The Palace of Hjortland had been the seat of House Jelzek for as long as anydeer could remember. But nowadays, though there was a king on the throne, all power rested in the hooves of the Allsherjargoði, the head of the Goðar, ever since said Allsherjargoði had exiled King Johan from the nation.
Jurva had made many choices in the past years, but in the past months he’d made especially few he regretted. Johan had been a weak being, barely worthy of being called a stag, and for the good of the nation an intervention had been necessary.
Now the Church was in control of Olenia, as it should be. King Matthias obeyed whatever Jurva told him without question or complaint, and the churches were swelling with new followers.
But, alas, not all was right yet. The corrupt nobles and industrialists that had supported Johan’s grasp for power were still alive and kicking, although unable to act directly against Jurva.
But there was a more pressing threat, and more deadly too. The Changelings.
To the north of the Great Mountains lay the forests and marshes of the Changeling Lands. For practically all of recorded history, the Changelings had been divided into countless Hives, constantly fighting with each other. Occasional raids on Olenian border settlements would occur, but the Deer there were more than capable of defending themselves from such attacks, and they were almost always followed by Vikingur incursions into the Changeling Lands, to exact vengeance.
But now, the Changelings were united, and they had a clear goal: conquest. Jurva had seen it in his visions, as had many of his fellow Seers. A great tide of guns and steel, sweeping down the mountains and along the coast, drowning all of Olenia and then turning to Equestria.
Frankly, Jurva was of the opinion that if the bugs wanted to fight the ponies, they should do just that. It would teach those pretentious princesses of theirs a lesson.
But the visions didn’t lie: before Equestria would be Olenia. And that, Jurva couldn’t allow.
He looked back at his desk, at the letter he’d drafted.
My fellow Deer,
I hereby summon you to a meeting of the highest importance in the Palace of Hjortland. The meeting shall be held two weeks from this day, the 4th of Flower Moon. Secrecy must be maintained; tell no one you are headed here. It is a matter of national security and anyone who breaks this secrecy will be punished most harshly.
More will be revealed in due time,
Signed,
Jerma Jurva
By will of the Gods, Allsherjargoði of the Olenian Church
He sent a quick prayer to Ukko that the letters would arrive safely, then called his secretary and instructed her to make copies of the letter and send said copies off.
And now, the waiting began.
The roar of engines mixed in with the sound of burning… everything, and gunfire.
Hjortland burned. Does and fawns were running through the streets, and though it was drowned out by the other sounds most of the time, screams would occasionally be audible.
One of the houses collapsed, its walls consumed by flames, as the house next to it abruptly exploded, hit by a bomb from one of the planes.
A wall broke down, and a squad of soldiers moved out through it, indiscriminately gunning down whoever they saw.
A few stags came rushing down the street, clearly running from something. The enemy soldiers turned to face them. One of the stags managed to jump out of the line of fire, but was gunned down before he could return fire anyway.
The scene blurred, then changed.
A snowy road in the middle of a forest. On the road, a column of trucks and tanks, single-file.
Out of the forest, a small light was thrown. It hit the frontmost tank, which proceeded to be covered in flames. As shouts of alarm sounded from the column, unknown people started shooting at it from the forest. More lights flew overhead as well, setting alight tanks, trucks and soldiers alike. The tanks were taken out first by the attackers, followed by the trucks. After a few minutes of intense fighting, the guns fell silent as the last of the defenders was finished off with a shot to the head.
Again, the world blurred.
Planes soared through clear skies, flying over snow-covered plains. In the distance, a river was visible, and next to that river was a village.
There were three planes; two smaller ones and one larger. They flew side-by-side, with the larger plane in the middle, flanked on either side.
As they came closer to the village, a new noise could be heard. Two new planes, of a different model and roughly the same size as the two smaller ones, approached the aircraft with the sun in their backs. They were clearly slower than the trio, and yet it was them who opened fire first.
The two escorts diverted from the larger plane and headed for the newcomers, while the larger vehicle continued its course towards the village.
The four planes met each other in combat, both sides trying to get behind the other so they could line up a proper shot.
The aerial battle lasted the better part of five minutes, ending with three of the four planes shot down. The final plane, one of the attackers, limped on, though its right wing was smoking.
The larger plane had almost reached its destination. In the village below, Deer were running away, save for several brave stags and does who had grabbed rifles and opened fire from below. Without any effect, of course.
Then the last surviving attacker rammed the larger plane, just as it was arriving above the village. The two exploded spectacularly, temporarily blinding anyone who was looking at the two planes on the ground.
