Grand Strategy

by Gladi Writes

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Death, Alternate Universe, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 4847

An Aquileian General refuses to learn the lesson of where jingoism leads.

Aquileia has grown from a peaceful monarch to an industrial power. Emboldened by success and by its development into a modern progressive nation of factories and military power, General Dupont looks to the future with ambition. Permanent, lasting, peace will be earned on the end of a bayonet and it's his plans that will get Aquileia there. However, not every person in every nation is so enthusiastic for war.

Published 2022-06-08 02:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-06-08 02:00:00 UTC

Map Games

Aquileia Rises, and so do it’s people! For a long time our people have slept and grown fat off the peace and prosperity of our leadership. No longer will the modern world tolerate our passivity. If we are to secure ourselves for the future, we must fight to prove the strength of our ideals. For Aquileia, for its children, and for the glory of its forefathers. Enlist today in the Armed Forces, and your name will forever be written in our nations glorious history.

Enlistment Bonus for Unicorns

The new poster stood starkly in contrast to the others thanks to its use of the Equestrian language. The whole wall was coated with them, and down the street in any direction the old stone walls of inner Aquila were covered with flags and posters. Now and there, one could find a spare bullet hole in the stone from last years troubles with the republicans, but that dispute had long since been settled with blood. The city was filled with a warm light while well-guarded carriages went down the road. Each and all were escorted by a different national honour guard, first griffonic, and then pony, and finally the honorary group of defected changelings.

It was a momentous day for Aquileia, and as General Dupont watched the carriages go his chest puffed up with as much pride as it did feathers. His nation had been chosen for the Convention of Harmonist Nations due in no small part to his own military accomplishments. It was he that had spearheaded the annexation of Westkeep, and it was he that had defended Aquileia from the aggression of Adelart. Both were now under the Aquileian flag, and lent their resources to the war machine he had spent the last five years of his life building.

Aquileia had proven that there was a strength of arms beyond the old times, beyond Equestrian magical prowess and that nations storied history of prosperity. In the modern age, Equestrian magic was hardly a match for steel and powder. Even if the Aquileian military still relied, in spots, on the magic of unicorns it was a crutch that General Dupont was quickly replacing with armour and artillery.

Where once had been peace and plenty, there was now industry and strength. With a soft sigh, General Dupont drew back from the curtain, and straightened out his uniform before turning back to his desk. He was restless, and while he knew full well why he wasn’t invited the negotiations that would soon commence left him anxious and on edge. The ruffles in his uniform and his awkwardly frazzled feathers certainly gave this away.

The General was, himself, a fairly handsome bird. His feathers were mostly white, with a purple pattern that started in a ring down his neck and spread in two mirrored curves down his body on either side. He always wore his dress uniform when it could be excused, and the dark navy outfit clung tightly to him. For now, his medals sat on the desk as the jingling in his pacing had tended to get irritating. Soon enough, he was right back to pacing. Back, and forth, back, and forth along the tidy office room he went.

A few minutes later, and just as Dupont was pouring out a half-glass of whiskey to try and settle his mind, there was a knocking at the door. His wings fluttered slightly, irritated at the interruption, but at the same time thankful to have something to focus himself on. He turned towards the door, and barked simply “Enter.”

The door glowed a faint blue soon enough and then swung open. Through it a much shorter and younger pony unicorn mare, dressed in a similar uniform to Dupont’s but without any medals or honours, stepped inside and bowed respectfully. “Sir a wire just came in, they won’t transmit it except in person. Must be pretty serious…”

General Dupont tilted a brow, and his beak clicked for a moment as he considered that. It would, indeed, be something of incredible importance if they wouldn’t even trust it to be printed off. He adjusted his outfit, and strode towards the door. “Maybe the Emperor died,” he noted, and turned to that mare.

“Don’t use your magic so much for trivial things. You’re weaker for it,” he noted, and glared at the mare who shrunk back before he shut the door behind him. “Refill my coffee while I’m out!”

