6th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)

23:50 Hours

Stalliongrad, Petershoof

Shores

The coastal city of Petershoof was quite possibly the most significant port in the Severyanian Soviet Socialist Republic. Despite occasional skirmishes with Equestrian locals drifting in from the sea, the city enjoyed relative peace.

However, the tranquility could be unnerving at times.

Such was the case for Sickle Winger, a newly assigned patrol officer. Trotting along the boulevard adjacent to the beach, his rifle was holstered neatly at his side. Sickle had joined the Red Army a year ago, and this was his first assignment following rigorous training in boot camp. It was a dark, cold night—colder than usual, but typical of Severyanian weather.

He inhaled deeply, letting the fresh, salty sea air fill his lungs as he continued his patrol. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing, but Sickle was tired. He would have preferred to be home, taking care of his Babushka, but duty called. He was determined to fulfill his responsibilities to the best of his abilities.

After several minutes, the sound of the clock tower striking midnight echoed through the night. Sickle stopped and turned his head toward the city, sighing deeply. He spotted a lamppost that seemed like a perfect spot for a short break. Trotting over, he leaned against it and reached into his saddlebag, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he took a long drag, the smoke filling his lungs before he exhaled and closed his eyes.

But the toll of the clock tower did not cease.

Dum... dum...

Huh?

Sickle opened his eyes, feeling the ground tremble beneath him. The deep, resonant toll of a massive bell continued, even though the city’s clock tower showed it was past midnight. The bell should have stopped tolling by now.

Another tremor. The distant groaning of the toll persisted, vibrations shaking him to his core. His ears twitched, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. His eyes narrowed. Another tremble.

The sound was coming from the sea.

Sickle Winger, now anxious, turned towards the ocean. Confusion gripped him as the relentless noise continued. His heart pounded in his chest as lights appeared in the distance. As they drew closer to the shore, illuminated by the city’s lights, the true horror of what approached became clear.

Towering on three long, snake-like legs with smooth, oval heads, monstrous machines advanced towards Petershoof. The city's serenity shattered as rockets fired from these behemoths, igniting the night in fiery chaos. The Russian juggernaut was unleashed.

Helicopters roared into view. The towering automechs reached the beach, their massive legs crushing cobblestones as they fired more shells into the city. Searchlights activated, cutting through the darkness. Carrier helicopters landed, releasing soldiers in gas masks alongside grotesque combat beasts. These abominations shrieked and wailed, bashing into buildings and devouring anything in their path except for the Russian troops. Programmed for carnage, they wreaked havoc.

The Russians cried "ZA TSARYA!" as they charged into the city, smashing buildings and slaughtering anyone in sight. Gas grenades were thrown, their noxious fumes choking the surprised ponies, tearing at their lungs and causing them to drown in their own blood.

And Sickle Winger? He stood frozen in fear and awe, his body impaled by one of the automech’s legs. His last moments were filled with terror as he witnessed the monstrosities before him.

By morning, the world would awaken to the Russian bear feasting upon the Soviet republic. The horrors of man's brutality had been unleashed.

May God have mercy upon them all.

07:30 Hours

New Mareland, Sunset

Parliament House, Executive Wing

Meeting Room

Edward was never gauked at this much in his life.

Even children were less rude than this. Despite seeing talking animals with actual governments formed, and as Edward saw during the convoy from that airfield to the Parliament House, protests, this wasn’t the strangest thing he had seen yet. God knows that his species created far more abhorrent and strange beings than this.

But the way these pastel-colored ponies were staring at him, it was as if he was the abnormality. Although seeing their technological level from the convoy in which he was driven through this city of Sunset, which truth be told, he had to admit it looked quite nice indeed. He assumed it was the visible vein-like metal on his face that was the biggest question for them all.

He just sat there on the chair at the other end of the table, in the awkard silence as all the assumed ministers were all staring at him and the Governor-General, Jet Set, infront of him at the other end of the table looking nervous, with a sad excuse of a smile. The only sound in this room was the ticking of the clock and the breathing of the ponies, alongside the muffled trotting outside the room. Yes, he could hear it as the advanced hearing implants permited a perfecting hearing radius of 10 meters, regardless of how whispered they were.

“So..” the Prince began. “..are we to begin discussions or are you all to simply stare at me?”

That seemed to snap them all out of their state of shock as all of them frogblinked before the sky-blue pony who called himself ‘Royal Pin’ began to speak.

“U-Uh, right, I-..” he began to fumble through the papers as he moved his hooves before he levitated the letter that was sent first. “S-So, it says here that your government wishes to territory to be given to your nation and your colonial nation which is called ‘America’ as short?”

“That is so.” uttered Edward.

“Right, uh, your highness, I believe you prefer, don’t you?” asked Royal Pin, who sighed a breath of relief at the prince of ‘Wales’ nodding. “I don’t believe that would be plausible without approval from Canterlot, as the Governor-General is aware.”

“Canterlot?” asked Edward, raising an eyebrow.

