Author's Note

. . .

I have gone over this chapter at least a dozen times. In fact, the reason for the delay in posting last Sunday was because I found something that didn't quite pass muster.

Honestly, it was complete dogshit, and I hated it. So...REWRITE! Of a rewrite...of a rewrite.

Life is grand, isn't it?

Anyway, this chapter is finally up and ready for your reading pleasure.

Update: As far as posting is concerned, I'm going to keep it to a three-week posting schedule. Largely due in part to my editor being forced to work 12-hour shifts. I cannot rely on them due to no fault of their own, so I am forced to become meticulous in my editing, which is why it will take me longer to post. Sorry for that.

Update 2: I recently got a new job. More pay for fewer responsibilities. Love that. The best part, I can squeeze in some writing here and there.

Finally...how have you all been? It's been a minute, and I have missed you all! I hope you are staying hydrated, getting enough sleep, and are looking forward to the fall months! (My Favorite time of year FYI)

Anyway, enjoy reading! Peace!

War, What is it Good For: Part 1

The tour seemed to stretch on with the unbearable march of a snail through tree sap. Every step had the weight of an age, every turn, the dawning of an epoch.

Orion shook his head and grimaced. "Perhaps a bit over dramatic, brain." That interruption of a background internal monolog did not help.

Still, he really couldn't be mad at their guide. That would be unjustified, considering who was in the tour group with them. It was the brats more than the parents. Underhoof and everywhere, they seemed to get into everything, and that really annoyed him.

Every five minutes:

"Heat, don't do that."

"Airedale, put that down."

"Quit picking on your brother, Seig."

On it went, and as he looked over at his tagalong, he could see the hen's will to live slowly evaporating through every sigh, every eye roll declaring her desire for death. He wasn't entirely certain whether that was her own or the family's.

Leaning over, he whispered in her ear. "I could not imagine taking care of that army of rugrats." He scandalously said. "Could you imagine me with a herd? I would be up for mass murder in five years."

The sudden gallows humor comment caused Gilda to slap a hand across her beak, attempting to stifle the giggles that broke through.

He grinned. Over the course of his stay, he found it very easy to understand soldiers' humor, so of course, Gilda Broadwing was not immune to grim jokes.

"That…is not funny, Orion." She said between gasps, struggling mightily to contain herself.

"Yes, it is, you laughed. I'm off the hook." He chuckled, earning a dark look from the drake. "Smiles over there don't seem to appreciate our good humor."

"Would you if you were contending with a nagging wife and hatchlings that won't stop messing with things?"

He shook his head, grin widening. Soon enough, the good feels were swept away, replaced by more parental admonishments, and that forced Orion to turn inward on himself.

Reviewing what they had been told so far wasn't much of an exercise. Most of what they learned was simple day-to-day stuff that the early settlers had to do when they first landed here after being unceremoniously dumped by the powers that be. That being Equestria and Griffonia, of course.

However, there were notable points in the country's development that did catch his attention.

According to Book Heart, their blonde-on-blonde guide, the history of Neighbon is a rather linear one. A few points of major historical interest have occurred since their founding some eight hundred years ago.

The large collection of war-born hippogriffs and the families that had birthed them were placed here as per the agreement between Equestria and Griffonia. The land, he knew already, had been pulled from both nations' borders to be given to the fledgling kingdom, and few resources had been offered up due to the brief war costing both taxed kingdoms more than they could realistically afford. There were just far too many of them.

Or so that was the claim.

It was a complete surprise then to the global community that the nation had not only survived its first few decades but had also discovered its talents in the mercantile and shipping business. They had managed to wedge themselves into every trading route involving water, showing an almost unnatural affinity for sailing itself.

The guide had no answer for their success. It seemed that, like Equestria, certain talents and knowledge were kept in the dark from the public though that might be largely due to his own skepticism then actual proof. As far as written history, he could see no hidden timelines within theirs that had been hidden away.

Yet there were anomalies.

What had become known to the public was that on every ship was someone called a Nav'ter Kan. The phrase did not have any known context to any language he had heard of, nor was it Prench, but it meant Stargazer in Equish though the source of the translation is still unknown, just accepted as is.

The very first Nav'ter was a hippogriff hen named Comet Wave. Her talent, while no mark ever blossomed on her flanks nor did it do so for hippogriffs in general, she displayed that rare capability to navigate the sea with remarkable ease. Neither required tools or training, it seemed.

With her help and guidance, she assisted Neighbon in forging trade deals, devised the unique way Neighbonese ships were constructed, and mapped out safe routes for the vessels to travel that possessed a talent for avoiding banditry like the plague.

Before long, it was apparent that they would need more Nav'ter as the nation's growth increased, and miraculously Comet had a solution for that. More like her appeared. A guild known as Torva' Col Nav'ter was formed around them and became the only known source of Stargazers in the nation. Or the world, for that matter.

There were arguments from local merchants of the time about the name of the Order, as well as complaints about where the Nav'ter were coming from. Those were quickly silenced as those who voiced concerns found themselves quickly in trouble on the ocean. Many of their sailing vessels outright vanished. All hands lost to the waves, which was weird, as hippogriffs can fly very well in inclement weather.

That had been the end of that, which indicated to the black pony that piracy was not as foreign of a concept to the Neighbonese people as one might believe.

Regardless of the name, these Navigators, as Orion considered them, had completely supplanted themselves into the Neighbonese culture, and at least one of them always held a position on the Council itself, even to this very day.

Any vessel without a Nav'ter was almost guaranteed to have the same issues as those foolish merchants of the past, and so by fear and custom, they became a staple of mercantilism for the nation.

What was most curious to the black colt was how someone learned they were capable of doing the job. All recruiting and training were done through the guild, and only a handful of hippogriffs had been noted to have the mindset for it every generation.

A question for another time he had mused during the tour as they were plodded along to other, less exciting lessons of history. For that's what this place was, a historical reliquary, sacred only to the people of Neighbon and no one else.

Still, it was a fun tourist spot, if nothing else. Well, to others, to him, it was all boring, and Orion was starting to believe it a waste of time to have even come here to begin with.

As a man from another world, he had seen things that would make the common rabbles' eyes pop out of their skulls. So this little tour was proving to be to his detriment, not his benefit.

