Alpha & Omega

CHAPTER 4: THE REBELLION

Dawn Castle, Henosia, 11 A.N.M.

Far to the east of Talos Bao'Dur, Dawn Castle, the capital of Henosia, stood silent between vast swathes of conifers. Dirt and pale grass peeked through melting taiga snow, blue jays and mockingbirds picking up worms and bits of straw for their nests as a lone deer grazed what small patches of grass there were.

Early springtime in the boreal forests of Henosia was always a beautiful sight to behold. Especially without the magic of Equestrians to pacify it, as much as Princess Iridia hated to admit. There was something about the natural beauty of nature. The ponies in Equestria, far to the west on the continent of Equus, were afraid of such things, even going so far as to call such places free of magical influence dangerous and nightmarish. A small part of her sympathized with the griffons and their distrust of magic for this reason, especially with how Celestia has been spreading her influence across the world as of late.

Iridia sat next to a tall conifer tree, a green blanket covering the dirt beneath her. She raised a cup of tea to her muzzle and took a sip. From where she sat she could see a tall, misty mountain far in the distance through the trees. Forests crawled up the base of it like moss, stopping just short of snow-covered rock. A jagged stream cut through part of it, which, out of sight, branched off of a long river that was the source of Dawn Castle's fish.

Times like these in between training rituals for her snow ponies were when she could best appreciate silence. No gunfire popping, no blacksmiths hammering, no practice swords clashing. Just the birds and the wind.

"My lady," came a stern voice from behind her, shattering the silence. But it did not anger her, she simply took another sip of her tea while idly watching the trees sway in the frigid wind, "Princess Sparkle's carriage is nearing Dawn Castle. Estimated time of arrival is one hour and thirty minutes. Do you wish to greet her when she lands?"

"There is plenty of time before then, Diamond Dozen. I would appreciate it if you joined me, it's a beautiful day," said Princess Iridia, still watching the skies as she spoke.

One couldn't see Diamond Dozen's expression through his closed armet, but from the confused sound he made he seemed surprised at her request. He stammered slightly before he finally remembered what words were, his voice flanged slightly through the reverb of his helmet, "I-It would be an honor, my lady."

He stepped onto the blanket and curled up next to Iridia. There were two free cups. Reaching down, he picked it up by the large handle, big enough for an earth pony or pegasus to place their hoof inside, and raised it to his face. Iridia floated over the pot and poured the piping hot liquid into the cup.

"So, tell me about yourself, Diamond."

"Nothing you don't already know, your majesty," he said, feeling much more brave in speaking to the princess, "I was born in Concordia, where my father worked as an alchemist. My father was a sphinxpony, whereas my mother was a simple earth pony like me. She passed away when I was young -- she was sick with some unknown illness. My father worked day and night to find a cure for her ailment, but he was so frustrated he destroyed his work in his rage. He never forgave himself for letting her die.

"After her death, we couldn't bear to stay in one place. We traveled from city to city, hoping to find a new life. I spent most of my childhood with my father and his assistant, Sirus. We moved too often for me to keep friends, so I was a loner for the most part. Sirus acted as my teacher, most everything I know I learned from him."

Diamond Dozen went to take a sip of his tea, but he had forgotten he still had his helmet on. Placing the cup down on the saucer, his chainmail coat rattled as he reached up and slowly raised the green adamantium armet from his head. The armet lost it's plume when he took it off, the long slot for his purple, mohawk-styled mane empty. He took a sip of the tea, wiping a small droplet off his lip with a cream colored hoof. Iridia was watching him intently.

"Eventually, when I became of age, I left my father and headed north to Henosia, where I took up a job as an apothecary, tending to the sick and selling potions. My father always steered clear of the colder regions of the continent, probably to be expected of a sphinxpony. To be honest, I much prefer the weather here to the sandstorms and blasting heat of Concordia.

"When the changelings invaded less than a decade ago I decided to serve my new home and I joined the Henosian Knights. My skills in alchemy, thanks to Sirus' teachings, made me an excellent field medic. I even brewed some custom gunpowder for the grenadiers on occasion. I don't mean to boast, but I was told that without me, they wouldn't have enough explosives to blast open the changeling hive's heart."

