August 15th 1010, 20:00

End of the Battle of Yonderhill

Equestrians may have all been pacifist trainees in the eyes of an experienced soldier like Dobbelsteen Moerman, but this may have been the first time he’d been around soldiers that appreciate his love of a party.

Perched, literally, on the wreckage of his enemies, the Griffon commando who, in the eyes of all official sources, wasn’t allowed to go further than being a glorified advisor, was now meshed with the crowd of cheering soldiers of the bruised, battered, but unbeaten Fairflanks Militia who he had commanded. Watching the display of the gathered companies of her fellow ponies, the silver maned Thestral couldn’t help her stoic expression fall piece by piece into a smile.

“Damn the gods, Selenite, the setting of the sun can wait,” said Dobbelsteen Moerman, rising from the wreckage pile he was using as a chair, bringing a claw to dust off his floral patterned shirt and unbuttoned uniform. “Tell her majesty she’s going to want to wake up for this one.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s hardly a way to refer to her majesty.”

As the golden rays of the sun illuminated the clouds that approached with the coming of the night sky, Jungle Trek stepped out of the mob of celebrating ponies, a simple look of exhaustion and relief displayed on his face. Catching the glimpse of Strawberry Cinnamon, Shooting Steps, and others from his squad managed to get a smile out of him, as he looked at Moerman. “You are the craziest Griffon I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with.”

“That’s one hell of a thank you, Trek. Can I get it in writing?”

Turning away from the crowd and traveling down the rail tracks further back where their supplies and tents were assembled, Selenite was the first of the trio to speak. “Applejack and Pinkie Pie already picked up the first flight back to Canterlot to give Celestia and Luna both the good news.” She smiled. “Word of this victory is the saving grace we all needed to keep going, even if the fight continues elsewhere.”

Jungle Trek took off his helmet, looking over to his two friends. “We’ve done them a great blow here, haven’t we?”

Dobbelsteen Moerman adjusted his sunglasses. “A vast section of the Equestrian frontline, though sparsely populated and not holding much value, has now been secured from further attack. The fronts Equestria will have to cover will be greatly reduced.”

Selenite nodded. “I doubt Chrysalis will throw any more soldiers into this valley any longer, considering the losses we’ve inflicted. Not to mention the mountain pass from Tall Tale we’ve protected. Civilians should have no trouble escaping the Changelings.”

“It’s the first victory we’ve achieved… since the start of the war.” Jungle Trek said, gradually slowing to a stop with his two friends. “What we’ve done here today is far greater than any tactical value… the first time we’ve been able to give any of our soldiers, and all of Equestria, anything concrete to base their hopes on.”

“It’s hardly the end,” said Selenite, giving a glance towards her Night Guard soldiers celebrating with the Militia. “The Changelings are bound to return. If not here, then elsewhere along the front, and they’ll want their damages repaid tenfold for what we’ve done for them here.”

After a moment of silence, Selenite brought her eyes away from her soldiers, and to Dobbelsteen.

“It’s something to consider, Moerman. How long can we slip from defeat?”

If Dobbelsteen Moerman had an answer for the two of them, he didn’t say it.

August 16th 1010, 00:00
Good news had a way of not sticking around for long.

Despite the long ago setting of the sun, nopony had gone to sleep. Not long after the end of the battle, a much needed convoy led by the one-eyed General ‘Swift Wing’ of captured Changeling trucks, equipment, and rations brought much needed relief and supplies, with the official story being ‘You don’t want to know’. Yet, as radio communications had been sent up, news had come in just as reports were sent out.

“This is the final radio broadcast of the city of Tall Tale.”

The various platoons of the Fairflanks Militia and Night Guard Auxiliaries had gathered in the tree lines a kilometer or so away from the railroad junction, some few outposts on watch as most had gathered in an impromptu assembly area, basing its location off the only clear area Dobbeelsteen’s plane could land. Tents had been set up and lines of soldiers had sat on the ground, gathered around one of the truck radios.

“The Changelings will capture the city soon. We have exhausted all remaining ammunition, supplies and are down to the last of our numbers in holding them back.”

The cold breeze, either of the night or the words being heard, had driven the ponies closer and closer together. Even as the enemy had retreated far from where they could hurt them, they were still out there. Lucky Twirl found herself surrounded by the ponies she led in her platoon hours ago, briefly glancing at her for some look of reassurance. Sunrise Dare and Yellow rock remained uncharacteristically silent, leaning forward and hanging on every word of the radio. Sapphire stream took a break from cleaning her machine gun to turn to speak to Shooting Steps, but refrained when she saw her gaze. Locked on the treeline.