A glance at Gilda showed the hen mirroring his thoughts in her slouched posture as she eyed yet another poster with the nation's detailed, monotonous path with little enthusiasm.

"Now. If you would all follow me, I will show you to Neighbon's famous ancient relics." The mare said excitedly. "We have pulled quite a bit from the sea floor in recent years and have yet to learn all of how each item functioned before history." Book smiled regretfully. "Unfortunately, our exhibit is downstairs on the basement level, and I must warn you. Despite our room of cooling crystals, the chambers below are unusually quite warm. Some have even called it hot. So if you are feeling any ill effects, please notify me or one of the staff immediately."

His ears perked up at that.

"Ancient relics? As in, pre-Neighbonese artifacts?"

His brain had also noted their tour leader's warning about the heat. But he wasn't concerned. The prospect of seeing ancient tools and artifacts from a bygone likely ignorant era was actually pulling him from the precipice of death by boredom.

Orion had often wondered how the early peoples of the land had first discovered their tools. He had hoped that with enlightenment, he could finally figure out how they learned to make radios and trains but not automobiles and planes.

"Seriously, how bad could it be?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Orion mumbled as he mopped sweat from his face with a rag that may have become as damp as he was.

Book Heart had, perhaps, undersold just how broiling the basement levels was. He felt like he was being cooked in his own skin.

Gilda had bailed on him five minutes after stepping down into the underground chambers. The family took one step in and quickly departed, too, a small mercy as the things in here sent a shiver through his spine.

There were, in fact, two levels, though the second was just a half of a full staircase down from the other. The walls were like upstairs, chiseled out rough features. However, instead of posters, reliefs, and tiny miniature ships on display upon the walls and shelves, there were long tables covered in what their guide called "undersea curiosities".

To Orion Falls, it should have been impossible to exist from a time period before bronze age tools.

Before him, as he sweated and huffed in the stifling atmosphere, eagerly drinking an already warm glass of ice water, was one of the long tables. Littered with ancient items of the times before there were hippogriffs was a creation that just could not be.

Had his Radar not already been on, he may not have recognized the contraption for what it was. A computer, more specifically, a laptop. The Gate was one thing. It was big and clunky, but this? This was something far different, more sophisticated in a way.

Corroded and likely beyond repair as it was, the computational equipment was still easily recognizable despite centuries of exposure to the sea. Though, instead of a screen, there seemed to be an array that had once been designed to project an image of whatever the device was intended to display. If not for his ill-advised repair of Celestia's Gate, he probably wouldn't have recognized that either.

Still, deep inside the board, through his enchantment, he could see the various degraded wires and tiny crystal remnants, marking that there were once working circuits inside.

He shook his head and tried his damndest to keep the shock from his face as he peered at the equipment.

"How in the holy hell did they have computers back then but somehow lose the knowledge of their creation since?!"

It was insane. Pure and simple. What made this? Where did they go? How had it come to rest buried in muck and sand, only to be dredged out now after so long? And more importantly, what was it made of to resist decay like that?

His eyes swept across the rest. Some of it was beyond him, looking to have been pulled from possibly larger devices judging by the jagged edges on some of them.

However, he knew a gun when he saw one, which set his teeth on edge.

The large rifle, looking very much like a child's toy blaster from his youth, was mostly still operational as near as he could tell. Like the gate, it merely needed a few new crystals, gems, and a realignment with the current ley line field in the area.

The weapon had clearly been built tougher than the equipment surrounding it.

"Jesus…Christ…" The thought that someone may one day figure out what it really is, made his blood run cold. At the moment, they believed it to be some type of tool meant for construction, like a hammer. Or at least according to the nameplate before it said so. The computer's tag nearly made him burst out laughing.

"Washing board."

The morons actually thought it was once used to suds up clothes!

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Book Heart's sudden voice next to his ear painfully reminded him that he was not using radar for its intended purpose, which might have been for the good, as it may have brought up uncomfortable questions as to why he was never startled.

But he could have at least done without the heart attack.

"Uh….huh?" The displays around him had frazzled his mind, and the mare's sudden appearance had left him struggling to get his head right.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She giggled, taking note of his panic-stricken face. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was implying the items on the table here." She laughed softly. "Really, this whole room. I never tire of coming down here to look at it all." Her gaze swung about them, taking in the various pieces of ancient technology. "It's all so fascinating!"

The Room of Relics, as the placard at the bottom of the stairs, so helpfully announced in a flowery hand, was big. Easily twice as big and more than the exhibits above.

As he had noticed before when he had first stepped down into the mini-hell, there were more tables than he had suspected there would be. Not only did they circle the chamber, they were set in rows of four, with five in each row. The collection before him was far more than he had expected.

"Uh, yeah. It really is…" He trailed off, looking at some more of the displays.

"That is an awful lot of firepower…"

Various but similarly designed firearms sat haphazardly upon their stands, each with a placard labeling them as something they were not. Like the weapon in front of him, they, too, looked to be in pristine condition. Considering their ocean source, it made him wonder what the difference was between them and the computer.

"I can't help but notice that some of these relics look to be in better shape than the others. Why?" He asked innocently.

Book Heart's eyes sparkled in excitement.

"That is true!" She gave him an eager smile. "I see you have a keen eye." She gestured to the gun before them. "It's the material they are made from! An advanced metal we don't know how to make encases each one. To be honest, we have no idea how to break down their very construction as the one and only time anypony has attempted to do so. It resulted in a massive explosion that took the poor pony's life." She said sadly.

Despite morbid horse death being the topic, her voice had not lost any of its zeal for the subject.

"Our ancestors must have been working with magical forces beyond our current understanding for such an accident to occur." Her tone was almost reverent.

"Or it could be that whoever had made these things didn't want someone fucking with them and put in security measures to keep prying eyes in their sockets. Or on the walls."

A quick glance at the weapon showed a similar anti-tampering device, like the one in the gate, buried in the hilt of the weapon. Instead of masking what was inside, this one appeared to look innocuous until it was time to go boom.

Celestia's Gate was proving a greater lesson than he would have ever guessed.

