The Corral Cabaret,

Canterlot,

Central Equestria

And The Arborlands,

Western Equestria,

And Trotter’s Bend,

Western Equestria

The harpist’s hoof jerked abruptly on a sour note, her eyes wide with fear.

There was a sharp gasp that rippled through the seated ponies as they watched a mare plummet towards the floor far below, spinning wildly about in the air as she fell. She was an earth pony, and so had no wings or magic to save her. The exclamation from the audience was enough that even those few ponies who had not been actively watching the stage at that moment, their attention diverted to either their meals or idle conversation with the pony next to them, were suddenly drawn to look back towards the stage, their own eyes wide with shock. The air was filled with a shared sense of apprehension that was almost palpable.

This was a performance that Alabaster Fetlock had seen before. Several times, in fact. Yet he still found himself holding his breath as the room’s atmosphere suddenly felt too thick with worry to breathe. After all, just because a maneuver was planned, that didn’t mean that something couldn’t also go wrong…

The long ribbons of colored silk that the ‘falling’ mare’s limbs had become ‘irrecoverably tangled’ in went suddenly taut. The earth pony’s body came to a stop just a scant few hoof-lengths above the floor of the stage, her fetlocks and cannons carefully and expertly curled around those draping lines of silk hanging from the ceiling. A grin spread across her face as she gave a wink to the rapt audience. To the side of the stage, her partner mirrored that grin, and resumed playing the harp standing in front of her with deft hooves and pure notes. The aerial silk dancer nimbly climbed back up the colorful draped ribbons and resumed her carefully choreographed maneuvers in time with her partner’s music.

The Fourth Earl of Bitter Creek joined the rest of the audience in issuing a gentle clop of hooves in appreciation of the thrilling deception before returning his attention to the food that had recently been delivered to his private gallery seat. Nothing particularly heavy, just a light fare of salad and mixed fruits to nibble on as he enjoyed the show, along with a flute of white wine to wash it down.

His gaze briefly flickered towards the curtain behind him as it was pulled aside. A maroon pegasus stallion wearing a white waistcoat stepped through bearing a tray on his back, balanced between slightly upraised wings. The ivory unicorn returned his attention to the performance. “Nothing for me right now, thank you,” he dismissed the server, adding a flick of his hoof.

“Oh, I think you’ll want what I’ve brought, partner…”

The earl jerked in mild surprise and his head whipped around towards the wryly smiling face that was entirely the wrong color for its voice. It had a familiar shape now that he really looked at it. The ‘waiter’ stepped up beside him and sat down, setting the tray upon the table. The new arrival’s own too-rounded golden eyes darted towards the mares performing on stage, and glinted with something that didn’t look at all to the earl like an appreciation for their ‘art’.

“Not bad,” Nocturne remarked with a shrug before flashing a smile which looked too predatory for the unicorn’s liking. “But I prefer a show where the mares can’t unbind themselves quite so easily. I know this place on the lower terrace—The Breaker Bar,” the not-actually-a-pegasus went on, indifferent to his captive audience's indifference. “They put ponies on stage in full tack—a proper bridle, none of that pussy halter shit. Bit, blinders, lead, a crupper that keeps their tails flagged nearly all the way back to their manes…” The stallion chuckled to himself before his expression fell into a mildly disappointed frown.

“They’ll put another pony on the stage with ‘em that’s got a crop, but the whipping’s all for show, you know? So are the yelps,” Nocturne lamented with a bitter snort. Then he leered at the unicorn next to him. “I told the owner that he should give me the crop and two minutes on the stage with ‘em. Then he’d hear some real screams!

“He hasn’t taken me up on that offer.”

“It boggles the mind why…” Alabaster sighed not quite under his breath. He kept his expression passive, and his eyes on the ribbon dancer. The earl didn’t particularly care for the EIS operative’s disposition. In fact, he found the batpony to be of an outright detestable character. Only Celestia—or, more likely, Luna—knew how it was that a pony like him had managed to flourish in service to Their Majesties. The earl could only assume that the winged stallion was less…‘outgoing’ with his peers and superiors. Nocturne was probably only so brazen with him because the operative knew that Alabaster wasn’t going to say anything to anypony about these private conversations that they weren’t supposed to be having. At least, not before his plan hit the point of no return.

“You said you had something for me?” The earl pressed, eager to get this encounter over with—and the batpony gone—as quickly as possible.