Deeper in the offices of the Army and Navy command, Dupont entered to the communications room. It was always a busy space, and he was surprised to see the lower staff beat claw out of the room as soon as he entered. Tilting his head towards the only one remaining, the senior radio bird just shrugged. “It said as little eyes as necessary,” he explained. “The other end identified themselves as Sharp Beak.”

“Sharp Beak…” Dupont repeated, and closed the door tight with his hindclaw behind him.

“That would be our Equestrian attache, but we’ve been information sharing for months. Strange he would use his code name,” Dupont noted, and made his way through the desks and chairs to come before the telex machine.

“Well, I’m here…” Dupont spoke, “Now close your eyes. Whatever this they clearly think it’s a matter of secrecy.” He ordered.

The officer nodded, and sucked a deep breathe of smoke from his cigarette before squishing the stump into a tray beside him. His claws soon worked at the machine, and in an almost over-eager speed later the machine started printing. The ink only lasted moments, and dissapeared after each letter.

Equestrian Nuclear Test Successful. Details of practical usage leaked to office. Weapon not as expensive as thought. Weapon easier to produce. Battlefield usage being considered by Equestrian commanders on Vanhoover-Acornage line. Full plans secured. Equestrian shortage of uranium ore only limiting factor. Equestria unaware of our own shipments of ore.

Once the messaging stopped, Dupont blinked and stepped back to lean on a desk. The information itself was astounding, but what struck him more was the fact that their office in Equestria would see fit to transmit this. They were allies, weren’t they? In fact, they were about to sign a multilateral alliance to solidify their agreements in ideology into lawful pacts on defence.

The only conclusion that Dupont could draw, as his brow furrowed in thought, was that the attache knew the alliance wasn’t as sturdy as Dupont had assumed.

“Can I open my eyes now,” the officer questioned, and Dupont noticed that his eyes were still closed. Dupont sighed, and pushed off to step away. “You’re going to go far in this business with that good sense. We never spoke, there was no message- you understand I’m sure.”

Dupont returned to his office, and it wasn’t a moment after the door closed that he released a squeal of excitement. If Equestria was able to perfect nuclear explosive technology, then Aquileia’s own program wouldn’t be far behind- especially if they acquired Equestrian plans. The idea left him with a buzzing in his gut as he considered the possibilities. The Griffon Empire would be burned to ashes with these weapons, and not a single Aquileian soul would need to spill their blood for it.
Permanent, lasting, peace.

If it really was as easy as that message posited, however, then Dupont knew they would have to act quickly. The Empire, Wingbardy, even the Changelings all had the industrial capability of making their own weapons. Then there were the wildcard nations of the Riverlands, or the smaller independent states. A renewed fire grew in Dupont’s heart. It was the same fire that had driven him to so boldly drive armoured divisions into Westkeep, and to route the armies of Adelart. Even the Republicans had been no match for him. Their blood had filled the streets of Aquila not less than a year ago, and he had turned a possible rout into victory through superior arms.

The only peace for Aquileia, and the only future for harmony, was a peace won by the superior violence of a well armed military corps. This Dupont knew, it was the lesson he learned when the Republicans revolted and when Westkeep refused the authority of their King- and now their Queen. Violence brought them to heel, and it would soon unify the continent.

So it was that Dupont picked up his phone, and dialled the special projects division. Jets and rockets could wait, they needed these weapons as soon as possible. Equestrian magic might as well be a parlour trick with this in their arsenal, and they could even finally start purging their units from battlefield unicorns.

The rest of the day Dupont was busy in his office, and a revolving door of junior officers streamed in to work with him to adjust future plans. The operative plans for the Griffonic empire, laid out on a great map, were adjusted to favour more aggressive pressure deeper into the enemy lines. As the day grew short, and the sun started to go down, Dupont drew back and gazed on the great plans laid that day with a few officers beside him.