This one was not inert either. Somehow, through a method he could not figure out, the ancient people had come up with a way to keep it active long after their apparent demise. And without reliance on a ley line to keep it powered.

"Because of the incident, we could no longer investigate, and were instead restricted to observational study only." She looked at him. "Oh, you do not need to be afraid!" She picked the gun up and rapped it against the table several times, much to the black pony's dismay.

"Don't do that!" He shouted, reaching to snatch what amounted to a bomb away from the crazy mare.

Giggling, she kept it away from his reach. "Relax! See? It is quite harmless." She did it again, and Orion considered running. If he was fast enough, he might get out alive.

"Though, if its explosion sets off the others…" The colt shuddered.

"Just…please don't risk it to prove a point!" He cried, managing to snatch the device from her hand and place it gingerly back into place. "Please." Placing a hand on his heart, he muttered. "One of these may actually be on a hair trigger."

"Fair enough." She giggled again. "I'm sorry if I frightened you again. I merely wished to prove they were safe." Tapping a finger to her lips, she thought allowed. "Though perhaps I should not have gone that far."

"No shit." He deadpanned at her. Noting the gesture Book Heart performed was oddly griffonian in nature.

He looked back to his guide and winced when he saw her face scrunched up in distaste.

"Sorry." He said reluctantly at the dour expression from the mare. Swearing was not something a colt should do in pleasant company. Or at least that's what he was told by Mrs. Evergarden, his teachers, and damn near everyone he had ever encountered.

It wasn't till he had journeyed into Griffonia that he was spared that overused spiel.

"I've gotten spoiled." He noted wryly.

"Has anypony ever told you, you sound more like a griffon than a pony?" She asked once the unicorn felt he was properly abashed.

"I get that a lot. But I was not born in Equestria, just a resident of Canterlot now." He chuckled. "And even after…" He counted, "Crap!" He carefully muttered. "Nine years…heh." Shaking his head, he gave another apologetic smile. "Even after nine years, I still sound like I am an outsider. Makes school a bit awkward as I don't use pronouns like anypony or everypony."

The gloomy expression was replaced by mild surprise.

"You don't?" Book Heart asked, surprised.

"Nope."

"Are...are you able to elaborate?" She asked, confused at his simple and short answer.

"I would," he began, "but I've explained it away so often it's become tedious. Rest assured. I will have cards made for future situations like this." He grinned.

"Um…alright." It was clear to him that the mare was becoming peevish with his attitude and avoidance of answering her. Thinking quickly, Orion's eyes spied the final set of stairs leading to the bottom of the stone pillar they were in.

"What's down there?"

Frowning, she looked behind her and grunted in annoyance, unless he was mistaken.

"That is where our research on the pillars themselves is being conducted. I am afraid it is off limits."

"Off limits? Dangerous chemicals or something?"

"Not necessarily, no." She shrugged. "I believe it mostly has to do with not wanting tourists to get underhoof."

That made sense. He certainly wouldn't want a bunch of randos poking and prodding at delicate experiments. The thought of that family being unleashed there made him want to chuckle.

"Wait, what's this about the pillars?"

"So, are the pillars unique in some way?" He asked, curiously staring at the curtains that blocked the view to what he assumed was the lowest level.

"Yes, and no." She said tentatively. "It's not widely known, and certainly not my field as I am an archeologist, but the pillars are…well, for lack of a better term, they are growing, and we have yet to understand how and, more importantly, why." Book shrugged uncomfortably. "What I have gathered is that the stone in the pillars is missing key elements found on the ocean floor. That's the unique part. The pillars and the immediate surrounding area of the city itself are all missing those elements. It's like it has been…processed?" She frowned. "Before you ask, they wouldn't tell me anything more than that. But I suppose that's what you get with Sol-backed researchers."

"Sol, what?" He wanted to ask why the ocean floor was specifically spoken about. They were on land, not in the ocean. However, the mention of Sol derailed him.

"Oh, sorry. I meant that the researchers below are from the Church of Sol." She shrugged, and his frown deepened. "Other than their zeal for the Church and their Sun, they are good ponies. Keep to themselves a bit too much if you ask me. But I have no complaints."

"Jesus Christ. These assholes are everywhere."

It was uncomfortable to know that the folks who attempted to shove him into a detention facility years ago not only manned a museum in a completely different country but were also heading the research here with impunity.

Even in Canterlot, though strangely hidden away from the public, members operated in official positions of authority throughout the city.

It creeped him out that their influence reached even this far. It was time to go.

"Well," he coughed, "I think this is about all the heat I can stand. Thank you, Miss Heart, for a lovely tour." He gave a short bow and received a modest nod in return. Making his way up the stairs, he decided it was time to visit the water for a swim. He had more than enough boiling in his own flesh.

"I wonder what they got available for swimwear here…wait a minute."

He turned to look back at Book Heart with surprise and envy. Unlike him, the blonde-maned mare was completely dry, and she wore what looked like a priest's habit to boot too.

"How in the hell did she do that?"

He wanted to ask, but after just abruptly leaving, he figured it would be rude to come back and further badger her with questions. Shrugging, Orion noted he would have to see if there was a spell he could learn that she might have used to quell the unnatural heat that seemed to infest the place.

Turning once more, he raced up the steps. The ocean called to him.

The shadowed tops of trees whisked by at a steady but swift pace. Obscuring the mountain's stoney ground from view. Not that he could see anything this late in the evening.

He felt a light strike at the same time the sound of metal being struck on his left hoof reached him, and he grimaced. Apparently, the griffon who carried him was bored. He could not be certain, as it could have been anything, but Shining suspected he was being dipped just low enough for a branch or two to hit his dangling limbs.

This was harmless as far as personal amusement went, but he did not like their position being jeopardized like that. Adjusting his weight, he shot a glare up at his carrier, re-cinching the buckles on his legs and cannons just in case.

Vorder looked down, his grin almost being lost in the darkness save for the sliver of moonlight that highlighted it with the clearing of cloud cover earlier in the evening.

Beating his wings harder, the drake rose a bit more, and the squadron continued its journey around the mountain.

"My squad…" Shining thought that odd, as the number under his command had grown larger than he had anticipated. And far more varied than he ever desired.

