly if he still thought Gavian Ravenoff deserved to die, he paused before replying in a perchance non-committal manner that ‘twas clear to him that the Gods themselves had chosen the young tiercel as the gryphon champion. “Methinks our contest was not of individuals or nations, but races. By besting me in a battle of blades and wits when I had sworn their race’s destruction, he won the right of all gryphons to live,” he told them quietly, then politely requested they leave him alone again, as he had much to think about.

‘Twas a grudging admission, but an admission I nonetheless never dreamt I’d hear from him, leaving me wondering if Captain Typhoon’s plan might yet work.

Their final stop was the brig to interview Firefly and Fell Flight. The still-wounded pair stood to slightly trembling attention whilst profusely apologizing for what they had done, each taking full responsibility for the whole ugly affair over the objections of the other. But with the full story of their relationships to Thunderbolt and Gavian now explained, ‘twas far more clear to the Lunar Council what they had gone through and just why they were so willing to fight over their son and mentor, especially to the parents of the group.

“‘Twere it my two daughters endangered? Methinks I would have reacted no differently than she,” Colonel Aegir Ale decided with a respectful nod towards Firefly, now wearing her formal uniform for the visit of the Lunar Council. And for those wondering why she was not heard from much after our arrival at Cloudsdale, she had been pulled from the ship soon after our shared dinner.

‘Twas so she could be interviewed and investigated by a succession of officers, most notably General Starry Skies himself regarding her role in uncovering the plot of Major General Muscadine and helping the Loyalty reach Cloudsdale. I had heard little about that since, but I assumed that if she was here again, then the General was favorably disposed to her.

In the end, the Council spent more time talking with Fell Flight than Firefly, methinks wanting to make sure the former wasn’t secretly an agent of the Highborne sent to subvert them. General Starry Skies congratulated her somewhat grudgingly on how well she had borne up under her lashes, to which the former and future Master Sergeant replied somewhat shortly that she hadn’t done it only for his benefit. She said that as her mentor had endured far worse physical and emotional pain over the course of his life, she could not call herself his protégé if she gave into her own.

And when asked about her mixed heritage, she replied that though her lineage was all pegasus for as far as it could be traced and the origin of her eyes was unknown, she was ultimately loyal to her friends, family and the Equestrian nation, not to a High Priestess or mountain homeland she had neither seen nor visited—a land she’d barely even heard about before the Nightborne saw her and started calling her ‘Highborne’ as a slur.

Her answers seemed to satisfy them. They also seemed intrigued that she could see clearly and painlessly in daylight, though some Nightborne suggested ‘twas sacrilegious that she did anything to modify ‘the sacred gaze of Princess Luna’s servants’. To which Fell Flight replied that her enhanced eyes gave her the ability to thrive under Celestia’s Sun as well as Luna’s Moon, making her a rare creature that straddled both worlds. She also stated that it made her an excellent soldier; one that the gryphon raider gangs had feared even before the war began.

And so it went. By the time they were done, ‘twas nearly 10 AM, which was well into their usual sleep schedule when the Lunar Council finally elected to retire. But not to their rooms, or even back to Hollow Shades as they had originally planned. Instead, they asked to borrow my stateroom to debate what they had learned and the question of war they had been putting off for days.

We knew not what was being said in the soundproofed chamber, as we respected their need to discuss the matter privately; the only admittance we were given was when their aide and future Viceroy Europa Universalis IV emerged with various requests. Once was for food and drink that would keep them alert, whilst another time he requested copies of Thestralslovakia’s three-century old treaty with Equestria. Later, he even asked that Typhoon’s two Celestial Guardsponies formally testify before them regarding what kind of pony and ruler Princess Celestia really was.

‘Twas little we could do but await their decision whilst the party abovedeck continued, though methinks I truly believed that given they were holding their council meeting here on board the Loyalty, ‘twas but a foregone conclusion what they would choose.

I would not be disappointed. ‘Twas but two hours later and not long before noon that the Lunar Council emerged, looking tired but resolute. ‘Twas perchance fittingly under the height of Celestia’s sun that they gave Captain Typhoon a formal document written in excellent script, signed by the Viceroy and all members of their Lunar Council.

Whatever had happened behind closed doors, the Nightborne had chosen their side, as by a vote of 12-0—with one abstention; to this day I know not who since they signed their name to the document anyway—they decided to uphold their treaty commitments.

The document itself was then read aloud by Captain Typhoon over the ship’s magical speakers for the entire crew, who were still in a very good mood following the dawn concert and morning festival; the words it contained elicited cheers from inside and outside the ship.

‘Twas Thestralslovakia’s formal ratification of alliance with Equestria, and accompanying Declaration of War on the Gryphon Empire.

Thank you for your well-practiced quill, Commodore, and for all the passages you have penned in this long volume.

‘Tis Firefly speaking again. And thus does the third book of this recounting conclude with Equestria gaining a powerful new ally. I say that with no offense intended to the selfless sacrifices of Queen Lepidoptes and her Changelings on Equestria’s behalf, but at that point in the conflict, we desperately needed additional airborne soldiers and Army divisions more than a few infiltrators to help pass us intelligence. In winning over the Nightborne, we gained both, instantly making good our losses from the first week of war and granting Equestria a very strong night-fighting capability.

Methinks of all the actions we and the Equestrian Army fought that terrible and oft disastrous first week following the invasion, the campaign to gain their favor ‘twas the one battle we needed to win above all others. For without it, ‘tis very likely the war would have ended differently, though methinks the Lunar Council had no idea then what wrath their decision would soon bring down upon them.

For we were as yet unaware that the gryphons had gained a new ally of their own, and their entry into the war would soon tear Thestralslovakia asunder, subsuming her in a storm of gryphon, dragon, and Highborne soldiers alike.

But for me, I felt an odd serenity as I continued to lay in my cell, my whip wounds still aching. For what was there now for me to be upset about? We had survived the first week of war despite long odds. My son lived. The Nightborne were now our allies. Fell Flight and I were even friends again, and perchance better understood how deep each other’s loyalty to our loved ones truly went.

Mayhap ‘twas but the lingering afterglow of the magical concert, but somehow, I sensed that everything would be all right. That the Empire would not defeat us, and that Equestria would yet live. But as this recounting of war has now exceeded well over four hundred thousand words, methinks our publisher is getting a bit exasperated, given she originally thought that such would be the length of the entire war trilogy. And yet, here we now sit but a single week into the war and still have so far to go.

So ‘tis at her insistence that we will terminate this tome here and begin a new one later. That way, this work may be reproduced in full for civilians and soldiers the world over to examine and, if not enjoy, then at least understand what happened in those frantic first few days of war. ‘Tis a tale of triumph and defeat, love and loss, and the desperate efforts of a surprised and reeling Equestria to stave off defeat long enough for our true strength to tell.

‘Twould still be a very long time until that day arrived, of course. But as the pony nation recovered from its initial shock and began to ready itself for a long and bitter war, the process was already underway.

From the foundries and shipyards of Stalliongrad beginning the production of war materiel to the ponies swarming to Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps recruiting stations; from the rapid rush of existing Army and Corps troops to the front to the newly-ordered expansion of the Royal Navy, which had proven its worth many times over during the past week when competently led and equipped, the pony nation was mobilizing.

Despite their initially severe losses, the Equestrian armed forces were already beginning to rally and grow, and all the service branches would play their part in the nation’s defense. The Navy’s role would be especially crucial in the conflict to come, and even with only a single scratch battlegroup available at first, Luna’s service would be called on very heavily in the weeks and months ahead.

I offered the final word in this volume to Ambassador Kaval again, who remains in the Gryphon Kingdom for the time being. But he has declined, saying that as he concluded the original entry, ‘tis only fair and fitting that I do so myself for this one. So ‘tis time to put the publisher’s seal on this document before sending it out; I will do so with a parting toast to our lost friends, lovers and comrades in our old Epsilon storm cloud vault tomorrow.

I thank all readers for following this enormous undertaking, and all those who have contributed to it. Methinks it has rekindled interest in the conflict among both those who fought in it and the younger generation who did not experience it. And yet, instead of simply reopening old wounds, it seems to have oft helped salve them, strengthening the bonds of both old and new.

Thanks especially goes to Princess Celestia for originally requesting this work and convincing me to write it when I was reluctant, telling me that ‘twas for the sake of history and to help heal the wounds of war. You were right as always, My Princess, and I thank you as well for your own occasional contributions to this work.

For those disappointed to see this tale of war pause, fear not. We will resume its telling in a new volume soon, but for now, ‘tis a visit to Epsilon that awaits. Until then, I offer the well-wishes of General Rock Biter and his soldiers, Lycovenato and Queen Lepidoptes, Admiral Tailwind and Commodore Shady, Princess Celestia, myself, Gavian, Stormrunner, Aves Osprey, Swift Strike, Blindside, Fell Flight and all the surviving Bolt Knights. Know that we sign off this final entry with our hearts full of friendship and gratitude, comrades in arms once more.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

Author's Note

Welcome to the end, folks, and thanks for following this the entire way. It’s hard to believe I started this story six years ago, and no, I didn’t think it would go as long as it has. But that’s been the way it is for all my stories, as they quickly take on life of its own and end up expanding far beyond the bounds they were originally envisioned.

But I don’t regret any of it, and I hope you don’t either. It’s absolutely consumed me at times and been a labor of love; an immensely satisfying story to tell given it lets me cut loose with lore and worldbuilding.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and I’ve decided it’s time for this one to conclude. This enormous three-novel war epic is now being marked complete, but don’t worry—the war along with the story of Firefly and her friends will continue in a brand-new story in due time. If you want to be notified when it’s on the way, be sure you follow me.

I’d like to conclude this with a laundry list of thanks to prereaders both old and new: AJ_Aficionado, Leo Archon, Silentwoodfire, Silverblade5, Denim_Blue, and Wechsel. Special recognition goes to AJA and DB, as I ended up using their very well-thought out Thestral and Changeling lore, respectfully. Denim is no longer with us, unfortunately, having left the site, but his legacy lives on in this work.

And one parting note on the closing quote, which this time was less about the chapter than my personal philosophy on writing. The only thing I’d add to the end of that list is that you should never be afraid to offer your words, either.

Thanks again for following! And if you’d like to drop a tip for your author after all this work and horsewords I’ve given you? Feel free to drop me a couple bucks over at PayPal to firesight72@hotmail.com. It’s not necessary, but it would still be very much appreciated.

—Firesight

The War Begins: 1 - Prelude to Battle

Greetings to you, the readers of this tale.

I am Princess Celestia, and know that this foreword was not originally present in this tome. But recent events have compelled me to revisit this work and my memories of the Great Pony/Gryphon War.

Though many centuries have passed since the war and the life of Firefly, her influence and legacy are as present now as they ever were. Her story of a simple orphan who rose to warrior glory continues to inspire many even in the peaceful era of the present, though I know she would wish to be known less as a hero than a mother, sister and soldier. It was my greatest honor to call her friend and witness her many heroic deeds over her long life, and I have no doubt that her spirit watches over Equestria even now. The many medals and titles I bestowed on her pale in comparison to what she—and indeed, all her Bolt Knight comrades—gave back to all of us; a legend and legacy that would echo down through the ages...

A legacy that lives on today both in the Wonderbolts she founded, and the harmonious era we now live in. And yet, for all her valor, for all her warrior prowess and for all the untold engagements she won in the course of the war, I feel her greatest contribution was as a symbol of Equestrian resistance and fighting spirit, a larger-than-life figure who gave hope to a reeling nation in desperate need of it.

In this she succeeded brilliantly, but had things gone only slightly worse, it might all have been for naught. As I look back on those dark days, I can only marvel that we survived the initial onslaught that Firefly and her comrades will shortly describe. That we did was due to the bravery and sacrifice of countless soldiers and far too many fallen, and I am ashamed to say that my role in the conflict was limited by very clever Gryphon design. I would have spared all my little ponies the agonies to come if I could, and it is forever to my great regret I was unable to.

But it is also to my fiercest pride that even without my help, my beloved ponies rose to the challenge. That in the end, they were able to save themselves. For it is no exaggeration to say that even without the Elements of Harmony, it was friendship that sustained us…

And in the end, it saved us.

Signed,

—Celestia Daybringer
Princess of the Sun
Diarch of Equestria

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AE
0720 hours

Of all the ways I thought war with the Gryphons might begin, ‘twas not with an ambush or surprise attack.

As they were always given to overwrought displays at parleys, enjoying grand gestures and ritual, ‘twould have been a shock if they had not indulged in both as they approached my battalion and border base of Outpost Epsilon. Gryphon honor required that intentions be made clear and declaration of war or challenge be given before engaging, and thus, I did not fear a sudden strike even as a full Talon Cohort, five hundred strong, descended upon us and then fanned out to partially encircle us. Not even as they drew crossbows at a shouted Aeric command and aimed them at us.

Despite that, ‘twas certainly an intimidating sight, and I admit to a moment of fear to see it. We had never engaged gryphon soldiers before, and ‘twas clear from their well-spaced formation and synchronized movements they were far better trained and disciplined than the irregular raider groups we usually faced.

Still, rituals had to be followed and protocols observed on our side as well, and thus, I flew forth to address them, my Guardspony armor and Master Sergeant shoulder stripes making my identity as the Outpost Commander obvious, the short hairs of my shorn mane standing straight up as I felt a hundred crossbows aimed right at me.

Nevertheless, I did not falter, trying to set the example for both my own forces and our foes. “Gryphons! You are in violation of the border! Leave immediately, or your presence will be taken as an act of war!” I shouted into my blue command gem, its magic amplifying my voice so it echoed across the large border canyon that separated Equestria from Imperial lands.

To no surprise, none of them moved, remaining fifty yards away with crossbows leveled; ‘twas clearly their intention to rain as much death on us from afar before closing in to finish the job with cold steel. ‘Twas then that a single Talon Eagless, a Tribune by her chestplate and the command chain around her neck, flew forth to face us and then unfurled a scroll, reciting from it in surprisingly good Equish.

“Attention, soldiers of Outpost Epsilon! Attention Master Sergeant Firefly! I am sub-Tribune Yallis of the 16th Talon Legion! Listen and take heed!” she proclaimed a loud, clear voice for all to hear, speaking into an odd metal contraption that likewise amplified her words, letting them boom across the wide and dusty desert gorge.

“Know that as of dawn this day, the Gryphon Empire declares war on the Dominion of Equestria! It should be clear you are surrounded and outnumbered and have no chance at victory! But by the grace and mercy of our exalted Empress... I am instructed to offer you honor!” she told us in some disgust. “Surrender, and you will be treated well, held prisoner for the duration of the conflict! But if you resist…” she paused to look around at her assembled cohort, five centuries of Talon soldiers backing her, forming slightly more than a semicircle around us. “Know that no quarter will be given and that your force will be slain to the last pony!”

My lip curled. Even if I believed the offer was genuine—we knew full well the gryphons looked upon soldiers who surrendered without a fight as disgraceful and unworthy of any form of honor—’twas completely unworthy of consideration. None of us had joined the military to give up before a more numerous foe; none of us had trained for months or years to abandon Equestria without a fight. For the bonds we had formed, for the comrades we had lost, for our families, for our friends, and for our very nation, we were not about to surrender, even in the face of a much larger force that threatened us with annihilation.

With a glance around me, I considered my response carefully, and the proper tactics to use facing five hundred crossbows. ‘Twas odd, but I was actually relieved to only be facing an unsupported Talon cohort given ‘twas likely they had at least a full legion of five thousand soldiers in the area.

To be sure, Talons were well-trained warriors and my battalion of two hundred Equestrian Aerial Corps pegasus soldiers was outnumbered well over two to one, but they had no mages or other Knights supporting them. Which ‘twas not to say we did not face a fight; even Talon regulars were said to be on rough par with average Aerial Corps veterans. But after months of Guardspony-inspired training with weighted armor, even my rank-and-file were far from average soldiers by then.

Thus, my next words were anything but an empty threat. “I make you a counteroffer, Tribune!” I called back into my blue gem. “Withdraw your cohort at once, and we will not send your soldiers to their deaths! Methinks you know not what you face here, or you wouldst not have come here with so feeble a force!” As I spoke, I indicated our immediate strategy with two taps on the red command gem I still wore on my belt.

They would be felt as buzzes on the counterpart gems belonging to those of my platoon leaders, including our weather and unicorn healer teams still hidden down below, indicating which of the four enagement options we’d discussed in war councils earlier that day I was selecting.

In truth, the choice was easy as their own choice of tactics was foalish. In partially surrounding us both horizontally and vertically, they had spread themselves far too thinly, and at fifty yards distance, they had the worst of both worlds—too far away to hit elusive targets like pegasi with reasonable accuracy, but too close that they couldn’t reload fast enough before we could reach them.

Of course, five hundred bolts fired at once meant they didn’t need much accuracy, but if we could dodge or deflect their first volley, they might not even be able to draw their swords before our wingblades were upon them. And that would be their undoing; methinks I knew then we would win this fight.

Unaware of the flaws in her formation, the Tribune’s eyes narrowed at the implication, as did the few of her forces who understood me. To their credit, she and her soldiers kept their discipline despite the insult to honor; such a claim that their larger force was inferior would likely have induced the ill-trained gryphon raiders we normally faced to attack.

“So you wouldst choose a pointless death over life and the chance to see your families again?” she asked me contemptuously. “What you see before you is but the very tip of our spear! You know not our numbers or the ease with which we can defeat you! So are you truly willing to sacrifice your entire command here and now, Master Sergeant, to no honorable end?”

I didn’t reply right away. Less intimidated than angry, I felt a cold rage building inside me that they would treat my forces and my very nation so contemptuously. I looked to my left, then my right, my gaze touching upon my second-in-command and my four platoon leaders.

“We’re with you, ma’am!” Master Sergeant Fell Flight promised me, my hot-blooded half-thestral first officer with pegasus wings and slitted green cat-eyes looking ready and eager to fight. My four platoon leaders each gave me a pair of nods as well; Master Sergeant Stormrunner, Sergeant Blindside, Flight Sergeant Osprey and Second Lieutenant Snow Squall all indicating they’d received and understood my orders. The latter was scheduled to replace me as outpost commander when I left to join the Equestrian Officer Academy in a week, but had ceded command for now as my soldiers were more comfortable with me, though I did fulfill his request to lead a platoon as he had done in his enlisted days.

That I had been selected to join the academy was an appointment I had been honored to receive but ‘twas certain I would no longer be keeping. Regardless, he was ready for battle and so was the rest of my battalion; I saw nothing but anger and determination on the faces of my soldiers, a willingness to fight and die. War was upon us, and ‘twas now time to fulfill our duty to princess and province... and face the first of many trials to come.

“Equestrians! This is your last chance! Lay down your arms!” the Talon commander ordered, raising her taloned paw whilst pointing her scimitar at me, clearly preparing to tell her troops to loose their bolts and strike us down.

