Chapters Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
6th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
03:30 Hours
London
Ministry of Defence Main Building
This new world seemed to not understand that London was not used to cold weather. It was used to wet weather.
Colonel Edmund Blackadder adjusted his coat as he walked through the crowded and busy hallways of the Ministry of Defence Main Building. There were officer staff and other bureaucrats moving paperwork about as outside it was snowing. Snow in London was not normal. Either way, ever since Operation Glorious Showdown's splendid success, all troop movement was, due to obvious reasons, diverted to securing the city's defenses against anything that might threaten the safety of the city. Any shred of normalcy was thrown out the window long ago.
The Telecon & Communications Room was buzzing with operators, especially after contact had been made with Philadelphia, establishing the fact that other aligned nations had also successfully managed to transfer their cities and populations. However, there were also detections of other forms of communications—ones that were eerily similar to Britain's, yet somehow outdated.
Either way, that did not concern Blackadder, for currently, he had received a memo via his phone that he was to come to Melchett's office for a special reason. Knowing the man, who had taken cybernetic implants which did not help with the man's sanity that was as existing as a vampire's reflection, it would be either for a stupid reason or for a good reason. Blackadder betted on the former.
He walked for a few minutes before he found the plaque that said "FIELD MARSHAL SIR ANTHONY CECIL HOGMANAY MELCHETT".
He stood before the double doors, straightened his uniform, grabbed his officer's cap off his head and moved it to his side, holding it by the arm. He then inhaled, closed his eyes, and exhaled. He opened his eyes as he faced the oak-wooden doors in front of him, straightening his mustache. He then grabbed the handles, pushed the doors open, and stepped in before closing the doors behind him, pushing his back against them.
The first thing he saw in the overly-extravagant office, with all the reminders of the Field Marshal's long and distinguished career with some seized antiques from his conquests in Africa, alongside the gold-plated letters of the quote, "If there be a God, I think that what he would like me to do is paint as much of the map of Earth as British Red as possible." by the colonial secretary, Cecil Rhodes, on the wall behind the Field Marshal's table, was Colonel Kevin Darling working on several piles of documents.
"What is it, Darling?"
Colonel Darling raised his head, pouting. "It's Colone-!" He was stopped by Blackadder raising his hand.
"Let's not repeat that scene, shall we?" Blackadder skidded his boots against the polished wooden floor, looking around. "The telemail summons you sent says that the Field Marshal has requested me for a 'special reason'." He pitched his nose, inhaling deeply. "One moment."
"What?" inquired Darling.
"Kevin, I am utterly terrified at the special reason and knowing the marshal, he is going to make me do something that would make me rather be on cleaning duty rather than follow his orders," Blackadder said, lowering his arm.
"What could possibly make you want latrine duty?"
"Oh, I don't know, perhaps taking a platoon of men to paint the grass in the trench system green because the Field Marshal said they looked 'far too brown and depressing.' God knows how the French didn't notice us. I still remember that German's face when I told him what we were doing."
Before Darling could speak, the adjacent door to the office was flung open. Melchett looked at the door handle in his cybernetic hand for a moment, blinking before he bellowed, "Damn this blasted arm!" He then let it fall, stepping into the room. "What's going on, Darling?"
Both men immediately clicked to attention as Darling opened his mouth to talk. "Colonel Blackadder to see you, sir!"
The Field Marshal looked at the other body in the room before he grinned, clapping his hand as he walked over. "Ah, Blackadder, splendid to see you here! At ease."
Blackadder put his arms behind his back, feeling the weight of the metallic arm of the Marshal on his shoulder. "Indeed, sir." He thanked the Lord he had his back's skin made slightly more robotic. He had to replace it after his back caught on fire on the Eastern Front.
"Now then, do you know why I called you here?" Melchett's grin didn't falter, his eyes looking at the Colonel with glee, daring the man to guess.
"Perhaps to tell me that I have done my duty and I can honorably discharge?" Blackadder guessed.
"Of course not!" The Field Marshal chuckled, slapping his hand on the Colonel's chest before stomping over to his desk. He then grunted as he took his seat. "No, nothing of the sort. After all, duty calls!" He crossed his fingers together, looking at the Colonel. "No, Colonel. What I want you to do is some reconnaissance!"
"Reconnaissance, sir?" inquired Blackadder. "Don't we have planes for that?"
"Bah! All the planes sadly melted from the nuclear blasts. No, we are doing this the old-fashioned way!" Melchett slapped his hands. "Now then, what I want you to do, Blackadder, is take a company of men and start exploring our surroundings in this alien world! You may take some of the hardsuits and mechanized units with you for extra security!"
"Ah yes, sir, I am all for security, but I must say that any presumed alien who sees a 3-meter-tall walking tin can with machineguns slapped onto them will most definitely not be thinking that we come in peace," Blackadder remarked. "I also must say that they are a bit overkill."
"No such thing!" Melchett said as he looked at a file. "And our Prime Minister has ordered us to start inspecting the territory nearby. Should we make contact with any aliens, we are to engage with them diplomatically." He said with glee, slapping the file cover closed. He looked at Blackadder, getting up and putting his arms behind his back.
Blackadder sighed inwardly, knowing that any attempt at diplomacy would probably end with him having to clean up the resulting mess—both metaphorical and literal. "Understood, sir. I'll prepare the men and the hardsuits."
"Good man!" shouted the marshal before sitting back down. "Dismissed. "
Blackadder clicks his heels, before he turns around and starts walking out of the office. He opens the doors, walks through and closes it.
Lord, give me strenght.
04:10 Hours
Outskirts of London
Captain Bennet's heavy, armor-plated boots crunched into the snow, leaving dirty footprints due to the weight of his armor. In his hands, he held a shellgun. A shellgun was a mounted, albeit slightly smaller, artillery piece modified to look like a grenade launcher, but bigger. It could fire one shot at a time, using 40mm pieces wrapped on a belt around the hardsuit. It had a bolt and could fit one shell at a time. If it was used alone, one would need to be fast in that hardsuit or risk getting incapacitated by an anti-tank shell. If a group, at least three people, would use it, then God have mercy on whom it may concern. It was also heavy and could get stuck if it wasn't oiled well enough.
That's why hardsuits always had, at least, infantry support (although mechanized was generally preferred). If the combined arms approach was used, they would truly be an unstoppable force. There were also carrier-helicopters made specifically to carry hardsuit soldiers from one point to another, and they could also act as attack-helicopters that had mounted shellguns on them. The only issue was that it couldn't fly more than 100 meters above the ground due to the obvious weight on it.
Bennet didn't like the snow. It made his shellgun get wet. Alas, he continued to walk forward, flanked by two others, Sergeant James and Sergeant Garry.
"I haven't seen this clear a snow ever since the fifties," Garry uttered on the microphone implanted inside the helmet.
"Why?" asked James, slightly turning his head to Garry. "Were you sent to the Balkan Campaign early on?"
Garry nodded. "First bunch to be shipped off, lad." Garry got curious. "You?"
James turned to face the Captain's back before he looked forward, continuing the pace. "It was almost the same amount of snow in Borealia as here."
Garry followed the gesture, looking forward. "You're from Borealia?" asked Garry, to which James nodded. "Did you have a family back there?"
James grunted as he tilted his head down, looking at his shellgun. "Grandparents. Both dead."
A wave of silence fell, the only thing audible being the foreign wind blowing against the power armor before Garry muttered, "I'm sorry."
A sigh was heard on the radio, as James chuckled. "Don't be. They died before the nukes could kill 'em." There was a tinge of sorrowful happiness in that tone, James being happy that his grandparents died naturally. That sent Bennet on a memory spiral, remembering the Imperial Civil War in which the British Empire crushed the dissidents within the UCA, ensuring the crown jewel remained forever loyal to the Crown. Bennet was raised by an American father. He was killed by the rebels in New England during the first firefights. His father's death motivated Bennet to sacrifice his body and become a hardsuit soldier, wanting to get revenge on the rebels who brutally burned his father's barn. In the end, he did by becoming one of the most decorated super-soldiers of the British Empire and fighting in all the wars that Imperial Britain got herself in, fighting in a desperate bid to prove, perhaps to himself, that he was a loyalist British-American. Even after he was given official citizenship to the home islands, his insecurities still haunt him.
His thoughts were interrupted by child-like laughter. He raised his fist, halting. The other two halted. They too had heard the laughter. "Where is it coming from?" asked James.
"Over there!" Garry pointed at a light source in the distance as the other two turned their heads to the right to where Garry was pointing. The trio turned and walked towards the dim light, walking up the hill. The snow made it hard for them to walk without slipping and sliding down. James had to use his combat knife, shoving it into the ground to act as support. The weight of the shellgun held them down. Yet, the men pushed on, determined to see what was that eerie laughter.
After they got on top of the hill, they saw a small town with cottages all around it. What left them astounded were three small ponies in warm wear, playing with a ball. They were pastel-colored, and all of them reacted like humans would.
The three soldiers, men who had long forgotten the beauty of childhood, simply stared, confused.
The three fillies in question were laughing cheerfully. Sandy, a unicorn mare, levitated the ball to her earth pony friend, who in turn kicked it to Nighty Pike, their batpony friend who laughed as he caught the ball with his hooves.
"Oi, try not to kick it so hard, Muscles!" he shouted at the earth pony.
Muscles giggled as he grinned. "Sorry! I can't help it!"
All three of them laughed as Nighty threw the ball at Muscles again, who in turn kicked it hard directly over his head and at the hill behind them. Sandy looked over her shoulder before she looked back at her friends. "Quick, before mom and dad discover we are out of bed!" she shouted, before checking for lights being turned on.
"Okay, hang on!" Nighty shouted as he turned around and ran towards the hill to grab the ball. He was so focused on the ball that he didn't notice who was in front of him. As he grabbed the ball in his mouth, making sure his fangs didn’t accidentally dig into it, he looked up. His night vision showed him something that made his blood run cold. His mouth left agape, and the ball fell from his mouth, rolling back down the hill.
"Aye, what's wrong Nighty?" shouted Sandy as she caught the ball with her magic.
Nighty began to stutter. "M-M-M-M-M-...!" He then began to trot backward, fear filling his veins. "MONSTERS!" he shrieked as he began to run away.
The two looked at their friend running away before turning their heads to the hill. They heard the groan of something metallic, hissing, and slow stomping. Then they saw three giant, bipedal metal beasts about the size of a lamppost, staring at them. One of them was carrying what looked like a big knife. The three beasts simply stared at them with their neon-green visors. A robotic voice came from one of them. "Hello."
That was enough to snap them out of their paralysis and send them running and screaming.
"Hello." was all that Garry said. And that sent the little ponies running off.
"Great first impression. Maybe they saw yer ugly face. " joked James. That got James a push from Garry's hand. "Watch your mouth." Garry grunted to a chuckling James.
"Enough. " said Bennet as he turned around. "Based on this.." he turned his head, looking back at the villiage which lights were already turning on. "..it seems we made contact with an alien civilization." he shrugged.
"Should we report this?" asked James. The two turned their heads to James. Even behind the armor, it was clear that they were staring at him as if he was stupid. "We will. " simply answered Bennet and began to walk, the others walking forward, flanking Bennet.
Contact has been established.
Author's Note
Sorry for not posting anything for a week, I was on vacation and forgot to announce it.
Also, enjoy some Blackadder. (apologises if it is not funny)
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
Before we begin with the actual story itself, I feel obliged to give a bit of lore about the Hearts of Iron 4 mod that this story is regarded about as seeing there are no stories regarding the mod “Pax Britannica: an Imperial Timeline”.
Let us begin with the barebones of the lore. In essence, Pax Britannica asks the question “what if the American Revolution failed?”. As the question suggests, in this world, the American Revolution has failed and the United Kingdom maintained her grip over her colonies. It should also be noted that this story contains elements within every kind of punk, except for cyberpunk. It is, as the TvTropes page calls it, an dystopian Tesla Tech Timeline.