To his left and right, Second Lieutenant Spitfire and Private Storming Wing flew in parallel to him and his bearer. Just outside of them, Specialist Pestle Break was born by a slim hen known only as Dara, and Sergeant Earnest Hearts was being carried by two others who had grumbled and complained about the detail and wisely avoided giving their names.

Despite her size, Earnest was easily the heaviest of his original team due in large part to the heavy armor she insisted she wore. He could see her now, glaring hatefully at everything she looked at, which was often enough the two that struggled to carry her.

Like most Earth Ponies, the mare hated heights and believed any good pony could and should rely on their hooves.

Behind them, silently beating their wings, was one hundred griffons in night black armor, with Val Shadow-wing leading them. His eyes constantly shifted about for anything that should not be.

All at his command, all answering to him. This included Prince Gerhard's personal friend.

A very strange turn of events.

"Why…give the command to me? I'm an outsider, not to mention a pony." Shining had been caught off guard by the request. "S-shouldn't Vorder be the one to issue orders?" He asked, curious and a little off-put to have so much authority and responsibility suddenly thrusted upon him.

"Ah, three reasons." Gerhard raised a single clawed digit. "First, Vorder hates leading anything but a charge, and even then, he half-asses more than he should." A second finger followed the first. "Secondly, this maneuver largely depends on you and your team. Without the freedom of command, you would be stuck with delayed orders because they have to go through Vorder or Val. I do not need hesitancy or stalling in the middle of such a critical assignment." The Prince chuckled richly, raising his last finger. "And lastly, I have heard of you on more than one occasion, selflessly putting your life on the line for others, not of your kind. I'll be honest," he clapped a hand on the stallion's shoulder, "you have inspired me to be better."

Shining blinked slowly, then frowned at the Prince. "Bullshit." He said, nonplussed.

"I'm actually being serious." Gerhard's hand sprung away like it had been burned. His face pulled into his own frown. "I started hearing of your exploits through…let's just say I have my sources and leave it at that." Shaking his head, he continued with a rueful smile. "Anyway, I got detailed information on your campaign in Zebrica, and the way you conducted yourself…to read how you regarded others helped shape me into the griffon I am before you."

Like a colt playing it up for his heroes, the young Prince struck a pose, fists on hips and his stance wide.

"Translation:" called out Vorder, who had been sitting in a chair, leaning back and chugging a mug of whatever liquid was their alcohol, "he's now a goody two-paw that sticks his beak into every conceivable problem he thinks he can solve." He grinned, wiping his mouth. "Included this barrel of rotted fish guts."

"Thank you, once again, Vorder, for summing up my intentions so vulgarly." The young king-to-be groused.

"Anytime, my friend, someone has to keep your ego from expanding too much. No need to compete with the ponies on things full of hot air and all that." Waving his mug at them, he continued. "But Ger is right. I ain't fit to lead a rowboat, let alone this attack. Just leave it to me and the boys to get ya there. After that, we will be the hammer to the Prince's anvil. Know what I'm sayin'?"

"Reporting in." Said a voice low, yet somehow managing to fight the rush of wind with ease to reach his ears and break him from his reverie. "Three small groups of lookouts in front of us. Towers were hastily built at each location. Two thousand paces ahead. Orders?"

Shining had anticipated this and did not hesitate to use the griffon's quieter flight profiles to achieve it.

"Execute and secure. Hauptleute Shadow-wing, take three Flights. Leave no survivors and bury the bodies. Do not waste time. It doesn't need to be fancy." His stomach roiled at issuing such a command, but there was little in the way of options. Soon enough, more would join the body count.

With orders received, Val nodded, and three groups of four broke off and soared ahead quickly. The scout resumed overwatch and pushed on ahead. The main force with him deliberately continued intentionally at their slow but steady pace for this reason alone. True, Spitfire and Storming could have easily gotten to the objective faster, but their wings were, unfortunately, noisier when cutting through the air than the griffons' own. A fact that irked the Second Lieutenant more than it should.

"Think that Ger has already launched his assault?" Vorder asked as they slowly approached their own mission start. If he was nervous, his voice didn't betray it. If anything, he sounded…eager.

The white stallion eyed the crescent moon, only the horn and muzzle of the Mare in the Moon showing as he gauged the time. The sporadic overhead clouds made it difficult to determine the exact time, so he guessed.

"Not yet, no. About a half-hour more. We have time to get into position." He said, and the big griffon carrying grunted in satisfaction.

Vorder's plan was simple. With the cover of darkness, his squadron of bloodthirsty griffons and not-so-excited ponies would cut a circuit around the mountain in which an old fortress the strangely well-organized bandits had taken to was perched on a short cliff.

In ancient times, it had been meant as a bulwark from ponies coming from the north.

To anypony else, that would have been seen as very strange. He would have agreed as well, except Cadence had told him, on a night in which their limbs were tangled together as much as the sheets were, a tale about a lost kingdom. That there was once a nation of crystal equines that had lived to the north of Griffonia.

The nation had existed so long ago that, other than her, only history-obsessive researchers knew anything of its history or location. It turned out. However, many griffons among Gerhard's troops also knew of the ancient danger as well, even if its name and nature were lost to the march of time. However, to them, it was more a campfire tale than any actual historical record.

Most believed the castle had been built by an insane noble griffon who loved his isolation so much he died with it. Nestless, and alone.

In any case, while they circumvented the mountain, the Prince's troops moved into position to the south. With the recent battle being somewhat harrowing for the young noble and his followers, the bandits could not conceive so swift a retaliation, nor did they believe their location had been yet discovered.

Those troops under him weren't bothering too much to be quiet about it either. That was also part of the plan.

Though Shining had been cautious to warn them about being too obvious in their approach, rather than screaming and yelling, they should appear to be making their way up slowly, carrying siege equipment in pieces in open view for anypony who looked hard enough.

If all went according to the strategy, Gerhard's forces would assault the southern gate and the walls themselves just after being discovered. Neither gate nor walls had seen much in the way of maintenance after several centuries of abandonment.

A brief recon had shown that the delinquent squatters had not really done much more than ensure the gate portcullis was in mostly working order. The goal there was to deliver as much punishment to the structure as possible and keep the enemy pinned in with capture nets to keep them from returning the favor when the inevitable counterattack came.