“Two things, actually,” Nocturne said, reaching over and plucking an apricot off the earl’s plate with a wing and tossing the whole thing into his mouth. “First,” he began, shifting the fruit around from one cheek to the other as he spoke through loud slurping mastications, “a Saddle Arabian force has crossed the border. General Reconnoiter is on her way to meet them with the Twenty-Second Chargers. The battle should be any day now.”

Relieved to be involved in conversation of a far more tolerable subject than the batponies erotica preferences, Alabaster allowed himself to relax slightly into his seat as he continued to watch the show. “Can we reliably predict how the battle will turn out?”

“Reconnoiter has about four thousand ponies. The Arabians massed a few of their militias together into one larger force—the report I got estimated close to ten thousand,” Nocturne continued, now sucking on the pit still rolling around in his mouth. “The report the general got says she’s only going up against a single Arabian militia cohort—two thousand horses, thereabouts.

“By the time her own pickets see the enemy, it’ll be too late for her to ultimately avoid an engagement.” He spat the apricot pit out onto the earl’s half-eaten salad and reached out for an apple.

Alabaster kept careful control of his features, and forced himself to let out a slow, measured, breath as he focused on the substance of the batpony's report. “Good,” was all he trusted himself to say for the moment.

Equestria needed to suffer a crushing military defeat at the hooves of the Saddle Arabians. In their first engagement, at least. An incident of their own for the nation to rally around and hone the ire of her ponies. Something that could be spun to the media—and Their Majesties—to keep Equestria invested in the fight. And so, he needed to arrange for Equestria’s own ‘Gallopoli’.

A Saddle Arabian military force, crossing Equestria’s borders in anger, killing or capturing several thousand of Their Majesties’ brave soldiers, unprovoked—so far as the wider public knew, anyway—The princesses would have to respond with force of arms of their own. They would have to call Equestria to war.

“And the second bit of news?” The earl prompted, still not trusting himself to be able to look at the batpony without glaring.

“I gathered together a…team—a ‘detention detail’, you could say. They’re on standby, waiting for one of Maniple’s search parties to find Corsair.” He tossed the apple into his mouth, crunching on it loudly with a complete adsense of table decorum until it was pulverized and swallowed. “Once she’s in their ‘custody’, they’ll make sure that loose end Hawkwood left you is tied up all neatly like. Specifically in a sack. At the bottom of a lake somewhere.” Nocturne chuckled to himself at what he likely considered to be an amusing joke on his part.

“What does your…‘detention detail’ know of her involvement? Or us?”

“Nothin’; and Maniple doesn’t know who they are either; not really,” Nocturne assured the unicorn with a flick of his wing. “Everypony only knows what they need to know. That’s how shit like this works. Maniple knows where he's supposed to have his ponies take Corsair when they find her and that's all that matters.

“Likewise, my team just know that whoever the cavalry gives them needs to never be seen, heard from, or found again. They don’t know names and they don't know reasons—not that they’re the type of creatures who'd care anyway.” Another predatory grin flashed across the not-a-pegasus’ face.

“As for ‘us’, they only know me; and not even the real me.” A mirthful snort. “So there’s no trail on this.

“I’ll send you a bill for what it cost to arrange it.”

The earl permitted himself an eye roll this time. He made a mental note to arrange for a shipping invoice to be generated and paid for by Sandalwood and Sons to whatever alias the batpony preferred. Celestia knew he didn't need services like this being paid out of his personal accounts. “Fine. And you’re sure Corsair will be dealt with this time? Permanently?”

“I’ve used them before,” Nocturne replied with an easy shrug. “They haven’t fucked up yet.”

It wasn’t exactly the ringing endorsement that Alabaster had been hoping for, but the unicorn supposed that it would have to do. He actually had a lot of factors working in his favor. Corsair and the other survivors shouldn’t suspect that any of their fellow cavalrymares wished to do them harm, and so shouldn’t be actively avoiding being spotted by the Equestrian military groups searching for them. They’d likely even flag them down if they saw any. So the capture itself should go off with little issue, from what he could see. The only point of any real risk was passing Corsair and her companions over to Nocturne’s ponies. But as long as they didn't figure out anything was amiss before it was too late…

The earl allowed himself a relieved sigh. His telekinetic aura picked up the flute of wine and he took a sip of the refreshing liquid. “Then it sounds like everything is well in hoof. As long as General Reconnoiter intercepts the Saddle Arabians, everything should progress exactly according to plan once more.”