With a shout, Jurva awoke.
He almost jumped out of the bed, before realising where he was: his bedroom, devoid of light and silent except for his panting breaths.
Ukko’s grace, what was that?
A dream-vision? He hadn’t ever had one of those. The spirits knew better than to disturb him at night.
Jurva threw off the covers and slipped onto the floor. He was sweating something fierce, and his mind was running a million miles an hour.
Right, focus.
It was imperative that he write down as much of this vision as he could remember. One of the first lessons taught to Seers that continued to apply to this day, even to one as skilled and wise as himself.
He flicked on the light on his desk, then grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began to write.
Right, so there were three visions. The first one was definitely in Hjortland, and definitely set during a battle. Were those enemy soldiers ponies, or changelings? I couldn’t tell. Damn it all Jerma, focus! It doesn’t matter who they were, they were enemies and given that they were in Hjortland, they had clearly defeated our army on the battlefield.
Second vision then. A convoy getting ambushed in the forest; probably the enemy. Fucking Hel, still didn’t see shit on our enemy. But we won, that’s good at least. Though given how the first vision went, I don’t think it mattered.
Okay, third vision. Aeroplanes. Right, I know fucking nothing about these, but I recognise the symbol on the side of our planes at least. And of course, I don’t get to have a proper fucking look at the fucking enemy planes because fuck me and the need for information I have.
Deep breaths Jerma, deep breaths. Rage will not achieve anything, you know this.
Even if it is a fucking great thing to do.
Fuck- stay focused. Third vision, aeroplanes, village, bombers. Somewhere in Olenia; Cervus Dale, perhaps? Or the Golden Coast. But then that would mean most of Olenia has already fallen, if bombers are reaching that far…
Gods above, this is horrifying.
Am I forgetting anything? No, that’s all I think. Thank the stars for small mercies.
Jurva exhaled, then looked over what he’d written down. Good, all the important details were there. He grabbed the paper and put it in one of the desk’s drawers, before turning the light off and returning to his bed.
He slept like a rose for the rest of the night.
Two weeks had passed, and now Jurva was seated at the head of a grand table in a large, ostentatious room known as the War Hall. He’d used it before, in the initial days after the Holy Coup, before they’d drifted over to using a more public and open setting for government meetings.
But considering the subject, it was only sensible to use the War Hall. Plus, the chair Jurva was sitting in was very intimidating and comfortable. Now he just had to wait.
One by one, the invited people filed into the room. Generals, industrialists and seers all had been invited, and all had arrived on time and without complaint. Incredible.
Right, time to begin the meeting.
Jurva cleared his throat. ‘’My sirs and ladies, thank you all for coming to this meeting of great importance. Now, I am sure you are all curious as to why you have been invited here. Allow me to explain.
In recent years, the Changelings to our north have rapidly expanded from mere annoyance striking at our borders to a serious threat that, although defeated by Equestria, has since recovered and now stands to be a greater power than ourselves.
Our nation, meanwhile, has lagged behind. Our industry is out of date, as is our army. The Changelings outnumber us, and our army could at best mount a defence of a small area. Even our technology is outpaced by theirs. At this moment, they could cross the border and invade, and we would be, to be candid, powerless to stop them.
This is a situation that has to change. We cannot afford to be weak, especially not when Queen Chrysalis has proven to be a violent and aggressive expansionist that seeks nothing more than dominance over all she can survey. A storm is coming, and we must be prepared for it.
So, I have called you here. In this room are some of, if not all of, the most important stags and does in all Olenia. Now, I command you, on behalf of all the Deer in Olenia: find a solution. Thank you.’’
Jurva took a breath, then sat down in his chair again. That’s that.
The room was silent for a moment, as those assembled shared looks.
‘’My lord Allsherjargoði,’’ one of them began, ‘’I understand your concerns, and share them. We of Lokia would be open to any suggestions from others, but I would also like to put something forward myself; currently, there are many areas in Olenia sitting empty for no good reason. Lokia, and I assume other companies as well, would like to use these areas to construct new factories, so that we may ramp up production. Of course, these factories could be turned over to the production of war materials if need be.’’
‘’Preposterous!’’ One of the Seers immediately challenged the executive. ‘’Nature is what allows us to connect with the spirits! Already they are displeased at your defilement of the land. We cannot tolerate further incursions, or we risk the spirits turning against us!’’