“To the defenders in the streets, the partisans in the fields, the soldiers in the trenches: Our city lives in those who have escaped. Equestria stands to avenge us. Fight hard. Die well.”

The radio had dissolved into a familiar chorus of static. The message had been on repeat for the last couple minutes. Yet, the message and its transmission had either been out of range, power, or time, as the battle for Tall Tale ended hundreds of kilometers away.

Swift Wing turned from the truck radio, her confident smirk absent. “...Not much of a signal remains.”

Sunrise Dare’s expression fell. “They – that voice said most of the ponies in Tall Tale made it out, right?”

“Yes.” Shooting Steps, nodded. Her eyes remained on the treeline. “...Just not its soldiers.”

The remnants of the Fairflanks Militia, some hundred or so, felt the familiar dread that had seemed to hound them since the beginning of this war. Each and every pony, in their own way, had worry creep into their eyes. Except Jungle Trek.

“Soldiers do their job.” Standing at the edge of the formation, the brown maned pony held his helmet loosely in his hoof. “Ponies like us bear the hardship of this world because it is what we have been entrusted to do.” He met the eyes of his former peers. “The Princesses have faith in us. And in these last hours, I have acquired great faith in you. We beat the Changelings back today, and we will do it tomorrow.”

Some ponies, whose eyes had remained glued to the dirt, found it in them to look at Jungle Trek as he spoke.

“You have all gotten me through this mess. From Fairflanks, to Salt Lick, to here. We may have had help from some… crazy feathered madgriff, but it was you who pulled me through it. I know that. You should all get some rest. We saved a lot of lives here today.”

The ponies of the Fairflanks Militia straightened their posture instinctively as Jungle Trek spoke to them. Memories and recollections of the battles in the last weeks, and their victory here today, had recovered some of the pride in their eyes. Out of the crowd, one voice spoke through the cold breeze.

Bounding to her hooves, Wild Strike’s couldn’t help but smile at Jungle Trek as the memories flooded in. “I knew you’d get us out of that foxhole, Trek. And I knew you weren’t going to leave any of us.” She raised her hoof, into a salute. “Thank you, sir.”

Jungle Trek could hardly process what was happening before Brisk Sweeper, on the other end of the formation, saluted him. “You got us through this, Trek. Thank you, sir.”

Sunrise Dare, Sapphire Stream, even Shooting Steps. The members of his former squad, and soon all of the Militia ponies that he had led to safety across miles of forest and danger had saluted him as one. Some hundred ponies looked to him, with hope in their eyes.

As Jungle Trek returned the salute, he found himself having some too.

“The fight has moved, everypony!”

News of the radio broadcast, and its developmental news on the war had spread to each soldier within the Fairflanks Militia. For obvious reasons, it caused no shortage of worry. Many of the soldiers gathered around a bonfire in the middle of the assembly area to accompany one another. That, and because the Griffon Commando was at it again, and Selenite had to admit he could draw a crowd.

“We may have beaten into the dirt these Jaegers of Colonel…” He stopped, turning. “What was his name?”

Jungle Trek leaned forward. “Colonel Zellix-”

“Colonel literally who, the point is he couldn’t step to us. Now I’m all for in and out operations, but this war you’ve all found yourselves in is going to be a long and terrible fight.” He brought up his wing to point in a vague, northern direction into the darkness of the night. “Even now we’ve heard of the enemy flowing like water through the paths of least resistance. They found a rock here, and have elected to go around us.”

Sitting in the grass amongst the ponies of her platoon, Lucky Twirl slightly tilted her head. “So…what do we do now?”

“We move the rock. Like furniture thrown in front of a pony who had a bit too many, we serve to trip the enemy into a cycle of frustration, forever unable to get their bearings, until their inevitable crash on the bar floor.”

Illuminated by the bonfire in front of him, his sunglasses reflected in small shines the eyes of each of the ponies of the Fairflanks Militia. His conduct, almost certainly unbecoming of an officer, elicited both the smiles and the trust of all of the ponies around him. Selenite could see that, and respect it.

“And crash they will, my ponies.” He leaned forward, glancing on either side of him to the gathered soldiers around him. “I am no stranger to their way of war. Ecosystems have thrived from those I put in the ground. I have changed the topographical depiction of Griffonstone’s mountain range with the amount of firepower dispensed upon bandits. I have the ultimate confidence in you, especially after today, to see this war through to an inevitable victory.”

