The Siege Of Canterlot

"Praise the Sun!"

"For the Princess!"

"Charge!"

Musket gripped tightly, bayonet gleaming, sharpened, ready, swaying with each step, the enemy closer and closer now. See the whites of their eyes, or green in this case. Changelings, nearer and nearer, reloading their muskets. Others behind, directing the fire, swords drawn, horns aglow. Screaming beside, screaming behind. Flashes of green and purple and blue, flickering in the edges of vision. Sweaty hands, shaking, tired legs, feet pounding the ground. Panting breath, burning lungs. The clatter of gunfire, the clash of steel. This was what some ponies lived for, and what others tried desperately to avoid.

Like a wave, the Equestrian charge reached the Changeling line. Unicorns let fly with blasts of magic. The grenadiers, on the right flank of every regiment as was traditional, lit the fuses of their bombs as best they could on the move and hurled them. The grenades, simple metal casings packed with gunpowder and sometimes nails for added impact, exploded among the Changeling lines mere moments before the Equestrians arrived, tearing into their chitinous carapaces and felling dozens. Just before the charge struck, a disciplined volley of fire from the Changeling frontline tore through the ponies. The wounded dropped, left behind by their fellows who raced on, striking the Changeling line.

Bayonet clashed with bayonet. Advance, parry, thrust, recover. It worked for some, and not for others. Pony and Changeling alike lived or died depending on what their opponent did, the soldier who happened to be facing them, standing their ground or rushing in to attack. All along the line, battle was joined in earnest, two armies coming together, each intent on the destruction of the other. The field would belong to one side at the end of the day, and that result would be down to the individual courage and skill of every combatant. Of course, one particularly skilled fighter could certainly turn the tide.

Princess Celestia turned away from the survivors of the Changeling cavalry, letting the hussars finish the job of harrying them away from the battle, pursuing if necessary, though not too far in case they were lured either into a trap or far enough away that they were of no further use in the battle. She, however, had another plan, and her horse, the Nameless, still another role. She leaped down from his back, almost casually, as though she were returning to the royal stables after a trial ride atop a prize racehorse. With a simple pat on his rump, The Nameless turned and trotted back dutifully toward the Equestrian lines, leaving the Princess on foot.

A group of Changelings rushed toward her, circling her menacingly, pikes, swords and axes ready. Celestia was unconcerned, which must have confused the Changelings. How could anypony be unafraid of them, especially when that pony was alone amongst them? It did not make sense. Therefore she had to be quite mad, insane, damaged in the head to do such a thing, and to send her mount away, too, the only logical route out of the predicament she had placed herself in! The Changelings would delight in such a simple kill, even if the mass of Equestrian infantry now fighting their way toward them might pose a bigger challenge. One drone lunged at Celestia with his spear.

Celestia made no attempt to dodge or block. Instead, the spear struck her armour, and the iron head melted away, the wooden haft igniting, bursting into flame to a confused look from its wielder. Celestia smiled, and her smile was like night and day; a munificent, motherly, loving smile to her followers, but a rictus grin of death to her enemies, narrowed eyes and a smirk of enjoyment at the corner of her mouth. The Changeling with the spear took a step back, his weapon useless. Celestia swung her sword, cutting off both its arms at the elbow. Another Changeling moved to strike, then another. Celestia cut them both down effortlessly. Now the others knew she was not some maniac after all; she was a threat, and a threat had to be ended as soon as possible. They all charged.

One by one, they all died.

The Equestrian infantry cheered as they saw their Princess join the fight on the ground. Other monarchs and rulers would have stuck to their mounts as they cut a more noble figure by doing so. Many would have stayed out of the fight entirely, parading behind their own army and taking the praise for a victory while the generals came up with the battle plan and the soldiers fought and died, while simultaneously passing the blame for a defeat over to their underlings. Not Celestia. As many foes had discovered down the centuries, she was more than happy to take to the field to support her troops, to fight alongside them, to share in the spoils of victory and the stinging shame of an occasional defeat- though the Equestrian Army had scarcely faltered throughout history whenever she was with them. An enemy would need overwhelming superiority in either numbers or power to be able to defeat an Equestrian army led by their Princess. This Changeling force had neither.

Celestia began to run, sprinting toward the mass of Changelings that now formed their heavily dented and depleted left flank. She moved with impressive speed, laden down with her heavy armour. Spreading her wings, she lunged forward, a sudden burst of momentum coming from nowhere. Her horn glowed and a semicircular bow wave of magic erupted outward, tossing back her foes and casting their reformed line into disarray. The Changelings had managed to regroup once the Equestrian cavalry had turned outward to engage the Changeling mounted units, but that cohesion was shattered by the twin effects of the massed ranks of Equestrian infantry smashing into their front, and the Princess charging into their flank. When she reached them, Celestia began to tear through the now shambolic defences of the Changeling flank. Several soldiers crawled about on the floor, disoriented by her kinetic blast. The first Changeling she came across found its head smashed into the dirt, crushed beneath her boot heel, its skull shattered. The next was run through with her sword. Another came with a spear, and she dodged it, grasping the shaft of the spear and yanking it from the grasp of the drone carrying it. With a deft flip, she turned it end over end and plunged it deep into the guts of the hapless drone, before lifting it up, holding it aloft with one arm, the Changeling still impaled upon it, flailing uselessly like a drowning rat. There was another cheer from her own lines.

