Operation Alicorn Sunset

Chapters

The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 1)
Last Minute Plans
Breach The Celeste Line
73 Easting
'Intelligence'
War on the Sea (Part 1)
War on the Sea (Part 2)
Alamein Box
The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 2)
The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 3)
The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 4)

The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 1)

Chicoltgo, 1st day of the siege.

The Heer forces scattered in and around Chicoltgo were a disorganised mess just a day ago. Unexpectedly cut off from any inflow of: reinforcements, supplies, orders and every other essential for fighting a war; the large force inside Chicoltgo seemed like it was doomed. Oberst Radowitz was far out of his depth in the urban battle, he was a tanker, destined for the open fields and rolling hills.

The changeling had been prepared for the unthinkable, the single largest surrender in the history of the hives. Radowitz truly didn’t know how many men were under his command, but there at least 70 000 soldiers crowded in and around the city. The officer believed he could hold for two days, nothing more.

Especially given the Equestrian superiority in siege warfare. Their ability to hold hard positions was far better than the equivalent capabilities in the Heer, better tactics and better understanding of the terrain all but guaranteed it. They’d even borrowed tactics from the Reich, their festung cities and heavy artillery. Radowitz had zero confidence in his ability to hold out. That was until the griffon showed up.

The griffon mercenary getting here at all was an oddity. He and the PanzerGreadiers escorting him must have fought their way through the Equestrian line, dodging artillery and the advancing pony forces squeezing the noose even tighter on both sides. Through some divine miracle, the siege engineer sent by the Queen herself had arrived in the city unharmed.

Within an hour of arrival, Radowitz actually believed they could survive. Now, well into the first day of the siege, they were still alive and holding strong. Ground had been given, and men were lost, but they were still alive. The griffon, who he’d learned was named Gerhardus, had certainly whipped new life into the Heer defence.

Halving rations, limiting ammunition usage, restricting artillery usage were all basic steps. The griffon had also insisted they treat the cities residents well, and banned the soldiers from draining them for love and plundering their houses for food. Radowitz had to agree, they simply didn’t have the ability to fight an insurrection in the city, and the attackers all at once.

Interestingly, Radowitz’s new best friend also seemed intimately educated on the Equestrian tactics. Under his direction, they had managed to effectively counter the Equestrian attacks. It also helped that they were defending a pony city, the Equestrians would never indiscriminately shell their own citizens.

Now as the sun set, on Eqqus, Radowitz and Gerhardus sat atop a large building in Chicoltgo, watching the city bellow them. Their perch was a warehouse close to the perimeter with the Equestrians, a sturdy brick building which had once held mountains of fizzy drinks bound for the entire continent. Now, it held the 5th brigade of the Vraks rifles.

With night soon to come, the ponies would rotate in the Thestral units. The ‘knife eared bastards’ as Gerhardus called them, would continue the attacks during the night. Better hearing, darker colours and night vision made them the best night-fighters in the world. From this warehouse, the 5th rifles could be quickly moved to counter their main thrust.

But for now, everything was quiet. “How long till they begin the attack?” Radowitz asked.

On the roof of the warehouse, the two leaders of the Heer’s defence lay against a hard brick was on the roof. The griffon reached into his coat and pulled out a pocket-watch “Give it an hour.”

It wasn’t just the two on the roof, around them other changelings quietly went about their business, all keeping their heads low to avoid any lurking snipers. Cleaning guns, eating rations, or just quietly talking with friends and comrades, everyling had something to do. The only changelings truly in action were the snipers, watching the concrete forest for any movement.

“You think we’ll win?” the changeling asked.

“You don’t win a siege battle,” Gerhardus chuckled “you survive it. Our victory condition is surviving long enough for the rest of the army to break us out.”

“Alright. What do you think the odds of that are?” Radowitz pressed.

“I can’t answer that. All we can do is fight the good fight here, and hope everygriff else pulls through. But I’d say we’ve got pretty good odds if we can survive for two weeks; after all, its not just our necks on the line here.” The griffon explained.

“What do you mean? Who else is on the chopping block here?” Radowitz questioned. High command wasn’t really his thing, the big picture always eluded him.

“So many changelings. Roland for one, his pride was wounded by the defeat. Pharynx also needs a victory to save him from execution, it was his troops who routed in the face of the Thoraxian free army. Vaspier also desperately needs a win, he failed to get anything on the Crystal Empire, and didn’t see Bluebloods coup coming. Chrysalis also needs this, she needs to show that the ponies would crumble before the rebuilt Heer, or domestic support for her reign will collapse.” Gerhardus listed “I could keep going, but the bottom line is that we’re far to important as a statement not to rescue.”

Radowitz laughed “Thanks for making me feel important.”

The pair continued going about their business in the eerie quiet of the city. Gerhardus unpacking and double checking his equipment, laying out grenades and removing safety pins. He also routinely ate small strips of some dried meat from a small bag on the ground. It did cause some changelings to quietly gag, although they possessed fangs and were technically omnivorous; they only ate meat in survival situations, and the fangs were primarily for hard love extractions.

The changeling tanker tried not to think about it too hard as he pushed his own lukewarm spinach lasagna around in its metal tin. At least it was nourishing and full of enough calories to keep a changeling running for days.

A changeling Sargent suddenly approached the two commanders and held out a rifle. “Sorry to interrupt you sir, but me and the lads think that you’ll be needing this.”

Radowtiz took the rifle in his own magic with some uncertainty. Being trained as a STUG and armoured commander, Radowitz hadn’t actually been in a fight outside an armoured vehicle before. Non-the-less, it would be a necessity in the urban combat. While he possessed over 1000 tanks in the city, they were all in reserve out of artillery range or disguised among the buildings.

“Thanks Sargent.” He politely smiled, as he checked the rifle over.

“You’re from Vraks right?” the Sargent asked as he dropped an ammo bag on the ground. Confused, Radowitz asked “Then you’re promoted to honorary rifleman of the 5th Vraks rifles.” The Sargent smacked the Oberst on the shoulder before trotting away to talk with the rest of his men.

As Radowitz checked the gun over, trying to conjure the memories of his shooting lessons, Gerhardus leaned over to check on him “You know how to shoot one of those?”

“I mean…” the Oberst began “I can shoot one, less confident on reloading it.”

“Pass it ere Rad, I’ll give you a rundown” the griffon said, holding out a paw and making gimmie motions.

Radowitz handed the rifle over and snorted indignantly “Just call me Joseph, you’re not in the Heer, so ignore the whole sir thing.”

“In that case just call me Hardus, its shorthand for my full name.” the Griffon nodded before quickly moving on “So this is a Mauser…”

1 hour later

Getting kicked awake wasn’t something Joseph was used to, and certainly not something he wanted to make a regular occurrence. It was uncomfortable and painful, but annoyingly effective at being woken up quickly.

With the sun having set, and the city in a blackout, the night was almost pitch black. In the dim light of the moon, the Changeling tanker could see Hardus fully awake and alert. FG-42 in paw, the griffon intently watched the open ground beyond the warehouse. Many of the outlying buildings had been torn down to clear a line of fire for the defenders, and the griffon watched the rubble intently.

Joseph Radowitz also got up, and carefully peered over the outer wall on the roof. He scanned the rubble, up and down the ruins, nothing seemed amiss. Shadows were stagnant, no sounds or sights came from the nearly open ground just beyond their perimeter.

“They’re out there.” Hardus muttered “At least a battalion, maybe more.”

Despite the cold temperature, Joseph found himself feeling hot and sweaty. “What do we do?”

The griffon ran a paw across his beak, clearly thinking. Then he made up his mind “This is a much denser attack than I was expecting, and they’re coming here. I need you to go and get your STUG and bring up the reserve VolksGrenadiers, we’ll need light weapons to force them back. Hit them in the sides and send them packing back across the rubble.”

Joseph nodded before slowly getting up and trotting towards the other edge of the building. Whispering for a few snipers to follow him, the changeling leapt over the side of the building, using his wings to drift to the ground.

Atop the massive warehouse, Gerhardus gave one more glance to the rubble before hurriedly waving an officer over. The officer crouched by the griffon and watched the rubble as well, also trying to spot anything “You think they’re out there?”

“They’re out there.” He affirmed “Set the mortars up just over there, remember our elevation when aiming them. Send someone downstairs, get everygriff up, make sure they don’t just start shooting at shadows.”

The officer nodded before moving off, leaving Gerhardus to his own devices. Surveying the roof, Gerhardus was impressed by the Vrakian riflemen. The massive hive city was known for producing some of the best soldiers in the Heer, and it showed. The troops on the roof were already awake and ready.

One unusual trait he had noticed were their melee weapons. Outside of the Griffonian knights, hand to hand weapons usually only consisted of a knife or bayonet. These Vrakians however had a bounty of blades, a surprising number of broadswords were sheathed under great coats; others carried sharpened shovels or hammers. One even carried an icepick with him.

While useless normally, Gerhardus had found out that the 5th brigade rifles were only recently transferred from the 5th army. Apparently they’d gotten bogged down for 8 months in Las Pegasus, and learned the value of close quarters weapons for urban combat.

Gerhardus had imposed strict radio silence on the riflemen and a strict blackout across the whole city. So it was unexpected with the platoon radio crackled to life. “5th brigade, do you read me!” a voice shouted desperately.

Angered by the disobedience and interruption at this crucial moment, the griffon stormed over to the radio and picked up the receiver. “I ordered radio silence.” He seethed to the changeling on the other end “This had better be good.”

“5th brigade they’re scaling your walls! Entering on the 2nd floor and coming out the sewers!” the voice urgently shouted.

“You see them?” the Griffon asked, voice steady.

“Yes sir!” came the reply.

“Light them up!” he shouted back.

The time was weapons free to the opening of gunfire was almost instantaneous. The crack of rifles came from a small factory just on their left, and the bullets thudded against the walls of his own warehouse. A searchlight atop the factory lit up and began to point somewhere over the wall.

Dropping the receiver, Gerhardus expertly swung his FG-42 into his paws and sprinted over to the wall. Riflemen already on the edge of the building opened fire on the enemy five floors beneath them. Arriving at the verge and daring a glance over, the sight was just as bad as expected.

Hundreds of Thestrals were clustered around the base of the warehouse, ladders and ropes leaning against the wall allowed countless breaching parties to enter the warehouse fortress. A barricaded gate at the bottom of the building had been forced open as the ponies poured inside. The searchlight from the other building briefly illuminated individual Thestrals, the light reflecting off their bat like eyes.

“Weapons free, mortars hit 5ft in front of the building, HE shells!” Gerhardus shouted. Abandoning the wall, the griffon galloped on all fours towards the stairs. “Platoon fall in!”

A platoon of the Vrakian riflemen followed the griffon down the stairs while the snipers and mortar teams already engaged unleashed hell from the rooftop. As Gerhardus practically threw himself down the stairs, flairs were shot into the sky, illuminating the battlefield. As he ran, he constantly shouted “To the 2nd level, we’re under attack!”

Various other shouts from NCO’s and officers also filled the air, adding to the chaos.

“Get your guns!”

“Secure doors and windows!”

“Prepare for close quarters battle!”

Withing seconds, the troops were up joining him in charging down to meet the attackers. The 4th and 3rd floors were already battlegrounds, some teams who had scaled higher were engaging the veritable torrent of changelings cascading down the stairs. The crack of rifles filled the air, meanwhile several stealthier attackers engaged the troops in hand-to-hand combat.

Thestral knives and nightguard axes sparked against Vrakian broadswords. The warehouse was nearly pitch black, with the enforced blackout, troops relied only on the light of their torches and light from the flares outside to provide vision for them. The fighting was brutal, and in this close quarters environment, sheer ferocity and momentum counted far more than any advanced tactics.

Spilling onto the 2nd floor, from countless stairwells the crack of rifles was so continuous that some might mistake it for machinegun fire. The entire floor had been cleared out, boxes used as barricades on the lower levels, and ammunition and supplies stored higher up. The entire floor was completely open, save for the thin pillars which regularly broke up the floor.

Changelings spilled onto the floor in an unending torrent, and Thestrals poured in relentlessly through the windows. With no cover beyond the pillars, there was nothing to do but shoot and advance. The two sides inexorably advancing towards each other as dozens fell every second. Chunks of brick dust and shrapnel filled the air like flies on a hot day, spurts of blood falling like rain.

Right in the centre of it all was Gerhardus, standing tall on his hind legs, spraying openly with his automatic rifle. “Advance forward, concentrate your fire, throw these knife eared bastards back out the windows!”

The only light in this room were the flashes of gun barrels and wild spray of torches. In the dark, the changelings couldn’t aim properly, the Thestrals had the advantage. Leaning against a concrete pillar and taking cover as he jammed another magazine into his rifle, he made a call. “Lights on!”

Somewhere at the back of the floor, a changeling heard him and threw the breaker. Electricity fizzled for a moment, before the floodlight illuminated the whole floor in their unnatural white light. Immediately, the Vrakian infantry shot better, and Thestral losses skyrocketed.

Having to climb ladders and ropes up to the 2nd floor, the flood of changelings into the arena was simply more than the ponies could keep up with. A superior rate of fire from the more advanced and semi-automatic changeling guns also decided the battle. Bodies mounted on both sides, advancing changelings and thestrals walking over the dead to get forwards.

Here, the Thestrals and Changelings stood just 5 meters away from each other. The cover having long since disappeared, the two forces fired at each other in lines. It was a battle far more fit for previous century. Here, the Changelings prevailed.

“Secure the windows, unleash Tartarus on those bastards!” Gerhardus shouted as Vrakian riflemen rushed to the windows and began to throw lead onto the Thestrals down below.

“Everygriff else, follow me!” Gerhardus shouted as he continued to charge down to the ground floor.

Arriving on the ground floor, the area was already engaged in a brutal battle. The forces stationed on the ground floor were significant, armed with heavy machineguns and reinforced with barricades. But they were being overwhelmed just like everygriff else. The troops down here had seemingly been caught off guard, and were paying the price.

The flood of changeling reinforcements injected new life into the battle. Here the Thestrals had numbers, but they lacked cover. The Thestrals and brought heavy weapons forwards, anti-tank rifles and PIAT anti-tank weapons were used to create breaches in the barricade and advance forwards.

Gerhardus reached the floor and blindly threw a grenade in the direction of the forced open door. Somehow the Thestrals had opened it and were streaming reinforcements in. Fire from the upper levels, mortar shells exploding a point-blank range and sniper fire from the other building were thinning out the attack however.

Taking cover behind the barricade, Gerhardus landed next to a Heer Lieutenant. “How’d they get in!” he shouted over the battle.

“One of our own let them in!” the officer shouted back.

Lacking the time to fully contemplate the implications of that statement. Gerhardus found an opening in the sandbags and forced the barrel of his FG through, taking a moment to aim, he opened fire and emptied his magazine into four different attackers. Reloading, he took notice of the sound of approaching vehicle engines.

Knowing that it must be Oberst Radowitz returning with reinforcements, the griffon breathed a sigh of relief. He took the opportunity to assess the building and figure out its dimensions. Feeling like he’d just discovered gravity, he realised you could roll and armoured vehicle in here. A pair of large steel doors lay at the back of the building, all they needed to do was open them.

“Put down covering fire!” the griffon shouted “Lieutenant” he grabbed the officer from before “Your men will help me open those doors do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” came the firm reply.

As the riflemen increased their rate of fire and supressed the attackers, Gerhardus made a dash for the large steel doors. Grabbing one, he started to pull it open as the changeling riflemen joined him. Bullets crashed around them as they dragged the heavy steel doors open using pure ponypower.

“Come on, put some back into it!” the changeling lieutenant shouted at his men.

Channelling their magic and pure strength, the team forced the doors open despite the oncoming fire. Wasting no time, the soldiers immediately dispersed back to cover as the Thestrals unleashed a torrent of bullets against their former position. Gerhardus himself dropped back onto all fours and took cover behind the sandbag and metal barricade separating the two warring sides, following the platoon radioling.

Grabbing the receiver off the radiolings back, Gerhardus clicked through the channels until finding the one he wanted. “Joseph do you read me?”

The receiver crackled for a second before the voice of the Changeling Oberst came through “I read you. I’ve got the vehicles and reinforcements, where do you want them?”

“The Thestrals are hitting us here and now. Send your infantry and vehicles around the side to hit the knife eared bastards where it hurts, I’ve got mortars hitting danger close so watch out. That STUG meanwhile, roll it in here and show these bats the canister!” Gerhardus shouted.

“Roger that.” Joseph replied before going silent.

The crack of rifles and the bang of grenades was slowly drowned out by the deafening cry of a heavy engine. Churning the rubble bellow it, the iron elephant lumbered forwards. Barrel first and followed by the rest of the body, the vehicle entered the room and imposed its overwhelming presence on the battlezone.

Canister was a brand-new weapon to the Heer’s arsenal, produced under licence from the Reish and only deployed after the second invasion. Despite being brand new, the tank commanders of the Heer’s panzer arm rarely carried them into battle, preferring to bring HE or HEAT rounds. In this urban battle however, Joseph had ordered all his vehicles to carry them.

Rolling past the battle line, the STUG stopped and took aim. Rotating on the spot, the STUG targeted its static gun down the warehouse, its rifled barrel gleaming in the unnatural light. Then it fired, and the world shook. Tiny metal balls bounced around the building, creating a thousand smaller explosions across the whole floor.

The Thestral return fire dwindled. By the second canister round, it had stopped. It seemed like the Thestrals had just disappeared. In reality, their attack had finally run out of steam, and those inside the building had been riddles with so many holes they may as well have been turned into a red mist.

Quickly getting up, the changeling riflemen crossed the former killing floor and reclaimed the far wall. Some bared the new door shut, while other went over the pony bodies and speared them, making sure they stayed dead. The changeling bodies were also carefully picked up and carried away, they’d be buried properly later.

The Vrakian infantry pushed the door closed and saw about barricading it again. From their reclaimed window positions, the infantry set about punishing the retreating Thestrals. Meanwhile the reinforcing vehicles and Volksgrenadiers closed the noose around their sides.

For Gerhardus, this signalled his end in the engagement. The griffon pulled his pitch-black beret off and ran a claw through his feathers, trying to cool himself down. He clasped his paws together and thanked glorious Boreas for keeping him alive another day. This wouldn’t be the only raid of the night, but it was probably the most concentrated.

Lifting the heavy metal hatch, Oberst Radowitz clambered out of his STUG. The changeling quickly pulled off his headset and dropping it back into the vehicle and jumping off the vehicle. Approaching and sitting down next to the griffon, Joseph Radowitz huffed. “Things seem to be peachy here.”

“Thanks for the help.” Gerhardus blandly stated.

“Anytime Hardus. You did good holding them off.” Radowitz said, patting the griffon on the shoulder.

“Course I did good, I’m always good. Bad news is that we’ve got a massive problem , one I genuinely don’t know how to counter.” Gerhardus growled. It wasn’t often he found an unsolvable problem.

“What is it?” Joseph asked, curious about the danger.

“That Thoraxian Free Army is in the city.” Gerhardus growled as Radowitz’s eyes widened “We took in changeling units without discrimination, no one bothered to check who they were or where they came from.”

“But that means…” Radowitz began counting numbers in his head “Dear Chrysalis there could be thousands of them. We have no way to find out who’s friendly, anyone could be a traitor.”

“No way at all. We’ll just have to take it one step at a time and be very careful with who we trust.” The griffon growled in dismay.

Occupied Acadia Bay

“Chrysalis you wrinkly old hag, fancy seeing you here!” Trimmel shouted across the hotel lobby.

The occupied city was an important logistical node for the Heer and its ever-advancing juggernaut. After its fall during the invasion, the changelings had put down some serious infrastructure and built it up. When the Equestrians retook the city, they’d expanded even more on the renovations.

The city had become a key part of the war effort, and it showed. The Grand Alicorn hotel, its ornate red and panelled wood interior was fortified and filled with changeling officers. Outside, platoons of riflemen walked by, and trains carried entire freights of fresh tanks to the frontline. The roar of jet engines sounded overhead as the Luftwaffe aircraft kept the constant air-war going.

Striding across the hotel-turned-command-centre, Trimmel made his was over to the Queen of all changelings; flanked by several officers and soldiers. Chrysalis for her part was wearing her military uniform, a bright white jacket and hat with a gold trim. Decals of her crown adorned her jackets collar and the lands flag was plastered on her hat.

Many soldiers of the Queens Guard had become accustomed to Trimmels blunt way of speaking to the Queen. A few of the younger ones however bared their teeth and growled at the insult, moving to grab weapons. A wave from Chrysalis stilled them as she shouted back “Trimmel, a pleasure as always.”

The HivesMarshall reached her and held out a hoof which she shook “Great to see you here. Now then, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?”

“To meet you and the brave troops of the Heer of course. What kind of Queen would I be if I did nothing but stare at the backs of my changelings.” Chrysalis gave a smile almost identical to the one Celestia would give her ponies. “And who better to introduce me than their commander.”

Bullshit, Trimmel knew it was more than that. Yes Chrysalis loved the her Changelings, and would do anything for changelingkind to prosper; but she wasn’t a fighter. Chrysalis was a political leader, and she wouldn’t risk dying when it was completely pointless.

“Well of course.” Trimmel played along “Follow me, I’ll give you a tour.”

Smiling, Trimmel led Chrysalis out of the lobby and into the former staff office, now the base commander used it as an office. Chrysalis, far taller than all other Changelings walked with her head held high, smiling and nodding at Heer soldiers. Some bowed while other took of their helmets and hats, nodding with reverence. While the Heer as a whole followed Trimmel and not Chrysalis, none could deny her force of presence.

Trimmel stepped in the office first, the base commander jumping to his hooves and saluting. The Changeling officer smiled “HivesMarshal Trimmel sir, its an honour to have you here.”

“Good to be here commander. We’ve got a special VIP here, could you bring 10 of your best here to greet them here in 30 minutes?” Trimmel explained, usually he played the part of the special VIP during visits like this.

“Of course sir, who’s the special gue…” the commander trailed off as Chrysalis walked into the comfortable office. The officer stumbled over the next few words, managing only a few dumb sounds before recovering “yes sir right away sir!” she near shouted before trotting out of the office briskly.

Shutting the door with his magic, Trimmel dropped his hat down on the table and gave out a tired sigh “I assume you want the big chair?” he asked Chrysalis, gesturing to the commanders winged armchair.

“Obviously” Chrysalis replied as she walked around the desk and collapsed into the winged chair.

The Queen of all changelings lit up her magic and teleported in her cigarette extender and. Trimmel did the same, procuring a box from the pockets of his uniform. Striking a match, the Queen lit the HivesMarshals first before holding the flame to her own. Taking a few drags, the two sat in silence before getting down to business.

“So why are you really here?” Trimmel asked, getting straight to business.

“Because I intend to lead the Queens guard in battle.” Came the simple reply from the queen.

“Right.” Trimmel nodded “So that’s not happening.”

Chrysalis huffed, rolling her eyes “Obviously I don’t intend to do any fighting, sitting in a tank and driving around the backlines suits me better.”

Trimmel could understand the decision on some levels, it would certainly provide the men with sky-high moral, and would boost support for the war back home. But that Didn’t explain why she was doing this now of all times. “Why? Of all the places and times, why now and here?”

The expression Chrysalis switched to was one which the Great Queen barley ever war, she looked awkward. “First, I promised to personally rescue the ‘Heroes in Chicoltgo’; I need to keep that promise. Before you say anything, its not for anyone at home, but the international observers.”

Trimmel nodded in understanding as Chrysalis paused. He knew that the Queen was supposed to be entertaining the Reich Attaché about the time the pony offensive began. Perhaps she’d said something or made some sort of promise to the attaché?

“The second reason in the mercenary, Gerhardus Omsclaw.” Chrysalis nervously stated.

Coughing out smoke, Trimmel managed not to die on unfortunate death before throwing an incredulous look her way. “Hardus? I mean, he’s a good leader, but not enough to warrant you going in.”

Sighing, the Changeling Queen rubbed her forehead with a hoof “I wish it was that simple, unfortunately this comes straight from the Crown Prince of the Reich. The young Kaiser-to-be is apparently very fond of the mercenary and threatened to withdraw Reich support and stop selling us oil. Sure he’d only… 10 right? When did we send him that tank again?” Chrysalis asked.

Momentarily caught off-guard by the questioned, Trimmel stammered for a moment. Running dates and numbers through his head for a moment before nodding in confirmation “He’s 10. Perhaps we should send him another tank for his 11th birthday, maybe one of those King Tigers you’re so fond of?”

“Brilliant idea.” Chrysalis confirmed with a smile “Anyway, despite only being 10, when he makes a direct proclamation and is set on going through with it; the Reich has to follow it. Trust me, I’ve had a lengthy discussion with Regent Eros about it. The long-short of it is that we need to save Gerhardus or the Kaiser is going to pull support.”

Nodding a few times, Trimmel gave no immediate reply. Instead he reached a hoof into his uniform and produced a hip flask. The Changeling took a sip of the liquid before offering the flask to Chrysalis, the Queen eagerly grabbed it in her magic and took a swig. Just as quickly, she reeled back and shuddered.

“What is this?” The Queen asked.

“Polmos Vodka, its 96% alcohol.” The HivesMarshal laughed.

“It’s like I’m drinking petrol.” Chrysalis growled taking another swig “Fucking brilliant, going to have to get myself a few bottles for the tower.” She laughed handing the flask back to Trimmel.

Trimmel screwed the cap back on and shoved the flask back inside his pocket. The Changeling let out a hearty laugh “I swear I’m such a bad influence on you sometimes.”

“Damn right you are. Now then lets go save a bird!” Chrysalis cheered.

Author's Note

So I realised just how fucky my timeline is when I tried to age Grover. Upon checking my original work, 1017???? What was I thinking! So I'm retconning it back to 1014 and pretending that I knew that all along.

Anyways, the battle in the warehouse is based on the night attack in the film 'The Eight Hundred'. I don't know what Fimfics rules about links are; so just google it, or don't, I can't force you to do anything.

Trimmel and Chrysalis also continue to be my favourite characters to write, they're dialogue just seems to write itself. Chrysalis bouncing between several different personalities is also amusing to me, she's a true changeling now. The next few chapters are going to bounce between the Chicoltgo gang and various pov's outside the city, so those two will probably be back soon.

The Thoraxian free army finally showed up, that neat I guess.

Also Grover finally did something. I sort of imagine that his relationship with Gerhardus is the Cool uncle variety.

I don't really know what to say here, just typing out words tbh. If you've got any questions, ask them and I'll be more than happy to answer. If anyone's got suggestions, pop those down as well and I'll give them a read.

Last Minute Plans

Present day

“If you don’t mind me asking, when did you learn about the Key Lake facility?” The reporter asked.

Trimmel placed a hoof on his chin, rubbing it and thinking. “It was back in 1016, just after my 44th birthday.” The reporter stuttered, choking on his words for a moment. “I know, I’ve aged horribly. You actually thought I was a well aged 60 year old, hate to break it to you, but I’m only 50 years young.”

“The Key Lake facility though,” Trimmel continued, enjoying the uncomfortable shifting due to his mistake. “I found out quite unspectacularly, read it in a file. Though I recall my confrontation with Chrysalis afterwards to be quite lively…”

9 months following Trimmels retreat from Equestria.

The tower of Chrysalis was a daunting structure, a black spire which stretched miles into the sky, the greatest feat of Changeling engineering. That was until today at least, the day Trimmel was briefed on the tactical weapon project recently finished at Key Lake. Tactical weapons, just a fanciful dream for the longest time, now a very real, and dangerous tool in the arsenal.

Trimmel stood in a lift waiting, the small metal box shot up the tower towards the peak of the spire, the personal apartments of Chrysalis. Standing next to him was a nervous Synoval, the fez wearing changeling doing his best to straighten out his uniform and look presentable. Synoval always made the best effort to upstage Trimmel at every turn, always desperate to get his old position of Hivesmarshal back.

Right now though, he was actually trying to protect Trimmel in his own way. The Hivesmarshal was seething that the queen had invested in something like nuclear weapons without consulting him, and Synoval was right in thinking that any outbursts would reflect on him as well. It was strange that Synoval was the mediator for once, normally he was trying to incite something.

“Remember Trimmel…” Synoval began, Trimmels eyes swivelled to the side as they tracked the movement of the other changelings eyes. The completely deaf Hivesmarshal watching his lips form words. “Don’t start a fight, be calm and be collected. Remember how trigger happy the queens guard are, they’ll shoot you without hesitation for a perceived threat.”

“Don’t worry Synoval, I’m the picture of calmness and security.” Trimmel assured his subordinate.

Shuddering slightly as it reached the top, the lift stopped. Ahead of the pair, the shining metal doors parted and revealed a large open space. Chrysalis’s apartments were as luxurious as one could imagine, fit for only the richest of lings . Almost everything was coloured in black or dark grey, her signature colours. While all other monarchs had their fancy castles and classical architecture, Chrysalis was a fan of modern architecture: square sofas, hanging glass lights, striped carpets, it was luxurious, but more typical of a millionaire and not a queen.

Sitting on a sofa facing through a window which made up the entire wall was Chrysalis herself. The queen of all changelings was lounging around and staring out to sea, lost in thought. In her mouth, she held a cigarette extender between her lips, gently puffing smoke out from a lit cigarette on the end. She didn’t look much like a queen, she never did really.

Trimmel immediately strode out, ignoring the queens guardsling who stepped out to try and stop him. He made a beeline towards Chrysalis and greeted her in a loud voice as he strode across the room “Chrysalis you old cock! What’s this I hear about you not briefing me on a weapons project.”

If Trimmel could hear, he’d have heard Synoval mutter from behind him “here we go…”

As he strode towards Chrysalis, the changeling queen turned around and caught sight of the approaching Hivesmarshal. The queen visibly cringed; she’d obviously been expecting this kind of confrontation with Trimmel. Sometimes it was hard to tell if those two even liked each other, perhaps it was a love hate relationship.

Before he could reach her, a queens guardsling appeared out of seemingly thin air and stood between them. The matte purple armour of the guard blended very well into the dark room, perhaps it was a tactical choice. The guard lit up his horn, magic pulsing around the grip of his pistol.

“I suggest you apologise to our queen.” The guard growled.

“Let me tell you something son, during the Stalliongrad revolution my team was found out by one of their commissars. To keep our cover, I beat him to death with a folding chair. So what do you think I could do with this knife then?” Trimmel explained.

The guardsling looked down, alarm plastered on his face. Trimmel had drawn a knife from his strap on his leg using his hoof and slipped it between an overlap between two plates of his armour. In one quick movement the knife would be imbedded in his heart. The guardling froze, the magic gripping his pistol faltering.

“If you’re quite done traumatising my guards Trimmel…” an indignant voice drawled.

The marshal gave a smirk to the still frozen guard before withdrawing his knife and sheathing it. He stepped past the guard and approached Chrysalis, Synoval quietly apologised to the guard. Chrysalis took another drag from her cigarette and exhaled it into the air as Trimmel sat across from her.

The queen of all changeling lifted a silver cigarette case and offered it to Trimmel, the marshal picked one up in his magic and placed it in his lips. Synoval arrived as well now and took one for himself, he sat down next to Trimmel. Taking a box of matches from the table between them, Synoval struck one and lit both of their cigarettes before placing the matches on the table separating all of them.

The trio remained in silence for a few seconds. Each composing themselves before the upcoming argument. Chrysalis held up a hoof and shook, as she raised her voice and addressed the room “everyone get out.”

Guarlings seemed to appear out of the shadows and folds in the curtains as no less than a full platoons worth of guards seemed to stream out. As they were leaving, Chrysalis pointed at one of the guards “except you Vaspier, you stay.”

The guard in question stopped, then was surrounded by a green flame as he transformed. The form of a changeling guard slipped away as Vaspier, the great imperial nobody, appeared before them. Chrysalis, thoroughly unimpressed, gave him a bland look “don’t you have something else to be doing, like your job?” She asked.

“Probably, but I felt obligated to be here, what with my role in all this.” Vaspier countered. The nobody made his way over to their sofas and took a seat.

“We all know you just wanted to watch the chaos unfold. Bloody parasite you are.” Synoval blandly stated.

“What can I say, I’m a habitual anarchist.” Vaspier chuckled.

“Didn’t you shoot every anarchist in the country.” Trimmel asked.

“If he didn’t then he’s possibly the worst Spymaster I’ve ever appointed.” Chrysalis chuckled. “Could you use the door next time as well instead of sneaking in here. One of these days someones going to get trigger happy and put a bullet in your head.”

Vaspier chose to totally ignore Chrysalis’s comment on him sneaking in as he addressed the queen “Just eliminating all the competition.” Vaspier explained. The great nobody pulled a flask out of the folds of his great coat and started to sip from it “don’t let me interrupt you.”

Blowing a puff of smoke into the air, Trimmel spoke up “I loathe to admit it, but the bastards right. What the fuck Chrysalis?”

“It’s your highness and…” the Queen of all changelings started before being interrupted by Trimmel.

“We’re in private, I’m not calling you that.” He angrily muttered.

Chrysalis let out an angry breath through her teeth “I’m not inclined to brief you on every project my teams are undertaking. You may be the supreme commander, but this is my country, so don’t you dare to assume you can order me around.”

“If I recall Chrysalis, you gave me total military authority. That project was designed with military application, why wasn’t I even briefed on its existence?” Trimmel seethed, using his magic to push the cigarette into an ash tray.

“This isn’t military, this is research. You could argue that toaster production has military applications and start sticking your hooves into it if you wanted to. I have to draw the line somewhere Trimmel, otherwise you may as well be king.” Chrysalis snorted.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” Trimmel sniffed.

Before Chrysalis could shout an angry response, it was Vaspier who spoke up “ohhh they’re getting personal now.” He let out a loud laugh.

“Vaspier…” Synoval spoke up for the first time in a while “I’m going to remind you that you’re within punching distance and Trimmel has a hitting things when he’s pissed habit. In fact…” the other marshal shifted away from Trimmel and sat on the far side of the sofa.

Getting past the others brief interaction, Chrysalis returned to her Hivesmarshal “Don’t you dare to assume you could rule the hives, you’re nothing without me, I made you. You shouldn’t assume that you’re so irreplaceable to me as well, I can get any number of lings to replace you, some of who are in this room right now!”

Trimmel suddenly let out a hearty laugh “You think Synoval could do what I do! That’s a good one, that really is.”

“Yeah not to take sides here” Synoval interjected “but I don’t want his job. I want to be Hivesmarshal yes, but Trimmel does so much extra on top of that and basically runs the military economy, I can’t do that.”

Synoval made a good point, despite wanting Trimmels position as Hivesmarshal and supreme commander, his job had expanded so far beyond that. Trimmel basically ran the military economy, he had his say in every aspect of production and manufacturing in the entire queendom. Any other ling would have buckled under the mental pressure of running everything at this point, every ling except Trimmel. The pressure was taxing on his health, and he was ageing horribly, but he was running it. Synoval wanted to be military leader, but not leader of the economy.

“The nukes are of military application, they’re a military tool, I should have been included, let alone briefed on its existence!” Trimmel shouted.

“They didn’t even start as a weapon! It was just a power generation tool meant to take strain off our: oil, steel and coal resources. This whole weaponisation of it came about in the past year.” The queen of all changelings explained.

“And let’s not even get into its usage, you made a strategic weapon! This weapon destroys whole city’s, if you want to rule equestria, then blowing it up isn’t the way to win this war.” Trimmel exclaimed as he slammed a hoof on the table separating them.

“I agree! They failed as strategic weapons, the ones we’re building are designed as tactical weapons, drop them on an airfield or mountain you can’t get around.” Chrysalis shouted.

Trimmel picked himself up and strode across the room. He picked up a chair in his magic and started to smash it against the floor again and again and again. Splinters flew everywhere as it broke under the immense pressure of his attack. Once it was thoroughly destroyed, he turned around and roared “that makes so much fucking sense!”

Silence reigned in the room as everyling waited for Chrysalis or Trimmel to make the next move. One of them was going to do something, it was just a question of which one. Chrysalis sighed as she held out her cigarette case once again “want another one?”

Trimmel straightened out his jacket as he walked towards her “please.”

The Hivesmarshal sat down in his original seat as he took the matches off the table and lit his cigarette. “So then, what are the details of this project.”

Vaspier began to cackle, slapping a slightly disturbed Synoval on the shoulder “mum and dad have such a toxic relationship don’t they. You two are perfect for each other!”

“And you are still within Trimmels punching distance.” Synoval warned “could I also get one of those?” He gestured to the cigarettes.

The queen of all changelings lifted the box of matches in her magic and struck one. The flame lit up as she offered the match around. The various changelings leant forwards in their seats as they lit the cigarettes. Pulling back and collapsing into their seats, the changelings engaged in another round of total silence as they fuelled their collective nicotine addiction.

Chrysalis stumped her cigarette down on an ashtray and waved a hoof “Synoval, get us glasses and a bottle of Port from the cabinet.”

The changeling marshal made absolutely no complaints as he stood up and made his way across the room towards a drinks cabinet. Although he made the best possible effort to be quiet and keep an ear on the conversation.

“Pooling together our fissile material into a series of reactors across the country, we’re able to build a tactical nuke every month. I’ve already built up a small stockpile on the weapons, 1 city buster and 2 tacticals.” Chrysalis explained “They’re airdropped from strategic bombers onto any targets we can mark. The impact radius is about 150m, though the radiation and full blast radius could be a few km, we’ve only tested a city buster before, so info on the tactical’s is only theoretical.” chrysalis explained.

At this point, Synoval returned with the port and glasses for all the lings. He placed the four glasses down on the wooden table and delicately poured the Port into the glasses. Each ling, even Vaspier, took one as they waited for Trimmels obvious question.

“I see the validity of the tactical nukes, I do. However, I’ve now read the reports and watched the tape of the detonation, I flatly refuse to drop one on other soldiers.” Trimmel said, swirling his port around.

“Won’t be entirely up to you, I’ve created a four-person system for deployment of the weapons. Each ling needs to be in unanimous agreement for the deployment otherwise it doesn’t go through.” Chrysalis spoke as she took a sip from her port.

“Who gets a vote?” Trimmel inquired, he took a sip from the port before having a drag from his cigarette.

“Me and you obviously.” She pointed out “Apangesis also gets a vote, it’s his pilots who’ll be dropping the bombs so he has the yes or no with weather or security. Last is Lysander, he doesn’t have any particularly strong views on the matter, but I wanted each armed forces branch to have a say. The city buster is off the table though, I’m keeping that one permanently in reserve.”

Trimmel nodded in understanding “why make a city buster if you aren’t planning on using it.”

“Rumours, nothing you need to worry about.” Chrysalis tried to deflect.