Just enough danger to draw eyes away from the north, Shining and his squadron's approach.

The moment of truth would be once they passed the north face of the mountain, watch groups dotting the surface in wooden towers in lonely isolation from one another. The mercenaries were confident that nopony could, or would, launch an assault from the north without being spotted quickly, so little care was taken in installing more outposts than the bare minimum.

As his hooves passed over one of the watchtowers, he could see what they could not. That their carelessness would be a mistake.

Val Shadow-wing's soldiers had made quick and nasty work of the occupying forces that had been stationed there. He couldn't make out much in the darkness, but he could easily spot griffons pulling their dead cousins into hastily dug graves, broken bushes, and tree limbs being placed over them hurriedly.

Those shallow graves were not meant to do much more than obscure what had happened, and only for so long. Just enough to buy time for them to move past before one of the wandering patrols came upon the seemingly abandoned towers and started searching for their comrades' whereabouts.

He checked the moon again.

"Ten minutes." He breathed, and his bearer chuckled darkly.

"Ah, party time. Mind if I get a little nip before we begin?" He was beginning to think the big drake had a drinking problem.

By the time they landed on the ridge that overlooked the keep, Shining could tell his estimate was off by a fair margin. They could hear the steady crash of debris being thrown into the fortress long before they arrived.

The shouts of battle were already thick in the air.

The stallion could see the catapults whirling about to hurl their deadly payload into the air with far more speed than precision.

That was not ideal, but it was something they had expected may happen, as they had planned for the bandits to get potentially a little antsy and rush them early. In either scenario, the evidence below showed things were going according to plan, for the most part.

"Ten minutes, eh?" Chortled Vorder, lowering a flask from his beak and inhaling satisfactorily. The pony snorted in exasperation.

"They must have had to move quickly to pin them in." He muttered in response. "Somepony must have spotted them too early. But this works in either case. The Prince isn't pushing nearly as hard as he is making it seem." The white stallion noted, pointing to a few siege weapons that had yet to be put together. "Rather clever of him to make it look like they are having trouble with some of the equipment."

"Or that's real trouble." The hulking griffon remarked dryly, once again being a rain cloud of pessimism. Or as he liked to call it: “Ego checking”.

"Doesn't matter." Shining rebutted, shaking his head as he took one last look at the positions of the enemy. "Prepare your people. If they have never experienced mass teleportation before, it's likely going to be terrible for them for their first time."

Before the mission began, he had gathered the entire squadron together to inform them of what they were going to experience. Nausea, dizziness. Perhaps even dryness of the mouth should one of them have their mouth open in transit.

As it was, only fifty would be participating in the mass transition of one space for another.

Any more than that, and both Pestle and himself would be out of commission for much of the fight. That would not be ideal, as some very disturbing revelations had come to light during the planning stage for this strike.

Ponies of unknown purpose were amongst the upper echelons of the raiders' ranks. That bothered him greatly.

What was their goal? Why assist a renegade faction against the rightful ruler of this nation?

According to Gerhard's scouts, they were truly doing very little in regard to assistance as it was. Instead of participating in any clash, they provided logistical support and a means for their leaders to escape should it be needed.

Apparently, that last was needed quite a lot as reports for Gerhard's staff showed that the number of times a flash of multi-hued light was in the double digits now, always at the tail end of the battle.

Once prisoners knew that the Prince and his officers were more than aware of the rogue force of ponies' involvement in their guerilla campaign, they all but stumbled over themselves to speak on what they had seen and heard. Hoping for leniency for their crimes.

Most of what they spoke on was hearsay and their own half-formed ideas of their purpose here in Griffonian lands. However, what was known is that the leadership among the equines was severely upset with the lack of progress from their griffonian counterparts. There was constant friction between the two groups, made worse in that they were forced to cooperate with one another by a third unknown party.

What could be gathered was that the original goal was simply to drive a wedge between Bloodbeak and the rest of the ruling class. A ruler that could not even defend their nation's lands from internal strife was, for all intents and purposes, weak and unable to fulfill other obligations to their people or the ruling elite that governed them.

Gerhard supposed that a weak Griffonia would not be seen as a threat, and that might explain the ponies' presence itself.

Shining was not so sure and had a far deeper worry eating at him.

These mercenaries could indicate a larger problem, one his superiors had dismissed during his debriefs in his early days of service.

According to later captives, there was a shift in their priorities. Somepony had issued an assassination order once it was learned that Gerhard Bloodbeak had committed himself to the defense of these outlying lands.

The demands of which were becoming increasingly violent as the weeks of failed attempts continued.

From what Vorder had said, much to the Prince's chagrin, a few of those plots had nearly succeeded.

The closest, a pair of twin griffon sisters hiding among the camp followers, had slipped into his tent. Things might have gone very differently if the hulking griffon had not wandered in to share an evening drink with the young lord.

Gerhard would not allow his friend to speak on what had transpired inside, though snickering from the other officers in the command tent and the flickering of his ears indicated it was not a widely kept secret and embarrassing to boot.

Shining could infer, however, and the grin he shot toward the young noble griffon only served to heighten his temporary employer's further embarrassment.

Among the twins' possessions were a number of poisons, knives, and even an extraction tool of some sort. Both sisters were killed before they could learn of the device's purpose.

"I have to say, for a bunch of hardened warriors, they certainly had an excess of crystals on them," Pestle said with a grin.

The white stallion nodded as he helped direct the placement of powdered crystals in their sacks.

A bit of fortune fell into their lap when he expressed concern for the number of soldiers Gerhard and Vorder wanted them to transport.

In truth, his ability with teleportation was limited, incapable of taking more than one despite the magical force at his disposal, and only so far. It was a point of embarrassment for the stallion, more so that his little sister not only mastered it but figured it out for herself. While he could only cover perhaps half a city block at best, she could zip from one side of Canterlot to another.

Worse, she had pinpoint accuracy and was capable of placing individuals in the exact locations she desired.

The good news was command thought ahead and provided a pony whose skill far outstripped his own. While not as strong as himself, Pestle Break possessed the ability to teleport in spades. With them linked, he could provide all the needed strength, and she, the control. Yet that was not enough.