"Ah, yes, I remember," said Iridia. Her cup of tea was sat on top of it's saucer on the blanket, only a few drops left inside, "I oversaw the siege on King Cocoon's hive. I was originally going to send a request for more explosives, which would have taken days to arrive, and by then we'd have been overrun. Imagine my surprise when they said a soldier had made an even more potent type of explosive powder that punched a hole right into the King's chambers. I believe the soldiers called it 'Diamond Dust' in your honor."

Diamond Dozen blushed slightly, swirling around the tea in his hooves before taking another sip. Pausing slightly, he continued, "After the war, I got a letter informing me of the death of my father and Sirus. It came out of nowhere -- my father wasn't even that old, Sirus even younger than him. It said my father had drunk himself to death. Immediately, I knew something was up. He never drank, not even when he was at his worst. A bit more surprising was that it said he was living in Trottingham, all the way in Equus to the west.

"First thing the next morning I boarded an airship heading to Canterlot, and took a train south to Pisa, a hamlet slightly north of Trottingham. When I arrived at Trottingham, there was nothing left but smoldering ruins. An entire town destroyed this deep into Equestrian borders. The workers there gave me mixed stories, some of them saying it was bandits, others a forest fire. The only thing I found in the rubble was my father's amulet," finished Diamond Dozen, reaching beneath his breastplate and pulling out a pendant. It was an iron fluer-de-lis, the symbol of Concordia, "After that, I returned to Henosia and worked my way up to a Captain within the knights. I guess the rest is history."

There was a long, frigid silence, only broken by the occassional woodpecker or bluejay.

"You're the only pony I've ever told that story to, you know," said Diamond, idly watching the trees and birds.

"I am honored, then," said Iridia, smiling warmly at Diamond, "It seems you have lived quite a stressful life, Diamond. I, too, know what it is like to lose loved ones, especially a parent."

"Wait, really?" asked Diamond, turning to Iridia, "I mean to disrespect, of course, my lady."

"Think nothing of it," waved Iridia, "And yes, my mother to be exact. Many of my sisters, as well..."

She was going to continue, but a whooshing of air drew her attention. The two looked up to see a gold and lavender carriage sweeping around the castle.

"Princess Twilight is early," said Diamond Dozen, finishing his tea and placing his armet back on his head.

Iridia's face sank slightly, "Ah well. I enjoyed this moment while it lasted," she said as she rolled up the blanket using her magic, basket and all, before poofing it out of existence.

"As did I, princess," Diamond said as he picked up his spear and held it in his hoof, "Shall I escort you to the keep?"

Iridia smiled warmly, "I would be honored, Diamond Dozen."

And with that, they began to walk.

Talos Bao'Dur, Kingdom of Griffonia, 11 A.N.M.

The last pegasus guard made... some sort of noise. It sounded like a mix between yelping and retching, followed by a low gurgling. Quite fitting, since Ragnar had impaled the guard's throat with his spear. Ragnar placed his rear paw on the pony's underbelly, giving it a characteristically lazy yet exceptionally strong kick and retracting the spear from it's fleshy prison.

With the pony's line shattered, the mob could easily make it through the gates that blocked off the steps leading to Gryphus Palace. Even as civilians, they could put up a fight. They maintained none of the brutal elegance of the kingsguard, but they made excellent brawlers and berserkers, especially with the hangovers and their natural hatred of ponies keeping them full of rage. They swept past him on either side, like a rapid parting against a rock -- an accurate description.

Thankfully, the mob was avoiding killing civilian ponies.

"All this from one speech. Maybe I underestimate my kind's brutality," said Ragnar, watching as the citizens trampled over the bloody corpses of the pony guards. "Or maybe the ponies really were tyrants," he finished under his breath with slight amusement as he began to jog up the stairs with the rest of them. He didn't know the average life of a citizen here -- living amongst nobility as a kingsguard didn't help in getting a feel for the life of a peasant, that's for certain. His lack of a social life wasn't a plus either, his family were exiles who lived in a cottage in the frozen north. The only friends he had were the white she-bears he hunted, ate and wore.