Nocturne poached another apple, but this time only took a single bite of it. He still chewed loudly as he asked his next question though. “You want me to tell you when it’s over?”

“The battle?” The other stallion nodded before tossing back the rest of his stolen fruit. Alabaster spent a few moments in thought before finally shaking his head. “No. It’s best if I get that sort of information through ‘proper channels’ moving forward. I shouldn’t risk appearing to know too much about what is going on within our borders when I’m supposed to be focusing all my attention on our diplomatic channels, to nearly the exclusion of all else.” This time it was his turn to flash a small smile at the operative. “After all, if matters aren't handled just so, Equestria could find itself drawn into an all out war!”

Nocturne swallowed the remains of the apple and returned the earl’s smile with that overly viscous grin of his. “And wouldn’t that be a crying shame…”

‘Hurry up and wait’ really did exist at every level of the cavalry, didn’t it? Corsair mused to herself with a mirthless chuckle as she leaned back against the tree.

Her eyes slowly scanned over the other three ponies in the grove of trees with her. Like her, they were all lounging around the small campfire that they’d recently built. Their barding and weapons were piled a short distance away from the group. Not too terribly far, but also not immediately within hoof-reach of anypony. Poor military etiquette, to be sure—and it certainly dug at the captain’s professional sensibilities—but what they were about to try was risky enough as it was. They’re guests were bound to be jumpy as it was, and jumpy ponies with weapons got excitable.

Excitable cavalrymares got stabby when they felt threatened. So it was best that it was made patently obvious that neither Corsair, nor her companions, could get to their own arms easily.

The ear on a sage green earth pony stallion twitched. He made no other motion, continuing to lay flat on the ground with his eyes closed as though he were napping. “Three hundred meters out,” he murmured under his breath loud enough for his commander to hear. “South by south east,” Sergeant Briar Patch continued. “Nine ponies.” There was a brief pause, then, “...six stallions and three mares.”

Flashover shot the other stallion a dubious glare. “...Bullshit. There’s no way you can tell that by hearing.” The fiery unicorn at least had the good sense to keep his indignant disbelief down to a whispered volume.

“You’re right,” the sergeant admitted before his lips spread into a smile a moment later and he opened up an eye to wink at the unicorn. “But I can feel it through my hooves.” He tapped the ground gently twice with one of his forehooves. He closed his eyes once more. Another moment of silence, then: “Four unicorns and five earth ponies.”

The unicorn opened his mouth and was on the cusp of making a comment that was likely to be far louder than Corsair would have preferred, but managed to clamp his lips down tight on his consternation. However, the mare splayed out on her back beside him had not managed to remain completely silent. The aquamarine unicorn laying on top of an ivory cloak—which had quite obviously not weathered the last few days of travel through the arborlands well and was likely beyond saving—had to quickly shove her hooves over her mouth to stifle her laugh down into a muffled giggle.

Corsair loudly cleared her throat and was gratified to see all three sets of ears of the nearby ponies flatten against their heads. Her ponies went completely silent once more and settled back into their ‘afternoon naps’.

Nine ponies on the ground, the cobalt pegasus thought to herself, which leaves three in the air to round out the full squad. At least one—more likely two—will be watching over Dusty.

It had been something of a risk to send out the corporal. Whoever had arranged for those mercenaries to sack Gallopoli and kill her ponies almost certainly knew that there had been five survivors from Bronco Company. Those mercenaries had been using a roster of some sort to make identifications, so they would probably have also known exactly who those five survivors were, too. However, it wasn’t for certain that those descriptions had made it all of the way out to every single Equestrian soldier in the area.

Honestly, it was probably even overly paranoid of Corsair to believe that every member of the cavalry was looking for them. But that EIS batpony they’d found had let them know that there were high ranking ministry members involved, at the least. And only somepony in the cavalry could have passed those mercenaries that roster. Which meant that somepony in the cavalry was in contact with the mercenaries. Maybe even somepony high ranking enough to order a search for them.

If the precautions that she’d taken did turn out to be unnecessary, then so be it. She could survive any kind of personal embarrassment that might cause. But if she was right to be paranoid…

They’re coming for us in force, and not with just a messenger, Corsair noted as she continued to feign her nap. Her own ear twitched now as she caught the faint sounds of twigs snapping in the distance. Had they genuinely been asleep, or even just idly chatting amongst themselves, the pegasus doubted that their group would have heard the approaching ponies yet.