Instead of Trimmel who asked the next question, it was in fact Vaspier. Acting like a good friend and laughing up until now, he suddenly turned serious and demanding like the flick of a switch. It’s why he had such a horrible reputation among the military, with his seemingly endless personalities and perfect control over his emotions, you never knew what he was going to do or what he was thinking.

“I find it strange that your spymaster hasn’t heard these rumours. Do enlighten us your majesty.”

“It’s none of your concern Vaspier, remember your place.” Chrysalis warned.

“My place is hearing rumours just like Trimmels is shooting things. You’ve hidden weapons from him and now information from me.” Vaspier continued, his voice low, tone dark “We need to know what’s going on.”

Chrysalis sighed, she probable regretted inviting Vaspier to this conversation. “This doesn’t leave the room, if it does, then you’re dead. Vaspier, don’t send any spies there or I’ll tear off your wings and throw you through the window. Are we clear?”

Vaspier and Trimmel nodded, confirming they knew how serious Chrysalis was. The queen only ever made threats she would keep. Nothing was a bluff when it came to her death threats. Synoval meanwhile shifted uncomfortably, no longer sure he was meant to be here. Nether the less, he nodded for the queen to continue.

“In the far north of the Griffonian continent is the dread peninsula, home of the undead. As a backer of the arcturian order, they pass information directly to me of any happenings in the north. Nothing concrete has been confirmed yet, but the dead are moving. Increased sightings, more guards going missing, flashes of necrotic magic rising higher out of the magehold. It might be nothing, just rumours, but that’s not a chance I’m willing to take.” Chrysalis said slowly and deliberately, she made sure that each ling understood exactly what she was saying.

Vaspier remained silent, his expression unreadable. Trimmel meanwhile took a drag from his cigarette, then a sip of port. Synoval just continued to shuffle uncomfortably, probably working up the courage to ask something.

“So then…” chrysalis began as she turned the conversation back on track “what’s your plan for the second invasion, the details I’ve been getting are sparse at best.”

“Well…” Trimmel started.

Present day

Trimmel concluded his story, the Longswordian reporter nodded in understanding. The pony gave a small smile as he continued to take notes and write down points on the conversation. The reporter then reached out to the tape recorder on the table between them. He flicked it off and took the tape out, stashing it off to the left he placed a different tape inside and readied himself to click the record button again.

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that.” Trimmel placed his face in his hoof. Although the Dread League was public knowledge now, what with their war against the Arcturian order a couple years back, but Chrysalis didn’t want anyone to know that the Changelings had some forewarning.

“Its fine, I already knew.” The reporter reassured with a smile “I was the correspondent in the Arcturian order before it collapsed.”

“Really? Well colour me surprised; I didn’t think any of you lot made it out alive.” Trimmel exclaimed in surprise.

When the Dread League invaded the Arcturian order, the Griffon knights fought back valiantly against the undead horde. But they were quickly overwhelmed and totally collapsed under the pressure of an undead army, vicious mind control magic turning knights on each other as ghouls ripped the living apart. Most publicised of all, the Arcturian order had allowed a few foreign reporters in country, hoping the images of the undead would garner international support. When the order collapsed, the few reporters had suffered a gruesome fate, forced by their undead captors to film Undead atrocities before being dragged into the magehold and never seen again.

“Me and my cameraman were the only survivors.” The reporter confirmed.

Trimmel was about to ask a whole load of questions, almost no one had gotten out of there alive. How in the world had a reporter and his cameraman gotten out alive when hundreds of thousands of experienced soldiers and civilians were doomed. The Dread league had immediately solidified their lines on the modern Arcturian borders where they remained today, monitored by the Griffon empire. So how in the world had this pony and his cameraman managed to cross miles of dead ground and get past the roving hordes of Vamponys.

“Yes the cameraman was recording the whole time, yes the tape still exists, yes Grover VI has it, yes you can probably request a clone of it, yes it will probably be denied.” the reporter answered pre-emptively.

Swinging the conversation back on track, the pony flicked the tape recorder back on “So you had just began to tell Chrysalis the invasion plan, what was the plan?”

Trimmel gave a snort, amused by the pony’s slick manoeuvring of the convoy back on topic. He leant back and crossed his forelegs “Well its easier to explain how I told the generals under my command. We were in a bunker…”

2 months after meeting with Chrysalis, 3 days before the second invasion

Trimmel stood over a large map of the frontline with Equestria, generals and officers surrounded him as he laid out the second invasion plan to them. The army heads listened intently, each waiting to hear what role they would play in the initial battles.

The room they stood in was slightly cramped and wasn’t the most comfortable. But it was secure, this particular room was a cleared-out storage room in one of their border forts, fort EB-211, and shielded by meters of solid concrete.

A cloud of smoke had pooled near the ceiling and circled the single lamp which illuminated the room. The 25 or so assembled lings and few Olenians from the three main branches of the military were almost all smoking, be it pipes, cigarettes or cigars, they were almost all adding to the cloud in the ceiling. Trimmel was among the few without, his own discarded in an ash tray just a moment ago.

“It starts in three days.” Trimmel began loudly to the room “the attack will begin with wing week, our friends in the airforce will fly a week of sorties against the pony forces and target their logistical infrastructure. At the same time, General Lunason will begin a bombardment of Equestrian positions on the border. Some 20 thousand guns in all will keep up a continuous rolling bombardment for 5 full days, it will be the single largest artillery barrage in recorded history.”

General Lunason was probably the youngest Changeling or Olenian in the room. At just 25 years old, the artillery commander was a somewhat unpopular choice of leader. But he’d proved in the ongoing war that no one could match his understanding of artillery. As head of the Royal Vestiopolis artillery corps, he was the head of all divisional artillery corps, and it would fall to him to coordinate strikes between the regiments.

“On the 5th day of this attack, General Larynx and the 5th army will begin their diversionary offensive out of Vanhoover.” Trimmel pointed towards the extreme right of the changeling lines.

The 5th army had encountered some trouble withdrawing a few months ago, and had ended up digging into positions around Vanhoover. The troops had held their ground and found the area to be well suited for a prolonged defensive battle. They were the only salient still across the old border with Equestria and in the perfect position to launch an attack. Larynx himself was also a good choice, the general was the poster boy of the Heer, loved by his men and well-liked by the media. He had a personal charisma that Trimmel and Synoval just lacked.

His 5th army also had a very high number of Olenian soldiers in its ranks. During the invasion of Olenia, the general was known by the Olenians as being very fair on prisoners of war. Later when he’d served as an advisor to the protectorates crown, he’d helped modernise their army and become quite well liked by the Olenian soldiers and generals. Olenian soldiers worked better under his command than any other Changeling in the Heer.

Larynx was also a component and reliable leader, easy to work with and capable of an extended independent command. While slightly unremarkable in his career compared to the other generals, his steely disposition and reliability made him an indispensable general.

“General Larynx and the 5th army have been reinforced with 4 divisions of Panzers and 6 light panzer divisions from the Olenian protectorate, they will be tasked with drawing as many Equestrian forces onto their offensive as possible to make way for the main thrust. General Haakon Lurswig from Olenia will command the panzer forces in this sector.” Trimmel gestured to Larynx and the Olenian next to him.

“To go along with this, we’ve started a buildup of: inflatable tanks, aircraft mock ups, and in this area several fake bases. Our airforce friends will let equestrian recon aircraft through the defensive screen to see the supposed buildup, and agents in equestria will push their high command towards the buildup. This should hopefully culminate in the Equestrian army diverting many of its reserve troops and response armour to stem this attack. 5th army and its attached armour should be heavily engaged with the Equestria army by the time of the main offensive 2 days later.” Trimmel explained in depth as his aids pushed around models on the map for effect.

General Fultoni raised a hoof into the air and drew Trimmels attention. Trimmel swivelled his eyes and locked them onto the other General who now began to speak allowing Trimmel to read his lips. “What sort of casualties can 5th army expect?”

Trimmel cast his eyes over to General Larynx who sighed “Depends on how many of their reserves we absorb. I expect around 5% KIA with a total of 15% casualties. But if we absorb the full weight of their counterattack…” Larynx paused and silently winced at the mental numbers “KIA could be up to 15% with some 35% casualties.”

A wave of unease passed over the room. Those were easily the highest casualty figures anyone had heard on the entire southern front, and that was just for a single regional offensive. The northern frontline against the communist griffons did regularly see upwards of 30% casualties, but they were close range battles in extreme conditions. Given that Northern force was also made up of Brigade sized formations and not Division sized, it meant that less lings actually died.

Scanning his eyes around the room as his wings fluttered, Trimmel noted the cool understanding in the room. They all understood the stakes of this attack, even if they didn’t like it.

The first invasion, while initially successful, was a rush job. Units weren’t at their rally points when the invasion began, areas of command were poorly defined or overlapped, logistics weren’t set up properly. Every Changeling and Olenian here knew that this time it had to be perfect, otherwise they were first on the chopping block, be it from Chrysalis or the vengeful equestrians.

With no more questions forthcoming, Trimmel continued. “The main thrust will come here and here. Straight through the Frozen Butterfly Forrest’s. Generals Pharynx and Roland will lead the 12 panzer divisions in 2 columns through crystal lines. Kampfgruppe Pharynx will proceed east to Quebuck before splitting into two groups, group 1 will establish a new line while group 2 under lieutenant general Peiper will proceed south and cut the railways out of the crystal empire at Hedgewarts and Chicoltgo. Kampfgruppe Roland will cut west after their initial drive and aim to cut off and encircle elements of the Crystal fire army and whatever units of Stalliongrads revolutionary guard are in the area.” Trimmel continued, when no objections or questions were raised, he continued again.

“General Lore will take the 1st Jaeger army through the breach created by the Kampfgruppe and set up a perimeter behind the frontline to secure their flanks while the 4th engineer corps under General Erebidae will begin construction of a road across the area. The 1st deep penetration and infiltration regiment will accompany them and begin to cut all equestrian supply lines available. Meanwhile the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 6th armies will begin a general assault on the frontline. While initial resistance can be expected, the pony forces will easily break under the pressure and begin a managed retreat.” Trimmel continued.

As he was about to keep going, one of his aids tapped him twice and gestured off to his left. It was the signal for the deaf Changeling that someone out of his line of sight was trying to talk to him. Craning his neck left, he saw the ever-cautious general Araxis begin speaking to him.

“How can you be sure the Equestrians will break so easily; they’ve had months to prepare and entrench their position. They won’t just leave after we fire a few shells at them.” Araxis argued.

The Changeling was known for his caution in battle, having received an injury long ago, he’d stopped leading from the front and prefered his meticulously planned set piece battles which he deemed as far safer. However, Araxis was still a good leader and level headed under pressure.

Trimmel actually made sure to place Araxis next to his more hotheaded and reckless generals. The cautious Araxis often managed to balance out his wildcard generals and smooth over ruffled feathers. But he wasn’t well suited to high command, he just lacked the initiative to be a truly great general.

“Our informants in the Equestrian military have revealed that the units manning their frontline are already suffering from supply problems. When the supply lines to the crystal empire are cut and the railways to Canterlot bombed, the Equestrians will have to give ground or suffer the greatest military catastrophe in history; either way, we win.” Trimmel huffed.

Satisfied with the answer, Araxis nodded and seemed to shift back into the crowd and out of sight. Seeing that Trimmel was scanning for anymore questions, General Uptrich raised a hoof for Trimmels attention. Flicking his eyes over to the other ling, Uptrich started to speak as well.

“How will we be reducing any pockets we create, is it up to the frontline troops or do we have an active reserve for it?” The inflexible general asked.

Uptrich was a fine leader, good for leading infantry and arguably the Heer’s best logistician. But he was inflexible and lacked creativity, totally unsuited to independent command. He’d never deviate from a plan, even if it was a matter of life or death. However he did bring up a good point, almost every single unit seemed to be somewhere on the frontline.

“Marshal Synoval, who isn’t joining us today, is currently overseeing the final formation of the army of the interior. This group will be acting as our active reserve for the foreseeable future. The attached PanzerGrenadiers will oversee the reduction of any created pockets under General Bit.” Trimmel nodded and pointed towards the centre of the map.

“Wouldn’t General Vect be a better choice?” Uptrich asked, confused at the absence of the Panzer leader. Although the comment did cause General Bit to turn his head and glare at Uptrich.

Trimmel bit his lip, fangs digging into the flesh there and nearly drawing blood. General Vect was dead as of yesterday. The generals communist leanings were tolerated by Chrysalis and Trimmel, but his recently uncovered connections to the Thoraxian resistance had sealed his fate. With Trimmels approval, Vaspier had Vect commit suicide by being raked with machine gun fire in a bathroom.

“General Vect won’t be joining us, he was assassinated yesterday by the Thoraxian resistance.” Trimmel lied through his teeth, it wasn’t even very convincing. The generals around him all knew about their comrades opinions on communism, it wasn’t exactly difficult to piece together what happened.

As the uneasy silence permeated the room, Trimmel decided to break it by coughing before continuing on “our objective with this offensive is to advance onto a new defensive line stretching from Quebuck in the north to Prancisco in the south. We’ll hold there and build up our logistical infrastructure, give the men a chance to rest, then make another drive east towards the crystal city itself.”

“What sort of timeframe are we working with?” General Cardon inquired.

“5 weeks.” It was general Qwiksis who replied for Trimmel.

General Qwiksis was a strange one among Chnageling high command. He was promoted under Trimmels insistence and made a general just before the war broke out. Qwiksis had been a brigade commander see before, aggressive on the field, but unremarkable in his career. The ling was however a very talented coordinator and had a knack for organisation. The other ling also had a good memory and sharp mind.

Although officially a general, Qwiksis acted more as a glorified secretary for Trimmel at this point. He translated the Marshals sometimes vague commands into written orders and made sure arrived to their intended recipients. Qwiksis was crucial for coordinating between the various generals and Chrysalis herself. Occasionally he was called Trimmels shadow, but the Hivesmarshal knew the value of a good Chief-of-staff and was always quick to defend him.

“We’ve built up enough resources for a 5 week push. The main issue is fuel, our domestic production is up and those new Synthetic refineries keep on pumping, but it’s not enough to sustain a continuous push.” Trimmel explained.

It was general Uptrich who threw the next question at Trimmel. Unsurprising given his affinity for logistical matters. Whatever could be said about the ling, his troops never went hungry, and his guns never went silent for lack of ammunition. It was almost a shame that Trimmel couldn’t assign him to manage all of the Heer’s logistics.

“Why only 5 weeks? At our predicted levels of consumption, we can maintain combat for 3 full months.” He asked. The General did bring up a good point.

General Qwiksis was fast to shoot down the infantry leader. Sometimes there was something of the rivalry between the two, the Chief-of-staff perhaps seeing it as encroaching on his turf. “You haven’t factored the airforce into that, add them and you lose a month. We need to maintain a reserve for obvious reasons, defence, manoeuvring and the like. But half of the available fuel is reserved for the navy, Admiral Mimic is going to undertake raiding operations again, and Admiral Lysander is anticipating an Equestrian sortie at some point during the offensive.”

A series of groans sounded throughout the room. Admiral Lysander wasn’t particularly loved by the Heer, a relationship which went both ways. His fleet had a debatable impact on the war so far, and the absurd amount of fuel he’d requisitioned time and time again had caused some issues for the vehicles of the Heer.

Another point of contention between Admiral Lysander and the army came with his naval infantry. Initially, Lysander had been loaned infantry from the Heer for amphibious operations, it was an arrangement which everyone was fine with.

But Synoval, on his own initiative, had withdrawn all infantry from Lysanders command for operations elsewhere. As the navy was just days away from undertaking a major amphibious landing at Las Pegasus, the decision understandably outraged him. In a rare moment of unity between the surface and submarine fleet, Admiral Mimic joined his protests.

The naval branch had then established its own naval infantry branch independent of the Heer. They were solely under navy jurisdiction and couldn’t be moved without the admirals approval. The Heer had obviously launched their own bout of protests, but they fell on deaf ears. Chrysalis stepped in a ruled that the Kriegsmarine could fields its naval troops, dubbed the Seebataillon’s.

Relations between the Kriegsmarine and Heer had remained frosty ever since then. There was almost no trust between the two of them, the navy and army simply refused to cooperate after the incident. Squabbles over resources were an unfortunate norm.

Trimmel personally had no problem with funding the navy. Having never actually met Lysander or Mimic, he also had nothing against either of them. Privately he’d scolded Synoval after he withdrew the infantry, and publicly remained silent on the issue. In the eyes of the Hivesmarshal, every ship the equestrians commissioned meant 100 tanks weren’t shooting at the Heer.

Trimmel shook his head and cast the thoughts away. The Hivesmarshal used his magic to draw a pipe out of his top pocket. The pipe was one already stuffed with tobacco and lit, as the various personalities and officers in effect watched, Trimmel put it back in his mouth and started to tamp down on it with a tamper he also heard in his magic. After a few moments, he dropped the tamper and leaned towards the nearest person in the room.

General Pagala, the pink changeling with a love addiction, picked up the closest box of matches and lit Trimmels pipe. The Marshal nodded in thanks and started to puff on it. The smoke rising to join the haze created in the room. “Is everyone clear on the wider plan?.” He asked, briefly taking the pipe out with hoof.

“Good, now then, let’s get onto the finer details…” Trimmel announced

Author's Note

So first of all, I thought Trimmel was older and went to immediately correct myself.

Second of all, feel free to comment and get into contact with me, I'll answer any question anyone has.

Also, this is the chillest I plan for this story to be. The rest of this should just be war and conflict in various forms. I'm going to be jumping between Changelings a bit as well, so sorry about that.

Breach The Celeste Line

General Pharynx sat in the commander seat of his command tank, the Panther was his vehicle of choice, and what a fine tank it was. The General scanned the horizon ahead of him, a horizon he’d learned ever minute detail of over the past few weeks. The white, snow-covered hills and planes of the Crystal empire lay before them.

Having had a role in planning the panzer assault, Pharynx had chosen this area as the location for the breakthrough. Tactically there was nothing nearby, but the area was perfect tank country and thinly held by a few Equestrian and New Mareland brigades. Strategically, it was perfect for a breakthrough, and they would be able to easily develop a breakthrough and advance towards the nearby roads and railways supplying the frontline troops.

The crystal ponies were good soldiers, determined and suited to the arctic environment they were fighting at. Despite being few in number, the Crystal ponies were very well equipped and provisioned, arguably the best equipped troops on the pony side. They were also led by Flash sentry and Shining Armour, two very good generals who were willing and able to carry out total defence.

Pharynx and Trimmel had recognised that Crystal Empire troops had been the largest threat faced in the war till this point, resisting doggedly and launching determined counterattacks which often drove the Changeling back. The two had agreed that the Crystal empire would be their main focus in this campaign, reducing their combat potential and knocking out the Crystal empire was of the upmost importance for this campaign to succeed.

Pharynx glanced down at his pocket watch, held in his magic, waiting for the last few seconds to tick over before they began their attack. Behind him, 6 full veteran panzer divisions waited, they would be the first over the border. A few miles to his right, General Roland waited with an equally sized Panzer force, ready to drive for his objectives as well.

As much as Pharynx wanted to launch the attack now, they’d be torn to shredded by their own artillery. Despite 5th army having already begun their attack, the artillery barrage continued elsewhere along the line. Even now, shells and rockets continued to fire for effect on the hill Pharynx intended to smash 6 Panzer Divisions through.

The dull thrum of artillery, ever present this last week, suddenly stopped. Still airborne shells continued to crash into the hillside ahead of them. Pharynx continued to stare at his pocket watch, at exactly 11:00 am, the explosions stopped and all was silent. Silence wasn’t good in war; silence meant a storm was coming. Luckily, Pharynx was that storm.

The Changeling general let out a solitary sniff, he looked down at the engraving on the back of the watch. He hated himself for this killing every day, but he had to do it, he couldn’t bear the sight of the starving nymphs in Vestiopolis anymore; the rationing on love which left families alive on the bare minimum. Thorax’s own methods just weren’t working, he’d stood by him, he’d supported and helped him; but it just wasn’t producing results. He’d finally said goodbye to his brother when his harmonic movement turned violent.

Dressed in a leather jacket and grey officers hat was the stock image of a Changeling general, role he embodied. The general slipped a pair of headphones and microphone under hat and adjusted it briefly. Then he said words he’d been waiting months to say “Kampfgruppe, Advance!”

The driver of his own tank pressed his hoof down and the tank rumbled forwards. Behind them, the column also made to advance and followed their iconic commander leading the charge. The rumble of tank engines and the churning of mud filled the air as the vaunted tank force advanced along the disused track.

Pharynx in the lead tank led it over a line of snow covered rusty barbed wire as they officially crossed onto the Equestrian side of the border. The column continued for a few more minutes, the gun crews and commanders keeping their heads on the swivel as they scanned for any pony activity. The formation crested the hill and looked into the valley beneath them.

With the amount of craters from the artillery barrage, the terrain in front of them appeared more like the moon than the field it once was; the icy and snow certainly didn’t help the appearance either. The land ahead had visible Equestrian activity on it, a camp seemed to be set up some 5 miles away. Trucks and cars, concrete pillboxes and foxholes were immediately visible.

Taking his binoculars and scanning the camp, it was exactly as expected, an infantry brigade. What was surprising however were the campfires, ponies were just milling around and chatting, had they not noticed the thousands of tanks bearing down on their position?

“4th brigade 9th division form up on me. Unexpected thrust formation.” Pharynx told the company over the radio “load HE rounds. 2nd brigade, form on my left and swing behind them; 3rd, form on the right and hit them in the right.”

As Pharynx led his tank forwards as the brigade formed up around him. Changeling panzer Brigades were half the size of their griffon counterparts, only having 60-70 armoured vehicles making up its main body. But they fielded them in larger numbers than their griffon counterparts.

The brigade reforms were one of those Pharynx had made during the war. When he led the Panzers in the rearguard action, the general had cut every brigade in half so he could cast a larger defensive net. Their divisions still had the same number of armoured vehicles as before, but they were more dispersed now. It also reduced pressure on roads and railways for travel and supply. Overall, it was a vast improvement over their previous organisation system.

The brigades formed up as they rolled towards the Pony camp. The formation was loose to avoid enemy gunners being able to exploit their close formation, but its tactics were drilled to perfection. The past few years of combat had made sure that everyling knew their place in the battle. They all knew exactly what they needed to do and where they needed to be for this to work.

Trucks towing howitzers made up the first group to stop, they’d devised a system to have the gun off the truck and firing at close range in just 1 minute. Then the Panzers would stop and shell the enemy while the IFV’s, halftracks and Assault guns raced forward. The assault guns would stop at close range and takeover shelling duties from the tanks who would advance past the assault guns. The PanzerGrenadiers would dismount and create breaches in the enemy line which the panzers could then exploit. It’s a tactic which had worked on the Equestrians many times and hopefully would again.

The Equestrians finally seemed to take notice of the advancing Changeling tanks as they were just 1 mile out. Through his binoculars, Pharynx could see the ponies start to scramble to defensive positions and clear the immediate line of fire. Water and snow was thrown on fires as the Equestrians started to dive into cover and arm themselves.

The Panzer brigade’s own artillery had detached a half mile back and now opened fire. The crash of Howitzers unleashing their steel rain was one which never got old, the shells screamed overhead and reached their targets in moments, detonating among the equestrian camp. Snow and dirt was throw into the sky, sometimes bodies well.

The Equestrians however were unusually fast in returning fire with their own guns. Muzzle flashes briefly made the day brighter before shells crashed inside his formation of armoured vehicles. Then the AT made itself known. Moving like tracers, antitank rounds whizzed through his formation, punching holes in the air. But the AT was poorly sighted and already being single out by his own artillery.

Pharynx’s own command tank had its own unique radio system. His own radio was automatically tuned to several different frequencies used by his formation, all he had to do was turn a dial (one he’d covered with bits of paper with formation names written on) and he could communicate to most formations under his command. The Changeling flicked the dial to 4th brigade and addressed his troops.

“Panzers halt, fire for effect, aim for the AT!” He shouted.

The tank and others around him stopped as the rest of the assault guns and PanzerGrenadiers raced by them. Pharynx switched the radio back to his own tank intercom. “Gunner, traverse 15 left! AT 400m.” He ordered.

The turret rotated towards the target before the gunner’s voice came over the intercom “target on, AT 400!”

“Fire!” Pharynx yelled.

“Firing” the gunner replied.

The 45-tonne war machine shook violently as a shell was forced out of its rifled turret. The High Explosive shell travelled at breakneck speed across the chaos of the battlefield, travelling over the assault guns and PanzerGrenadiers until it reached its target. The shell landed ever so slightly short of its target and struck the ground before it detonated in the ground and sent dirt and chunks of grass flying.

“Shot action HE, no traverse, elevate 3 degrees!” pharynx shouted over the intercom as an Equestrian artillery shell landed on the front of the tank next to him.

Its treads were blown off as the vehicle was rendered immobile, but the crew would be fine, especially with the commander’s hatch being closed as it was. As if to prove him right, the turret rotated and fired a shell at its own target. After a moment, the hatch popped open and the tank commander appeared, radio held to her mouth as she barked orders to her crew.

“Target on, AT 400.” Came the reply from Pharynx’s gunner.

“Fire!” The general yelled

“Firing” the gunner replied.

The shell arced over the Assault gun which had now joined the shelling. It crossed the Halftracks, now empty of PanzerGrenadiers, it crossed the Equestrian line being stormed by the changeling troops. And finally, it arrived at the AT gun. This time their aim was true. The HE shell detonated right on the AT platform. The Equestrian guns own shells cooked off as it was engulfed in flames. The AT piece went up in a fireball as it was destroyed.

Quickly scanning the Equestrian formation, Pharynx spotted Changeling tanks inside the camp. They were the tanks of 3rd brigade. As he was about to order his own panzers to advance, his radio crackled. His lieutenants knew not to call him if it wasn’t important, so he always paid attention whenever they did

“1 I.C 3rd brigade to command, come in.” a voice asked.

Pharynx clicked on his mic as he replied “go ahead.”

“The Equestrians have thrown in the towel, they had literally nothing on the right. They’re encircled and surrendering.” The officer on the other end reported.

Without replying, Pharynx switched his radio to transmit to all the commanding officers in his unit and addressed the officers “all elements hold fire, enemy neutralised. 3rd brigade 9th division, secure the prisoners and rejoin the vanguard. General Peiper, have your division process them.”

“Aye sir.” Replied two voices one after the other.

“9th division, move out in 5 to bypass the enemy camp.” Pharynx ordered “we’ll move east towards the airfield.”

Switching his radio to internal, the general addressed his crew “take 5.”

The hatches on the front opened as two changeling heads appeared out of the top. The driver and foregunner getting a breath of fresh air. The tank started to role forwards around the outside of the Equestrian camp, the various vehicles of his brigade made to follow him.

As if in sync, Pharynx and his fore-gunner pulled out a pack of cigarettes and began to light them. The fore-gunner lit an another and handed it across to the driver with his magic. Leaning back, Pharynx glanced at the gunner and loader who sat back and started to drink from their canteens.

“Good shooting.” He complimented.

“Thanks.” The gunner replied taking a swig of water “you don’t need to shout fire by the way, I’m right here.”

Choosing to ignore the comment, Pharynx gave the camp a sideways glance as they passed by it. He could see Ponies rising out of foxholes and crawling from tents, meanwhile his PanzerGrenadiers organised them into groups and bound them with wire. A few stayed on the ground, unmoving, red stained snow being a grim indication of their fate.

Some officer stood atop a light tank shouting through a speaker “Do not resist, do not move. You will be processed shortly; all prisoners will be treated in accordance with international law! Medics will arrive shortly to treat your wounded; any Pony medics make yourself known and you will be allowed to tend to your wounded.”

The officer looked a bit like Peiper, it definitely wasn’t, but the resemblance was there. He was worried about Peiper, the Changeling had a few loose screws which stopped from getting to high command. The tanker had committed a few atrocities during the war, but nothing which Chrysalis wasn’t willing to overlook. The real trouble was when Peiper would be detached and without Pharynx always looking over his shoulder, then things could get bad.

His tank came to a stop besides the camp, glancing back, the brigade was reorganising into its regular formation behind him. The loader, who was relaxing by the shells, looked up at Pharynx and asked “so what’s the damage?”

“Tank next to us lost its treads but is otherwise ok.” Pharynx gestured behind them “The Grenadiers will obviously have taken a few casualties, other than that we seem ok.”

Glancing back, Pharynx could see most of the formation was ready to move on. However one could never be sure, the artillery trucks in particular could take a while to get ready to off. Leaning down and switching his radio to the brigade, he decided to just ask. “Are we ready to move off?”

After a few moments, a voice came through. It was impossible to tell who it was, but only officers of a certain rank were on the channel, so it had to be one of them. “We’re all good back here.”

Taking his cigarette out of his mouth, Pharynx threw it over the side of the tank into the mud. “Alright,” he started over the Kampfgrupper wide channel “continue advance towards the airfield, Lehr devision, swing north and take the hills overlooking it.”

A round an officers replying copy returned, but the general paid it little attention. The equestrian camp wasn’t expected, but it barely even classified as a speed-bump with the resistance they’d put up. The airfield would be the first of their objectives on this armoured thrust, they could get supply’s flown in, wounded flown out, and have their fighter and bomber cover continue to support them.

The Airforce’s primary fighter didn’t have the best range, it wasn’t bad, but also not great, so airports would need to be secured to maintain air cover. What long range fighters they did have were all tied up escorting the bomber offensive deeper inland. Taking these strategic points intact was vital to the operations success. They’d outrun their air cover in the first invasion, something Trimmel was determined not to do again.

The armoured column advanced past the Equestrian camp and headed straight for the enemy airfield, it was a good half-hours drive away, so they might as well get comfortable for the trip, especially as no major resistance was expected. The tank crew started to chat amongst themselves as their general took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the western horizon.

He could see the distant specks of General Roland’s armoured column. The unmistakable flash of tracers and shells indicated they were also meeting some initial resistance. But it was nothing the vast armoured column couldn’t handle, Roland was also a veteran tanker, it would take more than a few ponies with guns to stop him.

Beyond that, the horizon was filled with nothing but smoke and dirt, the result of the largest artillery bombardment in world history being unleashed. He remembered the shelling well, many artillery crews had actually taken casualties from the sound of their own guns. Pharynx had once even visited an artillery corps involved, he had to keep his mouth permanently open to try and keep an equal pressure and stop his ears bleeding.

In all fairness to the Ponies, and the communists in particular, they’d offered a spirited resistance in well placed counter battery fire. But the sheer volume of Changeling guns and their bombers picking off unconcealed guns decided the victor after just 2 days of the artillery duel. Nothing could stand against 20 000 guns, General Lunason worked magic that way.

Pharynx let his crew chat as he himself let his guard down. Recon flights and intel indicated that the Equestrians didn’t have much behind the actual frontline, and reports from the south showed that 5th army was absorbing a good chunk of the communist reserve. The only thing they were nearly clueless about were the Crystal Empires forces.

The Crystal empire wasn’t in the Equestrian command, they also stayed almost totally infiltrator free. So the Heer was largely in the dark over the location and plans of the Crystal empire. They had to use a lot of guesswork with their opponent. A thin line of pickets manned the frontline in places and they regularly patrolled forward, but the main bulk hadn’t been seen since the retreat. Trimmel believed they were holding further inland on better ground, anticipating the collapse of the existing frontline. Pharynx was inclined to believe his assessment.

Although their location was unknown, the possibility of suddenly running into a massive enemy force was always in the back of his mind. But if they were going to make an appearance, it wouldn’t be so soon, perhaps in a day or so. When they did encounter them, it would be a horrific grind. An unstoppable force meeting an unmoveable object, casualties would be high.

Pharynx knew full well that the battles wouldn’t be decided by tactics, hell their offensive plan boiled down to hit them really hard and brute force your way through any resistance. This war would be decided by logistics and transport infrastructure. If the fleet of trucks supplying either side failed to get the shells, bullets, rations or fuel needed to the frontline troops, they’d loose regardless of whatever miracles were pulled on the battlefield.

As they drove on towards their objective, Pharynx cast his mind towards the war in general. The industrial side of the conflict was stacked in the Equestrian side on paper. Holding far more factories capable of military production which were dispersed across several nations, they could far outproduce the Changelings in theory.

But the war economy was highly standardised by Trimmel before the war, every Changeling, Olenian and bear unit used the same equipment. Everything used the same components and was interchangeable. The Equestrian production army meanwhile was equipped with weapons and tools from 14 countries on 3 continents, each one using different components and requiring different ammunition. Not all Equestrian units were equipped in the same fashion, standardised units only made up some 50% of their armed forces.

With the Equestrian economy tied down in producing replacement parts for 1000 different pieces of equipment, the Equestrian production capabilities were only slightly larger than Changeling’s and far more manageable. With the vast tech advantage that the Hegemony had managed to maintain, it kept the playing field close enough to even.

“How are we looking on fuel?” Pharynx asked the driver.

Briefly pausing his quiet conversation, the driver checked the gauge “We’re at 3 quarters.”

Pharynx nodded in understanding and let his crew go back to talking. One problem the hegemony had battled with was fuel inefficiency. Their Panzer IV and Panther tanks were incredibly fuel inefficient, partly the reason for their dire fuel situation a few months back. Thank the stars they’d never put the King Tiger into mass production, the design faults and fuel huger of that steel behemoth made him shudder in horror.

The tank had caused quite a stir, Chrysalis demanded it be produced, Trimmel demanded they never enter production. One of the far too frequent arguments between the two which nearly caused a schism took place as the two larger than life personalities clashed. Eventually they’d compromised, a single brigades worth of King Tigers would be produced for the Queens guard, and were under Chrysalis command. Last he’d heard, they’d been assigned to the army of the interior.

Just ahead of them, shielded by a few rises in the terrain and clumps of trees, was the unmistakable shape of an airfield. Pharynx pulled out and checked his pocket watch. Just 10 minutes out from the airbase. The taker closed the pocket watch and briefly stared at the engraving on the back ‘to the best big brother’. Pharynx gently placed it back in his pocket and lifted the radio, fiddling with the frequency until he found the right one. Lifting the receiver up to his mouth, he spoke into it “General Pharynx requesting fighter sweep of Dodger airfield.”

Some 2 squadrons of fighter aircraft had been in a holding pattern on the Changeling side of the border, massing just outside Equestrian radar range. Their time to target was 5 minutes and they’d have just 5 minutes for a fighter sweep of the defences. They’d then hold position over the airfield and clear out any air cover the Equestrians had. The idea was that the end of their strafing attack would be perfectly timed with Pharynx arrival, for maximum shock value.

Fiddling with his radio again, Pharynx addressed his leading Kampfgruppe “4th Brigade, breeching positions. Lehr division, continue bypassing north and cut them off. Restrict shellfire to AA and Flak emplacements, we need to take the airfield intact.” Dropping his radio, he looked at the driver whose head was still poking out of the front. “Stop us here”

The tank rolled to a bald as a wave of confirmation passed over the radio, but the general ignored it. The general would try to fight as many battles as possible with just his lead division, conserving the strength of his reserves and Peipers forces until they were truly needed. Hopefully he’d be able to prolong the offensive potential of his force this way.

The breaching formation was one developed on the fly during the first invasion, now standardised. Two tanks would lead columns of mounted PanzerGrenadiers towards the perimeter fence or barbed wire of the airstrip, engineers would dismount and cut a way through so the tanks could pass through. Once through, the tanks would let the IFV’s pass them by and provide cover fire as they dashed to the objective.

The armoured brigade formed up behind him, assault guns and vehicles not needed in the attack talking the opportunity to refuel. A company of PanzerGrenadiers in their armoured vehicles meanwhile lined up behind Pharynx’s panther and the other vehicle behind them. Similar groups appeared on their left and right. A few engineers, recognisable by the shovel patched on their uniform, climbed onto Pharynx’s tank and the one behind.

At that moment, as the group formed up to attack, a wave of fighters passed over them travelling nearly at a dive. Tracers arced up from the ground ahead of the tanks and up towards the attacking aircraft, some flak cannons even started popping off fire at the fighters. Those pilots had guts that’s for sure, nothing on this planet could get Pharynx to go into battle in a flying aluminium death trap.

As the fighter sweep began, Pharynx glanced back at the forming up vehicles. He judged it to be good enough and that the rest would be able to catch up as they went. “Brigade advance!” He ordered into the microphone.

The breeching columns began to role forwards towards the Equestria airfield. Tanks leading 4 groups of PanzerGrenadiers in the attack, a number which would almost certainly be overkill. Equestrians rarely garrisoned their airfields with anything other than AA units.

Unholstering his officers pistol, Pharynx placed it down on the turret hatch, within easy reach if he needed it. He then gripped his hooves onto his officers machine gun and readied himself. Heading straight into a clump of trees, Pharynx could see the flashes of gunfire and hear the shouts of ponies drowned out by piston engines. A few shadows passed over them as something exploded.

Then his tank broke through the trees and onto the flat ground in front of the airfield. The airfield was a mess, the unfolding anarchy of an air attack was something one never got used to. Bofors, flak guns and a few Pom Pom guns were spraying at the fighters which were pulling out of a drive at the far end of the airstrip. Equestrians were running between buildings and shouting as aircraft of various types burned on the ground. Despite the attack, most aircraft seemed to be unscathed and a few were even taxing to take off. Above the airstrip, a couple of apparently already airborne Equestrian aircraft were starting a dogfight.

Quickly glancing left and right, Pharynx noticed the other tanks of the breaching party had also gotten through the tree line. The general lifted up his radio and clicked it on “start spraying the airstrip, take out those AA guns.”

Almost immediately, the machine guns on the leading vehicles started to spray lead across the concrete strip towards anything what moved. Pharynx clicked the intercom on and addressed the gunner “hold main, load HE, go coaxial.”

without replying, the coaxial machine gun attached to the turret started to spray bullets into the area ahead of them. A few Equestrians were riddled with bullets and died where they fell, their guns briefly fell silent as they were caught between the land and air. Then they reorganised and returned fire.

Machine-guns were the first to respond, tracers arcing towards the vehicles and bouncing off the armour of the vehicles. Pharynx ducked his head down as bullets whizzed past. Then the heavier weapons started to fire, AA guns turned on ground targets were surprisingly deadly. The heavy flak guns in particular could pose a serious threat if the Equestrians managed to turn them around.

“Gunner, traverse 20 left, flak gun 200m!” He shouted into the intercom.

The turret turned towards the target as Pharynx grabbed his 50 cal in his hooves and started to fire back at the Equestrian machine gun positions. The turret halted as the gunner reported “target on, flak 200”

“Fire!” He shouted.

“Firing.”

The whole tank shook as the high explosive shell left the rifled barrel of the tank at breakneck speed. The glowing shell passed across the battlefield and towards the flak turret, surrounded by sandbags and foxholes. It landed at the base of the gun and detonated, sending the battery up in a blaze.