As one can imagine, this story has many concepts that recieve from Nikola Tesla and Thomas Edison’s wildest and, arguably, insane ideas coming to fruition. As a side note, the French Revolution also never occurs.
Now that you have read, and possibly understood, the basics of the lore. Allow me to introduce you to Her Royal Majesty, Queen Victoria.
The first thing any reasonable mind may notice is the way she looks. Why does she look that way? Why does she look like a bit of a zombie?
What came out of the Operating Room was one of the first human beings to survive surgical augmentation and organ transplantation, becoming a “living triumph of Imperial technical prowess”. In short, she became immortal.
Unfortunately, in this world, the Geneva Conventions are promptly ignored and the Hauge and Geneva Protocols are never signed, so the player has access to biopunk technologies, and also has the ability to research other forms of chemical and biological warfare tech alongside other deranged forms of technology such as livewire, which is literal living barbed wire, to use at their discretion. Of course, it also has elements of dieselpunk, which includes automotons, such as the one in the picture below, and of course, hardsuits (which can be best described as space marine power armor or fallout power armor) or Razormaidens, which are augmentated and biollogically modified female super humans that can act anywhere from super soldiers to spies. Each come with their own individual divisions.
(Also, yes, if you type livewire on YT, you get an interview log made by the creator of the mod).
Don't think this is going to simply be Britain into this story, as there will also be other nations that will be added, although I won't spoil them for now. Either way, it is an interesting mod that I would definetly recommend checking out. My interest for this mod is what has led me to have this desire to write this fanfiction tale.
Now that I have explained the mod and its' concepts and technology, let me begin with the first concept that I shall be offering the file that will be mentioned in the prologue.
EDISON IMPERIAL ELETRIC COMPANY
MINISTRY OF DEFENCE
TOP SECRET
FOR HER ROYAL MAJESTY AND THE PRIME MINISTER'S EYES ONLY
Reality Manipulation Machine
Operation Glorious Showdown
SUBJECT MATTER
1. PROJECT "REALITY TEARER" 2. OPERATION GLORIOUS SHOWDOWN
PROJECT REALITY TEARER
Approximately 3 weeks ago, the EIEC, in cooperation with the Imperial Sience and Technology Laboratory, has discovered what they call "reality manipulation". The documented files define reality manipulation as "warping and distorting reality in such a way that any persons may be capable of being transported to an entirely new reality". Preliminary tests have been conducted on various objects, and all have proven successful. The EIEC has created 10 Reality Manipulation Machines, all of which have shown to be capable of collective manipulation. All 10 of them have been tested on a dummy town, placed in spots that have encircled the town 360 degrees exactly, and a tracker. The town in question was distorted out of this reality, and the radar could not detect the town anywhere on the current planet.
The EIEC has also tested with measures of teleportation, and several tests have shown semi-success.
OPERATION GLORIOUS SHOWDOWN
As per the EIEC's discovery, the Ministry of Defence has formulated an evacuation plan, formally resulting an exodus of kind. At the order of Her Majesty, all military trains would join the civilian trains in order to successfully manage to evacuate as many civilians to the London as possible. During the occasion, the Royal Engineers will set up the machines in ten strategic locations within the outer parts of London, ensuring that the whole city of London will be transported to another world safely. Alongside that, further evacuations of our industrial capabilities and, what can be saved of, our military technological advancements including unfired warheads. Should it prove successful, our species of mankind will be saved. The only downside is that the EIEC and the Ministry can't guarantee it will function within full capacity, and it also can't be guaranteed that the city will be teleported in a safe location.
In light of recent events, and the activation of M.A.D launchers, the Ministry of Defence proposes we try. As the words of the scientists put it, "it is either we use the RMM and have a slimmer of hope at a chance of survival, or we remain and face assured obliteration."
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
5th of January, 1962
23:45 Hours
London, Westminister
10 Downing Street
It was an utter nightmare. An absolute and unparalleled nightmare.
It was an even greater nighmare than fighting 20 different princedoms in the Indian Subcontinent 30 years for Winston Churcill.
He had been elected in 1955, after Sir Anthony Eden resigned due to health complications. God bless that man's heart as he got the British Empire through the perilous storm that was the Second Great War, and, when the Imperial Civil War occured, managed to secure the treasonous United American Commonwealth back under Britannia's control. That man might have remained in cabinet longer if he had been augmentated.
Winston Churcill had taken the augmentation procedures back in 1933, and had gained popularity when he brought the entire Indian continent under British rule. It was a mess but he did it. Winston had used his immense popularity to get favors within the Haig faction of the Tories, especially since Eden had brought progressive policies to Britain which had made him popular amongst the unions and the Tories reformist faction. An economic boom occured in 1957, and it seemed that Winston would have an easy ministry and an easy term.
Unfortunately, it seemed Fate had other plans. After the Second Great War, it seemed that the Russians were not going to be united ever again, especially with the warlord conflicts that occured, besides the British Mandates of Moscow and Tsaritsyn, and the German Mandate of Saint Petersburg, as the United Kingdoms of Germany finally united all of Germany after bringing the Independant State of Prussia into the fold. On November 9th, 1960, Russia was reunited under the "Transcendant Empire of Holy Russia" which took theocracy and cranked it up by the thousand with their "God Engine" which they claimed had a direct communication line to God Himself.
His coughing interrupted his thoughts as he grabbed a cloth and wiped the spit off of his mouth. He inhaled, and exhaled. These prosthetic lungs were certainly better than his old ones that he had destroyed with his smoking, but his throat wasn't replaced.
He sighed as he looked at a report from the Ministry of Defence. They were getting pushed back, as the Russians have entered Warsaw and were using nuclear artilery at an accelerated rate. And they were showing no mercy as gas warefare was being used all across the Eastern Front to the point where only the Automoton and the Heavy Infantry Divisons could not be deployed without immediately dying. And the British Army was running out of tripods automats due to excessive usage of nukes being fired from the barrel of artilery.
Most of all, Winston Churchill was tired. He was tired of everything. He was tired of this god-forsaken war, he was tired of everyone panicing in his cabinet, he was tired of it all. He placed a strong face for the public, and his iconic 'V' for victory sign that he did, but behind closed doors, Churcill was a man that just wanted to sleep. God, how long had it been since he had slept?
He leaned back against the chair, closing his eyes and taking the brief moment to go back to times when he was a simple Governor-General of the British Administration in Bengal and Burma. Despite the heat, he would enjoy the trees and the countryside. He enjoyed painting the trees and the beaches while discussing diplomacy with the Indian princes, either talking them into joining the British Empire by gaining their support via filling their pockets with richies or simply showing that the Empire would crush them just as easily as one would crush a fly with a fly swatter. Annoying for a moment, but inveitably killed. The riches he sent back to the home island made him popular, maybe even rivaling the explorer Christopher Colombus. While the Second Great War was occuring, Churcill used the situation to rapidly conquer the rest of the Indian subcontinet, adding another jewel to the Crown while the United American Commonwealth alongside with the Commonwealth of Borealia (which is Canada) expanded westward, eventually bringing the whole of the North America under Imperial rule.
After this, in 1945, the man was invited by Eden to become Foreign Secretary, a position which he accepted. After some political swaying, and Prime Minister Eden's health deteorating, Churcill was approched by the Haig Tories, which was the faction which supported Prime Minister Douglas Haig until his heart attack, and untimely demise, in 1933 at the beginning of the Automation Crisis when the EIEC essentially mechanized their production lines and automated it, firing every factory worker and jumpstarting an unemployment crisis. They also did this with the mining workers in the UAC. It was an economic crisis not seen before the 1925 London Stock Market Crash. He, being a firm believer in Victorianism and the greatness of the British Empire, accepted the backing and found himself nominated, before Eden offered Her Majesty his resignation letter. The rest, as they say, is history.
A knocking on the door was heard, as Churchill snapped his eyes open, and turned his head. A bureaucrat was standing there as he was holding a file from the Ministry of Defence.
Churchill adjusted himself instantly. "Hand it over, then." he says as he extends his hand. The bureaucrat does so.
As soon as the Prime Minister opened that file, his eye widened as he stared at the content. A machine capable of bending reality itself? How was this possible? His eyes widened further as he looked at Operation Glorious Showdown.
The prime minister closed the file, grabbed his cane and began to stumble out of the room. "Prepare a transport for Buckingham Palace immediately!" he shouted.
He needed to get to the Queen fast before those intercontinental balistic missiles were dropped.
01:05 Hours
Buckingham Palace
Indifference.
That was what Her Royal Majesty, Victoria, felt at the moment. What else could she feel other than indifference? She had seen her children die, her grandchildren, and even outlived Prince George V, and Prince George VI. She didn't see her grandson, Prince Edward VIII, for 20 years, having shipped him off to the UAC to act as Governor-General, albiet he was being recalled back to the home island. She didn't care how many died anymore. She knew that all of her children and grandchildren would never bear the crown for as long as she lived. She felt so many things, she didn't care anymore about anyone! She didn't...
As one could imagine, the Queen is depressed. Her immortality, a miracle back then, was now a curse as she outlived all of her children and grandchildren one by one. She lived in a gilded cage, the Crown forcing her to be the indifferent one she is.
She grabbed a cup of tear as she sipped it. She was waiting for the damned Russians to dump one of their nukes onto London and put her out of her misery. She should have listened to her husband, and refused the treatment back all those years ago. What made her condem herself to such a fate, she had no idea. Fear of death? Fear of the unkown? She didn't know. And she didn't care anymore. It was in the past.
The gates of Buckingham Palace opened as a convoy entered the palace. Afterwards, a butler came over as he clicked his heels and bowed his head before looking at the Queen. "Your Majesty, the Prime Minister has requested to see you for an early audience. "
Victoria sighed, finishing her cup before getting up. She dusted off her long dress, before she crossed her hands, firmly placed on the stomach area. "Very well." she said as she walked out of the room.
What does the Prime Minister wish to discuss with her now?
1:15 Hours
Audience Room
As soon as the Queen entered the audience room, Winston Churcill smiled at her Majesty, before he grabbed her extended hand and kissed it. "Your Majesty."
"Prime Minister." repeated Victoria as she lowered her arm, and brought her hand back to the other hand. She then gracefully sat down on the chair, as she let her hands on her dress, approximately on her right leg. "You wished to see me?"
"Indeed, Majesty. There's been a.." Winston cleared his throat, unsure how to explain this. "..development made by the EIEC and the Ministry of Defence."
Victoria stared at Churcill, stone-faced. What have those madmen in busniess suits done now? "A development?" she asked her interest.
"Yes, the engineers at the Company have been experimenting on reality itself. I am not sure how to really explain this. " he says as before he extends the dossier. "This should explain things, I do suppose."
She extended her arm, as she grabbed the file and looked into it. There were times that she allowed unpolished thoughts into her head at moments of extraordinary circumstances. This was one of these times. What the bloody hell? She immediately raised her head to the Prime Minister, her stone-face raising an eyebrow.
"That was my reaction too." commented the Prime Minister, knowing full well that this would be one of the only times he would see the monarch break her stone faced demenour.
"Has this been verified?" asked the Queen as she flipped through the pages.
"I have spoken with EIEC representatives on the telephone and they have verified the information, yes." was the answer she got. "Your Majesty, may I speak freely?"
Victoria raised her head to face the standing Churchill, holding his cane. She nodded, looking at him directly in the eye.
"As the document says, Majesty, the Russians have been extensively using nuclear artilery, and there are reports of them beginning to use the M.A.D launchers. Our allies are also crumbling before our very eyes, Majesty. If we are to save what is left of mankind, we are to use these machines. The EIEC has already said that if Operation Glorious Showdown occurs, they will also give this technology to our allies for them to also join us in the other world. If we are to save Britannia and, indeed, mankind as a whole, we must activate these machines!" He clamped his mouth shut, as he nervously moved his other hand on the crane, realizing he spoke too loudly before the Queen.