More pegasi guards swooped down in an attempt to form another line at the top of the stairs, but in a hail of broken bottles and makeshift weaponry they were already run down before they even landed. The gods were probably laughing at them for wearing armor made of solid gold.

Corpses of ponies and griffons alike dotted the massive stone steps, their blood leaving red streaks in the melting snow. The mob was large enough to fill up most of the steps, but spacious enough to allow Ragnar to casually walk up to the palace while the others sprinted past him in drunken rage, a large amount of griffons also flying overhead. Ragnar always preferred to face his foe head on, with both his paws on the ground. That, combined with the cowardice he saw within ranged combat and firearms, was the reason Ragnar absolutely despised pegasus skirmishers.

Speaking of which, he noticed a lot of the corpses had arrows sticking out of them.

Ragnar looked at the corpses around him, before stepping over to a dead pony guard, narrowly dodging a griffon who sprinted past. Leaning down, he picked up the large tower shield and slammed it on the stone steps, gaining the attention of those around him, "Grab their shields! There are skirmishers about!" Almost immediately they complied, some of them dropping their second weapon to use the shield, most of them switching out their broken bottles and pitchforks for swords and spears. They ain't using them anymore.

"Form a line!" barked Ragnar, crouching down with the shield covering his body and his spear around the side. To his surprise, they did as he instructed. The line was sloppy, especially with the shields of varying sizes and shapes, but he didn't expect much military prowess from peasants.

Before the treaty signed by King Gryphus III, it was commonplace for griffon, even a mere citizen, to carry a weapon or two wherever they went. But now, they had to make due with what they had, and what was scattered on the floor. The formation began to march up the stairs, a handful more griffons charging up the stairs behind them and taking cover behind the wall.

Surely enough, when they reached the top they were met with a wave of crossbow bolts. Most of them merely bounced off, a few barely embedding themselves in the metal surface. Then, the griffons heard their favorite word.

"CHARGE!"

In unison the griffons threw down their shields, hopping over a mound of wounded griffons as they sprinted in a bloodlust at the stunned ponies in brown bodysuits, who were halfway through reloading their crossbows. As soon as they were loaded, they pointed them at the group and loosed them.

The bolts hit mere air. The griffons had taken flight with their wings, Ragnar letting out a bloodcurdling shriek of avian fury as he used his spear to break his fall on a pegasus' body. The others who had their axes and swords raised above their heads came down on the rest, embedding steel into their thick skulls and splattering red blood across the massive wooden doors of the palace.

There were a lot less griffons than previously when they landed, however. Looking up, Ragnar saw that a few of them were brawling with pegasi in mid air. Grasping the very base of his spear, Ragnar pushed as far as he could and scraped the back hoof of a skirmisher, causing her to yelp and recoil away. A perfect opening for the griffon to finish the job.

The sound of hooves clopping drew the attention of Ragnar and a few other griffons. The thestral commanding the crossbows was running like the coward pony she was.

Some of the rebels prepared to take flight, but were ordered down by Ragnar, who pointed a talon at them, "Get those doors open. There are guards inside who will give you new orders. You two, with me. This thestral is ours."

To Ragnar's displeasure they did not salute, but they still followed his orders.

As Ragnar took flight, the second griffon he ordered to follow him leaned down and picked up a crossbow, loading a bolt into it as he flew after Ragnar, who was already on the tail of the thestral.

Dawn Castle, Henosia, 11 A.N.M.

Wind swept through the manes of the ponies and the spikes of the dragon within Princess Twilight Sparkle's pegasus-drawn carriage. In contrast to the mountainous, grassy tundras of southern Griffonia, Henosia was covered in hilly forests. If Twilight didn't know any better, she'd say the goldencloaks were lying when they said this was the capital. It looked more like a large fortress, massive stone walls surrounding the perimeter, with green-armored sentries patrolling the turrets. Ballistas were placed on top of round towers, braziers next to each that allowed the engineers to light the spears they used as bolts.