“Nice shot! Driver halt” he ordered through the intercom.

The tanks had reached the outer layer of wire which surrounded the airfield. The general looked back to the engineers taking cover in the tank behind him, shielding themselves from the fire. Although one of them had been nicked by shrapnel and was bleeding from his cheek, they were all in good condition.

“All tanks, pop smoke 100 up.” Pharynx ordered the breaching vehicles over the radio.

Acting automatically, the gunner and loader of his own vehicle loaded and fired smoke up the airfield. The other leading tanks also fired smoke, creating a brief and thin smoke screen between them and some of the Equestrian defences. Fire continued to be sprayed thrown the smoke by both sides, and the foxholes, pillboxes and guns still on this side continued to put out fire.

“Get us a path!” He shouted at the engineers.

The changeling engineers picked up smoke grenades in their magic and tossed them as far as they could forwards. The metal cylinders hit the mud and started to spew out the white gas. Now confident in their adequate screen, the engineers jumped off his vehicle and sprinted forwards to the barbed wire some 15 meters ahead of them. Although it theoretically put the engineers in more danger, the distance allowed the tanks main guns to safely be used, providing more cover fire for the lings with the most dangerous job in the battle.

From his heightened position on the turret, Pharynx could still somewhat see over the smoke screen and continued to call out targets and orders to his crew. “Nose hold, you’ll hit our own boys. Loader, AP shell. Gunner traverse 5 left, pillbox 60m.”

A minor adjustment was made by the turret before the gunner replied “target on, no sight, pillbox 60.”

“Fire!” He shouted.

“Firing.”

Pharynx barely noticed the tank shaking as the shell left the barrel and headed towards the pillbox. The glowing shell hit the ground just ahead of the pillbox and sent a wave of dirt up into the air. The general scowled and sprayed the pillbox with his 50 cal as he barked more orders at the gunner. “Action shot, no traverse, increase range 10m.”

“Target on, no sight, pillbox 70.” Came the reply.

A tracer flew within an inch of the generals head and nearly took off his hat. Forgetting he was leaning out of the turret, Pharynx slipped slightly further down into the turret hatch. Any one of these bullets could have made his end sudden unceremonious. “Fire!” He shouted.

“Firing.”

The shell tore a hole through the air and reached its target. The armour piercing shell put a hole straight in the top of the concrete pillbox as it travelled inside. The explosive warhead ignited and spelled the immediate end of the occupants. Ammunition cooked off and butchered anypony who was unfortunate enough not to have been instantly killed by the AP shell.

Pharynx watched light flash within the concrete construction before tracers stopped exiting off it. The general let out a breath and silently prayed for their souls. He was about to shout another target out when an IFV crossed his light of sight. Following its path back, he saw that the right team had managed to cut the wire and were streaming onto the airfield.

“Tanks hold, friendlies are on the airstrip.” He ordered through the radio.

A single engineer came running through the thinning smoke and towards his own vehicle. The engineer banged on the side and yelled up at the general who glanced down at him “you’ve got a clear path.”

Nodding in thanks, Pharynx ordered the driver forwards, and the tank rumbled to life. As they passed the breach in the wire, the general saw the engineers lying in the mud, holding rifles in their hooves and pointing them forwards. A couple of them were face down and didn’t appear to be moving, he’d ordered them to die.

Once through the breach, his tank pulled to the left, the one behind him went right. They orientated their turrets across the airstrip, but held their fire for fear of hitting the friendlies now in front of them. The IFV’s and halftracks holding PanzerGrenadiers sped past Pharynx’s own vehicle, banging their 30 cals at the unseen enemy. A few who had already dismounted jogged forwards and spread out across the airstrip.

The changeling general fell back into a sitting position in his turret. Another victory for his decorated Panzer corps, another advance for the Heer, another set of lives sacrificed for mud, another day where he wondered what his brother would think of him now.

Hopefully this war would end soon, one way or the other, he didn’t really care anymore. He’d do his job for the Heer, but nothing more; he was just numb to it all at this point. Great if they won, great if they lost, he just didn’t care.

Author's Note

So I now realise that I totally forgot to mention that the pony defensive lines are called the Diarchy lines, the Celeste and Luna lines; whoops I guess. The chapter name is in reference to the first gulf war where the Iraqi defensive line was called the Saddam line. Next chapter is going to focus mainly on Kampfgrupper Peiper (yes named after the WW2 German general) and its ordeal. After that, it's navy time with Lysander and Mimic.

The comment by PonyDragon gave also me a funny idea, so I might include a random epilogue or separate short story (featuring my terrible attempts at humours) where the Heer establishes its own naval units just to annoy the navy for establishing their own land forces. I may also throw in the air force for good measure just because.

Feel free to ask any questions in the comments and I'll get back to you as soon as.

73 Easting

The Crystal empire was a horribly quiet battlefield, almost silent in fact. The silence was never good in war. Kampfgrupper Pharynx had advanced meeting almost no opposition the entire way, only the occasional: minefield, rearguard special forces teams and armed civilians had greeted them, no grand army had made itself known. The Crystal Imperial Army wasn’t anywhere, not even elsewhere on the growing frontline.

5th army meanwhile had stalled briefly as they were hit by a flood of mainly Communist troops. After absorbing the initial wave, the 5th army had counterattacked and made good progress south. It was the same all along the line, Changeling forces were making slow and steady progress into Equestria against heavy opposition. But the ponies were wearing themselves down, and something in their line would soon buckle.

The Crystal empire was a totally different story however, the largest tank force ever assembled on the continent had advanced over empty ground to their objectives, barely firing a shot. They’d all expected the hell which the Reich had faced at the battle of the Adaclava against a combined Aquelian Republican force. The largest tank battle in the world history which had lasted for day and claimed at least 100 000 lives across its 100 mile battlefield.

Kampfgrupper Peiper advanced towards their final objective of Chicoltgo, still in the hellish silence of the early morning. The 16th Panzer division and the Lehr division also had yet to encounter any actual resistance, only minefields and empty villages. Even the villages and city’s were empty, the civilians apparently having been evacuated months prior beyond a few nuts with shotguns.

The Lehr division was somewhere to their right, travelling parallel to reduce pressure on the roads. The 2nd brigade of his own 16th division meanwhile was several miles ahead of them, bypassing towns and villages on their way to Chicoltgo and acting as the advanced guard. Aerial passes had confirmed that Chicoltgo was still inhabited, even if the population was much smaller than their occupation census indicated.

Generalleutnant Peiper lay back in his tanks turret, relaxing as they passed through a village. Like everyone other village they’d encountered so far, it was totally abandoned. It was the last village they’d have to go through before arriving at their final objective of Chicoltgo, and the perfect place to take a rest to refuel. Panzers consumed vast amounts of petrol, the supply chain keeping his tanks running each day was more than triple the size of his actual fighting force.

Clicking on his radio, Peiper ordered the leading 16th panzer division to stop. Halting in the village square, Peiper glanced around and took in its sights. The village was a brick village, mainly populated with single story buildings. The square however mainly had 2 story buildings, some with boarded windows, all blacked out and abandoned. Peiper stepped out of his tank and landed with a thud on the cobbled road of the village. A light snowfall continued to fall in the frozen north and stain the ground white.

Peiper stretched his legs before trotting around for a moment, the snow crunching under hoof. Trucks started to roll up next to the tanks and Changelings dismounted as they started the process of refuelling the tanks. The tank crews and PanzerGrenadiers also dismounted and started to mill around and stretch their legs, hours at a time in a cramped tank made the crews jittery, it was good to get out every once in a while.

Peipers crew opened their own hatches on the tank and got some air, the gunner even climbing up and sitting in his commanders position on the turret. Raising a hoof, the Generalleutnant made a throwing gesture at the gunner. The changeling lit up his magic and levitated a box of matches and a pack of cigarettes out, before tossing them to him.

Peiper caught the two boxes in his magic and nodded in thanks. Around him, PanzerGrenadiers were jogging around and marching into the square. The Changeling took out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. He stuffed the matches and cigarette inside his inside box scanned around. A pair of officers approached and saluted the Kampfgrupper leader. “Your orders sir?” One of them, a PanzerGrenadier asked.

“Take your men and secure the village, set up a perimeter and patrol towards Chicoltgo. Avoid becoming decisively engaged if enemy forces should be encountered.” Peiper told him. The officer tapped his hoof and marched away. Looking at the other officer, Peiper addressed him “bring up the fuel trucks and top up the tanks. Tell the commissary that dinner can be served to the troops when we enter Chicoltgo.”

The other officer tapped his hoof and marched off in a different direction. Breakfast had been served several hours ago, they’d be arriving in an hour or two at Chicoltgo, perfect time to have tea. The troops would certainly be ready after the days travel and setting up of defences around their objective.

The Generalleutnant scanned the abandoned village centre, trying to spot any sign of life. Sighting an abandoned antique shop, Peiper took off at a trot towards it. He’d always been an antique collector, some bought from less than reputable sources, but all suitable extravagant.

The Generalleutnant was halfway to the shop when all hell broke loose. The fuel truck next to the leading tank, his own tank, detonated. Burning liquid fuel spilled inside the open top hatch of the Tiger IV tank and caused the vehicle to explode as its ammunition cooked off. For just a moment before the ammo detonated, he could hear his crew scream.

The explosive force of the detonation threw Peiper to the ground as chunks of metal from the exploding tank flew out in every direction like that of a frag grenade. All the nearby PanzerGrenadiers and tank crewmen milling around were shredded by the shrapnel, chunks of flesh and blood splashed out and wet the cobbled roads and stone windows.

Peiper himself was wounded as a piece of burning metal fragment passed across his cheek and created a deep cut. The disorientated officer stood up and noticed that everything was blurry, and the only sound was a ringing. He barely even registered the tracers flying through the air and thudding into a building, the crack of rifles and drone of machine guns also eluded him.

It wasn’t until a PanzerGrenadier grabbed him, dragged him and practically threw Peiper against the second tank in the line that he was dragged back into reality. The PanzerGrenadiers charged a building on the far side of the square under the cover of the next panzer in line spraying the upper levels of the red brick building.

A rocket flew out of the top window, whizzing through the air and letting out a screeching sound. The rocket propelled grenade impacted on the second panzer in the line, detonating on the forward hull. The panzer suffered no damage and continued to spray the buildings upper levels once the smoke cleared.

The PanzerGrenadiers meanwhile reached the door, the first ling there sprinted into the door at full speed and blew the door off its hinges with the impact force. The rest poured into the building as internal gunfire, muffled by the walls, started to fill the building. Silhouettes in windows falling and rising as the close quarters battle raged, flashes of gunfire and smoke from grenades pouring out of openings.

Peiper looked up to the turret and shouted at the commander over the gunfire and chaos “hold fire!”

Glancing down at the Generalleutnant, the tank commander must have told his crew to stop shooting over the intercom as the various machine guns on the vehicle stopped spitting bullets into the upper floor. The fighting outside stopped as everyone waited. Silhouettes of figures fighting in the windows could be seen, close range gunfire and melee.

After a few tense seconds, a top window creaked open. Every gun in the square traced itself on that window, but no one fired. Then a changeling appeared through the window and shouted “We got them.”

A collective sigh of relief went out among the troops and support personnel caught outside. Retaking command of the situation, Peiper shouted from his position “this isn’t over, secure the village on the double!”

The professional soldiers of the Heer immediately took off down the various roads and alleys of the village, kicking down doors and smashing windows as they checked every building. The air of calm and relaxation disappeared as the veterans of many battles were kicked back into action when their reflexes took over.

Peiper collapsed against the tank he sheltered behind and raised a hoof to the deep cup on his face. Blood poured out of the cut, but the wound itself didn’t seem too serious. The corpses strewn around the area certainly showed that he’d gotten off light, wasn’t dead at least. Honestly the ambush wasn’t that bad, soldiers could be replaced easily as bullets.

The Generalleutnant stood up and tried to wipe the blood off his cheek, but found the liquid wouldn’t stop flowing. Medics started to appear and tend to the wounded and dying, and Peiper saw the PanzerGrenadiers dragging several ponies out of the building. Both dead and alive, the ponies were being pulled. Those who were still living thrashed and squirmed as they were roughly thrown around by the Heer soldiers.

A medic ran over to Peiper and began to check him over “are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No just the cut on my cheek.” He let out a hard breath.

The medic lifted up a rag in their magic and started to wipe the blood off his face. The female changeling examined the cut before letting out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, and it’s not deep enough to warrant stitching. So I’m just going to clean it and put a bandage on.”

“Thanks” the Changeling officer replied “this’ll scar right?”

“Obviously.” Came the short reply.

The medic took out a flask of rubbing alcohol and doused a fresh cloth in it. Then she pressed it against his face and only the wound. Peiper winced in pain and let out a sharp breath from between his teeth. The medic laughed, much to Peipers annoyance. Heer medics were terrifying lings, their motto? ‘You don’t die without our permission’. Generally, you never argued with a Heer medic unless you wanted their permission to die.

Off to his left, three ponies were forced to their knees by a group of PanzerGrenadiers. The three ponies were bloodied and bruised having obviously received some rough treatment from the changelings. Peiper barely even noticed that however, his eyes were laser focused on their identity of crystal ponies and the uniforms they wore.

“So I’ll just bandage this up…” the medic continued, apparently having been talking this whole time.

The Generalleutnant waved a hoof at the medic “excuse me for a moment.”

Getting to his hooves, the Generalleutnant trotted over to the prisoners and readied himself to ask them a few questions. Peiper arrived at the prisoners and felt mild satisfaction when the soldiers stood at attention. The ponies meanwhile looked up at him with pure hate. Peiper had mostly fought on the Crystal front during the war and had gained somewhat of a reputation after ordering the Mt Ellsberg massacre and several smaller mass executions.

“What unit are they with?” Peiper demanded from the closest PanzerGrenadier.

“3rd Crystal Imperial infantry, its a long-rage penetration unit, special forces. They go by the name ‘Chindits’.” The soldier explained.

“Special forces eh.” Peiper looked down at the three crystal ponies. None of them were bound and physically restrained, held down only by the threat of a bullet to the skull. “Unfortunately that means that they probably won’t talk no matter what we do, at least we know there’s a special forces brigade somewhere around here.”

The three surviving ponies scowled up at Peiper, probably wishing their glares would burn hole through his skull. Peiper smirked, deciding on their fate, he switched to Equish to torment the captives “drain them for all they’ve got then shoot them, let’s not waste our time with prisoners.”

Peiper turned and took a few steps away. The mechanised infantry behind him let out an evil chuckle, loading rifles and priming spells on their horns. Readying himself to hear the screaming and pleading of the tortured ponies, draining did hurt a lot after all. He really did love their screams, ponies were never quiet when they died.

Instead of screaming and agony, Peiper heard a single shout in Equish “wait I’ll talk!”

Peiper turned and saw the centre pony looking right at him. A wicked smile appeared on the Changelings face “really! I believe that means you’ll be the first ever pony in the special forces to spill the beans.” He laughed in Equish, allowing the pony to hear him.

The pony turned his head and looked down at the cobble road “spare my men and I’ll tell you where the brigade is.” The pony sounded truly defeated.

Peiper trotted towards the pony. He stood over him and pointed a hoof at the pony. A pair of PanzerGrenadiers strode over and roughly lifted the pony to his hooves. The pony dusted himself off. “I’ll spare them, but the information comes first.”

The pony nodded in defeat and reached a hoof into his coat pocket. Peiper chuckled as he levitated his cigarettes and matches out of his jacket. Taking one out of the box, he balanced it between his lips before and was about the strike a match before looking at the Crystal pony again. Peiper froze, his mouth dropped open and the cigarette fell loosely onto the snow-covered road beneath him. A delicate snow started to fall on the town, making the whole scene seem serene and peaceful, it might have been in any other situation.

The Crystal pony held a grenade in his hoof, its pin falling to the ground. None of the PanzerGrenadiers had reacted either, a couple of them were lifting the other ponies up, and the other two were joking about the weakness of ponies. It was just Peiper and the Crystal pony staring at each other.

The Generalleutnant expression was one of abject horror, he could almost feel the explosion before it happened. He just froze to the ground and found himself unable to move. The Crystal pony meanwhile smiled and muttered “bitch”

Then the grenade detonated. Peiper felt no pain as fragments of metal passed straight through his body, just shock. One metal fragment found his neck and the brain stem. As he collapsed, he recognised the sound of gunfire and the blurry black shapes of other changelings. By the time he hit the ground, Peiper was dead.

2nd Brigade 16th Division 4 miles ahead

Generalleutnant Josef Dietrich lay out of the commander hatch of his tank, an exceedingly rare Maus heavy tank. His Brigade was moving in two columns slowly down the single road towards Chicoltgo, taking their time and in no real hurry. No ponies had made themselves known yet, it was all quiet, unlike the hell 5th and 6th army were grinding through.

Some Changelings were even starting to say that the Crystal ponies may have even withdrawn all the way back to their capital, planning to anchor their line on the city’s bubble shield. Dietrich was inclined to agree with this assessment, where else could they be?

The Changeling Generalleutnant despised his current position in the Heer, it was beneath him. The former Queens Guard was from one of the most noble families in Vestiopolis! How could he be reduced to serving alongside these commoners eluded him. One of his rivals must have sabotaged him, separating him from protecting their ever-glorious queen.

Just about the only thing they understood was fear, he regularly had to draw lots and shoot some random grub just to keep the rest in line. Soon enough he’d be away from here, just as soon as the honourable General Pharynx approved his proposal to execute the entire division. The chief of staff had assured him that Pharynx had seen the proposal after all, surely he would agree with his assessment.

The worst of them was Oberst Joseph Von Radowitz, that commoner scum seemed to take a certain delight in arguing with him. He seemed to think the executing their soldiers was too harsh, going to far as to report the behaviour to the righteous HivesMarshal Trimmels chief of staff. Obviously Dietrich had secretly blocked the report, even if it was totally false, it would still be considered a mark on his record.

He couldn’t just kill that snake Radowitz unfortunately, he’d somehow weaselled his way into the eye of their glorious queen, something about heroism in the line of duty or something. With murder and assassination out of the question, he just decided to continually sent the troublesome Oberst on the most dangerous missions available. The campaign had proved sorely lacking in the particularly deadly kind, so Dietrich contented himself with sending him on advanced scout missions, anything to get his bothersome complaints away.

Oberst Radowitz was currently 2 miles forward, leading a few armoured platoons on some stupid patrol towards Chiocoltgo. He’d even given orders for him to take the city if enemy resistance was lacking, hopefully he’d die in the endeavour. Chances of that were unlikely though, the Ponies were probably never going to show up.

Dietritch’s leading brigade continued forwards, just meandering along in no real hurry to be anywhere. Sure they had been ordered to make the best possible speed, but what was the real hurry anyway? Soon enough, the Equestrians would fold and they’d be in Canterlot, why would their speed even matter.

The day, formerly filled with the sound of chatting changelings and the rumbling of vehicle engines, was broken by the sound of distant gunfire. Instead of subsiding a few seconds later, the distant gunfire was joined a minute later by cannon-fire in increasing volume. That was unusual, cannon-fire was a bit excessive to use against civilians or militia.

Dietrich lit up his magic and switched on his radio to address the leading 2nd brigade “brigade halt, someone find out what’s going on up ahead.”

The tanks rumbled to a halt as the brigade stopped where it was. Changeling PanzerGrenadiers riding on tanks or in halftracks hopped out and started to lazily stretch their legs and spread out. They weren’t in any rush, or had any reason to worry about security. The sounds of the battle ahead of them only got louder, now he thought about it, the sounds were coming from the general direction of Oberst Radowitz recon platoon. Maybe the rat had actually found something?

As if to confirm it, a radio operator ran up besides his Maus tank and saluted “sir, Oberst Radowitz reports major enemy position. He requests reinforcements sir!” The small radioling saluted and shouted stiffly, she was obviously a new recruit, acting with manners right out of training.

At that moment, Dietrich could have kissed her. Radowitz had stumbled across something with a good chance to kill him and needed help. What sort of commanding officer would be if he didn’t aid his underlings. The Generalleutnant scanned the road ahead of them, it would be such a same to lose any vehicles to mines on the way there.

Smirking, Dietrich turned to the mare “very good, tell Radowitz we’re on the way.”

The mare saluted stiffly and strode away as Dietritch clicked on his radio again “2nd brigade, sweep the road ahead for mines.”

Dietrich laughed, that should delay his brigade for a while and be relatively believable to any higher ups who questioned it. With any luck, Radowitz would be dead within the half hour, and 16th division would be in Chicoltgo by nightfall. Today would be a good day for Generalleutnant Josef Dietritch.

It was at that exact moment that the tank at the front of the column detonated following a whistle. The turret flew into the air as its ammo racks exploded. Fuel drums tied to the side burst and erupted into flame as a wave of heat expanded out in every direction. It was a terrifying incident, the heavily armoured Panzer III being taken out by a single shot from an unknown location could be bad for the whole brigade.

If it was a minefield, it was a threat, but not a huge one. The real threat came from the whistling sound just before the leading Panzer detonated, that indicated some kind of Anti-tank gun. Reacting quickly, Dietrich clicked on his radio on to shout at the leading Brigade “Coil Coil!” He barked at them.

Without knowing where the fire was coming from, the only option was to put guns in every direction. The tanks and armoured vehicles started to roll in different directions and form circles of five and pointing their turrets out in every direction. It was a common and easy defensive tactic used by every changeling panzer.

Even as they formed up, AT shells started to whiz around them and crash into the ground. On shell bounced off the tank just ahead of him, another dug into a tank somewhere further back and destroyed it. This was a major enemy formation, Dietrich estimated at least 15 guns. The enemy fire also seemed to be concentrating on just 1 tank at a time instead of dispersing their fire.

“Pakfront east!” A Changeling voice shouted over the radio.

A Pakfront? But that was a griffon and changeling tactic, massing anti-tank guns and focusing on individual vehicles from concealed positions. It was a highly effective tactic which griffon infantry divisions had often used to drive away enemy armour. But why were the Equestrians using a griffon tactic, better question, how did they even know about it?

“Muzzle flashes west!” Another voice shouted over the radio. At least 30 guns, Dietrich estimated.

“Pakfront south!” Yet another voice screamed. At least 45 guns he once again reassessed.

They were caught in a caught in a killing field, no question about it. Three points of concentrated fire, each highly organised and picking them off, it was a trap. Dietrich shouted various orders into the radio, trying to coordinate fire. They were now sitting ducks in their stationary coil. It was a catastrophic strategic blunder of epic proportions, not that he’d ever admit that.

The thrum of tank guns returned fire in every single direction, aiming to suppress and destroy the guns. PanzerGrenadiers tried to make their way towards the guns, but found themselves similarly suppressed by Equestrian machine guns and rifles. A vicious small arms duel began, bullets bouncing off the dirt and armour of tanks.

At that moment, a Changeling radio operator arrived at his tank. It was the same mare from before, she’d apparently run through the chaos of the battle to reach him. The mare banged her hoof on the side of the take, trying desperately to get Dietrich’s attention over the screams of battle. The changeling officer glared down at the mare “What!” He shouted.

“Report from the back, Generalleutnant Peiper’s dead, you have the Kampfgrupper!” She shouted up at him.

“Fuck me!” He exclaimed, the Generalleutnant clicked his radio on again “all units, form Panzerkeil and drive towards the Pakfronts.” He glanced down at the radiomare “call air support, we need…”

Then an anti-tank round found his tank. The shell found a chink in the Maus heavy tanks armour and made its way inside. Improperly stored ammunition was caught by the shell and joined the fireball which consumed the vehicle. As flame rose through the vehicle, cooking his crew alive, the queens guard saw and felt a bright flash, before it was all over for him.

Several minutes earlier, 4th platoon 2nd Brigade 16th division.

Oberst Radowitz peered through the light snowfall, his eyes locked onto a lone house ahead of him. Amble Cottage the map had called it, it was one of the landmarks his navigator was using to direct the armoured platoon. Lighting up his magic, he grabbed a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck and lifted them to his eyes. Something just wasn’t right.

The building sat just before the crest of a small ridge, an almost serene place to live in peacetime. Dry brick walls, snowy roads, a great view; reminded Radowitz of his farm back home. Maybe he’d buy this place after the war, be nice to settle down in. would certainly be a nice place to retire to, build some greenhouses off his war savings and grow grape vines for wine, sounded like a lovely plan.

But that nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him, the house was beautiful and the horizon empty, but his senses just screamed danger. He’d run scouting missions before, they all gave jitters and restlessness, but this was different. It wasn’t jitters, it was just that feeling which all soldiers developed after years on the frontline; a seventh sense for detecting danger. Even his men were on high alert, the din of chatter having died down. Radowitz scanned the house again, something was just wrong. It was probably nothing, but on the off chance it was something…

Radowitz looked up as the sky, clouds were massing over them, and snow starting to fall. Wind was picking up and starting to obscure vision, a battle in this worsening weather would have to be at close range and deadly. Casualties could be huge for both sides, possibly even seeing the total annihilation of one of their forces.

The Oberst clicked his radio on “platoons halt.” He ordered the vehicles.

His three platoons were an unusually large group, made up entirely of armoured vehicles. Infantry would normally be assigned to a unit like his, but they were bogged down in mud some miles back. Non the less, his formation was still a powerful one containing capable vehicles and experienced crews. Their armoured vehicles

Two STUG’s, two Panzer IV and four Panzer III’s made up the armoured centre of the formation. The numbers came from their 12 attached Luchs light tanks (sometimes called IFV’s) and three Hummel artillery guns. At 23 armoured vehicles, his three platoons constituted near half a panzer brigade; although having far fewer heavy tanks than would be expected. Radowitz himself commanded from a STUG IV, he was trained as an assault gun leader after all.

The armoured columns stopped almost immediately, their well-maintained breaks working perfectly to stop the multi-ton vehicles. The crews of the vehicles waiting with rapt anticipation for their Oberst’s orders. Despite waiting with total discipline, the commanders did also understand the importance of working on their own initiative. If one his tankers saw something, they’d shoot.

His formation moved in two columns spaced 30m apart, Radowitz’s assault gun led the left column, the other assault gun leading the right. The house causing so much unease was closest to the right column “Column 2 lead, could you point your gun at that house.” He ordered.

“Roger” came the reply from the other vehicle.

The assault gun fired up its engine and ran its treads in opposite directions. With STUG’s having a fixed gun, the entire vehicle needed to rotate to face the target. The vehicle turned on the spot until its heavy gun was pointed right at the small house. After a moment of silence, gunfire erupted from the house.

The gunfire was noticeably automatic, then an anti-tank rifle joined the crack of the guns. Lead bounced off the slowed armour of the changeling tanks as the armoured vehicles held their fire. The automatic fire and AT rifle told Radowitz all he needed to know, UPF forces. Unless his vehicles got close enough for their bazookas to penetrate, they weren’t in any real trouble.

The Oberst clicked his radio on and calmly addressed his platoon “pop HE in there would you.”

After a second’s delay, the second STUG fired a high explosive round into the house. The shell exploded inside the house and blew its windows out. Plaster, brick and wood intermixed as its walls caved in. The small and once serene cottage was reduced to a pile of smoke rubble by a single shot.

“Hold fire.” Radowitz calmly ordered. Without a house, he might be able to get a cheaper price for the land at least.

An explosion rocked the ground next to them and sent up a wave of snow which obscured Radowitz’s vision. Despite this, his tank commanders acted independently and quickly to neutralise the threat. Calls of a bearing and distance echoed over the radio before the drilling of an auto cannon and echo of a single shell filled the air.

“Target destroyed.” One of his commanders reported.

With the air around him clearing, Radowitz grabbed his binoculars in his magic and pointed them at something flaming near the base of the house. He very briefly registered the sight of a panzer III’s barrel smoking before focusing on the target. His heart dropped, it wasn’t an AT gun, that was a tank. “Looks like a tank.” He quickly reported to the platoons.

One of the other commanders from the second column confirmed his worst fears a moment later “I can see it better, it’s definitely a Crusader. Looks like its hull down.”

The formation remained stationary in the absence of orders, Radowitz himself debating his options. It wasn’t unusual for random militia or rogue civilians to take occasionally pot shots at them with rifles and shotguns, so they weren’t any stranger to getting shot at. AT rifles and automatic weapons were a worry though, the position and armament of their attackers were similar to UPF patrol pickets. The presence of a tank was also frightening, Crystal imperial forces loved to concentrate their tanks in a way similar to the Reich, tanks were never alone.

Glancing up again, Radowitz judged the weather. The wind had picked up and snow was falling by thicker. The powdered snow was being whipped up into a haze and obscuring vision even more than before. Visibility was a poor, and the noise made by the wind made any audial recon completely impossible.

Advancing ran the risk of running into an armoured enemy force, outnumbered and in horrible conditions, they would either be annihilated or have a brief advantage. Holding here on the other hand would mean reinforcements, but any nearby Crystal Imperial artillery could zero in on their position and a strong counterattack could throw them back.

Taking in a sharp breath, Radowitz click his radio on and made his decision “battle stations, go tanks lead on Panzerkeil.”

As a wave of confirmations came by the radio, the 6 panzers of the formation slid out of column and made a wedge formation linking the two groups, the 12 Luchs tanks formed an identical 2 width wedge behind the leading panzers. The two STUG’s meanwhile stayed where they were, needing space to rotate if they wanted to fire. Last of all, he three Hummel’s sat some 20m the STUG’s, the self propelled guns would be very vulnerable in a battle. Their best bet would be to stay back and pick targets off at a distance.

“Where are we D?” Oberst Radowitz asked his driver through the intercom.

“Just crossed into 73 easting of Chicoltgo.” Came the reply from his driver. The young mare was a nice ling, an aspiring race car driver drafted into the tank corps following the great retreat.

Radowitz clicked his radio on “PR, report enemy contact at 73 easting, armoured contact included.”

The Pirate Radio was a lovingly nicknamed Panzer III in his platoon. The tank had been outfitted with a more powerful radio than the rest of the vehicles in the group, and informally designated their communications vehicle. Although Radowitz doubted Dietrich would do anything about it, it was his duty to report contact regardless.

“Platoon advance, keep it slow.” Radowitz ordered.

The armoured vehicles slowly made their way towards the crest of the ridge, maintaining their formation as they went. Their Oberst only prompting them a couple of times to stop drifting and maintain a constant speed. Maintaining their formation, the armoured column advanced at a slow speed, the crews now fully alert. Radowitz himself traded his officer’s hat for a helmet, and gripped his machine gun with both hooves.

The leading panzers crossed over the ridge and disappeared briefly from the view of their leader. A few seconds later, the STUG’s crossed the lip of the ridge. When the tank levelled out, Radowitz could only balk at what was before him. The panzers had completely stopped, he could see their commanders frozen, unsure what to do.

Just ahead of them was a dense defensive concentration of UPF forces. Blockhouses, trenches, ditches, tanks, batteries and light vehicles dotted the area ahead of them at just 500 meters out, that’s how close they were to each other. Close enough to shout insults at each other, with no cover between the two groups. The banner of the Crystal empire flying high over the defences, proudly defiant to the changelings.

At an immediately glance, Radowitz could tell they had more tanks than him. He saw firefly’s and Crusader’s, both strong vehicles, the front group of which were rotating their turrets on his vehicles. The ponies were barely even surprised, reacting immediately as small arms fire began to pepper his tanks.

Making his split-second decision, Radowitz clicked his radio on and barked a deadly order “independent targeting, fire at will! Charge them! PR report we have been decisively engage at 73 easting and need immediate reinforcements!”

The armoured vehicles of his group made their standing start and accelerated to their top speed and charged the crystal ponies. Autocannons mounted on Luchs tanks sprayed in a constant deafening drone, pausing only as the crews chucked new belts of ammunition on. Tracers from high calibre machine guns crossed the closing distance like deadly fireworks. Two of the leading panzers knocked out a pair of Crusader’s making up the line closest them.

Not to be outdone, the ponies returned with a ferocious barrage. Shells from Firefly and Crusader tanks landed among the charging changeling vehicles, some bounced off armour, and a few exploded on the hulls of the leading tanks. AT fire from batteries punched holes in the air and tracers from machine guns aimed high at tank commanders and gunner optics. An AA gun even depressed its four barrels low enough to spray airburst rounds at the Heer forces.

Holding down the trigger on his 50cal and spraying a blockhouse, Radowitz shouted at his gunner “take out that AA gun!”

Wordlessly, the driver accelerated one of the STUG’s treads to turn it to face the AA gun. A HE shell left the barrel as screamed towards the AA gun as AP rounds smashed into the ground where the vehicle would have been if it hadn’t changed course. The HE shell found its mark as the gun went up in a fireball.

The Assault Gun commander continued to spray his 50cal at muzzle flashes and smoke. It was an almost out of body experience as Radowitz shouted targets and the STUG’s swerved and fired off shells at the various targets. All the while, bullets bounced off the armoured vehicle and explosions buffeted the exposed officer.

With the range only decreasing, the ferocity of the engagement increased. Crystal Ponies threw grenades as the weight of fire only increased. One armour piercing shell flew right by Radowitz’s STUG moments before a wave of heat and terrible screeching of bending metal hit him from behind. Without even looking around to confirm one of their Hummels was gone, Radowitz directed his Assault Gun to knock out the battery responsible.

With the changing panzers now inside the first layer of the defences, order and communication completely broke down. With every vehicle taking fire from at least 3 directions and the Crystal Imperial tanks continuing their ferocious return fire, any sort of strategy other than bash their armoured vehicles against the opponent was completely worthless with the range sometimes being as short as throwing distance. This range was confirmed by Crystal ponies trying to throw grenades into the open commanders hatch of a leading panzer. Radowitz watched the silhouette of the tank commander catch the grenade in his magic and throw it right back at them.

The panzers in the frontline were absorbing an enormous amount of punishment, far more than the designers intended. One of the tanks had its turret bent at an impossible angle, the crew meanwhile threw grenades out of open hatches and chucked fire out from pistols and a panzerfaust. Another Panzer was on fire, but still moving forwards and throwing out a spirited return fire. By some miracle, all 6 of the panzers were still moving and shooting.

The Luchs IFV’s meanwhile were taking the punishment far worse off, one vehicle had its treads blown clean off and was rendered immobile. The autocannon still spitting lead into a pillbox as the commander leant out of the turret, clutching a pistol in his magic and firing at a foxhole. Radowitz’s STUG passed by the immobile IFV and briefly made eye contact with its commander, the two nodded at each other before looking away and continuing the battle.

One particularly unlucky Luchs was being pounded by rifle grenades from crystal infantry, the crew inside probably being thrown around like maracas. Crystal ponies had attempted to scale another, clutching satchels of explosives and going for the hatches in a show of unfathomable bravery. The vehicle commander, not to be outdone, clambered out of the turret and was wrestling with one of the ponies, striking him repletely with a tire iron. Despite this, the ponies comrades still went for the open hatch with explosives, Radowitz had put a quick halt to that with his machine gun.

As he reloaded his machine gun, Radowitz watched in horror as a Crystal Pony exited a foxhole and sprinted at another one of the Luchs. Clutching a bazooka, the pony reached the tank and pressed the barrel against its side. The resulting blast blew the suicidally brave pony to pieces, but also destroyed the Luchs. Its turret being blown into the air by the resulting secondary explosions. Radowitz’s assault gun swerved around the wreck and shook as another shell was let loose by the gunner.

Amid the brutality of the battle, one thing was however clear, the changelings were winning. The momentum and tenacity of the Heer vehicles and their crews had driven a wedge into the Crystal imperial defensive formation. Additionally, only 2 of the Changeling tanks had been fully destroyed, sure some were immobilised and others stripped of weapons, but only 2 actually fully destroyed, and one of those was a basically useless Hummel. The Crystal Imperial tanks and vehicles meanwhile were mostly burning hulks or abandoned by their crews.

Finally, the heavy return fire subsided as the last Crystal Pony tank was destroyed. The Crusader, whose gun was blown in, had accelerated a driven right into the side of a panzer, nearly flipping it. With the front of the tank mangled and its commander being shot, the vehicle was effectively destroyed. The remaining infantry were scattering into the hills in every direction or throwing up their hooves in surrender. Radowitz clicked on his radio and ordered the Platoons to halt and cease their fire. The gunfire stopped as everything suddenly became very still.

A few drivers from the panzers and Luchs quickly clambered out of their vehicles, rifles in hand, and ran about the surrendering ponies. They began to coax the Crystal Ponies out their foxholes and trenches and line them up in front of the tanks. Radowitz would never dream of gunning down prisoners, but it was best to keep the prisoners where he could easily see them.

One fun sight was the Luchs commander who had clambered out of his turret was still alive, clutching a tire iron in his magic and looking no worse for wear. Glancing back, Radowitz realised that they were on the other side of the defensive concentration, having smashed right down the middle. The absolutely anarchy was totally overshadowed by his surprise at the two Hummels still behind him. One was riddled with bullets, the other’s superstructure was totally wrecked but somehow still intact.

A pair of very smug looking gunners waved at the officer from the ruined open superstructure. Both of them hefted rifles and were surrounded by the spent bullet casings. The normally stoic officer whose personal motto was ‘don’t let them see the real you’ actually laughed and shouted back at them “I legitimately thought you’d died.”

“Yeah we did too.” One of the crewmen shouted back “AT shell blew our gun and ammo off before they exploded somewhere behind us.”

Radowitz laughed as he looked forward at the panzer commanders. He could see and hear them laughing in disbelief at what had just happened. Had they really just driven right through an impossibly dense defensive concentration of Crystal tanks and come out nearly unscathed? Yes, yes they just had.

One of the leading panzer commanders lit up his radio and let out a deep breath “I’d say there were 25-30 tanks and some 30-40 other vehicles there. Sir, how the fuck are we alive?”

Radowitz laughed over the radio, letting the rest of his men hear his incredulous tone. Before the Oberst could answer, one of the other vehicle commanders piped up “a mixture of divine intervention and 3 inches of steel.”

“And some damn good shooting, I’ll see if I can get us a double ration of schnapps tonight.” Radowitz proclaimed to a collective cheer, even his own crew cheered in joy at the prospect of more schnapps.

The Changeling smiled as he clicked his radio on again “alright let’s make a coil and wait for our infantry to catch up.”

As the vehicles started to form a coil formation, and the pony prisoners were corralled into the centre. The radio crackled and the familiar voice of the PR appeared “err, Oberst?”

“Go.” Radowitz ordered plainly.

“News from command, they say…” The radioling paused before muttering “shit.”

“What is it operator?” Radowitz questioned, now quite intrigued by the apprehension which had dragged itself into the lings voice.

“They say… Generalleutnant’s Peiper and Deitrich are dead, and you have the Kampfgrupper.” The voice said slowly and deliberately.