Victoria, however, did not care much for the Prime Minister's loud tone. She sighed as she looked down at the paper once again. After a few percious minutes further of internal deliberation, she looked up at the Prime Minister, the same indifferent face. She nodded before she gave the order that would forever change the course of history, and, indeed, all of mankind. "Do as you will, Prime Minister. "
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
6th of January, 1962
01:35
London
Charing Cross Station
Another train arrived from Bristol, filled with civilians and military personnel as part of the evacuation. There were women and children, eldery, injured and other people. These people had left behind their home and lives behind to be within the safety of London's embrace. Sadly, that wasn't the focus at the current moment.
After a twist of the lever, and pulling the heavy car side-door by its' handle to the side, the light peeked into the car and showed the Reality Manipulation Machine's parts, alongside a crate that had "WARNING! MINI-BLACK HOLE CORE CONTAINED INSDIE. HOLD WITH CAUTION" on it. And too much caution tape all over it. Of course they would use bloody black holes.
Bennet's power armor hissed slightly as he leaned forward, peeking his head inside the train car. It was dark inside. He looked down at his arm, pushing a button with his metalic hand as it activated his helmet's night vision, before he raised his head and moved it right. More metal parts and more wire than the man found comfortable.
"Right." he says in a bored tone, his helmet's voice modulator making his voice sound static. He leaned out of the car's door frame, and slowly turned around, making sure that his heavy metalic boots did not hit the concrete, lest he had to pay a fine (which would most likely be deducted from his pay). He then faced the three other men in approximately 2 meter tall power armor. Bennet turns his head at the engineers, looking down. "Where does this mess need to go?"
The engineer raised his clipboard from his side, looking at it as he flipped through pages. Bennet just stared at him. Would you please hurry up before this armor decides to turn into a rusted tin can, you glorified abacus fondler?
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity and approximately 57 pages flipped (yes, he counted out of bordem), the young engineer decided to tell the wet walking tin-can in question, "It says here to put it at the A10 street, sir."
"Very well then." He turned his head back to the three men infront of him, as he moved his left leg, carefully putting his metal boot on the concrete, before he got out of the way. "Right, lads, pick them up." Bennet said as he did a right face, and walked off the platform and went into the driver's seat of a very large, specially made, truck.
The three hardsuit wearers nodded, as the one in the middle went first, stopping just infront of the car's frame, before he leaned forward and began to pick up a part, handing it to the one behind him, who handed it to the third guy who simply dumped it into the truck. There were instances where the second dude in the middle had more than a handful of parts on him. This repitition went on for 10 minutes.
Then came to pick up the final part: the mini black hole core. It was a crate made of pure tungsten with steel on it also. It was also incredibly heavy. The three men looked at each other, before they decided to do what they knew best: brute force And it was an incredibly poor decision as the men had to put all of their strenght on essentially picking it up together, while also not tripping over as they struggled to carry the containment box to the car. It took them another 10 minutes.
After the tired men crawled themselves into the truck, adding even more weight on the poor truck. Luckly, the truck was made to carry 10 heavy infantry personnel, so it was still capable of running and driving. It just moved an extremely eye-gouging slow pace.
God, end my misery.
02:05 Hours
Ministry of Defence Main Building
Logistics Management Office
The MOD Main Building is said to have one of the largest armory in the entire world, and one of the most guarded buildings in all of London. Only behind Downing Street and Buckingham Palace. Now, it was going to be filled until the armory reached critical maximum capacity.
While it had plentiful of firearms and amunition, that was only about 10% of it filled. No, they were going to shove as many weapons into that armory as humanly possible, to save them to be copied for the new world, and of course, using them on any unfortunate alien that decided to make the unwise decision of going to war against mankind.
There was a little bit of everything. Samples of each kind of the chemical within Imperial Britain's arsenal, from the hallucinogens, which included all kinds of deliciously evil additions into them. About 30 of them are kept in containment and they were transported under armed guard, with men in full-blown gas gear. And then, of course, there are those from the Pulomnary Agent branches. These gasses, well you get them in your lungs, and you will quite literally be choking on your own blood inside out, and these things also have caustic inhalation, so say good bye to dying peacefully!
What is next on this list? Ah yes, respiratory gases that causes artificially induced paranoia! Lovely stuff indeed. Oh, and also, if you feel as if your lungs are on fire, that's because they quite literally may be burning from the added Pseudo-Incendiary compounds within them!
After all of those were included within the chemical warefare section, let's get to some of the biological warefare items on this list. Let's see here, what do we have in here? Ah yes, would some genetically engineered influenza be right up your alley? No? Then would you like to see our stockpile of Botulinum toxins? Or perhaps smallpox? I am sure those aliens will not be having nightmares about us for days! And hey, if the world we land in has animals in them, we also have anthrax to deal with them!
Oh, what's that snarling and ratling noise you hear? That's just the livewire trying to get to our voice. Don't worry, it does that. What's livewire? Oh, you know, snake-like semi-sentient living wire that also has minic abilities to catch their prey!
You ask what is that animalistic shreeking? Oh, ignore them, they are simply the comatagtes which are basically man-made abominations of nature that has enough drugs shoved into them to go on a full rampage for about 14 hours at most before the seizure and organ failure gets to them!
Oh, what's this room that says "stimulants"? Those are the government-sanctioned stimulats and other therapies that are avaliable to the soldiers.
And last but not least, my favorite! The Materiosynthetics Lab!
Any questions?
No?
Lovely then, have a lovely day!
02:25 Hours
A10 intersection
This ride was pure torture for Captain Bennet as he continously was tortured by his inferior's constant on-mic singing and they were continously singing shitty songs in such ugly tones that if Her Majesty heard their singing, they would have got shot on the spot for treason against the Crown. He swore those voices could, at the very least, make someone's hearing implode. And he had spent time in the Second Iberian Campagin. He had dealt with a livewire that was forgotten. But he could swear his comrades on paper were torturing him with their patriotic singing.
The car's rumbling was still going slow, as Bennet eyed the speed meter. The arm was not even touching 20 kilometers per hour. Bennet simply used this moment to inhale and exhale, his eyes focusing on the dark-shaded road, only about 3 meters illuminated by the truck's light, as he went back in time.
His mind took him down the memory lane, as he remembered the day Paris burned for a second time in a century.
Bennet was at the entrance of Paris, as he walked down the street, behind him a regiment's worth of men, next to him were three tripods, their legs hitting the streets slowly, firing the occasional machine-gun fire out of its' turrent in the distance. Bennet had been a private back then, and amongst the first people in a Hardsuit, which made him effectively as strong as the knights of old. Back then, shellguns didn't exist. So he would have to fight with the only way a heavy infantryman could: with brute force.
The smog-like gas was heavy, as he could hear his own breathing from the slightly enlarged gas mask. The city had been gassed 3 times with mustard gas and bombed with incedinary bombs, making the smog worse from all the smoke. The city was still burning.
Bennet suddenly heard a dush coming from infront of him, before the tripod's head next to him suddenly exploded, having been hit by anti-tank. Seeing no other option, Bennet decided to run forward, as bullets began to hit his armor, some of them making dents on his armor, and some even hit him but the stimulants that he was given did not mix well with thethese Frenchmen did not have a license for living.
He hurled himself onto a trench, his massive weight already having crushed a frenchmann, as he looked to his left, and grabbed a rifle out of another frenchman's hands, before hitting the soldier's body with it, before he casted his fist onto them, sending the man back in a bloody spiral, as the shattered body hit other soldiers. He then turned around, and began to walk down the trench, as more bullets hit his armor, and body both. He grabbed one frenchman, before putting his other hand on the other one, before the soldier got torn in half and dumped on the ground. Bennet kept walking.
"Sir?" Sir!
His thougths gets interrupted as the engineer in the passenger seat started to try and shake him. "What?" Bennet asked as he turned his head, slowing the truck down even further until it could be considered baely driving. The engineer spoke, "W-We've arrived at the spot, sir."
Bennet did not like people who stuttered. "Fine." He says as he stops the truck, opening the door and getting out. He looked at his left arm again, looking at the time on the panel. It was 0245 hours.
He bangs his formed fist on the side of the truck, as the three lads opened the truck's door and let it fall open, as they began to walk out. Then, Bennet turned around and eyed the engineer. "What now?"
The engineer grabbed out a blueprint, which had diagrams on it. Bennet guessed it was how this thing was supposed to stand.
Two of the heavy infantrymen were already offloading some of the less heavier parts. The third soldier already grabbed two cylinders, before he grabbed one of the bigger ones. He placed his two hands on it, raised it in the air and above his head, and with all his might, imapled the thing into the street.
The other two lads grabbed some claws, which they adjusted themselves to the cylinder perfectly, as they gripped themselves onto the ground further. Then, the three men struggled once again with the crate containing the blackhole. Bennet went ahead to help his comrades, holding onto the crate which might have felt like he was holding all of London onto him. After 3 minutes, they manage to dump the crate into the cylinder, before one of them quickly gets a square-shaped rod, and inserted it into the cylinder. Two others got the hemisphere, and slid it onto the cylinder's top.
The engineer lookekd at a pocket watch, as the four stepped back slowly to the truck. Then, energy began to crackle as a beam of pure, white light shot up into the sky, as it illuminated all of London, followed by other pillars, all of which started to form into a connecting hemisphere, before a transparent, white shield that was most certainly all over the entire city of London.
A few seconds of nothing happening.
And then, the last thing that Captain Bennet saw as his armor hit the truck was white and then darkness. The ambient noise only shattered by the noise of distant nukes burning the world into a crisp.
Glorious Showdown is complete.
Author's Note
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
"There will always be an England."
6th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
05:45 Hours
New Manehattan
National Guard Headquarters
The air within the New Manehattan Garrison's administrative office was filled with ciggarete smoke and the moon's light that was now dimming into the ground.
The only people in that room were a couple of staff officers and the occasional bureaucratic stallion or mare that was given the unfortunate night shift trotting about. All of them were moody and tired. The only one amongst them that wasn't tired was an thestral stallion who was on guarding duty.
The smell of coffee was also evident and the sounds of typewriter clickings, and papers being moved for the ponies that did the dayshift. However, the night shift was a boring one most of the time. Simply endless paperwork and moving folders about.
Captain Red Waters, an unicorn stallion, was in his office as he rubs his eyeballs with his forehooves for the 10th time. He was extremely tired.
His horn was illuminated, holding a pen in its' magical grasp as he looked back down at the paperwork infront of him. It was essentially just numbers and statistics, logistics and supplies and trainings to be held. He sighed as he placed his cheek against his hoof, before he continued to fill out a form. And then another one. Sweet Celestia, when does this end?
The clock's ticking seemed to go on forever, and it was starting to give him a migrane. Mostly due to the fact that it was the only other sound other than trot of hooves and the clickings of typewriters.
After he finally completes the first paper, he sighs, the magic levitating the paper to a pile of completed documents as his grasp moves from the pile to his left to the pile to his right to grab another paper. It was a logistics one. 1,400 new rifles were to arrive in 2 days' time from Equestria as shipment for the 16th Armed Police Regiment. He inhaled, as he silently prayed for something to interrupt this bland cycle.
And Fate would grant his wish.
Suddenly, the door infront of him opened, as a mare that looked exhausted and miserable in that staff outfit. She simply levitated an envelope that had "URGENT" on it, onto the Captain's desk and without a word left the room.
Red Waters stared at the envelope for a brief second, before he levitated the envelope, opened it and then pulled out white partchment. This better not be another incide-
His thoughts were interrupted by what he read. The partchment detailed reports of encounters of several robot and robot-like people, alongside an alien species. They spoke perfect Equestrian somehow and, when they were asked by some braver police, they told some very disturbing stories. Also, a city was discovered in a location 50km away from the Aquilian border, that wasn't there before.
The office of the mayor had requested that the New Manehattan National Guard check it out. Red Waters now wondered why he had tempted fate.
He fliped the envelope upside down, which had pictures in it. All of the pictures showed either bipedal ape-like creatures holding what looked like submachineguns, but longer. Some of them contained robots that looked something out of a science fiction tales he had read when he was a child, not reality. Alongside some bipedal beings in armor. Each picture looked more disturbing and frightful than the last. Someone ought to remind him to REALLY not tempt fate next time.