“Yea, it’s the capital of our dubious overlord, Equestria which is on Equus.” answered Sour Sweet in a false tone. Edward nodded at that as he quickly realized that he was dealing with a colony.

“B-But I do believe that we can decide for ourselves if we ought to grant previsions if the Governor-General permits it.” interrupted Neon Lights, raising his hoof before he moved it to point at the stallion at the end of the table.

“Indeed. “ answered Jet Set, in which he crossed his arms. “In essence, your highness..” he began as he leaned back against the seat. “..I do believe an explanation is in order. For instance, who really are you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and an increasingly stoic face. “And more importantly why should we help you?”

Edward stood there quietly, carefully considering his words as he searched for other ways to properly explain the lack of choice these ponies had in the matter since Edward realized just how woefully inferior they were just by the short tour through this beautiful city. Try as he might, he couldn’t find any other way to be diplomatic other than to be direct. However, he decided to see if they would appeal to morality first before being direct in his explanations.

“Mister Governor-General, the reason is that my kind and my people have gone through a perticularly devistating war that resulted in the..” he clicked his tounge. “...absolute anihilation of the world. It was only through a device that teleported us here that the survival of our species was guaranteed. Besides, Her Majesty’s government already has a lot on its’ hands in terms of dealing with approximately 50 million souls all crowded within the city, all of whom were hestially evacuated. The time you are wasting here with me is time that the government would put to better use dispersing through the countryside. If you were to visit London, entire streets have been turned into shelters with tents and such. Even my grandmother had opened the gates of Buckingham Palace to allow people places to sleep. “

The entire cabinet was quiet. Fifty million? That was more than the entire population of New Mareland 3 times over. Even the mare who was documenting the meeting through transcript on a typewriter also stopped as her eyes widened.

“I-I’m sorry, you said fifty..” bluttered out Neon Lights.”..million? As in six zeros?”

“I believe I said the word correct, yes.” answered Edward. His plan was working, it seemed.

“So what?” asked Sour Sweet. “That just means a bigger mob that will join our side once we distrubte OUR food to them!”

“Now hang on, Sour, I-” began Neon Lights but was interrupted by Sour Sweet.
“We have the capabilites to feed them, don’t we?”
“W-Well, it mi-”
“Answer me in a simple yes or no!” shouted Sour.

To which, Neon quietly replied a simple. “...yes.”

I am starting to see why you got that name, you pastel-colored donkey. thought Edward as he stared at the lemon-coloured pony with a calm face, whom was staring back at the human with a smug face. Edward, right now, desired nothing more than to beat the living shit out of this mare and throw her into the River Thames and let the hazardous water deal with her, however he kept his cool.

Edward then looked at the entire cabinet, whom despite some hesistation, all seemed to agree with her. Very well. Edward sighed internally before he replicated the sigh with his physically body. Edward was tired of war and he certainly didn’t want to see another war, not especially after the horrors of three global wars, all more horrifying than the last. He didn’t wish to resort to threats with very real backing but fate wouldn’t allow him to be civil. No matter, he had a job to do and that was to secure Britannia’s future in this world, so he sighed one last time.

“With all due respect, madam, I am afraid you are quite wrong in that matter.”

“How?” asked Sour Sweet, clearly interested at this fight-back.

“Because you can’t afford a war with Britain. Literally.”

Jet Set was sensing where this was going, so he tried to intervene. “N-Now hang on a minute-!” but he was interrupted by Sour Sweet’s pride who raised her hoof. “No, no. I want to hear how this ape thinks he is better than us.”

Edward sighed as he got up slowly. “A minute, if you would.” he said before he walked over to his quiet principal secretary as the man stood up and presented the briefcase for the Prince of Wales. Edward opened it as he fliped through papers. “No, too bland..”

“..too boring..” he fliped through another paper. “..too blatant.”

Everypony was staring at the Prince, curious as to what he got in that briefcase that he wished to show them. After a few moments of shuffling, he exclaimed. “Here we are.” he said as he pulled out a single file that was rather thick of about 10 to 15 pages.

He grinned as he moved the thing to one hand, looking at the cabinet and eyeing Sour Sweet at times. “This..” he placed a hand onto the file. “...is just one of Britain’s older weapons against her enemies.” he uttered as he let the file hit the table. “It is called a combatagate primordial form.” he said as he watched Jet Set levitated the file and opened it.

The contents of it immediately began to horrify them all, even Sour Sweet’s color vanished, showing her freckles on her face with vivid image.

“My good fellows, that is simply one part of Britain’s long arsenal of rather exotic weaponry.” he says as he watches them all turn their heads to him, back to the file and then returning to face him. In their eyes, there was a fear of the highest order: a fear of the unkown. All of them had their eyes widened. What he would say would turn them into pinpricks.

“And that is simply the de-classified one. The older..” he chuckled. “..rather outdated model by Imperial standards. Newer models that I have just been told exist due to my position as Prince of Wales are now in use.”

The air seemed to get colder. Their eyes began to have pinpricks, some of them began to take long and heavy breaths of air.