”Gryphons!” I shouted back, attitude for attitude as I raised my own hoof in response, adrenaline surging through me as I mentally prepared myself for combat. ”Come and claim them!”

As one, the sub-Tribune and I made sharp slashing motions downward and the War for Equestria began.

“The Art of War is of vital importance to a state. It is a matter of life and death; a road either to safety… or to ruin.” —Sun Tzu

Author's Note

Greetings to new and returning readers!

If you’re one of the latter, welcome back! If you’re one of the former, I’ve attempted to write this story so that reading the previous one, (Before the Storm: The Rise of Firefly) is unnecessary, but is still encouraged as it explains in exact terms how Firefly becomes the warrior and leader you will shortly see (she was NOT born a badass; she had to earn her skills) and how the Gryphon invasion came about. It also gives the backstories of the stallions and mares who will become the founding members of her Bolt Knights; the elite group that would one day become the Wonderbolts.

For those who are curious, Firefly first appeared in part 65 of the Turnabout Storm novelization channeled by Maya Fey (no, really), and later in chapter 11 of The Lawyer and the Unicorn. This series of stories actually sprung from the latter, which I will not link here because it is M-rated. If you’re interested, it’s available in my story page.

All that said, I emphasize again it is NOT necessary to read any other story before this one. Though this is a sequel and canon to two verses, it can be enjoyed as a standalone story; a sword-and-sorcery tale of a dark time in Equestria’s past. Enjoy!

The War Begins: 6 - Trial by Fire

As I write this chapter, I find many old memories awakened, recollections of battles past. I remember well the fear and terror I felt that first day of war, the crushing sorrow and anger we all experienced, the certainty of defeat followed by exhilaration of surviving. Though my contribution to this fight was by no means meager, ‘twas certain that it paled in comparison to the one who saved and inspired us all.

As I now live outside Fort Spur, I found myself compelled to visit again the statues that line the boulevard leading to its gates; the great Guardspony heroes of the past. My sister certainly earned her place in their ranks, but so did another. ‘Tis to him I dedicate this chapter, to a great warrior, trainer, and mentor… and my sister’s first father figure. Though I admit I could not fathom he could actually be such a thing to anypony for as harsh as his training was and all he put us through…

‘Twas not until the end that we understand why he did what he did. Methinks he saved us twice that day—once through his training, and once through an act of sheer honor and heroism that ‘tis certain neither I nor anypony present could ever forget.

—Wind Whistler

Return Engagement

Fort Spur
Armored Guardspony Training Base
North Campolina province
September 1st, 1139 AC
1340 hours

The battle between Windshear and the Red Talon named Pylea began with but a single grounded pass.

We all but blinked, and suddenly they were ten yards past each other and facing away, each with an extended blade from a slash. We heard the sharp metallic WHANG!of clashing blades and even saw sparks erupt from their collision, but afterwards, they were both unharmed… or nearly, a line of red appearing just above Windshear’s hoofstriker; metal gauntlets worn on our hooves that could be used as blockers or blunt objects. Wielded by an Armored Guardspony or even a regular earth pony, they could used to deflect blows, crush skulls... or for stronger ponies like Windshear, blast right through brick walls with a single buck.

“Not bad, Sergeant Major…” Pylea said as she turned back to face him, noting the very tips of her outermost right feathers had been sheared off by his wingblade. “Methinks I’m going to enjoy this.”

“This is not a game, Centurion!” Windshear replied in anger, ignoring his own wound, which appeared to be shallow. “And one exchange will not decide this battle!”

“I would be disappointed if it did!” she shouted back as the two launched at each other again, this time going airborne, and a rapid exchange of blows followed which we could follow only thanks to the sparks thrown off of metal on metal. The clash of blades produced orange sparks whilst those against the Talaeus armor were violet, the release of magic indicating her black onyx armor was enchanted against curses and could withstand far more than the usual amount of punishment. But so could Windshear’s; Guardspony armor—which recruits like myself did not yet have—were designed to withstand not just sword strikes but the elemental attacks of gryphon mages; the sparks off Windshear’s armor were blue.

At first, the pair seemed evenly matched, and I realized quickly that Pylea wasn’t bragging when she said the only way to defeat the attack was to defeat her—as good as she was, she could clearly take on and defeat many recruits at once; even the other trainers were unquestionably overmatched by her. And yet, it also became clear that the two had only been taking each other’s measure in the initial exchanges as they sped up even further, giving us even greater appreciation of Windshear’s full abilities that he could keep up with her. Still, that only went so far. As the fight wore on and I got a better sense of the pair, I was having to give the advantage increasingly to the Red Talon eagless.

In truth, I couldn’t help but admire her. Her movements were quick and sure, as graceful as any cat with very little wasted energy or effort. She had clearly been selected for her ability to counter his strengths well, from her cool temperament to her extremely quick reflexes and crisp technique. I knew not what she had done to earn the title of Talaeus, but she was every bit as good as she boasted, and Windshear, for every bit as good as he was, was hard-pressed by her speed.

‘Twas an interesting role reversal, actually, in that the advantages of gryphons were normally strength and stamina, whilst those of pegasi were speed and quickness. But Pylea turned that on its head with her hit and run attacks, wielding her single blade well even as she kept her second sheathed on her back. If I could describe the average Red Talon warrior, I would say they had the strength and armor of the Knights combined with the speed and sheer skill of the Ravens. We would face many of them throughout the course of the war, and they were unquestionably the best—or worst—of both worlds, possessing superlative combat skills in addition to the best armor and weaponry the Empire could provide. They were never to be trifled with, and woe to those who did not take them seriously. The Empire was a military meritocracy, and ‘twas certain you could not ascend to such a rarified rank unless you had proven yourself the very best there was.

They were very formidable, oft even incredible, but they were not invincible, as Windshear had already proven. He held his own and then some; it became clear he had done some damage of his own as the pair separated after the better part of a minute, both breathing hard and showing multiple wounds in the form of bruises and slashes, chinks in their armor and even some damage to their blades.

Despite her own injuries—which methinks included a bleeding flank and forearm; ’twas hard to tell against her backdrop of black-dyed fur—Pylea looked anything but unhappy. “Yes! YES!” the Centurion shouted in something almost akin to joy, her eyes glittering with excitement and sheer exhilaration as the watching Knights cheered her. “This is what I wanted! THIS is what I have so long sought!” she told him. “You do not disappoint, Sergeant Major! Our contest is a duel for the ages… one I will relish for a very long time not only for the rush of battle I feel, but the glory your death will earn me!” she told him.

“You are still treating this as a game, Centurion!” Windshear pointed a bloodied hoof at her. “You fight for glory and vengeance? I fight for princess and province! I fight to defend others, but right now, methinks you’re just fighting for yourself!” he told her.

Her grin only grew at that. “Perchance I am, pegasus. I do not deny I enjoy the thrill of fighting a worthy opponent, which is something I so rarely receive! But do not make the mistake of thinking that I have lost sight of my duty or objective here, Sergeant Major Windshear!” she told him, then her smile got something akin to evil. “I had hoped we might allow our audience to see this through to the end, but if that is the way it must be, then so be it! If ‘tis a war we fight... then a war your fellow Guardsponies shall have!” she turned and squawked an order at her side in Aeric; I knew just enough of the language to recognize their intent…

Or so I thought. “She’s ordering her mages to attack with fire!” I warned everypony, and we immediately braced ourselves, ready to counter with wind from our wings to deflect the blasts of elemental flame we expected to be launched at us. But instead of striking us directly, three of the mages retreated to the ground under the cover of the fourth, who shielded them as they formed a wide circle around the wooden mess hall and pointed their staves at its center.

Great gouts of flame erupted from the ends of their staves and set the structure ablaze. But even though it was already afire they kept adding more heat and flame to it. ‘Twasn’t clear what they were doing until they switched their elemental magic from fire to wind and turned their staves slightly outwards to the right, angling them to provide rotation in the air around the growing pyre…

And suddenly a spinning, cylindrical column of fire formed right over the burning building, feeding off the heat and air around it, becoming a veritable tornado of flame that quickly reached hundreds of meters into the air; its heat and suction intense enough that we could feel it from a hundred yards away.

“Holy…” one of my squadmate stallions said in shock as the mages started pushing the funnel towards us with their wind spells, their horrific creation incinerating the grass, trees, and small structures it encountered as it made its way inexorably towards us, fed by the very fires it set and spread.

“Pegasi! Stop that thing!” Even Ironsides sounded afraid, and he could hardly be blamed; if it struck the armory...

“It’s up to us, recruits! On me!” Our senior trainer, First Sergeant Sun Pillar, led us towards the approaching monster as the gryphons simply watched in great pleasure, waiting for their unnatural creation to do its work. I worried they’d open up on us with crossbows, but then I realized the hurricane winds we were encountering would just deflect them, and they knew it. And besides, why should they risk themselves by engaging us in such close proximity to the roaring, swirling column of flame?

Their choice of tactics was proven correct as it quickly became clear there was seemingly nothing we could do to stop it. A regular tornado or any other weather whirl we could decompose by getting inside it and using our wind magic to disrupt its circulation. With enough pegasi, it could even be done from the outside by simply circling it in the opposite direction to in essence unwind it. But here? Its overwhelming heat, chaotic winds and flaming fragments being flung outward in every direction forced us to keep our distance. Two recruits who got too close caught fire from the radiant heat alone; one fell the ground dead whilst the other frantically retreated whilst his friends beat out the flames with their wings.

“We can’t stop it!” A badly singed Sun Pillar warned Ironsides, the unicorns down below having no more luck holding it back with their shield or levitation spells as it closed within fifty yards, starting to pick up speed as it found more fuel and embers landed on the roof of the armory. And once it caught... “Run!”

Closing his eyes tightly, Ironsides gave the order to scatter as the twister closed in, Guardsponies in the ground and air fleeing at maximum speed. It plowed into the armory and then…

The explosion of explosive arrows, crossbow bolts, and crystals stored inside leveled the building and everything within a hundred yards, leaving us without our redoubt and the very weapons we could have used to withstand an extended siege. From the air, we could do nothing but watch in horror as some trailing Guardsponies were cut down by by the blast wave and flying debris, and worse…

No longer a tight formation, they were easy prey for the Ravens and Knights that suddenly descended upon them.

The Meaning of Honor

“Glorious, isn’t it?” I heard Pylea ask a stunned Windshear as the only momentarily disrupted twister took aim at the hospital next, where Bone Deep and the healer teams were stationed. I could understand his reaction; we were all frozen in shock as well as the Gryphon Knights split their force, half concentrating their efforts on our ground forces whilst the rest moved to surround us so we couldn’t assist our earth pony and unicorn comrades.

“You should be honored, pegasus. For this attack was inspired by your own Princess!” she said almost gleefully, her eyes all but glowing orange with reflected firelight. “But enough of such idle spectating. I will allow your recruits to see the results of this duel and at least a few to live so word of what happened here may spread! Now shall we resume our little match…?” She drew her second sword and brandished it, saluting him with it.

Windshear looked to the fire tornado, then back at us. He next raised his fire-illuminated face to her, something in his eyes and voice I didn’t immediately know how to quantify. “No, Centurion…” he said, not returning the gesture. “Our match is over. And you have lost.”

She gave him a strange look, her exposed fur and feathers whipping in the hot wind along with Windshear’s shorn cobalt mane. “Lost? Methinks not!” She pointed her blade at him. “Abandon the fight now, and you have no honor, pegasus!”

“Honor?” Windshear gave a short and bitter laugh as he set his jaw; methinks in hindsight he had just reached his resolution. “You want to know what honor is, Talaeus?” he asked her, and then used the chaotic winds against her, enhancing them with his wings to knock her off balance in the air fractionally as he charged in and tackled her, accepting a sword to the stomach as the price for getting her into a death grip.

“Sergeant Major!” we called to him in shock as he locked his forelegs around her and pinned her wings with his strength, then head-butted her hard to stun her and keep her from trying to break free.

I knew not his intention or why he’d accepted a likely-mortal wound, until he dove hard for the tornado with her in grasp.“Here is your honor!” I just heard him shout as with her struggling and shortly screaming form he flew them right into the inferno; they both caught fire just before disappearing inside it.

“NO!”we cried out as the initially well-defined tornado of flame shivered, faltered… and finally collapsed as Windshear tore it apart with his wind and flight magic from within. The previously suspended column of embers and flaming debris then crashed down right on top of him, burying him and his captive Red Talon beneath it; we would find very little left of either combatant once the ashes could be searched.

“By the sun…” somepony said, and I could not but agree with the sentiment. In one fell swoop the Sergeant Major had just taken out the Talaeus commander and the tornado, saving the hospital and perchance, our entire base. His act of sheer heroism and sudden disappearance of the twister had drawn the attention of all, as the fighting stopped long enough for all present, both pony and gryphon to gape.

Our trainers saluted, several crying openly, and my own eyes were wet as well as my right hoof went rigidly to my forehead, giving the sharpest salute I could make. I do not think we knew until that moment how much we had admired the Sergeant Major or how much we had bonded with him over the course of our training. I would not have thought it possible at first, but he had become our mentor and even in an odd way a father during the past four and a half months, and for it we reacted no differently than we would have to lose our teacher and sire.

The evidence of that was made plain as grief quickly turned to rage and our platoon of forty prepared to avenge our Sergeant Major, no longer caring about the disparity of numbers we faced. “Guardsponies!” First Sergeant Sun Pillar called to us, lowering his head and aiming himself for the heart of the Knight formation. “For Windshear and for all Equestria! ATTACK!”

Forgive me, but I must pause before continuing this story as I find myself too choked up and trapped in the same emotions I felt then to continue. ‘Twas far from the only time I would face death or see my comrades fall in the course of the war, and yet... this is still the one I remember most keenly, the most selfless feat of sacrifice I can ever remember. If ever an act earned ascension to the Summerlands and to be immortalized for all time, it was his.

—Wind Whistler

Falter not, my friend and former foe. As I read your account of these events now—our own reports of this action were understandably fragmentary and did not even begin to do what happened justice—I note that the Sergeant Major said he would show my Talaeus what honor was, and ‘tis without question he did. ‘Twas an act both sides would find worthy of remembrance and reverence, even then, and thus I call upon you to honor him by continuing your story, much as you then continued on to fight in his name. I cannot pretend to know your pain, but perchance a quote from your own base commander, then-First Lieutenant Ironsides, will ease it:

“’Tis foalish and wrong to mourn the ponies who died. Rather we should thank Celestia and the sun itself that such ponies lived.”

—Layan Kaval

I thank you for your words of wisdom and comfort, Ambassador. I had initially written my sister asking her to let somepony else finish telling this story as I felt too distraught to continue, but now that I have received your response and had time to think upon it, I believe you are correct. I will indeed press onwards, just as I did then…

Just as Windshear wished us all to.

—Wind Whistler

For the Fallen

I am normally a pony very reserved in her emotions.

‘Tis simply the way I have always been. I have never been hot-blooded or quick to anger; ‘twas what made me such an excellent friend to Firefly growing up, as she herself once called me the ‘voice of reason’ to her previously impulse-driven life. I kept her fighting instincts in check and grounded her, keeping her from getting carried away by her flights of warrior fancy or biting off more than she could chew, as she had a propensity in her youth to find and challenge those bigger and better than her.

And yet, ‘twas all being thrown out the proverbial window as a white-hot rage took hold of all of us, and I felt my own fighting blood rising for what in many ways was the very first time. ‘Twas not that I’d never fought before; I’d certainly seen my share of sparring matches and even bar brawls with Firefly over the course of our upbringing and time we spent together, never mind the five months of basic training I’d just had. But now…?

Now I wanted nothing more than to kill those who had brought about the death of our beloved mentor and trainer, ready to die along with him if it meant taking the life of the Knights and Ravens who had invaded our base and brought war to our land. Now under the command of First Sergeant Sun Pillar, we charged the center of their formation, taking advantage of the momentary shock they suffered seeing their commander killed and the tornado of fire they’d been using against us along with it.

We were upon them quickly and managed to break through their aerial cordon, taking down seven in quick succession with local advantage in numbers and scattering the remainder, suffering two casualties of our own. My own blades did not immediately draw blood then, though I did deliberately angle an attack to make one Knight dodge right into the path of my wingcolt, who took off a wing and sent her plummeting.

Our well-trained foes recovered quickly, however, as another gryphon, this one bearing the armor and insignia of a First Spear, took command and directed her forces to open up on us with their crossbows, firing armor-piercing bolts. We reacted instantly and instinctively to take evasive action, engaging in a series of loops and other maneuvers we’d been taught to throw off their aim and return us to formation quickly. Still, it only went so far; I heard several pained cries and at least one bolt glanced off my shoulder armor. But in testament to our newfound endurance and hardened physiques, not one of us was knocked from the sky for it, those hit continuing to fly and even fight.

But instead of staying to engage them, Sun Pillar quickly and wisely directed us at full speed to our comrades’ defense, trying to reestablish contact with Ironsides and the ground-based Guardsponies now trapped in a running fight. They were trying desperately to establish a new defensive cordon around the hospital using whatever cover was available. The Knights and Mages were raining death on them in the form of explosive bolts and lightning whilst our beleaguered friends countered with spears and longbow arrows punctuated with the occasional spell or crossbow bolt.

The sky gryphon Wind Knights were quickly learning that Guardspony skill with such weapons was not to be trifled with, however, as we saw more than one fall from the sky as we closed in. Sun Pillar fired a flare warning of our approach and received an answering one from the horn of a unicorn trainer; fire slackened just long enough for us to reach the cordon and a volley of longbow arrows then greeted our pursuers, forcing them to scatter.

“Sir! Orders?” Sun Pillar asked as he skidded to a halt before a singed-looking Ironsides.

“If we’re going to survive this day, we need to take out their mages!” Ironsides gritted his teeth as another bolt impacted the area with a loud BOOM! deflecting off a faltering unicorn shield; Bone Deep and his healer team had been forced to abandon their triage duties and join the defense, adding their own power to our protection. “But they’ve got a dampening field up and our unicorns can’t teleport close enough to counter them!” He nodded upward where the mages were hovering a hundred yards away; two were casting shields that protected themselves and a second mage, who cast the offensive magic. An occasional crystal-tipped longbow arrow was aimed their way but a wind spell deflected it, causing it to flutter harmlessly away.

‘Twas the perfect strategy; one defending and the other attacking, making them very difficult to defeat. Worse, Guardspony pegasi had no real means to break through a magic shield without lightning of our own… but the Ravens had destroyed our storm cloud cache early in the attack. We hadn’t seen much of them since, though I’d spotted at least fifty of the lightly-armored grey-dyed assassins on approach. Methinks they were being used primarily to clear buildings; to capture intelligence and trophies to take back to the Empire—proof of the Imperial victory here.

A victory that, despite Windshear’s sacrifice, seemed all too likely then. “Give us some crystal-tipped spears, sir!” Sun Pillar offered. “We’ll deliver them on target!”