He rubbed his eyeballs again, before he slid down off the chair onto his hooves before he trotted out of the office. His next destination being the barracks.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to wake up the ponies and get them to come with him to investigate.
06:30 Hours
2km away from London
Major Edmud Blackadder sat down on a crate as he simply read the latest, rather short, issue of the glorified toilet paper called "Queen and Country". It was only one page, go figure, which basically just showcased the english tommy getting out of a door, inside said door being explosions and fires, while the briton said "This reality is uncivilized for my liking!" while showing in the background the other countries were potrayed as wild animals fighting each other to the death while the civilized briton was holding a briefcase with "COLONY PEOPLES" written on it.
In Blackadder's opinion, it was a waste of artistic talent as by the end of the day, these things would all be used.
All around Blackadder was a whirlwind of movement, with the quadropod automech's legs stomping on the ground, dragging heavier parts, while the duopods were moving about into their respective positions to form a wall of iron surrounding the city of London, their machineguns aiming into the distance, alongside several other tanks and IFVs. Sandbags could be seen as far as the eye could see, with several minor gaps to allow reconnissance units access. Hardsuit personnel were patroling the areas around the flanks while helicopters would come from the city and out of it for resupply.
Approximately 853,000 bodies were put to the circle of defense against any potential alien that dared to trespass upon the ancient city of London.
Blackadder sighed, grabbing the cup of tea, moving it to his lips as he sipped it. He placed it back down on the coup and continued to put down his bordem but simply looking at the painted partchment.
Then, Sergeant Baldrick came over with a pair of binoculars. "Sir! I saw something!"
"Unfortunately not, sir. But I did see a very tiny blimp of white coming towards us sir!" Baldrick replied. Blackadder lowered his head to look at the Sergeant's hands. "Baldrick, are you sure it is not because your eyes are straining due to the fact that you are using the binoculars the wrong way?" he looked back up at Baldrick's face.
"I.." Baldrick began before he looked back down at his hands, before looking back at the Major. "..I know what I saw, sir! It was very small, sir!"
Blackadder, deciding to entertain Baldrick's possible delusions, looked up from the magazine, following Baldrick's pointed finger and ready to confirm Baldrick's stupidity once again. But alas, it wasn't to be. Blackadder immediately also saw the blip that was coming towards them. He gets up, grabs the binoculars out of Baldrick's hands, and putting them to his eyes to recognize that those were older-looking trucks in the distance.
After blinking for a moment, and staring at the incoming convoy that was already showing several other trucks driving over, he lowered the binoculars. "Well, it seems we have company. " he mutters before he shoves the binoculars to Baldrick. He afterwards grabbed a controller, pushing the button to activate the alarms on the intercoms behind him as the wail of the alarms began to burst through, alerting every single soldier in the defensive perimeters. Blackadder then brought a microphone to his mouth, shouting upon them one order over and over: " BATTLE STATIONS! "
Damn it. The aliens noticed us.
Those were the thoughts of Captain Red Waters as the three trucks full of armed ponies were driving towards the unkown city infront of them. The wails of the alien intercoms were loudly clear that they had been noticed. Red Waters looked at the ponies in his truck, all of them exhausted from being awaken in the middle of their sleep, but they were attentive. He leaned down, as he asked "Who here has a white cloth?"
The lot of them looked at each other, before they looked at the medic in the truck. The mare was asleep, still tired and clearly not in a shape for this kind of expedition as the rifle in her hoof was slooping down. The stallion next to her gave a light kick in the hind leg, as she bluttered awake.
"W-Wha- What?" she muttered out as she looked around the truck, noticing eyes on her before she looked at the captain, her eyes asking what he desires from her.
"A white cloth, do you have it?" he repeated his request. The medical mare blinked before she frowned, clearly unhappy that she had been awaken for something as simple as a cloth. She pulled her medical bag, and held it open with her hooves. Red Waters nodded before he levitated the cloth out of her hooves and next to him. Good timing too, as a small blurt was heard from the distance, before a firey explosion hit the grassland that was next to the dirt-road. The explosion came afterwards, and the smoke cleared, the destroyed area was approximately 2.5 meters wide on all sides.
Then, they saw it. 6 metalic beasts, all bipedal, holding what looked like artilery pieces in their..claws? or whatever those were. The immediate concern was the fact that those things were aiming that artilery at them. The convoy stopped immediately, as whatever exhaustion in that truck was eliminated by a stream of adrenline. Some of the ponies immediately began to aim their rifles at the metal beasts that had surrounded them. But the size of the barrels in the beast's clawed hooves made even the bravest of the stallions shiver with fear as they, by now as quickly as their superior officer had, recognized that an attack from these things would mean the death of them all in an instant. So, they kept aiming but did not fire, and try as they might, they could not stop the fear that was now lurking into them. None of them dared to move, not even Captain Red Waves.
After a nerve-recking few minutes, one of the beings, the one in the center of the half-ring of the metal soldiers, spoke in a low-rumbling mechanical voice. "Identify yourself. "
"Identify yourself." ordered Captain Bennet, as he held his shellgun high. He had fired the shell as a warning, which had promptly done its' job and stopped the alien convoy that had armed ponies. One of the hardsuit soldiers muttered through the internal radio, "are these ponies wearing bloody british outfit?"
This pointed-out fact was noticed by the other soldiers as well. These ponies seemed to have largely outdated by imperial standards, at the best what they had would be counted as First Great War technology. The fact that there were also ponies that were smaller in size, such as those with wings. And some had horns, like the mythical stories of the old world. Those stories, it seemed, would no longer be fiction, but very much reality.
Silence filled the air, none of the animals daring to speak up. No matter, Bennet was simply waiting for something else to arrive. The air was suddenly filled with the sounds of rotor blades slicing the air, as an attack helicopter and a utility helicopter circled the convoy, before they filled the air gaps, the attack helicopter hovering infront of the convoy, while the utility helicopter hovering behind it, at the side, of it, the men aboard it already aiming the machine guns and assault rifles from the sides of the helicopters.
Even the ponies could see it: one wrong move and they wouldn't have time to regret their decisions. Not even the pegasi would be capable of flying away lest the minigun of the attack helicopter shredding its' wings with ease. Whatever bravery the ponies had was now snuffed out, paving the way for greater amounts of fear.
It seemed the Ministry of Defence's insistant ordering of saving as many of Britain's arsenal was paying off.
Bennet repeated his order: "Identify yourself."
Silence, except for the sounds of the rotor blades, swept the land. The alarm had long been silenced.
Red Waters had never felt such fear. It was a primal fear of the unkown. He didn't know what he was dealing with here. These things that looked like minotaur-looking beings that were taller than anything he had ever seen. The entire convoy was paralyzed with fear.
Bennet was getting impatient. "This is your last warning. Identify yourself." he said as he raised his shellgun up. The other 5 men did so as well, aiming their shellguns at the convoy, ready to unleash hell upon them and send them to their maker.
Red Waters noticed this, blinking immediately before he quickly looked around for the cloth, levitating it up and waving it. "Wait, don't shoot!" he blurted out.
"You speak English, that's good. " Bennet muttered. "Who are you?"
English? What the hay is Eng- No, focus! Red Waters immediately replied with a fast-paced "Iamcaptainredwaterspleasedontkillme!".
Bennet didn't hear, and quite frankly, he didn't see the need for the helicopters. The rotor blades were loud. He looked at them, and gestured for them to go away.
The radio beamed. "Unit leader has control of situation. Return to base." as the two helicopters flew away, leaving them in silence. Good riddance.
"Repeat what you said." Bennet said as he looked back at the red unicorn.
"U-uh..I am Captain Red Waters of the New Manehattanite National Guard. " Red Waters got slightly calmer, seeing those flying things go away. "If you don't mind me asking, what a-are you?"
Bennet, seeing these ponies were of no trouble to them, lowered his shellgun. "A human." he merely said. "Well.." he said as he looked down at himself. "..an enhanced human, that is."
Red Waters was now confused. Hiuman? "Hiuman?" he asked.
Again, Red Waters was confused, not understanding what this..'human' meant by 'british'. "I don't know what you mean by breetish."
Bennet sighed internally. They would learn later. Bennet spoke again. "British is the nationality I am. I hail from the United Kingdom of Imperial Britain and Ireland." He shrugged. "I do suppose you can tell your superiors to just call us Imperial Britain. I am not sure many irishmen survived. "
"Ok, uh.." Red Waters blinked as he blurted out, trying to proccess the information. "...uh..what's the city there?" He points a hoof at the city infront of him.
Bennet turned around, looking at it for a moment before turning around. "That's London. We managed to escape with it. "
"The reality manipulation machine. " answered Bennet, adding further to Red Waters' confusion. "No, I can't comment on it."
"I- uh.." Red Waters mirrored the heavy confusion of everyone else in the trucks. "..what?"
Bennet chuckled. It was nice to see some honest confusion for once. Bennet shrugged. "Alright, here's what you can tell your superiors. " Bennet offered explanations. " We are mankind, you having met the country that is called Imperial Britain. We escaped our old world after we burned it in nuclear hellfire. We don't want war, so my government is willing to discussions with yours regarding territory. "
"U-Uh..o-o-okay.." Red Waters answered, a little bit relieved that he was given some form of explanation. Evem if that explanation left more questions than answers. "I-I suppose I should go..?"
"You'd better." Bennet muttered, as the rest of the other 5 soldiers lowered their shellguns and started to walk backwards until they made a long side-to-side line with Captain Bennet in the center.
The pony in the driver seat immediately began to drive the convoy backwards and away.
It was a morning that none of them would ever forget. And in that morning, the world would know the insanity of Man.
Author's Note
Apologises for the long updates, my schedueling is a mess due to personal matters at home.
However, do not worry, I won't give up on this story nor let it die.
Many iconic characters from the Equestria at War universe will also pop-up
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
6th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
07:00 Hours
New Mareland, Sunset
The Lodge
The Governor-General of the Commonwealth and his wife were both resting in the Lodge’s bedroom. The sun had just begun to show its’ golden hues and risen across the snow-laden space. The bedroom was filled with pictures of their days in Canterlot, and Jet Set shaking hooves with Princess Celestia herself when he was chosen to lead Equestria’s dominion on Griffonia.
A ringing of the phone on the table next to the bed would interrupt the blissful sleep the couple were having.
Jet Set sighed a groan, before he opened his eyes. The blurry sight was all he saw, but he could make enough to see the telephone’s hoofset vibrating. He sighed, levitating his glasses and putting them on his nose, before looking at the clock on the wall. It was 7 in the morning. Who could have called at this hour?
Jet hears his wife murmuring and shuffling around, so he immediately ignites his horn to secure the hoofset in his magical grasp, levitating it to his ear. “What is it that you couldn’t tell me at the office?” he asks tiredly in a whispered-tone.
“Apologies, Governer-General, but there’s been a situation.” responded the voice on the other side that spoke in a nervous tone.
‘If this ‘situation’ is another bloody quarrel between the UEP, so Celestia help me, I’ll-!” he begins, getting more furiously tired by the second. What the voice on the other side says next stops him in his tracks.
Jet Set blinked, his left-ear twiching as if to question if he heard that correctly. “..what?” was all he could blurted out. Jet Set had many questions in his head, only one came out: “When?”
The voice on the other side gave some form of explanation. “A few hours ago, sir, there have been reports of mysterious domes of light appearing out of nowhere on the islands. They appear advanced, sir. “
“Advanced?” asked Jet Set nervously, no longer caring about the volume of his voice.
“Yes, sir. The aliens have identified themselves as mankind, among other names. One of the respective governments has already sent telegrams wishing for diplomatic discussions. “ continued the other voice. “We are waiting for your orders, sir.”
