The Siege Of Canterlot

The Holy Army marched east. Saint Swiftmane's Pass was a handsome cutting through the mountains, with a paved road winding its way to the eastern plains beyond, ably carrying the weight of Celestia's heavy guns and the powder train that the artillery needed, as well as mass bodies of ponies, striding in step with each other, and the armoured bulk of the cavalry. Only such well-treated roads could properly support an army in a fast march, for to be forced to move over dirt tracks or, worse, uneven ground, meant it was much harder for the infantry to keep in time with each other, much more tiring for pony and horse alike, and risked both the cavalry and the artillery getting bogged down entirely, wasting precious time and opening them up to potential enemy ambushes.

The march over the pass was uneventful, the guard posts at either end cheering as the Holy Army passed by, their Princess at its head. Just east of the pass, they stopped for the night, bivouacking at the roadside, a field of tents stretching out across the gently rolling plain. The stars overhead were bright and clear away from the lights of the capital. For some of the ponies it had been a long time since they had seen such a beautiful starscape, for some of the units attached to the Holy Army had not been deployed outside of Canterlot for months. Their training regimen, however, had been constant, drilling with musket and bayonet, pike and sword, hand to hand combat, magic, formation marching across the plateau, and all of the other basics that would always need to be sharp whenever battle was joined.

The camp, surrounded by a strong inner picket and an outer cordon of observation posts, was a hubbub of noise and smells, from the hearty stews and soups being boiled in the cooking pots, to the less salubrious stench of the pit latrines off to one side, well away from the clean mountain stream that provided fresh water. With three days on the road already, it would be another four days' march, at least, to Saltsburg, but the Changeling army's scouts, and even a larger force probing toward the mountains, might well be encountered sooner than that. Princess Celestia had sent scouting parties out ahead of the main army to report back any sign of hostile contact, but there was nothing yet. Nor had the guards at Saint Swiftmane's Pass seen anything untoward. They were two nights away from the Hornburg, the fortress-key of the eastern line that protected the mountain pass, meaning that theoretically they were still in friendly territory. Thus Celestia was happy enough to permit a full camp tonight, albeit with a full guard posted, but she had decreed that the soldiers had better make the most of it, for it would probably be the last night when so much noise and light would be allowed.

Inside the royal tent, Celestia sat reviewing what they knew of the situation. They had reports from Saltsburg, though none for the past three days while they had been traveling. No new messengers had reached them. There had been one report from the lightly fortified castle at Bark's Keep stating that they had sighted a substantial enemy force, and then that was all. Bark's Keep was some thirty miles to the west of Saltsburg, which meant that the enemy was already making substantial inroads, though whether they had attacked the castle or not was unclear. No further reports had been received.

The sounds of laughter echoed across the camp, and the clanking of metal stewpots as the meal was served to the hungry soldiers. A cough outside her tent and the silhouette of a figure let Celestia know that she was wanted.

"Come," she commanded, and the flap of the tent was pulled aside by magic to allow the entry of the substantial frame of General Ostmane, Duke of Pomareania, one of the eastern provinces, and the field commander of the Holy Army. As Hawkeye's deputy, he had been the obvious replacement for his superior when Celestia had decreed that Hawkeye should remain in command of Canterlot.

"Your HIghness." Ostmane bowed his head. "The scouts have returned. No sightings this evening."

"Very good..." Celestia nodded. "Sit with me a while, General, won't you?"

"Yes, Your Highness." The well-built, cobalt-blue unicorn let the tent flap close behind him and seated himself in the finely decorated chair opposite Celestia's small desk, lugged along with the rest of her tent and accoutrements atop a large wagon. The Princess, like other leaders, did not travel to war in quite the same way as the rest of their armies, having a private tent, a private latrine, and much finery, partly as a display of wealth and also for added comfort. It would not do for the ruler of Equestria to slum it upon a camp bed or atop a few simple woollen blankets, unless she specifically asked to do so. She was, after all, still their Princess, even if she was not in her capital city.

Ostmane was as accustomed to finery as Celestia, for his noble rank as a Duke entitled him to similar trappings as those with which the Princess surrounded herself. His uniform was a fine brocade, gold entwined with purple to symbolise that he was of high birth, being as he was a distant cousin of Celestia herself. It was as much a statement of his origins as his rank, though his combat armour was much more subdued and less ornate. It would not do for somepony to outshine her on the battlefield.

"How is morale in the camp, General?" Celestia asked, pouring a second serving of steaming tea into a fine china cup and handing it over to him.