Stunned for a moment, Dietrich took off his helmet and rubbed his bare head with a hoof before concurring with the radio operator “shit.”

Author's Note

Peiper is based on General Peiper from WW2 (surprising I know).
Dietrich is based on General Dietrich from WW2 (surprising I know).
Radowitz is based on General Radowitz from WW2 (Surprising I know)

The large engagement at the end is based on the Tank Battle of 73 Easting from the first gulf war, specifically the skirmish which eagle troop took part in. While Eagle troop lost no vehicles and took only minor damage in the actual battle of 73 Easting, I upped the anti and gave Radowitz's platoons a lot more punishment. Speaking of Radowitz, he's going to become a recurring character in Operation Alicorn Sunset and we'll head back to him occasionally. The pony who uses a bazooka at point-blank-range, killing themselves in the process is inspired by an American soldier (who's name I unfortunately could not find) who did the exact same thing to a Panzer IV during the battle of the Bulge.

The Commissariat mentioned near the start of the chapter refers to the name of the British logistics and food supplying division of the British army during WW2. The Ponies will also be using mainly British equipment such as Crusaders, Firefly's (the British version of the Sherman tank) and other stuff from boats all the way down to guns. The obvious exception being Stalliongrad who uses Soviet stuff. When/If I finally get around to them in this series, the River Federation will be using US equipment.

Next Chapter will have a brief interaction between Chrysalis and Trimmel after a short time skip of a couple days, before meandering down to fleet headquarters where we'll be getting the great naval battle between the Changeling 2nd fleet and the UFP (United Ponies Front) fleet.

Crickey aye, this chapter was also a lot longer than I expected it to be, so that's fun I guess. I don't plan on this length being a regular thing, I normally try to aim between 4000-6000 words per chapter, and this exceeds that by a margin.

If anyone has questions, feel free to ask them and I'll get back to you in good order. If you have complaints, feel free to complain. I can't think of anything else to type, plus its 1AM for me, so bye for now I guess.

'Intelligence'

Author's Note

So this was going to be the intro to the navy chapter, but it didn't really fit with the theme, and got wayyy to long. So I just decided to make it its own little mini chapter and have it be an in-between thing while I work on the navy chapter. Sorry if you were expecting a longer chapter, that's coming.

This is also a show of the Chrysalis we all know and love. I'm just writing her as able to switch between loveable queen and deranged murderer at the drop of a hat, so that's been fun to write.

Feel free to point out anything I did wrong, and I'll get back to you on any questions in the comments. Cheers.

'Intelligence'

To the Changelings, Chrysalis was the perfect queen who’d led them to greatness. She’d united the hives, modernised the economy and turned them into a military superpower capable of fighting muzzle to muzzle with the greatest empires on the planet.

To the ponies, she was the devil incarnate; the most horrifying enemy to ever face harmony. The queen of all changelings was the monster lurking in the dark and just out of sight. The threat to the equestrian way of life which could consume them all.

To her advisors, Chrysalis either spelled doom or power beyond one’s wildest dreams. Right now, it was probably doom for all in the room. Chrysalis had summoned all her intelligence experts and spymasters into the highest levels of her great tower and sat them silently around a large conference table.

The queen herself sat at the head of the table; the back of her winged armchair silhouetted against the ranging storm outside an entirely windowed wall. Standing just behind her was Hivesmarshal Trimmel, smoking from a pipe; the military officer having brought accusations personally to Chrysalis against these intelligence operatives.

While the intelligence operatives and spy’s sweated and waited in silence, Chrysalis ate her tea. Using various implements and brute force with her own magic, she tore apart a lobster and extracted the flesh from its interior. In between bites, she drank the finest of wines imported from overseas. Not many places to grow grapes in the frigid north.

After watching her eat for a couple of minutes, their great queen tapped her hoof against the table. A section of servants rushed in and cleaned away her dishes in record pace. Then one ling dressed in a fine suit, the queen’s private secretary, presented her with a menu. Their great queen scanned it briefly before making her decision.

“Medium rare manticore steak and a glass of Reich Red.” She told her loyal butler.

The well-dressed butler nodded before levitating over a box of Marelborough cigarettes, the queens favourite brand along with her long cigarette extender and a box of matches. Nodding in thanks, the queen waved a hoof and dismissed him. Kurt Helborg, the renown butler of Chrysalis, perhaps one of the few if only that she fully trusted.

He was a relatively young changeling, perhaps only in his early twenties. He wore a full suit, bowtie and black blazer, like a true gentleling. His position alongside the queen was a highly coveted one, something many changelings had tried to take before. But his position was secure, Kurt was totally loyal to Chrysalis.

His personal relationship with Chrysalis also helped his position, Kurt was a war orphan from the Canterlot invasion and despised Ponies and their harmony. Kurt was also adopted and raised in Chrysalis’s palace following the invasion, he was like a son to the Queen of all Changelings. Being part of her extended family, the two were certainly close. Some even believed that Kurt was being groomed as a potential successor to the great Queen.

“Smoke anyling?” The queen offered out in her magic.

Not daring to say no to any of her questions, all seven of the changelings at the table took one in their magic. Chrysalis then passed around her matches as everyone lit their cigarettes, taking uneasy drags. Finally, it got back to The Queen of all Changelings who lit her own and took a deliberately long drag.

The changelings at the table were right to be scared, they were the seven individuals in charge of intelligence gathering in the Crystal Empire, a job they had failed thoroughly at. With Vaspier briefly out of country, no one could protect them from the Queen. It would doubtful they would even be safe if Vaspier was in country.

“Tea anyling?” the Queen politely asked the table.

A number of small nods and quiet affirmations from the assembled table returned to Chrysalis. Tea could be any number of things, poison being the most obvious. As infiltrators, they all knew spells to detect poisons, but all were very visible. If the Queen spotted them scanning for poisons, that would probably mean a bullet in the back of the head.

Chrysalis waved a hoof and Kurt appeared next to her. It was almost scary how he appeared out of thin air next to her. The butler had a single extended wing he was balancing a large tray on, teapots and cups. The butler gentley poured tea and handed it out to the seven changelings, they were all nervous of the potential danger.

Until the butler poured a cup for from the same pot and levitated it over to Trimmel. The Hivesmarshal took a sip from the cup and thanked Kurt. Seeing that the drink was safe, they all took polite sips of the warm drink and savoured it. They still waited in silence however, praying that the queen would soon get to the point of the matter. All the Changelings knew that at least some of them were going to die, they could only pray it wasn’t them.

“You seven are personally responsible for the greatest intelligence failure in all of changeling history.” She began “do enlighten me as to how you let this happen.”

The Changeling sitting closest to her stammered briefly before speaking. This was the director of crystal operations and the one directly responsible for the catastrophe. “We simply weren’t given enough funding your majesty, with all the money and resources going to the equestrian operations the crystal division wasn’t give the…”

As the changeling stallion talked, a queens guardling moved to the large windows behind Chrysalis and opened one. Another queens guardling grabbed the director mid-sentence and roughly pulled him to the floor. During the chaos, the other changelings at the table stood up and backed up a few paces in fear. Even Trimmel placed a hoof over his mouth to suppress a gasp, the Hivesmarshall being visibly disturbed by the ongoing events. Chrysalis meanwhile was served her manticore steak and wine, having no outwards reaction to the events unfolding next to her. She even stubbed out her cigarette and placed it gently down.

The queens guardling grabbed the two wings of the intelligence director and roughly ripped them out. The director let out of blood curdling scream as his blood actually began to curdle on the carpet. The guard dragged him over to the open window and threw the director out of it, ignoring the sobbing and pleas of the changeling she held. The guard closed the window and returned to her original position along the wall.

Excluding the queens guardlings, all the changelings in the room were disturbed. The intelligence advisors and operators were so terrified they probably would have run at any sudden noise. Trimmel meanwhile had dropped his pipe and suppressed a gasp, but remained quiet and recovered the quickest from the shock. He picked up his loose pipe from the floor and placed it inside his coat pocket.

Queen Chrysalis started to eat her steak before looking up at the terrified intelligence advisors. She gently spoke when she said “sit.”

Kurt spoke up for the first time as well, not acknowledging the brutal death just like the Queen. He politely held out the teapot in his magic “More tea anyling?”

They practically clambered over each other to get back to their seats, ignoring the question from Kurt. “Now then, Hivesmarshal Trimmel here has accused you of…” Chrysalis paused and glanced back at the Changeling behind her “be a dear and remind me what is was again.” She ordered.

As he stood behind the Great Queen, the butler used both his front hooves to communicate Chrysalis question to in sign language. Trimmel nodded in thanks and gave Kurt a small smile, he was a good kid. It was very rare for anyone, changeling or otherwise to learn sign language, so Trimmel deeply appreciated the extra effort that Kurt had gone to for him.

“My accusation was that Director Nanitic has been embezzling funds from the crystal division.” Trimmel gestured towards the window “although I see he’s already been taken care of.” The Hivesmarshal cleared his throat before continuing “the second part was that 1 member of the crystal intelligence advisory committee began feeding intelligence to the Crystal empire following the strategic redeployment on the border.”

The strategic redeployment, better known as the great, was Trimmels decision to withdraw from the occupied Equestrian territories. Following the retreat, there was a surge of traitors and leaks as officers and civilians thought that the Equestrians might keep going and threw their lot in with them. Trimmel’s subsequent decimation of the Heer’s middle rank assured their loyalty. Vaspier however hadn’t conducted any such investigations, and now Trimmels boys were playing the price.

The Crystal Imperial forces had begun a limited counterattack, against Kampfgrupper Peiper and inflicted heavy casualties on them. Recognisance flights now indicated that the Crystal Imperial army was built on intricate defences exactly on their line of advance, and Trimmel was furious. The Crystal Empire had obviously

“Thank you.” Chrysalis smiled before turning back to the four anxious lings at the table “now then, let’s see if we can’t find out who the little traitor is shall we? I will also say that only one of you has to die, but if we can’t find the traitor, I have no problem in shooting all of you. Let’s get started, shall we?”

A well-dressed Queens guard officer entered the room at a quick trot. Guard Lilac wore the full-dress uniform of the guard, her blue hair tied up in a neat ponytail swished off to her side. In her magic, Oberstleutnant Lilac she held a pack of pictures and letters. She circled the table quietly and handed out pictures to each of the changelings at the table. The intelligence officers looked at the pictures and letters one by one, looks of horror plastering their faces.

The pictures showed the loved ones and family of the various changelings bound and beaten, the pictures were dark, obviously in basements or cells somewhere. The letters were equally disturbing, they were pleas of mercy, of forgiveness, one of them even begged to be put out of its misery.

“As you will notice, these are pictures of loved ones; parents, siblings, children.” Oberstleutenant Lilac explained “If you fail to answer the great Queens’ questions, I order them to be executed. If you are one of the traitors, I order them to be executed. However, if you step forwards now, then they get to live.”

There was total silence for a moment, noling moved as they weighed their options. Then one stood up, the male changeling raised a hoof. His eyes were filled with tears, and he appeared distraught. “Theres one more traitor, I don’t know who.”

Chrysalis smiled sweetly at the intelligence officer “They’ll be told you died a hero.” She then levitated her steak knife over and dropped it in front of the intelligence officer “please see yourself out.”

The changeling bit his lip, then he picked up the tea in his magic as well as the knife. “Thank you, your highness. I won’t let this tea go to waste.” Carrying both the steaming cup of tea and the sharp steak knife, the officer walked strolled towards the door. The two changelings at the door opened it, as the officer walked out without looking back.

As the doors closed, Chrysalis turned to the remaining changelings. “Anyling else?” when no changeling stepped forwards, she sighed “Then let’s get started with the questions. Trimmel, you can go, I think there’s a war you need to command.”

Trimmel, who was able to conceal how disturbed he was by the whole investigation, eagerly nodded “Yes I’ll take my leave now, until next time Chrysalis.” As he trotted towards the door, one of the guards let out a quiet growl at the Hivesmarshals casual and informal use of the Queens name. Trimmel just scoffed “oh grow up.”

As the Hivesmarshal left, he never turned back to see the doors close. He expected to see at least one of those V.O.P.S agents again, so Trimmel mentally reminded himself to ask them how it went. That of course assumed that Chrysalis didn’t just shoot them all, a very real prospect. But such is life, some live and some die.

War on the Sea (Part 1)

Naval High command strategy meeting

“That’s a completely outrageous proposal!” Admiral Mimic shouted as she slammed both her fore-hooves down onto the table.

“If you block this, they’ll be hell to pay!” Admiral Lysander barked back.

“This plan only leads to disaster, we need to cooperate.” Admiral Recina argued back.

“If he’s getting his way, then I’m resigning from high command!” Mimic shouted pointing a hoof at Lysander.

“I’m not giving it up, walk right on out of here and see if I care!” Lysander challenged.

Admiral Recina sighed and massaged her temples with both of her hooves. When her sister, Queen Helvia had asked her to come out of retirement and wrangle the Kriegsmarine into action, she hadn’t imagine it would be so hard. Everything anyling said became a point of argument, and the two leading admirals would sooner shoot at each other than the UPF.

How in the hives had the navy proven so effective beforehand? In four days, they’d produced a single side of paper on how to defeat the UPF fleet, and it wasn’t even good. It was impossible to gain any ground in these pointless arguments, the others were just so petty, and this whole argument did nothing but prove it.

“If Lysander requisitions a bigger chair then I demand a bigger chair as well!” Mimic boomed.

What demoralised Recina the most, was the total lack of reaction from the staff. The conference room was wood panelled, but had a single large window looking out onto a small office space filled with deputies and secretaries. None of them had ever showed any reaction to Mimic and Lysanders antics, after 4 days, Recina understood that it was basically nonstop.

“Why don’t you both get a bigger chair?” Recina proposed, exasperated at their bickering.

“SHUT UP!” Both of them yelled at the same time.

The two changelings immediately turned back to each other and continued their threats “why don’t I just break this chair over your skull, that way I’ll have to get a new chair!”

Mimic stood up swiftly and grabbed her chair in her magic. The submariner raised the chair over her head as Lysander laughed “hit me, you won’t do it!”

“You think I won’t do it? Try me.” Mimic growled jumping up onto the conference table.

Recina slid back a bit as Lysander also climbed up on the table, he also lifted his own chair up in magic and brandished it like a club. Mimic laughed “you’re approaching me, really?”

“I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer!” Lysander jeered.

“You want to fight? Alright, let’s do it! I’ll turn you into glue!” Mimic cried as she lifted her chair even higher up.

Recina felt like she could see a few seconds into the future. The fact that she could realistically see both of them actually going through with this concerned her greatly. She was about to step in and try to talk them down, when the single phone in the room mercifully rang. To the exasperated Princess, it was the perfect out for this stupid situation.

Three sets of eyes locked onto the phone. The two admirals on the table quickly got off and gently placed their chairs down. Lysander straightened his collar as he paced over to it, the admiral straightened his tie and cleared his throat before picking up the phone. Levitating it in his magic, the HivesAdmiral brought the receiver up to his ear.

“Admiralty officer, Lysander speaking.” The HivesAdmiral eyes opened suddenly and he twisted his head around to Mimic and mouthed ‘chrysalis’.

“Yes it’s great to hear from you your highness… yes we’re deep in work, how are you?” Lysander nervously replied. “Yes it is important to prune the branches occasionally… out of curiosity, how many of them did you prune? … That’s, yeah wow… Yes I get that.”

Much to the amazement of Recina, Mimic silently ran over to Lysander. Next to the phone was a single typewriter, Mimic sat down and started hitting random letters with her magic. She reached out a hoof to a stack of paper and began to rustle the paper as loudly as possibly. The sound would almost certainly be filtering through onto the other end.

“Yes we have plans to launch an attack… of course I’ll get them for you now.” Lysander placed a hoof on Mimic which prompted her to sprint across the room and grabbed their single side of A4 with spitballed ideas on.

It was the sum total of their labours, a single side of A4 paper with a series of bad ideas was all they’d achieved after four days. It was depressing really, that this was all they could accomplish. It made Recin question how Lysander had even built the Kriegsmarine into the crack force it was, how in the world did they get anything done with their bickering?

She passed it over to Lysanders magic and he cleared his throat. Recina couldn’t wait to see this. There was no way these two admirals, who’s been at each other’s throats for as long as she’d known them, could bullshit their way out of Chrysalis wrath. The Queen could see through anything, surely she’d see through their antics.

Unfortunately for Recina, she’d severely underestimated the bullshitting skills of the pair. Despite their: bitter feuds, political rivalry and generally hating each other guts, they had the art of pretending they were knowing what they doing down to a fine art. The pair were extremely good at making things up as they went.

“Our plan is to launch mock amphibious landings down the west coast. With the threat of opening up a new front and stretching their forces out, the UPF fleets will have to sortie in order to prevent these landings. At that moment, we hit the formations and defeat them in detail before they can merge.” Lysander explained as professionally as possibly.

Mimic meanwhile kept making general office noises to act as background sound for the phone call. She kept tapping the typewriter with her magic, and rustling papers with hoof. She then put a hoof in front of her mouth and started to mutter and stutter, creating a sound that Recina would almost mistake for two lings talking.

“Oh I understand your majesty… yes we know…” Lysander continued to talk to the queen “I’m sure… it will open the shipping lanes, we’ll be able to import foreign oil again.”

Recina still just stared in a mixture of amusement and terror. On one hoof, it was hilarious seeing Lysander and Mimic work together on something; on the other, this was the admiralty, these were the changelings running their entire naval war. Maybe Olenian command was better prepared?

“I’m hopeful as well your highness…tomorrow!” Lysander looked a Mimic and mouthed ‘what do I do?’.

Mimic frantically pointed at a chart on the table behind them, the tide chart. Recina could see where this was going. Lysander nodded in understanding and placed a nodded apologetically, as if the queen could see him “unfortunately the tide is poor tomorrow, the earliest we could launch would be in 3 days time… yes it’s not ideal… of course your highness… goodbye to you as well.”

Lysander placed down the phone and let out a sigh of relief. Mimic stopped whatever she was doing and looked at Lysander expectantly, Recina meanwhile had collapsed back into her chair at some point, unable to cope with whatever the other admirals were cooking up.

Lysander turned around and cleared his throat “The queen wants us to launch an attack as soon as the tide allows. We can bring the 1st and 3rd SNLF to the coast in 5 hours.”

Mimic stood up and trotted over to the conference table “our fuel rations are low, 1st fleet can only sail for 2 days before we’re running into the army’s supplies. If we use 2nd fleet and move over a few choice ships, we can probably stay at sea for 5 full days.”

Lysander grabbed a file with his magic and flipped it open as he joined Mimic at the table “the problem is ammunition and provisions, we’ll run dry of shells after 2 days. The dumps are empty of food as well, it’s all funnelled to the frontline, it would take days to stockpile and food and love to feed the sailors for a week at sea.”

Recina was in shock, the two were cooperating? Then she realised, Mimic and Lysander were infamous for their feud and loathing of each other, but they were also colleagues who’d gone through thick and thin together. Whatever grievances they had with each other, they had their counterparts back when the shells started flying. This was how they’d led the navy so far, under fire.

Then she realised how to play this, while Lysander and Recina would undoubtedly find a way around the food and ammunition problem, she could offer a solution. Helvia had sent her to get the Kriegsmarine into action, to get them moving, this would get them moving. She could ingratiate themselves withing their bullshit and get things done that way.

“I can offer a solution to that.” Recina announced, sitting up and raising a hoof “I can pull a few strings and call up my sister, pull the food and love we need out of Dietrisiums stockpiles. As a princess of Dietriesium, I also have the power to conscript ships registered to this city into service. We can use them as auxiliary ships to support our fleet at sea, ferrying ammo and fresh personal back and forth.”

Lysander and Mimic looked at her, their faces unreadable. Then Mimic pointed a hoof at Recina “If I wasn’t married and straight, I’d kiss you right now.”

Lysander gave an indignant snort “No idea how she convinced someling to marry her. If I didn’t look like that one hoofball you leave in the bushes for a year then I’d probably be married, what with my winning personality.”

Mimic shifted her gaze back to Lysander “please, you have the personality of a trout.”

There they were, the Lysander and Mimic who really do hate each other. Recina was glad to see that was still something she had to dance around. At least they actually doing military stuff now, small miracles.

“Anyway!” Recina loudly interjected “we should be able to maintain combat for longer that way, stretch the battle out and keep our crews fresh while the UPF tire.”

Lysander nodded, agreeing with her assessment “we also have a massive radar advantage, if we hit them with the main fleet at night with near impunity, and harass them with submarines during the day. Mimic, how many subs can you field on short notice?”

It was true that the Kriegsmarine had an enormous radar advantage, theirs was better and in more widespread usage. They were also one of the two pioneers of radar guided gunnery, just behind the naval juggernaut of Hippogriffia. The Equestrian fleet meanwhile was well trained, with many of its ships captains having been trained at the Hippogrif naval academy, but had outdated equipment and were coordinating with ships from 5 different countries. This caused them to have brilliant battlefield commanders, but an almost completely useless high command unable to capitalise on their successes.

“The U fleet is still dealing from the battle of C-1982, but I can probably get 8-12 subs ready, 2 wolfpacks.” Mimic replied.

The Equestrians were early adopters of carrier warfare, and had a shining naval air arm; but they were best with destroyers. Equestrian destroyer captains inherited almost all the traits of the Hippogriffs who trained them, a death or glory attitude. Years of dancing with Mimics sub fleet had also left their destroyer branch as the world premier sub hunting fleet.

The battle of C-1982 was their greatest showing, Mimic had launched a mass sortie of 40 subs against a convoy off the southern coast of Equestria. While they had taken down 27 merchant ships, the destroyer escorts had struck back hard in a master class of sub hunting. The U-boat arm had lost almost half of the ships committed to battle, and most which returned needed weeks of repairs. Mimic’s forces still hadn’t truly recovered from the battle.

“I think we might just have the beginning of a plan here.” Lysander said as he smirked.

The admiral then picked up the heaviest object he could find, a stapler, in his magic and tossed it at the window to the office. The stapler bounced off the glass and clattered to the floor, in the office, one of the aids walked away and left the room. Lysander tossing something at the window was code for: get us coffee, and cancel all your plans because it’s time for an all-nighter.

Recina cleared her throat and pointed a hoof to the map on the table, it showed the full map of the Eqqus continent. The map was however slightly outdated and showed the communist countries in grey. “What about Stalliongrad and the griffons? Have we accounted for their ships. Since the Molehoove-Ribentrot pact fell through, they’re also engaged.”

“The Revolutionary navy is mainly made up of Ex-equestrian ships and older models.” Lysander deflected “They never really built up a large fleet, their only modern vessels are some subs and destroyers. We can outrun them, admiral Karina also loathes her Equestrian counterpart and V.O.P.S report that they’re spread out. They’ll probably engage piecemeal, easy enough to defeat in detail.”

Mimic shuffled uncomfortably “I’m worried about their subs though. I went undercover there for a few months before the war broke out, their subs are about as good, maybe a bit better than, ours. Grey Gorshkov is a good dolphin, he’s got the skills and the equipment to give your destroyers the run around.”

“I have a plan for that, but we need to do the logistics first. Recina, I hope you can go days without sleep.” Lysander chuckled.

“I imagine I’m not as experienced as you are.” Recina sighed tiredly “you’ve made me remember why I retired.”

“Happy to help!” Mimic exclaimed joyfully.

5 Days later off Cape Sunny, Unexplored West.

Lysander stood atop the conning tower of the Battlecruiser High Tower, staring out into the sea around him. It was an early morning, a cold morning, a hard morning. The 2nd fleet of the Kriegsmarine had sortied two days before, and had finally arrived in their operational zone off the Equestrian coast yesterday. Ever since then, they’d manoeuvred, trying to get the positioning on the UPF fleet they knew was out there.

Despite the risks, they were engaging without cover from coastal command. Mimic believed that the Equestrians would stay in port if the Changelings could put 300 bombers above their fleet, and she was ultimately right. But it pained Lysander to know that his ships were all alone in the sea.

The fleet sortied for battle was split into five groups: the first was Mimics wolfpacks currently shadowing the UPF forces somewhere south of them. The wolfpacks were tasked with keeping contact on the Equestrian main fleet, launching hit and run attacks and hunting down any lone ships returning to the continent.

The second group was Recinas carriers. The Changelings had only ever constructed 2 aircraft carriers, they were worse than the Equestrians and the crews less experienced. But they had a crucial role in this battle, they were stripped of all but a few bombers and loaded with mainly fighters, they would draw the main UPF air strike onto themselves, and devastate the air wings with their massive deck-loads of fighters. Then, they would provide CAP for Lysanders 2nd fleet, and use their few bombers to depth charge any submarines which made themselves known.

The third group was the logistical fleet, a vast concentration of some 50 supply ships and oilers with the single goal of keeping the fleet at sea. Repair ships, auxiliary vessels and a small army of reserve personnel to replace tired crews. The crucial formation, posing as a vast landing force, circled under constant air support in the Olenian ocean.

The fourth group was their Olenian contingent, a smaller but still significant fleet. The Olenian protectorate still had significant oil stockpiles, and they could put their entire fleet to sea. The Olenian battle fleet was made up of some 40 ships, mainly: heavy cruisers, cruisers and destroyers. Led by admiral Lauri Virta, the Olenian force was tasked with turning back the Revolutionary navy when they finally made an appearance and striking back at the Equestrian carriers. The two Olenian light carriers was also with this group, flying: scout planes, fighters and bombers. For now, they just manoeuvred off the west of the 2nd fleet.

The last component of the fleet was the 2nd fleet itself, led by Lysander. Boasting nearly 70 ships, the fleet was a dense concentration of firepower and one not to be underestimated. The 6 fast battlecruisers of its main line were some of the most modern vessels on the planet, and their crews veterans of 2 wars and countless battles. Their job would be to evade the Equestrian fleet during the day, and run them down in the night.

The plan all began with an intentional leak. Through channeling information into the right hands, and through the right channels, the UPF became convinced they were privy to inside information about a large amphibious landing. The UPF force was somewhere out there, just beyond radar and strike range, waiting. They believed that they’d be ambushing the Olenian main fleet in an escorting position on a huge landing force. The reality would be far different.

The plan was for the 2nd fleet to absorb the main airstrike from the Equestrian carrier fleet with aid from Recinas fighters. The Olenian carriers would then launch their own strike to target the Equestrian carriers, aiming to damage them. Lysander knew the Equestrian navy wouldn’t abandon a damaged ship, and it would make it easier for him to run them down and begin a surface battle.

Mimics wolfpacks had made on and off sightings of the main Equestrian fleet south of them, also manoeuvring erratically. The battle scarred GeneralAdmiral could just feel it in his bones, today was the day of battle. Something in the air, it just felt right. Weather reports had even indicated that it was going to be a brilliant day, the perfect day for a battle.

That weather could be easily turned against them however. If Recina or the Olenians failed to neutralise their carriers or provide Lysander with air cover, then that weather would leave his 2nd fleet in the open, with no cloud cover or erratic weather preventing the UPF from launching strike after strike and devastating his forces.

Just as Lysander was musing on the strategy and coming bloodshed, a changeling sprinted in, shouting a continuous stream of Sir! Lysander turned around, bemused by the unfolding event. The sailor in question was a radio operator, a young one by the looks of her. The changeling held a piece of paper in her magic, and appeared desperate. The bridge crew cast a few wary glances her way, but otherwise left her alone.

The changeling stopped in front of Lysander and took a few deep breaths, she’d obviously sprinted from wherever it was she’d come from. The admiral looked down on her, and raised his brow in anticipation. She was desperate to get this report to Lysander, whatever it was.

“Sighting report.” She blurted out “From an Olenian aircraft to our west.”

That was odd, the main bulk of the Equestrian navy was south of them, and the Revolutionary navy wouldn’t have sortie yet. Perhaps the Olenians were just a bit jumpy? The Olenians were good sailors though, well versed in ship identification and veterans of every major battle so far. They were dependable and didn’t make mistakes very often.

Lysander took the report in his magic, the paper was a bit crumpled, but still easily readable. The admiral froze at what he read on the report ‘bombed but missed one of 2 CV’s with decks full. Battleships in support.’

That’s it? No location, no information, no bearing, nothing! Just that some Olenian pilot had spotted a carrier force within striking range on their west, in the process of flying off a strike. They could be hit any minute, the Olenians to their west could be getting bomber right now! They were probably west anyway, what with the Olenians positioned west of Lysander’s fleet.

“The report came from west.” The radioling reported “It’s no more than 20 minutes old.” Well that confirmed his theory on the position anyway.

To compound the misery of the situation, another changeling ran onto the bridge screaming Sir. What in the world could it be this time? Surely this situation couldn’t get any worse, well no plan survives contact with the enemy, perhaps the Equestrians were smarter than given credit for Lysander mused.

The changeling had handed him a written report, and a verbal one. “A V.O.P.S agent broke radio silence last night and transmitted a message sir, a scout flight confirmed it an hour ago.” The changeling stiffly handed Lysander a report.

The admiral took this one as well and read it over. If he hadn’t years of experience in pretending everything was fine, he would have screamed. The report read ‘Revolutionary fleet sorties two days ago, new Mareland and Puerto Calibrido ships, including 2CV’s, also en route.’ The second piece of paper was obviously from a scout flight, confirming the report ‘no warships in Las Pegasus harbour or surrounding are, no indication of departure time.’

The entire Revolutionary fleet and probably a New Mareland carrier force could be on their arse right now, and no one would know about it. The Revolutionary fleet could have been at sea for two days, they could be anywhere by now! They were caught in a pincer, the Equestrian fleet from the south, the New Mareland from the west, and the Revolutionary either on the west or cutting them off from the north.

“Why the FUCK wasn’t I given this report earlier! If we’ve had this for a day…” The HivesAdmiral growled.

“This was transmitted to fleet command, they only transmitted it to us a moment ago.” The nervous changeling reported, seemingly shrinking away from her superior.

Whatever happened, today was going to be a busy day, today was going to be a stressful day, today was going to be a bloody day. ‘Fuck’, he thought, ‘wish I’d gotten more sleep. Thinking for just a moment, Lysander made his call.

“Transmission to Admiral Mimic ‘overwhelming enemy force in area, suggest weapons free on any target. Code: I’ Transmission to Admiral Virta ‘follow us south, prepare for air attack and await further orders.’ Transmission to HivesAdmiral Recina ‘follow us south and prepare for air attack, act as you see fit’. Nav, plot a course south at best possible speed. If they want a fight, they’ll get one. Sound general quarters in all ships and prepare for air attack and CQB.” Lysander barked out his orders, and the previously dormant bridge became a hive of activity.

Same time, 200 miles south of 2nd fleet

GeneralAdmiral Mimic read the report over, then started from the top. A sighting report of enemy CV’s west, the Revolutionary navy already being at sea, and Lysander going weapons free and rushing south. Today was going to be a busy day. The Submariner known simply as ‘The Barracuda’ placed the reports down and looked down at the charts before her.

‘Code I’ wasn’t an official designation or code, rather an informal one between Lysander and Mimic. Code I’s meaning was simple, it means ‘we’re improvising’. It wasn’t a good sign, Lysander was justifiably spooked by the incoming reports, they were certainly off script now. Funny, they hadn’t even made contact with the enemy, yet the plan hadn’t even survived this far.

The UPF was more cunning than they’d given them credit for, this was certainly a predicament. The UPF figured out that this was probably a trap and had set up a trap of their own. They’d remained undetected until now and were launching an airstrike against the unprepared Kriegsmarine surface fleet.

It was a textbook strategy of the Hippogriffian navy, taught in their naval academy. It was an academy which many of the Equestrian captains and admirals had been taught at. Mimic and Lysander had actually attended it as well, not as Changelings obviously, but it was an ambush which she recognised. If Lysander hadn’t recognised that he was about to be hit by an air attack on two sides, then they were in serious trouble.

The Cruiser Submarine O-19, flagship of Admiral Mimic, was a vessel with a staggering kill count. 51 ships sunk over the whole war, each marked by a cross on the tower, and a single train blown up during a commando raid made its kill talley. She was, by far, the most successful submarine commander in history, and today was an opportunity to expand that tally and relieve pressure on the surface ships.

O-19 and the Wolfpack of 11 other U-boats had been shadowing the Equestrian main fleet for a day now, and Mimic had just lined up the tubs for an attack when Lysander gave the weapons free order. The Wolfpack would have to get to work if they wanted to earn their place in this battle, a battle probably not suited to submarines.

The submarines CIC was a tight room, the only sound being the quiet buzzing of equipment and almost silent murmur of the crews conversations. The air was also hot and sticky, more than one of the crew had some form of tobacco lit, mainly cigarettes. A dull haze of smoke swirled around the room, creating a fog nearly identical to the fog banks surrounding the surface ships.

“Increase speed to 15 knots, take us to periscope depth.” Mimic ordered.

The bridge crew silently performed their duty’s as the entire room lurched up. Metal groaned and protested the change as the submarine increased in speed. Pencils rolled across tables and ashtrays shifted, but the dolphins stayed upright, their bodies automatically orientating them to stay upright. The submarine levelled out, and Mimics periscope lowered from the ceiling.

The changeling wrapped both hooves around the handles and put her full weight against it. Mimics pressed her eyes against the periscope. She swivelled it around, trying to find targets, then she saw them in the distance. The Equestrian fleet was steaming just ahead of her, right across her bow and directly into the wind.

Mimic licked her lips, wishing she could taste the salty air on the surface. A small smile appeared on her face “message to transmit to Wolfpacks, ‘let’s go hunting’” the admiral turned around to her bridge crew, some of whom were also smirking now “sound general quarters and man battle stations. Load fish and open doors.”

The lights turned red, but no alarm sounded. Hooves softly hit the submarines carpeted floor as crewmen shuffled to battle stations. Dolphins were roused from sleep, stations were manned, and fish were slid into their tubes. The only sound filling the submarine was the dull thunk of tubes being loaded and flooded, and the rhythmic hum on the twin engines propelling the vehicle forward.

Mimic pressed her eyes even further against the periscope, eagerly awaiting the range to decrease. The Hivesadmiral relished the silence of her crew, even the slightest increase in sound could alert any one of the dozens of escorting destroyers to their presence.

As the silhouettes of the ships became clearer and more identifiable, the Dolphin chose her target. Sitting in the centre of the formation were the four Equestrian carriers, the main strike force of their fleet. Several had been sunk in previous battles, and others had fallen prey to air raids in port or submarine attacks, these four were the only ones which remained. But with the attrition of the naval war having decimated both changeling and Pony fleets, it was still a powerful force. Mimic wanted to claim another carrier, another one down to the deep.

Nautical mile by nautical mile, the range decreased. The submarine getting ever closer to its target. Now, Mimic could see the aircraft lining the flight deck, props spinning, waiting for the all clear signal. They were probably minutes away from launching an air strike, swivelling the periscope, Mimic could see aircraft in a similar position on the other 3 carriers.

“Wind direction?” Mimic asked her navigator softly.

The navigators voice reached her ears, equally soft “West-east.”

Mimic let out a shaken breath, silently ecstatic at the reply. In order to launch their nearly imminent air strike, the aircraft carrier would have to turn right across her submarines bow on an attack angle most would be delusional to even dream about. The carrier would be sailing right into a torpedo spread, an almost perfect scenario.

As Mimic watched, the carrier lurched left and turned on a diagonal course, sailing right into the wind. The carrier was now approaching her submarine and would pass just ahead of it, the interception angle was perfect.

Aircraft started to slide off the flight deck, beginning to circle the carrier. Any one of their pilots could have looked down and seen the submarine just under the surface of the calm water. Any one of the destroyers could have picked up the engine of the submarine. It was a game of nerves, would the submariner have the nerves to follow their attack right into the lions maw.

Mimic withdrew the periscope, and long metal tube being absorbed into the grey frame of the submarine as it disappeared beneath the waterline. She turned to look at the hydrophone operator, relying on him now for navigation.

“Approaching outer screen.” He stated, never taking his eyes off the console.

The headphones firmly clasped over his ears fed a constant stream of noise to the operator. Mimic made her way over to his console, her hooves wrapped with fabric to soften the sound. She hung her hat up and placed a small set of the headphones over her ears.

Clamping her eyes shut, Mimic imagined the world on the surface. She could hear the thrum on the destroyers engines, hear the sounds of the metal behemoths cutting through the waves. Sometimes she wondered if she was half seapony, a not totally impossible fact.

“Destroyer inbound.” The voice of the sonar operator brought her back from her thoughts. Mimic shifted the headphones, leaving one of her ears uncovered. “We’re passing under it.”

Looking up, Mimic could hear the frame of her sub groan in protest as the sudden current created by the destroyer threw it off balance. Then the metallic thumping of the propellers passed them by. There couldn’t have been more than a few meters between the two vessels. The sound subsided as the destroyer pulled away, and the crew let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Approaching inner screen.” The hydrophone operator reported.

The inner screen around an aircraft carrier was mostly filled with the heavier surface units, the battleships and heavy cruisers of the fleet. Detection in this area was unlikely, but still not impossible. There was also the very real possibility of the sub being rammed by one of the heavier ships. The battleships sat deeper in the water, without adjusting their depth, they could be cut right in half by the bow of a ship.

The minutes dragged by as the submarine crept towards the aircraft carrier, slowly but surely approaching their target. The submariners nerves held, they didn’t back out of their attack, they didn’t increase their speed, they just kept moving forwards.

Then it happened, they were through “past the inner screen, carrier ahead.” The hydrophone operator reported.

Mimic tore the headphones off and trotted over to the periscope “Give me attack depth, open outer doors and prepare to fire.”

The submarine lurched upwards, its inner hull groaning in thanks at the decreasing pressure. The whole ship shook as a crash echoed through its frame, the outer torpedo doors had been opened. As the ship levelled out, Mimic tapped on the periscope as it dropped down from the ceiling for her. Using the periscope at this point was a risky move, but she needed to ensure accuracy.

Mimic pressed her eyes against the lenses as she wrapped her for-hooves around the handles. Placing her full weight against the periscope, she looked right ahead, and there it was. The Equestrian carrier steaming right towards them, still launching aircraft off its flight deck.

Mimic could feel sweat dripping down her face, drawing lines across her dark skin. The thin layer of smoke inside the CIC increased as the command staff lit another round of cigarettes, the tobacco calming the frayed nerves of some.

Mimic stated right ahead at the carrier, “Torpedo control, range 2000 yards, prepare to fire full spread.”

“Torpedo control aye, full spread ready.” An officer barked from somewhere else on the CIC.

The changeling admiral licked her lips, watching the range decrease. “Torpedo control, fire fish full spread. Helm, left full rudder!” Mimic shouted.

Her orders were repeated by the command officers to their individual stations. The first fish was away with a thump, as the huge submarine lurched to the right, following the path of the carrier. Then a second, then a third.