“A few thousand more casualties, but we can’t risk them surprising us. Copy these plans and carry them on down- and move Plan B ahead. We’ll need Pomovarian factories to help mechanize the spearhead units,” Dupont ordered.

“Sir,” One of the officers, a griffon not far from him in age with brown plumage, spoke, “Pomovaria is neutral, isn’t it? In fact… don’t we have a treaty with them?” He questioned.

Dupont turned, and looked at the junior officer with a glare in his eye. His wings fluttered slightly behind him as he did, and he leaned out towards the younger griffon. “Pomovaria isn’t with us, and if we don’t secure their resources it will make defeating the empire all the harder. If they have any good sense, they’ll surrender,” Dupont returned, and waved the officers away.

“Get it done.” Dupont barked.

So it was, indeed, done. General Dupont retired to his bed that night and dreamt of Aquileian glory and the enduring peace that it would earn. Of great flashes and great explosions decimating entire Griffonian divisions, and pathing the way for Aquileian armour. It was peace earned by violence, but it was a peace nonetheless. When he awoke, it was another day of work and planning while the diplomats held their discussions down the road.

On a later night, Dupont remained in his office and stared at his maps. The griffons controlled an enormous swath of land, and all the resources that came with it. Factories, population, it was a tremendous challenge for Aquileia to counter, and he was well aware of the Wingbardian bulwark on the other side of the nation. Not all of their resources could be brought to bare on one or the other lest their guard be lowered. Eventually, his eyes turned towards Fezeria and Skyfall.

All it would take, Dupont knew, was a handful of armoured divisions and some planes.

“If they have any good sense, they’ll surrender,” Dupont mumbled, and shifted a few wooden pieces over to those borders.

Satisfied for now, Dupont crossed his arms and swept up his drink in a talon before approaching the window. Opening it and drawing in a breath of fresh air he glanced outside, and his eyes followed down the street guided by the lights. Eventually they looked to the palatial conference hall that the diplomats were occupying, and he sighed softly looking over there was he swished his drink.

Dupont wondered, for a moment, if Equestria ever looked at them the same way he did Fezera. It would be a challenge for Equestria to invade, to be sure, but with the foothold of New Mareland in the south it was definitely possible. He glanced back at his map, and squinted at it before the sound of snapping metal drew his attention back out the window.

The sound had come from the conference hall, and he found that there was a curious looking vehicle parked down the street from it. No civilians were allowed near, not during the day and especially not at night, and all of the diplomats drove much more esteemed vehicles than that aged motorized carriage. Dupont’s feathers ruffled around his neck, and a growing sense of suspicion grew in his mind.

Like any law abiding citizen, Dupont’s first action was to step to his phone and work the dial. Immediately however he noticed the lack of a dialing tone, and his feathers ruffled on his back as concern grew into panic. Dupont drew his pistol from his desk drawers, and left his office via the window before spreading his wings and coming to a somewhat stumbling landing on the dark stone street below.

Dupont took a moment to take a breath, and squinted down through the lights along the street. It had been years since he had used his gun himself, and he took a look around behind him to see if, perhaps, there was any chance a more limber young griffon might take the lead. Just as he suspected though, inner Aquila was quiet and empty. He wasn’t even supposed to be working in his office this late during the negotiations- only his rank had allowed it.

With a soft sigh Dupont shook his head, and stepped carefully through the half-lit street towards the vehicle. Moving upon it more quickly once he approached, he swept his gun past the open-air carriage and found it empty except for a large stack of papers in the back. Peering up over into the car, Dupont squinted through the dim light. It was a poster, much like the propaganda ones, but from what little Equestrian he knew it was quite critical. Celestia, warmonger, and doom. These words, bold and in red, stood out to Dupont.

What happened to the magic of friendship? The document questioned, the core question emboldened against Celestia’s seal. Dupont shook his head, such ideals were outmoded and naive, and he hardly expected to see such a thing in such a progressive nation as his.