"Morale is excellent, Your HIghness," Ostmane replied, accepting the tea with thanks and taking a delicate sip that belied his size. "Having their Princess with them is certainly boosting the spirits of the troops." More laughter could be heard from outside to prove his point.

"Good. Do you think that will last once we encounter the enemy?" Celestia asked him directly, elegantly sipping her own tea.

"I believe it will," Ostmane nodded. "They are confident of victory with you at their head, Your Highness, and they are eager to taste battle with the enemy."

"This invasion...I know I have asked you before, General, but what do you make of it now that we are actually out here in the field?" Celestia continued to probe her officer while sipping her tea. Since she was only resting, she did not wear her armour, but merely a set of fine silken robes, white with gold hems, in the traditional royal style, one that showed the elegance not just of the clothing, but also of the form of the wearer. Her robes performed both tasks amply.

"It still puzzles me, Your Highness," Ostmane admitted. "I would not be surprised if there was some trick or another to this, but it seems clear that we do have an invasion underway. The Changelings could not deceive us in that fashion. We have messages from Saltsburg and Bark's Keep. They in turn received messages from multiple border posts. The governor sent us a letter in his own handwriting."

"Agreed." Celestia nodded sagely. "There are still many things we do not understand about this. Why now, why here? Why no declaration of war? Equally if this were some rogue General having his way with his military playthings, why no apology from the Queen? It worries me."

"As it should, Your Highness," Ostmane replied. "You have much weight to bear upon your shoulders. The fate of this army and this campaign, yes, but also the safety of the entire kingdom. The possibilities must be considered. What if this is just a diversion? Though the apparent size of the Changeling force suggests otherwise. It seems likely they have committed a majority of their forces to this attack."

"That is what worries me," Celestia stood after finishing her tea, accepting Ostmane's bow as he did likewise, ready to depart her tent. "A majority is not an entirety. Let us hope they do not have anything else planned."

"Sweet Celestia..." Snapshot gasped in dismay. This was not good. Not good at all.

To the north of the city, three holes had opened in the earth, seemingly from nowhere. Yet it rapidly became clear they were tunnels, leading from who knew where. Presumably the Changeling side of the border, given what was emerging from them. Swarms of Changeling soldiers, their black uniforms matching their black carapaces, standing out against the green of the grass. Several civilian wagons were passing nearby, trying to flee the city along the north road, and the Changelings set upon them with glee, easy targets. The crackle of musketry could be clearly heard over the clamour of the bells, and Snapshot watched on aghast as the Changelings gunned down the driver of one wagon and several of the passengers of another. Bodies tumbled from the rear, including one small bundle that could only have been a foal. One of the horses was also struck, and fell to its knees, whinnying furiously. It managed to stand again and free itself from its harness, bolting away and leaving the wagon motionless. The panicked survivors turned back for the safety of the town.

"Captain!" Snapshot screamed, pointing desperately to the north. "We're under attack! They're behind us!" Up in the tower, Oats spun round. She had been looking through the telescope at the onrushing Shadow Army to the south, the clear and present danger. The north was meant to be clear, secure, at least until those enemies arrived. But now it seemed they had already been outflanked.

"Muskets to the walls!" Oats cried. "Crew those cannons and get them firing! Sergeant, send a messenger to the Colonel, tell him we have Changelings to the north!"

Snapshot gripped his rifle firmly, rushing to the stone parapet of the high wall overlooking the north road. A few dozen soldiers were already there, watching over the gate closure; at least that was barred and secured now, some small measure of protection. "Wait for them to get into range, and then fire at will!" Snapshot called, taking aim himself. The Changelings were too far away for accurate fire, but they would be getting closer. More of them poured from the holes in the earth, several clambering onto the horseless wagon to loot it. One of the other fleeing wagons was brought to a halt by a blast of magic from a Changeling officer that shattered one of its wheels. Some of the ponies running back to the city were cut down, and those who weren't found the gates barred and locked, sealing them out.

One of the cannons roared into life as it got a clear shot on the halted wagon. The cannonball smashed through the crates of household goods it was carrying and knocked the Changelings aside like tumbleweeds, severing limbs as it went. The Changelings began to charge toward the city walls, forming up into their units. Another cannon flashed and belched smoke, sending a heavy iron ball at the enemy. It bounced off of the grass and struck a Changeling square in the stomach, tearing through him and sending his intestines spilling out behind him like a string of sausages as he tumbled to the ground.