Strawberry Cinnamon could feel her smile growing, even with her nervousness. It wasn’t long ago she was in the back of a transport truck. “What if they bring even more? Like those who took Tall Tale? Could we stop them there, Moerman?”

“There is nothing the Changelings would hate more, to face an enemy which has defeated them before.” He smiled. “And nothing we would love more.”

Selenite could see how it all came together. Their smiles remained, but the way the soldiers, even her and Jungle Trek, leaned in had them appearing less of a militia and more so the warriors they needed to be. The news of Tall Tale’s fall didn’t have them defeated, it had them eager to meet the Changelings again. All of her initial impressions of Dobbelsteen Moerman had been correct. He was a lunatic. He was out of his mind. He was a glorified mercenary, and he was the soldier the ponies needed him to be.

“The Warning Order has been given. The enemy may feel a giant amongst ants, and our fellow ponies may perceive him as an unstoppable force, but fear has begun to crawl into their veins.” His claw tightened in the air for emphasis, as the ponies followed his every move. “The enemy will become rash, as he will become paralyzed. He will be fearful, constricted by the terror we strike into him. We have achieved great victory here, my little ponies.”

Leaning away from the bonfire, his claw hung on the sling of his lever action rifle. Short weeks ago, Dobbelsteen Moerman met the scattered fragments of innocent ponies terrified. Now, they could stand on their own. They could be proud of themselves.

He grinned. “And I have a feeling you’re going to bring me a lot more, am I right?”

The soldiers erupted from the grass with their rifles in the air, cheering with excitement. Selenite and Jungle Trek couldn’t help themselves from joining in, though a bit more subdued than those around them. Weaving through the crowd of amped up soldiers, Selenite stopped before Dobbelsteen, and straightened her uniform.

“I think they’re ready to kill, Selenite.” He said, looking around. “Although this sort of completes my job…I’d like to stick around.”

Jungle Trek nodded. “Won’t hear an objection from me.”

The thestral brushed her sliver mane from out of her right eye, looking to Moerman. “The Changelings wont stop at Tall Tale, Moerman. If their momentum keeps up, they’ll be upon Las Pegasus by the end of the week. If that happens…”

Moerman looked between them.

“Las Pegasus is the largest city on the west coast of Equestria.” Jungle Trek said. “It connects to the entirety of Southern and Eastern Equestria. Its past the Ruby Mountains…” He nodded. “If they take it, there won’t be anywhere to hold the Changelings. The front will be too broad, it…It’ll be the end.”

Dobbelsteen Moerman looked to both of them. “That’s where we’re going. If Applejack’s forces, however little they are, are still near Yonderhill, they can transport us by train in time to defend Las Pegasus.”

“That’s a lot of pony power to move, Moerman.” Selenite said. “Remember, Prince Blueblood is still in Canterlot, and he controls what moves and what doesn’t.”

Dobbelsteen Moerman gave a look that seemed to be deep in thought, before he immediately gave a shrug. “Us three are going to Canterlot. I’m gonna talk to the princesses.”

Selenite deadpanned. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Jungle Trek’s eyes shrunk to the size of pinpricks. “T-The Princesses?”

“Yes Trek, the Princesses. It’s what we’re doing. I’m an advisor…or ambassador…whatever, I shoot bugs, that's all that matters.”

“Your language is precisely why this is a bad idea.”

Jungle Trek muttered to himself. “...I can’t go see the princesses…I-I haven’t even showered in days!”

“I’m gonna talk to your sun and moon god about how best to kill shapeshifters.” Dobbelsteen Moerman spread his wings for takeoff. “I’m gonna bring the plane around.”

Jungle Trek looked between Moerman and Selenite. “We don’t even have an appointment!”

Selenite narrowed her eyes. “I swear to the night Moerman-”

“I’m gonna ask for a salary, too.”

With that, Dobbelsteen Moerman took off into the sky, followed by a sigh from Selenite, whose wings thrust her also in the air. As the soldiers of the Fairflanks militia looked up to watch them go, Jungle Trek just shook her head, and put on his helmet.

“Suppose I’m walking.”

As the three heroes of Equestria each made their way to the mobile home of Feathisia’s most beloved and Skyfall’s most wanted, Wild Strikes and Caramel Crunch watched them go from the edge of the gathering of ponies. The white-coated pegasus turned to her friend, and asked. “Where do you think they’re going?”

Caramel Crunch only shrugged. “Wherever the next fight is.”

Author's Note

And so ends my first fic, LETS GOOOOOO TOTAL EQUESTRIAN VICTORY