Soon however Dupont realized this curiosity wasn’t getting him any closer to finding the driver, and so he stalked down the street towards the hotel. Following after the drivers steps was fairly easy, as the gentle breeze caused an open door to clack against its frame. With his gun ready, Dupont moved on it like he was hunting with his mother again, and threw it open to stare into the darkness inside.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, and Dupont could see nothing but a dark hallway. Before he moved inside, however, Dupont glanced down at his gun and twisted it in his claw. Even with the phone lines being down, as they were, there was a very good way to get some attention. He held his head back from it, and pointed it up towards one of the balconies of the hotel. With a firm squeeze, and a sharp cracking report, a round burst out and shattered the stone.

The response was immediate, and Dupont leaned back against the stone as he cursed himself for not taking the obvious route of simply running in to get help from the guards earlier. Dupont was no front-line hero, he was a general. Regardless, he waited by the door as the lights above him turned on and increasingly hectic steps inside became louder as the moments ticked on.

Soon enough, just as he hoped, a dozen assorted soldiers from different nations were charging up to Dupont, and cast him in the brightness of a few dozen flashlights. There were ponies, griffons, and even a changeling amongst them. Dupont held his ground, and was unfazed despite the intimidating nature of the weapons soon pointed at him.

A few of them were yelling in foreign tongues, and Dupont swept open his wings and flapped once at them to silence them.

“Hold on! That’s General Dupont!” A griffon in the group shorted, and lowered his rifle before shouting at the others in Equestrian, “Put those down!”

“There’s been an intruder, the phone lines have been cut. They went in there,” Dupont explained, and sounded out his Equestrian slowly through a thick accent.

The half-circle of assorted well armed guards glanced at each other, for a moment, before one of the griffons sighed and spoke in much better Equestrian, “That’s General Dupont don’t question him,” he huffed, and gave Dupont a salute before he stepped up the door and threw it open.

The griffon guard led the small part inside, and soon guided by flashlights they set their way down the hall. Dupont followed behind by a few paces, and watched anxiously as the group went through maintenance rooms and laundry rooms. Eventually, just as Dupont was relaxing and wondering if he had been wrong there was a shout, and pressured by the energy of the group itself Dupont stumbled into a storage room after them. Their flashlights scattered light around the room haphazardly, but soon curved through the dark to highlight a pile of metal and cabling. Working at it haphazardly was a unicorn mare, with her back turned towards the group and her horn flickering awkwardly with weak magic.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing ma’am, but you stop that shit right now,” One of the Equestrian guards barked, and the mare paused for just a brief moment before she went right back to doing whatever it was she was doing.

The machine itself was an enormous thing, filling most of the room and partially disguised as a set of half-finished laundry machines. Laying against it was a marked box of explosives, empty, and Dupont noted that with a moments hesitation to simply run in the other direction.

“Go ahead and shoot me, I’m not the only one that wants a better future. One of your own officers is rather upset you’re looking to invade Pomovaria. Shame on you,” the mare growled, and with a final foreboding thunk of electronics the machine before her spurred to life and started to hum quietly.

With a soft sigh, the mare looked behind her and squinted through the light. “Checkmate, I win.”

Dupont pushed his way past the soldiers to the front, and the mare snorted once she saw him. “Oh if it isn’t the honourable General Dupont. I must be in luck if I managed to get you here too. Lead any charges today, general, or have you gotten tired of washing the blood out of your uniform?” She hissed, in what Dupont noted was a surprisingly adept speaking of his own language.

“Explain yourself,” Dupont demanded, and fluttered his wings in threat. “What is this, who are you?”

The mare sighed, and turned herself about to lean back on the humming machine. “Orange Glow- named after the sunset I think. This is a nuclear device. It’s going to go off in about ten minutes whether you want it to or not.” Orange explained, and relaxed her body in place. “Can’t let the flame of friendship’s magic go out even if I have to rekindle it with a flamethrower,” she huffed.

