The Royal Equestrian Guardsmen patrolled the perimeter of the forward operating base, keeping a clear line of sight on the avenues of approach with their heavy ordnance while the lighter forces surveyed the treeline. They had cobbled together this FOB between frequent and heavy assaults from the Gryphon insurgent forces. In the past year, there was an unprecedented, individual uprising of every racial territory under the reign of Equestria. The first of which being the Gryphons. Previously there had been no desire to do such a thing, for it was simply understood that while Ponies and Gryphons may visit and interact with each other, they are culturally and physically different and are best suited to live around their own respective kinds. But out of nowhere, with a seemingly infinite amount of funds being supplied by an unknown element, a group known as The Black Talon rose to rapid power and began pushing the idea of autonomy for Gryphos, despite being legally recognized as an ethnic state and having no taxes imposed on them by The Equestrian Crown. Gryphonkind overwhelmingly supported this idea, and The Black Talon's council demanded a meeting with Princess Celestia herself.
"Xoloth, while I can't imagine your reasoning for wanting such a thing as secession, it is your right to desire autonomy for your kind..." Celestia spoke, in a surprised tone that shifted to a feigned sternness as she went on.
"So autonomy is to be granted to Gryphos, Princess Celestia?" Xoloth, the head chairman of The Black Talon replied inquisitively.
"Yes, but under one condition: Your state's naval and air forces are the only thing preventing the Dragon menace from having a clear shot at our coastline down the Celestial Sea. We only ask that you cooperate with us in securing this route in the future. Otherwise? I'm afraid I cannot grant your request, as I refuse to put Ponykind in danger over such a small issue."
"I think we have a deal, Princess Celestia."
Captain Shining Armor called a break in the patrol, and slumped down next to a rock as the fatigue finally hit his athletic frame. He doffed his helmet, looking into the leather suspension harness to see a picture of Twilight. Tears pressed against the backs of his eyes like a river against a dam, but he choked them back as to not appear weak in front of his comrades. She had been seriously wounded in one of the many Dragon raids that became all too common after the secession of Gryphos, and last he had heard, she was undergoing intense surgeries for a long list of fractures, lacerations, burns, and smoke inhalation. Almost as soon as Gryphos had been granted autonomy, Xoloth and his council received a delivery: A crate, filled to the top with gold and jewels, weighing nearly a ton. Atop the riches sat an envelope, sealed with wax and containing a letter with instructions, which were short and direct:
"Go to the Dragon-folk, offer them passage along your coastline, and tell them to make entry to Equestria along the railroads between Fillydelphia and Baltimare. I have secured a direct route to Canterlot through that area for their forces."
Spitfire flew low to the ground, at the bottom of the valley as to not silhouette herself on the mountains' ridges. Holding up a hoof, she slowed to a stop on the brimstone and went prone, the Wonderbolts doing the same in tandem. The Wonderbolts had been assigned to perform Recce Operations in the land of the Dragons, gathering intelligence on any future raids so they can be either sabotaged or adequately protected against, which had proven to be successful in saving pony lives thus far. Peering over a smoldering stump, Spitfire watched and listened as the Dragons mingled around the massive bonfire, watching as a strange character in a black cloak approached them. It was obviously an Equine, who are totally unwelcome in Dragon territory under normal circumstances. She deduced that he or she must have something of value to offer them, since their head was still attached to their neck. The mysterious Equine approached the throne of Jewels located in the center of the encampment, talking to two brutish looking Dragons before being allowed to pass and walk up to the behemoth that was Garth Vårmester, a hulking beast of blue and gold scales layered upon rippling muscles. He was the leader of the largest Dragon Warband currently active, the Draugrpakt. Straining to listen closely, she managed to gather that the next target would be Appleloosa. The cloaked Equine departed from the camp, and Spitfire quickly did the same. The Dragons act quick, and it is always imperative to get the information back to The Crown as fast as possible so preparations can be made.
A sharp series of clangs filled the air as Braeburn hammered the iron rods into the hard clay surrounding his town, his entourage following behind with concertina wire they fixed onto the X-shaped supports. Sweat poured down his face like a curtain, forcing him to rub a hoof across his eyes periodically. The invasion was supposed to happen some time that night, and the sun was only a couple hours from setting, so everyone in the town was rushing to erect fortifications and receive orders from the Royal Guard detachment sent to help defend the town. A Unicorn Colt, assigned as the leading Intelligence Officer for the deployment, observed the work being done with a smirk of approval. While reporting the progress back to Canterlot, which he did every hour as ordered, he was interrupted by a scroll which appeared in a burst of blue aura. The edges of the scroll charred from the speed at which it was delivered through the magical plane, it dropped to the Colt's hooves, leaving small bits of ash on the sand. He picked it up, inspected the seal, and began unrolling it. As his eyes grazed the paper, his expression changed from that of confidence to sheer terror.
"RELAY ON ME, AND PACK IT THE FUCK UP! WE HAVE BAD INTEL!" The Colt shouted, sending the soldiers and civilian laborers into a frenzy.