No pony could make a field large enough to encompass twenty or more. It took too much power, more than even he could supply.

But, there was a workaround.

Crystals, crushed and charged with the mana of a pony, could extend that field. It was a little old knowledge that was still viable today, as Starswirl the Bearded had been the one to find a way around the problem long ago. That ancient stallion of lore and mystery had supposedly spent years with trial and error.

It was yet another reminder of the pony's genius that so many tricks and processes lasted to this day.

However, if the rumor had it correct, this particular spell was discovered during an accident involving his apprentice that gave him the idea rather than years of failure. Something about seeing if lines of charged powdered crystals had an effect on the pony's body.

The final obstacle was quantity, and that was where Gerhard and his rather resourceful soldiers came into play.

"Uh, we tactically acquired it, sir." A Stabsgefreiter, or a Specialist by the name of Cardinal Wing, said after they had been provided an obscene amount of crystals by the common rank and file of the Prince's force.

The young enlisted had been chosen to represent the collection and were dodging questions as to how and, perhaps more importantly, why they had so many on hand.

"T-tactically acquired it?" Shining more mouthed the words than actually said them, but the Specialist responded anyway.

"Yes, sir."

Before he could push the interrogation further, Pestle interrupted, giggling.

"Lieutenant, I…hehe…I wouldn't ask any further. That way lies madness and a path of dead ends. Thank you, Stabsgefreiter Wing."

The griffon bowed, grinned and winked at her, and left.

Shining Armor had never been more confused.

He never did get an answer out of her of what she had meant. But now, as she was doing the final check on the lines, he thought it better to heed her advice and not badger her about it.

He traces the lines with his eyes, sometimes being interrupted by the occasional griffon walking by in hurried steps.

They were good.

Six points leading from the center to an outer ring more than wide enough to accommodate all that was going with them into the dead center of the enemy fortress itself. The waning moonlight caused the crystal powder to shimmer slightly in the darkness.

At their vantage, there was no chance the enemy could see even a sparkle.

He sighed in relief as he felt the pulse of his own magic emanate from them. Power retention had been a worry, but the strength there meant they would not have to be concerned about it.

Before they had even left camp, both Shining and Pestle had focused their mana for three days on the crushed gems, a tedious but necessary step in preparing for such a large teleportation of troops and equipment.

His teacher, back when he was a student of Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, had informed him and his class that when using crystals in their spell casting, one must attune to them with their own magical resonance and take note of how long a charge can last.

It was with this knowledge in mind whenever the command was planning raids or even a full campaign, battle-class mages would spend hours inside a tent conducting the rituals while under guard from outside influence.

Those mages never entered any conflict, as they were the only ones capable of making use of the charged crystal powders themselves.

For the scale in which they were going to cast, they really only needed one day. However, Pestle thought it best not to exhaust themselves, and he agreed. With only two of them there, they couldn't afford to be too taxed in magical force, as it often had a physical drain as well.

Keeping them in fighting condition for later was a prudent plan considering the limited number of unicorns they had on hand.

"Alright, everypony into the cen-"

"We ain't ponies, chief." Called out one of the group. Getting some quiet raucous laughter from those waiting in the second phase.

"Right." Shining Armor blushed and scowled at the griffon, hoping none saw him out of countenance in the darkness. "Everyone." He amended. "Please get into the center, and do not disrupt the lines. Otherwise, no p- No one. Is going anywhere."

Knowing shadowed smiles and shaking heads greeted his consternation. Still, he shook it off and focused his mind, the horn on his head coming to life in a dull, subdued haze of blue, a technique almost exclusively taught to members of the military designed to hide their location on the battlefield and on covert missions such as this.

Pestle paused as she got to the center and turned to him. Nervousness was clear in her eyes.

"What's the problem, Specialist?" He asked, impatient yet curious to know why the sudden hesitation was halting the plan.

"Sir. I…thi-" she paused, licked her lips, and tried again. "Sir, this is my first engagement."

He wanted to smack himself. Of course, he had forgotten that of his soldiers he was about to lead on the field of battle, only Earnest Hearts had any real combat experience, serving a tour in Zegypt a year ago herself. Even Spitfire had never done much more than patrol the skies in the homeland.

"Shit." He had forgotten that he did not have a well-seasoned team under him.

"I'm afraid I had forgotten that." He said, not bothering to keep the chagrin from his voice. "You all had performed so well in the ambush at our campsite that I had not truly realized you were out of your depth here. Pestle, will you be able to perform your duties?"

"I…I believe so, sir." She did not sound confident. He frowned and carefully waded through the crowd of soldiers to her, avoiding the lines of crushed gemstone.

"Pestle Break." He said solemnly. "This is a Tartarus of a time to tell me you're getting cold hooves."

"Sorry, sir." The mare winced. "In truth, with all the preparation and rush, I didn't really think about it till now."

"You got caught up in the moment. I get it." Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down and fixed her gaze with his own. "We are a team, soldier. That means I am watching your back as well as you're watching my own. Do not forget you have both Storming and Spitfire on overwatch for us. And Earnest is going to bring the fight to the enemy right next to you. You are a unit. You've trained for this, studied for this." He grinned. "Besides, who would expect what amounts to a cannon being dropped in the middle of their forces?" His smirk was mirrored with her own, though it trembled.

It was a bold plan. One, that should it work as well as Vorder claimed, might enter the standard curriculum for specialized insertions such as this in the future.

Lessons from the griffons would be hard for the command to swallow, but this might prove too good to ignore.

She nodded, slow at first. Then her head bobbed quickly. "Yes, sir. I am ready to begin."

"Good." Turning, he made his way back toward the edge of the circle. "Alright, you buckheads," Shining said with venom. He got a few raised eyebrows and smirks to go with them. "First timers of teleportation are prone to dizziness and nausea-"

"That's why you told us not to eat anything, right, Lieutenant?" Whispered one of the griffons to his left.

"Yes, and clamp that beak, soldier, or I will do it for you." That got a couple of wide eyes and unsure shuffling of armored paws. Until now, he had been rather easygoing with many of them. But, with the coming of battle, he needed them serious, and if they were unsure of him now, it would mean their guard would remain up for the fight ahead.