A Changeling officer came at her with a sword of his own, parrying several of her blows as she tossed the spear and the dying drone aside. The officer stood toe to toe with her, far more adept at swordplay than his ineffectual underlings and fancying himself a worthy opponent to the Princess. For a few moments it seemed as though he might be correct, until Celestia reversed a swing, countering his attack with a clash of steel, wrenching his weapon from his grasp and quickly sweeping her sword back the other way to slice across his throat. Green blood spurted from a severed artery and the officer collapsed. Celestia continued her solo advance, aiming to link up with the Equestrian infantry who were pressing forward with the same objective, for to fight alongside their Princess was as great a motivator as the simple possibility of surviving the battle. Even if they fell, to die by her side was such a heavenly way to die, as the old proverb went.

The Changelings were in a panic, their frontline collapsing under the great pressure from the wave of Equestrian infantry. Both flanks had bowed under the pressure from the cavalry charges, but they were slowly trying to reform themselves. The hussars had gone after the Changeling cavalry, and the lancers and household cavalry were still harrying the other flank, but were being held at bay by a reinforced line of Changeling pikes, jabbing at the riders and their mounts. Celestia continued to press on, swinging her sword, her horn aglow, striking enemies down with blade and blast, cutting a one-mare swathe through the enemy as they tried desperately to fight back against the Princess and her followers who were swarming all over their front. There was no simple solution for the Changelings. Either they retreated, or they continued to take heavy casualties. Outnumbered and outfought, they were unable to advance or to counter the assault.

Celestia decapitated two drones with one mighty swing of her sword, driving to link up with the infantry, throwing the enemy line into further disarray with every blow she struck. The normally steadfast Changelings, their organisational structure held together by the officers through the mental links of the Hive Mind, were starting to buckle under the pressure. Some worker Changelings, their officers dead, were turning and actively fleeing from the Princess. That was something that had never been witnessed before. A retreat, that was one thing; orderly, disciplined, falling back unit by unit in a gradual process. But these Changelings were running away in terror, and terror was not an emotion the Changelings were prone to showing. Yet faced with the Princess and their own collapsing mental network, they were starting to suffer exactly what so many of their own foes had felt when they stood opposite a Changeling line.

As the Princess barreled through a cordon of musketeers from behind and finally linked up with her own advancing infantry, the rest of the Changeling army began a phased withdrawal from the battlefield, exactly as they would have planned; no panic, no confusion. Evidently whoever was still in command of the force had deemed their position to be untenable, and still retained enough control to be able to order the retreat in a proper fashion. One by one, units began to move back from the line, supported by others nearby, the Changeling cannons starting up with a steady drumbeat of covering fire aimed at the additional Equestrian infantry units now making their advance. The units directly behind the frontline pulled back and formed a new firing line to the rear, then finally those who were engaged turned and retreated at a run. The Equestrian infantry made to pursue, but Celestia held her sword up high and bellowed her command.

"Hold fast! Let the cowards run!"

There was another cheer from the ponies; the enemy had taken flight. They were victorious. The field, and the day, were both theirs. The beleaguered Changeling infantry who had taken heavy casualties ducked behind their own firing line, who then moved back in turn, unit by unit, covering each other's retreat. It would be easy to be lured into a trap by a suitably cunning enemy commander; many times throughout history, a retreat had been faked in order to lure an opponent into a much stronger force held in reserve to the rear, leading to their rout or destruction because of overconfidence. Celestia was certainly not going to be overconfident here. Together with Ostmane, she had agreed that the Changeling force arrayed before them on the field of battle was far from the full strength of their army here in the eastern province. It was a relatively meagre force, hence the ease with which it had been routed. It was entirely possible that the Changelings hoped to provoke a wild advance from an Equestrian army flush with joy at their victory, leading them into the teeth of massed artillery or a numerically superior Changeling force. They were not going to take the bait.

Rather than commit the army to an advance, Celestia and Ostmane ordered the cavalry units to press on and harry the retreating Changelings, but to pull back at the first sighting of any additional enemy forces. They did not need to push all the way to Saltsburg so quickly. Indeed, it would be foolish to do so. One battle and one victory would be enough for now; enough to satiate the warlike tendencies of the soldiers, enough to give the Changelings a bloody snout, enough to let the ponies of the Eastern Province know that the Holy Army had come to their aid.