They’re moving carefully. They want to catch us by surprise if they can.

This wasn’t going to be a friendly encounter, Corsair was forced to acknowledge. She allowed herself a disappointed sigh that sounded a lot like a soft snore.

“One hundred meters,” Sergeant Briar Patch whispered.

“Do what they tell you, and don’t say a word,” Captain Corsair reminded her group. “Leave the talking to me.” A quiet chorus of ‘yes, ma’ams’ answered her, followed by more silence. Her eyes once more flickered over to the green earth pony who she found herself briefly wishing could have actually been Shillelagh, and not for the first time in the last few hours. The pegasus suppressed a wry smile as she recalled that she only had herself to blame for that, even if it had been the ‘right’ call.

“I don’t like it, ma’am.”

“I know you don’t, Shelly; neither do I. But if this goes teets up…Nothing against Whirlwind—he’s a fine officer—but he’s never done anything like this before. You have.”

“Captain, you can’t even be sure that they’ll bother taking you prisoner. They might have orders to kill you on sight.”

“The Cavalry doesn’t give orders like that. And even if somepony did issue that kind of order…if we’re really to the point where our officers and NCOs in the field aren’t questioning something like that…”

“If we’re really supposed to be fall-ponies for some kind of op, they aren’t going to want witnesses, ma’am. They won’t let you reach Canterlot alive.”

“I don’t doubt that, but it’s not going to be members of our own Cavalry that do it. Too many questions’ll be raised that way. The batpony said an EIS operative is involved in this; a high-up one. If anypony’s going to make sure we can’t get our story out, it’ll be them. They probably wouldn’t flinch at making ‘problems’ disappear the way we're thinking.

“There’ll be a transfer somewhere along the way. Whoever catches us will pass us into custody of whoever they were told to and call off further searches. You and Whirlwind'll break us out and then we’ll have a clear shot at Canterlot.”

“...You’re making a lot of assumptions, ma’am.”

“I know. All the more reason not to keep all our eggs in one basket. If you can break us out, great. If you can’t…Whatever else happens, Shelly: you get my ponies to Canterlot. You’re the only one who can.”

“...Okay. Just—

“...Just take care of yourself, Vee…”

Corsair’s ear flickered at the sound of a twig snapping in the forest. Their guests were close now. Close enough to hear Briar Patch even if he whispered, so the stallion remained still and quiet. But he did shift slightly on the ground, extending himself into a comfortable stretch. It looked genuine enough that an onlooker wouldn’t have questioned the direction that his outstretched forehoof ended up laying in. The cobalt blue pegasus issued a singular audible tired smack of her own lips.

The inevitable charge through the last few meters of forest towards their group would almost certainly have caught them off guard if they’d actually been napping. Corsair gave the new arrivals that much credit. She spared a moment’s thought to idly speculate on whether or not it would have been more tactically advantageous to try and come at her group from more than one direction, but acknowledged that it would have taken a lot more time to get ponies into position for a pincer move like that and would be harder to coordinate effectively over any kind of distance. With the numbers involved on each side, this squad had chosen a reasonable tactic.

Corsair and the three other ponies with her all shot up in clear surprise at the sound of dozens of hooves pounding through the brush and ponies shouting. The aquamarine unicorn lying on the envoy cape even produced a believably startled screech, sounding like somepony had just intruded on her while she was in the shower. Corsair herself made sure that she shot to her own hooves and looked around with appropriately shocked wide eyes.

“What in the fuck is going on here? Who are you?!” The cobalt pegasus roared at the new arrivals as they spread out to encircle her small band. Corsair noted that one of their unicorns put themselves between her ponies and their gear to block it off.

“Captain Vought Corsair!” A mare announced from the wood line. The pegasus flashed the armored pony an incredulous glare. The steel gray unicorn fixed her own narrowed ruby eyes on the officer. “Squad Sergeant Diamond Plate,” she introduced herself. “I am under orders to detain you, and any ponies found with you, and deliver you for questioning.

“You will stand down and surrender to us.” Her horn flickered with a fresh crimson glow, a matching aura materialized around the spear slung to her back, but the weapon wasn’t actually drawn.

The same could not be said for several other spears which were hovering around Corsair’s band. The cobalt flier continued to glare at the squad sergeant. “Under whose authority?”

“I’m told these orders come directly from Brigadier General Maniple,” came the terse reply. “Will you stand down?”