“Right…” Ironsides grimaced, knowing what kind of losses we were likely to suffer in the attempt. “We’ll give you what cover we can but have to stay hunkered down here…”

“No, sir!” I shouted abruptly, causing everypony to look at me. But I couldn’t help it, for I knew instinctively... “That’s exactly the wrong course to take!”

The First Lieutenant stared at me in disdain and disbelief. “What in Celestia’s name are you talking about, recruit?”

A fresh lightning strike and a pained cry emphasized my words as the owner’s shield flickered out. “Sir, look around you! If we stay here, we’ll be ground down to nothing! A static defense is suicide! They have the numbers and the air whilst we can’t even use half our force!” I motioned to the mostly idle Earth Ponies who looked very frustrated, unable to do much but hunker down inside unicorn shields and launch an occasional spear or crossbow bolt, their great strength and stamina useless against airborne opponents.

Sensing I had his attention, I pressed on. “With just thirty pegasi, we might get lucky and be able to take out one or two mages, but ‘tis certain we’ll be wiped out in the attempt and then you’ll have no way to defeat them! It’s a mathematical equation, sir, one we will lose on both ends! We only have so many ponies and so much magic and arrows remaining! Methinks if we stay turtled up as we are now and send out only pegasi to run that gauntlet of Knights, you’ll lose your remaining air power and worse, the mages can then simply wear us down or generate another tornado at any time! Once our shields collapse or they force us to flee again, they’ll close in and finish us!”

Ironsides looked unhappy at being given tactical advice by a recruit, and had this been any other training day, ‘twas certain I would have been excoriated for it. But here, he considered my words and had enough sense and past combat experience to realize I was right. “So what do you suggest, recruit?” He knew full well I was Firefly’s sister, but methinks he never knew quite what to make of me; my talents and mindset being so different from hers. By the end of her basic training, she could take on any number of trainers and win, including Windshear himself. But me…?

‘Tis worth saying again that I would never be my sister’s equal in sheer combat ability, but that did not mean my more cerebral nature could not come into play. Methinks I had studied much of military history and tactics over the years, taking to then quite readily, and I’d also learned I had talent for winning fights and brawls simply by being able to instinctively read the movements and intentions of others, oft able to put them down quickly for it.

But did that ability extend to a desperate duel with the Imperial Elite in which we were now outnumbered worse than three to one? ‘Twas certain I didn’t know, but ‘twas also certain I didn’t have time to think about it. So I just spoke, knowing how my next words would likely sound.

“Sir! We must bring the battle to them and force them to fight on our terms!” I told not just him but everypony present. “The Sergeant Major was right when he said that we, not the base, must live! And thus, if we are to survive this day, then we must not lock ourselves into defending the Fort or its buildings…” I took a deep breath to steel myself before I spoke my next words, knowing how they would be received.

“We must take the offensive, sir! We must attack!”

Defying Fate

Ironsides went incredulous and those who could hear me weren’t much better. “Are you out of your moon-damned mind, recruit? You want us to launch a banzai charge?” He clearly was as learned in military history as I was, and knew full well from Neighponese stories how such desperate tactics ended—with all attackers dead.

“No!” I shook my head hard. “Hear me out sir! Methinks I know how we can take out the mages and bring the Earth Ponies into the fight…” and without waiting for invitation, I spent the next two minutes explaining what to do, trying not to lose focus for all the death being rained down upon us, not knowing when or if the unicorn shields would yet give out.

When I was finished, Ironsides could only stare at me in disbelief… and at least a small modicum of respect. “Such a plan is either madness or brilliance…” he finally said. “But methinks we have little choice. If we stay here, we die, so far better to turn and fight! Guardsponies! Listen and take heed…!” he shouted new orders into his command gem, bringing the trainers to me so I could explain to them my plan.

It took three minutes to pass word, and more time than that to organize ourselves for the attack. ‘Twas just in time, as it turned out, as ‘twas also the point the gryphons finally tired of our obstinence. ‘Twas then that a Raven reached the First Spear, and a quick discussion ensued. Whatever was said, the acting raid commander gave new orders, perchance sensing that the longer they stayed, the more likely ‘twas that reinforcements would arrive. Thus, she ordered her mages to create a second twister to crush us.

I’d wondered why they hadn’t done so sooner, but the answer—I would later learn—was threefold: first, ‘twas magically draining to create one and doing so multiple times could exhaust a mage’s power, and second, as oft-uncontrollable as it could be, ‘twas no guarantee ‘twould not turn on them instead. Regardless, they duplicated their previous tactics, with three Magus Knights landing some distance away from us around a cleared structure, whilst the fourth stood guard to protect the process along with a cordon of a dozen sky gryphon Wind Knights that would normally be almost impossible to break through.

The third weakness of creating a tornado was the time it took, and ‘twas this one we then took advantage of, our unicorns teleporting themselves high overhead with two pegasi or one spear-armed earth pony. This tactic would only work once, but once would have to be enough…

Half our group materialized three hundred feet overhead, outside of the ground dampening field range and where none were looking, a nearly fifty-strong mixed Guardspony force that immediately dove on our adversaries, blindsiding them. Directed in their fall by unicorn auras, Earth Ponies drove spears right through Knight armor whilst escorting pegasi cleaned up the remainder with wingblades, attacking their unarmored wings and hindquarters from behind, slaying them or forcing them to the ground where the now-grounded armored earth ponies could kill them quickly. Duplicating mage tactics, one unicorn levitated both himself and a comrade who opened up on the mages from above with their longbows, quickly bringing down the hastily redirected shield of the fourth mage, who died in a hail of crystal-tipped arrows designed to defeat magical shields, her bolt-riddled body falling lifelessly to the ground.

Suddenly defenseless, the mages on the ground were charged by the earth ponies and forced to abandon their efforts to create the tornado before it had really begun, scattering to the air and scrambling to erect shields, screeching for help from their surprised comrades, who were only starting to react to our sudden strike. I watched in satisfaction as I saw the events unfold and a second mage fall, this time to Sun Pillar himself, who caught and decapitated him with a wingblade after the gryphon caster’s shield was likewise shot down.

‘Twas then that Ironsides put the second part of the plan into motion. “Guardsponies! Strike!” We then took advantage of the distraction and split defense to abandon our defense of the hospital and charge for the battle site, intending to cause enough chaos and keep Knight attention on us long enough for our forward force to kill the remaining two mages, then reunite our separated force and finally be able to turn the tide with our new monopoly on magic.

But no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy, and such ‘twould it be here as a series of grey blurs appeared and suddenly a unicorn and two earth ponies fell to Raven blades; the assassins had been watching from the shadows ready to pick off isolated targets and close in when our shields had finally fallen. They slew six quickly and scattered many more of us with tossed explosive gems, then took flight and escaped as quickly as they appeared, letting the Knights regain their bearings and swoop down upon us with crossbows, scimitars, and metal talons, finally closing in to finish us off with cold steel. If they succeeded, instead of facing them with a full force, we would be destroyed in detail…

And as it had been my plan, I feared ‘twas all my fault...

Counterattack

‘Tis said that the gods of war are capricious, and that fate is a fickle master, but something I would learn well over the course of the conflict was it applied to both sides. We had done our worst, but in the end, we could not win without reinforcements we did not have…

Or so we thought as suddenly white bolts of lightning lanced out from above the gryphons, spearing several of them and a fresh volley of longbow arrows reached us, taking down half a dozen more. They were coming from the direction of the town of Spur, and their origin soon resolved… into a charging force of nearly ninety civilians, mostly retired Guardspony trainers and other military veterans who still lived near the Fort. They had pulled out their old armor, bows and blades whilst the pegasi amongst them had gathered naturally occurring clouds from above the nearby mountaintops to use as weapons. Seeing the battle unfold from the town, they had organized themselves and come to our aid, a wingblade-armed pegasus mare wearing a black bodysuit and mask at their forefront, and their timing could not have been better as they forced our adversaries to split their defense a second time!

A great cheer came up along with some slightly panicked squawks as the gryphons shifted again to meet an unexpected threat and we engaged the Knights closest to us with blades and bows, our earth ponies finally able to get into the fight in a meaningful way. And their ranks included...

There was a light grey blur; a different hue from the Ravens, but one that mixed among them and resolved into a knife-spinning earth pony mare with shorn mane and training armor who slew two of the assassins quickly. She showed superlative blade combat skills, dodging her opponent’s attacks with ease and retaliating with blinding speed and strength, slashing throats and impaling a third with a thrown blade. She wore not the pink fur and blonde mane I’d initially seen her with so many months earlier, the ones she’d had when my sister bested her in a duel in the first day of basic, but the light grey dye of Earth Pony guard recruits, and she was the only other mare than myself to have made it through training this far.

The Armored Guard did not teach knife-fighting skills such as she was demonstrating. But the other half of the Royal Guard, the Plainclothes Security Division responsible for guarding royals and nobles, did! “Tulip Vale!” I recognized her as the PSD mare who had challenged and been bested by my sister on the first day of basic. She gave me a startled look in response, then all but sneered.

“So you made it…” she told me in some disgust, her eyes glittering with something almost akin to enjoyment as she fired a wrist-mounted combat crossbow that was standard issue for earth pony Guardsponies, her bolt finding a gap in Knight armor but not killing him. “If we survive this, you can tell your sister that I’m still going to demand a rematch!” she told me as she reloaded the crossbow with her mouth.

“Methinks she won’t mind!” I rejoined as we went back to back for a moment. I used a gust of wind to fling away a thrown explosive gem where another Raven was located, causing it to detonate harmlessly away, then took flight to rejoin my improvised squad and take on a Knight decade, both sides now finally able to fight in something approaching a proper formation.

I’d lost track of the rest of the battle at that point, but I did realize that now three mages were down and, as I watched, the fourth was overwhelmed by magic beams from a dozen Guardspony unicorns. They were out of arrows, but they overtaxed her shield with massed magical force until finally her stave shattered, leaving her defenseless. She did not last long after that, slain by an earth pony-thrown spear through the chest.

We had taken out the Red Talon commander, the mages, and even been reinforced. And yet… what we were left with was an even fight between the Equestrian and Gryphon elite. Worse, most of the trainers were down as the Knights knew to focus their efforts on them, and the recruits took increasing casualties as well; not quite fully-trained or able to keep up with Knights. The Ravens were even worse; their lack of armor gave them a decided speed advantage and they specialized in hit and run attacks, slowly whittling us down.

My eyes then went wide at a sudden thought, mentally kicking myself for not seeing it before. ”Recruits! Remove your armor!” I told my squad, quickly doing so myself.

”What?” the ones who could hear me yelled, and twas certain I could hardly blame them as on its face, what I was proposing was insanity.

But I persevered. “It’s slowing us down and right now, we’re better fighters without it! Remove it, and we will be stronger and swifter than they in the air!” I told him, emphasizing my statement by performing some very rapid aerial maneuvers unencumbered by my own. I had no idea at that point that I was demonstrating the same benefit that my sister’s soldiers had realized by training in weighted armor, but I wish it known here and now that she figured it out long before me.

None of my fellow recruits immediately obeyed—I had no authority to give anypony orders—until a Wind Knight suddenly saw me isolated and swooped in to engage me one-on-one.

Upon approach, he fired a crossbow bolt at me that I barely dodged, the bolt grazing my flank then charged me with his scimitar held overhead in a two-hoof striking stance. Physically, he was my equal or better, as I quickly learned from his jarring hits to my wings, sparks flying from the clash of bare metal.

And yet, his initial attack missed me. So did his second, despite my panic. ‘Twas then I started to realize two things—that I could see each of his moves clearly before they happened, and shorn of my heavy armor, his speed could indeed be met by my own. He was stronger and yet, I parried his blows almost effortlessly for knowing where they would come.

Downward slash. Right cross. Upward thrust. Reverse stab. I realized to my shock that after months of training and combat practice, after years of sparring and training with my mother and Firefly herself, I could see not one, not two, but three or even four moves ahead! ‘Twas then I spotted an opening and my acquired instincts did the rest, a downward cut that took off his foreleg at the elbow with a shocked shriek followed by a spinning reverse slash that connected with his neck at a joint in his armor, ripping his throat open and causing a great gout of blood to erupt.

I might have been shocked at my own actions, but there was no time for it; not if we were to survive this day. Seeing how well I was able to fight and slay my target, my compatriots immediately dropped all but their helmets and hoofstrikers, and soon found themselves likewise able to evade and engage with their wingblades alone far more easily, forming up on my wings.

“We’re with you, commander!” one called to me, an improvised title since I bore no rank other than recruit. I had never intended to take command, but now I had it, leading my remaining force of eight Guardspony pegasus recruits into the fray, suddenly far more effective fighters as we began dropping the Knights one by one, gradually gaining advantage…

‘Twas only then that I dared dream that we might yet win the day.

It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. —George S. Patton

Author's Note

Well, folks... I’d been telegraphing this punch since the last chapters of Rise of Firefly, implying that Windshear would fall. I know some readers may be upset, but this is the kind of pony he is, dying on his own terms and willingly sacrificing himself to save others in an incredible act of heroism that will be remembered for all time. An act that will inspire not just the Guardsponies and recruits who witnessed it, but in time, all of Equestria as well. So, I’m sorry if anyone’s upset, but this is war, and those near and dear to us may fall.

I also apologize for not having the map of Fort Spur ready as I had hoped to illustrate the progress of the battle, but I really had to take a break from mapmaking because it is VERY time-consuming and difficult work. I’ll come back to it later, or try to, but the lack of a map shouldn’t detract at all from the chapter itself.

Thanks as always to my terrific prereading crew, whose names by now you know well—AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, Denim_Blue, and co-writer Leo Archon who has already written major chunks of multiple upcoming chapters. The Battle for Fort Spur will conclude in the next chapter, which is not yet complete. I will try to have it ready by week’s end to conclude the opening arc, and then the scene will shift back to Firefly and Outpost Epsilon. In the meantime, thank you very much for coming on board for the start of the story, and hope you’re enjoying the ride!

The War Begins: 7 - A Star to Sail By

Once more I must pause this tale to gather myself. But before I complete it, I wish it known, Ambassador, that your tactics to take down Fort Spur and all within it were superb.

‘Tis certain that no matter what plans I or anypony else came up with, ‘twould have been for naught had it not been for Windshear’s sacrifice and the surprise appearance of the retired Guardspony veterans, who suffered terribly that day but proved the old Armored Guard adage—’once a Guardspony, always a Guardspony’.

—Wind Whistler

You flatter me and honor them, esteemed friend, but as I reread the previous chapter, I do feel compelled to correct you on one point:

‘Tis not true that I selected Centurion Pylea for her ability to counter Windshear. She was in fact not the original choice to lead that raid; she was forced into the role as Centurion Hylias, the Talaeus I had personally selected to lead the attacks, was unavailable due to the early outbreak of war. He was in fact the one I chose to fight the Sergeant Major for the very simple reason that he fought the same way with the same strengths, and thus, if he could defeat your best on his own terms and in his own style of fighting, the victory would be all the more momentous for it.

Would the outcome have been any different had Hylias been present? ‘Tis no way to know, but I do note that he survived the entire war and later succeeded me in command of the Gryphon Kingdom’s armed forces; a post he holds to this day.

—Layan Kaval

I stand corrected, Ambassador. I will finish this tale now, and know again that your forces fought superbly and were in many ways only undone by happenstance.

—Wind Whistler

I cannot but disagree, worthy foe. Fortune favors the brave and the bold, and ‘twas that which you and all ponies present showed in great quantities that day. ‘Twas a triumph worthy of remembrance and song, and you should not disparage your own role in it. For as you yourself stated... had you not come up with the plan and tactics you did, we would have won the day and Windshear’s sacrifice would have been in vain.

—Layan Kaval

Meeting Engagement

Deprived of their mages, the battle for Fort Spur was now fought on far more even terms.

But even terms did not guarantee our victory, even with finally having the magical advantage. Gold-hued Knight armor was enchanted, same as Guardspony armor, rendering their wearers resistant if not immune to unicorn spellcasting. The senior NCOs amongst them most of all; more than once I saw a magical beam deflect off a chestplate and its originator take a crossbow bolt for their trouble.

For all we already accomplished, the most we could say was that the battle hung in the balance and we were in a meeting engagement at best. For despite having lost their commander, their mages, and by then over a third of their assault force, the gryphons were still fighting and fighting hard; still trying to win the day and complete the destruction of our base along with its contingent of Guardspony trainers and recruits.

The First Spear led her decimated force well in Pylea’s absence, the Knights were still our equals, and the Ravens were bloodying us badly with their hit-and-fly attacks, appearing and then disappearing with a dead recruit or two in their wake. And I might have been one of them as I took my squad of eight recruits into action, engaging an isolated group of Knights as they flew in a group of three over the Fort Spur battlefield looking for grounded targets of opportunity; isolated earth ponies and unicorns they could pick off.

When we challenged them instead, they retreated before us in what I first thought was recognition of our superior numbers and speed, flying low over Ironsides’ headquarters bunker, which had already been captured by the Ravens. I noted that fact idly as we pursued them, closing the distance quickly, but did not take it to the conclusion I should have as a group of four grey-dyed gryphon assassins suddenly burst out of the building beneath us as we passed, two targeting me as the squad leader.

My heart stopped at that moment. I had just enough time to see them, recognize the threat, realize my own foalish mistake and that the Knights had led us into a Raven ambush… and that as quickly as they could strike, I could not possibly stop or evade them. I was as good as dead at that moment; methinks they had me and at least half the squad in their sights…

Agent of Shadow

Until suddenly there was a blinding burst of light as a flash gem went off followed by a scream. My squad took evasive action and by the time our eyes cleared the two lead ravens were staggered in the air by a pair of black-hilted throwing blades that had penetrated their leather armor and impaled their chests, sending them back to the ground. The rear two were then engaged by my savior, a pegasus mare wearing a black bodysuit and mask with equally black wingblade harness and a series of stilettoes belted to her chest.

A one-on-two blade fight against Ravens was normally a losing and very lethal proposition, but she was easily their equal; though not immediately able to best them she held them both at bay until we could circle back, at which point the Ravens recognized the worsening odds and quickly retreated back into the building through the skylight whence they had come. The newcomer tossed in an explosive gem after them which blew out the windows of the room and would have left the Ravens dazed and deafened even if they survived.

I recognized her by her fluid movements and favorite combinations instantly, having sparred with her a hundred times in the past during my pre-basic training, and the realization brought tears to my eyes.

“M… mother?” I called to her. “Mother???” I asked again as my squadmates stared stunned, befuddled by their close call and my reaction.

“Sloppy, my daughter…” she admonished me without any hint of emotion, all business as she removed her black mask to reveal… the blue-furred and red-maned face of my mother, Silent Night, a retired member of Equestria’s own warriors of shadow, the Black Lances. In hindsight, ‘twas impossible that she not be present that day, given our home was just outside the base; the same home she had raised me in and where I still lived before basic had begun.