My orders? Jet Set stared at the wall for a few minutes as his brain proccessed what was just thrown into his ears. The matter of an alien civilization was something out of science fiction books he occasionally read in his spare time. As expected, his brain couldn’t believe this and neither did he. He was prepared to dismiss it as falacy, some bad, albiet seriously-planned out, joke and go back to bed, but the urgency in the voice said otherwise.
He sighed, moving a hoof to rub his eyeballs, and his fatigue, away before saying. “I’m coming to the office, I want an emergency meeting with the cabinet members to be ready when I arrive. Also, who else have you told about this?”
“Nobody else, sir.”
“Good, keep it that way. I, especially, want Royal Pin to be there. Drag him out of his bed if you have to, I want my foreign minister there!” and with that, he slammed the hoofset onto the telephone and got out of bed, trotting fast to the wardrobe, his horn already illuminated to open it as he began to look into it.
Upper Crust, his wife, groaned awake as she couldn’t sleep with all the noise. She pushed a strand of hair away, before leaning against the bedside. “What’s the matter, dear?” she asks.
“I’m busy at the moment, Upper.” Jet says as he begins to dress himself in his usual green outfit before putting on a coat. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but for now, I have to go.” Jet assured, grabbing a comb and combing his dark hair while trotting.
“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” Upper Crust asked, leaning her head to the side to see where he was going. Jet Set was already trotting towards the entryway, as he shouted from down the hallway. “I’ll eat something from the Parliament House!”
The door was shut closed, as Upper Crust sighed. She looked around the empty bedroom before she got up, trotting to the window and opening the blinders.
She hoped her husband would have another good day at work.
07:30 Hours
Imperial Britain, London
Buckingham Palace, Residental Wing
A Household servant walked down the hallway, passing the many magestic paintings that hung within Buckingham Palace. But the servant had already walked down that hallway many times, either for cleaning purposes or for moving tea trays for Her Majesty. His footsteps were fast and controlled, making sure not to pull onto the perfectly placed rug. He pulled out a watch, looking at the time. He placed it back in his pocket, before taking a right. The servant walked with one goal in mind: to wake up the Prince of Wales and escort him to Her Majesty.
The servant stopped infront of the door, straightening his uniform before putting his hands on the handles and pushing the doors open.
“What is it..?” he mutters as he blinks his eyes, trying to push his sleepyness away. He takes a breath, before he cracks his neck side to side. The cybernetics he had ordered onto him were doing their job well. Edward had tried to sleep away another loss within the House of Hanover, the death of Prince Albert Victor. He had died due to nuclear radiation, copious amounts that killed any man in minutes.
“Her Majesty has summoned you to discuss matters with your highness.” the servant uttered. “She has also given me permission to drag your highness out of bed, should it be necessary.”
“Yes, yes, I’m moving!” Edward said loudly, moving out of bed slowly. He gets up, as he looks at the flip phone’s screen, checking the time, before closing it and sliding it into his pocket. “Lead on then.” He says as he unbuckles his suit, showing the white shirt as he follows the servant.
The singular sentence that wondered within his head. What does grandmother desire with me?
07:40 Hours
“What?” was all that Edward could blurt out.
Victoria raised an eyebrow at her great-great-grandson. “Did you not understand what I said?”
“Y-Yes, I did. “ Edward inhaled, keeping his eyes on his rotting grandmother. “You want me to represent Britain and the United Commonwealth whenever the...” he looked at the file he was holding. “..talking ponies desire to have diplomatic discussions with us?”
“Indeed.” Victoria uttered immediately as soon as Edward finished talking. She raised a palm to quiet him from talking further. “Edward, you are no longer a prince playboy number-two as you spent your days with Albert in America when he was governor-general and you an advisor. You are now the Prince of Wales, number one in the eyes of the Crown.” she spoke slowly and deliberate. “And I know of your decision to have yourself implanted with cybernetic enhacements a decade ago, seeing of your smoking capabilities..” she stoped, as she looked at the carpet down, crossing her hands as she seemed tired, almost defeated. “..and there’s another matter.”
“What other matter?” Edward asked, taking clear notice of the sudden weakness that the Queen is displaying. Edward began to get increasingly nervous as he heard the tiredness within Victoria’s voice.
“Regarding my body.” she began.
“W-What about your body?”
“Edward, before I tell you, you ought not to inform a single soul outside this room about this..” she inhaled as she looked at Edward, straight in the eye. “My body is failing.”
The air in the room immediately felt cold. A heavy silence that wooshed into the room like a barging tank. The only sound in the room was the sound of the clock’s arms ticking away the seconds. Rather slowly, indeed. But, it was Edward who did not understand at all. Victoria’s body was supposed to be the embodiment of imperial technological might, she had lived up to the age of 160 and had the longest regin of any monarch in human history. In fact, she was awarded the world record of 100 years upon a throne. The mere fact of death coming for her was improbable to any man or woman in all of humanity.
“B-But, what about the EIEC’s offers?” Edward began to rapidly talk. “The newer enhancements they offered you? Ones that would have replaced the old with newer parts? The ones I saw on your desk, what about them?”
“I have been offered true immortality, yes.” Victoria admited. “Truth be told, I denied all of the offers.”
“Why?”
“Do you know the curse of Servianus? The curse he had placed upon Emperor Hadrian?” she muttered. “I have seen my children die, one by one, while only I remain. Sometimes, against my wishes but onto pressure, have I been forced to get check-ups. You are my great-great-grandchild, Edward. Have you ever seen any parent who had outlived all of her children and grandchildren?” she asked. “The radiation was the final blow. The cybernetics are failing by corrosion. I will live for another decade at worst but the doctors and engineers have said that in one of these days, worsening further after 5 years, I shall close my eyes and fall onto an eternal sleep. Lord knows I kept Him waiting for far too long. But, right now, I have one final duty before I can die without regret. That duty is to ensure you become fit to bear the Crown and not be crushed by it. “ she inhaled slowly. “The Crown has become heavier than anyone could possibly imagine. The one that bears it no longer is human, but a strange perculiar creature. “ she exhales. “Nevertheless, this house has been both blessed and cursed to wear the Imperial State Crown and upon my death, you will be the one to wear it. Even as my children, and my grandchildren both have die off, the laws of succession have not changed. “
Edward blinked at the monolouge that Victoria gave. He was speechless, a loss of words. “Grandmother..” he began but his tounge was cut out. He didn’t know what or how to answer.
“Edward, my dear boy. I have no intention of leaving you unprepared. It is why I have discussed with the physician for daily check-ups and treatments. I do not want to leave this monster that is the Crown onto you and let it devour you whole. When the time comes, the Crown shall test you and it will be up to you if you allow the Crown to control you...” she trails off, licking her lips before she inhales and exhales slowly. “..or for you to control the Crown.” she utters, as she claps her hands before getting up swiftly. “Which is why I have decided this is a good opportunity for you to begin your training.”
Training? What bloody training?!
Victoria saw Edward’s face and opened her mouth again. “I understand that this is rather out of the blue, however this shouldn’t have been completely unexpected.” She said as she turned her head, walking towards the window and watching the Grenadier Guard doing another march. “After all, as the saying goes: ‘nothing lasts forever’ and neither should you have expected that I would have been the monarch of this empire until the end of time. “
“But the people adore you, don’t they? There are some people who are considering you a goddess! “
“Indeed they do, Edward, however, I am tired..” she says as she crosses her arm. “...of living.” She sighs. “Not to worry, I do intend of living a little further to explore this brave new world. “ she says as she turns her head to Edward, showing a smile. Victoria let her arms lose as she walked over to a drawer, pulling it open before she grabbed a pack of cigarettes. She opened the pack, grabbed one out and placed it on her lips. She grabs a lighter, lit it up and moved the flame at the front of the cigarette before closing the lighter. Victoria inhaled, and exhaled a puff of smoke, the cigarette in between her fingers. “Of course, you’ll get to see sides of me that I only show to an heir. Sides that are strictly guarded and considered words of treason outside the room. “ She chuckles, watching Edward’s face. “George had that face as well.”
Edward stared at this alien figure infront of him. This was not the perfect, indifferent and stone-faced figure he had known for so long of his life. This figure, this female creature, was a broken woman who longed for the embrace of death. Dare he say, a sad, pathetic figure. This figure who had witnessed the death of her offsprings, her children’s children. None could ever have felt the despair that Her Majesty felt through the years, an endless figure who had witnessed blood shed in three Great Wars, blood shed in rebellion and treason and of course, blood in the House. Lord knows how much she cried when Germany fell in 1939 and the Hamburg Evacuation occured. Not to mention the Defense of the Home Islands, which was successful yes but at great cost pushing the French when they neared London.
He watched as she took another puff, before she tapped on it. Edward was snapped out of his thoughts by a singular word out of the mouth of his great-great grandmother. “Well?”
Edward looked at her for one final time, before he got up on his feet, bowed his head and said: “I accept this privilege..” he inhaled and exhaled.
“..and burden.”
08:25 Hours
New Mareland, Sunset
Parliament House, Executive Wing
Cabinet Room
Jet Set levitated his glasses off, rubbing a hoof against them before he placed them on again, staring at the pictures taken of the aliens’ cities from the distance, and their soldiers.
“And you are telling me, Royal, that these..” he stopped as he levitated the diplomatic letter to his face. “..humans, as they call themselves, have made contact with our telegraphs?”
Royal Pin’s yellow-eyes looked at the Governor-General as he nodded. “Indeed, Governor-General. The country that have been pressing the Foreign Ministry has gone under the identity of..” he levitates the paper. “..the United Kingdom of Imperial Britain and Ireland. They have also insisted on speaking for a dominion of theirs, which identifies with the city to the island to our west, the United Commonwealth of America. “ he extended the letter to Jet, who in turn levitated the letter to him.
“ ‘With the blessings of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria...’ “ he mubbled through the letter, before he folded it and placed it down. “They wish to send a royalty, and the appearnt Governor-General of this ‘America’. A prince of something called ‘Wales’.” Jet Set said, before he looked at the cabinet. “So then..” he popped his lips, connecting his hooves together. “..what are our options?”
Neon Lights, the Internal Minister, raised a hoof. “We could accept the request and see what they have to say. “
Sour Sweet, the Defense Minister, chuckled as she leaned back. “Or we could militarize and crush them! I mean, they have technology that is just ripe for the taking if the reports have anything to say about it. They told us they are in desperate need of food, and are tramutized by some war they fought. These talking apes would be welcoming us!”
“N-Now, let’s not consider military options just yet! They haven’t provoked us and we don’t know the full capabilities of their strenght. For all we know, we could be walking into a trap.” said Neon Lights
“Oh come on, my reports indicate that these people look demoralized. If anything, it will be an easy victory of simply marching in with food and they shall lay down their arms.” insisted Sourt Sweet.
Jet Set frowned. “I would prefer, in the interests of Harmony, that we choose a diplomatic approch. “ he says as he lays stern eyes on Sour Sweet. “When can we have the prince they are sending us?”
“We can announce to the public that contact has happened, diplomatic discussions with their government will occur and we can begin tomorrow morning for their prince to arrive in Sunset, and have discussions with the cabinet. Then..” Royal Pin exhaled a fresh boust of air.”...we shall see how it goes.”
“And if it doesn’t go smoothly?” asked Sour Sweet, raising a cheeky grin and an eyebrow.
“You get free hooves over this situation.” Jet Set says, still staring at her.
~~You would lose.~~
7th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
06:55 Hours
New Mareland, Sunset
Sunset Military Airfield
The only occasions when there were many people crowding any station of transport was when a princess arrived in New Mareland for a visit. However, ever since the government had announced that contact had been established with aliens and that they were arriving in Sunset for diplomatic discussions, nopony could miss the chance to see a new species, especially not after it was discovered that there were also aliens on Equus with similar characteristics. And most assuringly, the news outlets would not miss up the opportunity to take pictures of them.
It was so bad that the National Guard had to be called to contain the crowd that was forming. Luckly, Jet Set and his cabinet arrived at the airfield when the crowd was small, but there were newsponies who camped the night there just so they could get in first to set up their equipment.