‘’With all due respect, Lord Seer,’’ one of the generals jumped in, ‘’Mr Jobbari has a point. Most of my stags and does are forced to shout ‘bang’ when training with their rifles, because of a lack of bullets. I cannot communicate with my underofficers in the field due to a lack of radios. We cannot fight a war without weapons.’’
‘’That may be so, General,’’ the Seer agreed, ‘’but we cannot fight a war without the spirits either. They provide us crucial insight into the enemy’s movements, to say nothing of how they can influence the terrain to benefit us and hinder our foes.’’
‘’Foes we can’t fight if we have no guns!’’
‘’Lokia is prepared to work with Seers to ensure the spirits are not troubled,’’ the executive put forth.
The Seer spat at him. ‘’I won’t sully my good name by doing any such thing!’’
‘’What use is a name when the fucking bugs are pressing their hooves into your face as they suck you empty?’’
‘’I would almost say you want for them to win!’’
‘’How dare you!’’
‘’Take that back!’’
‘’Make me!’’
‘’ENOUGH!’’ Jurva roared. ‘’Senseless bickering will get us nowhere.’’ He swept his gaze across the table in a deadly glare. ‘’Now, we will discuss like civilised Deer. Is that clear?’’
‘’Yes, Allsherjargoði,’’ a variety of voices said at roughly the same time.
‘’Good, now-’’
Everything was aflame.
‘’We’re taking on water!’’
‘’Fire in the engine room! Fire in the engine room!’’
‘’Form a line! For Ukko’s sake form a line!”’
‘’Stag overboard! Stag overboard!’’
‘’It’s approaching the munitions!’’
‘’FORM A FUCKING LINE!’’
‘’Every stag for himself!’’
‘’Get back here! You, grab him!’’
‘’The fire!’’
‘’FORM-’’
Whatever the doe wanted to say was cut off as the fire, presumably, reached the munitions and set them aflame. The world turned orange as the ship exploded.
Everything went dark, and then snow was falling on solid ground. Once again there were flames, but this time they were lesser in scale.
Deer were spread out on a field, between debris, the burned-out husks of cars, trucks and tanks, and ruined artillery guns. The town they were in was alight, though the fire had not yet spread too far. No one appeared to be fighting it however, so it - most likely - wouldn’t take long before it spiralled out of control.
Most of the Deer were wearing white uniforms that marked them as soldiers of the Kungliga Armén, but there were also Deer that wore no clothes beyond simple winter scarves. Stags and does both, and even fawns were laying in the snow, deathly still, their blood staining the pure white snow.
Jurva shook himself. Incredible timing.
‘’Now,’’ he continued his sentence as if nothing had happened, ‘’I agree with both sides here. It is clear that our current industry cannot support our military’s needs, at least not how it operates at the moment. New factories could provide a solution, but my colleague raises a good point; we need the spirits on our side in this upcoming conflict. Would anyone care to propose a solution for that?’’
‘’With respect, lord, there is none,’’ the Seer from earlier continued. ‘’We are already stretching the spirits’ tolerance as is.’’
‘’But we cannot fight the Changelings with our current industrial power, so clearly we must do something,’’ the Lokia executive posited.
‘’Build the factories in areas where the spirits are less present,’’ another Seer suggested. ‘’We’ve done it before, we can do it again.’’
‘’Or we can work them into the industrial process?’’ one of the industrialists thought aloud. ‘’Has that ever been tried?’’
From the looks around the table, as well as his own knowledge, Jurva assumed that it had not. ‘’I think not, but I see no reason not to attempt it,’’ he spoke up. ‘’Does anyone have comments on this idea?’’
‘’Work with mountain spirits,’’ a general offered. ‘’They like modern technology the most, from what I’ve seen.’’
‘’And how would you know that?’’
‘’I saw it myself.’’
‘’Motion accepted,’’ Jurva said, thereby stopping an argument that was otherwise sure to derail the entire thing into Hel. ‘’Next.’’
‘’Perhaps… we must look at the navy as well.’’
‘’Screw the navy, think of the airforce!’’
‘’Both are important!’’
‘’The airforce will keep us from being bombed!’’
‘’The navy will keep us from being invaded!’’
‘’We already have a good navy!’’
‘’And theirs is better!’’
‘’So is their airforce!’’
‘’We can handle their ships with the aid of the spirits,’’ Jurva intervened again. ‘’But we have no such assistance in the air. I say we increase our focus on the airforce.’’
What will they think of-
‘’Jerma Jurva.’’
If one’s name was mentioned in a vision, it usually indicated that everything was going to Hel in a hoofbasket.