“Now then, esteemed ministers. I ask you to allow me to inform you of the beast that you are dealing with at the current moment. Britannia has a long and magnificent history to be proud of. An empire upon which the sun never, ever set. “ he said as he took his seat slowly, resting on it as he began to own the room, crossing his fingers. “Of course, we are at right to call ourselves that title considering that we owned 40% of the former globe. My kind is an interesting species, the smartest and dumbest one at the same time. We ended our world because our ideas. Ideas.”

“I-..” Jet Set began as he could not find his voice. The relevations completely changed the equation. They were not dealing with an alien country, seemingly on the verge of collapse. No. They were infact dealing with a proud nation. “..I see.”

“You must be bluffing.” blurted out Sour Sweet.

“My dear, I have a grandmother that is 143 years old and yet still looks young. She has outlived 3 successors to the Crown. I am the fourth heir apparent after the death of my great uncle. She has had her 110th julibee on a species that is not meant to I have survived through 3 wars that involved the entire globe of which the numbers are so high, I promise you, if you read a single file, you would not get any sleep tonight. That file contains but one weapon of mass destruction out of a very, very long list. Right now, I bet, there are generals within the Ministry of Defence who are pleading with grandmother to sign a declaration of war upon you to swiftly crush you under Britannia’s weight. Now, Victoria has always been a passionate one, as I am, about peaceful and civilized ways of dealing with conflicts, however, everyone has their patience. And I fear that if I do not leave this city with a signed treaty in hand to present to Her Majesty, then you shall witness..” he clicked his tounge as he looked out the window behind the Governor-General. “...as a certain Nikola Tesla, one of man’s greatest inventors, placed it ‘man-made horrors beyond your comprehension.’” he said as he closed his mouth, taking a deep breath of air in. “Would be a rather great shame. Grandmother rather would have enjoyed visiting this lovely city with my niece. “ he said as he turned around.

“I suppose one’s pride would get in the way of things, pride always does tha-” he spoke as he walked towards the door, before he was stopped by a shivered cry.

“W-Wait!”

Edward stopped right infront of the door. There it is.

He turned around, looking at the cabinet who was now truly afraid of the implications. They had now realized the full extent of what was facing them. It wasn’t a simple alien civilization that was on the verge of collapse, far from it infact. They were dealing with a civilization that was hardened by warfare and no longer cared. The perfect sociopathic one. An Empire more ruthless and more dangerous than even the Griffonian Empire.

“I-I agree, in terms of peaceful gestures..” Jet Set continued. “..that I shall grant the countries identified as the United Kingdom of Imperial Britain and Ireland...” he said as he looked in the eyes of the Prince of Wales. “..and her colony, the United Commonwealth of America, their respective territories as designated by the maps, by you, your Highness.” he finished, pushing his glasses up as he tried to put on a brave face, but somewhat failed as his ears drooped.

“So we agree.” decreed Edward as his principal secretary walked over, placing his briefcase onto the table before opening it and grabbing two pieces of partchment that were the proposed treaties. He then placed those documents down alongside a pen.

Edward walked over, walking closer and closer to Jet Set until he was just about next to the unicorn. “The inviting party signs first.” says the principal secretary, to Jet Set who was so nervous that he could barely control his own levitations. The stallion levitated the pen, to which he made a barely-good signaure and then held it up for Edward. Edward looked at it for a moment, moving his hand below the pen to see if it really was reality, seeing the pen was indeed levitation. He chuckled before he placed his fingers on the pen, Jet Set removing his levitation from it with a slight smile seeing the prince chuckle. One could see that the smile was incredibly anxious and frightful.

The man then signed the first treaty. The same occured with the second treaty.

After the documents were signed, the principal secretary dripped some wax onto the two papers before stamping them both with the Crown’s seal.

“Well, I do suppose it is time for a show.” said Edward as he crossed his arms behind his back.

“A show?” asked Jet Set as he looked up.
“Indeed, haven’t you seen the cameras all up?” he chuckled. “Cheer up lad, don’t look so broody with that face, after all, England loves those who do good deeds for her.” he chuckled.

As the two of them walked out of the room, leaving the stunned members before they reached the outside. There were already flashes of light from the cameras and tons of voices asking for a picture or questions. The amount of reporters here could have been considered equal to a Princess of Equestria arriving. Perhaps even a greater number as more griffons were also here. Edward raised his hands, waving them down. “If I may!” he shouted.
After a few seconds, the crowd calmed down.

“Thank you, thank you. Uh.” he said before he moved his hands down. “It is a great pleasure to say that my meeting with the Governor-General has been a great success and that this will surely result in greater relationships between Britain and New Mareland, and hopefully Equestria itself indeed!”

All Jet Set could say was “Yes.”

Edward then grabbed the stallion’s hoof and shook it, much to Jet Set’s suprise. Jet Set’s ear twiched as he heard Edward mutter “smile for the cameras..”

As the pictures were taken, and the two were getting slightly blinded as they looked at the lot..

...Britain’s fate was secured.

Now is the time for action.

Author's Note

Update on the Russian campagin!

Enjoy! 🙂