However, all it took was one hoof to point out 5 planes in the skies, one of them having a different design than the rest but all of them definetly looked advanced. They flew in perfect box formation, the 4 planes at equal distance to surround the bigger plane, which is where Jet Set assumed was the prince sent to them. But the crowd began to enter into a frenzy, and the pictures were beginning to be taken. The flashes were utterly blinding. One thing that was noticeable was the fact that they had no aircraft propellers on them. One couldn’t help but wonder how did they get those massive planes moving?
The bigger plane landed first, before it was followed by the other 4 sleeker planes. The bigger plane had a flag painted onto its’ tail, which Jet rightfully assumed was their national flag. After 5 minutes of waiting, and the planes taxing to rather comfortable distance (despite how loud they were and the wind that blew in their faces), two ground crew ponies pushed the biggest staircase they could find because the height of that thing was nearly similar to an airship.
The door slid open, as a pale-ivory colored minotaur-like being, that they identified themselves as human, came out first. His outfit was rather simplistic. A coat. Jet Set couldn’t help but blink at that, as he had expected something more extravagant out of them. To each their own, I suppose. he thought as he watched several other people dressed in black suits trailing the prince. The prince then walked down the red carpet set up, before he slowed them, waved at the crowd for a few moments, before he turned his head to the cabinet members, more specifically at Jet Set.
This is where Jet Set noticed something odd on the prince’s face. A touch of metalic finess was onto him. The eyes also didn’t appear quite right. It wasn’t that they didn’t move correctly, it was the fact that one of them appeared less flesh and more false. Jet Set thought it was simply the sun and the shade.
“Good morning, your highness.” Jet Set said as he bowed his head slightly, before looking up. “Uh- I welcome you to Sunset!” he said as he didn’t know how british customs functioned. Jet Set nervously extended his hoof. “I look forward to having discussions with you regarding your nation.”
What grasped his hoof wasn’t flesh. Jet Set felt plastic. “As do I.” answered the human prince, a smile plastered upon his face. Jet Set grined nervously, gulping as he looked into the eyes of the Prince, who moved along to other members of his cabinet.
Sweet Celestia, what am I dealing with here?
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
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.
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.
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.
“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! 🙂
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
7th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
03:30 Hours
Severyanian Soviet Socialist Republic, Stalliongrad
General Staff Building
Snow was falling from the darkened skies on the lit streets of Stalliongrad. The nihilistic designed revolutionary city had always seen the coldest winters in central Equus, only contested by the Crystal City. For most of the night, it was relatively peaceful and calm besides the small blizzard. However, tonight, that peace was about to be shattered in the most horrifying form possible.
General Alexia Goldgear was trotting down the hallway, her saddle nested firmly on her, filled with highly classified documents and such. Due to her being a thesteral, she was always on the night shift alongside the other poor sods that were on the night shift. Either way, Alexia was in a good mood. After all, New Years was just a few days ago and the entire Red Army was in high morale with cheers and some vodka. After walking for a few minutes further, being saluted by further staff officers on the way in the concrete and wood bland hallway filled with communist symbols and potraits of both Steel Stallion and Altidiya Revoltsova both.
She reached her office, trotting inside the waiting room in which had her personal secretary, Rusted Gear, typing away at the typewriter.
“Good night, comrade Rusted!” Alexia beamed with a small smile.
“Good night, Comrade General!” Rusted Gear stood up and gave a quick salute upon hearing the general’s greeting.
“Everything going well this night?” asked Alexia, pushing up her glasses with her hoof before making eye contact with the stallion.
“Indeed, although I could use more coffee.”
“Really now?” replied Alexia, giving a slight grin. “Well, sadly, since you used up all of your coffee rations and vodka to make that mixture a few weeks ago, I don’t think the Stavka will give you any more. They still think you are hooked up on that thing.”
“Perhaps, but it may be wearing off.”
Alexia shrugged. “Either way, everything is in order, yes?”
Rusted nodded.
“Very good.” Alexia returned the nod. “Well, I should get into my off-.”
They were interrupted by an earthpony telegraph operator entering into the waiting room. “Comrade General! Comrade Gene- huff huff ..” gasped the operator in which he took a moment that they did not have to take his breath, before he looked at the general. “Comrade General, there’s a phone call from the frontlines. They say it is urgent.”
Frontlines? Did Equestria invade?!
Alexia’s eyes widened behind the glasses as she furrowed her eyebrows as she decided to speak out her thoughts. “What frontlines?” she asked, worried.
“The frontlines from Petershoof!”
Petershoof?!
Petershoof was a vital port city and Severyana’s only gateway to the outside world. It was pratically the second largest economic center within all of Stalliongrad behind, well, Stalliongrad. So, it wasn’t much of a suprise that the Equestrians would have attacked the city first, but it was extremly alarming. “Lead me there.”
After the three ponies ran down to the communications office, which was a mess and in a mass frenzy, the earthpony grabbed the phone hoofset and extended it to Alexia which she grabbed with her wing, or at least made an attempt to before moving it to her ear.
”THEY ARE COMING! WE HAVE TO EVACUATE! OH.. OH SWEET CELESTIA, WHAT IS THAT?!” was the scream of fear that was coming from the other side. It was a bad sign if they were pleading to the Princess.
“H-Hold on, what is happening? What’s going on there?” Alexia asked after putting the phone back on her ear.
”PLEASE, AT LEAST SEND REINFORCEME-... oh...OH..OH BUCK! GAS! GAS! EVERYPONY EVACUATE NOW!” before a shattering cry of fear, a neigh and then a chocking sound. “H-..help...!” before a distant scream of pain. ”GAH! GET IT OFF! THE WIRE’S ON ME! GET IT O--.” before a sound of what was sounded like blood-curling scream and chocking at the same time. Then the line went dead.
Alexia stood there silent for a moment, her brain replaying the message over and over again. It didn’t make sense. This wasn’t Equestria. They wouldn’t cause.. whatever in Tarturus was happening there.
Stars above.. what’s going on there?!
10:15 Hours
Princessdom of Equestria, Canterlot
Canterlot Castle
The sun was shining below upon the snow-ladden Heart of Equestria itself. Everypony was moving around the city in peace, fillies running around and playing with the snow, restaurants and cafés serving the latest sweets and food, so forth. The shining lights of the tree decorated in the center of the city.
However, the papers were making profits today as the news got from New Mareland about a new alien and exotic new nation! And they were especially more newspapers regarding the nation on Equestrian soil on the Poninsula. And a small situation that was occuring on the Equestrian-Stalliongradian border, rumors were popping up about the reason as to why there many ponies crossing the border into Equestria to why the Stalliongradians closed their borders and declared an emergency.
Either way, the stories about the nations of “Imperial Britain” and the “United Kingdoms of Germany” to which the latter had recieved interest from the Griffonian Empire itself the instant the Empire discovered about its’ existance. However, that is a chapter for another time.
For now, we head into the Canterlot Castle..
..please do ignore the room full of telegraph operators that are dealing with the situation with New Mareland giving territory to two foreign nations without proper authority from the Foreign Ministry or any of the Princesses of Equestria.
Instead, let’s go to the Throne Room.
Princess Luna can be seen on the throne next to her sister, albiet with a blanket wrapped around her and Luna was shaking violently. As one could imagine, Luna had seen the dreams, or rather vivid nightmares, of one poor German soldier who was on the Eastern Front. As one could imagine, they were beyond what even Luna could handle. Perhaps even more than anything that Nightmare Moon could ever hope to create.
“Calm down, sister, I am sure it wasn’t that bad...?” asked Celestia, as she had her hoof wrapped around her sister, trying to calm her sister who had pinpricks and had vomitted several times after escaping the dream realm rather too quickly at 4 AM. And had awaken her sister from all the vomit that Luna had spilled. At Celestia’s question, Luna was simply wheezing and breathing heavily as she was whimpering loudly.
Undoubtedly, what Luna had seen would traumatized any other pony, or creature for that mattter, when she had barely proccessed the sheer horrors that were in those dreams. The endless artilery firing even after the soldiers were fighting hand-to-hand combat, the shells filled with gas and viruses, the mud, the disease and, finally, the firing of the MAD launchers which resulted in nuclear explosions becoming a regular sight upon the Eastern Front. Effectively, it had resulted in even her alter-ego refusing to talk.
Either way, Celestia wasn’t in the throne room just to make attempts at comforting her sister, but rather she was also here waiting for someone which she had summoned. The double doors sung open as Royal Guards pushed it open, making way for the Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle, and her trusted and most loyal assistant, Spike. “Your Highness, I came as soon as I got the lette-..” she trailed off after seeing the state of the dark-blue alicorn that was next to Celestia. Obviously worried and confused at the same time, she raised a hoof and pointed in Luna’s general direction. “Has something happened..?”
Celestia could only turn her neck and look back at her sister, who was now sucking on her own hair, before looking back at her prized pupil. “I am not sure..” she spoke in her usual soft tone, with a twinge of confusion mixed within it. “..when she came out of the dream realm, she promptly vomitted all over the floor, before screaming bloody-murder for a few seconds when she stared into my mirror. She’s been like this since morning.”
“I-..” Twilight frowned as she looked at the Princess of the Night. She had never seen Luna so broken and so afraid, let alone so tramutized. “..how can I help?” she asked.
“Do not worry, Twilight, I already have called all of Equestria’s best and brightest physicians and psychologists to see to her. “ Celestia raises a hoof, before her horn illuminated. “However, this is not why I called you here.” she uttered as she levitated a map and a stick.
Twilight tilted her head, confused and intrigued.
“I have called you here to gather what you can of your friends and go to the poninsula on a..” Celestia cleared her throat. “..diplomatic mission of sorts.”
Now Twilight Sparkle was truly captured by interest. “I read the newspapers, does it have something to do with those new nations in New Mareland?”
“No, no. “ Celestia shook her head. “Although that would be appreciated if you would find the time.” she said with a small smile before she pointed at the map with the stick. “However, we have a nation that is on Equestrian soil. “
“On Equestrian soil?” Twilight repeated.
“Indeed. The local police forces and the garrisons have made contact with a nation that speaks Herzlander and seems to have advanced technology. Seemingly the same as those of Britain.“ she teleports a file from her quarters, holding it in her magical grasp and levitated it towards the purple alicorn. “They have made several attempts at contact, thinking we were this ‘Imperial Britain’ at first before the newspapers came up. ” Celestia said. “Now, they have kept their diplomatic lines open and they asked for a diplomatic envoy to be sent to a city they call Frankfurt with several promises made by their Kaiserin herself. They wish to discuss territory. I have already told them I will be sending one of my own.”
Twilight Sparkle held the file and opened it. The pictures inside were interesting as it shown furless minotuar-like beings without the horns and features in uniform. The telegraphs and radio transcripts that they had made called them the ‘United Kingdoms of Germany’. “ I see. I assume that you want me to go there and talk to them?”
Celestia simply nodded. “You have also been made as plentipotentiary of Equestria and, of course, I wish for you to get a peaceful agreement from the Germans.”
“Alright then.” Twilight said as she closed the file and moved it to Spike, as he flew at it and grabbed it. “I won’t let you down, princess!” she exclaimed in her usual determinated tone, nodding before turning around. “Spike, start writing letters to the rest of the girls, please.” followed by an “On it!” as the two made their way outside.
Celestia sighed before she looked at her principal secretary, Raven Inkwell. “Now then, could you please repeat what you said about the Griffish isles?”
12:10 Hours
Canterlot Airfield
(notice: in this color, german is spoken)
Since airplanes was a relatively new concept to Equestria, and this world as a whole, Canterlot only had one airfield which was for testing purposes. It was relatively the only place where the citizens of Canterlot could get trips on airships. However, the Germans have requested to use it for their airplane.
Now, airplanes, while they weren’t that new, were still a fresh concept on Equestrian mind and had, obviously, been at odds with the Wonderbolts considering that, theoretically based on Equestrian knowledge, planes were faster than any pegasi. Most of the planes were smaller bi-planes with a few newer ones that resembled something of the British Supermarine Spitfire Mk I. Sadly, those fighters were still in their earlier stages but most Equestrian engineers understood the functions of an aircraft propeller.