It looked incredibly out of place; a pony-made hill inside of a pony-made clearing smack dab in a conifer forest with a castle the size of a village placed on top. Perhaps the walls were originally made to protect from the forest, Twilight never understood why Iridia let nature run amok within her realm.

Pops of gunfire and the clanking of a blacksmith's hammer could be heard from around the keep. The pegasi flying the carriage banked right around a watch tower, before locating the landing spot. A long clearing of cobblestone that extended slightly over the hillside.

"Not as cold as yesterday," idly stated the thestral, who had mentioned her name was Moon Moon. Twilight glanced at her for a moment, before looking back at Spike who was leaning against the side of the carriage, snoring loudly.

Soon, the carriage touched down at the landing, and the passengers, including Spike who was groggy from Twilight waking him up, leapt out. Looking around, Twilight spotted Princess Iridia and a knight-retainer walking up a staircase leading to the landing. As well as the last pony Twilight wanted to see.

The unicorn's astonishing white coat and masterfully-combed mane of golden locks contrasted drastically to his face which told the story of a boy that grew up pulling the legs from spiders. Surprisingly, he had a large, full beard the same color as his mane -- the last time Twilight saw him his face was totally clean. Almost makes him likeable, Twilight thought. Her guards joined her as she went to meet the trio.

The stallion and Iridia gave a slight bow, "Princess Twilight Sparkle, a pleasure meeting you properly."

"As with you, Princess Iridia," Twilight returned the bow. To Iridia, at least. "And you too, Prince Blueblood." She said the last word with a slightly venomous tone, as if his very name was sour to the tongue. Blueblood gave a much more intense bow beneath the shade of the keep, one that would normally be given to rulers such as Twilight.

"Princess Twilight Sparkle, Jarl Fierdsveinn is waiting for you within the keep," said Blueblood, ignoring the Princess' tone.

"Actually, I think I might want to meet my retinue first... the Goldencloaks mentioned volunteers from Ponyville?"

This time it was the guard who spoke up, "Right this way, your majesty."

The staircase the trio took to get to the landing immediately lead to the training area as they got to the bottom. Ponies crawled prone beneath barbed wire while being shot at, climbing over and rappelling down wooden walls, while pegasi flew through hoops dotted around the castle. At another area of the keep, ponies fired at targets with live ammunition.

The guard lead them to the barbed wire. Shooter troopers stood on one side of the ditch, which was dug right into the cobblestone and filled with mud, firing over the heads of the ponies with their repeaters.

"We have an archaeologist from Fillydelphia," began the guard, "She said her name was--"

"Hey, Twilight!"

"Lyra?!"

Surely enough, a familiar seafoam-colored unicorn stood up from her prone position between lines of barbed wire. The troopers had suddenly stopped firing as she stood. Stepping over the other prone ponies, she took one final leap and landed right in front of Twilight.

"What are you doing here?" asked Twilight, her jaw threatening to detach from her skull.

"I volunteered to be one of your guards!" said Lyra, rushing over and embracing Twilight in a massive hug, her kettle helmet clattering slightly, "I haven't seen you in years! You haven't aged a day!"

"Yeah, that uh... you know, being an alicorn and..." Twilight stuttered, before finding a sentence that sounded good in her head, "...So, uh, how are they treating you? With the training, and all?"

"They're taking it pretty easy on us," she said, panting slightly as she removed the helmet and allowed her mane, striped with cyan and white, to cool off in the frigid air. Her mane was damp and messy from the training, a thin stand falling in front of her bright yellow eyes, "I think they feel sorry for us civvies."

"I don't much fancy an obstacle course."

"It's not so bad," said Lyra, following the group as the guard lead them to the next training area, "By the end you're just crawling around on your belly while teenagers shoot blanks over your head."

"Well, yes and no," said the guard, cutting into their conversation.

"How's that?" asked Lyra.

"Yes, they are teenagers."

"And no?"

"...They're not blanks," he finished, getting a chuckle from the rest of the group. Except Lyra, whose smile quickly faded as what the guard said finally sank in. She had stopped walking, the rest of the group getting ahead of her as she stared out blankly into space. Finally, she regained her senses and jogged back after them, "Wait, what?!"