The Equestrian soldier gasped, “Orange Glow? You’re… you died! Years ago!”

Orange just snorted, “Didn’t investigate that much did you now?”

Dupont started to become more aware of her physically. She was older, with the look of a mother with widened hips and a fair bit of stubborn fat on her frame. Physically, she looked like the furthest thing from a threat, and her eyes were bordered by tired bags as she stared at him.

“You can’t be serious. Nobody could make one of those themselves- it took Equestria years…” Dupont started, only for Orange to giggle.

“Oh of course I could, it wasn’t even that hard. Your own country was so desperate to leap-frog whoever it is you’re planning to invade next that you paid me off, just some secretary, to copy plans and smuggle parts. You never thought to notice the bits and pieces that were missing, did you?” Orange explained, and sneered as she glanced around at all the soldiers. “Do you ever think, Dupont, what your ambitions cost? Look at these men, they’d die for you right now if they thought they had to. They’d kill me for you, wouldn’t they? How many already have?”

Dupont wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but shoved aside her criticism and pointed his handgun at the mare. “Turn… turn it off.” He demanded awkwardly.

Orange giggled again. “Can’t, made it that way. Either it goes off in ten minutes or it goes off now.”

Dupont shivered, and felt a sense of unease and anxiety wash over him while his brow started to sweat. The soldiers were just as uneasy, and they backed off slightly as they glanced at each other. “Why?” Dupont demanded, unable to think of anything rhetorical to offer beyond that.

“Why?” Orange repeated. “You know the answer, General. You look at war like a game. You go to your maps, you set out your plans, and either you succeed or your men and machines get devoured by someone else. Then they plan and grow, and every time more and more blood gets spilled. You’ve forgotten your own magic, and soon enough Equestria will too. I have to stop it, for the mothers that still have their babies.”

With a sigh, Orange gestured at the Equestrian soldier in the group. “You know who I am. Who am I?”

The soldier swallowed and shivered as he was spoken to. “Y-you’re a… well you were a patriot. I signed up because of your speech on the palace steps, about how it was our duty to defend harmony. I heard you lost your family in Vancouver, a-.”

“Mmm let’s stop there,” Orange interjected, and stammered her words slightly before she wiped some tears from her eyes. “Patriot, jingoist, harmonist- but I never stopped to question how much all this conflicts, unlike the General here.” She huffed. “We’re not defending ourselves, we’re just another team playing a death sport. You know where it ends?” Orange spat.

Orange didn’t wait for an answer, and instead thumped the machine. Those in the room grimaced in fear at it, and she snorted loudly. “It leads to these. Equestria, you. We’re just going to keep throwing these at each other until everyone knows the same pain I have for the last five years. I’m not… going to allow that…”

Through a crack in her voice Orange mumbled something unclear, and she paused to cough and as her eyes closed tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. “You know, Celestia looked me right in the eye and said the war couldn’t stop. Said my babies died protecting Equestria, they were heroes. All I never saw any heroes, just graves.”

Orange reached out for something, and Dupont watched her hoof move as if in slow motion. He wasn’t sure what it was, but before he could consider too much the fear in his lizard brain forced an action, and his talons squeezed the trigger of his handgun. With a sharp crack, soon followed by a half dozen more as the soldiers were jump-started into action by the sound, Orange’s body burst into a spray of blood all over the machine. As the room filled with the acrid smell of powder, Dupont relaxed and watched her hoof drop while it clutched a flask.

“Celestia help us,” The Equestrian breathed. “What the fuck do we do now? General?”

Dupont took a breath, “Turn it… off…” he tried, and the Equestrian glared at him. “Turn it off? Oh, genius strategy. Fucking how?”