“Reunions can wait! Take me to your commander, now!” she ordered me not as mother to daughter but as Sergeant to subordinate, and as badly as I wanted to hug her and collapse crying in her arms, I recognized ‘twas not the time and obeyed, escorting her back to Ironsides. He was behind a cordon of Guardsponies and unicorn shields, trying to coordinate the counterattack with several trainers and recently arrived Guardspony veterans.

“Sir!” I saluted, noting his eyes go wide as he recognized my mother’s uniform. “This is my mother! She led the outside attack!” I belatedly remembered seeing her at the front of the formation as they charged in, kicking myself for not making the connection before.

He looked her over from head to toe. “And you are...?”

In response, she removed a patch on her shoulders showing the subdued seven stripes of her Aerial Corps rank, three upright Vs topped with four ‘rockers’. “Sky Sergeant Silent Night, former commander of Lance Team Two, at your service, First Lieutenant,” she said with a salute. “Sorry we couldn’t get here to help sooner, but we had to arm ourselves and organize first.”

He stared at her in some wonder as he returned the salute. “Methinks you saved us, Sky Sergeant. But ‘tis certain we’re still in a fight here! We’re starting to drive back the Knights, but the Ravens are killing us!” His words were punctuated by a sudden boom of thunder as pegasi tried to bring lightning back into play; such tactics were usually good for only one or two kills before accurate crossbow fire or marauding Ravens either slew the improvised storm teams or forced them to flee their clouds. “Since I assume you’re more familiar with them, perchance you can help...?”

“‘Twould be my pleasure, sir…” She bared her teeth and grinned. “Methinks the Ravens are old friends of mine, but not even I can take them alone. I will need some help and somepony familiar with room clearing tactics to take the lead with me…” she said, leaving me with some new appreciation for her and perchance where I had gotten some my own tactical acumen from.

Orders were exchanged, my suggestion for who best to accompany her was accepted, and a unicorn trainer then teleported away, to return with… a familiar earth pony mare whose mouth-wielded short sword was bloodied. Her pale gold eyes instantly locked onto Mother’s black uniform, and she immediately came to attention and saluted in something I hadn’t seen from her before—genuine respect.

My mother returned the gesture and looked her over. “PSD?” she guessed.

“Emerald Edge,” the earth pony mare replied in visible pride, tossing her sword up in the air with a flick of her head and then shifting herself slightly so it landed neatly in its side-mounted scabbard. The Emerald Edge was a very advanced knife fighting and threat detection course the PSD gave to select members, enabling them to conduct hostage rescues as well as spot and slay assassins like the Ravens quickly; ‘twas given its name from the award for passing it, which was an emerald-hilted blade.

“Truly? Show me!” Mother directed, tossing the other mare a stiletto off her chest belt, putting spin on it to make it difficult to catch.

Despite that, Tulip Vale plucked it in midair, spun it with dizzying speed around her hoof first in one direction, then the other. Whilst she did so, mother suddenly drew one of her own blades and lunged with it at her repeatedly, but the former PSD agent neatly parried each thrust. Their duel lasted less than ten seconds before the earth pony mare made a sudden strike that knocked mother's blade into the air, disarming her to the surprise of all present. She then caught it and threw it with uncanny accuracy, impaling a nearby gryphon corpse in an eye. “Satisfied, Sky Sergeant?” she asked, and for the first time, I saw her crack a grin; methinks she was actually enjoying herself.

“Very,” Mother answered with a nod, wearing a sly grin of her own. “The two of us will take point as we clear the buildings of them. So here is what we will do…” she began to outline a plan for dealing with the Ravens, one that even I would never have come up with, leaving me in awe of her anew.

“Wow, Wind Whistler…” one of my recruit squadmates told me in an aside; ‘tis worth noting that he was one of the stallions that had been tormenting me at the start of training. “I wish I had a mother like that…”

Turn of the Tide

But two minutes later, my squad was in the air again, covered from above by the remaining recruits and trainers and below by unicorns and earth ponies advancing in platoon formation, longbows and crossbows keeping the Knights at bay.

They knew something was up, but also knew better than to challenge our improvised phalanx without a massed force they no longer had, the appearance of veterans from outside the base forcing them to fight many small battles all over the far-flung fort. They were grinding down the veterans steadily but taking casualties of their own; methinks they had lost over forty percent of their two-and-a-half-century force by then… and likely inflicted half again that number on us. Soldier for soldier, they were our equals, but the initial advantages of shock and surprise had gone a long way towards whittling us down and we were still outnumbered.

The reason we required cover was our cargo. Tulip Vale and several other earth ponies were being carried by my squad, greatly limiting our aerial mobility and leaving us vulnerable to blades and crossbow bolts. A fact the Ravens entrenched in the Headquarters building tried to take advantage of by opening up with a hail of lethal projectiles. Most were deflected by shields, but they had some anti-aura bolts as well, and at least two pegasi were knocked from the sky to be immediately tended by Bone Deep, who proved his worth as both a healer and warrior that day.

As we neared the bunker, the unicorns opened up with their spellcasting, firing flares and arrows in through windows to blind the Ravens and force them back. ‘Twas not our intent, however, to go in through obvious openings but only to draw attention to them.

When we were overhead, we released the earth ponies from ten yards above the roof, Tulip Vale in front. ‘Twas a fall that would injure all but earth ponies, and ‘twas in turn the reason they’d been selected for the strike. As I watched, Tulip Vale tucked her head, rolled and crashed at an angle right through the roof shoulder-first along with her comrades, their heavy armored bodies, height of the fall and speed with which we’d released them providing the weight and momentum needed to break through and surprise the Ravens within. Mother promptly tucked her wings and dove in after them, familiar with room-clearing tactics as she was, and took the lead beside the former PSD agent.

I only caught bits and pieces of the battle through the windows and skylights, but what I saw was exceptional enough. Whirling knives, clashing blades, thrown stilettos and even some thrown furniture were intermixed with the occasional flash, explosive or shock gem tossed by both sides. A burst of wind from Silent Night sent one shock gem back into the possession of its owner who was swiftly slain, and the tag-team of Tulip Vale and mother proved very efficient at clearing the Ravens as the earth ponies behind them covered the pair of mares with crossbows and sheer strength, one stallion charging right through a wall to take out the Raven eagless behind it and another bucking a heavy desk right into the head of a Raven tiercel hiding there, crushing his skull.

The improvised tactics worked brilliantly; they drove the Ravens before them and slew a dozen between them, and within minutes the remaining six were fleeing the building to be cut down in the open air as Mother and Tulip Vale emerged out the exit they’d left. The former was untouched, but the latter...

“Are you hurt, recruit?” Mother asked the earth pony mare, whose face was singed from a flash gem. She had also taken a sword slash right through the side of her training armor and a kunai to the foreleg, bleeding profusely from both. And yet, methinks she looked almost… happy.

“I’m hurt, but I don’t care!” Tulip Vale confirmed, her eyes glittering, waving off Bone Deep. “Ten years I’ve waited for this day! Ten years I’ve waited to finally fight! I’m wounded and yet… methinks I’ve never felt so alive!” she told mother, plucking a discarded Raven long knife and experimentally spinning it, finding its balance good and then resheathing it to clip to her armor. “As long as there’s more to fight, I’m not stopping, ma’am!”

“So be it,” Mother said in genuine respect, passing her more stilettos as well. “Then let us continue…” she said as we headed for the staff barracks next to clear it in turn.

In hindsight, methinks ‘twas the retaking of Ironsides’ Headquarters that marked the final turning point of the battle.

Our forces now fully organized and tactics now clear, we started driving them back on the skies and on the ground, forcing their remaining Ravens to ground with massed fire or numbers and then sending in armored earth ponies led by Tulip Vale to clear them. The same strategy worked for the sky gryphon Wind Knights as well; we used wind and lighting to force them down where they became far easier prey for earth ponies, whose strength and stamina told. Even Ironsides got into the act; he slew several Knights personally with spears and his sword, taking multiple wounds but never faltering.

In the end, the one major gap in the gryphon strategy was that they had no earth gryphons either amongst the Knights or Ravens. In fairness, ‘twas by necessity as earth gryphons had not the flying range that sky gryphons did, so they could not join the attack. Nevertheless, ‘twas to our adversaries loss, as their strength and heavy weapons might have been given our earth ponies far more trouble in ground combat. As it stood, once we drove them to ground, the advantage was ours. Still, the fight lasted for nearly another hour and was not decided until a reinforced battalion from the Aerial Corps 2nd Division, hastily dispatched from Outpost Tau in Coltumbia, descended on the base.

They dove out of the sun on the gryphons, and though they were not as good as the Knights as they took nearly double the casualties they inflicted, their numbers told and within ten minutes, the First Spear gave the order to retreat. The few dozen gryphon warriors who remained then fled for the coast... and the Battle of Fort Spur was over.

Still Standing

If ‘twas a victory, methinks it did not feel like it at the time. When all was said and done, I finally did collapse in my mother’s forelegs, wailing like a foal, all the fears and emotions I’d kept under tight seal that entire time finally bursting free. The others were little better as we mourned our losses and began to pick up the pieces, many of my fellow recruits openly sobbing over the bodies of their trainers and new comrades.

Ironsides let us have our moment of grief and reunion, but finally directed us to set defense and start cleaning up, the base soon garrisoned by an Aerial Corps and Army battalion. The Gryphons would not take us by surprise again, but their one attack had done plenty of damage.

We had won, but in truth, there was little for us to celebrate. Sergeant Major Windshear was dead along with the majority of our trainers, most of the base lay in ruins, and over half of our recruit class were casualties, our mettle tested in a way basic training could not. And yet, in the end... we had not only survived the onslaught, we had nearly annihilated the two hundred fifty-strong attacking force, and Fort Spur still stood. Our losses were heavy, but we had just fought the first solo action of the Armored Guard in half a century and were still standing at the end.

For now, that would have to be victory enough.

I thank you for relating this tale, my sister, and I grieve for what you witnessed and not being there to help. But I am gratified you were able to relate this in full over the previous chapters. You’ve earned a reprieve from remembering those early hours, though I will call on you again soon for a scene I’m sure you can guess. For now, though, I will turn the quill over to another pony near and dear to both of us; one without whom, I would not be your sister…

One without whom I might well not be here to write this.

—Firefly

Methinks you exaggerate my importance, my daughter… but I’ll accept the praise nonetheless.

To those who read this, know that it took much cajoling on Firefly’s part for me to pick up the quill even though she had offered it to me before. ‘Tis no exaggeration that I dislike remembering those early days of war, given the horrors we saw. However, my daughter has reminded me that her story is incomplete without the perspective of others. That my role, and indeed that of the much-maligned Royal Navy, was integral to the war effort. So, with reluctance, I now take the quill in her stead.

I am Admiral Tailwind, and at the break of war, I was a Commander in the Royal Navy, serving as first officer of the EAS Loyalty, one of our most advanced naval airships of the time. We were not present for the initial strike as the three-ship battle group I belonged to was on maneuvers at Stalliongrad when the first blows of the war were exchanged. Fortunately, we were not targeted by any gryphon groups when the war started, twelve hundred miles away and off the beaten battle path for the time being. On the other hoof, this meant we were rather unaware of what was going on for a time, as we were out of contact with Naval headquarters in Canterlot. ‘Twas certain that would change quickly, though.…

—Admiral Tailwind
Commander, Royal Navy
Royal Navy Base Polaris
Canterlot

Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad
September 1st, 1139 AC
1550 hours

September 1st dawned a normal and uneventful day for Royal Navy Battle Group Four.

Nearly twelve hundred miles from the pony/gryphon border as we were, there was no sign of anything wrong at first, nor any communications from Canterlot, though I do remember hearing from somepony in the communications center that we missed the normal morning message from them.

Though unusual, we thought little of it at the time. As mid-afternoon was reached, several bridge officers, myself included, chatted up a storm as we entered the bridge of the Loyalty for the first time in several days, the ship taking on supplies as we prepared for an exercise. Whilst I had oft advocated the replenishment of the Navy’s forces, the reputation Luna’s former service had for ‘cushiness’ had also led to rather lax standards for decorum and discipline, much to my chagrin, and too oft these rare drills only went to show how far we had fallen since the days of the Celestial War.

As we took our positions on the bridge (aside from Captain Shady, who had gone to her cabin to deal with paperwork), Ensign Kusema studied the communications console with a small frown, holding one hoof to the gem on her left earring. A very rare Zebra citizen of Equestria, her ear gem was tied to her console, allowing her to hear incoming messages privately and relay information.

“Commander,” she addressed me in fluent unaccented Equish, a product of having lived in Equestria all her life, not indulging in the rhyming speak her fellow Zebras were oft said to. In truth, I admired her as I knew full well the casual disdain and occasional outright bigotry non-ponies tended to garner, or even those just not coming from proper birth or breeding. I am ashamed to say ‘twas one of the reasons it took me so long to accept Firefly, orphaned spitfire that she was, believing her beneath my daughter when the truth was… she was above all of us, needing only our daughter’s friendship to flourish. “There seems to have been a good deal of activity on the crystal communications all of a sudden. I’m having trouble making sense of it all, there’s so much ‘chatter’.”

I knew that ‘chatter’ was used to refer to an excess of activity on the military communications gems. The term was used almost exclusively by Navy communications officers. “Print out a readable version, Ensign,” I said patiently. “It will be less cluttered that way.”

Hitting a few buttons on her console, Kusema began doing so, the nearby telegraph beginning to churn out a length of parchment with dots and dashes on it. Our Neighponese helm officer, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sora chuckled. “For all the complaints the other services give us, I have to admit, the Navy has some very nice toys,” he remarked in his surprisingly deep voice.

“Aye,” Kusema said with a nod. “’Tis far more than I expected when I signed up for the service.”

“There is a reason for that,” I broke in, watching the parchment grow with a frown, a long series of dots and dashes ‘twould fall to me to translate before presenting it to Captain Shady. “Because the Navy is severely depleted when compared to the other branches of service, the Equestrian Intelligence Service’s Office of Magical Research uses us to test experimental equipment and magic before putting it to use for all branches. Our communications gems, our weapons, a good deal of this airship set the military standard after its successful testing.”

“Huh,” Sora mused. “I suppose that makes some sense. Test new things with a few expendable and useless ponies first before presenting it to the real soldiers, eh?” he chuckled and shook his head. “‘Tis nice to know where we stand in the general scheme of things.”

“At least we’re useful somehow…” I sighed as I took the long roll of parchment when ‘twas apparent there was no more forthcoming. Using my knowledge of Marse Code, I scanned over it, taking in the highlights… then paused, went back, and began reading more thoroughly. As I did, my alarm and trepidation grew. It must have been visible on my face as well, because the other bridge crew were getting nervous.

“Commander…?” Kusema asked, wary of the look on my face. “Your face just fell. Is all not well?”

I wasn’t sure if she meant that to rhyme, since unlike the stereotypes of her kind she normally didn’t, but such questions would have to wait. Rather than reply, I tucked the parchment under my good wing and bolted for the bridge door, heading at a brisk trot for the captain’s cabin.

Master and Commander

Before continuing, ‘tis worth noting that although I am a pegasus, I cannot fly. Or more precisely, I lost my ability to fly after an accident that severely wounded my right wing, leaving naught but a useless limb. ‘Tis a burden I have long since come to terms with, though I admit to this day I still miss the rush of the wind and the feel of the skies.

‘Twas times like this I missed it even more, just for the additional time it took me to get to a destination by walking and the minute it took to reach the cabin felt like a small eternity. Still, I took a moment to make myself presentable before knocking, smoothing out my deep blue uniform and straightening my rank insignia. “Come in,” came the voice from the other side.

I opened the door, nodding in deference to the pink unicorn inside. “Captain,” I said, stepping inside and then coming to attention. “Urgent message from Canterlot.”

Shady, despite her name, was rather brightly colored. A pink coat and yellow chartreuse mane framed her bright green eyes, which frowned at me. “Tailwind?” She looked at the very long parchment under my wing as I closed the door. “I wasn’t expecting any communications.”

“None of us expected this,” I muttered, as I put it on her desk and unfurled it fully. “You might want to start from the beginning.”

It took a few minutes before Shady was done reviewing it; when she was, she looked ashen-faced under her pink coat, sitting back heavily and visibly shaking. “By Celestia, how could this have happened?” she echoed my own thoughts. “After what the princess did to them, I thought the gryphons had been chased off for good!”

I gave her a gimlet eye at that. “Even faced with Celestia’s wrath, didst you truly believe the Empire would leave us alone?”

In answer, she could only give a resigned sigh. “No, methinks not. I was just being optimistic… for once.”

I sighed myself at that. Having gotten to know her better during my time serving with and under her, I knew that Shady had gained the reputation of being a ‘jinx’ prior to joining the Navy. Bad luck had followed in her wake until she joined the service… or perchance, I should say it forced her into the service, as the Equestrian Army rejected her and despite her obvious intelligence she couldn’t seem to hold onto any other job for more than a few months.

Her reputation had badly affected her self-esteem, and ‘twas something of a project of mine to keep her out of the depression she’d been in when I first met her. ‘Twas in part due to my efforts that she’d risen to Captain in the first place; though she was my junior in terms of age, she had a sort of spirit and drive to her that others in the Navy lacked. ‘Twas that spirit, even in the face of the constant misfortune she seemed to suffer, that I hoped would rekindle the Navy’s flame of glory.

“Shady, whatever you may be thinking, this is not your fault,” I said emphatically, stomping my hoof on her desk. “The gryphons are back, and they have brought not just war but an entire clan of dragons with them. Celestia is trapped and our border forces are being overrun. We need to act!”

“You say that as if it’s easy. But methinks not. Just what wouldst you propose we do, Tailwind?” she asked. “Ignoring the fact we have no orders, we are far from ready for combat. We lack nearly half our maximum allotment of weapons and personnel. At least a third of the ballistae don’t function, and our pegasus air wing is at best half-trained. We cannot stop a gryphon legion, let alone a dragon clan, on our own, not even with the Duty and the Vigil supporting us.” She referred to the other two ships in our group, a pair of ancient fast-attack gunboats refitted with modern equipment. However, as they possessed no pegasus squadrons of their own, they were primarily meant to launch hit-and-run raids or challenge larger airships by ramming them with their reinforced prow.

“No, we cannot,” I agreed. “But as Commodore Catamaran is absent, command of the group falls to you. And I propose we can aid our fellow armed forces in another way.” I pointed out one segment of the scroll in particular. “The Aerial Corps’ Outpost Epsilon has repulsed a Talon attack. More strikes are expected, and ‘tis certain they will consist of Knights and potentially Ravens. Epsilon will not survive, unless we get them out of there quickly.”

She gave me a gimlet eye of her own at that. “And the fact that your adopted daughter is in command of said outpost has nothing to do with this recommendation?” she asked dryly.

“Mayhap it does,” I admitted, “but there are other reasons. Outpost Gamma is under heavy siege at the moment, and more troops arrive to reinforce that siege by the hour; trying to rescue anypony there would be suicide. The other border outposts are likewise under heavy attack or have fallen. Epsilon, Omega and Gamma are the only ones left standing, but Epsilon is not under attack at the moment, is closest and has fewer numbers of gryphon troops to fight through. Methinks we can reach and evacuate them far easier than we could Gamma.”