It was all that Corsair could do not to actually spit when she heard the name. If she ever got her hooves on that bastard of a—

She choked down her ire, which was no easy feat, and gave one of her wings a brief flap in the direction of her other ponies, motioning for them to drop their own guarded stances. “You heard the mare,” she growled back towards them. “Stand down, ponies. General Maniple’s orders, apparently.” Behind her, the aquamarine unicorn mare’s horn flickered, but appeared to quickly sputter out. She flashed a sheepish smile at the nearby soldiers and lit her horn a second time. This time her telekinesis manifesting around her cloak as she cautiously lay it over her back and affixed its clasp around her neck.

Movement from above drew Corsair’s attention and she saw two pegasi making their way down to the surface. One of them was Corporal Dusty ‘Cravat’ Trails. The other was presumably one of Diamond Plate’s ponies. Two other armored fliers were hovering above the trees.

Her attention went back to the squad sergeant. “Alright, Sergeant Plate, what now?”

“Now,” the unicorn nodded to several of her other soldiers, who produced five pairs of hobbles and two wing-binders, “you don’t make this harder than it has to be, captain.”

Corsair’s eyed the restraints wearily. Her apprehension didn’t need to be feigned. She’d figured that this would be a possibility and had accepted it as a hurdle that they’d just have to try and work around somehow. Her eyes darted back to the squad sergeant. “It’s going to be a long trot back to Canterlot with those on,” she pointed out.

“We’re not going to Canterlot. Not yet,” the unicorn replied with a shake of her head. “A detention detail is meeting us at Trotter’s Bend. Even at a half-step, it’ll only take a few hours to get there.”

“Trotter’s Bend,” Corsair repeated evenly.

Behind her, the caped unicorn was having trouble getting her telekinesis to adjust the clasp of her cape, much to derisive amusement of one of the newly arrived armored unicorn stallion’s near her. She offered up an apologetic smile. “Sorry; nervous,” she offered meekly.

“Let’s go!” Squad Sergeant Diamond Plate snapped at her soldiers. “I want them bangled, bound, bagged, and ready to move out in the next two minutes!”

Two members of Diamond Plate’s squad advanced on Corsair, a unicorn and an earth pony. The unicorn held a set of hobbles and wing-bindings in her telekinetic field. The earth pony stallion had a canvas sack gripped in his teeth. She forced herself to remain still as cold steel manacles were clamped around her fetlocks, fastened together by a chain which wasn’t quite long enough to allow her to take a full step. The thick leather strap of the wing-binder was then slipped around her barrel and cinched down to a painful degree, pinning her wings to her side. The cobalt pegasus didn’t particularly care for the satisfied sneer that the squad sergeant was wearing just before the bag went over her head.

Hacksaw finished dragging the last of the crates out of the wagon, shoving it off to the side of the barn with a grunt of effort to join the other four. The lids had all been removed and set aside until such time as contents for those crates arrived. Which was presumably going to be some time tonight.

The minotaur bull let out a low rumble under his breath as he worked a crick out of his neck. His beady brow eyes came to rest on a burly rust-red earth pony mare who was lounging on several bales of straw that were stacked at the back of the old barn. She had an old knife that looked like it was more nicks than blade held between her teeth and was using it to pick clods of dirt out of her frog.

“Thanks for the help, Meridian.”

“You’re welcome,” the pony replied without missing a beat or even looking in the minotaur’s direction.

A snicker from above drew the attention of the other two members of the group. A griffon hen was smiling down at them from where she was wedged into the barn’s cupola. “If those crates were giving you trouble now, can’t wait to see how you struggle when they’re full,” she chided, sticking out her tongue.

“They ain’t exactly ‘empty’,” the minotaur shot back with a snort, pointing at the layer of stones that lined the bottom of the nearest crate.

“Maybe you can ask Gracie if she’ll lighten one of the crates for you by keeping a snack for the road,” the mare on the straw remarked.

“Eww,” the griffon’s mouth beyond the edges of her beak pulled back into a grimace. “We eat fish, you sicko!”

The earth pony’s face scrunched up into a look of genuine confusion. “You do? Wait, then who am I thinking of that’ll eat pony? Don’t tell me it’s hippogriffs…”

“Harpies,” the minotaur supplied in a bored tone.

“Right; harpies! Thank you, Hacksy.” Meridian paused in thought for a moment before looking back up the griffon. “...Does that mean you’d eat a hippogriff while they’re all ‘finny’ and stuff?”