"Keep your mouth shut, and breathe through your nose." They had gone over this ad nauseam already, but with the enlisted, it never hurt to remind them again. "Are we ready?"

As his eyes swept across the assembled griffonian soldiers, grim determination met his gaze.

"Pestle Break, you may begin when ready."

"FUCKIN' TARTARUS!" Olga shrieked as she dodged yet another boulder of rough-hewn stone as it crashed just a pace away from her position behind a dilapidated storehouse built into the northern side of the ancient castle.

The impact crushed the supporting wall and new, hastily thrown-up timber, spraying it all about in an arc that caused her to throw up her arms in panic.

The hen dove for cover behind a stack of crates to avoid the worst of the shrapnel. Her brow already bore the cut of a previous attempt by the falling rocks to end her.

Tonight had not been a good night for the gray-brown griffon.

Bored and tired of waiting for her leaders to give her and her fellow bandits' orders and wishing to hide away from any work detail she might be snared into, she had decided to head into the south tower at the behest of Anton. The roguish lithe griffon she had been trying to catch in her net since she met him had finally noticed her.

However, instead of a night alone with the tall and handsome drake, she had been subjected to humiliation at being offered a spot at the card table rather than a secluded bed somewhere.

Turns out, Anton doesn't like hens, or any type of female, for that matter. Half the time, he was too busy with his beak in the neck of a drake she had seen but never gotten to know and now loathed with all the hatred Tartarus held within.

Her mother may be right. She might very well be destined to die alone chasing after tail.

It hurt. Like someone had taken a dull knife and drove it slowly into her chest. Olga had only remained because she did not wish to be seen as weak and emotional. That kind of shit could be preyed upon by others if word got out.

So she stayed, playing hand after hand while watching the display of near eroticism before her and trying not to cry about it.

That agony was replaced by an all-new one roughly an hour later when during a deal, a large boulder crashed right through the tower, crushing Anton, his unnamed lover, and Torgun, the only Paraton in the entire bandit force who had been their dealer for the evening.

The attack sent debris everywhere, including a coin bit, which embedded itself into her forehead just above her eye.

Three others that had managed not to be turned into a paste with her all managed to dive out of the way as the projectile brought down a good portion of the floor above onto them.

Slowly and with a lot of coughing and groaning, the survivors rose from the detritus and dusted themselves off before looking at each other with almost comical shock.

The sounds of battle cries reached their ears, and they collectively peeked out to see a host of armored griffons, siege equipment, and the colors of the Royal Prince of Griffonia prominently displayed amongst them.

"What the fuck?"

Jakob had said it would be weeks before the royal jackass could mount so much as a patrol, let alone an assault force. In fact, it was well known that the Heir to the crown had not even known where they were holed up at.

Or at least not yet.

Clearly, that was never the case, as she watched in mounting horror as another volley of stone was lobbed their way and quickly scrambled out of the tower as two more reduced the structure to complete destruction.

Recovering from her dive behind what was left of the fortress parapet, she witnessed her comrades attempt to take to the air to rain arrows from a high position in the sky, only to be brought down in capture nets. Some of those were on fire as they shrieked in terror as the flaming braided ropes wrapped around them, bringing them to the ground with a sickening crunch.

This battle would be, unfortunately, waged on the ground, it seemed.

Her comrades in coin mustered on the wall, half-dressed and in panic. Manning barely working mounted ballistas and longbows, they returned fire as best they could. The hope was that their own counterassault would slow, or even stop, some of those rugged rocks and flaming nets from reaching them again.

Despite the siege, they still held the advantage in both numbers, and the elevated fortification of the ancient keep afforded them. But now, as she dodged yet another missile that crashed mere paces away, Olga was beginning to not be so confident in what leadership had told her and her fellows. The Prince had clearly thought this through and had planned accordingly.

Yet, something bothered her.

The hen was no tactician, leaving that headache to her betters, but there was a wrongness in the air.

Looking to the sky, she noticed a distinct lack of enemy combatants in the skies above. That was what was wrong, as normal tactics dictated that if you had air supremacy with equipment, you could field troops in the air with little worry of interception from your opponents.

Normally, when she had been forced to attack a fort, they would launch squadrons of flyers to drop flaming torches and snipe at officers to sow chaos amongst the ranks. That was what was expected, even on the battlefield.

However, no one was in the air. Were they afraid of getting their own caught in the nets?

A bright blue and purple flash from behind, and the sounds of multiple people retching, brought her musings short and caused her mouth to run dry with fear. What new terror had the Prince come up with?

Yanking her sword from her sheath, a weapon she was grateful hadn't been lost in her desperate bid to escape being crushed to death, she spun around and gaped.

Before her, was a host of griffons bearing the Royal Crest of the Prince on the breast, two wings in flight wrapped around the sword and heart in a deep red that almost blended into the blackened armor.

Amongst them were ponies. Two of which looked a little winded, horns just barely aglow with whatever they had just done.

"How-" she was caught off guard, and her question as a big griffon stepped forward and thrust a fat blade into her middle so fast she only could only vaguely understand that she had been dealt a killing blow. Only the cold steel of the weapon indicated that something was truly very bad just happened to her.

"Sorry about this, but war and all, you know?" Came his deep baritone voice, not sounding the bit apologetic and hushed in the rack and din of the battle beyond the walls. Twisting his hand, he withdrew the weapon, and her whole world turned to agony as the distant feeling of being pierced came crashing down upon her. Toppling backward, she lost the grip on her blade in favor of attempting to hold her guts inside.

The one who had stabbed her turned away from her as if she no longer existed for him. If not for the fire ripping through her belly, she might have been insulted.

"Alright, you gaggle of feather dusters!" His utterances rang in her ears like a gong. It seemed to her that infiltration was no longer the name of the game for this group. "You all know your assignments. Get to it! SHINING! Are you two ready to…"

His voice became strangely muted. In fact, all noise faded out as she lay there in the blood and dirt of the ancient cobblestone street. Her life slowly leaking past her claws.

Sluggishly, her eyes turned skyward to the stars. Tears stained the edges of her eyes and cascaded down her face.

"Momma was…right…"

"What in the bloody Tartarus is going on!?" Emil Swordbeak shouted as another crash of boulder against ancient stone shook the foundations of the keep.