“Admiral, several of their destroyers are turning on us. They know we’re here!” The sonar operator steadily reported.

The submarine continued to turn as Mimic pushed her periscope up to the ceiling, the long pole on the surface slipping beneath the waves. A moment later, a fourth and a fifth fish was away. Each metal fish, armed the moment it left the tube, racing towards a target trying desperately to turn away from the deadly weapons.

Closing her eyes, Mimic waited an agonisingly long second for the final thump. Then the sixth fish was away, and the CIC blew into action “dive control, crash depth and put us at 150m right fucking now! Helm, max speed, right full rudder. Sound collision alarm!”

As the cruiser submarine O-19 plunged into the depths, Mimic stood in the centre of the CIC, one hoof wrapped around a railing for support. They’d be depth charged in a moment, with any luck, they’d pull through. This sub has gotten her through a great many battles, it would get her through another.

All they needed now, was confirmation of torpedo hits. Plunging blind through the deep, they’d have to rely on their hydrophone operator for that. If he could hear the explosions, then it was all worth it.

Mimic lit up her horn and grabbed a golden piece of paper out of her uniforms pocket. Unfolding it in the dim light, she smiled when her eyes scanned over the image printed on it. Her husband was front and centre, a leg wrapped around her back, both grinning towards the camera. Her joy was truly directed at the other two changelings in the picture, a young male and female changeling stood at their feet, hooves wrapped around their parents legs.

This is what the fight was all about, her beautiful twins would grow up in a safe Changelingia, and have full bellies every night. They’d sleep safely, without the fear of the Thoraxian terrorists taking them, or the threat of an Equestrian army crossing the border. They would be safe!

Mimic cast a glance at her husband in the picture, she could see them right now. Her husband, a professor of geography, would be waking up their children right now, making them a breakfast of pancakes and rushing them off to school. She wouldn’t die here, a changeling with something to get back and fight for, will live forever in war.

The hydrophone operators voice dragged Mimic back from her thoughts “one hit, that’s two, three, four.” He paused, a hoof pressing the headphone further into his ear “maybe five, I can’t tell if the fourth one was a magazine going or two hits at once. That destroyers coming around, I hear the depth charges in the water.”

The mixture of good and bad news meant the room remained in total silence. The crew knew they could celebrate when they got back, when they were out of danger. Besides, the noise could give away their exact location to the prowling destroyers.

Mimic surveyed the room and locked eyes on one of the torpedo officers. The crewman couldn’t have been older than 18, and she was a shivering in fear in her own little corner of the CIC. In the dim lighting, she could even see a few shed tears rolling down the changelings face.

Mimic stalked across the CIC and arrived by the fearful changeling. She gently placed a hoof on her back, remaining gentle as the Changeling jerked in surprise at the sudden contact. “First deployment?” Mimic asked gently.

“Y-yes, it’s my first time.” She squeaked out.

“I remember my first deployment; I messed around with the engine and almost blew us sky high, but I got us going twice as fast. The skipper gave me a right bollocking when we got back into port, then recommended I take officer training.” Mimic mused happily.

The young changeling smiled and gave a weak and throaty laugh at the story. Her smile quickly dissipated as she quivered again “will we, will we be okay?”

Mimic brushed her hoof down the quivering changelings back once again “we’ll be alright, we’re in more danger of being sunk by a bolt of lightning than the Equestrian navy.” It was a complete lie, the Equestrian navy had some of the finest sub-hunting tactics and equipment in the world, but she wouldn’t let her officers worry about that. “Just follow my orders and we’ll be back in port for teatime.”

It was then that the depth charges, previously sinking to catch them, began to explode. The mixture of explosive containers and hedgehog mortars detonating underwater in a fury, shaking the salty sea up like a storm was ravaging through it.

Author's Note

So the Changeling admiralty was planning for a long multi-day battle, but the UPF have other plans. This battle is going to be on a knifes edge, reallllllly close, its a total toss for who's going to win this round.

I had a lot of fun sorting out the characters of Lysander and Mimic for this, and I don't think anyone expected the dynamic of theirs which I've set up. Almost all fic's I've read either totally sideline one of them, or have them be bitter enemies, I wanted to expand on that slightly, but have them reaching some kind of understanding.

I also ran into a lot of problems with the details when writing this. I gave a few sparse details in 'Stories of the Great War', which came back to bite me with their inconsistencies. I had a bad time figuring out how to put them together, especially the timeframe of 1 day, what was I thinking!

This chapter is also named after the game War On The Sea, which I played a lot of in the run up to writing this.

Part 2 isn't written yet, so it won't be out anytime soon. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them and I'll get back to you; and if you have any complaints, that's fair and feel free to tell me I suck.

War on the Sea (Part 2)

Admiral Recina stoon on the conning tower of her flagship, the CHS Queen Helvia, and the Changeling lands most modern carrier. Although that wasn’t saying much in comparison to the modern Equestrian carriers. With a lower top speed, carrying capacity, and reduced range, they were an inferior model. Their pilots weren’t much better, the fleet aircraft were inferior in most ways to their Equestrian counterparts, and the pilots more inexperienced. Just about the only advantage that the Changeling carriers had was their superior radar and AA guns.

Recina was relying on the element of surprise, if she could locate the Equestrian fast carriers first and launch a mass strike in coordination with the Olenians, then they could potentially knock out the main equestrian strike capabilities before they could launch an air raid. If it came to a carrier battle, then they would lose.

Luckily, things seemed to be progressing smoothly. Beyond an odd transmission they’d received from Lysander, everything was going smoothly. It was an odd message though, reading only ‘Follow us south…await further orders’. If Recina had to guess, Lysanders crew had failed to transmit part of the message, or her own crew had failed to receive it.

Breaking radio silence, Recina had transmitted a message back asking for confirmation of previous orders. The HivesAdmiral had also gambled and guessed on the part of the message that may not even exist. At this moment, the crews were arming the reserve aircraft for a seek and destroy mission. Recina was banking on some target of opportunity presenting itself south, or something having spooked the 2nd fleets Admiral.

Glancing out across at the other aircraft carrier just a mile east of her own, she took in the majestic sight of the CHS Hives Victorum. The carrier identical to her own was the duty carrier for the day, its fighters running combat air patrol and flying scout aircraft. The companion carrier was also acting strange, more fighters were being brough onto the deck, and Recina had observed that the ship had gone to battle stations.

Recina couldn’t for the life of her imagine why, HivesAdmiral Mimic’s submarines showed the main Equestrian carrier force to be beyond strike range as of 3 hours ago. The Equestrians would have had to close the range all morning to even get in range, and that was assuming that they’d located them in the first place. It just led more credence to her theory that Lysander was spooked, probably by some radar ghost.

Recina slowly trotted back into the operations room of her flagship and picked up a mug of coffee with her magic. It looked like today was going to be another actionless day. Good, perhaps another calm day would stop everyling from being so jumpy and pouncing at shadows.

Lysander had been circling in a relatively exposed position for day, even dodging a few long-range float planes and Catalinas; it was obvious that the situation made him anxious. Some of his radar screens had picked up Catalinas shadowing them every hour or so, Recina’s fighters had run them down, but still.

HivesAdmiral Mimic was also a cause for concern, her wolfpack had gone totally silent. It could just be Mimic tightening up on radio silence, or it could mean that they were hunting. Truthfully, knowing where she was would defeat the point of a wolfpack, but the total lack of even a single sighting or transmission was of note.

Recina had to admit that she was nervous as well, it was impossible not to be. Despite the fact that she told herself they were out of range, and that Lysander was just being jumpy, she wasn’t truly convinced either. As a carrier commander, she knew the dangers of a carrier battle. Any piece of poorly transmitted information, or a false report could destroy an entire fleet.

And even though the Equestrians would have needed to close range all night, and lunch an un-scouted search and destroy mission to even hit them; it was still a possibility. It also concerned Recina, because its exactly what she would do. Sure they might not have detected them, but a seek and destroy mission could bear fruits if led effectively.

At least the New Mareland, Puerto Caballo and Red Navy ships were still in port. If they’d sortied with the Equestrians, then the Kriegsmarine would probably be in a fight where they simply didn’t have the ammunition to even consider victory. As long as they came in piecemeal, then the Kriegsmarine could beat them.

“HivesAdmiral.” A communication officer announced, getting the attention of Recina “Message from CHS Hives Victorum.”

Finally, some answers “Read message.” She ordered.

“From command Victorum to command Helvia, why are you not launching fighters?” the communication officer stiffly reported.

Now that was concerning “Radar, any contacts?” Recina asked.

“Nothing but our own.” A changeling quickly reported.

“Then what in the Hives are they scrambling fighters for?” Recina asked aloud. As was to be expected, noling replied. Something was wrong, this wasn’t just Lysander being spooked, her own ships were launching fighters on their own initiative now. “Flight officer!” Recina called.

A young changeling officer stood up from their console and stood at attention. “Yes sir!”

“Scramble the alert fighters, I want all available fighters armed and brought to the flight deck. Sound general quarters and man battle stations.” Recina barked.

The CIC flew into action. Orders were drafted and sent off into various other parts of the ship. Aircraft lifts pushed fighters out from the holds onto the flight deck, crews and engineers hurriedly arming and fuelling the fighters. The carrier, already sailing into the wind, launched the alert fighters. The aircraft taking up patrol positions over the fleet, a few making to higher altitudes to watch out for dive bombers.

The alarm sounding and rousing off duty crew from their sleep or food. Everywhere, Changelings ran to man guns, seal bulkheads, or don firefighting equipment. Most of them wouldn’t have any idea what was going on, just that they could be in battle or under imminent air attack.

Recina watched as the last of the combat air patrol took off from the deck, turning to gain altitude and distance from the mothership. “Flight officer; bring the bombers onto the deck and launch them immediately, seek and destroy south.” Recina ordered.

“HivesAdmiral.” Another officer called to get her attention “Message coming in from 2nd fleet command. ‘Confirmation of orders, break, follow us south and prepare for air attack, break, act as you see fit.’”

Recina froze, that was different from the message they’d received earlier. The difference at the end was minor, but it was enough to paint a picture in her mind of what had happened. If she had to guess, she’d probably picked up a message meant for the Olenians, and the CHS Hives Victorum the one meant for her. ‘Prepare for air attack’ Lysander was ready for a fight, an immediate fight.

“More coming through now HivesAdmiral, its from Admiral Lauri Virta.” The officer continued “Message reads ‘Apologies to command, but I have already launched a strike west. We will remain to recover our pilots before following you south.’”

On the outside, Recina was perfectly calm and showed no outward emotions other than confidence. On the inside however, it was a total blind panic. Thanks to some probable communications issues, Recina had missed the start of the battle unfolding around her. All around her, ships and formations moved to combat an enemy she had yet to see.

An air raid could hit her right now, with the hanger still full of bombers, the ship would go off like a Roaman candle. But if they launched the bombers now only for another target of opportunity to present itself, they would have wasted their strike. Not to mention the 2nd fleet, if Recina became to focused on the western threat, Lysander could be left to face the entire Equestria fleet on his own. Although, going to help Lysander would mean leaving the Olenians to fend for themselves.

“Transmission to TF, proceed south at best possible speed. Send my apologies to Admiral Virta, but we can’t remain in the area and risk air attack.” Recina ordered to noling in particular.

Regardless of who the order was directed at, it was carried out nonetheless. A transmission was sent out to the carrier task force ordering that they turn south. At the same time, another radio operator was sent to the Olenian fleet informing them that they’d be on their own.

The lumbering aircraft carriers turned their enormous bodies about, the steel behemoths throwing themselves about. All around them, destroyers and cruisers tried to avoid the manoeuvring carriers and maintain something of a coherent anti-air grid around them.

In the skies around them, Focke Wulf Meer’s, the naval variant of the venerable Focke Wulf, continued their orbits. At high altitudes, squadrons watched for dive bombers, while others skimmed the waves watching for torpedo bombers. The pilots ready to protect their carriers from whatever would show itself. Soon they’d get their chance.

“HivesAdmiral Recina, CHS Hives Victorum reports unknown radar contacts 8 miles out west and closing fast.” The radioling reported “They’ve already vectored fighters out to intercept them.”

“I’ve got them too!” the Radar operator called to the changeling admiral “Three groups, two at higher altitudes and one just 60ft above the water.”

“Dive bombers and torpedo bombers” Recina murmured “Right standard rudder, hard over!” she called “Direct CAP to intercept, get more fighters in the air now!”

High above the carrier, orders reached the carrier fighters. Heads swivelled bearing were called, within a minute, the CHS Queen Helvias alert fighters were directed to intercept one of the groups of dive bombers. Coordinating with the CHS Hives Victorum, its own squadrons were vectored out to intercept the other two groups.

Engines roared and smoke billowed from engines as the fighters accelerated to attack speeds. The Changeling pilots flying on for a few minutes watching the tiny dots on the horizon grow into the shapes of enemy aircraft. New Mareland Seafire fighters, the naval variant of the legendary spitfire, were aggressively manoeuvring ahead of various bombers.

A mixture of Skuas, Barracudas, and licence produced Hippogriff Helldivers followed behind, equipped with a mixture of armour piercing and High explosive bombs. The formations undoubtably gunning for the carriers of Helvias fleet. What else of value was there to target? Unless they wanted to sink some oilers or light cruisers it would be a waste of time.

The first waves of escorting fighters crashed into the first wave of intercepting fighters. In a bloody moment, fighters charged each other head on and sprayed cannons and machine guns with reckless abandon. Aluminium tore, and blood splattered on glass. A few fighters exploded mid-air, while others set alight and tumbled to the sea.

The fighters passed by each other as they slowed and broke apart. Each aircraft picked its own target and swerved after each other. The massive fur-ball immediately broke apart into dozens of single plane battles. A few changeling aircraft broke the picket line and began to make runs on the dive bombers. All the while, New Mareland gunners and seafires did their best to drive the interceptors away.

As the dogfights inched closer towards the carriers, the AA guns of the fleet started to fire. The collection of Changeling ships put up an impressive wall of fire, as the aircraft inched closer. Steering clear of their firing solution, the Changeling aircraft continued their battle as they began herding the dive bombers into the airburst shells.

A few were caught and went down, but the New Mareland dive bombers were too close now. The Equestrians pushing their fragile dive bombers into a near vertical dive onto the CHS Queen Helvia and CHS Hives Victorum. Each of their noses pointed dangerously at the decks of the carriers.

HivesAdmiral Recina barked out orders, the carriers already evasive managers turned even more desperate. The carrier threw itself to the side, deck crew pushed an unmanned bomber sitting on the deck overboard to stop any secondary explosions and sailors threw potentially flammable object overboard.

Bombs were released and eagerly charged to the surface. 8 bombs splashed into the water on both sides of the carrier. A single bomb detonated just behind the ship, the near miss causing some damage to one of the rudders. The shockwave of the explosion injuring engineers in the bowels of the ship.

The CHS Hives Victorum ,cruising a few miles east, was in a far better position. Being the more distant of the two, the carrier received less attention from the New Mareland bombers. The other carrier had also closed up with its escorts and put out a denser and more concentrated flak field.

The New Mareland bombers also had far more difficulty getting close enough to even make their runs. Having launched more fighters, the CHS Hives Victorum had a stronger air presence protecting it. Bombers in this section fought their way through increasingly dense clouds of Meer Wulfs. The first round of bombers heading towards the CHS Hives Victorum all either: missed, were shot down, or veered out of the attack.

The next wave of dive bombers descended upon the CHS Queen Helvia. With its steering impaired by the near miss, this squadron wouldn’t miss. 12 bombers released 12 bombs on the Changeling carrier, the result was far better this time.

HivesAdmiral Recina stood out onto the observation deck of the carriers bridge. Despite the carrier trying to manoeuvre, Recina knew these aircraft would hit. She watched helplessly as the heavy 1000ibl bombs charged towards the carrier.

Three planted themselves right on the deck of the carrier, detonating atop the armoured deck. The fourth dug its way into the hanger before exploding. Flames roared and Changelings screamed. Firefighters rushed out from the lower decks, using their foam hoses to create a fire barrier. The air was filled with shards of glowing metal, Recina herself was showered with the deadly fragments and thrown to the floor.

Recina staggered to her hooves, the explosions have thrown her to the deck. The HivesAdmiral was miraculously uninjured, despite holes having been torn in her uniform where shrapnel had pierced her, the changelings armoured Chitin had protected her. Thank Chrysalis for their sturdy biology.

As Recina stumbled back into the bridge, the deck behind her was anarchy. AA gunners continued to fire at the retreating bombers, as firefighters sprayed water down the holes in the flight deck. Medics dragged the dead and dying away as some of the deck crew continued to diligently launch aircraft still on the deck despite the anarchy. Wiping blood off aircraft canopies and sending wounded and fresh pilots up again.

The HivesAdmiral grabbed her second in command and dragged her in shouting distance over the air attack “get to engineering, tell them I want all the engine can give me!”

The HivesAdmiral turned and almost collapsed into the bridge. “How long till we’re hit by the second group?” Recina demanded the moment she entered the bridge.

“Within 5 minutes.” Came the immediate reply.

“What’s the Hives Victorum status?” She shouted. Recina already knew the status of her carrier, fucked.

The damage to the deck would prevent any future flight operations, the rudder damage would slow their turning. The carrier would almost certainly lose speed from the damage. With another group of dive bombers and torpedo bombers incoming, Recina didn’t like their chances of survival.

“The CHS Hives Victorum has not sustained any damage.” A lookout reported, staring at the ship through binoculars.

Recina shook her head. They were a sitting duck if they stayed by her burning carrier. Bombers were drawn to burning ships like flies to a flame. The other carrier would undoubtably be attacked if it stayed with her.

“Someone get me a direct line to the Hives Victorum, right fucking now!” She demanded from the radio operator.

Striding towards the radio operator, Recina lit up her magic and grabbed a receiver. After a moment she looked at the radioling who nodded. Raising the receiver to her face, she clicked it on “Command Victorum, this is Command Helvia, you copy?”

“We copy.” Came the reply from a male voice.

Commander Halcion of the CHS Hives Victorum was a decisive if unimaginative leader. He had a somewhat bland personality, but always acted quickly and with confidence. A reliable carrier commander with a good track record, the best changeling on hand for the upcoming task.

“Commander Halcion, listen very carefully because I will say this only once. Take your carrier and escorts south at the best possible speed and aid HivesAdmiral Lysander. I’ll try to draw as many enemy aircraft onto myself as possible.” Helvia grunted, resenting the situation she was in.

The other Changeling carrier commander hesitated over the radio. The line was silent for an agonising second before the commander got back to her “copy HivesAdmiral” he hesitated again “good hunting ma’am.”

Looking out of the bridge window, Helvia could see the CHS Hives Victorum start to pick up speed as she left the slowing CHS Queen Helvia behind. The escorts in close proximity to the sister carrier also began to slip away with the other carrier. As they departed, the other ships sounded their horns, saluting the other ships.

Recina could feel the gaze of the bridge crew on her. They were silently questioning her, they knew the danger that Recina was putting them in, and wanted to leave. For almost any being anywhere, self-preservation instincts would override discipline.

If their loyalty or discipline faltered, Recina would be in a very difficult situation. The HivesAdmiral dropped the radio receiver and turned to her crew. “Evacuate non-essential personnel from the lower levels and seal outer bulkheads. Have our escorts close up, we may need them to help with firefighting. We may need to counterflood compartments soon, get everyone away from the hull.

Apprehensively, their nerve held. The bridge crew confirmed their orders and set about following their stations. Recina smiled internally, thanking the stars for the discipline of the Kriegsmarine. Professional sailors who’d die at their posts.

Her second in command approached her on the side, the changeling officer huffing. She appeared in a much worse state than Recina, her uniform partially burned and some blood and oil staining her face.

“Engineering says they can get 18 knots, but our only operational engine will burn out in 3 hours if we keep that speed.” She reported.

Outside, the AA guns lit up again. Sirens were sounded, and fighters vectored out to intercept the incoming dive bombers. The New Marelanders were coming for a second round.

6 hours later 2nd Fleet

Lysander often thought about his career choice. He’d thought about it when his first post went under. He’d thought about it when a test depth-charge had gone off in his face and scared him for life. Now, as shells landed all around his ship, he continued to question it.

The entire 2nd fleet was in a headlong charge towards the Equestrian main fleet. After locating the carrier formation, Lysander had ordered the entire fleet to full speed and to charge towards it. Now the entire fleet was racing towards destiny.

By some sort of divine intervention, the first Equestrian airgroup group had overshot his ships. The total chaos of Mimics apparently brilliant attack had disrupted the launching and organisation of the carriers air groups. The one sent to the bottom had also taken the fleets chief air director with it, causing total anarchy in the fighter direction. The result was a completely scattered air group and the attacks losing much of their effectiveness.

The first dive bomber group had been the only one to depart in good order, but was directed onto the wrong coordinates and overshot Lysanders forces. In the hours since, the 2nd fleet had been in constant action against piecemeal air raids and squadrons.

Now, he’d entered gun range. The Equestrians had bided by their sinking carrier, staying nearly stationary as survivors scrambled aboard other ships. It gave Lysander exactly the shot he’d needed, to race into weapons range. Now he was in the running battle, the slightly faster Changeling ships were running down the Equestrian’s running forces.

Lysanders heavy units were throwing shells at the Equestrian fleet, and the ponies were responding in kind. The long-range artillery duel at a rapidly decreasing range promised to be deadly. Not to mention that the Equestrian carriers were still launching bombers.

The Changeling HivesAdmiral watched the shapes of the Equestrian fleet through his binoculars, passively participating in the duel and debating his life choices. No hits had been scored yet, both sides struggling with the range. What he really needed was a lucky break, something to get the range down even further.

“Hit!” Someling shouted, causing Lysander to turn about “CHS Vraks reports 2 hits on Heavy Cruiser 3.”

Lysander nodded in approval. If the Vraks had found its range and could pummel that heavy cruiser, the Equestrian surface ships would need to make a choice; turn and fight, or leave their comrades to their fate. Knowing ponies, they’d never leave a comrade behind.

The artillery duel continued, metal machines throwing high explosive shells across the ocean at their counterparts. Lysander held a pocket watch in his magic, counting down the seconds between a volley from his guns and their impact.

Another volley landed around his leading ship, creeping closer every volley. Pillars of water being thrown up and blanketing the battlecruiser. The AA guns banging away at Equestrian fighters and bombers as they descended in pairs on the formation, machine guns raking the hulls and bombs shaking the water around the behemoths.

“Sir!” A radar operator called. Lysander tore himself from the battle and turned to the changeling “Some of the Equestrians ships are turning about.”

“Which ones?” The HivesAdmiral calmly asked, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“The heavy units sir. The carriers are staying on their original course south.” The sailor reported.

So this was it? They were coming for a fight. Lysander smiled, then he laughed. This was it, this the battle that he’d waited a lifetime for. The decisive battle of the naval war, one that would decide the fate of thousands.

“HivesAdmiral, transmission from the leading destroyers.” A radioling shouted as the entire ship shook with the forward guns letting off another volley.

In a line abreast of the main fleet was a small squadron of 6 destroyers, the picket group sweeping the area for any submarines. They were also in the optimal position to launch a torpedo attack if any of the Equestrian ships lagged behind. Their torpedoes would make short work of most armour.

Lysander pocketed his watch and grabbed the phone on the console in front of him. Bringing the receiver up to his head he clicked it on “Command High Tower here.”

“DG-3 lead to High Tower, Equestrian destroyers accelerating towards us, 7 surface contacts closing at 21 knots.” One voice reported.

“DG-3 flank here, they’re splitting up, going to hit us from three sides!” One of the other destroyer captains shouted over the radio.

Another voice cracked over the radio “DG-3 2.I.C to High Tower, we see the same, looks like they’re coming in for a scrum!”

Just like Lysanders torpedoes would make short work of Equestrian armour, the same applied to him. Equestrian destroyers had a higher torpedo load than Changeling ones, and their commanders were, without a doubt, better than their changeling counterparts. They were a rare breed, true death or glory types.

“Copy DG-3, engage at your own discretion. Good hunting!” He chanted before placing the receiver down.

“Rudder left! Take us on a south easterly course!” Lysander shouted.

His orders were carried out as the battlecruiser shifted its course and turned slightly. Its guns let out another deafening volley as the ship shook. Moments later, columns of water erupted right where the CHS High Tower would have been had it not changed course. The Equestrian gunners were getting their eye in.

Following Lysander, the line of Changeling capital ships followed him into the turn. The turn was gradual however, not enough to open up the arc of fire for their rear guns. They still needed to close the range with the Equestrians and prevent bad damage.

Changeling ships carried more modern radars and combat equipment, plus mounted better engines, but the trade-off was their light armour. In particular, their decks were lightly armoured and made the capital ships especially vulnerable to plunging fire. The only option was to get within 7 nautical miles, or risk catastrophic damage with every exchange.

Once again watching the enemy ships through his binoculars, Lysander spotted an explosion against the superstructure of the leading Equestrian ship. He nodded in grim approval “was that hit us?” He questioned.

“Aye sir.”

“Good, tell firing control I want more of that.” He shouted. Moments later, the two forward guns roared again, having found their range. Two minutes later, two more hits were scored.

“Incoming aircraft, dive bombers!” A voice shouted.

Lysander turned his head and saw a lookout pointing a hoof up to the sky. Following it, he saw the incoming aircraft. Four dive bombers already halfway through their dive, the target obviously being his ship. The AA gunners tried to throw up a flak field, but their guns wouldn’t raise high enough to hit them.

Lysander shouted an order to turn about, and the behemoth of a battlecruiser made an emergency turn. The helmsman threw the rudder hard over and the ship lurched. Three bombs splashed into the sea, the underwater explosions rocking the ship, and shrapnel crashing into the superstructure.

One bomb however found its mark, landing right on the bow. The 1000lb bomb landed right on turret number one and detonated, failing to penetrate the armour. The turret remained unharmed once the smoke cleared, however the impact would have almost certainly killed the entire gun crew. This was confirmed in the next moment when the gun fell completely silent.

As the crew recovered from the hit, pillars of water erupted around the battlecruiser. Then two further explosions on the superstructure shook the ship. Lysander was thrown to the floor of the bridge, as his whole world was rocked. Forcing himself up, the changeling admiral barked “What just hit us!”

“Battleship!” A distant voice shouted.

Following the shout to the outside lookout area, Lysander galloped onto the platform. The outside of the ship didn’t look good, the High Tower seemed to have taken at least 2 hits from heavy guns, 15 inches or higher. The fore turret was also silent, its crew having been killed by the shockwave from the dive bombers.

“Right there sir” a lookout informed him “just through the fog bank.”

Gripping his binoculars with magic, he aligned against the fog bank and began to scan. Initially, there was nothing, then a series of flashes running up and down. Straining his eyes, Lysander made out the silhouette of a huge battleship. It was one he recognised well, the ERNS Luna, lead ship of the diarchy class.

The diarchy class were a pair of Hippogriffian Novo class battleships produced under license in Equestria. Lysander had studied them well and was rightly afraid. 16-inch guns, 12 of them located on 3 quad turrets. Cutting edge radar and fire control equipment, feet of armour and a top speed rivalling his fast battlecruisers. They out-toned his ship by an uncomfortably large margin.

With one of the best drilled crews in Equestria, and led personally by Admiral Evening Squall; It was a juggernaut in battle. Already in the war having rampaged through his cruisers at the battle of Trotland, and sunk two battlecruisers in a night battle off Las Pegasus. Lysander was scared stiff of it.

ERNS Celestia and ERNS Luna were the only ships in the Pony navies he wasn’t confident in victory against. Luckily ERNS Celestia had been bombed in port at the start of the war, and ERNS Luna was presumed out of action after being torpedoed by a pair of aggressive destroyers during its last sortie. Now though, he had the most fearsome ship on the continent bearing down on his exposed flank.

Lysander galloped back into the bridge and issued a flurry of orders “All mounts local control, turn starboard and concentrate all fire on the battleship. Fire as they bear! Tell CHS Changeling Supreme and CHS Inexorable Phalanx to follow our fire!”

The guns on the lead ship of the battlecruiser line lumbered its guns starboard. Behind it, the next two battleships in the line also lumbered their guns over. Their volley was near synchronous, the thunder of guns was deafening. The force of the guns was so much, the whole ship shook.

Lysander trained his binoculars towards the ERNS Luna, watching as flashes ran up and down the ship in double time. They weren’t even measuring range, already having found it, they were just throwing shells at his ships. Then an explosion, followed by two more in rapid succession. Some magnificent gunner had gotten the range right first try.

There was no time to celebrate however, as shells started to land around them. CHS High Tower was bracketed by heavy shells, the ships behind them taking two hits between them. The Equestrians were shooting well today, they knew the stakes just as he did.

Tearing his attention away from the artillery duel, Lysander orientated his binoculars towards the rest of the Equestrian fleet. His other capital ships were doing a good job of pummelling them, but they were making good speed away. The Equestrian cruisers and destroyers having delayed his ships long enough for the carriers to have slipped out of gun range.

“Sir!” A lookout shouted “An Equestrian destroyers broken through the screen.”

The clash of destroyers in the no man’s land hadn’t left his thoughts. Driving his way through the bridge and out onto the far lookout deck; sure enough, Lysander sited a single Equestrian destroyer in a headlong charge towards his fleet. A good torpedo volley was all it would take for his battleline to collapse.

The range was staggeringly close, just 1 mile out. As the guns thundered at the distant ERNS Luna again, the CHS High Towers secondary guns opened up on the aggressive destroyer. Then the destroyer turned to port.

Stunned by the destroyer turning away for a moment, Lysander realised it had a different target. The heavy cruiser CHS Ponies Folly was the closest ship to the destroyer, and a worthy prize. The destroyers bow was pointed right at the heavy cruiser, its speed increasing.

With its broadside now visible, Lysander could make out its wrecked torpedo tubes and signs of damage. It was toothless, except for its mass. Even CHS High Tower shook again, and then rocked with the impact of a shell slamming it, Lysander paid no mind.

The scarred changeling admiral watched the heavy cruiser desperately manoeuvre as the destroyer approached. Then the impact, the small destroyer crashing bow first into the larger ship, both rocked. The plucky destroyer kept going, its mass practically disintegrating against more armoured ship.

Then they parted, the destroyer almost immediately flipping over and disappearing under the waves. CHS Ponies Folly meanwhile began to heavily list to one side, it was a miracle the ship didn’t also tip over. Perhaps they’d already counter-flooded the opposite end to offset the damage.

Striding back into the bridge, Lysander barked “We can’t keep this up. Prepare to have the fleet begin to withdraw north.”

It was crushing, just minutes ago, they were victorious, now they were doomed. The Equestrians had drawn his ships into a horseshoe position, his ships firepower halved by the head on attack, while the Equestrian heavy units were broadsiding them at will.

Damage to his fleet was light so far, but it was a battle he couldn’t win today. If he could withdraw north in good order and reposition west, then this was still winnable. But now, now would take an act of divine intervention to defeat the better positioned Equestrians. Tomorrow he’d come back with a new plan.

“New contacts sir, airborne targets incoming from the north.” A radar operator called.

Well shit, if those were from the New Mareland or Puerto Canadian carriers, then they were royally screwed. Lysander doubted that they were his own, the Olenians were in battle with the entire revolutionary navy; and noling had any idea where Recina was.

“They’re ours!” A lookout shouted, joy in her voice.

“Are you sure?” Lysander asked, his voice once again being drowned out by the thunder of the battlecruisers guns.

“Positive, they’re our carrier aircraft.” The same lookout answered.

Lysander paused for a moment, trust his instincts, or gamble it all? Fuck it, it was time to trust fate. “Delay the withdrawal order, have the cruiser and destroyer wing get as close to the Equestrian carriers as they can, sink anything they find.” The admiral turned to the communications officer “Tell CHS Changeling Supreme and CHS Inexorable Phalanx to follow us into a turn. I want the rest of division 1 and all of division 2 cutting southeast, rear admiral Chirp’s discretion for what she shoots at.”

High above the ensuing fleet battle, the air wing of CHS Hives Victorum had finally arrived on station for their attack. The lone carrier had launched its entire air group, and even directed its entire CAP away for the coming battle. Leaving his carrier completely undefended was a risky move, but one which may just carry the day. Bolstered by the aircraft emergency landing from CHS Queen Helvia, some 100 aircraft were currently racing towards the Equestrian fleet.

Around half the group were fighters, the Meer Wulf aircraft, the rest being a mixture of torpedo bombers and dive bombers. They could turn the tide of battle in Lysander favour, all they needed was a good run.

The skies ahead were jammed with Equestrian fighters, aircraft who’d previously had free rein over the air. The Equestrian aircraft came in piecemeal, picking off one or two bombers and fighters here or there. It was an ideal situation for the Changeling carrier forces.

Lysander watched bellow as the aircraft began their attack run, it seemed that they’d selected the heavy surface units as their targets. Splitting into two groups, the carrier aircraft went after the ERNS Luna and its escorts and the mixture of Equestrian battleships and heavy cruisers screening the carriers a few miles out.

His fleet too had parted, the battlecruisers dividing to attack the Equestrian carriers. Closing on the ERNS Luna, Lysander could almost feel the victory that would soon be his. How fortune had shifted again: he’d had victory, lost it and potentially gained it again in the span of about 10 minutes. That of course relied on him sinking that damnable ship.

The world turned white, everything was ringing, and everything hurt. Staggering to his hooves, Lysander felt his pupils shrink at the carnage around him. Sitting in the middle of the bridge was an unexploded shell. The impact force and direction of explosion weapon had butchered most of the bridge crew, only three other changelings were definitely alive in the room.

Stumbling outside onto the viewing deck, he saw the true carnage of the ship. The ERNS Luna had fired a brilliant volley, and he’d suffered for it. The fire control director tower, just wasn’t there anymore. Turret 2 and 3 were bent horribly out of shape, the midship was burning, and the superstructure more akin to Flowenan cheese.

Things then got worse. Another volley from the ERNS Luna descended on his ships, this time on CHS Changeling Supreme. In any admirals worst nightmare, the shells plunged through the deck and deep into the bowls of the ship. The vessel lit up like a Roaman candle, then split in two. Both halves of the vessel drifting apart from each other.

As the bow slipped beneath the waves, CHS Changeling Supreme’s turret 1 let off a final shot, scoring an improbable hit on ERNS Luna’s radar array. Then it slipped beneath the waves, taking nearly 2000 changelings with it. CHS Inexorable Phalanx behind it swerved port to avoid the wreckage, momentarily taking it out of the fight. For now, it was just Lysanders crippled battlecruiser against the pride of the Equestrian navy.

Staggering back onto the bridge Lysander saw one of the surviving officers had taken up the radar station. The changeling fiddled with the knobs before looking at the admiral “Turret 1 is requesting orders, what should I tell them?”

Wiping a trail of blood off his forehead, Lysander sighed. He knew what he had to do, the fire control director was dead, no one was sighting the gun. The HivesAdmiral was perhaps the only living changeling on the ship qualified to manually aim the gun, the only one who could.

Two more officers galloped into the room, the chief engineer and commander of the ship. The timing was impeccable “commander Stinger, you have the con. I’m going to manually fire turret 1.”

The commander barely hesitated “aye sir I have the con. Sealing, go with the HivesAdmiral, keep in contact.” The commander pointed a hoof at another one of the bridge survivors. The young changeling carried a radio, he could keep Lysander talking to the bridge.

Without another word between the two, Lysander galloped onto the observation deck and leapt over the barrier. Extending his wings, the HivesAdmiral caught himself midair and drifted to the deck. Thank Chrysalis none of the shrapnel had tore his wings up, otherwise he’d be needing a Oberarzt to clean his remains off the deck.

The deck was anarchy, and the 20-metre sprint to the turret was the single longest trip of the changelings life. Shrapnel filled the air around him like flies on a summers day. AA guns continued to keep up a steady stream of fire, all the while Equestrian fighters strafed the deck, and bombs landed around them.

The ship shook like it was stuck in a perpetual earthquake. Explosions going off so often, that they merged together into one continuous screaming sound. All around him, were dead changelings, wounded sailors crying for help, and Oberarzt’s tending to those they could.

Galloping as fast as his legs would go, he charged into the single remaining turret and found the gun crew still manning their stations. Despite the anarchy, the navy’s discipline held together.

The room was full of hectic shouts as the various changelings argued about what to do in the absence of orders. Piled roughly in the corner, were the bodies of the original gun crew, killed by a direct hit previously.

The 5 changelings in the cramped room immediately stopped their bickering the moment Lysander entered. Immediately, he started barking orders and whipping the sailors back into shape. “Fire control is down, I’m taking direct command of this gun.” He shouted as the entire ship shook with another hit.

“FCD’s out, how are we supposed to hit them?” One gunner asked.

“Leave that to me!” Lysander announced.

Situated behind the guns themselves, was an open section filled with range finding equipment. Here too, the bodies of the original gun crew lay dead. The bodies remained at their stations, the crew dying at their post.

Climbing into the slightly elevated section, Lysander sighed in dismay. The radar rangefinder was broken, likely knocked out along with the FCD. That left only the old-fashioned way. Luckily, he was the (self-proclaimed) best gunner in the Kriegsmarine.

Locked into the ceiling was a periscope, if all electronics failed, the gunner could target the guns through a range table, and the Coincidence rangefinder situated on top of the turret. It was old fashioned, but worked just as well; any gunner worth their rank could use one of these.

Luckily for Lysander, he’d already memorised the range table. It was a piece of knowledge he’d written off as completely useless years ago, thank the hive he’d remembered it. As Lysander figured out the range, the carrier fighters made their runs on the ERNS Luna. Maybe three bomb hits and one or two torpedoes belted into the battleship.

Triangulating the range, Lysander huffed “range 10000 yards and decreasing. Fire at 20 yard intervals, turn this turret 5 degrees left.”

Following his orders, the turret span ever so slightly to the left. The gun crews meanwhile locked in the range, each of the 3 guns parted, preparing to fire a spread of shells. Falling to the ground, the gunners opened their mouths and put hooves over their ears.

“Fire!”

The sound was deafening. Three guns, of a calibre capable of causing minor earthquakes, fired simultaneously. Lysander could actually feel the sound travelling through his body. For just a moment, he envied Trimmel for being deaf.

Shaking out of his stunned trace, Lysander took control of the turret again. “Reload AP, retarget 9900 yards and closing at 20 yard intervals.”

Shouting and the grinding of metal from the direction of the guns was all Lysander needed to hear. These sailors were carrying out their duty despite the hardships of the situation. The Changeling admiral briefly wondered where these lings had come from, they weren’t the original gun crew afterall.

“Reloaded and retargeted sir!” One of the crewmen reported.

“Fire!”