“No! What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, sure, yeah; act all sanctimonious,” the earth pony snorted derisively. “We’re about to slit the throats of five ponies and dump their bodies in a river, but I’m the degenerate because I asked whether seaponies count as ‘fish’...”

“They’re sapient beings!”

“Not when they’re dead, they’re not,” Meridian countered with a shrug.

The griffon hen opened her beak to reply, but her rebuttal seemed to die on her lips as she struggled to come up with a counter that she thought for a moment the pony would even bother to entertain. Her gaze darted to the minotaur who at least had the good grace to look as disturbed by the notion presented by their comrade as she was. He looked up at the cupola and offered her a helpless shrug. The griffon shook her head and sighed.

A flicker of movement through a broken wooden slat caught Grace’s eye. She turned her head and looked out through the copula’s small opening. “We’ve got movement on the road!” She announced to the others. The pony and the minotaur each perked up immediately, their gaze locked on their lookout, awaiting additional information. “Looks like a whole column of ponies. Armored. Definitely Equestrian Cavalry.” Another long pause, followed by the griffon turning her head and smiling down at her companions. “I see ponies with bags over their heads.”

The minotaur unclenched his fists and let out a relieved sigh. “Those’ll be our packages.” He turned and approached the barn’s door, opening it to greet the new arrivals. His eyes scanned over the five ponies with the bags over their heads. Those were the ones marked for ‘disposal’ by their client. They must have been particularly troublesome ponies, in the minotaur’s estimation, if the Royal Cavalry was the one delivering them. He’d been under the impression that Equestria’s princesses operated more above board than this.

On the other hand, Equestria’s spooks answer to that darker one, and they’re supposed to be pretty on point.

Hacksaw found himself wondering just how much of the ponies’ ‘morally superior’ image was propped up by propaganda over substance.

A smoky gray pegasus stallion with yellow eyes and a brown mane led the group. The pony eyed the looming minotaur in the doorway warily. “You’re the ones collecting the prisoners?”

The big brown bull snorted, rolling his eyes. ‘Prisoners’, he calls them. “I guess,” he shrugged. “Was told to wait here for five ponies to be delivered.” He conducted a quick count of the bagged heads. “And I count five.” He stood aside and pulled the door open wider to allow the procession past him.

The pegasus leading the group looked back at the other armored figures and jerked his head towards the barn’s door. Several other soldiers urged their bagged and hobbled charges forward. An older mare with a glittering green coat trailed the prisoners. Her eyes darted around the interior of the barn, lingering for only a moment on Meridian and Grace before returning to the minotaur with a raised brow. “Just the three of you?”

The minotaur shrugged again and gestured to the quintet of restrained equines. “Not like they’re going to be much trouble like that,” he pointed out, earning a nod from the mare. Once again her gaze darted to the other two members of his group. Then to the opened crates along the side of the barn.

When the emerald mare’s eyes once more returned to the minotaur, there was a hardness to them that made the bull feel uneasy. Without taking her gaze off of him, she canted her head back slightly and made a comment to one of the other armored ponies. “Tell Gale to ring the bell.” The gray pegasus stallion standing outside the barn extended a wing out to his side and flicked out a seemingly random sequence of pinions.

Hacksaw’s brow creased in confusion and he turned around to face the earth pony mare lounging on the straw bales to see if she could make sense of the pony’s odd statement, believing it to be some sort of Equestrian idiom or something—

There was a loud crashing sound that came from up above, paired almost simultaneously with a surprised squawk. Drawn by the unexpected sound, the minotaur turned around to see what had happened to his griffon companion.

Whether the older crystal mare had been waiting for him to look away specifically, or if she was just keen to capitalize on an opportune moment was hard to say. In either case, the result was the same. The minotaur only became aware of the attack she launched when a pair of steel-shod hooves connected with his kneecap in a devastating double-buck, instantly pulverizing it. Hacksaw howled in pain as his leg gave out from under him, sending the bovine crumpling to the ground.

When he fell, he finally saw what must have been the source of the sound that distracted him in the first place: an armored pegasus mare had apparently crashed bodily through the thin wooden slats of the barn’s cupola and slammed into the Grace. The wind was knocked fully from the griffon’s lungs as the pair plummeted to the ground. The hen took the brunt of the landing, her body softening the impact for the pegasus on her back.

There was no effort being made by the griffon to get back up.