The long-beaked griffon stalked through the halls, keeping a clawed hand dragging against the stone wall in case of another strike against the outer exterior. He would not be knocked on his ass again.

In truth, he knew exactly what was going on. The Prince, the very target of their time here, was currently doing something they never thought he would be able to do, especially after that last fight that left both sides heavily wounded.

How did the brat have that quick a turnaround?

Had he feigned greater injury than before?

Did his father send reinforcements, and no word arrived from their own source in the capital to warn them?

Could he have been actually thinking tactfully from the very beginning and hid his true numbers in some way?

Questions that would be for later, should he survive the night. Right now, what was truly important was to get to Them.

It was a strange partnership he and his fellows had developed with the Sundown Syndicate, though not by choice. A group of unicorn mercenaries he had been advised to retain by his own benefactor. It was more or less forced upon him to take them on, and Rosebreast would not take no for an answer.

The bitch never took no for an answer.

She shared in their disgust for not just working with outlanders, and ponies of any breed, though many of his troops came from all across the world themselves. Yet, she had to point out the usefulness of having someone capable of getting the upper echelons of command out of trouble should the need arise.

Sadly, that need seemed to be again today. He hated when her caution was proven warranted. It meant he couldn't balk later when she suggested something even more erroneous later.

"Blind fucking luck is what it is."

Taking the spiraling staircase that ascended to a short bastion two at a time, he arrived before a thick iron door that seemed brand new.

It might as well have been. Since the unicorns had taken residence in this section of the keep, it and its surroundings have taken on new life.

The stone was no longer pitted and crumbling but looked like they had been freshly cut and brought in just yesterday for placing. The same went for the wood supports and scones set high on the wall. Splinters and rust were simply gone.

More infuriating than the fact it was known they used magic to do it, no one had seen a thing happen till a guard reported it in on their morning patrol the very next day.

"Sneaky fucking hornheads!"

Emil had tried bargaining, even willing to pay a pretty hefty price if they would do so for the rest of the castle. The idea of having a permanent fortress of his own was just too appealing. And the vague dreams of carving out a territory himself drove him to ask.

That, of course, was met with derisive laughter and a "no".

He growled as his fist pounded on the door with renewed anger at being reminded that despite everything, very little in the way of "help" came from them.

"What do you want?!" Came a mare's voice from beyond the layer of metal between them. Even muffled as it was, he knew the voice of Terra Burn. The silver-furred pony with a red mane had often ridiculed his leadership in front of his subordinates with gleeful abandon.

Just his luck.

Emil Swordbeak glowered at the iron door, despite knowing she likely could not see.

"Terra Burn, the keep is under attack. I would think even you hornheads would have figured that out by now!" He shouted, anger boiling over for the moment.

A dark chuckle greeted him. "We are aware." That was far too calm a reply, and his heated blood quickly chilled.

Hesitantly, he began his pitch, fear worming inside his belly. "S-so I trust that the only reason you've decided not to assist in our mutual defense…is because you are making ready to teleport the entirety of our command from here should it be needed to actually come to it?" Emil hated that his voice sounded less commanding than it did.

The issue was that the bulwark of the ancient fortress would not hold for long against the onslaught of the Prince's siege. He knew that, and those with more sense than the common rabble amongst his soldiers knew that.

With capture nets occasionally being tossed up to snare any sorties he wanted to try sending out to disrupt the attack, he was left with very little to counter back with. Thus it was with hope and a hefty amount of the gold bits from his personal chest that he had paid these horned rats that he might at least procure a way out for himself and his closest commanders.

He could always find more bandits to snare with promises of riches and plunder. But he could not replace himself so easily.

"Oh yes, we most certainly are." His hopes rose. "However, not for you." Came the laughing voice of the mare bitch.

"How are you feeling, Pestle?" Shining asked as he steadied the soldier with a hand, his other already wielding his blade as his eyes swept for danger.

"Dizzy, sir. But that's not unexpected. I will need-" she was interrupted by a shout from Vorder.

The griffon was coming toward them, looking no worse for wear. Behind him, on the ground, he could see a hen weeping and clutching at her middle. Her eyes seemed to scream "why" when they landed on his own. He shut himself off from the emotions that welled within him. It was a difficult thing for him. This was always the hardest part of the job, ignoring the sufferings of your enemy.

"You all know your assignments. Get to it! SHINING! Are you two ready to do…uh, whatever the fuck you said you could do?!" The big drake bore a pained grimace on his face. That emotion was likely not due to the slowly dying griffon behind him but from his lack of understanding of the next step.

During the brief, they discussed what they had planned to do once inside the keep. If it was true, and the enemy had ponies working with them, then Shining and Pestle Break would disrupt any chance of escape by sending a ripple along the ley lines in the area. It was temporary, likely only lasting a couple of hours at best, as that was all they could afford. However, it would disrupt any major spells from being performed. Spells such as mass teleportation.

The downside was that they, too, would be limited in the same fashion. Even simple castings would need more effort. But Shining wanted to capture these ponies. Needed to capture these ponies.

Part of that need was the fact that this had happened before. In Zebrica. Rumors and whispers of rumors of unicorns assisting the enemy in some fashion. Despite his reports of these allegations, command wrote them off as hearsay and would not investigate further. The white stallion was determined to prove his suspicions true, that a malevolent organization of ponies was out in the world working against the interests of Equestria itself.

He would have his answers. He would!

"Yes, Vorder, we are ready. Pestle? Is the spell in place?" Turning his gaze from the stricken hen on the ground, he looked to the mare whose horn was already shining.

"Yes, sir. Just needs the power to supply it." She frowned. "I think we need to hurry. I'm detecting wave patterns in the ley lines already."

"Shit. They must have begun the moment Gerhard attacked." Shining growled. "Vorder! Be ready to hit the walls! Will handle the rest!"

"ALLLL RIGHT!" Shouted the big griffon, grinning in that weird way only their beaks could do. "COME ON BOYS! LETS GO HAVE US SOME FUN!"

Gesturing, he took the air as squads, with predetermined roles already given, broke off and away toward the southern bulwark. Those that remained behind with the ponies readied their weapons and spread out.

This night was about to get long.