Jurva saw no source for the voice, in fact he saw nothing but flames and ash. The voice was incredible, it was everywhere and it was fucking overwhelming.
‘’You have done much for Olenia, and for selfless reasons only. But you are just one stag.’’
Jurva bit his tongue. What in the world was happening?
‘’Your actions in this moment of time are pivotal, and will decide the fate of Olenia, and all Deerkind. You must not be afraid, and while patience is a virtue it must not corrupt you into sloth. You have the mind of not just a Seer, but a warrior too, Jerma Jurva, and you must utilise both if you aim to win this war.’’
The flames tore away, to reveal Changelings - they could be nothing else - rounding up Deer from ruined homes. Some were shot, others were beaten, and all who remained were taken away and loaded onto trucks, into the great unknown.
More flames, and then Changelings were shooting crying mothers, running for their lives as their world collapsed around them. The shrieks of does and the cries of fawns were drowned out by the sound of a machine gun, and then all was silent.
‘’This will be Olenia’s fate if you fail, Jerma Jurva.’’
More death came, more destruction. Hjortland, nothing more than a burned wreck. Cervus, Sakara, Vaverfront, all shared the same fate. Tanks drove over the frozen corpses of fallen Deer, and great machines decimated the forests and mountains.
And then, there was a great black void, ever hungering for more, more more MORE-
‘’Allsherjargoði? Are you alright?’’
‘’I’m fine!’’ Jurva instinctively snapped. Of course, with the vision still fresh in the eye of his mind, and the warning even more so, he was anything but.
He sat up in his chair again, taking note of the disturbed and worried looks of every other Deer in the room. Even the generals, many of whom had probably faced monsters or warswarms without fear, looked a little unnerved.
‘’I,’’ Jurva took a breath, and considered his next words very carefully, ‘’have just experienced the last - or so I suspect it to be - of a long list of visions about the future. More specifically, about the war.’’
‘’It’s coming then?’’ one of the industrialists resignedly asked.
‘’It is,’’ Jurva confirmed, ‘’and we need to face it, as we have already determined.’’
‘’My lord Allsherjargoði, I believe that if given increased resources and stagpower we will be able to mount a defence of the border,’’ one of the generals said. ‘’If we cannot hold them back forever, we can at least delay them and allow as many as possible to evacuate and prepare for the onslaught.’’
Jurva shook his head. ‘’Our border is too long,’’ he said simply. ‘’We cannot hold it against their superior numbers and equipment. But if we concentrate our forces in one area…’’
‘’Sir?’’
‘’Set up a defensive line in the interior,’’ Jurva said. Ukko’s grace, the ideas were coming to him as he spoke. ‘’Someone get me a map.’’ Someone got him a map, and a pencil. ‘’We follow the Cervus here, then through the marshes and the mountains, and we hold Hovenhamn.’’
‘’Yes, yes, yes…’’ another general agreed. ‘’The terrain will be in our advantage.’’
‘’My lord, with all due respect, we would be given up 90% of our land!’’
‘’Or we lose, and lose all of it,’’ Jurva shot back. ‘’I do this with pain, but it has to be done.’’
He placed his hoof on the Hjortland peninsula. ‘’We will construct all new industrial projects here. The plains are fit for precisely that purpose. And we must begin right now.’’
‘’Sir?’’
‘’Start the plan tomorrow,’’ Jurva elaborated. Yes, yes, yes, it was all coming together now. ‘’Start building fortifications at the line I just described, and begin evacuations from the areas that will be overrun the earliest. We have only months to work with.’’
‘’Months! Ukko save us!’’
‘’Damned bugs!’’
‘’Months, ladies and gentlestags. Months. We cannot delay, we must act now.’’
‘’I will begin construction as soon as possible, my lord.’’
‘’As will we, you have our word on that.’’
‘’Good.’’ Jurva looked up and around the table. Every face he saw was set in grim determination, ready to do whatever was necessary to ensure the survival of Olenia.
‘’Ladies and gentlestags, let’s get to work.’’
Tanks drove through the countryside, a line that reached over the horizon and as far as the eye could see. A few dozen metres behind them followed the infantry, cresting the plains and hills like a great wave of green and brown.
Great. Finally he could interact with it.
Jurva tore his gaze away from the grand army and looked at the spirit floating beside him in the air.
‘’My lord,’’ he greeted, bowing his head towards the spirit.
‘’It took you some time to convince them,’’ the spirit noted, projecting an unreadable emotion into its voice. ‘’But you succeeded in the end.’’
‘’I did, my lord. I hope you are pleased by that?’’