Shady steepled her hooves and looked at me sternly. “Let me summarize what you are suggesting. You are asking me to, on my own authority, take half-ready ships crewed by combat green forces over twelve hundred miles into a war zone. You are asking me to risk their lives and that of the entire battle group without orders, potentially losing three badly needed airships in the process. And you are asking me to do this… for the sake of potentially rescuing one pony. Do not deny that your daughter is your primary motivation here, Tailwind,” she challenged me, to which I could only bow my head.

“I do not deny it, Captain. ‘Twould be the basest of lies to say otherwise. But it does not change the fact that Epsilon is in range whilst the other surviving border bases are not. It does not change the fact that they and they alone can be saved by us. That if we leave now, we might be able to get there in enough time for it to matter,” I countered. “I am asking you to do this not just for my daughter, but to rescue a battalion of badly needed soldiers. If we succeed, we not only save them but in the process strike a blow for not just the Royal Navy, but for all Equestria. And even if I do have a somewhat selfish motivation for suggesting this…” I raised my eyes to her, letting her see the pain and fear in them. “Wouldst you do any less, were it your daughter in danger?”

She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, as she blew out a long breath. She considered my words carefully for several interminable seconds, perchance even half a minute. And then her eyes opened.

A Captain’s Decision

Her horn glowed, as her closet opened and her uniform floated out of it, pulled to her. She slipped on the white coat, buttoning up all the way to the top. Next came the cap, which she set on her head firmly behind her horn. Then her naval saber, which she strapped to her side. Finally came her signature item, though twasn’t uniform standard; a pair of shaded spectacles that she slipped over her eyes, matching the ones that made up her cutie mark. I had never asked what her mark meant, as it had never seemed relevant. The spectacles were the one thing of her past life she’d fought tooth and hoof to bring with her into her new life in the Navy; a memento of happier times, she’d said, even if she’d never related the tale behind them.

Grabbing the message scrolls in her magic, she stepped over to the door and opened it. I followed her to the bridge, where the other officers quickly came to attention. “Captain on the Bridge!” they said in unison, surprised by her appearance; ‘twas no lie to say that seeing anypony in formal uniform on a Navy ship was a rare occurrence in this day and age.

Walking to her captain’s chair, Shady sat down, and tapped a blue crystal on it. “Bridge to Engineering,” she said. “Get our engines warmed up and propellers up to speed. We need to be ready to leave by dusk.”

“Dusk?! That’s just three hours away!” came the accented reply of our chief engineer, a Shetland stallion named Flash Fix. “We weren’t supposed to be ready for flight until tomorrow! Are ye daft, Captain?!” We all waited a moment, knowing what was coming. “But fer ye, Ah’ll have them ready in two,” he added cheekily.

“Good stallion,” Shady said with a small smile as she cut the connection. She turned next to our pegasus navigator. “Lieutenant Azimuth, plot us a course to Aerial Corps Outpost Epsilon on the Gryphon frontier, best possible speed for the entire group.”

Instead of immediately obeying, he blinked. “I’m sorry… Outpost Epsilon, ma’am?” he repeated. “But that’s…” his voice trailed off at the look Shady gave him.

“Must I repeat myself, Lieutenant?” She pinned him with a stare. “You have your orders.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” he replied, pulling out some charts with his wings to begin his calculations.

“Ensign Kusema,” Shady said next, “contact the Duty and the Vigil. Tell them to get prepared to leave by nightfall. Instruct them to load as many military supplies as possible and to ready as many of their weapons as they can.” She wrote out a quick note with her orders on it and signed her name to it, adding a magical seal to make it official.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kusema replied in some confusion, turning back to her own console.

“Thank you. And once you’re done with that, inform the crew that all leaves are cancelled effective immediately, and that all those currently on leave recalled. Send messages to all Stalliongrad communications offices to spread word that they are to report back at once, or they will be left behind,” she further instructed, the unusual orders only causing consternation among the bridge crew to grow further as she wrote out another missive and passed it to the communications station.

“Understood ma’am,” the Zebra mare replied warily as she accepted the second note.

“Very well. And one more thing, Ensign,” the Captain said.

“Ma’am?” Kusema asked uncertainly.

Shady sucked in a deep breath before letting it out. “Tell the Duty and Vigil… to beat to quarters.”

There was a sudden tension in the air, as all of the bridge crew looked at each other. “A-aye, ma’am,” Kusema said shakily, turning to the communications console and carrying out her orders.

I looked at Shady, and she nodded to me. Nodding back, I walked over to my own station, where I tapped several crystals in sequence with a hoof before firmly pressing a button down.

Beat to Quarters

Drums immediately sounded throughout the airship, pounding out a rhythm guaranteed to wake any sleeping pony. I could well imagine the bedlam that was erupting on the lower decks at the sound, as the crew struggled to understand what was going on. I could not blame them for their confusion; though we had been taught to recognize the rhythm, ‘twas not expected any of us would hear it outside of basic training or scheduled drills.

After all, the last time it had been sounded in war was during the Lunar Rebellion, when the Royal Navy had sided with Luna against Celestia… and had nearly been destroyed for it; ‘twas reduced to a mere ceremonial service in its aftermath, one the Princess only kept around out of respect for her fallen sister.

“Ma’am, the Duty and Vigil report they will be ready by the time requested,” Kusema reported. “But they do request an explanation as to why.”

“Very well,” Shady replied. “Tell them they’ll know shortly.”

“Course plotted, Captain,” Lieutenant Azimuth reported next. “We are simply waiting on the engines to be ready. Once they are, it should take us about ten hours to arrive at cruising speed.”

“Good,” repeated our unicorn Captain. “Though methinks I may modify our approach vector as we get closer...” she mused mostly to herself, leaving me wondering what she was thinking.

Kusema and Sora exchanged looks before the former spoke up. “Ma’am… if I may ask, what is going on?”

Shady flinched slightly at the question before sighing in some defeat. “Patch me through to the Duty and Vigil, as well as General Quarters,” she said. “I might as well tell everypony.”

Kusema nodded, tapping on her console. A slight chirping noise announced that the bridge was now broadcasting to all stations.

“Attention, all officers and crew of Royal Navy Battle Group Four,” Shady began. “This is Captain Shady speaking. I understand many of you are confused as to why I have sounded general quarters outside of scheduled drills and why all crew is being immediately recalled. Well, the reason is this: as of dawn this morning... Equestria is at war,” she stated simply, pausing to let the words sink in.

“The Gryphon Empire has decided that Our Princess’s terms for peace were not acceptable, and have allied with a dragon clan as a means to invade us. Even as we speak, Canterlot is besieged whilst an all-out attack on our frontier forces are underway, and our brethren in the Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps are being slain by their legions.

“We cannot help Canterlot for now, but there are other ways we can assist. According to the latest dispatch, almost all of the Army and Aerial Corps outposts on the Gryphon border have been overrun. As of the latest intelligence we have, naught but three for certain remain standing: Outpost Gamma, headquarters for the Corps’ 5th Division, Outpost Omega, far to the east of here... and Outpost Epsilon, the westernmost and closest. The reason for the hasty departure orders is that we will be making our way to the latter, to extract any forces that remain. ‘Tis certain that we will encounter the enemy along the way. And if so... we will do our duty and make all Equestria proud!”

Sensing the shock and doubt that greeted her words, she paused, then began again. “I have no intentions of lying to you; great danger lies ahead. Like you, I have never seen combat, nor did I expect to. Like so many of you, I joined the Navy because I had no other choice in life. I certainly never expected to make rank. And methinks none of us could have foreseen that this day would come; a day where we would truly have to take up arms. But that day has come. We are soldiers in service to Equestria. And we will answer our nation’s call.”

I noted she was very carefully not saying that we had no orders to go, for which I thanked her, as the knowledge that we were acting on our own accord might have caused even more consternation. “I know that many of you may doubt our chances. ‘Tis certain the other services look down on us; they think the Navy is ‘cushy’, and consider those who serve on our airships ‘soft’. And methinks there is a grain of truth to it. Compared to the other services, we are unpracticed, unhoned, and inexperienced when it comes to combat. There is no denying that.” She bowed her head briefly, before bringing it up again.

“But that does not mean we cannot fight! When we started serving together, we knew what we were getting into. And despite the Navy’s reputation, we have trained and drilled for this day. A captain could not ask for finer crews and ships, and I have absolute confidence in all of you that we will be up to the challenges ahead.

“Regardless of our reputation, we took an oath to serve Our Princess to the best of our ability. We took an oath to protect Equestria, to fight and die in Her service if need be! And I for one am not going to let some greedy dragons or overgrown chickenhawks have their way with us! We were once Luna’s service and Equestria’s sword! We were once the offensive arm of the Equestrian Military; our reach was long and our airships feared!” Her voice was getting more fervent as she spoke; even I began to feel my heart swell with pride.

“Methinks ‘tis high time the gryphons be reminded of that fact! We will show them that we will not go quietly into the night! That we will not surrender without a fight! We shall live on! We shall survive! Today, we fly for the field of battle! Today… the Royal Navy goes to war!”

As wracked with doubt as she could be, I was impressed at how well she could inspire as even through the various decks, I could hear the cheering of the crew. To be certain, there was some cheering on the bridge as well; Kusema and Sora both had determined grins on their faces, ones that matched my own, I was sure. “An excellent speech, ma’am,” I told her as she sat back down, and very much meant it.

“If we survive the coming day, I’ll let you give the next one,” she told me quietly. “In the meantime, you are to do your utmost to ensure as many of our ballistae and pegasus squadrons are ready for action. We should take our time in transit to hold a series of anti-boarding drills as well,” she instructed me.

“Aye, ma’am. I will see to it,” I told her, heading back below decks to check in with the Mare-at-Arms to make sure all our weapons lockers were fully stocked and easily accessible. I couldn’t fly thanks to my crippled wing, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t wield a wingblade on my working one, and I was also an excellent shot with a naval-issue crossbow.

“Captain!” came the voice of Flash Fix over the growing hum of our propulsion system, an ancient but still viable system of magic-spun propellers. “Engines are hot, and wind propellers turning! As soon as we’ve taken on sufficient supplies and recovered our crew, we’re ready to cast off and depart on your orders!”

“Acknowledged. Ensign Kusema, inform our groundside crew that if they’re not on board by 1700, they will be left behind,” I heard Captain Shady say as I departed the bridge, and at dusk, we did indeed cast off our mooring lines to a surprising sight—our ground crews cheering and waving their uniform flat hats in their hooves as they learned our intentions.

Even Shady smiled at that. “Mister Sora? Take us out!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” our unicorn helmspony replied, turning to the helm and spinning the wheel hard, causing the ship to bank to the right, heading out over the wide Canoe River that cut through the Maregolian prairie and soon passing over the fertile farms of Equestria’s breadbasket, the Unicorn Plains.

The cheering of the ground crew and our own was drowned out as our propellers roared. The Loyalty lifted into the air, the Duty and Vigil right behind her. We came about and gained speed and altitude as we sailed the skies northeastward toward Epsilon… and war.

I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast for I intend to go in harm’s way. —Captain John Paul Jones

Author's Note

Well, I wanted to get at least one major battle completed in the first week of the story before I shift away from it to work again on The Lawyer and The Unicorn. It's my general philosophy when writing a story that you need to give the reader down time between major scenes to reset mentally. I call it the ‘reading refractory period’ in my clopfics and in all honesty it holds here as well. So what's ahead? There is another battle to fight before we return focus to Epsilon, one that was hinted at in earlier chapters and in Rise of Firefly before that. Another important pony location was targeted for a long-range raid, and the hammer is about to fall there. But considering who lives there, ‘tis the gryphons who best beware, lest they awaken the demon who lies dormant within him...

A huge thank-you goes to Co-author Leo Archon for writing the very nice naval section, and to the usual prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, and Denim_Blue. Have to say, the latter was in fine form in his comments on the google doc...

Appendix A: Rank and Force Structures of the Equestrian and Gryphon Militaries

Author's Note

Before anyone asks, yes, this is a duplicate of the final bonus chapter posted in the original story, but it needs to be here as well for reference. Other bonus chapters will likewise be posted as appendices in time, but I’ll try to do so in conjunction with other published chapters instead of as a standalone.

Appendix A: Rank and Force Structures of the Equestrian and Gryphon Militaries

Though all the Equestrian service branches use similar ranks except for the Navy, their structure is not unified and joint chains of command can be difficult to determine. A Captain for the Corps is much higher than one for the Army, for example, and the only General the Corps has is its commanding officer while there are several grades of it in the Army, commanding brigades on up.

Equestrian Army:

The Equestrian Army is officer-heavy compared to the other services, and takes up nearly 2/3rds of the available student slots of the Equestrian Officer Academy, which is fair given that it is the largest Equestrian service branch by far. Senior enlisted are expected to enter the Academy at some point in their careers and the Army leadership prefer officers commanding units above platoon, but in practicality, only about a third to half have them. This leads to awkward situations where senior enlisted are outranked by officers commanding units beneath them, yet still have authority over them by virtue of commanding the higher unit. Duels are only too common for this.

The Army would prefer to address this by having senior enlisted as assistants to officers but the Equestrian Officer Academy is simply not able to train all needed, and the other services would say that the army is too liberal with officer appointments and there are not enough deserving candidates anyway.

Given its large size, there has been some discussion of the Army setting up its own separate Officer Academy on the grounds of an existing tactical school called Sunset Pointe for the express purpose of training its officers, but thus far the other services have balked and the Princess has not approved such a request, fearing the Army would become even more insular if she allowed it and the other services would follow suit.

Ranks and Units

Current contingency plans for war with the gryphons call for not increasing the number of units but rather, unit size from brigades on up, in effect doubling the Equestrian Army’s effective strength.

Militia

The Equestrian earth pony militia generally uses army ranks, though there are exceptions there as well, such as the Trottingham militia. Outside of Trottingham, the Earth Pony militia is casually detested by the regular Army for being at best half-trained and motivated. In the event of war, militia ponies would be drafted first but also treated as little better than raw recruits for it.

Equestrian Aerial Corps:

The Aerial Corps has fewer ranks, fewer officers and is more stringent in its chain of command than the Army, though there is wiggle room there as well. Battalions can be commanded by First Lieutenants all the way down to SFCs. The Corps also has the odd rule where all assigned to a base are subordinate to the base commander regardless of rank; this has likewise led to more than a few duels and disruptions of discipline in the past.

The Corps also has a curious dual-track officer system, differentiating between base and unit command above the battalion/outpost level. Captains command divisions but Majors and Colonels command the larger installations they work out of. It is believed this division of responsibility allows unit commanders to focus on training and combat while the base commander handles housing, supply and logistics; as an example, Captain Sirocco commands the 5th division but Outpost Gamma itself is in fact run by Colonel Contrail. There is also only one General in the Corps at any given point—the Corps Commander. In order to make that rank, you have to spend time as both a base and division commander so you know all areas of the Corps.

Ranks and Units

The following is an idealized rank chart, but in practice, there is considerable variation in who commands what on a given border base or unit. At Outpost Omega, which consists entirely of veterans, everypony tends to be higher ranked and thus have a lower level of authority than they typically would elsewhere.

*The Corps will grant a higher starting rank to particularly gifted trainees; about a quarter are named PFCs and given immediate command of a flight while about 5% make Corporal and become new squad leaders. The Corps also has the philosophy that if you train together, you should fight together, so new squads are, as much as possible, drawn from the ranks of the same training company.

In the event of a prolonged large-scale war, contingency plans exist to double the size of the Corps to nearly 30,000 pegasi, giving it the strength of six Gryphon legions. Much like the army, this would be accomplished by increasing the size of existing units above platoon level. Companies would increase from two platoons to three, and battalions from two companies to four, thus tripling their effective strength. Corps battalions participating in the Phoenix Fire operation were reinforced to wartime strength by taking platoons from other Corps Divisions, but reinforcing the entire Corps would take months of training and establishment of additional training bases.

Weather Teams

Weather platoons function as the Aerial Corps artillery arm, a force multiplier used to defend friendly bases and reduce hostile ones. One weather platoon typically consisting of 2-3 weather teams is attached to every outpost as they excel at static defense. They are, much harder to use offensively, however, as weather team members must keep the clouds still while firing them, attracting mage attacks and crossbow bolts. They require air supremacy or the protection of regular Corps soldiers to safely use on the attack. Each weather team is built as follows:

Roles may rotate between team members during drills, but typically the only way the ‘gunner’ gets replaced is if he or she is killed.

Pegasi Militia

The 5,000 strong Pegasi militia in Cloudsdale uses old ranks and tactics dating back to Imperial times, using the classic Aerial Phalanx to fight. In times of war they would be folded into the Aerial Corps, which is a prospect that does not generally please Corps soldiers. Though decently trained in their archaic tactics—ones the Corps feels are badly obsolete—neither they nor their equipment are up to Aerial Corps standards and would require extensive retraining before they could fight effectively as part of the Corps. Despite that, their primary duty is to guard Cloudsdale, and their sheer numbers would make any attack on the great city a very costly affair.

*Denotes an officer rank.

Royal Guard

Whether the Armored Guard or Plainclothes Security Division, the Royal Guard is almost entirely enlisted. Officers are few and there are only two graduated from the Equestrian Officer Academy every year; typically one for the Armored Division and one for the PSD. They command garrisons as well as installations; the highest rank of the Guard is Captain.

Armored Guardspony officers and promising young NCOs like Firefly are often seconded to other services to give them seasoning outside of Canterlot. Conversely, PSD agents often get ‘borrowed’ by the EIS to conduct “Temporary Additional Duty”—domestic surveillance or counterintelligence ops that do not require the services of the Black Lances.

Ranks and Units for the Armored Guard (PSD numbers are classified!)

*Like the Corps, the Royal Guard can give graduating recruits a higher starting rank ranging from Private First Class all the way up to Sergeant, though the latter is exceedingly rare. Also, when an existing soldier from another service transfers to the Guard, they are initially stripped of their rank but often returned an equivalent Guard one upon graduation. There are no exceptions to this, not even for highly decorated soldiers.

As an example, Windshear entered the guard a Sky Sergeant of the Corps, was then reduced in rank to recruit, but was named a First Sergeant of the Guard upon graduation, which was the equivalent Guard rank. This is not automatic, however; the Guard requires you demonstrate you deserve such treatment otherwise they will happily leave you with a reduced rank.

Royal Navy

The Royal Navy has a very unique rank system that dates back to the time of the Celestial War, hearkening back to the days when Luna’s signature service assigned titles instead of ranks. Promotions are given too readily but Celestia limits them to only a dozen officers per airship outside of pegasus and transport squadrons to prevent nobles from simply buying their rank and titles.