Twilight Sparkle had some winter-wear on her as she was waiting for Rarity to arrive. She had visited all of her friends, but almost all of them were busy with their work. Fluttershy was taking care of Angel (who got a cold out of nowhere by suspicious means), Rainbow Dash was preparing with the Wonderbolts on another Wonderbolt show, Applejack was too busy taking care of Apple Bloom who got a cold and Pinkie Pie was busy making cakes. Rarity was the only one who had the least to do and thus she decided to go with Twilight Sparkle.
Twilight got bored as she started to tap her hoof on the concrete. She turned her neck to Spike. “Spike, could you tell me what time is it?”
“Uh.. quarter past twelve?” Spike said as he looked at the watch.
Twilight stared back at the open expanse as she sighed softly. Then, before she could open her mouth.
“FORGIVE ME FOR BEING LATE!!” was an exclamation that made Twilight slightly jump as she looked to her left and saw Rarity and her bag that was barely holding on for dear life with the amount of clothes she shoved in. “I do hope I’m not too late?”
“Rarity! You can’t just scare me like that!” Twilight said as she took a deep breath, her eyes moving to Spike as he waved sheepishly at Rarity.
“Oh, sorry darling. I was just busy preparing the dresses for this wonderous occasion!” Rarity gleamed with excitement. “I simply can’t wait to see what type of fashion does...” she stopped, wondering the words. “..what were they called again?”
“Germans.”
“Yes, the Germans!” she repeated the word. “I can’t wait to see what type of fashion they have!”
Before Twilight could reply, a violent roar of the wind was heard as a plane began to be made into view. It was a remarkably strange design. A long pointy nose, and what stood out the most was that it had no propellers on it. On its’ side it had written “Lufthansa” in gold and on its’ veritcal stabilizer it had what looked like an eagle flying down. It was on a blue background with golden atributes to the eagle.
The futuristic plane landed swiftly, as its’ wheels grinded it to a halt. Due to the airfield being small, the plane barely managed to not run off the runway. Many pegasi and other engineers around Twilight, alongside reporters, were all in awe of the technology that was this plane. The main thing that had the engineers inspect from a distance was the four box-like engines at the tail of the plane.
Eitherway, the plane began to taxi forwards rather smoothly down the lane, before it stopped about 5 meters away from the entrance building. The door on the side began to slide open as a human in an interesting bright blue dress uniform looked in suprise. The female turned her head before grabbing a megaphone.
“STAIRS?” she shouted on the megaphone.
Unfortunately, they did not have a staircase that tall to reach the main cabin entrance, and that left everypony confused for a moment. So, Twilight expanded her wings and began to flap them, before using her magic to levitate Rarity, and her monstrous bag, with her. After 2 seconds, and her ears drooping down at the noise of the engines, she finally reached the entrance as she stepped onto the smooth carpet.
Rarity was also levitated in, as she was slightly dazed but otherwise alright. Twilight then looked at the female human who blinked in disbelief before muttering. “That works too.”
They speak Herzlander. she thought before she began to go through her internal vocabulary and speak. “Hallo..uh..” she hadn’t spoken Herzlander in years and Ling was a mix of herzlander and equestrian.
The female noticed this as she sighed, putting the megaphone in an open compartment before she crossed her hands infront of her chest. “I speak English also, not to worry.”
Twilight blinked. Is that what they call Equestrian? Either way, thank Celestia. “O-Oh, that’s.. that’s good.”
“Indeed, Darling, now t- WOOhh...!” Rarity said as she turned her head and looked at the First Class cabin area. It looked more like a lounging area but it also looked incredibly traditional. “Oh.. my... GOODNESS!” Rarity exclaimed at the extreme traditionalist luxury that was in the area alongside more pieces of technology that all looked alien to Twilight. Such as the giant telescreen on the wall which was turned off. The fact that there was also a bar at the end of the section was also suprising to Twilight.
“Please, have a seat!” the female flight attendant gestured before she walked backwards, pulling the curtain that was supposed to act as the door as she went to close the main cabin door. Another attendant went ahead to secure the bag in a compartment.
Twilight and Rarity both looked around the cabin, in awe of the beautiful space that was prepared just for them. Spike already placed his backpack against one of the couches before he sat down. “Woah.. these are too comfortable..!” he said as he sunk slightly into the couch. Rarity was already sitting onto one of the couches, sinking herself against it as she giggled. “Darling, these are simply divine!” she exclaimed.
Twilight also sat on one of the empty couches, letting her saddle bag slide down as she removed her scarf off. Then, suddenly, the interior began to shake slightly before going back to calm as the plane began to taxi back to the runway. Another proof of the technological advancements of this alien species.
“Oh my.. this is..” Rarity says as she raises her eyebrow, looking at the contexts of a magazine advertising synthetic skin care products, alongside even synthetic organs. All of it was in German so Rarity couldn’t understand much of it, however, the images on it were... unnerving to say the least.
Twiliht, curious, also levitated another one of the magazines and opened it. There were things advertized in the magazine that would be considered fiction or simply insanity. There were even advertisements for brain transplants for new synthetic bodies (albiet it was prohibitably expensive by the number of zeros on advertisements). Augmentations were also advertised. If Twilight didn’t know better, she would have assumed that these were from one of Spike’s science fiction comic books!
Her thoughts were interrupted by the flight attendant’s voice. “Entschuldigen, if you would allow me, ma’am?” the woman asked as she gestured at Twilight’s stomach area with a finger. “Uh.. hoofs in air?”
Twilight looked confused before she raised her hoof in the air, watching as the human moved her hands and grabbed the seat belt and pulled on it to secure it. During this short interaction, Twilight noticed plastic on part of the female’s cheek. After the famle went over to Rarity, and did her seat belt as well, before securing Spike also, Twilight decided to make her move.
“Uhm, excuse me.” she said in a louder tone.
“Ah, ja?” said as the attendant leaned back up and placing her hands on her stomach, crossing them.
“I don’t mean to be rude but I saw something on your cheeks?” Twilight asked, trying her hardest to not put a rude tone.
The female blinked before sighing. “Verdammt.. not enough make-up.” she cursed before inhaling and exhaling. “Would you like to know what is behind this?”
“Yes, if that’s not too much trouble?”
She then looked at the purple alicorn, before putting her hand on the cheek and began to pull the hyper-realistic prosthetic skin, as it began to slowly reveal a horrific sight for the three. What was hidden was a hole in the side of the cheek, effectively mangled meat all over it and, it seemed, enough damage to cause a hole in it, enough for some of the bone of the mandible to be visible.
The sight was utterly horrifying for the three. Spike basically had to put his claws at his mouth and look away to not vomit while Rarity gasped audibally and shrieked.
Twilight just stood there in horror, her eyes becoming pinpricks as her eyeballs were falling out of her eye sockets, figuratively speaking. “W-what happened..?” she asked in a quiet tone.
“War happened.” said the attendant, before moving the prosthetic skin back and pressing on it for the skin to stick before she gave a smile. “Enough about that, uh, if you need anything, simply press the button above your head..” she gestured a finger above at a blue button with a simplistic humanoid and their arm in the air. “...and please enjoy the flight!” she said before she nodded and went forward as the plane made a loud roar as it took off.
However, she still couldn’t believe what she had seen as she just stared at the wall in front of her. Spike was already looking for a change as he grabbed the remote on the table and turned on the telescreen, as it displayed a cartoon show.
Twilight just now began to vaugely realize what she was dealing with here.
12:57 Hours
United Kingdoms of Germany, Frankfurt
Frankfurt International Airport
Aside from the disturbing sight that they saw, and the strange magazines, the trio were just watching whatever entertainment there was on the telescreen. There was a broadcast from something called the “Imperial Broadcasting Corporation” or IBC. It was the only channel they understood because all the others were in Herzlander. The IBC was mostly just giving information that all of them knew, such as the world’s kinds, etc. It was clear that the humans were making attempts to explain this world to their citizens. They got a few instances of the British Queen, as Rarity making a few comments about her pure-black eyebags not looking too good for her.
Suddenly, a ding was heard as a red button that showed the seatbelts were illuminated. Then a voice came from the intercom: “Landung”.
Twilight and Rarity just moved towards the couch-seats as they levitated the seatbelts, fastening them as Spike simply did it with his claws. The female attendant leaned through the curtain. “Anything you would like before we land?”
“No, thank you.” was the answer that Twilight spoke for herself. And the two just nodded at her answer.
The attendant simply nodded back, before moving back and disappearing.
As the plane began to move down to land on the runway, Twilight utters. “I wonder how their Kaiserin will be like.”
“I hope she will be an elegant figure, like Princess Celestia.” responded Rarity.
Twilight sighed hopefully. “Let’s hope it is that.”
Then, the plane began to shake as it hit the runway with the brakes activated to drag the plane down to a halt. After a minute of violent shaking, the turbulance stopped and the plane began to move slower. The three unfastened their seat belts and hurried to a window that could display them what was beyond. The oval window displayed the ancient splendour of Frankfurt, nicknamed Germania. Effectively, it looked like Griffenheim without the griffon additions. They could see that the city was massive, as the long and tall gothic-like sphires of the Imperial Cathedral of Saint Bartholomew in the distance. There were also some long skyscrapers with drones flying about them.
There were many flags fluttering above the airport, showcasing the golden background with the double-headed black eagle on it. As the plane moved further, it moved towards a staircase as it was indication that they had arrived.
The plane reached to a stop as the attendant opened the main cabin door, and bowed slightly. “Do enjoy your time here.” she said in a calm tone, as she raised herself up.
Twilight Sparkle, Rarity and Spike all stepped out of the plane and were immediately met with flashings of lights as it appeared that the human reports had arrived to take pictures of the beings. After being momentarily blinded, the three began to walk down the staircase. Twilight turned her head as she saw a human male in a very intricate military outfit, wearing a stalhelm as he walked over in black boots. This fashion desgin had already caught Rarity’s interest.
“Welcome to Frankfurt, your highnesses.” said the man, clicking his boots as he gripped his holstered sword. “I am Oberstleutnant Adler, I shall be your guide in the city, your highnesses.”
“Ah, no, she’s the princess, not me.” Rarity said as she shook her head and pointed a hoof at Twilight, who simply smiled nervously. “She’s acompanying me.” annswered Twilight.
“Aha, understood, your highness.” the man said before he looked down at Spike. He blinked before he muttered under his breath: “Is that a lizard?” he quickly and slightly shakes his head before he blinks. “Uh..your highness..” Adler looked at the Princess. “..is he with you?”
Twilight looked at Spike before she looked back at the human in black. “Yes, he is with me.”
Adler nodded as he stood to the side, clicking his heels before he gestured to the convoy. “Shall we, your highness?”
Twilight nodded and Adler turned around and began to walk to a car, as the Oberstleutnant opened it, allowing the three ponies to jump into the car. The convoy began to drive forward as soon as the Oberstleutnant got into the front passenger seat.
As they drove into the city of Frankfurt, the two ponies and the dragon stared at the city’s grand architecture, made from hundred of years of culture and history. However, the further into the city the convoy drove, there were also evidence of a war as several buildings were utterly ruined and crumbled. The convoy itself had to take other routes towards the Imperial Palace because of the rubble in the middle of the road. The city also was extremely overpopulated and many were living on tents in the streets.
Then, they reached the main highway, passing underneath the massive Great War Triumphal arch, as they saw the tripod and duopod automechs protecting the massive Imperial Palace just into the distance of a marble-paved road. And a lot of protestors.
“TIERE RAUS!” and “DEUTSCHLAND SPRICHT NICHT MIT TIEREN!” were written on all of the signs as a gold banner with a black nordic cross on it were being waved around. There was even a cross being held aloft by a hands in the crowd. There were also counter-protestors which waved the UKG’s flag alongside a tri-color of black, white and yellow. All they had on their protest signs was “FRIEDEN” and “PAX” written on it.