Judging from the unnatural bend to her spine and the hen's open, vacant eyes, there never would be.

Meridian only managed to get to her hooves before all of the masked and hobbled ponies were no longer masked or hobbled. Five on one were obviously unfavorable odds, and those five had backup close on their heels in the form of a dozen armed and armored Equestrian soldiers. On the off-chance that proper members of the pony military were in the practice of respecting offers of surrender, the rusty-hued mare spat out her knife and sat back firmly on her haunches, forehooves raised in the air and a frown on her muzzle. “...Fuck.”

Hacksaw was only vaguely aware of what had become of his companions. What little focus he could manage through the intense pain was occupied by the veritable rainbow of glowing auras surrounding the half dozen spear tips hovering at his neck. It was probably a good thing, in the end, that he’d been so seriously wounded, the minotaur would decide later. It had stopped him from immediately retaliating against the ponies before he had time to appraise his situation like Meridian had. Being as big as half a dozen of the smaller ponies didn’t grant him hide that was any more resistant to being pierced by steel spearheads.

He allowed his balled fist to unclench and slowly raised his own empty hands above his head. His eyes glared at the crystal mare who’d ruined his knee. She didn’t seem to begrudge him the look.

The gray pegasus stallion who Hacksaw had greeted stepped up beside the emerald pony. “What do you suggest we do with them, first sergeant?”

She was quiet for what felt to the minotaur like an eternity—but had likely only been a few seconds—as he waited to hear whether their surrender would be honored or not. Not that the bull felt he was standing on any sort of ‘moral high ground’ to object to a decision of summary execution on the mare’s part, given what he and his band had been intending to do with the ponies they’d been told to expect. Hacksaw wondered just how much of that these ponies knew. The look that the crystal mare had given the five open crates suggested that, even if she hadn’t been explicitly told, she’d been able to infer enough of the truth.

The ‘first sergeant’ frowned. Hacksaw was careful to keep his features impassive as he waited to hear the fate of himself and his remaining companion. “We should keep them alive for now, sir.” The mare leveled her gaze at the minotaur. “If,” she stressed, to him as much as the pegasus she was nominally responding to, “they can stay quiet and don’t make too much of a fuss.”

These ponies almost certainly wanted to question them. While the weighted crates certainly weren't a great look and spoke volumes about what his team had likely intended to do with the ponies being delivered to them, it wasn't entirely inconceivable that he and Meridian would ultimately live through this. Equestrians weren't generally known for extrajudicial killing. They didn't even have capital punishment! At worst, the two of them would spend a long time in a prison somewhere. He didn't particularly like the thought of going to prison, but Hacksaw knew he'd get a trial, and it wasn't like he and Meridian had actually done anything specifically illegal. Yet. And there wasn't anything in the barn that could convict beyond a reasonable doubt. He was pretty sure, anyway.

There was a better than even chance of him and Meridian simply getting deported back across the border. He could live with that.

Hacksaw gave the crystal mare a wordless nod.

The pegasus beside her nodded and looked to some of the nearby ponies. “Bind and gag them,” he ordered before turning his attention to the pegasus that was still standing over Grace. “Is she alive?” The pony frowned as they prodded at the still griffon. They leaned their head down by her beak for several seconds before looking back at the gray pegasus and shaking their head. The stallion gestured to one of the open crates. “Get her body out of sight. Put the others behind those bales,” his wing gestured to where Meridian had previously been lounging.

Next he looked to one of the ponies outside. “Signal the others it’s clear to come up.”

Squad Sergeant Diamond Plate’s hoof rapped soundly against the door of the old barn. There was a brief moment of muffled movement, and then it opened. Slightly silhouetted in the lantern light from within was the face of a batpony mare with perked up tufted ears.

Should have figured we'd be giving them over to EIS, she thought to herself with a snort. “I was told this was where I was supposed to bring Captain Corsair?” The Canter Company noncom eyed the leathery-winged pony warily. She always felt a little put off when she was around Princess Luna's 'spooks'.

The gray-coated mare’s face split in a toothy grin. “Indeed it is!” The mare gingerly stepped to the side with careful steps, allowing the barn’s door to open wider. Her eyes darted briefly to the bagged and bound ponies being escorted by the cavalry squad. “We’ve been expecting you, sergeant. Come on in…”

Author's Note

Thank you so much for reading! As always, a thumbs up and comment are always greatly appreciated

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