Once again, Lysanders whole world was turned upside-down by the sound wave. Rippling through him on its way into the outside world. He almost missed this, being a gun captain was noble work and one of the most important jobs in battle.

Pulling his eyes away from the periscope, Lysander grabbed a pocket watch in his magic. Holding it up, the changeling watched the seconds tick by.

“Sir!” The radioling send with Lysander called “commander stinger reports a new group of air contacts coming from the east! It’s a group of 27 coastal command aircraft. Looks like they’re going for the carriers.”

Well that had come from nowhere. There were countless questions to be asked about their sudden appearance: how had they know where the battle was, how did they arrive at exactly the right time, how in the hives were they miles beyond their fuel limit?

Coastal command bombers could only be out here if… oh. The pilots were miles beyond their fuel limit, they wouldn’t have enough to return home; this was a one-way mission. Those pilots had taken this flight, with the knowledge that death was a certainty. Unless they’d found his ships and managed to ditch in their general vicinity.

He had only a moment to reflect on their bravery before duty called once again. Pressing his eyes to the rangefinder again, Lysander watched as the first round of three shells splashed into the water just beyond the battleship. A few seconds later, the next three landed, and a single hit was scored a midship.

Tearing himself away, the changeling threw himself at the gunnery desk. Grabbing a range sheet, he began to furiously scribble down calculations. “Ask the bridge for our course and speed!” He shouted at the radioling.

After a few moments, Lysander was presented with a series of number he added into the equation. Scribbling down numbers and throwing around numbers in his head, Lysander finally got an answer 9978 feet. He’d found his range.

“All guns to fire at a range of 9978 feet, continuous rolling barrage!” He barked.

The next few minutes, Lysander truly was deaf. The loaders pushing in the enormous armour piercing shells, and the gunners adjusting their aim and firing. Every 25 second, another shell flew into the air. Watching through the periscope, Lysander watched as the fruits of their labour paid their due. Hit after hit was scored on the enormous battleship, the shells piercing its armour.

Some landed high, peppering the superstructure and setting it ablaze. Others punched through the deck and set off smaller secondary explosions. One hit buried itself in the aft turret, the resulting explosion throwing the turret a hundred feet into the air.

The battle was also rejoined by the CHS Inexorable Phalanx. The other battlecruiser had come around after its evasive manoeuvres and had moved about to cover Lysanders crippled battleship. Now she joined in firing broadsides at the ERNS Luna. The fight was one-sided and decided by another torpedo hit from a straggling aircraft.

Lysander knew what it was like to be battered by more numerous enemy ships; pure hell on earth. On the receiving end of this, was the ERNS Luna, which was pummelled for seven hellish minutes. It wasn’t a good fate, wasn’t a good way out.

As the battleship was being shelled, the radioling tapped Lysander’s shoulder to get his attention and shouted at the admiral over the noise “coastal command aircraft have hit 4 carriers, the Equestrian fleet is burning and in full retreat!”

Lysander could have kissed the radioling. He definitely would have if they were a couple feet closer. This was a victory, and sweet victory. The ship shook again, another hit being scored on his ship. Lysander brought himself back to the present, and the danger. The ERNS Luna was still bearing down on them.

If Lysander was captaining that ship, he’d stay behind. If the rest of the fleet was to withdraw in good order and without the risk of a running battle, there’d need to be a rearguard. She’d stay behind and fight to the end, it’s what he’d do.

Neither ship was really in a good position to be fighting right now. Lysander own flagship CHS High Tower and ERNS Luna had both taken dozens of hits, fires and debris rendering the superstructure nearly uninhabitable. Their crews were exhausted and wounded, guns knocked out, and engines flooding.

Despite that, Lysanders crew fought on, backed up by the rest of the fleet. In the face of uncertain odds, the Equestria crew also fought on. No transmissions of surrender were sent out and the blue battle ensign still flew.

Lysander directed more and more fire onto the lone battleship which put itself between the Changelings and the retreating Equestrian fleet. Taking fire from the entire Changeling 2nd fleet, return fire from ERNS Luna quickly dwindled to nothing.

Stepping away from the turret, Lysander watched the deck of the battleship through the periscope. Watching pony’s abandon ship and fight fires, it was the first time he’d ever actually seen the enemy. Fire continued to pour onto the ship, cutting down the ponies where they stood.

They couldn’t shoot back, they couldn’t hurt them anymore. At this point, it wasn’t a battle, it was murder. The changeling Hivesadmiral turned to the radioling “Tell the fleet to wave off the pursuit and pick up survivors, ponies and changelings. That’s enough fighting for one day.”

With the guns having fallen silent, Lysander suddenly felt the silence was deafening. It seemed to be ringing, maybe he’d got tinnitus in the past half hour. On autopilot, Lysander congratulated the gunners and gave a few words about their skill and bravery.

Making his way outside and onto the deck, Lysander trotted through the chaos to the bow. From here, he watched the titan that was the ERNS Luna collapse into the water, slowly slipping beneath the waves. The radioling who’d diligently followed him also watched in grim fascination.

The water around it was filled with small boats picking up survivors and ponies trying to stay above the water. There were too few for Lysanders liking, only a few hundred at most, battleships had crews of thousands.

“Tell the bridge to take us over and start picking up survivors.” Lysander told the radioling.

As his orders were repeated, the enormous battleship finally went under. As its bow went under, a single pony stood on bow holding the Equestrian battle ensign aloft. The changeling took off his hat and waved it at the Equestrian.

This war wasn’t over, the Equestrians spirit was unbroken. As long as the ponies didn’t consider themselves defeated, they weren’t beaten. The Equestrian navy may have been beaten today, retreating with their heavy assets burning; but the war on the continent still raged, and this victory was meaningless if Trimmel failed to capitalise on it. At least he’d stop complaining about a lack of oil now they import it again.

Author's Note

I'm still figuring out how to use this website lol, just figured out I can Italicise stuff.

Anyways, this is the end of the navy arc for now. Mimic is still alive, so is Lysander, Helvias fate and what happened to the Olenians will be revealed next chapter. Honestly, it's hard to write a full naval battle without it getting confusing. I went through a few rewrites and still aren't fully happy with this version, but I'll post it now or never get it out.

Next chapter will be more chill, focusing on just a few characters having a conversation and a small action bit setting up the next arc. I'll also drop some info on what happened to Flurry if anyone's desperate for that.

I'm going to be honest, this whole changeling arc is going on longer than I planned. I've got the next arcs and sections planned and its longer than I originally thought it would be. So I'm going to try and cut down on chapter length (back to 6ish K) and get them out a bit faster from now on. Unless people like the longer chapters, in which case I'll just keep chugging along.

Alamein Box

9 miles out from the Alamein line; command detail, Kampfgrupper Pharynx.

Pharynx always hated the hours before a battle, the anticipation of the coming bloodshed always weighed heavily on him. But after so many years of war, he’d gotten his pre-battle routine down. It always helped relax him before hours of slaughter.

A dozen paces from the fortified camp, the changeling general sat under a lone tree, a newspaper clutched in his magic. Next to the changeling, rested a tin of jam tarts. For whatever reason, the sweet treats always calmed him down. The sweet treats took an unholy amount of requisition forms to get out here, but damn was it worth it.

Blocking out all sound around him, Pharynx was engrossed in the passages and columns of the Vestiopolis times. Although mostly about the war, stories of children’s plays and carpenter awards were a welcome refresher from the usual grim casualty figures.

The crossword was always a favourite of his, although the times had received numerous angry letters from the general over some truly horrible clues on occasion. The racing page was also a highlight, newer technologies pushing ever more advanced cars to even higher speeds.

All was perfect, except for the griffon lying just a few feet away from him. Pharynx detested the Griffons presence, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. The mercenary was assigned here personally by the Great Queen, nothing he said or did would get rid of him.

Gerhardus Omsclaw, of Skyfall heritage. Pharynx hadn’t met him until last week, but he’d always kept his type at legs length; soldiers of fortune who actively sought out the horror of war for money and ‘glory’. There was no glory in war, just death.

According to Trimmel and Queen Chrysalis, he came very highly recommended from Archon Boreas himself. Rumours even persisted that Prince Grover VI considered Gerhardus a friend. How a common mercenary could manage that was beyond him. Pharynx hadn’t read his record, but he at least knew that the mercenary wasn’t just a product of nepotism.

Luckily he was quiet enough, not disturbing the changelings quiet time, perhaps he had a similar routine? The Griffon was currently lying face up underneath the tree, a pitch-black beret covering his face, and rosary beads of the trinity clutched in his paw. Quiet prayers in his native Skyfall tongue were the only sound he made.

Aside from the pitch-black beret, his attire was utilitarian. Patchy white and grey arctic camo covered virtually his whole body. Meanwhile a unique sort of cape had also been fastened over his wings; camouflaging the one part of the body most griffons forgot or simply couldn’t cover.

Pharynx had also sent a few infiltrators to examine the rest of his luggage. Among the various other types of camouflage he packed, a combat vest was also found, small steel plates hidden in the layers of fabric made it a rare bulletproof vest.

Lastly were his weapons, one of which lay in the snow next to him. The Reich pattern FG-42 assault rifle was a rare weapon even inside the Reichsmarine, a formidable rifle which the rest of the world could only dream of. Packed away in his luggage, was an Aquileia MAS-36, a solid rifle. A collection of grenades also adored his belt. Finally, a Browning Hi-power pistol and selection of fairbairn-Sykes knives finished the ensemble.

A selection of rare and high-quality weapons, a personal recommendation from the Imperial regent, and a career apparently illustrious enough for Chrysalis to give him joint command? Either he was very good at marketing, or a damned good soldier. Admittedly Pharynx was quite behind in military news outside of Eqqus.

Pharynx lowered his newspaper and briefly glanced across the rolling hills, devoid of any life. 9 miles that way, were the concentrated forces of the Crystal Imperial army, holding the Alamein line. Recon aircraft had painted a grim picture, a strong position reinforced with major earthworks and forts.

The ponies had dug in around a railway junction connected straight to the Crystal city, they’d be getting constant and undisrupted resupplies. Their position also had a height advantage and was anchored on impassible mountains and dense snowdrifts. Nothing but a frontal attack was remotely possible without weeks of preparation.

It wouldn’t be easy to break, but it was possible. As long as the Equestrians somewhere to their south didn’t dash north, then it would be a relatively even fight. The Imperial army had concentrated almost all of their armour in this narrow battlefield, and enough infantry to make him sweat. It would probably shape up to be the largest tank battle fought on Eqqus.

Begrudgingly, the Griffons skillset would be useful here. Pharynx had asked around about his experience, apparently he was a veteran siege engineer, of Skyfall fame. A fortress buster with experience in Griffonia probably wasn’t the worst individual to have around, even if Pharynx didn’t like him.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by the arrival of another changeling, General Elvir Roland. The other panzer general had merged his forces with Pharynx’s for the upcoming battle, now he reported to Pharynx. Luckily the two had a fine working relationship, so command wouldn’t devolve into an arguing committee.

“The men are doing good, well-motivated and ready for a fight. The double rations are helping.” Roland reported as he collapsed to the ground and levitated his hat off. “Gerhardus right?” Roland asked, pointing a hoof at the griffon.

The griffon in question pushed himself up, pulling the beret off his face and returning it to his head. Slowly he returned the Trinity beads to his pocket and turned to face Roland “Yes that is I. Roland right?”

“Yeah that’s me.” Roland replied, glad to be recognised “I’ve done some reading on you, distinguished career you’ve got.”

“Thanks, I mostly follow the money and bullet. It just so happens that the most money often means the most bullets.” Gerhardus laughed and Roland joined in, although Pharynx doubted he knew what was funny.

“You’ve done a lot of work for the Reich I hear.” Roland continued “you got some big wig shelling out the idols over there?”

“Archon Eros actually.” Gerhardus chuckled “good Griff. Actually appreciates my skills, plus he thinks I’m a good influence on Grover.”

Of course Roland would be interested in the griffon, Roland was a media personality and absolutely would get the mercenaries details, another story to spout off to a camera. At least the spotlight hadn’t affected Roland’s ability and judgements as a battlefield commander.

“Got any interesting contracts lined up? Except us obviously.” Roland asked. “Or maybe just interesting jobs you’ve had in the past?”

The griffon brought a clawed paw up to his face, running the talon through the slightly ruffled feathers. “I get a lot of interesting job offers, lot of boring ones I turn down as well; worst was when Flowerina offered me 250G idols to guard their vaults. I mean that’s a lot of money, but my skills would be wasted there. Most interesting one I’ve had recently, which I’m allowed to talk about, would be the Rider one. Heard of them?”

Pharynx actually lowered his newspaper, he’d heard the name Rider get tossed around recently, although he didn’t have any clue who they were. It seemed as if Roland didn’t know either, judging by the way his head tilted. Perhaps he’d listen in on this one.

“Interesting group, also go by the Rhidesians on occasion. They’re a griffon movement seeking to establish a new home for griffons on Zebrica, a place for the exiles and refugees of the continent displaced by war. They’re led by an interesting chap, Cedric Rhides, of New Mareland descent. Former entrepreneur, may have heard of his North Zebrican railway project a few years back.” Gerhardus explained.

“Railway got mentioned once or twice, why’d it fall through?” Pharynx surprised himself by answering this one, was he part of this conversation now?

“Well you know how Coltage has been in constant civil war since Boreas created the universe, and that the Knife eared bastards just suck generally? That’s why.” Gerhardus explained “good plan, unfortunately those two screwed it up for everyone else.”

Pharynx could understand that, Coltage being in near constant infighting, and the Chirropterans generally hating everyone would have messed it up. There were increasing border clashes between them and the Hippogriffs though, if the fishes finally went to war and won it, perhaps a North Zebrican Railway could finally be made.

“Anyway, these Rhidesians have been steadily building up for a few years now. They’re still a small group, but Cedric’s personal wealth and a lot of outside funding, no I can’t tell you who, means they’re surprisingly well equipped. Plus, they’re mostly vets from the various conquered countries of Griffonia, so battle hardened, well-funded, and with a clear goal.” Gerhardus explained.

“What did a rebel group like them want from you?” Pharynx questioned.

“Well they’re not rebels, currently they’re an unaligned paramilitary group. From me, they were just testing the waters, seeing if I’m worth hiring at some point in the future. Good news is that I impressed, made a downpayment for services in the future.” The griffon smugly chuckled.

“You think they can do it? Take over a country in Zebrica I mean.” Roland sceptically asked.

“I think they can. Sure they don’t have the resources for pitched battles right now; but give it a few years, and a particularly weak government, and they’ve got a real shot.” The griffon nodded. “But enough about me, how’s the campaign going?”

“I actually just got off the net with Trimmel, Pharynx you’ll want to hear this too, and I’ve got good news on two fronts.” Roland announced.

The changeling general sighed and dropped his newspaper to the snowy ground. Unfortunately this had turned into a business meeting, shame. At least the news was good, something to lift the men’s moral even further, although a double ration of schnapps would also the job just as well.

“Firstly, our friends in the navy did it. The Olenians and our Kriegsmarine forces sent the joint pony fleets packing with heavy losses. The Red navy of Staliongrad was routed in a close-range night action by the Olenians, a joint force of aircraft from the Olenians and HivesAdmiral Helvia knocked out all but one of the Pony carriers, and Lysander gave them a right thrashing with his battlecruisers. Reports are still coming in, but it seems Mimic went ham during the night as well, and sent an unknown number of Pony ships to the bottom as they retreated.” Roland explained.

“Good fucking news, think we’ll finally start importing oil again?” Pharynx questioned. The chronic oil shortages of the Hedgemony had been their biggest logistical challenge of the entire war, lack of fuel was perhaps the most important factor to this war not already being over. Importing fuel from saddle Arabia again would keep the war industry churning. All they needed now was to reclaim to coal fields in the Northern Protectorate.

“Probably, I hear we’ve already signed a deal with Saddle Arabia.” Roland laughed “horses saw an opportunity for profit and they took it.”

The changeling wiped a tear out of his eye before continuing “In other news, the army of the North retook the coal fields.”

Pharynx’s eyes widened and his head swivelled to face Roland. For once, he didn’t even bother to hide the expression of shock he wore. The army of the north had been in a stalemate for over a year now, failing to advance even a mile. Either they’d hit hard and fast, or some communist was about to get executed for incompetence.

“How in the world did they manage that!” The general exclaimed “I’ve seen those lines, countless forts and readouts, a horrible supply situation and the winter should have made the advance completely impossible.”

“I’ve seen the lines too.” Gerhardus joined in, although markedly less enthusiastically than the changelings “how’d they crack them?”

“From what Trimmel told me, a Jaegar and Panzerbijorn brigade advanced with a blizzard to their back. Infiltrated their lines and created enough of a breech for the army to pour through. Apparently, the communists dismantled their back line defences to reinforce the front a few weeks ago, once the PanzerGrenadiers got through and could manoeuvre, it was all over.” Roland explained. “It’s an ongoing battle, but they’ve advanced 20 miles so far, and seem like they’re going to keep going. The communist Army of the Red facing them seems to be disintegrating.”

“Well good on them then! That’s going to keep Trimmel happy.” Pharynx enthusiastically shouted. He truly meant it as well, the Northern forces had cut their teeth through some truly awful situations and suffered the highest casualty rates for basically nothing. Even Trimmel had written off any advance as impossible, and he could work with basically anything. It was brilliant for moral, even his.

“Speaking of Trimmel, he told me to tell you that he won’t be flying out to take command.” Gerhardus began “Soarin’s launched a surprise attack against Larynx, he’s going to take command over there.”

“The Equestrians are fighting back? Didn’t think they had the fight in them.” Roland chuckled.

“Bluebloods a tough bastard, don’t count his army out while he’s still breathing. Last time I saw him, I got the impression that he had a plan.” The griffon yawned.

Gerhardus got up onto his four paws and began to stretch out. Popping muscles in his back and legs. Then he opened his wings out and started delicately preening them with his razor-sharp claws. If he suddenly needed to take off, cleaned wings and warm muscles would get him in the air quickly.

As a changeling, and thus insect descended, Pharynx and Roland couldn’t really relate to that. Their wings were more fragile than a griffons, but they could grow back given the right circumstances and a good infusion of love. Their maintenance was as simple as a gentle scrub with soapy water.

For a while there was silence between the trio. No one really wanted to discuss military matters just before a battle anyway, too grim. Gerhardus just continued preening his wings, Pharynx turned back to his paper, and Roland idly drew circles in the snow.

In the fortified camp just ahead of them, Heer soldiers went through their own pre battle routines. Some prayed while others laughed, a few cowered and others embraced their imminent deaths. Tank commanders wrote jokes on shells, and some soldiers wrote their names on bullets.

A few things were universal, before every big push, the sheer issued a ration of: Schnapps, tobacco and Scho-Ka-Kola. The niceties put frayed nerves at ease, and the caffeine stimulants would keep soldiers active if the fighting dragged on and on.

Even the officers indulged in it, Pharynx himself had a small box of Scho-Ka-Kola next to him which he would grab bite sized pieces from. Roland was a smoker, so he’d be participating in the tobacco ration. ‘Bullets and nicotine make the world go around’, that’s what he’d always say. Pharynx popped another piece of chocolate into his mouth and began to chew, chocolate made the world move for him.

“So what’s the deal with Trimmel and Chrysalis?” Their griffon friend blurted out.

Both tanker generals glanced at each other, confused, and then back at Gerhardus. Frankly, neither knew what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” Roland questioned.

“They shagging or what?” He elaborated.

Two distinct reactions came from Roland and Pharynx. The formers pupils seemed to shrink, his mouth uselessly opening and closing without any words coming out. The latter meanwhile sucked in a hard breath and proceeded to begin choking on the chocolate.

After uttering a long string of curses and saving himself from death by chocolate, Pharynx uttered “you what?”

“Guess that’s news to you then.” The griffon muttered, a smirk gracing his beak “I’ve met them separately and together, if those two haven’t gotten freaky at least once, shoot me.”

A strange strangling sound came from Roland next to them. The changeling didn’t seem to know how to react, obviously it made a lot of sense. “I think you broke Elvir.”

“I think I have, let me just reset him quickly.” Gerhardus quickly grabbed a grenade from his belt and tossed it at Roland.

Shaking out of his stupor, Roland caught the grenade in one hoof and began comically juggling it “oh shit oh shit oh shit!”

He shouted before tossing it somewhere down the hill “are you crazy!”

Their griffon companion let out a hearty laugh “Relax I didn’t pull the pin. Now you’re back, you think they fucking?”

“I mean…” the tanker began “now that you say it, I can see it. But the queen can be crazy, how would he…”

“Well if anyone’s got the guts,” Pharynx intervened “it’d be Trimmel. Guess he really is the bravest changeling alive.”

“Only if it’s true!” Roland tried to defend.

“Which I’m sure it is.” Gerhardus interrupted, his voice going all sing song.

“But there’s no proof, you’ve got no proof!” The changeling angrily shouted.

“And I didn’t have any proof when I told the tabloids that Gherita Zarfatti was Beakolinis mistress. Look how that turned out.” A toothy smile graced his beak, a humorous sight. “Tell you what, of all the times I’ve run for the border, that was by far the best.”

“You’re crazy.” Pharynx murmured, getting another piece of chocolate.

Their griffon friend just snorted indignantly “Our jobs are to get shot at and try not to die, I think all of us are crazy.”

“Best for you, you’ve not got any family to go back to.” Roland uttered “My wife would kill me if I died out here.”

Privately, Elvir was quite the family man. Happily married for a decade at this point, and father to a pair of little girls. Pharynx had met them once at an officers ball, they were such sweet little things. Of all the generals who could have a happy home life, Elvir definitely wouldn’t be anylings first guess.

“The joys of being an orphan.” The griffon chuckled. There was no regret in his voice, just acceptance. “I’ve got a few friends, mostly griffs from the same orphanage as me. What about you Pharynx, got anyone asides from your brother?”

The changeling in question stiffened; and Roland coughed as he turned away, suddenly finding the clouds very interesting. Talking about Thorax was a no-go around Pharynx. Everling believed it was because of his burning hatred of his brother; when actually it was because he could barely live with himself to fight him.

The truth was, if Thorax walked up right now and asked him to defect, he would. It was a truth never spoken aloud, and one he wouldn’t survive voicing. He was already on thin ice with the Queen, only Trimmel defending his skills, and his own vigorous pursuit of war saved him from the chopping block. Vaspier was a bloody ling, even thinking those thoughts was dangerous.

He often wondered what Thorax was doing now. His Free Army was still active somewhere in Equestria, fighting for the liberation of the hives alongside the ponies. Perhaps he was somewhere out there, lined up for battle alongside the Crystal imperial army.

“I’m going to take your silence as a no then.” Pharynx was torn from his thoughts by the griffon.

“I don’t want to talk about my traitor of a brother.” He spat at the griffon. However much it repulsed him to call Thorax a traitor.

“Fair enough.” Gerhardus was silent for a moment, before he procured an envelope from seemingly thin air and tossed it at Pharynx.

The changeling caught the letter with his magic and grumbled quietly. It was amazing how quickly his opinion of their griffon could be swayed. It was steadily increasing just before he’d pried in Pharynx’s personal life. Now it had dropped back to him being a scummy mercenary.

He glanced at the envelope, wait that wasn’t right. His name was written on the front, but it was his brothers hoof-writing. So many questions rattled around in his head, one was louder than all the others. He turned to stare at the Griffon, still preening his wings, and asked the most obvious question “How?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about your brother.” He sounded so smug, a cocky grin covering his beak. Pharynx could have punched him “My last job was for the Reich, I was escorting Princess Flurry Heart across the border. Goof cub by the way, a lot like Grover. Anyway, I briefly interacted with the Crystal Royal family while picking here up and your brother was with them. That letter is to be opened in the event of his death.” The Griffon explained.

Pharynx said nothing more as he stuffed the letter into his coat. This was mental baggage to unpack later. The only loose end was…

“I heard nothing.” Roland coughed.

…Not a problem anymore, that went unexpectedly well. Perhaps having a family made Roland uniquely able to sympathise with him or something. Whatever the reason was, at least he knew to keep his mouth shut this time. Hopefully, if V.O.P.S. showed up tonight then he’d blabbed.

“Soooo, going past secret stuff. Are you worried about the upcoming battle?” Roland asked.

“No more than normal, why do you ask?” Pharynx replied. It wasn’t like Elvir to get cold hooves.

“Because somethings wrong.” Surprisingly it was Gerhardus who replied “I’ve nearly died enough times to know the feeling, the heaviness in the air, way my feathers feel electrified. Somethings going to go wrong.”

Pharynx only scoffed at that “Sure, I’m going to listen to your feathers over our intelligence. It’ll be a hard fight sure, but we’ll either win or withdraw.”

“Your confidence doesn’t fill me with confidence.” Gerhardus grumbled “If we withdraw from this position, the troops around Chicoltgo will be cut off. We’re fully committed to this position, which is never a good thing. If the Equestrians march north and bypass Chicoltgo, we’re outflanked and have to retreat or be encircled.”

“I thought you were a siege engineer, not a strategic analyst?” Pharynx huffed.

“I’ve been in the war game since I was 10 years old, you pick up a few things in that time.” The reply was stern, no mirth or smug grins accompanied it.

“You’ve been fighting that long? Why not just retire, I’m sure you’ve got enough money to.” Roland questioned. Like many, war was his job, but not his passion. He would certainly take peacetime parades over tank charges in war.

“A wise woman once told me ‘once your hearts in the battle, there’s no turning back’.” The Griffon simply replied.

Their companion flapped his wings twice, running air through the feathers. Nodding in approval, he folded them back up and slid them underneath the cape on his back. As he passed by Pharynx, Gerhardus reached into the forgotten tin of jam tarts and took one for himself. The engineer cast a glance around before starting to walk towards the camp.

“I’m going to drill your artillery crews and make sure they know what to do. Try to win this one would you.” Gerhardus took a few steps before turning his head to face Pharynx “And Pharynx, your brother has good intentions, you know what the road to Tartarus is paved by?” With that the griffon plodded away, not looking back.

Watching him leave, Roland hummed before nodded after the Griffon “I like him, bit rough around the edges but decent all-around.”

“I must confess” Pharynx began “He pisses me off, and I hate his lifestyle. But he’s not as terrible as I thought he would be, helps that he seems mentally stable.” The comments about his brother also annoyed the changeling to no end.

“He’s got a point, we shouldn’t cross out the Crystal imperial army. A few bad moves, and we’re in hot water.” Roland sighed “Call the ball, I’ll follow your lead.”

The mercenary was right, if the Equestrian army made a dash north, then they wouldn’t last long. It was a risk, but they likely wouldn’t have to face; inside intelligence suggested otherwise. Their spies had solid information that Princess Luna was planning to withdraw the army further south, and had drafted order for an immediate withdrawal in the event of a major Changeling attack.

“We go ahead, let him worry about those forts while we worry about that army.” Pharynx confidently affirmed “If the Equestrians do come after us, we’ll be ready.”

11 Hours later Alamein line

They weren’t ready. That single thought was all the bounced around Roland’s head as bits of dirt rolled off said head. Shells exploded around his tank, artillery from the Crystal Imperial army zeroed in on their position and hadn’t relented for the past few minutes. The ponies were the ones who were ready.

At a glance, Roland had assumed that Shining Armour was using his regular strategy of hard defensive boxes. So he’d deployed his forces in the regular formation as well, bypassing the presumed outer boxes and getting behind the Crystal army. His initial attacks had been repulsed with heavy losses, well sited Crystal batteries had created deadly killing fields and softened up the tip of the spear before Cromwell and Crusader tank brigades began to encircle the outer elements.

Elsewhere the battle was going poorly, the infantry attacks on the forts and boxes had been driven back with heavy losses. Only the attacks led by Gerhardus had seen any success, pushing the ponies back from the 1st line. Then the Equestrians had started to show up, and things truly went to shit.

Apparently, Marshal Blueblood had personally led the Equestrian 1st army north and was cutting deep into their flank. 103rd and 12th infantry blocking them had virtually disintegrated in the face of such awesome firepower. The units still intact had fled into Chicoltgo, but were under threat of encirclement there, the corridor to the city narrowing every minute.

Things were very confused down in Chicoltgo, surrounding units and formations were chaotically retreating in and out of the city, trying to get away from Bluebloods marauding 1st army. A few Jaegar and rifle divisions were holding the narrowing corridor out of the city, but Roland knew that the panzer’s and Jaegers in the city were doomed. If they managed to hold out a while, a breakout was possible; however unlikely.

Now Roland was doing all he could, trying to hold his position against attacks from Bluebloods forces and the Crystal Imperial Army from 3 different directions. His men were also doing their best, repulsing the attacks and staggering their retreats. They fought well, fighting for the Queen and their lives.

The Changelings gaze fell upon an unnamed hill just a mile east of his position, the Hegemony’s flag proudly flapping over it. The hill itself was anarchy, the blue flashes of magical weapons covering it, and the dust of artillery strikes hitting the far side of it. Jachs 96th rifles on that hill were possibly the only reason his position hadn’t been overrun yet, they were holding up two entire tank brigades beyond that rise. One of his spotters even reckoned he saw Jachs Jaegers fighting hand to hand with the Imperial Guard in their trenches.

Jachs was a good leader, and his men were veterans, Roland could count on them to hold the hill. Roland rose his head above the rim of his tank once again and growled at the battle around him. They weren’t ready for a defensive battle, and the ponies had the terrain advantage, attacking off the high ground and onto their flat and exposed position. Growling as he surveyed the situation around him, Roland knew they wouldn’t hold.

He’d have to pull the 96th off the hill or lose them entirely. This wasn’t an enviable situation; he’d have to pull back and reform on better ground or risk destruction. But pulling back would mean Pharynx would have to retreat as well, or lose contact with each other. Risk total destruction at the Equestrians hand, or Pharynx and the Queens for retreating.

At the same time, pulling the 96th off the hill early would release hundreds of deadly Cromwell and Firefly tanks onto his position. This manoeuvre would take some carful timing, especially since the Cromwells would easily run his slower tanks down.

“You!” he shouted at a random radioling “Tell General Pharynx that this position is untenable and I’m going to begin a withdrawal west, he should start doing the same as well.”

Gunfire erupted around Roland as he once again ducked for cover in his tanks turret. The blue beams of light indicating magical weaponry flew by the open air above him and scorched the armour of his tank black. The mixed automatic and bolt action fire returned as the general peered through his periscope.

Roland command centre was located just atop a very slight rise in the terrain, a fortified camp surrounded by hastily put up concrete walls and prefab pillboxes. It had the standard layout, a few wooden barriers and lots of temporary structures filled out the interior. A motor pool of various vehicles and especially tanks was also located somewhere else in the camp. Rolands personal brigade of PanzerGrenadiers and vehicles.

The site which greeted him outside was a horrible one, Pegasi wearing full body covering armour and faceless masks were storming his command position. Their armour was painted in an intimidating, if impractical, white and light blue camouflage. Their magic weapons, armour and colourings allowed him to easily identify their unit. These were Pegasi of Marshal Bluebloods House guard.

The professional troops of the former Princes household guard were one of the most feared units in the ponies arsenal. In the personal employ of Marshal Blueblood, the troops were arguably the best equipped and led in Eqqus, and had formed the most effective resistance to the Heer’s attacks thus far. A very stubborn all Pegasi unit, that had been employed by the Blueblood family for generations now.

Unhelpfully for Roland at this particular moment, they also didn’t take many prisoners. “Gunner, give those ponies the Coaxe!”

His tanks gunner gave no reply except the sound of the coaxial machinegun opening up and spraying the ground ahead of them. The front gunner also opened up, spraying the ahead of them and cutting into the troops. Meanwhile the Panzergrenadiers on the ground did their best to throw the Pegasi back over the barricade.

A confused close-range battle ensued, with almost no cover beyond the temporary buildings, it was deadly. The camp essentially turned into a shooting gallery, Ponies and changelings gunning each other down at close range and praying they weren’t next. Amid it all, Roland’s tank became a fortress which his men rallied around.

The machineguns of the Heer banged against the soft hum of the magic rifles as the PanzerGrenadiers held their camp. The pony attackers were in a bad position, to get into the camp they’d had to fly over the outer concrete wall; but with the defenders now alerted, AA guns made the sky the absolute last place anyling wanted to be. Once the ponies already in the camp were cut down, this attack was over.

Roland climbed out of his tank turret, wrapping both of his hooved around the 50 cal turret. The changeling was about to start randomly spraying into the growing cloud of smoke at the front of his command post when he was suddenly in the air. The wind seemed to have been knocked out of him as the changeling crashed down onto the ground.

Unknown to Roland, the entire purpose of this attack was his death. Killing the commander of the right flank, and one of the best tank commanders on the continent, would all but guarantee a crushing Heer defeat. When he’d dared to show his face, one of the Pegasi had flown straight at him and brought him out into the open where he could be executed for all to see.

This attack was a show of the unwavering loyalty the House guard had for their former prince, a one way mission to take out the changeling leader. The suicidal courage displayed was something rarely seen outside the knightly orders of Griffonia. Indeed the only other equivalent on Eqqus were the Queens guard.

As Roland opened his eyes and stared down the barrel of a gun, he accepted his fate. He made a silent prayer to whoever was listening, hoping they kept his family safe. Thankfully, the bullet didn’t have his name on it. A burst of gunfire cut down the Pegasi standing over Roland, and automatic fire ripped through the air. On instinct he drew his lugar, the pistol wrapped in a green magical aura, and began to fire at the ponies forms.

As the last of the pony forms either fell or disappeared, Roland turned to thank his rescuer. Of everyone on the battlefield, it was Gerhardus Omsclaw who’d come to his rescue. The Griffon in question clutching his FG-42 in both paws, as he walked around on two legs. The Griffon fired in short bursts before quickly changing target and firing again.

His aim was also good, never missing a shot. Finally, the droning of bullets ended, and the beams of magic return fire danced no more. Gerhardus held his ground, not lowering his guard or dipping the barrel of his gun. After a few second of silence he fired two more shots into a corpse lying nearby, the pony let out a cry before dying.

“Sound off, we clear?” he shouted in accented Hertzlandic.

A platoon of PanzerGrenadiers quickly combed the area, before one of them held up a hoof and shouted back “Clear!”

The Griffon finally relaxed, throwing his FG-42 around his shoulder in a practiced motion. Still on two legs, Gerhardus strolled over to the fallen changeling general and pulled the general to his feet. Walking around on two feet was really weird and would never not freak him out. Brushing the red snow and mud off Roland, Gerhardus finally collapsed onto all fours and huffed. “You seem to be doing well for yourself then.”

“Things haven’t been going well here, thanks for the save.” Roland breathed, “So the Equestrians are on us then.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

“Yeah, just heard it from the V.O.P.S guys about the chaos in Equestrian high command. Apparently, the army is in a full-blown mutiny.” Gerhardus took a breath before picking a canteen from his belt and taking a swig. He wiped his beak clear with a paw before offering it to Roland.

The changeling took it in his magic and took a grateful swig of the cool water. Handing it back over to the Griffon, Roland asked one of many burning questions in his mind “What do you mean about the Equestrians being in mutiny?”

“You know how Princess Luna is Commander-in-Chief? Well she ordered the Equestrian army to pull back and demanded the Crystal Imperial army did the same, that was about 10 hours ago. Well 5 minutes later, Marshal Blueblood gave conflicting orders for the Equestrian army to hold their ground.” Gerhardus explained as he checked his gun over and slid bullets into the empty mag “The army’s following Blueblood, they’re just flatly ignoring orders from Canterlot.”

“So the sisters now rule only in name?” Roland questioned.

“Yup, for all intents and purposes; Marshal Blueblood is the leader of Equestria now. The communists aren’t happy, but they’re not going to fight to restore a monarchy to absolute power.” Gerhardus confirmed “You’re pulling back now right?” he suddenly asked Roland.

“Yeah, I just had orders go out. We’re going west, back to the start line some 20 miles back.” Elvir confirmed.

“Good, then I need your fastest car.” The Griffon demanded as he swung the FG-42 onto his back, the gun resting between his wings.

“You aren’t running are you!” Roland near shouted.

“I’m not, I need to get in Chicoltgo before the corridor’s cut. You’re planning on trying to break the city out right?” The griffon pointed a razor-sharp claw at Roland who dumbly nodded “Good, I know the Equestrians siege capabilities, Boreas I taught them everything they know about urban warfare. I can get you at least 13 days, I can’t guarantee anything beyond that.”

The tanker changeling shook his head, debating exactly how crazy the Griffon had to be wanting to sprint into siege warfare. The griffon definitely had guts, and would definitely be worth his probably massive salary if he could pull off a successful defence. Having the siege expert in city would also considerably boost chances of survival for the troops soon-to-be trapped inside.

“Fair enough.” Roland pointed at the platoon of PanzerGrenadiers combing the bodies of the Pegasi attackers “Platoon fall in!” The elite armoured soldiers quickly fell in and awaited orders from their general. “This is Gerhardus Omsclaw, on personal detachment from our great Queen. You’re to get him into Chicoltgo no matter the cost. You’ve got 5 minutes to grab ammo and rations, then you have my permission to get the fastest vehicles from the pool and get him out of here.”

The soldiers saluted before scattering to several temporary structures, hastily assembling supplies and a few personal effects before they’d convene again at the motor pool. As the changelings took off, Gerhardus shook his head “Guess this is goodbye for now. See you in two weeks then.” He held out a clawed paw, and Roland obliged him.

Roland put his hoof in the outstretched paw “Don’t worry, I’ll reorganise the troops and come get you. Be a few days, but I’ll come get you.”

The two beings from different continents shook a hoof and a paw before turning away. One of them was bound to direct an army away, the other bound for urban warfare. Roland climbed back into his tank, and Gerhardus walked to the motorpool. The Griffon gave Roland one last glance, praying to Boreas that the changeling pulled through.

Author's Note

Introducing Gerhardus Omsclaw, an OC. I generally dislike OC's in fics like this, but I just wanted someone who can show up as a persistent villain/side character without awkwardly moving around existing characters. Let me know what you think of him, because his character is up for change personality wise.

I also introduced the Riders (Rhidesians). They're irrelevant now, but they're going to be important later for Grover's arc.

This chapter shows: the ponies being competent for once, Blueblood doing a background coup, Pharynx vibing, Shining doing a good job at fighting a war, Jachs getting into a just horrible situation (that's going to happen a lot), and Trimmel bedding Chrysalis (fkn legend). Fun to write, hope you enjoy.

Also going to be honest, half of this chapter was written on my phone and I haven't proof read it. So its probably a total mess lol.

The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 2)

3rd day of the siege of Chicoltgo, 5 in the morning.

One thing which was never mentioned whenever anyling talked about the Heer were the early mornings. Every day it was the same thing, get a good 4 hours of sleep and then spend the next 20 fighting for your life. Siege warfare however, really took it out of you; on the third day Radowitz was already exhausted.