Reforms have been instituted by Admiral Coral Torch in an effort to make the Navy viable again, but three hundred years of only ceremonial service have taken their toll. Battle Group leaders are given a great deal of autonomy in how they run their ships, meaning that some groups are better trained or disciplined than others.

The Navy also has no less than three rank advancement tracks: Airship Combatants, Airship Transports and Pegasi Squadrons. By tradition, those who pilot transports or belong to pegasus attack squadrons are automatically given officer ranks upon graduation from their respective training. This causes no small of resentment along the enlisted, since they’re the ones that have to keep the airships flightworthy while the Naval Pegasi, who often draw their ranks from the nobles and Cloudsdale well-to-do, tend to look down on the enlisted ranks. Unicorns pilot the transports and tend to be nicer about it, but they, too, chafe at being used as a glorified ferry service.

Gryphon Military

The experienced and well-trained Gryphon Imperial Military has a fully unified command structure across all services with the sole exception of the Paladins, which use an archaic rank structure dating back to ancient times. This enables joint chains of command to be set quite readily and eases the use of the combined arms warfare that the Gryphons favor and excel at.

The Gryphons also have fewer formations than the ponies—they do not have a concept of a battalion, for example—and, although there are some instances of lower ranks being assigned to a higher post in absence of a suitably ranked commander, you will never find any higher ranks subordinated to a lower one in the Imperial Military. They also have fewer enlisted ranks.

Rank Advancement

Gryphon rank advancement can happen either through meritorious service or by winning a duel with a higher-ranked opponent, in which case you gain their rank and armor. There are limits to this, however—warriors cannot generally challenge any more than one rank above themselves else they will lack the training and qualifications of their new post, and all challenges must be approved by a higher rank in the same chain of command. In practice, what this means is that the higher rank you obtain, the greater a warrior you were. Upon promotion to certain ranks, you are required by the Empire to attend a training class or tactical school suitable for your new responsibilities. The sole exception for this is battlefield promotion, as war is the greatest teacher of all.

Enlisted ranks in Black, Officer ranks in Dark Red.

Equestrian vs. Gryphon Military

What follows is a VERY rough equivalent of ranks and units between the Equestrian and Gryphon militaries excepting the Royal Navy. Gryphon ranks are unified between their services and thus apply regardless of service branch. Note that the list of Gryphon ranks is NOT exhaustive!

Second Offensive: 7 - When Friendships Fracture

Dear readers, whether Nightborne or Highborne, pony or gryphon:

‘Tis Fell Flight Speaking now, offering one last entry before Oberen and I leave for Nova Ocelota. There are times that writing for this work has had great cathartic value for all of us; even over difficult topics and for long-suffering ponies like General Rock Biter. But there are others where ‘tis simply ripping open old wounds, forcing us to relive things we do not wish to. This, unfortunately, is one of the latter cases for both myself and the Captain.

In truth, Firefly and I have been up all night sharing a jug of rum—cheap liquor and not their good label, as ‘tis not an occasion where we deserve to drink anything more than bottom-barrel as we pen this latest entry. In writing this, we have also been reminiscing about what utter foals we were the day after the duel between Thunderbolt and Gavian.

How we were willing to throw away our friendship and honor in what can only be described as a moment of absolute idiocy, and perchance even dooming all of Captain Typhoon’s carefully cultivated efforts to bring the bat-ponies into the war on our side.

The General himself is sleeping right now. He is with his comrades out in the town square under a starry but chilly sky; they will sound reveille in an hour, and we will join them then for a ‘soldier’s breakfast’ of standard Equestrian Army rations—a half-pound of hay, a measure of molasses, and some tepid tea along with whatever wildflowers or edible roots might be found in the area.

Pegasi—and bat-ponies—used different foodstuffs for the purpose of keeping soldiers fed, but ‘tis of little concern now. ‘Tis simply an expression of solidarity as the General continues to retrace his wartime steps. He promises he will relate the second action of his Daisy regiment after breakfast; from what some of his old subordinates said, included in that tale is how his old regiment earned its nickname.

Rock Biter himself hasn’t said much about it yet, except that the next gryphon attack went in just after dawn and that the Imperials nearly won the day by ‘using an old pegasus trick’ against them.

Methinks I have a guess as to what he means, but I will refrain from voicing it as ‘tis not my story to tell. We have generally tried to write these accounts in chronological order, which ‘twould normally mean that the General would relate his tale first, given the gryphons struck at sunrise whilst the confrontation between myself and the Captain happened in the late afternoon.

Unfortunately, as Oberen and I intend to go to bed following breakfast and then leave at dusk for our destination, describing our confrontation cannot wait.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral High Emissary
Thestral Enclave
Canterlot

A Sister's Choice

I returned to the Loyalty from leave in the late afternoon following a few fitful hours of sleep, an unenjoyed breakfast and spending the rest of the day seeing to the ongoing care and safety of my sisters.

After some discussion over tea with Morning Glory, who agreed with me that they should not stay in our old house full of nothing but pain and empty rooms, I visited our longtime neighbor, Divine Wind, and politely asked him to take in my siblings. To my relief, he and his Neighponese herd immediately agreed, and once our younger sisters had awoken, we set about to moving their possessions over into their guest room. They would have to share it, but ‘twas a minor price to pay for escaping the misery to be found in our herd’s old house.

Morning Glory promised me she would see to selling the old homestead and giving proper honor to our lost family. But she turned pensive and strangely reluctant when I told her to stay with our sisters and help rebuild the weather factory, as ‘twas certain experienced workers would be needed to do so. When I asked her what was wrong, she shocked me one final time by standing up straight and announcing her intention to enlist in the Aerial Corps.

She was not the only one, as Divine Wind’s oldest son, Banzai, spoke up in support of her, saying he wished to join the Corps and fight the gryphons as the “duty and honor of our homeland requires!” But I cared less about that than trying to convince her not to. Our two teenage sisters joined the effort, saying it was hard enough having to say goodbye to me again, but they could not bear the thought of losing both of us after suffering the deaths of the rest of our herd.

But Glory remained adamant, saying Equestria needed her more as a soldier than a civilian weather worker. “But you’re not a warrior!” I protested at one point. “You hate fighting!”

“You’re right. I’m not like you, Fell Flight. I don’t want to fight or kill. I’d much rather stay here working to rebuild the Weather Factory with our family. But our family is gone, and I can’t bear the thought of you fighting this war alone. Equestria needs soldiers, and I now know I can be one. So I will.” She stood to passable attention and saluted me; I couldn’t help but reflexively return the honor. “Private Morning Glory reporting for duty, Master Sergeant!”

“Oh, Glory…” I hugged her, hard. We both broke down and sniffled; our embrace was shortly joined by my other two sisters. “Where did you learn to be so stubborn and stupid?”

“From you,” she told me with a smile. “From a big sister I admire immensely and wish to help defend Equestria.”

‘Twas then I realized that there was nothing I could say or do that would dissuade her, for I would not be dissuaded in her place. Perchance such stubbornness was something we had both inherited from our beloved sire, but in the end, it mattered little. Her mind was made up, and ‘twas not my place to forbid it. ‘Twas little else to do at that point but wish her well and take flight with my sisters for the Loyalty, where I would part with them for what I feared would be the final time.

And so does my role in relating this tale end, as the Captain wishes to pen the section to follow by herself. Not out of any enjoyment of it, but ‘tis simply a duty she feels she must carry out alone. ‘Tis certain we have both been avoiding it for long enough. So now that the scene is set, I will gladly surrender the quill to her and thank her for relating the tale in my place.

I will conclude by saying I had been only half-serious when I told Glory she was stubborn but stupid, and she replied in the same vein by claiming she got it from me. Methinks I had no idea that within but a few short minutes of reaching the Loyalty, ‘twould be me and not her who would live up to that moniker.

—Fell Flight

For what ‘tis worth, I cannot disagree with your sister’s statement. But your willingness to stand up and fight for your stallions ‘tis one of the reasons I love you, my stubborn but stupid half-Highborne herdmare.

—Major Opal Oberon (Nightborne Army, ret.)

Methinks you will pay for that tonight, Major! But methinks you will also enjoy it as well...

—Fell Flight

You and me both on the question of being stubborn but stupid, First Lieutenant. Though ‘tis certain Stormrunner would be far more circumspect about calling me such a thing!

—Firefly

Well, methinks I normally wouldn’t say it to your face, my wife! But just as you called me out for my idiocy in challenging Centurion Neal to a duel in the middle of our Epsilon evacuation, methinks ‘tis only fitting I do you the same service here:

So let it be said that you were both stubborn and stupid this day, and for what it nearly cost us, we were very lucky the Captain found a way to turn it to our advantage for the sake of our eventual alliance with the Nightborne.

—Stormrunner

Thank you for rubbing salt in my wound, my beloved but blunt stallion. Methinks you will not be enjoying my company tonight.

—Firefly

Quite all right. Methinks Blindside will!

—Stormrunner

Sickbay
EAS Loyalty
Cloudsdale
Central District Airship Anchorage, outside City Hall
Over South Flank of Foal Mountains, inside northern Thestralslovakia
September 5th, 1139 AE
1750 hours

I had been up all night for the fourth time in six days.

Methinks my patience and temper were at their ends; my fuse lit like one of the conventional cannonballs shot from the airship's upper gun decks.

My night following the duel between Gavian and Thunderbolt had been spent first waiting outside the operating room, followed by sitting at Gavian’s bedside as he lay before me unmoving; his burns and myriad injuries only partially hidden by the many bandages and glowing magical thread that closed his stab and slash wounds.

He was not out of danger and would not be for some time. Worse, Still Way could no longer assist, having completely exhausted his power. We had asked so much of him over the first four days of war, from a ten-mile teleport to taking on two gryphon mages at once to mimicking the ship when we attempted to sneak inside the bat-pony borders.

He had spared what little power for Gavian he had left, maintaining his healing aura until it—and he—collapsed from magical exhaustion. He had to be levitated by the healers and taken to another room to sleep; he would require several days of convalescence and minimal magic use before he could finally regain his strength and restore his depleted aura.

The withdrawal of that aura left Gavian’s life in grave danger; ‘tis not a slur against the Naval healers to say that they were simply not as powerful or skilled as Still Way. ‘Twas certain I wanted to save my son. I desperately wanted to do something other than stay by his side, but there was little I could do—except, as my increasingly dark mood was demanding, finish the job he had started by slaying Thunderbolt.

The Captain had laid out his rationale for sparing him and having him duel Gavian, and as a purely military calculation, it did make sense. He had also promised me that Gavian’s will to live was strong, but that seemed an empty oath as Gavian hovered on the brink of death before me—doubly so whilst Thunderbolt grotesquely got better.

I knew what was likely to happen to me if I went after him; I knew I was already in very thin air with Captain Typhoon over our earlier arguments. But as I stared at my son’s broken form, unable to do more than be there for him, my fury at Thunderbolt and the Captain only grew. By night’s end, in fact, methinks ‘twas only the thin thread of my imparted military discipline and the fact that Gavian still lived that stayed my wingblades.

Unfortunately, another piece of shocking news was about to be delivered; one that would serve to push both me and Fell Flight past our breaking points. ‘Twas late morning when father finally visited me in sickbay, having just returned from overnight negotiations with the Nightborne. I regret I do not recall what he said about it, for all I can remember is the terrible piece of news he bore, which the Loyalty had only then received by the bridge communications station, relayed by the Admiral in Canterlot:

My sister was alive, having survived the Imperial Wind Knight raid on Fort Spur.

But Sergeant Major Windshear, my beloved mentor and first true father figure, was dead.

Fallen Father

The message was contained in a missive from my sister and mother, who I later learned had donned her Black Lance combat gear and led a civilian rescue force into the Fort, saving not just my sister, but all the hard-pressed Guardspony trainers and recruits. Wind Whistler told me he had sacrificed himself heroically to kill the Talaeus raid commander as well as destroy a fire tornado that their mages had somehow generated, plunging into the inferno with her to tear the vortex apart from within.

There was no surviving such a suicidal yet awe-provoking act. Had Gavian not taken a sudden turn for the worse, I might have been more proud of my mentor’s incredible honor and courage. But such thoughts were lost as the healers were forced to attend him yet again, taking him behind closed doors mid-afternoon as they tried to keep his faltering heart from failing completely.

After so many losses and so much bad news, ‘twas simply the last straw in the hay bale for me. I had stood down for the duel. I had been forced to watch as my son fought a bloody battle he should never have been forced to. And now, he stood on the brink of death as his opponent ‘twas said to be recovering. ‘Twas obscenely unfair to me, and at that moment, all I wanted to do was fight something, and I didn’t care what—or who—it was.

‘Twas then that an equally haggard Fell Flight arrived. She all but stormed into the infirmary, looking for Thunderbolt, blood from when she was carrying him still present on her light blue combat uniform. But the first thing she saw instead was me.

“Commander.” She gave me a terse nod as she saw the narrowing of my eyes. Methinks she was about to step past me into the other room when she remembered: “How is Gavian?”

“And what in all the flames of Tartarus do you care?” I asked her angrily, believing her concern for him was but an afterthought. “His heart falters and may fail at any moment! He’s dying whilst Thunderbolt lives!”

Methinks my rage only grew when I saw her features relax fractionally at the news her mentor was out of danger. “Gavian will survive,” she told me blandly. “Still Way is with him.”

“Still Way lies unconscious in the next room, having exhausted all his power!” I snarled at her, causing her to flinch. “I hold Thunderbolt and you responsible for this, Master Sergeant! You encouraged this! You backed this insane plan of the Captain and sacrificed my son in favor of a mass-murdering monster!”

Methinks the growl that escaped Fell Flight’s throat would have done a Timberwolf proud. But to her credit, she swallowed the explosion that threatened to escape her and answered me properly, at least momentarily controlling her temper. “With all due respect, Commander, the purpose of the duel was to save both Gavian and Thunderbolt! And your son agreed to the terms, even knowing what the price could be!”

“Because you encouraged him, and for what? To save the life of a war criminal?” I got in her face. “A pony who neither obeys orders nor shows even the slightest shred of honor?” I heard the entry of the outside sentries at that moment, telling us both to step away, but I cared not.

“How dare you!” Fell Flight’s wings flared in ire as I’d already seen those of the bat-ponies often did; methinks she was either doing so instinctively or had already picked up the gesture from them. “You know not of what you speak! He honorably taught hundreds of foals to fly, including me and Blindside! He fought off the gryphons single-wingedly and saved countless lives at the Weather Factory, including that of my beloved sister! He is my mentor, and I will not let you slander his name!”

“Hey!” The head unicorn healer, Senior Starpony Nightingale, stepped out of the surgery room and called to us; methinks she was just as sleepless and short-tempered as us after having stayed up all night trying to save two critically wounded patients. “That will do! This is my sickbay, and ‘tis certain you are no longer welcome in it! So get out, both of you!”

She tried to eject us with her aura, but I stood fast; my flight magic keeping me anchored to the very air. To my surprise, Fell Flight duplicated my feat—just as her body had gotten far stronger under my tutelage, so had her flight and weather magic.

“I’ll leave when she does,” Fell Flight replied shortly, stepping between me and the door to Thunderbolt’s room. “Right now, she is a threat to Thunderbolt, and I will not let her near him!”

“You and what army, Master Sergeant?” I growled back, earning a hiss. “You’ve never been a match for me before, so what makes you think you are now? Though you do make a good point—methinks I should slay that monster, for Gavian will never be safe as long as he lives!”

Fell Flight lowered her head and snorted. “You… will… not… touch him!”

Several sentries tried to grab us next, but we flung them away hard into opposite walls. “I don’t want to touch him! I want to kill him!” I stated openly as more guards and even some nearby Corps soldiers filed in; they called to us repeatedly but we heard nothing except each other.

“Kill him and I’ll kill you! And if you think I can’t, try me!” Fell Flight shouted back through bared teeth; I swore the glow of her dilated cat eyes intensified in that moment to become visible even in broad daylight. “I’ll sacrifice my career and my life to defend my mentor, whilst you would throw it all away in an act of execution!”

I knew she was right, but I didn’t care. Worse, in my rage, all I wanted to do was hurt her—make her feel the pain I felt. “At least you still have your mentor! Mine is dead!” I announced as I threw the printed message at her containing the notice of Windshear’s death. I knew full well that Windshear had been her CO for a time at Outpost Omega, and thus sought to wound her with it.

She grabbed the missive and scanned it quickly, closed her eyes tightly for a moment but then tossed it aside and turned her enraged gaze back on me, her inner fire only intensified by the news. “Then he died as he lived: a hero to all Equestria! And now you seek to dishonor his memory by contemplating murder!”

“Sorry, but ‘tis your so-called ‘mentor’ who has the monopoly on that!” I replied in fury, causing her to growl and take another step forward; methinks she was ready to slay me on the spot for such slander. “You heard Swift Strike in the duel! He killed countless civilians and nearly cost Equestria the entire invading force in the Phoenix Fire operation! And yet despite all that and the state of my son, you stand here defending him?”

“I stand here defending my mentor! And your son chose to fight him!” she sharply reminded me. “‘Twas his choice to make! And ‘twas no less agony for me to see him suffer! To say nothing of Thunderbolt being beaten down with all his crimes laid bare!”

“My mentor is dead! My son is dying! And you think the life of his murderer is worth more than his?” I shouted at her, shocking a pair of Naval guards who tried to grab me with my internal electrical charge, sending them reeling much as Thunderbolt had done to Fell Flight when she had tackled him the first time he tried to menace Gavian. Methinks ‘twas a rage-enabled act, for I had never been able to do so before and found I wasn’t immediately able to do so again after.

“Over my dead body!” Fell Flight warned as she likewise flung a sentry aside with a sharp blast of wind, still barring my path to Thunderbolt’s room.

“That could be arranged, Master Sergeant!” I threatened as I felt my long-suppressed temper flare into blindingly bright white-hot fury, focusing on the form of my half-thestral second. “If you’re actually going to defend that demon, then you are unworthy of my respect or friendship! Your so-called mentor will never threaten my son or another being again! For I am going to kill him!”

“Enough!”Fell Flight shouted with an outward blast of wind from her wings. “If you seek satisfaction for your son, then so be it! As Thunderbolt is incapacitated, I will stand in his stead! So care to step outside… Commander?” And this time, ‘twas no doubt that the glow of her thestral eyes intensified along with her rage. “For the life of Thunderbolt, let us settle this dispute here and now!’”

“Gladly!” I responded as I marched outside, the crowd of sentries parting for us as we did so. “‘Tis a pity. And you were such a good second, too…”

The Betrayal - Fleshgod Apocalypse

But two minutes later, myself and Fell Flight were staring each other down on the topmost observation deck. We had interrupted a training session between my Corps soldiers and the Naval pegasi—which ‘twas in itself a disciplinary offense; I would have come down hard on a pony who interfered with the scheduled training of my soldiers back at Epsilon—who swiftly cleared a duel ring for us when our intentions became clear.

Intentions that also attracted the attention of Father, who had just come back on duty. “Firefly? What are you doing?” He quickly trotted out, addressing me not as superior to subordinate but father to foal.