The Changelings, like ponies, had different sub-species, and they were all on display. Some, the drones, had both wings and a horn, a curiosity considering that, among ponies, only the Princess and her banished sister possessed both features. Others, the workers, had merely a horn, and one that was mostly an evolutionary dead-end in that it barely functioned at all, and certainly with nothing like the utility that a unicorn could garner from theirs. There were also the larger subspecies that functioned as officers for the military, taller and stronger than the rest. Then, unique amongst them, there was the Queen. She was the tallest of all, and there was only one matriarch of the entire race at any one time. Birthed by the previous Queen, she would be raised in the duties necessary to allow her to take over control of the Changeling nation once she was old enough, sharing in the Hive Mind that every Changeling took part in, but having the unique ability to issue commands instead of merely receiving or relaying them.

It was the drones that would worry Trottingham, for they were the ones that could fly. The thick stone walls of the city could keep the others at bay, but they could be overcome. As the Changelings closed in, the musketponies on the wall opened fire, a crackling volley that struck down several of the attackers. Many of the Changelings carried muskets of their own, but others were armed merely with swords, axes and other close combat weapons. Eager to close the gap, they leaped into the air, their insect-like wings carrying them with a distinctive buzzing sound. The louder the sound, the more of them there were, and the more unsettling it became to their adversaries.

"Incoming!" somepony shouted. Snapshot was busy reloading his musket, a lengthy process. A bayonet hung below the barrel, and he quickly adopted a fighting stance with it. The first Changelings began to land atop the wall, but they were outnumbered by the defenders. More ponies were climbing the stairs at a trot, members of the city militia sent to support the soldiers, but more Changelings were taking to the wing as well. Snapshot braced himself as a drone landed near him, a spiked club in its hands. It turned to him, baring its fangs in a malicious grin.

"For Celestia and the motherland!" Snapshot cried, lunging forward. The drone jumped back and swung its club, deflecting his bayonet. It tried to catch him with the reverse sweep, but Snapshot ducked the club and brought the butt of his musket around, smashing into the drone's face and making it stumble. He pressed his advantage, bringing the gun back around, slashing the blade of the bayonet across his opponent's cheek and eye. The drone hissed in pain and its horn emitted a blinding flash of white light. Snapshot turned away, eyes dancing with stars and a crazed pattern of colour. It was like gazing into the mane of the Princess for too long and finding it imprinted upon his eyelids.

Blinded, Snapshot could not defend himself. The drone stood unsteadily, green blood dripping from its wounded eye, and raised its club to strike him, when a musket ball tore through its skull and sent it tumbling. As his vision returned, Snapshot raised his musket against the shadowy figure that he saw before him.

"Easy, boy, easy," the surprisingly reassuring voice of Sergeant Billhook could be heard as the overweight unicorn puffed his way up to the Corporal, a smoking musket in his hands. "Can you see?"

"Just about, Sergeant..." Snapshot replied, blinking furiously to try and dispel the cascade of stars filling his eyes. Each blink brought more vision back to him, and Billhook stood beside him. Captain Oats brought up the rear, leaving Ramble up in the watchtower with his heavy musket, popping off shots at the Changelings down below. More Changelings were landing on the wall, and their targets became clear. They were trying to seize the cannons, either to turn them on the city or just to stop them firing down at their compatriots outside the walls.

"Let's go, ponies!" Oats shouted. "To me, boys, to me!" Snapshot, able to see again, rallied with the Captain and the others of his company who formed up around her. All along the wall, ponies were fighting individual battles against Changeling drones. Militiaponies were coming up from the street below to support them, but more drones were coming over the wall to join the battle as well. Some were swooping clean over the wall and down into the city, with another objective in mind. Half a dozen drones landed in the mud of the street leading to the gate, firing their muskets and then discarding them to draw curved swords instead. Their surprise attack caught the soldiers around the gate off guard, killing several and leaving the others isolated.

"They're going for the gate, Captain! They're trying to open it!" Billhook called, spotting the danger.

"Damn...Sergeant, take your ponies down and support the gate. Don't let them open it. You, militia!" Oats called, pointing to the flamboyantly-attired city militia, clad in whatever brightly coloured garb they happened to be wearing when the attack came. "Militia with me, support the soldiers on the wall! For the Princess!"

Snapshot swung away to follow Billhook, but found himself suddenly impressed with Captain Oats. If she was still hungover, she didn't show it any longer, taking decisive action and charging headlong into the melee. Together with Billhook's damned accurate musket shot that had saved his life, Snapshot wondered if he hadn't underestimated the caliber of pony he had been posted alongside after all.

"Let's move!" Billhook shouted. "Down the stairs we go, lads and lasses! Get ready for a fucking fight!"