Getting up early this morning, he was again kicked awake by Hardus. Apparently this was going to become a regular thing, at least it was more effective than an alarm clock. Hardus also only woke him up for important things, the Griffon was more than willing to put out minor fires and give him a few more minutes of rest.

Joseph had to agree, this was very important. Lying in a shattered house on their eastern perimeter, the two peered through various optics out of the city. With most of the outskirts having been torched to clear a line of fire, the two had an almost clear view for miles outside of the city. Through a telescope and binoculars, the two of them watched the same thing.

Bordering lake Solside the eastern perimeter was quiet, mostly shielded by the massive lake, fighting here had been low intensity and sporadic. On the other side of the frozen lake was the Crystal city of Hedgewards, and the flag of the Changeling Lands was flying over it.

Watching the city, the pair could see the occasional flash of guns and the crash of artillery shells. It was impossible to tell which unit it was, but at least some Changelings held the river bank of the city. Communication was impossible, the Crystal Imperial and Equestrian troops were listening to every frequency they were using.

The two needed to determine if they could do anything to help the fellow soldiers. Sending supplied over, reinforcing their position or evacuating them were all on the table. Unfortunately, the feasibility of every idea they came up with wasn’t good.

“Any idea what unit it is?” Hardus asked.

“I don’t know, could be any number of units which retreated from Alamein.” The changeling tanker murmured.

Adjusting his telescope, the Griffon mercenary focused on a shape by one of the building “I’m pretty sure that’s a tank, so they’re armoured.”

Joseph shook his head “It could just be a lone vehicle, its not unheard of a panzer platoon to get assigned to infantry.”

Hardus let out a quiet sound only describable as a tweet before pointing at a nearby Heer soldier. The house the pair occupied was also manned by three troops from the Special Naval Landing Force of all things. How Admiral Lysanders SNLF troops ended up here was honestly a mystery, but they were here none-the-less.

“You, find the nearest artillery officer and bring me their portable Stereoscopic rangefinder. Your naval infantry, you know what that is right?” the SNLF marine nodded before taking off out of the ruined building.

Sliding down from the broken wall, Hardus dropped his telescope to the ground as he took a seat. The Griffon was in deep thought, trying to figure out every way they could help the changelings trapped in Hedgeward. Beyond that, he also tried to calculate if the benefits of the additional griffpower was worth the risk.

Beyond that, they would be extra mouths to feed, and more potential Thoraxian troops. More changelings who’d need to maintain discipline, to arm and dole out rations of love to. Quietly, he wondered if it was better to leave them alone and let them absorb attacks which could otherwise be thrown against Chicoltgo.

As Joseph sat down next to him, the changeling Oberst continued his musings “We could try and walk across the frozen lake, maybe its thick enough to roll a tank over.”

“They’d see us moving from miles away, the tanks and troops would be sitting ducks on the ice. If they started shelling us, the ice could just collapse and plunge everygriff into the water.” Gerhardus shook his head.

“What about artillery?” Radowitz asked “They’re in range, we could support them with the larger guns.”

“They’d zone right in on us with counterfire, we’d lose all our heavy guns in a few hours. We wouldn’t know what to shoot at either, the shell’s would hit our own men just as often as the enemy.” Hardus dismissed with a wave of his paw.

“What about a sortie, we’ve got the tank and fuel reserve to launch a meaningful attack out of the city.” Joseph asked.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.” Hardus groaned “But the Airforce isn’t exactly present right now. Any vehicle out there would be easy pickings to the Yabos.”

The dreaded Yabos. While the various pony Airforce’s had fought enthusiastically, the Luftwaffe had numbers and better pilots overall. While many individual Equestrian squadrons were far superior to their changeling counterparts, the average changeling was better than the average pony. Slight differences in doctrine and plane design also put the Luftwaffe ahead.

That was the case for everything, except the dreaded Yabos. Equestrian and new Mareland fighter-bombers who specialized in low level attacks. Mainly flying the Hawker Typhoon, the Yabos had become the scourge of the Heer. Flying beneath radar they were deadly enough when the Heer could guarantee air cover; when the Equestians had air cover, the Yabos were an omnipresent threat and dreaded by the panzer corps.

“Well I know that.” Joseph huffed “but we could go at night, 5th Brigade 16th panzer are trained as night fighters. They’re holding position somewhere around Solace Plaza I think.”

Night fighting was hard enough to do with infantry, fighting with Panzers was almost never done on purpose. Never in his years of service across three continents had Gerhardus seen or heard of a nightfighting panzer unit. Except for the obvious Thestral companies which Equestria fielded, it was completely unheard of.

“Nightfighting panzers, when’d that become a thing?” Gerhardus asked the obvious.

“It’s only a very recent thing.” Joseph confessed “Three brigades hastily trained just before the second invasion.”

Laughing at the changelings honesty, Hardus nodded in understanding “Well its better than nothing. Now we just need a target and battleplan.”

Nodding in understanding, Gerhardus sat on his haunches and shielded himself behind the rubble. While there was almost no chance of a sniper hanging around in this area of the city, the griffon wasn’t one to take chances.

Outside, the city was quiet besides the sporadic gunfire. The city had a pre-war population in the hundreds of thousands, although: evacuations, conscription, and the movement of labour had stripped it down to around 50 000 if the army’s census was to be believed. It meant that the changelings actually outnumbered the ponies in city.

It certainly made his job of defending easier. With a much smaller pony presence inside the city, they didn’t have to divert as many soldiers to peacekeeping in the city. The ponies could also be corralled into a smaller section, letting Hardus ease up the ROE for the forces inside the city.

“You got any family?” Joseph suddenly asked as he sat down next to the griffon.

Gerharuds just laughed “You know I was an orphan right?”

“Well I know that.” Joseph scoffed “But you got a girlfriend or something? Maybe some really close friends?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend, but I’m flattered that you think I could. As for close friends, well I’m still in contact with everygriff I knew at the orphanage. Whatever anygriff tries to say, they’re my family, the disinherited.” Gerhardus mused.

“Disinherited?” Joseph asked, confused by the statement.

The Griffon glanced at him confused for a moment before catching on “Oh yeah sorry, that’s what we call ourselves. We didn’t have families, so we made our own little dysfunctional one out of the ones no one wanted.” He chuckled for a moment “What about you?”

“Well I’ve got a sister and her In-laws. My sister’s great and technically my boss in high command. The in-laws don’t really like me.” Joseph admitted.

“Oh yeah? Did you do something horrible offensive, or are they just like that?” Hardus asked.

“I’d say it’s a solid mixture of both. My brother-in-law is very normal, nothing weird about him. The rest of his family are quite… I don’t want to say stupid, so let’s say idiots. I chipped in a not insignificant amount of money for the wedding, later found out that the grooms family took my investment and blew it all on doing up their house. Called a few friends of mine at V.O.P.S to get it all sorted, apparently getting embezzlement put down on their citizen records really makes someone dislike you.” Joseph explained.

Gerhardus let out a loud laugh slapping a paw onto the changeling tankers back “I forgot you changelings have citizen records, I can only imagine what’s listed on mine.”

Before the conversation could go any further, the SNLF soldier from earlier returned accompanied by another changeling. The artillery officer carried a portable Stereoscopic rangefinder on their back, the exact thing Gerhardus needed.

Setting up the equipment on the rubble, the Griffon artillery mercenary made to use the equipment as a sort of telescope. Using it, he was determined to get a better look at the situation in neighbouring Hedgewards. He wasn’t really sure what getting a better look would achieve, but it was important to know all the details.

Scanning whatever he could, Gerhardus saw vehicles and changelings on the ground. Artillery guns and boxes of ammo and food. Lying on the banks of the frozen lake, the resources there must have been safe from Crystal Imperial attacks. Based on the visible equipment and vehicles, it was probably some sort of panzer unit holding the city.

Finally, he spotted a flag flying over the city. The flag was white with the Changeling trident in the corner, it was a unit flag. “I see a unit standard.” He announced to the changelings around him.

“Really?” Joseph asked, “Can you describe it, maybe I know the unit.”

Fiddling with the controls, he tried to sharpen the image and discern its features. Finally getting a good look he began to describe its featured “It’s a black shield with a notch cut out of the top right corner. Inside is a grey symbol, looks a number 2 with the top inverted.”

“Hold on, I think I know who you’re talking about.” Joseph said.

The changeling tanker looked around the ruins of the building a few times. Locking his buggy eyes on a burned-out plank of wood, the Oberst grabbed the scorched plank of wood. The end, covered in black ash made a good rudimentary pencil. Finding a clear wall, the changeling drew the exact symbol for all to see.

Glancing at it, Hardus nodded “Yeah that’s it. Which unit are they?” he asked.

“That’s the unit standard of the Panzer-Lehr Division.” Joseph excitedly murmured “Of course, they were advancing parallel to us.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Gerhardus snapped his claws to get the changelings attention “But who are the Lehr Division? Just assume that I don’t know the ins and outs of the Heer’s armed forces.”

“Right sorry.” Joseph chuckled “They’re arguably the best panzer formation in the Heer. They were advancing parallel to us, last I heard they were somewhere to our north in the corridor out.”

Well that certainly made things more interesting. If it really was an elite panzer unit in Hedgewards, they perhaps linking up with them wasn’t a terrible idea. Having elite and hard-fighting troops would make the defence a lot easier, although that depended entirely on their equipment. If most of it was already lost, then they’d be nothing more than a good infantry unit.

“What sort of equipment do they have?” Hardus inquired.

“They’ve got the usual Panzer IV’s and Panthers, the STUG’s and the like. They also operate a small troop of Spähpanzer Ru 25’s, it’s a brand-new type of light tank. Overall, its equipment is about a step above the tanks we’ve got in city; they also didn’t grind their way through battle, so they might even be at higher strength than us. They’re still organised in the early war fashion, 4 larger brigades instead of 6 smaller.” Joseph explained “They’re the cream of the Panzer Korps.”

Formed out of the best troops in the Heer, and the now disbanded Vestiopolios Foreign legion, its had seen combat in every one of Chrysalis war’s. From Canterlot fame, Stalliongrad revolution and clandestinely aiding the Hippogriffs against their mutual enemy of the Storm King. Their moto ‘Show them how it’s done!’

Joseph Radowitz had actually fought alongside the Lehr division several times during the war, including during the great retreat. The tankers and grenadiers of the Lehr division had actually lived up to their reputation, the 2nd brigade in particular had impressed him. A posting there was honestly the dream of any Heer officer.

“In that case, we’ll have to try some kind of operation to link up with them.” Gerhardus confessed “Although I’m not sure fully evacuating them is possible.”

“It’d be criminal not to at least try. Besides, the mere threat of it should spook the ponies.” Joseph argued.

“Guess we’ll just have to see.” The griffon muttered.

Miday Occupied Arcadia Bay

Chrysalis needed to pull out all the stops this time, this time it had to be perfect. There was no room for failure, this was going to be the biggest battle of the war. West of Chicoltgo, the largest armies ever seen on the continent were massing for battle, the combined forces of the Pony and Changeling alliances were gearing up for the final showdown.

Trimmel had explained the situation to her, and even she understood the gravity of the situation. Vaspier had finally pulled through and procured documents of the Crystal Imperial and Equestrian stockpiles, and it told Trimmel everything he needed to know. Despite their massive economic potential, the ponies were suffering chronic shortages of everything.

Like the Heer, they were burning through everything faster than they were making it. Bluebloods attack, the coup and the Crystal Imperial army’s attack was their last throw of the dice. Vaspiers agents were certain, the Ponies simply didn’t have the reserve to launch another big attack.

The same was true for her Changelings, the deployed tanks and aircraft was everything they could muster. If the Panzer Korps suffered one large defeat, they wouldn’t recover. Whoever won the upcoming confrontation, would have the freedom to attack of their own free will.

Her regime was secure in the Changeling lands, the support for her at home had never been higher, bot Olenia and the Northern Protectorates loyalty was wavering. Bjornling was a snake, and Changeling authority over the Northern Protectorate was always theoretical at best. Chrysalis had no doubt that he’d switch sides if the winds blew against her; frankly it was a miracle he hadn’t during the retreat.

Although she’d never admit it, Chrysalis desperately needed Bijorling on side. If the bears defected, then Soryth was wide open and Vestiopolis beyond it. If Soryth fell and the bears pushed into the hive’s territory, then she wouldn’t count of Ditrysium and Queen Helvia’s loyalty either. Chrysalis had no doubt that it would be the end of her reign.

Loosing here would also ensure the death or capture of the Griffon mercenary if he was even still alive. Without him, the Reich would certainly withdraw support for her regime; and without the Reich’s international support, the war was lost. Losing international support and the Heer’s fighting potential was a death-nail.

Trimmel was ready for the fight, he was frankly raring to go. Chrysalis meanwhile was nervous, every action she’d ever taken was risky; but she was always confident in victory. Now, Chrysalis wasn’t confident for the first time in her life. Partially, because she actually understood the stakes now; things really were different here on the frontline.

With the benefit of a days hindsight, this was probably a terrible idea. What was she thinking? It seemed like such a good idea a day ago, get some pictures and assure the Prince Grover that she was doing everything possible. But now this seemed like a truly awful idea, she should really have stayed in her tower.

Yes she was the most powerful Changeling Queen, with magical abilities only exceeded by the Alicorns, but bullets still kill. Unlike the previous battles and invasions she’d fought in, Chrysalis wasn’t some unknown spectre anymore, the whole continent knew her face and nopony would hesitate to give her another nose.

Standing atop the massive Grand Alicorn hotel, the Queen of all Changelings surveyed the city beneath her. Heer soldiers milling around, while the pony residents stiffly got on with life. Having been occupied for years, they were somewhat used to the changelings.

Massing all over the city and just beyond it, were the combined forces of the Heer. Bellow were thousands of Panzers and countless infantrylings. Truthfully, lings would likely never know how many beings were about to take part in the upcoming battle. Numbers often became hazy in situations like this.

She’d even made the call to deploy her personal guard to the frontline. The Queens guard were going to war, even her beloved King Tiger tanks. Even Trimmel hadn’t complained about her guard, actually seeming thankful for the extra forces. She’d even been told that he begrudgingly admitted that the Tigers he hated were almost perfectly suited to the coming battle.

This battle was going to be big, the forces filtering through Arcadia were heading straight for the frontline. Operation Crusader Trimmel had called it, aiming to hit the Crystal Imperial and Equestrian army’s somewhere around a ridgeline named Gazala. Once again she’d silently sent prays to the sky, thanking whatever was up there for giving her Trimmel.

While Chrysalis understood strategy and was unmatched at political manoeuvring and political scheming, Trimmel was something else. Without him, she wouldn’t have dared to invade Equestia and would have been content as ruler of her little corner of the world. Trimmel’s military prowess and her schemes were a match made in heaven.

Lighting up her horn, the Queen fired off a teleportation spell. After a moment, she found herself in an empty kitchen and quickly set about pillaging the pantry. She couldn’t be bothered to go through the song and dance of summoning the kitchen staff and ordering. It was more effort than the hungry changeling cared to go through.

She also didn’t want to bother her butler. Kurt Helborg, bless his little heart, would work himself to death if she asked. Not having larva of her own and as her closest living relative, he was technically the next in line for the throne of Vestiopolis. That was until she inevitably had her own larva, frankly it was odd that a Queen such as herself hadn’t produced a clutch of eggs yet.

Those uncomfortable thoughts of having a family were something for a later date. Right now, eating her way through the entire kitchen was the first priority. Then she needed to get Kurt to sleep. Finally, this war needed to be won. Then she could finally get around to creating a dynasty… and asking Trimmel an important question.

Throwing open the pantry door, Chrysalis went on the attack. Contrary to popular belief, Chrysalis wasn’t a fussy eater; the plate she left the pantry with showed that. Two sticks of pemmican, a few balls of mozzarella, an entire baguette, several slices of ham, and a pint of milk. Truly a meal fit for a Queen.

Depositing the plate and baguette down onto the kitchen counter, Chrysalis set about devouring the food in a slightly depressing silence. Not that she was complaining, quiet moments like this were something of a rarity in her life. The Queen took off her jacket and lazily draped it over a nearby chair along with her hat, getting mozzarella stains on them wasn’t something she wanted to explain again.

Her silent meal continued until a quiet voice broke the silence “I don’t see anyone, alright push me through the window.”

A moment later, a Pegasus fell through the far window. The Queen was about to reduce the pony to a black smear on the floor before she noticed their age, the pony barley seemed like a teenager. Looking around the room, the pony somehow didn’t notice her and shuffled around to the back door.

Confused by the whole situation, Chrysalis suddenly realised that the lights were off. With her changeling Queen biology and the night vision it came with, she simply hadn’t noticed that it was almost pitch black. Without her white jacket and hat one, she was probably almost invisible in the dark room.

The Pegasus meanwhile opened the backdoor and let in two more adolescent ponies, a Unicorn and Earth Pony. “Are you sure nopony’s around?” the Earth Pony asked.

“I’m sure.” The Pegasus confirmed quietly.

“Lets just grab it and get out of here before anypony turns up.” The unicorn nervously murmured, slinging a sack over her shoulder.

Quietly, the three ponies trotted right past Chrysalis and straight into the pantry. The young ponies quickly unslung the sack and began to quietly load cans and jars of food into the sack. Shocked by their priorities, Chrysalis examined their frames again. This time she noticed that the ponies were thinner than they should be.

With her long history of imitating ponies, Chrysalis had gotten to know their bodies quiet well; she could tell that these ones were malnourished. Their thin frames, slightly ruffled feathers and dull coats. The traditional signs of a poor diet. Chrysalis actually felt bad for them, these were her new subjects after-all.

Satisfied with their haul, the ponies began to make their way out. That was until they walked right into the counter. Not having night visions was certainly unfortunate in a dark room. After shuffling around in the dark for a minute, the trio of ponies argued in hushed tones before the unicorn of the trio cast a hornlight spell.

The magical light illuminated the room and cast its soft light on Chrysalis. The ponies froze just like Chrysalis. Until that exact moment, the Changeling hadn’t realised that she was mid bite on a slice of ham. The pink meat hanging loosely from her fangs. The four beings awkwardly staring at each other, Chrysalis honestly hadn’t thought this through.

“Errrm, hi.” She greeted, using her magic to place the ham back down on the plate.

Stunned momentarily and sweating after being discovered, the three nervous ponies struggled to put together an appropriate response. Despite their obvious fear of repercussions, they didn’t immediately panic much to their credit.

“H-h-hi there ma’am” The earth pony began.

“Now I know this looks bad…” the Pegasus took over, sweating profusely.

“But there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. It’s a really really good one which explains everything...” The earth pony continued.

“Yeah yeah.” The Pegasus explained hastily “You see, we have permission from…from…er.”

“The chef!” the otherwise silent unicorn blurted out, her eyes shining bright with fear.

“Yes!” the earth pony jumped on the answer “We’re here from the chef! Toooooo, pick up some ingredients.”

Collectively happy with their horribly strung out answer, the trio nervously smiled at her. Sweat clearly running down from their faces and trying to appear as normal as possible, the three ponies failed completely at looking innocent and inconspicuous.

Chrysalis meanwhile couldn’t help but smile at the three young ponies, the equines managing to look so adorable with their big eyes and nervous smiles. As the surrogate mother of her own nephew, she always had a good maternal instinct for young beings. It also struck her at that very moment, that these three ponies had failed to recognise her as the Queen.

Giving a smile, Chrysalis stretched her own magic out and flicked the lights on, giving the unicorn a rest from casting the hornlight spell. The Changeling Queen reassured them with a nod before speaking “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

“Oh well that’s very kind of you ma’am, but we really should be going.” The Pegasus stuttered “Can’t annoy the chef with our tardiness.”

“I’m quite sure they won’t mind, I insist.” Chrysalis smiled.

Nervously glancing at each other, the three ponies realised they couldn’t get of this, they relented. “Excellent.” Chrysalis cheered “Help yourselves to anything from the pantry, my treat.”

It was refreshing to talk with normal ponies for once, Chrysalis was able to forget that she was Queen for a while. While she loved ruling and wouldn’t give it up for anything, talking with normal Changelings once in a while helped keep things in perspective. Besides, the three ponies had piqued her interest.

Silver Veil, Saturn Soul and Golden Horizon; the ponies who’d stumbled upon her lunch were good company. Opening up after a while and making fine conversation. Learning about their woes and struggles of everyday life was also enlightening; their parents were probably alive, but deployed somewhere in the Equestrian army. The local V.O.P.S commander for example would be getting a visit from the Queen later, if even half the things the ponies accused him of were true…

Chrysalis meanwhile made constant deflections about herself, talking about her high workload and job pressure. She’d even brought up her fear at the upcoming battle, and even received some sympathy in response. Ponies feeling sympathy for a Changeling going into battle, this was a really strange conversation.

Beyond it all, Chrysalis could sense a ponies emotions and knew when they were lying; a magical skill held by all Changelings. The staggering thing was that they were being completely genuine, it wasn’t some elaborate act. The encounter just assured her beliefs, that her Changelings could live alongside the ponies; that in a century the empire she would build would still exist.

When Chrysalis finally left, the three ponies made their escape out the window having ‘deceived’ her. They didn’t realise that they’d just shared a meal with the Queen of all Changelings. The V.O.P.S inquiry into their parents whereabouts and subsequent release from POW camps being just a happy coincidence for them.

The corruption charges levied against V.O.P.S commander Quiet Night and his subsequent execution by the Queens Guard were also just happy coincidences for the occupants of Arcadia Bay. The sudden influx of food rations all across the occupied territories and expansion of aid schemes the following day also having absolutely nothing to do with the three adolescent ponies who’d raided the pantry.

3AM Chicoltgo Northern perimeter

Something was moving on the ice. Initially just a few reports that the Griffon had dismissed as lookouts getting jumpy, he was now certain that something big was happening on the lake ice. While initially joyous about the wind and snowfall which had set in overnight, it was now a double-edged sword obscuring whoever was out there.

Even the best spotters couldn’t tell if the shapes were friendly or foe. Since the discovery of the Lehr division just across the ice, the ROE in the northern sector had been significantly tightened up. Right now, no one could tell if the Equestrians were going to launch a sudden attack across the ice, or the Lehr division was attempting a dangerous crossing.

Watching through the swirling snow, Gerhardus saw a single shape approach ahead of the rest. It could be the beginning of an attack or a single Changeling coming to talk to them. Damn it, there was too much at stake to just open fire. In the STUG just next to him, sat Joseph Radowitz, also watching the encounter through his binoculars.

Making a risky decision, the pair decided not to open fire as the figure gradually became visible. Minutes ticked by in total silence, before Radowitz confidently stated “It’s a changeling.”

“Lovely.” Hardus breathed “You.” He pointed at a random PanzerGrenadier standing nearby “Go out there and bring the Changeling here.”

Throwing the rifle onto their back, the Changeling rifleman galloped out into the mist. After yet another agonising minute, the PanzerGrenadier returned with a Changeling wearing a slightly grey uniform. This new Changeling appeared slightly scruffy, but otherwise in good health. Marked on their uniform was the same Lehr symbol Hardus had seen in Hedgewards.

“Lovely welcoming committee you’ve got here.” The Changeling commented, unimpressed by the PanzerGrenadier’s gun pressed to their back.

“No jokes” Hardus scolded “What’s happening out there, tell us quickly before the men get jumpy and start shooting.”

“We’ve abandoned the tanks and heavy equipment in Hedgewards.” The Lehr officer quickly explained “We decided to make a night crossing over here, some 15 000 of us. Try not to shoot at us.”

“Alright I’ll give the order.” Gerhardus nodded.

“Thanks, sorry about the shortness; but the lads really don’t like how exposed they are out there.” The Lehr officer explained.

Radowitz meanwhile watched the other Changeling very carefully his eyes narrow. This officer seemed just a bit too well fed, both with food and love. Despite his words, the officer also didn’t seem particularly worried about the exposed position of his men. Then again, he was here now, not out there.

The tank commander had also met many members of the vaunted tank division who were overly casual about many things, this wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. He himself was more than guilty of acting far to casually on the battlefield. After all, those who survived long enough on the battlefield often thought themselves invincible.

“You with 5th brigade?” Radowitz asked the Changeling.

A pair of bird eyes swivelled up and watched Joseph carefully. Their eyes met, and understanding passed between the two of them. The Griffon turned to the Changeling expectantly, waiting for an answer. The PanzerGrenadier meanwhile also glanced up at his commanding Oberst, before levelling his gaze on the Lehr officer.

Caught off guard by the question, the Changeling stumbled for a moment before giving out an answer “Yeah I am.”

“Excuse me.” Gerhardus simply said before padding away. The PanzerGrenadier meanwhile stiffened and took a few steps back.

Ignoring the Griffon’s sudden departure, Radowitz continued on “Yeah I thought I recognised the uniform, 5th who doesn’t recognise the Lehr divisions 5th brigade.” The Changeling nodded as he smiled as Joseph continued. “Yeah you guys in the 5th Brigade saved me at the Battle of Arcadia Forest.”

The other Changeling laughed a few times, “Well you’re welcome for that, never going to leave another ling behind am I right?” he said before laughing.

Radowitz laughed along with the Lehr officer “Hey you know what’s funny?”

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“The Lehr division wasn’t at Arcadia forest.” Radowitz stated with a laugh.

With that one line, the other Changeling froze. Sets of eyes from all over the area suddenly found themselves staring at the alleged Panzer officer. The total lack of any defending response only damned the Changeling even more. Espionage in the Heer wasn’t well received by the soldiers, known spies and rats almost always found themselves dead.

It wasn’t unheard of for Thoraxian free soldiers to try and infiltrate the Heer’s ranks, it also wasn’t unheard of for the traitors to be found in shallow graves. While V.O.P.S officially wanted prisoners, that fact was completely missed by the Heer’s regulars. If this Changeling was in the Thorian Free Army, then that wasn’t the Lehr division down on the ice.

“They also don’t have a 5th brigade.” Radowitz continued.

Staring down at the impersonator in the low light, Radowitz could clearly see the fear in the Changeling’s eyes. The disguise and plan probably would have worked on most Changelings. Even at a cursory glance, it would probably have worked. Unfortunately, Radowitz was technically the Lehr’s commanding officer and had intimate knowledge of the divisions organisation.

In a flash, the Changeling lit up his magic and fired a bolt straight into the air, the green magical energy flying up like a flair. Simultaneously, the crack of a rifle filled the air; the PanzerGrenadier having placed a bullet firmly in the infiltrators skull. Illuminated by the light, Radowitz could see the shapes of vehicles on the frozen lake begin to scatter.

“Open fire!” he shouted in the silent night.

The flash of muzzles and the crack of guns filled the air, tracers of light soared towards the scattering Thoraxians on the ice. Behind them, the roar of artillery and thump of mortars began in a deadly volley. Shells screamed over them, and crashed into the ice. Vehicles were sent up in a fireball as gashes echoed out through the ice like spiderwebs from the point of impact.

Joining in the chaos, came muzzle flashes from the distant Hedgewards. The actual Panzer Lehr division firing on the impersonators. Shells from the distant city began to strike the ice, throwing an unknown number into the water. The Equestrian artillery concealed on nearby hills began to launch counterfire at the Changeling artillery, but Garhardus’s well sighted batteries knocked out the less numerous guns one by one.

The ’battle’ was over withing minutes, with perhaps a battalion’s worth of Thoraxian Free soldiers having been killed or scattered. The Heer’s losses meanwhile were comparatively light, with the only a few dozen dead or injured. Materially, the greatest loss was that of ammunition.

With the Equestrians having held off on direct assaults, hoping for the infiltrators to take the city, the Changelings had successfully survived another night. Watching the pony forces retreating and scattering into the mist, Gerhardus smiled at another successful defence. The ponies had failed again.

But inside he knew that this would be the last easy victory. The ponies had thus far attempted infiltration and precise attacks to break through the Heer’s lines. With that obviously not working, they’d finally pivot to a brutal siege. Tomorrow, the artillery attacks would begin at first light, and the Ponies would begin the arduous task of storming the rubble.

Author's Note

Unrelated to this, I recently played an EAW game with some people where a siege shockingly similar to this took place in Chicoltgo. Although it was the pony alliance throwing literally everything they had into defending and then lifting the siege on Chicoltgo. Was just a bit creepy how something eerily similar to what I was writing played out in a MP game lol.

Anyways, I legitimately thought I'd posted this a while ago and its been sitting ready for a while.

There's probably something intelligent I could say here, but I'm too tired lol.

Chrysalis was fun, I’ve shown her as the murder bug we all know and love; now as a relatively decent changeling. Looks after kids in particular well (foreshadowing)

In other news, I've been beta reading for this chap for a while now. He's just posted another chapter, so if you haven't already read his far superior work to mine, go and give it a read. It's a lot better than my slop, so I'd 100% recommend it.

TAnd so I left

After decades of silent suffering, an unexpected event causes Luna to reach her breaking point much sooner. Instead of embracing her inner darkness, she makes a very different decision that will change her life in unimaginable ways.

CrimsonS4ge · 106k words · 1,435 25 · 13k views

Feel free to ask any questions you want, and I'll get back to you. Criticism is also welcome, so are ideas.

The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 3)

7th day of the siege of Chicoltgo

Standing in the commander seat of a STUG assault gun, Oberst Radowitz watched the streets ahead. The sun shone brightly above them, but the concrete jungle of Chicoltgo remained silent. The past few days of the siege had blended together, the days of constant fighting all merging into one collective blur of grey.

The fighting had also become significantly more violent, the Equestrian and Crystal forces finally forgoing infiltration and night attacks for more traditional attacks. The constant artillery attacks and infantry attacks storming the growing pile of rubble the city was turning into. Casualties had mounted rapidly, and the changelings had started to give ground.

Most recently, the Equestrians had begun adopting a deadly effective strategy; Thunder Runs. It was a relatively novel strategy, and one Gerhardus himself had taught them. Columns of Cromwell tanks striking deep into the city and ravaging their backlines and reserves and withdrawing. Their operations were quickly draining the defenders resources.

Their infantry attacks had made considerable ground as well, the ponies calling artillery and airstrikes on anything that moved. If it wasn’t for the exceptional abilities of their local griffon mercenary, then Joseph had no doubt their artillery would be gone already. But thanks to his superb counter-battery fire, the lines were still relatively stable; and the Heer’s managed retreat was going well.

At this particular moment, Radowitz was covering some nameless road as the units somewhere further-back in the city reorganised themselves. After withdrawing from several outlying positions earlier in the day, Radowitz had finally committed his armoured units to battle; the panzers were now fully engaged.

Watching from his periscope, Joseph continued to stare at the burning Cromwell tank down the road. The vehicle had been leading an infantry attack against a presumed weak position, the last thing they’d expected was an AP shell from a STUG IV.

Tearing his eyes away from the periscope, Radowitz brought himself out of the turret hatch and into the fresh air. Taking a breath, Radowitz surveyed the area. While this particular section of the battlefield was silent, distant crashes and the drone of bullets tearing concrete told him that the battle was raging elsewhere.

“Sir” a quiet voice said. It was at normal speaking volume, anything else would have been inappropriate in the din of battle.

Looking down, Radowitz saw a PanzerGrenadier officer standing besides the tracks of his tank. The 4/19 patch on their uniform told the panzer leader that this was probably the head of their relief force. “About time you got here.” Joseph sighed “Pack up riflemen, we’re off duty.”

Slowly the PanzerGrenadiers filtered into the position as the riflemen filtered out. Positions were taken up in well positioned piles of rubble, comfortable craters were made temporary homes and ruined buildings saw new residents take up station by windows and holes in walls. “What happened there?” the officer asked Radowitz, pointing at the burned-out Equestrian tank.

“Oh that, they tried to get through.” He lazily replied “Driver, start to back us up.”

The engine rumbled to life as the steel elephant started to back up. Flecks of concrete on the ground around it shook, while the road cracked under the wight of the machine. When the vehicle was free of the traffic of moving changelings, it turned on the spot and proceeded down the road.

Alongside it, the exhausted riflemen trotted in a silence. Bags under their eyes and dirty uniforms told the story of continuous combat. With attrition wearing down on the defenders, rotating units in and out of battle had become more difficult. Countless hours of combat had worn these Changelings down into exhausted husks mindlessly performing their duty.

Finally they’d get some sleep and not have to worry about a possibly imminent death for a few hours. One of the few safe places the Heer had in the city was Time park, the place they could rest for a few hours. It was a good mustering point, one of the few safe spaces which could be found for the changelings. The civilian presence in the area meant the Equestrians wouldn’t dare attack it.

It was a similar situation with the Night Park elsewhere in the city, 2 square miles of nature contained within the city. It was an overall peaceful place, ponds and grassy hills made it a lovely place for the Changeling’s to rest. That was until it had turned into a warzone.

The ponies had broken into the park the previous night, and it had since turned into a hellscape. Currently it was the site of the heaviest fighting in the city, with an entire panzer brigade being committed to the area. Gerhardus was somewhere over these, the Joseph and the Griffon having lost contact in the past couple of days.

Another sight of hard fighting was the Chicoltgo steel foundry. An enormous complex of interweaving: pipes, storage containers, countless buildings and an underground labyrinth of tunnels. It was the impassible anchor which had held up the Crystal advance from the north for days now, the defenders throwing back every attack.

These two positions were vital to the defence, and the two commanders had divided the defence responsibilities between them. Gerhardus was responsible for the defence of Night Park, and Joseph Radowitz for the Steel foundry. Various other officers and subordinates were tasked with different sectors as well; dispersing the chain of command to prevent it from being wiped out.

The screeching of an aircraft engine brought Joseph back to reality. The prop-engine roared in the sky, and was quickly getting louder. All around them, the riflemen had already galloped to cover, hiding in buildings or behind piled of rubble. A few threw up bubble shields as they hid, increasing their chances of survival.

That distinct whirling was the dread of the Heer and the bane of the Panzer Korps, it was the dreaded Yabos. The Equestrian Hawker Typhoon was a plane noling expected to be a problem at the war’s outset. It’s development was plagued with problems, and funding issues almost saw it scrapped.

But a series of staggering upgrades and radical changes to its mission capabilities turned it from an unremarkable fighter to a brilliant: night-fighter, intruder and ground attack aircraft. With its pilots specialising in low level attacks, they were a threat even when the Luftwaffe could field fighters to cover the Heer.

They were a truly omnipresent threat to everything on the ground. Loadouts of rockets and bombs would tear through infantry and fortifications like they were paper, and the loadouts with an AT gun would punch holes clean through a tank. Even worse were the Hawker Tempests, but those were a rare sight.

Joseph himself had been a victim of their attacks before, having had his vehicle knocked out twice by rockets. While unharmed and otherwise alright, the shockwaves had a nasty habit of knocking the treads off vehicles. He got lucky twice now, having dodged the AT variants, it wasn’t a chance that the Changeling wanted to take again.

Joseph had to make a split-second decision, to abandon his STUG, or try to save it. “Driver, ram that building and turn off the engine!” he shouted into the intercom.

It was a vain hope that an unmoving tank lodged in a building might be seen as an already destroyed target. Unfortunately, there were no other options when caught out in the open, not unless you started praying. Just play dead and hope that the pilots don’t come by for another pass.

The lumbering STUG heaved itself over with sudden urgency and rammed straight into the building next to it. The barrel punched straight through the crumbled brick wall as the entire structure shook. For a few horrible seconds, Radowitz through it might collapse down on the vehicle.

As the wall rumbled, Radowitz curled himself up in the turret. He’d entirely retreated out from the open but left the hatch open. Burned out and abandoned tanks rarely had closed hatches, crewlings would always try to escape, or the exit points be blown open by interior explosions. While it would spell his certain death in the event of an attack, it would hopefully sell the dead vehicle look.

With the STUG now as hidden as it could possibly be, and as camouflaged as a vehicle in snow camouflage could be in the city. Any moment he expected to see bombs falling down on them, but no such packaged came. Instead the Typhoons passed over one at a time, dozens of them flying low and between the buildings. Just as quickly as they’d come, the planes were gone.

Heaving a sigh of relief, the Changeling was relieved that the raid wasn’t meant for him. That was the good news anyway. The bad news was that they were flying a route to Night Park, Gerhardus was about to get some unwanted company. Unfortunately, there was nothing that he could do but hope his Griffon friend was able to survive it.

Night Park

Pressing himself against the metal machine, Gerhardus made himself as flush with the object as possible. Meanwhile his eyes were glued on the prey he’d sighted just down the park. Said machine was an 8.8cm Pak 43 Anti-tank gun, and said prey was a tank. Tanks were advancing on their position, at least 13 vehicles moving in 3 parallel lines.

This was the speciality of the griffon, he may be good with a rifle, but artillery is what he lived and breathed. Sighting powerful guns, waiting for the perfect shot and knocking out a behemoth. Raining death from above with precise shells and counting down on a range table. Finally putting those accounting lessons to good use, who’d have thought they’d work on range tables.

The griffon nodded as he licked the outside of his beak again, watching as the tank creeped closer and closer. The muddy quagmire that Night Park had turned into was filled with hills and small buildings, treelines and walls; hell to fight in. Not that it was a problem for him, he could have taken the tank out several minutes ago, it was the infantry he needed to worry about.

All around him, Changelings quietly got into positions; pressing themselves against the rubble, sighting guns and acting dead. The Equestrians had shelled the VolksGrenadiers for an hour before now, they assumed it was dead ground. The experienced grenadiers were about to show them that this ground was very much alive.

Right now, the advancing Equestrians were moving into a kill box, the tanks right in the sights of 6 AT guns. The infantry was the real danger, there was no contingency from them. Mortars were set up and the grenadiers were ready, but there was no elaborate plan or tactic to take them out.

The AT guns were close enough for radio coordination, the grenadiers meanwhile were completely dispersed around the area. It borderline impossible to coordinate all the scattered pockets of changelings, just about the only thing set in stone was that they’d wait for the heavy guns to fire before engaging.

Taking on the infantry wasn’t going to be easy; the ponies out there were a veteran Earth pony unit. The VolksGrenadiers and riflemen scattered around the area were good and had the advantage of being on the defence, but the ponies down there actually outnumbered Gerhardus forces by a not so insignificant amount.

Earth ponies, specifically a regiment of Chicoltgo Sappers. They’d been attacking all day and had made good ground throughout the city. These specific ponies were a real danger, fighting for their home city, in an environment they knew like the back of their hooves. Fighting for their homes, some for their families trapped inside the city.

This was going to be one hell of a fight. A fully equipped and fresh regiment of Earth pony Sappers supported by at least a platoon of tanks. The attached armour was significant and could quite easily overrun them, that was unless his AT guns knocked them out. When fighting tanks, Gerhardus always wanted at least twice their number in AT, not less than half it.