“What I must do. Now don’t interfere!” I ordered him, even though I had no authority to do so as either soldier or daughter. “This is for my son…”

“And this is for my mentor!” Fell Flight immediately replied. “And if it takes me defeating you to make you see reason, then so be it!”

“Commander? Master Sergeant? Please don’t do this…” Blindside begged us, but I ignored her. She hadn’t been there before, so I suppose she had rushed up upon hearing we were about to duel.

“Stand aside!” I ordered her sharply as she tried to step between us, and bowing her head, she obeyed, perchance sensing we were not going to be denied. Or mayhap that we simply had to get it out of our systems. “Methinks you are a foal to challenge me, Master Sergeant! You’ve never been my equal before, so what makes you think you can stand against me now?”

“Then methinks the foal is you!” Fell Flight retorted as she deployed her wingblades, causing me to immediately do so as well. “We’ve sparred together for many months and I know exactly how you fight! I also have a good reason to give my all! And thanks to your training, methinks I’ve gained enough strength and speed to finally beat you! I’ll wager my life that I can take you now!”

“So be it! But such utter naivety. I had such high hopes for you, Master Sergeant…” I told her, no longer seeing my friend and second but an obstacle to my slaying of Thunderbolt. A steadily growing audience was gathering, but it mattered not to me, even as a glance to my left revealed the recently arrived Lunar Council was watching.

I knew they were there. I knew that we needed their aid in the war. And yet, just like Stormrunner before me when faced with Centurion Nael, I cared nothing for the consequences. All I cared about was ending the threat Thunderbolt posed to my son.

“And I am sorry I ever considered you a worthy leader! Now quit talking and fight!” Fell Flight ordered me as if she was the commander and not me.

“As you wish!” Without even waiting for a formal challenge or duel declaration, we launched ourselves at each other as the first shriek of colliding wingblades echoed across the Loyalty.

Well-described, Captain. Though methinks you were a little too easy on me; trying to make yourself out to be the one most blameworthy.

‘Tis Fell Flight speaking again. My recollection is that I was equally obtuse and insulting, refusing to recognize your anger or anguish as valid. But in the end, ‘twas certain we both needed the chance to vent, and methinks we found it in each other. Regardless, I thank you again for taking on the duty of describing the leadup to the fight so I did not have to.

With apologies to all who follow this work, ‘tis been decided after a few false starts and discussion between the Captain and myself that we will not describe the duel that followed. Mayhap some will be disappointed, but you wouldst understand, dear readers, that neither the Captain nor I wish to recall it, and the action occurred much too fast for Blindside to properly recount.

Except to say that the Captain did actually manage to fire a weak lightning bolt for the first time whilst my wing-generated winds gave her flight fits; my brawling style of fighting was able to go blade to blade with her own well-honed combat abilities for the first time. In the end, methinks we both learned the hard way that we were not only nearly equals in ability after so much time training together, but also equal in our grief-driven rage.

Perchance I would take pride in realizing that our bout showed I had caught up almost completely to the Commander, but for the fact that we ended up beating each other up quite badly. ‘Twas in fact only when we weakened each other enough that we could be separated; we were finally dragged apart by Blindside and Sky Sentry before the Naval guards took over. On the direct orders of Captain Shady, who had seen the whole sorry affair along with the Lunar Council she was escorting, they confiscated our wingblades and threw us in the brig without treatment.

We would need several days to fully recover from both our impromptu duel and the punishment to follow, but only after being excoriated by a recently-returned Captain Typhoon. ‘Tis certain he was less than pleased with us, particularly as our duel had been witnessed by the Nightborne leadership he had brought on board in hopes of impressing with Naval discipline and the quality of our soldiers

So my final contribution to this chapter, before heading for bed in advance of departing to Nova Ocelota, will be to relate our meeting with him.

—First Lieutenant Fell Flight (ret.)
Thestral High Emissary
Thestral Conclave
Canterlot

Zack Hemsey - See What I’ve Become

“So what am I to do with you?” Captain Typhoon growled angrily as we stood before him in our separate but adjacent cells, struggling to remain upright. He looked tired after being up all night in Hollow Shades, but ‘twas no question he was still up to the task of berating us. And doing far worse if he wished.

“Two of Equestria’s finest soldiers acting like utter idiots, throwing away their friendship and honor to duel like drunken dockworkers? Never mind the fact that your fight was witnessed by the Lunar Council, who were less than impressed, such conduct is unbecoming of both the Corps and the Guard, Master Sergeants!” he snarled in the face of Fell Flight, and then me.

We stayed silent, standing at attention as best we could despite our wounds and staring straight ahead despite his angry gaze boring into ours. For what possible defense could we offer? ‘Twas certain he was correct, after all, and ‘twas no telling what repercussions it could have with the Nightborne whose alliance and soldiers we so desperately needed.

‘Tis worth noting the Captain had not been present for the duel himself; we would later learn that he had been sleeping in Shady’s quarters, resting and receiving his daily treatment for the severe dragonfire burns we did not then know he had.

“If ‘twas peacetime and this happened on an Aerial Corps or Royal Guard base I commanded, methinks I’d order you both thrown in the brig and bust your flanks back down to Private pending full inquiry and court-martial!” he said ominously; methinks I honestly thought my rise through the ranks was over at that point and I would shortly be reduced to a simple soldier.

“Unfortunately, your sterling records and supreme skill means I cannot now spare either of you any more than I can Thunderbolt. But ‘tis not to say you will suffer no punishment for such senseless stupidity!” He snarled at us, then turned to the two healers standing outside our cells, who methinks were less than happy at us for nearly starting a death duel in sickbay.

“Patch them up. And spare the painkilling spells,” he directed the two unicorn mares, who smiled evilly like they were only too eager to oblige him. “But as for punishment...”

He next turned to an equally angry Captain Shady, who was standing to his left and glaring; she had been giving the Lunar Council a tour of her ship personally when our duel erupted. “Captain Shady? Methinks there is but one chance to salvage this situation in the eyes of our thestral hosts. As ‘tis your airship upon which this severe breach of discipline occurred, methinks ‘tis only fitting that you decide their fate.

“I thus leave their disposition to you, and remind you that the eyes of the Lunar Council will be upon you. Prove to them that the Royal Navy remembers Luna’s code of conduct, and impose an appropriate punishment.”

“As you wish,” Captain Shady bowed her head to Typhoon before she turned to Father, who was scarcely less angry than she or Captain Typhoon at our unconscionable behavior.

“Commander Tailwind? Call an immediate Captain’s Mast before the central dirigible mount. Methinks we will dispense with this idiocy immediately, and show our honored guests that the disciplinary traditions of Princess Luna remain intact in the Royal Navy…”

They did indeed remain intact, and methinks our mutual punishment both hurt and was humbling. But I bore it knowing that Gavian had endured far worse. We will relate the aftermath of this delusional duel next chapter, but until then, know simply that ‘twas as much painful emotionally to me as physically.

As breakfast with the General and soldiers is concluded, Fell Flight has gone to bed with Oberon. ‘Tis their plan to depart upon waking late this afternoon, but they are not taking a transport.

Neigh, they have both decided to fly there on the strength of their own wings and rough it along the way; hunting, camping and foraging as needed until they reach the final gryphon colony on this continent—one the Princess allowed the Kingdom to keep because they needed it to remain fed. Methinks it also helps that the bounty of fish they catch also now feeds the thestrals, both Nightborne and Highborne alike.

Speaking of the Highborne, Fell Flight did wish to make some comment on them before the section that follows, but upon reflection, she has decided to wait. Both because it would delay their sleep and departure if she did so, and because she does not wish to detract from the Highborne side of the story.

She does request, however, that I remind readers that the Highborne no less than the Nightborne had to decide what course of action was in their best interests, and act accordingly. And that being second-class citizens, even within their own borders whilst ruled over by a more powerful tribe, they had even more reason than the Nightborne to seek a new order that the gryphons might then provide.

If, that was, they showed themselves worthy of being seen as an equal as opposed to being granted mere vassalhood by the Empire, which would be little more than trading one set of oppressors for another.

I will leave this there, and catch a few hours of rest myself before joining the General at dinner—in the Inn this time. He will present his latest writings then, whilst we discuss them over a meal of imported Highborne mountain wildflowers and a bottle of fine Nightborne wine.

In the meantime, the quill is yours, Sir Barrel Rider. And I thank you for your willingness to relate the Highborne side of this tale.

—Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot

I thank you for the introduction, Captain Firefly, and your former second for standing up for us. In truth, I envy you, to be in the presence of such pleasant company and fine cuisine! I’ve found that among every creature I’ve ever done business with, just giving them something to eat gives them an excuse to be far more reasonable than they would be otherwise. It also gives two sides one thing in common that no one can dispute: we all love eating more than we do fighting.

When you get down to business, you’re almost always dealing with rational actors who just want a deal that suits them better than it suits you, and from there, you meet in the middle. In that sense, it doesn’t matter if the commodity being exchanged is land or goods.

At least that’s what I thought until I was faced with an adversary who viewed everything I owned as already being theirs by right. To keep both myself and my very nation above water, it required forgetting everything I knew and falling back on the faith of my ancestors in something greater than ourselves.

The Nightborne may consider our beliefs blasphemous or heretical, even to this day. But ‘twas on that long-ago day that I learned of the true power of faith, and what being a Highborne actually meant. Thus, for this next story, I speak not of any exploit for my own sake, but of the wisdom I learned that day from the High Priestess of the Stars.

—Barrel Rider
Chairbat of the Board of Governors
Central Bank of Thestralslovakia

Ring For Freedom

The Temple of Karabor
Star City
Thestralslovakia
September 5th, 1139 AL (Anno Lunae)
1830 hours

As dusk fell, I felt hopeful about my chances with the gryphons when I left the temple to meet them.

‘Twas not a confidence born of ignorance, as I’d been doing most of my business with them for years and thought I knew what to expect. I’d fly off to the meeting in ten minutes just outside the city, stand in front of a line dividing an open field with a Gryphon representative and present the High Priestess’ response to the Imperial offer; asking him for help uniting Thestralslovakia in exchange for an alliance.

It seemed like an amicable business deal to me, given we both had something the other wanted. And thus, ‘twas simply a matter of discussing what we could offer and hoping they’d accept.

Were I really fortunate, the whole affair would be over and done with and I’d be on the first transport to the rear of the gryphon lines, near enough to Cirrus Cassada to abscond the continent before things got really bad.

And before anybat asks, yes, I did fully expect things to get really bad.

There was, obviously, the scenario in my mind of Thestralslovakia being united only to be reduced to a tributary. Or even outright invaded later after the triumphant Imperial legions came marching their way over the trampled bodies of the Equestrians, deciding we were ponies like them and thus worthy of the same treatment—subjugation and enslavement.

Juniper Neptune seemed to find the idea ridiculous when I brought it up to her. Well, if I was proven correct and they backstabbed us later on after we won? That would only be an issue for her, I decided as I received my final instructions for the meeting from the High Priestess herself.

Methinks my preconceptions began to break down immediately when I was asked to put on a cloak and tunic of white wool. They itched something terrible and caused me to sweat beyond reason in the late summer heat, which the rapid restoration of natural weather patterns from the ceasing of pony weather control was allowing to bubble up from the south. She also asked me to carry an oak staff to the meeting, one given to me by Juniper herself.

‘Twas to make me appear like a temple acolyte, I was told, to which I could only suppress a scoff. “I appreciate the endorsement, but I don’t think I’m really cut out for a life in the temple,” I pointed out needlessly, tugging at the fabric in a futile attempt to make the experience less uncomfortable.

“Of course you’re not, Sir Barry. Not when you are needed out there!” The High Priestess pointed out to the edge of Karabor City where the meeting was to be held. We stood high atop an observatory that was part of Karabor Temple and could see out for many miles, well past the walls of the mountain city where the bustle of Highborne subjects could be observed. “But so long as you represent the Highborne, you will look the part! Consider it to be written in your contract.” She gave me a knowing smile and winked.

I took a moment and breathed deeply, cursing myself for getting tangled up in both religion and politics. Such an awful way to get anything done! “And why did you give me a priestly staff? Methinks I’ve got about as much magic in me as a radish!”

Juniper scowled at me, and for a single terrifying moment, I thought I’d pushed my luck a bit too far and was about to suffer a severe case of being melted. “That’s what I’m counting on them to think. You will show them otherwise! ‘Tis true that I could send any one of my magi to do this job, but they will not do it as well as you. Remember what I said before, my dear but doubting Barrel Rider! Show but a little faith, and by the powers of the Twisting Nether itself, I promise the gryphons will be delivered into your hooves.”

“Yes, High Priestess.” I knelt before her, silently vowing to travel as far away from Thestralslovakia as I could manage when my time was up—Saddle Arabia was nice in winter! “I will do as you ask, but it would improve my bargaining position if I knew what it was you were planning to do. Please forgive my saying so, but methinks even with your immense power, you can’t hope to project enough force to unite the country, much less push aside the ponies who come to enforce the partition of our lands!”

At least as far as I was aware. Sacrilege though it may be to the ponies who read this, ‘tis worth stating that the High Priestess is perhaps the most powerful alicorn in history… but only when she’s inside the Temple of Karabor. ‘Tis because her traditional role as a steward of the limitless magical power of the Twisting Nether requires the Temple to serve as a locus for its collection, refinement, and storage; all three of which are quantitatively finite and subject to all sorts of arcane laws I’m not even remotely qualified to speak about.

To put it simply, when outside of the temple walls, she keeps but a fraction of the power she wields inside. And don’t ask her for exact details on how much of a charge she can channel or store at any given time, or she might have to kill you. And don’t ask me either because I have a long life ahead of me, I hope.

Yes, I jest. Mostly.

So whilst her abilities are staggering, and ‘tis certain she could easily control the sun and the moon in Celestia’s stead whilst maintaining stewardship of The Nether, she cannot project that power as the Princess can or take it with her outside of the temple walls.

Juniper is our Rock and Fortress, but she is also static, whilst Celestia and her pony armies are most certainly not. Were a battle between the two demi-goddesses to erupt within the confines of the Temple, Juniper would have the advantage, but anywhere outside of it, without the locus of magic it provides her… a full-strength Celestia would win easily. Juniper’s thestralcorn magi are likewise much more powerful than typical pony unicorns or even gryphon mages, but their numbers are far too few to win a war.

Which, methinks I must hasten to add, ‘tis not to say the two leaders are hostile to each other. They have held yearly summits in the aftermath of the war, with meeting locations alternating between the Temple and Canterlot Castle. I am not privy to those discussions of course, but the two are peers in terms of their immense power and responsibilities; Celestia is one of a very few non-Highborne beings who has been allowed access to the Temple’s inner sanctum, where I believe the High Priestess has shown her how she accesses the Nether. But that, methinks, is a story for another night.

At the time, I believed all this meant that going up against Celestia or the gryphons ‘twas the sheerest form of folly. ‘Tis certain I also thought ‘twas a waste of time trying to argue about this with a demi-goddess again, but in my defense, you wouldst do well to think about the sheer volume of different scenarios running through my head. And most involved me getting killed by various methods both Gryphon and Highborne-created, from the mundane to the sinisterly creative.

And yet, Juniper Neptune just gave my concerns a dismissive wave of her hoof, capped with a crystal shoe. They were made of star sapphire—an exceedingly rare stone—and mentally, I tabulated the value of all four shoes up in my head. If I could get my hooves on them and fence them in Neighrobi, I would be able to retire immediately, buy an estate in Zebrica and live well-attended by feline Abyssinian servants until the end of my days.

“‘Tis of little concern what the ponies do, or their Princess. ‘Tis certain she will have her hooves full with the vast might of not just the Gryphon Empire, but the dragon clan backing them. Methinks they are not really our enemy so much as the enemy of our prospective allies. Ponies are meddlesome, busy things that claim all they see as theirs, but they will never be as large of an immediate threat as our dark-souled cousins.”

“Then what exactly will you do about the gryphons?” Instead of answering my question, I felt Juniper grab the staff held slackly in my hoof and smack me hard on the rump with it. “AHH! By the stars above, that hurt!”

“Enough questions, Sir Barrel Rider! More will be revealed to you… once you’ve done your part and convinced their leader, the so-called Archmagus Leoptolemy, of our strength as allies. Now go! The eyes of the Cosmos are upon you, Barrel Rider! Do not waver, and let the Stars guide you.”

Though I admittedly thought this entire plan was daft—for which I apologize, High Priestess!—I launched off the observatory and into the air, allowing the cooling breeze to carry me in a glide before descending downslope towards the Gryphon camp, which was being carefully kept outside of our holy city and out of view of the populace. They had slipped in some days earlier, seeking negotiation directly with the High Priestess on the heels of their offer and her initially favorable reply.

But instead of doing so, she was sending me out to deal with them, and—I could only hope—observing and protecting me from afar.

The stars better guide me because this hopelessly pretentious magician sure as hay isn’t! Oh gosh, I hope she didn’t hear me think that. Juniper, please don’t slay the messenger! I picked up speed, hoping to get far enough away to dodge any magic bolt she was about to throw at me.

Gratus' Entry to Jerusalem

That… is a very large number of armed gryphons.

Ten minutes later found me standing in a clearing at the mountain base surrounded by trees and small, green ponds where the cat-birds had not only sent a small envoy, but an entire parley force two decades strong.

Two tiercels stood at the fore in front of a pair of Gryphon Imperial standards, fluttering in the breeze; one was a violet-cloaked magus who looked at me with polite curiosity — no doubt wondering why a small, pathetic hornless thestral would carry a stick to a swordfight. The other soldier was the haughtiest, most enormous-looking manticore of an Earth Gryphon Centurion I’d ever seen; ‘twould not have surprised me at all if his tail was actually a scorpion stinger. He stood there eying me with disdain, a gigantic battle-hammer draped lazily over his shoulder.

I calculated the weight in my head, quickly realizing I couldn’t even lift it; one blow from that thing would leave me deeply impressed in more ways than one.

As ‘twas certain that I was intimidated by him, I decided to deal with the other fellow and hope the big one stayed quiet. But as had been the case for all my trip, there’d be no such luck for me as the manticore gryphon spoke first. “That’s it? The so-called Highborne send but one hornless janitor to speak with us?” he growled disdainfully.

I ignored the jibe and spoke; methinks I’d at least learned how to present myself well in business negotiations even when I knew myself to be at a disadvantage. “Be assured, Exarch, that I am no mere janitor. I, Barrel Rider, magus of Karabor and emissary of the High Priestess herself welcome you to our lands. I am here to convey her wishes for a fair and productive discussion on the prospective alliance of our two great nations.”

Of course, she’d given me no such instructions, but if I was to improvise this whole affair, then it would be on my terms as much as possible.

“I am Leoptolemy Starling, Archmage of Birdlin, here at the behest of our Empress Palamecia,” The robed gryphon saluted in the Imperial manner, to which I dipped my staff fractionally. “We had expected, indeed hoped, that your High Priestess would grace us with her presence. Or at least one of your thestralcorn magi, for we very much wish to learn more about your race’s magic.”