‘’I am, Jerma Jurva,’’ the spirit replied. ‘’You have done well. Now Olenia will have a fighting chance, and though it may fall regardless, it shall not be a honourless demise into the night, but a glorious stand that will be sung of forever.’’
‘’My lord-’’
‘’Go now, Jerma Jurva,’’ the spirit interrupted. ‘’Lead Olenia to greatness again, and show that pesky queen what my children can do. That ought to teach that Hatcher cunt something.’’
Before Jurva could even attempt to formulate a reply to that, the spirit vanished, and so did the vision.
‘’The Olenian Front of the Great War is sometimes underestimated. From Corn Moon 1008 until Thunder Moon 1012, Olenia held off the Changelingian armies, on its own for most of this period.
The main part of the fighting was concentrated around the Hjortland peninsula, which had been turned into the National Redoubt of the nation; aside from the roughly 3 million Deer that already lived there, approximately 1.5 million more had been evacuated to it, mainly the elderly and children. The Olenians had constructed several fort lines on the peninsula and generally fought on the defensive.
Olenian records indicate almost a million Deer fought in the war, including partisans and civilian resistance fighters. During the retreat, several units were left behind with orders to disperse and wage a guerrilla war on the enemy; the Olenian High Command had predicted that disrupting Changelingian supply lines would play a key part in limiting their capabilities to wage war.
Starting from Hunger Moon 1009, Equestria started shipping supplies towards Olenia, as the nation prepared for conflict with the Changelingians as well. At first just food and clothes were sent, but soon enough guns and ammunition were being shipped to Hjortland as well. The Changelingians didn’t bother protesting diplomatically, but their U-boats relentlessly sank any ships that approached the Hjortland peninsula.
When Equestria entered the war in Harvest Moon of 1009, almost a year after it had begun, the Royal Equestrian Navy banded together with the Royal Olenian Navy to clear the sea of U-boats. A process that was never fully completed, as the REN was not outfitted to wage anti-submarine warfare, and by the time it was most of the U-boat fleet had been confined to port to spare fuel. As soon as war broke out, Equestria approached Olenia with the offer of sending soldiers over to aid them. Olenia initially refused but eventually agreed to allow a maximum of two Equestrian divisions to be deployed on the Olenian front. They would fight under their own commanders, but be ultimately responsible to the Olenian high command.
Ultimately, it-’’
The bell rang.
The teacher shrugged, as the class released a collective sigh of relief. ‘’Well, that’s where we’ll leave it for the moment, I suppose,’’ the elderly mare said. ‘’See you in fifteen minutes!’’
With that unstated dismissal, the students filed out of the class. They talked about many things, but the topic the teacher had ended her lecture with wasn’t one of these things.
And yet…
Far, far away, a group of fawns, the youngest no younger than six and the oldest no more than ten, approached the statue of a stag in uniform, his head raised proudly as he aimed his rifle forwards.
‘’This is the Guardian, kids,’’ the leader of the troop explained. ‘’You know why he’s here, right?’’
One of the fawns raised her hoof. ‘’He’s here to protect Olenia from its enemies!’’ she enthusiastically answered when the troop leader motioned for her to speak.
‘’Indeed he is,’’ the troop leader agreed, ‘’but this statue is for more than that. See the inscription?’’ He pointed at a plaque at the foot of the statue. The fawns immediately crowded around it, all trying to read it.
‘’It says ‘For all those who guard our land, now and forever’,’’ one of the fawns read out. ‘’What does that mean?’’
‘’This isn’t just a protector,’’ the troop leader answered, ‘’it’s also a memorial, for all the stags and does who gave their lives in the Holy War.’’
Understanding dawned on the fawns’ faces. ‘’Are they buried here?’’ the doe from earlier asked.
‘’Over there.’’ The troop leader gestured westwards. ‘’That’s where I wanted to take you next. Shall we?’’
As the troop moved towards the cemetery, a sudden wind swept through the trees. The doe looked back, and for a moment it looked like the eyes of the statue were aglow with blue light. When she blinked, the light was gone.
Author's Note
Here we go, my entry for the 2022 Equestria at War Writing Contest! Quite enjoyable to make I must say.
I know, I know, I'm late. And a little over half of this was, as usual, written in the past two hours. Is this healthy? Maybe not. Is this what I expected? No, but I didn't not expect it either. Is this as long as I would have liked? No but fuck that longer fics are for nerds this is long enough for me and contains everything I wanted it to contain with as little filler as possible.
Anyhoo, enjoy.