Calling in his armoured support would be good, but they’d been detached a couple of hours ago for rearmament and refuelling. The Griffon couldn’t count on friendly tank support, only what little remained on the frontline after days of combat. They were being worn down, if the troops already here weren’t reinforced tomorrow, they’d have to retreat.

Casting that out of his mind, Gerhardus glanced behind himself at the gun crew. They waited anxiously, shells at the ready and equipment primed and loaded for battle. Sliding off the gun, Gerhardus positioned himself behind the weapon and glanced down the sights one more time. Then he gave the order.

The first shot From Gerhardus own gun found its mark. The leading tank, a Crusader, was struck in the side by an anti-tank shell. Exploding on contact with the vehicle, the shell failed to penetrate the armour; luckily that wasn’t a problem. The 6 guns were coordinating to stagger their fire, so a shell was going out every 5 seconds. Seconds after his gun failed to penetrate, the second AT gun succeeded in penetrating its armour.

The guns were also coordinating on knocking out the vehicles, following the fire of the gun before them to maximise damage. Following doctrine and standard practices, the next gun captain targeted the leading vehicle in the next line.

It was a simple idea really, take out the first and last tanks in line, and the rest are stuck. One distinct problem for this battle, was that the last tanks in the parallel lines weren’t visible from their position on the ground. All they could do was wait for the Equestrian tanks to put themselves in the firing line.

The VolksGrenadiers meanwhile opened the battle enthusiastically. Mortars soared and bullets roared. In return, the blue and pink lances of fire from magical rifles burned through the air straight back at them. Snipers situated high above the battlefield let their bolt actions crack, targeting tank commanders and anypony they could identify as an officer.

The Equestrian tanks meanwhile weren’t just sitting there and getting shot at, they circumvented the burning wrecks and continued to advance. Meanwhile the turrets rotated to find the concealed anti-tank turrets as their secondary machineguns supported the infantry attacks.

At a range New Marelanders called ‘insult range’, the two sides traded fire. The ponies were taking heavier losses, knocking out an AT gun as 2 tanks were reduced to hulks; their loses were unfortunately sustainable. Yes they were trading at a 2-1 ratio, but they could take it.

Just as another shell was let loose, the sound of prop-engines reached Gerhardus ears. Coming in hard and fast, he didn’t need to see them to know what they were and why they were here. Something in his bones also screamed, that these ones were going to hit him. “Get clear!” he shouted.

The Changelings of the gun crew practically stumbled over as they tried to get away. Buzzing wings and clopping hooves filled the air as they scrambled away and to safety. Joining them in scrambling away, Gerhardus found himself tripping over the stands anchoring the turret on the ground.

Collapsing on the ground, he glanced back. Through an opening in the wall, he spotted a single rocket heading straight towards him. Having no time to react or make any attempts at escape, Gerhardus offered a silent prayer to Boreas before unfurling both wings and shielding his face with them.

Inside and outside, the battlefield turned to chaos. Rockets and cannon fire from the Typhoons thundered into the ground on the changeling positions. Smoke and fire filled the air, choking the combatants. Those who survived the initial attack found themselves fighting blind in the choking smoke.

The ponies meanwhile found something easier to shoot at. As a lot of the Changelings put up bubble-shields to protect themselves, the shimmering green orbs of light attracted fire from the ponies like flies to a flame. The Typhoons came about again, unloading their guns into the smoke while those with AT guns knocked out the last changeling AT position.

Fighting in the smoky battlefield became chaotic and terrifying, VolksGrenadiers found themselves locked in hoof-to-hoof combat with a numerically and physically stronger enemy. The exhausted changelings were cut down as any semblance of order in the ranks broke down. Survivors fought as individual fireteams, fighting only to get out of the killing-ground.

The remaining Equestrian tanks tore through the smoke, firing at everything which moved in front of them. The VolksGrenadiers fought back heroically, disabling several more tanks with their Panzerfaust’s. Teams still in the buildings around the park sprayed into the smoke, covering the VolksGrenadiers getting pounded in the park. Despite everything, they were completely overwhelmed and on breaking point.

Mortar teams beyond the Heer’s crumbling line poured every shell they had into the battleground. Forward artillery spotters called in danger close artillery as shells crashed into the Equestrians spilling into the park; everything moving was shelled in a vain attempt to stem the advancing Equestrian tide.

Those unlucky enough to be caught by the advancing sappers had to fight their way out, hoof-to-hoof. Knives and bayonets clashed, shovels were used as bludgeoning tools while some Changelings resorted to skewering ponies with their spellcasting horns.

Opening his eagle eyes, Gerhardus was absolutely shocked to find himself very much alive. Surviving the blast without a scratch could likely be attributed to the Changeling standing besides him. The artillery loader’s horn was lit up, a bubble shield covering the ground around them. The bug had come back for him.

Shaking off his stupor, Hardus heaved himself onto all fours. As the Changeling lowered the shield, he patted the Changeling on the shoulder “Thanks” the building shook and voices shouted in Equish from somewhere nearby.

“We should get out of here.” Gerhardus began as he clicked a flare-gun off his belt “Head to the fallback line.”

Following the Changeling as she scurried away, the building he’d once occupied suddenly stopped. This entire section had been blown off in some previous battle, the former lounge now part of the park. Ducking to avoid the torrent of bullets which filled the air both ways, Gerhardus raised the paw which held his flare-gun. Firing it straight up through the smoke, the signal was visible to everybeing on both sides.

For the shattered VolksGrenadiers, this was the signal to retreat. Most immediately scatted to the fallback line, seeking safety there. Other local officers managed to maintain order and withdraw their few troops without chaos. A brave few stayed to fight a rearguard action, attempting to stagger their retreat.

Practically manhandling a Changeling with a radio to a halt, the Griffon pulled them into cover and tuned its frequencies as quickly as possible. Grabbing the receiver off their back, Gerhardus clicked it on and barked order at the artillery crews he prayed to Boreas were listening “All gun crews, commence immediate saturation barrage west of position 12. Turn that park to ash!”

Without bothering to wait for a response, Gerhardus pushed the Changeling away as he joined the rearguard. If that artillery came, it might stem the tide long enough for the fallback line to be reinforced, if it didn’t…

Author's Note

Just a short one this time around. Theres going to be one more chapter in Chicoltgo before moving away to the Crystal empire and the fall of the city. Next chapter is also going to feature the continuing antics of Trimmel and Chrysalis, my two favourite characters to write.

I've decided to cut operation Alicorn Sunset a bit short, so they'll only be a few more chapters before I move onto the next story arc.

ALSO new DLC dropped and I'm very happy with the DLC and its upgrades. However I'm slightly miffed that is added a load of not well known technologies I was going to deploy later in the story (sometime after the griffonia arc). I was delving DEEP into historical documents to get the specs of them right and Paradox was like 'lol we'll just add them to the game'. Sure I love that its there now, but that doesn't stop me from being miffed about wasting a few hours.

If anyones got any suggestions, complaints or questions feel free to comment them and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. I've also been beta reading for

TAnd so I left

CrimsonS4ge · 106k words · 1,435 25 · 13k views

, this story is way better than any of my stuff, so go and check it out if you haven't already.

The Siege of Chicoltgo (Part 4)

Siege of Chicoltgo morning of the 14th day

After 13 days of brutal and gruelling siege warfare, the Heer was nearly tapped out. Running low on: ammunition, food and fuel. Almost half of the Changelings in the city were either dead or wounded, those still able to fight were exhausted after days of fighting. Love ratioing had gotten extreme, some otherwise healthy Changelings were thrown into the makeshift hospitals for lack of love alone.

A few of the most starved Changelings in the city had even started draining the cities few remaining civilians or POW’s for love. Although it strictly went against standing orders, almost nothing could be done to punish the perpetrators. Doing anything against the Changelings responsible would have guaranteed a mutiny among the assembled troops.

Although they were out of ammo and fuel, their tank stockpiles were surprisingly intact, the armoured vehicles holding up incredibly well in the fighting. But without enough fuel to run then, the heavily armed behemoths had been converted into good fixed-fortifications. The tactics had certainly helped prolong the battle.

At most, they could sustain battle until tomorrow. Then, the Heer would throw in the towel. It would be a horrible defeat, the single worst defeat in the history of the Changeling Lands. Gerhardus had done everything in his power, pulling out all the tricks against an enemy he’d taught. They played crafty with underhand tactics and brutal frontal attacks.

The ponies were good, he’d give them that. He’d obviously withheld information and tactics when instructing the Equestrian army, but they’d figured out those lessons all on their own. Against a different enemy, Gerhardus would have been able to stall this siege for weeks; but not here. Whatever came next, at least he’d kept his 13-day promise.

As the morning sun rose in the sky, Gerhardus Omsclaw padded down what was once a very beautiful main drive. He could imagine that it was once filled with vibrant life, flower shops, foals playing and a spirit of community. He snorted in derision, like that idealistic image could ever be true. Those were the same myths griffs told about Skyfall.

Now it was filled with some very large potholes, those made by howitzers. Disembodied limbs covered the ground, pieces lings hadn’t bothered to clear away when they collected the dead and wounded. Blood mixed with ash lay in dried puddles, occasionally joined by spent bullet casings or an abandoned weapon.

Constructed at the far end of the ruined main drive, a barricade blocked off the road. Made of a single tank and a random collection of other materials, the 6ft tall barricade blocked off the road from advancing Equestrian vehicles. Barricades like these were one of the cornerstones of the defence. Tanks heavy guns substituted for AT guns and supporting infantry could hold back any breaching parties.

The Griffons main interest out here was one of the Changelings manning it, Joseph Von Radowitz. He hadn’t seen the changeling for days, yet the tanker had still being doing an admirable job. In the harsh fighting, Joseph had more than proved his mettle. Gerhardus would certainly be passing his praise onto Trimmel when they next met.

Joseph Radowitz meanwhile was tiredest changeling alive, that wasn’t even a word. Over these past 13 days of combat, it felt like he’d gotten only a few hours sleep; that was probably because it was true. Some nights he hadn’t even slept, fighting the whole night.

While he’d officially been eating the same rations as everyone else, Radowitz had secretly been taking half rations. Less food for him meant more for one of the other soldiers in the city, it wasn’t much, but ever little would help here. Even a tiny scrap could make a massive difference, every little piece.

Rubbing his eyes with a dirty hoof, Joseph lit up his magic and picked up a rifle. With practiced efficiency, he cocked the gun and rested it gently next to him. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but Joseph had to confess that he’d gotten the feeling. Previously that seventh sense had only existed while in a tank, now he felt it watching the shadows in the morning light.

As the griffon padded up besides him, Joseph glanced at the feathery form of Gerhardus. The griffon was a sight for sore eyes, he just made the changeling feel more secure. Just like everyling in the city, Gerhardus appeared more dishevelled now. His feathers and fur were unkempt and bags were visible under his eyes.

Despite appearances, Gerhardus still carried himself properly, head low and body ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. Reaching Joseph’s position, he lay on his stomach against the barricade. Unslinging his FG-42 rifle, Hardus checked it over and rested it on the barricade before finally turning to look at Joseph.

“How’ve you been?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Joseph shrugged “Well the locals keep trying to kill me, I haven’t slept for days; we’re running short on ammo and the men are on the verge of starvation. Other than that, the suns shining and it’s a been lovely”

Surprised by the sarcasm, Gerhardus let out a smile and let out a few breathy laughs “That’s the kind of professional understatement Equestrians have. You pick that up while undercover?”

“Good ear.” Joseph complimented “I was undercover for a while in what used to be the EPU. I saw its transition into the army before being recalled. Picked up a few mannerisms, comical understatement being one of them.”

“I was in Equestria around the same time.” Gerhardus pondered “Don’t suppose we ever met?”

“Unless I suffered some horrible head trauma and completely forgot about you, then no.” Joseph sighed “Shame really.”

“Yeah…” Hardus lazily responded.

Placing both paws on his back, the griffon tried to bend his body backwards. Several bones and muscles popped as he stretched out awkwardly. Unfurling his wings, the griffon tried to stretch them out. Reaching a paw around, he tried to scratch at the base of his wings before letting out a sigh. An uncertain look in his eyes, he looked at Joseph.

“I need a favour.” Hardus said, not meeting Josephs eyes.

“Sure, anything.” The changeling replied, not really understanding what he was about to ask.

“Listen, this is very awkward for me and I wouldn’t ask you if there was literally any griffon around; don’t ever talk about this.” Gerhardus explained quietly.

Nodding in acceptance, Gerhardus continued “I’ve got a wing cramp, right at the base of my wings. Just massage it for a minute until it goes away. Be carful because it’s a very…” he hesitated “well its very sensitive spot…” as he trailed off, a look of realisation grew on Josephs face.

“Yeah I’ll do it. Don’t worry, I used a Pegasi’s disguise in Equestria so I know about… that spot.” Joseph coughed before lifting his hat off with magic and placed it down next to him. “So are you going to take your shirt off or…?”

“I’m not taking my fucking shirt off!” the griffon exclaimed as he turned around and presented his back to the Changeling “This is awkward enough, just get it over with.”

Joseph watched as Gerhardus slowly unfurled his wings. If he was being honest, the changeling was kind of obsessed with avian wings. Spending time living as a Pegasi had made him very jealous about their wings, flying just wasn’t the same with insect wings.

From what Gerhardus knew about griffons, their wings were distinct from Pegasi wings. While the ponies could fly faster than griffons, the avians wings had far more endurance. Griffons were also stronger in general, able to fly longer with heavier loads. They also didn’t use magic to fly, so weren’t affected by rare magic dampening spells.

“Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to get on with it?” Hardus grumbled.

“Yeah sorry.” Joseph mumbled quietly.

Placing both his hooves on Gerhardus back, Joseph gradually started to rotate his flat hooves in small circles. The skin of the griffon folding beneath it and sliding back into place, Joseph could feel the tense muscles flexing back and forth underneath the skin. The hard fabric of Gerhardus shirt also moulded under the movement.

Gradually making his way up, the Griffons back, Joseph kneaded his back. Finally reaching the base of his wings, the Changeling gently massaged the area. Gerhardus meanwhile cocked his head slightly and muttered something in his native Skyfall tongue. Whatever Joseph was doing obviously hit the exact right spot. Rather hilariously, the avian even cooed a few times like a pigeon.

“Alright that’s good.” Hardus coughed.

Joseph quickly withdrew both of his hooves. The griffon meanwhile gave his wings an experimental flap. Satisfied with the result of the massage, Hardus shook off his wings before folding them up and resting them on his back. “Thanks Joseph. I’m getting too old for this.” He grumbled.

“Getting old? You only look about 25.” Joseph sputtered.

Hardus let out a squawking laugh “Thanks, I really needed to hear that; wish I was still 25.”

“Well how old are you? You can’t be beyond your mid 30’s can you.”

“If only.” The griffon snorted “I’m 42”

Joseph laughed “You’re practically ancient, you ever meet Grover I?”

“Shut your beak or I’ll send you to your room young man.” Hardus replied chuckled.

Mid-way through sharing a laugh, Hardus suddenly shot up. Reaching for his rifle, the griffon took aim down the street. Following his lead, Joseph lit up his magic and similarly grabbed his own rifle. Turning his head around, the Changeling looked at the soldier resting just beyond the barricade “get up here!” he whispered.

The barricade suddenly became a flurry of activity. As quietly as possible, the riflemen galloped around grabbing their guns from the rifle pyramids. Being a Vrakian unit, most of these Changelings also carried blades of some kind; they fixed scabbards and grabbed sharpened shovels.

Over these past few days, Gerhardus had really come to appreciate the Vrakians. While he always knew about their reputation in battle, their random obsession with bringing antiquated swords into battle was certainly helpful. There was a reason they made up almost a third of the army, a disproportionately high amount compared to their relative size.

Taking up positions on the barricade, the Changelings readied their weapons for the fight. Dozens of pairs of eyes stared down the street, trying to find whatever they were supposed to be shooting at. With his better avian eyes, Gerhardus tracked movement in a building on a street corner; a machinegun nest.

Something wasn’t right however, it was pointing down the intersection away from them. On the corner of the crossroads, the machinegun was pointing right down the road out of the city. Almost like they were trying to keep something out…

The machinegun crackled to life, spraying fire down the road, not at them. The tracers disappeared behind the buildings, the bullets aiming for some unseen target. Raising their own rifles, Gerhardus and the Changelings began to fire at the machinegun nest. The well shielded position absorbed the bullets well, the concrete and sandbags taking the fire well.

After a few moments of trading fire, a PanzerFaust flew from down the road. Coming from the direction of the tracers, it flew through one of the windows and detonated inside the building. Smoke and flame billowed out of the windows as the entire corner of the building exploded. Fragments of brick and concrete showered the area as the machinegun nest was neutralised.

“Hold your fire” Joseph ordered the riflemen.

Despite the order to hold their fire, the riflemen continued to aim their weapons down the road. Constant fighting with the Equestrians over the past weeks had steeled their nerves, they were ready to open fire on anything that moved. Even other Changelings made fine targets, the Thoraxian Free Army had worn Heer uniforms and tried to sneak through the lines enough times for even Changelings to be valid targets.

Watching road carefully, the avian eyes of Gerhardus scanned the road. His eagle hearing tracked the drumming of hooves on cobble. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sound and pictured it in his mind. Equines of some kind, advancing in 2 columns; moving at a regular trot on either side of the road. At least 100 of them, beyond that, it was impossible to determine anything else.

When a group of Equines galloped across the open street, a machinegun on the defenders side tracked them and fired. The bullets stuck the group and filled the air around the Equines but failed to hit them. “Hold your fire!” Joseph shouted again.

The Equines taking fire dived into cover and silence fell again on the road. The vague outline of a head scanned the barricade before a voice shouted in Hertzlandic “Changelings?”

Glancing at each other, Hardus and Joseph shrugged before the tanker shouted back “Who?”

After a quiet moment, the same voice returned again “Its Jachs you fucking arseholes!”

Surprised by the sudden outburst, Hardus began laughing. The mood among the Vrakians had suddenly improved, a few light chuckles and a general sense of hope welled among them. Except for a single machine gunner who swore quietly, much to the amusement of the other defenders.

“Sounds like Jachs.” Joseph murmured to his griffon friend “Dude we almost killed you! Come to us.” He shouted across the road.

“Fuck you come to me!” the voice shouted back.

Dropping the rifle from his magic, Joseph Von Radowitz let out a pained sigh “Definitely Jachs.”

Brazenly standing up into the open air, the Changeling pointed a hoof at two of the Vrakian riflemen “You two with me, you as well Hardus.”

Without missing a beat, the tank leader began trotting down the barricade and down the road. Slinging his rifle around behind his winds, Gerhardus also quickly followed. His talons clicking on the cobbled road. The two lucky riflemen also quickly made their way down, flanking the griffon mercenary. The two quietly checking their bayonets were secure.

On the other end, a Changeling officer in a long grey coat and sporting an officers cap trotted towards them. He was likewise flanked by three Jaegar riflemen. The elite troops were part of the 96th independent mixed division, reorganised into the 96th Infantry division during the retreat. Easily some of the best and well-equipped troops in the Heer, although they lacked the signature gas masks of the regular Jaegar Korps.

Garhardus himself noticed that the 96th division troops actually carried the same weapon as him, the FG-42. Although there did appear to be several visual differences he could discern from the distance, probably because they were the licence model built in the Changeling lands. Gerhardus meanwhile carried the Reich pattern and manufactured version. He’d have to ask about getting a better look at theirs, compare specs maybe.

“Jachs” Joseph stated holding out a hoof.

“Radowitz.” The other changeling replied as they shook hooves.

After dropping their hooves, Joseph cracked an ear-to-ear grin and pulled the other Changeling into a hug “thanks you old pirate.”

After returning the embrace, the two parted. Lighting up his horn, Jachs levitated a hip flask and box of cigarettes out of his coat pocked “I think this calls for a celebration!” the Infantry commander chuckled.

Around them, the escorting Vrakian riflemen and 96th division troops introduced themselves to each other. The troops trading cigars and chocolate with each other. One of the Vrakian troops even drew their broadsword and used it as an improvised cigar-cutter, an immediate sese of comradery with their rescuers had developed.

“You know I don’t smoke.” Joseph stated before laughing “This seems like the perfect time to start!”

“I’ll second that.” Hardus interjected “Gerhardus Omsclaw, pleased to meet you.”

Standing in the middle of a ruined street, a collection of Changelings from 5 different Hives and a Griffon shared a meagre amount of tobacco and alcohol. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. They laughed and joked, sharing a few stories and anecdotes. News quickly spread throughout the city, Changelings cheered as the Equestrians withdrew.

Despite the odds, despite the defenders teetering on the verge of defeat and the ponies nearly breaking through more than once, they’d done it. The city had been defended and the troops in Chicoltgo had survived.

One hour later

Standing in the commanders hatch of a Queens Guard King Tiger tank; Chrysalis, Queen of all Changelings, surveyed the city. Chicoltgo was in ruins, the constant fighting over almost two full weeks would have that effect on any city. The level of destruction still surprised her, the Equestrians were certainly desperate if they were willing to do this to their own city.

Her tank rolled down the ruined road, Changelings lining each side of the path and cheering her on. The defenders of Chicoltgo would see that their Queen had made good on her promise, and they would love her for it. While Oberst Jachs 96th infantry division were the first troops in the city, the fact that Chrysalis was here within the hour would certainly boost her reputation.

Following in two lines along her column of tanks were the black armoured lings of the Queens guard. The gleaming armour was polished to perfection, the great Queen would have it no other way. Despite them muddying themselves at the battle just west of here, they’d gotten everything polished on the march.

Chrysalis had avoided battles ever since Canterlot, leaving the business of war to the much more capable Trimmel (not that she’d ever admit it). The battle was certainly exciting, it was good for Chrysalis to finally see what all the Hype around Trimmel’s leadership was. The way he commanded those scores of soldiers was mystifying.

The victory wasn’t as complete as either of them would have liked however, it wasn’t the truly decisive battle they’d hoped for. Shining Armour’s Crystal Imperial Army had taken a beating against Marshal Synoval’s forces and were falling back to cover the Crystal city, although they were badly mauled.

Field Marshal Bluebloods Equestrian army was different. Despite fighting well, the Equestrian Marshal had withdrawn his forces and was now retreating east. The Equestrians retreated in good order, Blueblood keeping his army intact and able to fight another day. Chrysalis didn’t understand it really, he could have kept up the battle, but chose not to; Trimmel however thought it sound strategy, and she wouldn’t disagree with Trimmel on military matters.

Speaking of Trimmel…

Chrysalis swivelled her head and glanced at Trimmel. The HivesMarshal wasn’t happy to being relegated to second in line and following her into the city. After only a few minutes of arguing and a mild exchange of threats, he’d begrudgingly conceded and let her proceed at the head of the group. Unlike the pure white and stainless uniform of Chrysalis, Trimmels grey uniform was also dirtier. Mud stains and the general wear of constant use had given him a more rugged appearance.

Spotting Trimmel light up his magic, the Queen saw him levitate a radio up to his mouth. Using a free hoof he gestured down into the commanders hatch. Scanning down, she spotted a radio in her own tank and picked it up in her green magic. Clicking it into life, the radio linked to the vehicle behind her.

“Chrysalis you rotting swamp monster!” Trimmel greeted over the radio “Your tank appears to have been taken over by a water bloated corpse.”

“Trimmel” Chrysalis rolled her eyes “Did you just want to insult me or do you have something important to say.”

“I do actually, just overheard on the radio that General Lucinidea Antax just took Yakistown.” The HiveMarshals voice crackled over the speaker.

“Oh excellent.” Chrysalis smirked, the first of her enemies capitals to fall “Antax you say? Make him governor!” she proclaimed.

If Chrysalis turned her head, she’d have seen Trimmel facehoof and groan “You sure? That sets the precedent that the Changeling who gets their hoof through the door first becomes governor.”

“That’s exactly the precedent I want. Obviously they’ll be exceptions, but it can’t hurt. Make sure it happens, The Queen of all Changelings demands it.” Chrysalis cackled.

“Sure, I’ll see to it. I don’t suppose you’ll accept a dibs on the Crystal Empire?” the HivesMashal asked over the radio.

Laughing, Chrysalis waved a hoof at some cheering Changelings before continuing her conversation with Trimmel “I’ll get that dibs in writing.”

“While I’m at it, isn’t Queen of all Changelings a stupid title?” Trimmel chastised.

Frowning for a moment, she lifted the radio up “How so? seems accurate enough to me.” It was a question which genuinely confused her.

“Does Grenclyf not count?” Trimmel hit back.

Ah that made sense, the status of Grenclyf was a strange one in the changeling world after all. “Officially, Queen Gytha recognises my crown as ruler of the Changelings. In practice, I have zero power there and they’re heavily leaning into the Thoraxian camp.”

“Why pay lip service to you then, seems like a waste of time. If they’re Thoraxian leaning, then why not openly oppose you?” Trimmel asked.

“You can lead an army Trimmel, but subterfuge and politics fly right over you don’t they?” a noncommittal grunt was the reply “Paying lip service to me puts them in the Vesiopolis economic sphere, they get better tariffs on imports and exports from us. It also keeps her options open, recognising me while funding the Thoraxians lets them back whoever wins. For me meanwhile, I get the recognition of being Queen of ALL Changelings. I also keep my enemies close, having the Changelings funding the Thoraxians in our sphere makes tracking the rebels a lot easier.”

Trimmel paused for a while “I’m assuming there’s more you aren’t telling me?”

Chrysalis smirked, Trimmel probably wouldn’t ever know the full extent of her operations. No offence to him, but he was perhaps her most direct and blunt weapon to wield, the fine dagger of Vaspier would always be her go-to weapon. Despite the Heer being the largest jewel in her crown, she had other diamonds. “Always Trimmel darling, and there’s plenty I assume you don’t tell me.”

“I always have a card to play love” Trimmel replied with more snark than any other Changeling alive could get away with.

The conversation between the two Changelings was quiet for a moment. With nothing to entertain herself with, Chrysalis turned back to the long tradition of smiling and waving. Appearing graceful and present to her subjects and soldiers, it was a noble task. Her previous tactic of ruling through tyranny wasn’t sustainable, styling herself as a Celestia like ruler should be better in the long run.

Chrysalis was content with the smile and wave arrangement until a question burned into her mind. Grabbing the radio in her magic again, she sought answers “Wait Trimmel, how are you talking to me through the radio? Aren’t you deaf.” With his impeccable ability to perfectly lip read and emotion sensing magic, Trimmel being deaf was something Chrysalis often forgot.

“I’ve got ling for that. Hopper down there translates it for me, say hi Hopper.” There was some minor shuffling on Trimmels end before a different Changeling nervously greeted her “Hi.”

“Hello to you as well Hopper.” Chrysalis politely replied.

After a couple seconds of silence, Trimmels voice once again came through the radio “Hold up, remember that bird we came here to save?”

“Yeah?” Chrysalis replied.

“I think we just found him, check you 11 o’clock.” Trimmel stated.

“My what?” she asked, confused. Trimmel often spoke in military jargon she didn’t understand, just one of his many joyous traits.

“Front left you uneducated hack.” He helpfully explained.

Choosing to ignore the ever-helpful HivesMarshal, Chrysalis slowly rotated her head and scanned just to the left of her tank. Standing by the side of the road waited a Griffon, standing on either side of the avian were two Changelings in officers uniforms. While she didn’t recognise either of them, it could be assumed that one of them was Jachs, and the other was the garrison commander.

“Stop us here driver.” The Queen ordered “and summon my cameraling.”

As the tank halted on the spot, Queen Chrysalis lit up her horn and teleported out of the tank. Appearing on the pavement, Chryalis began to slowly walk towards the trio. Seeing her approach, the two Changelings bowed before the Queen, it was the typical response after all. Gerhardus meanwhile raised a claw and removed his obsidian-coloured beret and nodded.

The fact that he’d even reacted at all surprised the Queen, most mercenaries she’d met never respected royal authority. They were a rude and undisciplined lot, only particularly interest in the local currency. Chrysalis was starting to see why this one came so highly recommended, respectful without being a bootlicker, and skilled enough to potentially have saved tens of thousands of changelings.

Trimmel certainly thought that this Gerhardus Omsclaw was worth the money they were paying him. That reminded Chrysalis, she needed to figure out exactly how much money they were paying him; perhaps he’d appreciate a bonus after all the good work of these past weeks.

Stopping in front of the three beings, Chrysalis smiled “I suppose I have you three to thank for holding this city. You may rise.”

Daring a glance up, Jachs spoke interjected “Not me your majesty, I only arrived within the hour.”

“Hush Oberst, your division braved a lot of fire to get here. First in the door always counts for something.” Chrysalis chuckled “Oberst Radowitz, Mercenary Radowitz, you two have amassed quite the reputation these past days.”

“I already had a reputation,” Gerhardus Omsclaw blandly stated as he replaced his beret.

“Now its known continent wide” a new voice broke into the conversation. Having spent some time getting out of his tank, Trimmel arrived alongside Chrysalis “A lot of the Heer was quite mistrustful of you, what with your past contracts in Equestria and Crystal empire. As for you Oberst Radowitz, you can expect a promotion in the immediate future.”

“Thank you very much sir.” Radowitz nodded stiffly “Just doing my job.”

“No you didn’t” Chrysalis told the Changeling with a smile “You went above and beyond the duty of an officer of the Heer.”

“I meanwhile, actually did just do my job.” Gerhardus told Radowitz as he nudged him.

“Yeah you did, what do they call you again?” Trimmel pondered.

“Griffonias firegriff.” Jachs joined in “They say he’s fought in every war on the continent since 1000”

“Oberst Jachs, I wasn’t aware that you were so well educated on our mercenary here.” Trimmel said.

“Pays well to keep informed sir.” He told the HivesMarshal.

Quietly nodding in approval Chrysalis leaned in on Trimmel and whispered “I like that one, keep an eye on him.” straightening up again, Chrysalis smiled at the trio “I hope you won’t mind indulging me in a few pictures, perhaps an interview or two?”

“I’m sure we can manage a few your Majesty.” Radowitz said before yawning.

Smirking, Gerhardus sat back on his haunches and raised both his paws. Catching Trimmels eye, he raised the hooves and used them to speak in standard sign language “He’s not slept in days” being positioned at the back of the group, neither Jachs of Joseph saw it. Joseph was busy profusely apologising to the Queen anyway, yawning in her presence, how horrible!

Nodding in understanding, Trimmel put a hoof in the air “I’m sure the Queen understands that you’re just tired after days of fighting, don’t you.” Shooting a glance at Chrysalis next to him.

Catching the gaze and her HivesMarshals tone, she nodded. Despite appearances, Chrysalis was very well educated and actually spoke several languages. She made a show of only speaking her native Changeling tongue and Hertzlandic, it lulled ambassadors into a false sense of security around her; it was staggering how often they’d reveal secrets in talks. In this case, her ability to understand standard sign language had come in helpful. Only Trimmel and her nephew knew she understood it.

While she was desperate for some pictures and interviews for the press, Chrysalis also knew that parading a changeling who looked like they were about to drop dead around wasn’t a great idea. It’d make a good picture of the first meeting, but she needed Radowitz in better health for interviews and TV appearances.

“Oh I understand completely.” Chrysalis said, gently placing a hoof on Joseph’s shoulder “It’s been a tiring and trying few days for us all. After a few pictures, I’m sure some rest would do us all good.”

Chrysalis could see Oberst Radowitz sag in relief at the thought of some sleep. She could appreciate that, she was no stranger to late nights from the early days of the Hives unification. Since the situation stabilised however, she’d gradually delegated more and more responsibilities of governance away.

Although she could still feel for the Changeling, Chrysalis still needed those pictures, and she wasn’t above forcing someling to do it. Fear and force used to keep them in line, and sometimes a good old iron hoof helped; the many purges and death squads combing rebel hotspots and the mass executions of Thoraxians certainly proved that. However, the gentle hoof had been working out well the past few years.

Conveniently arriving at that time, was Chrysalis cameraling. The changeling she tasked with making everything look as good as possible, and who regularly succeeded at it. While she didn’t make the very short list of changelings Chryslis actually trusted, Ms Flash was certainly afforded more liberties and leeway than other changelings.

Holding up a flash camera in her magic, the cameraling looked at the group “Everyling get together”.

The changelings and griffons all stood together in a line, the defenders of Chicoltgo stood in the centre, Gerhardus and Radowitz. On their left was Jachs and on their right stood Chrysalis and Trimmel. Towering over everyone else in the picture, the Queen of all Changelings stood regal as ever. She even draped a hoof gently over Oberst Radowitz’s back.

After a few pictures, the Queen decided that those were enough. “Alright that’s enough Ms Flash.” Instantly the camerling lowered the camera “You know the drill, walk around and picture whatever seems interesting.” Nodding, Flash began to trot away looking for whatever would make a good picture.

Chrysalis meanwhile needed a private conversation with their native Griffon mercenary. Details of which even Trimmel wasn’t privy to. “Oberst Radowitz, I’m sure you can oversee to your troops getting some rest.”

“Yes your highness.” Radowitz stiffly responded, on the verge of collapsing.

“Then by all means.” She raised a hoof, Radowitz saluted and trotted away “HivesMarshal Trimmel, Oberst Jachs, I believe you two have a war to oversee?”

“Yeah we’ll get right on that.” Trimmel confessed “The drive to the Crystal City isn’t going to lead itself. Come on Oberst, let’s go end an empire.”

Trimmel raised a hoof and tipped his hat at Chrysalis then trotted away. Jachs just saluted and followed hot on the HivesMarshals hooves. The Queen of all Changelings could certainly see big things in both of their futures. The sky was the limit for her ambition, and the world was the limit for Trimmels skills.

“I assume this is where you try to lather me up or kill me.” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Turning her head around, Chrysalis looked at her Griffon mercenary. Now alone, he stood on three legs and held his Reich FG-42 up in the air, claw on the trigger. He was alert and ready to fight, she could see that he was ready to defend himself. A good instinct, he knew that she wanted him alone and was prepared for the worst.

This Griffon had given her a great triumph, holding down significant chunks of the Equestrian and Crystal armies, denying them a vital railway hub for the great and unnamed battle earlier today. In all honesty she’d love to keep him around, but life had other plans. While the letter she had seemed unopened, she’d already read it over several times. A letter from the Griffon Reich, addressed to the mercenary she employed.

“Good instincts, but no. Trust me if I wanted you dead I wouldn’t do it myself, and if I did then I would have incinerated you already.” Chrysalis said, her sinister smile showing that she was fully serious “I’ve actually got a letter for you, I understand its private.”

Lighting up her magic, she lifted a letter from the insides of her coat and levitated it over to Gerhardus. Frowning, he slung his rifle over and extended a claw over to grab the letter. It was a letter from the Kaiser, written in his handwriting and stamped in gold with his own seal in gold wax. Turning it over a few times he examined the exterior before looking up at her.

“You’ve opened this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Mr Omsclaw I assure you…” Chrysalis began indignantly.

“Don’t even bother, I can tell by the way its folded that it’s been resealed.” Gerhardus said cracking the seal and starting to read the letter.

“Good eye then.” Chrysalis confessed, impressed that he’d spotted the details.

What she couldn’t know was the real way Gerhardus had spotted it being opened. While the gold seal was accurate and followed all the written instructions and laws for the Kaisers letters, that was exactly why it failed. Known only to the Kaiser and a few trusted individuals, was that the wax seal must always be imperfect. Deformities in the seal and impurities in the wax such as some very minor colour mixings were the most common ways.

The fact that this seal was perfect and his general suspicion on Chrysalis confirmed to the Griffon that she’d opened it. Not that he’d let it slip, making up some utter bollocks about the folding paper was far easier.

With a growing smile on his beak, Gerhardus cackled and folded the letter up again. Tucking it gently inside his jacket, Gerhardus wore a victorious grin “Can I borrow a plane? I have business on Griffonia.”

“Of course.” Chrysalis nodded, already having given the order for a plane to be prepared “Though I must ask, why are you so desperate to overthrow the Republic?” Chrysalis all but confirming she’d read the letter “I wouldn’t take you for a hardcore monarchist.”

The contents of the letter explained that the Reich invasion of the Griffonian republic to its north and Aquelian Republic to its south was imminent. Highly classified information, even if the whole world knew it was coming. The letter informed Gerhardus in simply terms to return to Griffonia and help lead the invasion of the north.

“I frankly don’t care about the republic or its ideals.” Gerhardus confessed with a chuckle “It’s the leader I’m after. I’ve got a personal grudge with Kemerskai that needs settling.”

“Lovely, I hope that goes well for you.” Chrysalis said “Oberstleutnant Lilac!” she shouted.

Turning around, a well-dressed Heer officer had suddenly appeared next to Chrysalis. Wearing the signature grey uniform of the Queens Guard, Oberstleutnant Lilac was the picture-perfect member of the Queens Guard. Her glowing blue eyes and long blue hair differentiated her from the other changelings of the guard.

“Yes your majesty?” she asked with a salute.

“See to it that we pay Mr Gerhardus, then make sure he gets to the plane I had you arrange yesterday.” Chrysalis commanded.

“Yes ma’am.” The Changeling saluted “Follow me Mr Gerhardus.” Oberstleutnant Lilac said as she turned and trotted away.

Gerhardus nodded at Chrysalis “I have a feeling we’ll cross paths again.” Then turned and followed Lilac away “Also don’t call me Mr, makes me feel my age.”

Watching the Griffon and one of her best guards leave, Chrysalis smirked. Despite this war having been reduced to two exhausted countries punching each other seeing who’d go down first, everything was coming up Changeling! Soon enough, she’d have her victory, soon enough the era of the Changeling would begin.

But first she needed a drink, and a smoke. Just a few pictures, maybe an interview or two, and she’d be right back in her nice comfortable tower. Perhaps it was finally time to open the ‘emergency caviar’ when she got back.

Author's Note

And thus the siege of Chicoltgo ends, at last. Next stop, the Crystal empire.

This chapter ended up being way longer than I originally intended, the Chrysalis and Trimmel section of the story ended up becoming quite a bit bloated unfortunately. I've said it before and I'll say it again, those two are my absolute favourite characters to write thus far and I just can't stop once I've started.

So far, the Crystal Empire should just be one chapter long, although I'm not ruling out splitting it up if it becomes bloated (again). After that its Canterlot then I'm FINALLY heading over to Griffonia with Flurry and Grover.

The relief of Chicoltgo was originally going to be this big grand battle with Jachs storming in and saving the day, styled after the film 'Gettysburg'. But I decided to take more inspiration from the siege of Bastogne and the film Black Hawk Down for this one. I preferred the quieter ending, not all wars end with one big decisive battle (although this series is hopefully going to have a lot of that).

If you've got any questions or complaints feel free to drop those in the comments and I'll get right back to you.