The feeling was mutual, but I’d had it amply demonstrated that day that there was no point using reason to argue with faith; methinks I was off to a bad start indeed when I found myself immediately agreeing with the other side about so trivial a matter. And just what, by the stars above, was I supposed to tell him? ‘I’m sorry, but I need to prove my faith to the High Priestess’?

“Plenty of time for that later, I trust.” I smiled at him politely, thankful I at least had somecreature pleasant to talk to. “Should we come to terms of an alliance, you will be allowed inside to see the grandeur of our city. ‘Tis only then that our High Priestess and rightful ruler, Juniper Neptune the VIIth, will make her appearance and officiate our pact with her signature.”

“Ha!” The large one drove the spiked head of his battle hammer into the dirt, causing the ground beneath me to quake slightly. “A likely story. I am Exarch Praepus Peregrine, Paladin of the Imperial Court! What this ‘Barrel Rider’ means to say, Archmagus, is that his liege sees us as unworthy of respect. Perhaps she thinks of us as mere servants who will drive her enemies away?”

The parley force behind him laughed at that, grinning beneath their helmets. A few drew sabers and tapped them against their shields, creating an ominous drumming cacophony of sound. “If your so-called High Priestess wishes an alliance, then methinks she can present herself to negotiate the pact personally! If she does not fear us, that is.” The enormous earth gryphon grinned unpleasantly. “Know that the Archmagus is one of the most powerful casters in all the Empire! And he is more than a match for any magi you have.”

I turned to face the manticore among us who had, in very little time, drawn all authority over the discussions to the Gryphon side. If only Juniper had given me something to work with! I silently cursed, but I did not waver, knowing I couldn’t show any weakness here—to either the Gryphons or the somehow-watching High Priestess herself.

“The High Priestess has sent me for her own reasons. But ‘tis my job as her servant to carry out her will. As to why we are conducting this meeting here, Karabor is sacred to us and no other race, whether Gryphon or Nightborne, is permitted entry without invitation. We ask that you respect our wishes and customs as we, in turn, will respect yours.”

Praepus rolled his eyes, but he offered no further comment. Thank the Stars for small favors.

“As you are unfamiliar with our parley traditions, I am inclined to offer you some leeway... if only to get to the discussion of import.” The mage rested his talons atop the rounded wooden pommel of his magical staff, peering at me intently.

“You say you will assist us, but you also request the assistance of our Empire in subduing your rival—the Nightborne thestrals. In exchange, you are offering your smaller force to fight alongside us as equal partners?” Methinks his voice barely disguised his contempt. “I will not mince words with you, Highborne; you lack the strength necessary to maintain your independence. And you do not offer us enough to give you the autonomy you seek.”

Simple, straight to the point and dead-on accurate. Methinks I’d love this magus if he were on our side instead of making my life miserable.

“Our Empress is not cruel nor is she unreasonable; we are sympathetic to your plight and wish to see your subjugated people freed,“ Leo continued amicably. “What we offer you is Thestralslovakia united as a vassal under the administration of the Highborne. The High Priestess can rule over you as she sees fit, and in exchange, our armies will offer protection from all threats, without and within your territory. We only ask that you follow us to war when summoned and pay us a modest yearly tribute.”

Tribute indeed. I was no foal; I’d heard enough doublespeak in my life to read between the lines. So ’twould be slavery for us, then, serving the greater good of the Empire whilst allowed the thinnest veneer of autonomy. The illusion of freedom at home for the purpose of serving the Empire abroad.

Perhaps they saw garrisoning these lands and teaching our civilians how to speak Aeric as too onerous, or mayhap they liked the idea of our pretty stone buildings being preserved like a ship in a bottle? No. Far more likely, they knew as I did that they possessed sufficient strength to simply raze Thestralslovakia to the ground if we disagreed with any terms they put forward. For I’d have made the exact same offer in his position.

But I wasn’t in his position, and I’d have to start disagreeing with my own thoughts if I was going to pull this off. ‘Twas clear by now that bluffs and bluster were simply off the table with this gryphon. And trying to scare him with my big, scary bat wings would only evoke laughter from the goon carrying the hammer. This left me with but one choice: to talk utterly meaningless nonsense until a gap opened up for me to put my leg through.

Fortunately, ‘twas a task I was well versed in, having to talk my way out of some very sticky situations in Neighrobi over the years.

“My apologies, Archmage Leoptolemy, but we disagree as to the Highborne’s purported ‘weakness’.” I paused, scanning the sea of gryphons to gauge their response—skepticism with a hint of bemusement. Perfect, I thought—all according to plan! To quote my late sire—If you can’t beat ‘em, baffle ‘em.

“Since you are unfamiliar with our history and culture, know that Highbornia has stood independent for hundreds of years as a distinct ethnic, religious, and cultural center. Despite our current… arrangement with the ponies and Nightborne, make no mistake of our determination and ability to exist as an independent nation.”

I admit to feeling some sense of pride in being able to sidestep the question of exactly how much force we could realistically project—we had around 8,000 troops at that point of time—or how significant what I said even was, considering we were still subjects by any other name.

Leoptolemy smirked and my sense of pride was quickly demolished. “May I speak candidly with you, Barrel Rider?”

“Of course,” I replied graciously. “I would expect nothing less from a potential ally”.

The Magus graced me with a pitying expression. “I am not impressed by your attempts to split feathers. So let us look at the situation of the Highborne without any pretense. You are independent of neither the Nightborne or the Equestrians, nor have you claimed to be over diplomatic channels.

“For if you didst, ‘tis certain you wouldst be swiftly crushed without our help. The Empress will accept your aid and reward you appropriately. But as Gryphons respect military strength, which you do not possess, she will never afford you the status of ‘independent ally’. For how could she, to a prostrate nation with almost no military, however pretty your architecture might be?”

Praepus laughed at the dig, emphasizing his guffaw with a thumb claw pointed in my direction. “And not very magical either, if this hornless one is the best they’ve got.” The monstrous gryphon turned his back on me. “Methinks enlisting the aid of these bat-ponies is a waste of our time and we should just go right through them. I’m leaving!”

Ask them to demonstrate their power and you will show them something better.

“Say what?” I said out loud, responding to a voice that seemed to come up from the ground itself.

Praepus turned around and looked at me as if I were something disgusting. “I said you’re a waste of our time, bat-pony!”

When the time is right, they will see the power of the Highborne.

I swallowed hard. Is that you, Juniper? Please, just give me something to work with here! I thought back.

But the voice didn’t speak again. She had all the magic in the universe to communicate with me telepathically, but that was the best I was going to get? Methinks I was ready to scream.

But ‘twas not an option as Praepus looked at me expectantly for some sort of reaction, but I had nothing to say, infuriating him even more. Was I about to doom Highbornia to invasion and subjugation right here due to my failure? With nothing left for it but to follow instructions in what ‘twas certain to be little more than a dramatic bluff, I held out the staff in view of the assembled gryphons.

“I was hoping not to waste the Stars’ time with trivial demonstrations for the sake of personal glory, but ‘twould seem you have forced my hooves!” I turned my eyes on Leoptolemy, who had a moment ago been looking upon me with pity as if I had lost my mind. “Show me a demonstration of Gryphon magic and I will surpass it. Then you will know our race is prostrate before none!”

“Now that’s more like it!” the gryphon magus grinned, then reared up and hefted his staff in both sets of talons to spin around his head. He used it to summon a fiery sphere that swirled all around him but did not touch him, though it blackened the grass beneath his taloned paws.

“I accept your challenge, Barrel Rider. Perchance you’ll be able to match a simple fire spell? Surely any race worth consideration has mastered such a basic element of magic.” Extending his staff, he launched forth a bolt of fire that consumed a nearby tree within an instant, leaving but a pile of ash in its wake.

I began to sweat as he hadn’t even paid the tree the courtesy of burning it properly — he’d just annihilated it almost utterly. The message wasn’t lost on me what a whole lot of mages like him could do to the rest of our trees, to say nothing of our soldiers. And the ponies were fighting them?

I waited for Juniper to tell me what to do next. But she said nothing.

“I believe this demonstration has been… adequate,” Leo clasped both of his talons onto his staff like a walking stick. “Surely such a… skilled adept as yourself could do better. Your turn, Barrel Rider.”

Methinks there was nothing left for me to do but trust in the power of Juniper’s big stick. I gave an elaborate flourish of my hoof and pointed my staff at a very large tree, bigger than the one the Imperial Archmage had incinerated, and evoked the power of the staff to strike it down.

But my heart sank as nothing happened.

Praepus laughed. “Have you mayhap tried holding it the other way around?”

The entire assembled host of gryphons began to laugh really hard at my expense. Even Leoptolemy was stifling laughter behind his paw.

My cheeks began to flush in fear and embarrassment—’tis certain there is little worse for a businessbat than being unable to deliver when the goods or proof of delivery were demanded. Maybe I needed to say a magic word or something? You’d think Juniper would have been a dear and told me that! No, I was going to have to improvise this little ‘miracle’.

“By the might of the Highborne, I strike down this tree!” I shouted importantly but impotently as I shook the staff menacingly in its general direction. But again, not so much as a puff of smoke or even a bent leaf on my target came from my proclamation.

Leo shook his head, still laughing into his paw as he turned to face the Paladin. “Exarch Praepus, methinks you’re right. This really was a waste of time.” Leo turned back to face me, his expression smug. “Perhaps, you should try smacking it with the stick? A bit crude but if that’s really the best your race can come up with…”

At that moment, I completely lost my mind over the whole disaster unfolding before me. If striking the tree was the best I could do for these gryphons, then by the Stars, that’s what they were going to get!

“Graaagh!” I heaved the staff as hard as I could at the tree, so much so that it overshot the tree entirely and landed in the pond with a blinding flash of light and a deafening explosion. The blast knocked me backwards and I fell to the ground, completely stunned. I couldn’t see anything but severe spots in my slitted pupils—Highborne eyes are not quite as sensitive as Nightborne ones, but a sharp flash is still quite painful—and my tufted ears rang uselessly.

When my hearing began to function again, I could hear squawks of terror and staccato bursts of spoken Aeric among the assembled parley force. When the blindness finally fell from my eyes, I looked out at the pond to see the water itself was burning with blue, eldritch flames as steam rose from its shining surface. Archmagus Leoptolemy was gripping his staff with both of his foretalons whilst flying a few feet off the ground and scanning the horizon, likely for threats; he next tried to extinguish the flames with an ice spell, but to his further shock, it had no effect.

Slowly and cautiously, I approached the lake from the air. Had I been thinking clearly, I mayhap might have stopped to consider the gryphons might attack me after exploding and somehow setting afire a body of water in their presence. But if they’d considered me a threat they were too stunned themselves to attack.

The entire pond had completely burned off by the time I reached its erstwhile shore, where all the grasses and bushes around it had either been burned or flattened in an outward-facing pattern. And at the bottom of its former pool, embedded into the scorched and blackened earth at the deepest part of the crater, was my undamaged staff! Amazed and feeling somewhat giddy, I retrieved it and flew up to the shore, then stood proudly before them, holding it again.

“You asked for a fire spell greater than yours. Was that sufficient?” I asked, feeling for the first time a strong sense of pride. I didn’t know how, but I had done it! “Fire that cannot be extinguished! Arcane flames that consume all—even water itself!”

A speechless Archmage Leoptolemy stared at me in shock and wonder. “That… was phenomenal magic, Emissary! I have never seen such powerful and unquenchable flames before! And your staff actually survived the spell? Impossible! May I see it?”

“As you wish.” My confidence suddenly feeling and sounding far less forced, I passed him the hunk of wood. With any luck, he’d be able to explain to me just what in the Cosmos had happened and I could play intelligent for a change.

He ran his paws over the rough surface of the wood. “Not a trace of magic left in it… Fascinating…” He experimentally tried to channel a spell through it as he did his staff, but he failed; he then tried to throw it as I had only for it to have no effect. “Is it spent?”

I did not know. So I retrieved it myself, aimed it at a rock from my hover and threw it again; there was another explosion as the boulder was instantly shattered, its fragments encased in purple flames as they were slowly reduced to vapor.

“How is this possible…?” The Archmage looked to be at a complete loss as he reflexively conjured and then dissipated a shield. “How could this magic be one we can neither detect nor wield?”

“Those answers are ours to know,” I replied, finally feeling in complete control. “And ones we may share… only if we deem you worthy.” I said, retrieving the staff one final time and standing before him, tossing it back to him. “Here. Examine it again, if you wouldst wish.”

I remained silent as he inspected the staff a second time. I heard then Praepus approach at a more lumbering gallop—he was so stunned he hadn’t taken flight!—as he joined his compatriot in examining the weapon, though methinks he did so with about as much acumen as I possessed.

Namely, none.

“Methinks…” Leo passed me back my staff “... that if a magical neophyte such as yourself could wield such might, the Highborne will make excellent allies indeed!”

“Someone such as myself, honored Magus?” I replied uncertainly.

“Indeed!” he replied with a far more respectful and even reverent tone than he had used before. “While methinks you have… you wouldst forgive me for saying, very little in the way of magical training, your High Priestess’s point is made quite clear by your presence here today. You are no magus, yet you exceeded our abilities with but a single staff! Such a powerful weapon in the talons of even a mere novice would greatly bolster our armed forces! Imagine if all our soldiers could wield such powerful magic and not just the Magus legion! We would quickly become invincible! Wouldst you not agree, Praepus?”

Praepus eyed me disdainfully, if far more warily. “Methinks, this Barrel Rider is more lucky than strong. And we know not the nature of this... weapon yet. But, eh… I say they have shown themselves to be more powerful than we first thought. Mayhap we should allow the Highborne a chance to prove themselves in battle. If and only if they do so, would I recommend we agree to this... alliance.”

“Excellent!” I extended my hoof in friendship to the Archmage, which he bumped with his talons in a like gesture. Methinks Juniper must have been watching everything because the official chariot of the High Priestess pulled by a trio of three thestralcorn priests suddenly flew over the clearing and landed in our midst.

“The High Priestess will see you now, honored guests. She will discuss the terms of our pact directly with you, Archmagus Leoptolemy, as well as your second, Exarch Praepus. Please board our chariot, and I will escort you to her.” Hypereon addressed them with far more respect than he had me.

“Then by all means, let us be off!” Leoptolemy quite eagerly agreed to do so; Exarch Praepus much less so. When they were aboard, they were not flown back, but teleported there in a flash of light. I was not privy to what followed, left to entertain the remaining gryphons with tales of Highborne history until the pair returned with their signed agreement, both looking somewhat dazed; I can only assume they witnessed the same terrifying demonstration of cosmic power I had upon entering the temple for the first time. But whatever happened, and impossible as it seems, ‘tis indeed how our wartime alliance with the Empire began.

Methinks I’ve gone over this single surreal day in my head for years trying to make sense of it all. To what extent did Juniper know what I was going to do or have a hoof in controlling the outcome? Did she know I was going to throw the staff at the tree? What was she planning to do if I didn’t?

What was going to happen if, Cosmos forbid, I missed the lake and blew up the gryphons? I’ve been negotiating with different groups for decades; I still must do so in my guise of Chairbat. Methinks I’m quite competent at what I do, but Juniper Neptune the VIIth broke just about every single one of my rules for dealing with the other party. And yet…

It all worked out for what seemed like the best that day. And methinks three decades later, Juniper still hasn’t fully explained her part!

Adoration of the Magi

Patience, my beloved Barrel Rider. We have an eternity together to discuss such trivial matters. What’s important is that you never gave up. Even when all hope seemed lost, you never lost sight of the goal. You demonstrated your faith, and as such, you were rewarded. And for what you eventually gained all of us, ‘tis certain you will be rewarded again and again.

—High Priestess of the Stars, Juniper VII Neptune

Methinks you are nothing if not generous, my love. And yet, ‘twould not be the war that gained us what we now have. Or at least, not in the way ‘twas originally intended. For one lesson both sides of the thestral divide would have to learn is that the best-laid plans of bats and birds would not be so readily realized, and that the Empire did not have our best interests at heart.

Mayhap some of it was predictable with the benefit of hindsight, but what all must understand is that when you labor like the Highborne under not one but two oppressive powers, you wouldst grasp any opportunity you can gain to break free of them.

Our entry into the conflict was coming quickly, and ‘twould not turn out the way any envisioned it. For war is the harshest of teachers, and ‘tis certain we, no less than the Gryphons, Equestrians, or Nightborne, had much to learn from it.

—Barrel Rider

“Some things have to be believed to be seen.”

― Madeleine L'Engle

Author's Note

AJ’s Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who came out for this, the 4th anniversary of Into The Storm!

I’m not entirely sure how on the nose my story and its message is but if it isn’t painfully obvious enough already, I wanted to convey a different sort of story with Barrel Rider. I’m not as good a writer as Firesight and not blessed with his tactical and strategic mind. I’m not a very military kind of guy at all.

But I was raised a Christian which gave me an angle on this fic we hadn’t seen yet — a relatively weak character serving to channel the might of one greater than himself, relying on his belief to get him through circumstances beyond his control through faith. Even now as I sit here listening to “Adoration of the Magi” from the Ben Hur soundtrack on repeat, I can’t help but feel a bit nostalgic for watching the movie, feeling extremely hungry from the fasting that started on Good Friday and only ending the following Easter Sunday. Not joking. At one time, I was so religious I was actually fasting! Oh, I hated it at the time but I feel better for having endured it as a child.

I’m not so religious now as you could probably guess but it taught me something about sacrifice and I have no regrets.

Thanks Firesight for giving me the chance to write for your story. I really doubted myself a lot that I could write anything at all worth standing in one of your stories. You are, as mentioned, so much stronger than I am at writing. But sitting here reading over it now and reading through the many edits you added to it, I feel happy with it. As a concept, I’m proud of my work, even if I can only take partial credit for the prose itself.

I look forward to my next entry into the canon of Barrel Rider. And to the rest of you, keep the faith. It may be all that we have in these dark times.

Thanks, AJA. I’m not going to say too much here because I don’t want to take the spotlight from you, but at least like to say that I’ve watched you get steadily better as a writer over the years with some help from me, and the lore you’ve come up with is the equal of any on site, including the great Demon Eyes Laharl (Peace be upon him), father of the Gentlemenverse.

Thanks for allowing me to shamelessly borrow that lore and add to it, incorporating it into my own stories. Your added section here was wonderful, and all I did was spice it up like I do my steaks and then sear it, basting it in the butter of additional dialogue and details before serving it medium rare.

Thanks go to you, Silentwoodfire and Silverblade5 for the prereads, as always. I’ll have more to say on this in a coming blog, but this chapter release marks an incredible four years since the launch of Into the Storm! :pinkiegasp: Maybe she continue to fly her flag for that many more years and chapters, as there is a lot of story and battles yet to get to!

—Firesight