With a sigh, Dupont stepped closer to the weapon. It was a haphazard mish-mash of machinery, but he had followed this technology long enough to be able to make a vague guess at what was going on. There was a mechanical ticker counting down, and a motor attached to it generating a small amount of power. Putting his talon to it he could feel warmth, and drew back only a moment later. His eyes darted around the machine, and he found a small panel held on with screws.

“How the fuck did she even get all this in here?” One of the soldiers questioned, and Dupont sighed before he glanced back. ”She must have been planning this for a long time. People probably thought it was a washing machine…” he mused, and used his talons to work off the screws.

With a clanging noise that made the whole group jump, Dupont got the panel off and stared inside. There, visible to him, were the two pieces of metal that gave this weapon its power. Dupont glanced back, and grabbed at a mop before shoving it inside and stepping back.

With a sigh, Dupont wiped his forehead. It might work, but then again this machine was supposed to explode anyway. The whole idea, as far as he knew, was to slam those two pieces of metal together explosively. Dupont looked to the soldiers, and then to the bomb. Before him, the mop started to slip out and he leaned forward to keep it in place.

“That might work…” Dupont spoke, and glanced between them and it. “But someone has to stay and make sure that stays in place… or find something else.”

Dupont sighed, and then stood up straight as he looked to the soldiers. “Don’t let those two pieces of metal touch- and don’t touch them!” Dupont directed, and suddenly became very aware of the time.

The conventional explosives themselves were enough to get rid of the better part of this hotel, and Dupont stepped backwards towards the door as the eyes of the soldiers followed him. “You have your orders.”

It was hard for Dupont to fight off the looks in those soldiers as they realized just where their lives had gotten them, and the Equestrian looked to the bomb as the mop started to fall back out again. “Maybe there’s something else we can use. Don’t just fucking stand there…”

While the group of soldiers awkwardly tried to figure out the puzzle, with the Equestrian keeping the mop in place, Dupont retreated back into the hall. Outside the military police had finally arrived, and were pulling up in jeeps outside. They looked confused when Dupont stepped out, but relieved as well as they approached him for direction.

“Evacuate everyone as far as you can as quick as you can. Heads of state first. There is a bomb and it’s due to go off in… ah about five minutes,” Dupont directed, and pointed a talon at one of the shocked MPs while the others ran off inside.

“Don’t ask questions. Get in, drive, as fast as you can as far as you can,” Dupont ordered, and slunk himself into the back of a jeep anxiously just before that griffon took the drivers seat, and soon it rumbled off down the street and into the darkness of the city.

The minutes ticked by in relative silence, but for the echoing of the jeeps engine or the squealing of its tires around corners, and Dupont grew more and more anxious. He watched behind him towards the lights of the hotel, and glanced at the passerby that in turn gawked at the speeding jeep. Before too long, yet feeling like an eternity of tension, there was a flash from the hotel and the loud growling rumble of an explosion that shattered the nights calm. Dupont closed his eyes, and waited to an internal count of three.

When Dupont opened them again, and found that he could open them again, he sighed and slunk into his seat.

It would be weeks until Dupont returned to the capital. The nuclear device hadn’t entirely gone off, as he had hoped, but it left toxic debris behind and a strange sickness had developed with the people that had been within a few blocks of the blast. In the end his office had been moved further towards the coastline, and from outside his window he could see vessels under construction in the dockyards. Once again, as usual, his subordinates were lined up along a great table as he moved units on a map and drew lines of engagement.

“Olenia will serve as a staging ground. Equestria is still hip-deep in with their war with the changelings. We will open up a second front, and when Equestria is exhausted and we have decapitated the changelings…” Dupont started, and pushed a few wooden pieces of ships towards the eastern Equestrian coastline.

“We will birth the future peace through fire,” Dupont declared, and stepped back to receive a secret-stamped folder. “Equestria can’t hold its magic over our heads now…” he breathed.

While his subordinates studied his orders, he slipped it open to read the answer to a question asked earlier that morning.

Five Available.