While the local police had it under control, they also had to call several razormaiden detachments to fully secure the protest and the alleyway. But, because the Razormaidens had normal-looking apperances and wore Victorian-style dresses alongside military uniforms, the three guests were confused as to the seemingly unarmed women.
Twilight was more focused on the automechs as they moved around with spider-like percision. She turned her head to the Oberstleutnant. “Excuse me?”
Adler immediately snapped his eyes and neck to the rearview mirror. “Jawhol?”
“Um, what are those things?” she asked as she pointed with a hoof at a passing by automech.
“Ah, ja, those are the uh..” he clicked his tounge. “..the automechs! Ja, the automechs.” he said with a finality.
“Automechs?” she repeated the words. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do they function?”
Adler blinked as he thought about it for a moment. “I’m sorry, I uh, don’t know how they uh...” he looked further confused slightly. “Uh, ein moment, bitte.” he nodded as he pulled out his telecommunicator and went on the translation application. He tapped the word “Betrieb”. Twilight watched the device with great interest and curiosity as it began to become increasingly clear about just how advanced humanity was. There were several generals, including the pompus prince, now field marshal also, Blueblood who wanted to invade the “puny little apes’ nation”.
“Ah, here we are, operation.” Adler snapped her out of her thoughts. “I am not an operator of it, but it’s controlled from the interior like a tank. That’s all I know. You know what tanks are, right?”
Twilight nodded. Equestria did make some prototypes and some smaller tanks.
“That’s good, I was almost thinking you used speers and shields. That should make the generals think twice.” he chuckled as the convoy took a right turn, and began to drive towards the Palace’s exterior. The palace was a near picture-perfect image of the Imperial Palace in Griffenheim with slight alterations and a dome at the center of it. The main gate had a double-headed eagle decorated with many house arms and medals on it.
Albiet, Twilight couldn’t stop but think at what Adler just said.
The convoy stopped infront, as the gate was pulled wide open, letting the cars drive into the palace. After a few more turns, they reached into an entrance pathway, the car stopping as the door to the left was opened.
Twilight, Rarity and Spike all got out as they looked at the staff members, before she noticed that one was walking towards them.
“Good morning, highness.” he said, bowing his head before he looked back at Twilight. “His Imperial Highness is waiting for you.”
Twilight nodded as the three began to follow the man into the palace’s interior. Rarity was utterly in awe at the beauty of it. There were many huge paintings and painted ceillings as well. All of them were extremely detailed and beautifully done. They passed many rooms that had marble statues and sculptures in all shapes, sizes and positions, alongside many large oil-paintings that depicted large battles, many locations and different potraits of past Emperors and other people.
They were all very beautiful for Twilight Sparkle and Rarity both. It was clear that this nation had a proud history and culture that it cherised. The palace's splendours might even rival those of the Canterlot Castle and Griffenheim's Imperial Palace combined. Either way, they reached at a singular double-door frame.
The escort turned around. "Only the Princess." he said.
Twilight frowned at that, she would have prefered to have her friends with her in the room however a quick glance at the escort's eyes made her understood that who she was meeting was very important. "Alright.." she gave a reply, one that was mixed with a bit disappointment and understanding both, alongside a tiny bit of confusion. Spike looked a bit worried but decided to let it go. Rarity was a tad bit too distracted by another potrait.
The escort gave a slight nod before he spun around and pushed the double-doors open, walked inside. Twilight Sparkle followed into the audience room which was rather small in comparison but still big enough to fit 30 ponies inside it. It was slightly overfurnished. Twilight took note of the human standing in a busniess suit. The man looked in his 50s, he had a dark-brush mustache and thick eyebags around his eyes. Thicker than any Twilight had ever seen from anypony that had exhaustion.
"Eure Hoheit." the escort's greeting was what re-focused Twilight's attention as the escort bowed his head before he softly clicked his heels, did a right-face and walked out, closing the doors behind him.
It was just Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, and Otto von Hasburg, the Crowned Prince of Germany in that room and only one of them had felt true exhaustion.
Twilight Sparkle, after blinking from the sudden departure, bowed slightly. "Your highness." she said, before raising back up.
"Don't worry about the curtesy, princess." Otto said as he waved his hand down as if to push away any such notions. "After all, we both bare the same title. " he said before he gestured a palm at the couch. "Please, sit." he said as he took his seat with grace that he had learned from bearing the crown.
Twilight Sparkle hesitated for a moment before she trotted around and jumped onto the taller couch. It was comfortable.
For a few short moments, none of them said anything as both of them inspected the other. Otto was looking up and down the purple alicorn, just as Twilight looked up and down at the human. They were in an invisible dance, both of them silently scrutizing every detail of each other's physical apperance.
Twilight decided to begin the conversation. "So.. uh.. I am here on behalf of Princess Equestria to discuss territorial cession as requested by your government?"
Otto simply stared for a second further, before he opened his mouth to speak. "That is so."
Twilight nodded slowly as she expected further reaction out of that but recieved only a blank, dead stare from the crowned prince. "So, uh, as I am sure you can understand, that will be a great cost for Equestria to make as there are citizens living in the poninsula. Princess Celestia is kind and is willing to give you this territory under a reason and, well, exceptions. To that I ask, why should we give you this land?"
Otto looked at the princess for a few seconds further, before he crossed his arms. "Because you have no other choice." he answered straightforwardly.
Twilight blinked at the direct answer. She had expected words of soothing and diplomatic gestures, so she was quite suprised at the direct, and ominous, answer. "Uhm.. W-what do you mean by that?"
And then, she got a brutal answer that she absolutely did not expect to hear. "The government formed in my aunt's name, Elizabeth, is currently made up of the military as we are under martial law. My aunt is in a coma, and the doctors don't know if she will wake up ever. I have been able to push back against any notions of immediate invasion by some warmongering generals. However, my position as heir apperant can only get me so far. The government has given me a chance to discuss things with you peacefully but made it clear that if nothing comes out of this meeting, military action will be enforced. " Otto simply said as he rubbed his hand with his fingers.
"N-now, wait a second, I am sure that there is no need for military action--!" Twilight began to say nervously but was interrupted by Otto. "Look outside, princess." he began. "There are not only Germans living on the streets, but also many other ethnicities. They will not live on the streets forever and, as large as this city is, Frankfurt does not have enough space for them all. We need land to live and settle in."
Twilight was curious. "How many, exactly? Maybe we could provi--."
"130 million."
Twilight was physically taken aback by that number. That was more than twice Equestria's entire population. Her ears began to droop. "I-I see.." Twilight then looked at the tired human in front of her. Otto sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch. "Look, I understand that this is not an easy choice for you. But you need to understand that my government wants you to say no. They want you to believe that we are weak so you underestimate us. Believe me, we aren't. "
Twilight raised her eyebrows, fear beginning to toil inside her as the crowned prince continued. "Humanity is a perculiar species, but a very scary one. We are capable of the greatest wonders and the greatest horrors all at once. Our disagreements are discussed in diplomacy until we pick up arms and force one's belief onto another. Civilization is a solution, but a very weak one. Tell me, how do you think we got here?"
Twilight was afraid to ask. But she was also morbidly curious. "How..?"
"We burned our former world. We bombed it until it was nothing more than a useless rock in space. Only the genius of the scientists at the EIEC who kindly shared with us a technology were we able to escape and save our species. We did not agree with one another and how did we do it? We destroyed our old world and we simply distorted the will of reality to our whims to escape."
Twilight stood there in shock. Every judgement and instict told her that this man was lying. That it was all fantasy and delusion. But the mere fact that she was in this very city shattered anything rational her brain was trying to form. Twilight Sparkle had, indeed, known a humanity as she was through the Crystal Mirror into Canterlot High but she did not see the technology that was here in there. There were also no records or mentions of mankind even existing in her world. Horror struck her even harder as she realized that this was a different mankind. Otto continued.
"The Kaiserliches Oberkommando is already aware of the technological inferiority of your nation and, thanks to maps that were taken during first contact, have begun conducting war plans for invasion. I have told them not to, but they make the argument that, if this meeting is not successful, they must be ready for any scenario. And believe me, the scenario of invasion would lead to such destructive obliteration that, a thousand years from now, generations yet unborn will still feel the effects. "
Twilight Sparkle was already at pinpricks, her eyes were widened and she was shaking with fear. She was breathing heavily as she felt a feeling that she never felt before. She couldn't put a name on it. She couldn't describe it and she hated that. She looked at the tired man's eyes. He is calm. How is he so calm?!
Otto sighed as he let his arms loose. "I can tell you this. If you give us the territory, we will make good use of it. So, please..." he leaned forward. "..do not give them what they want." ;
Twilight was now becoming calmer, as she took deep breaths. She saw in his eyes that he also did not want war. And based on the counterprotests outside the palace, she saw that there were those that wanted peace, maybe even friendship. And who knew? Maybe if Equestria gained favor with the human nations, Equestria would gain an alliance with them. "Alright.. under one condition."
"That is?"
"That you promise to treat the inhabitants of this land fairly and with respect. " Twilight said.
Otto gave a small smile. "Of course." Otto then pressed a button on the table as a butler came in with a tray. On that tray was the treaty and a pen.
The butler bowed his head, before he stepped forward and placed the tray down. He then grabbed the document and placed it neatly on the coffee table. Then he gripped the pen and placed it next to the partchment. Without a word, he placed his fingers on the tray's handles, lifted himself up and walked out.
Twilight Sparkle looked at the treaty as she used every last bit of Herzlander that she knew in order to understand what was written on the partchment. It seemed genuine. She then sighed before her horn illuminated and grabbed the pen in her magic grasp. After a moment of slight hesitation, she signed her name on the paper.
Twilight raised her sight as she looked at Otto, as she levitated it slowly towards him. Otto simply placed his thumb and index finger on it, pulling it out of Twilight's magical grasp before he leaned down and signed his name too.
As the two stared at each other, Twilight extended her hoof. "To a new beginning."
Otto grinned as he grabbed her hoof and shook it, nodding.
"To a new beginning."
Author's Note
RED CIRCLES ARE LIVEWIRE DEPLOYED AREAS
RED PAINTED AREAS (WITHOUT EQUESTRIAN BORDER) ARE HEAVILY GASSED AREAS
(MAP HAS BEEN BORROWED FROM THE EAW WIKI)
Alright, now that the diplomatic important thingamjings have occured, I can finally do the timeskips.
Expect much monoplizing and colonization. And a lot of interventions.
Also, in a recent gameplay, I have discovered that effectively the French are now friends with the Leauge of Nations (abiet the Germans can unite with France to form Francia under the Hasburgs in the liberal path which I am not going to do that for obvious reasons) so I have SLIGHTLY altered the canon lore so that the French have a friendship with the Germans out of necessity and hate the Russians more than the Germans.
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
Author's Note
Right, I have decided to try a new type of storytelling which is going to be more or less similar to the HOI4 event style since I want to also focus on the multitude of lives that are now effectively under a foreign government and the politics that goes on within the respective goverments. This will be conducted from time to time but the story will still focus on the main plot of the trio hardsuit soldiers.
Constructive critism is encouraged!
Now, without further ado, let's see what my lovely factory has created! (And no, I haven't forgotten about France)
(ALSO, DEEPEST APOLOGIES BUT THE FRENCH EMPIRE IS ACTUALLY SUPPOSED TO BE CALLED THE KINGDOM OF FRANCE, ONCE AGAIN, I APOLOGISE FOR THE INCORRECT NAME)
Chapter 7
7th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
12:45 Hours
Kingdom of Aquileia, Aquila
Palais Royal
The Royal Palace in Aquila was a splendour. Inside it was luxury of the highest imaginable quality, adored with many paintings of old kings, battles and diplomatic meetings that altered the history of Aquileia forever. In every corner, there would always be furniture and retail of the highest form of quality, taloncrafted and hoofcrafted both for the Discret Dynasty. The palace always welcomed all manner of visitors at the pleasure of the King. However, today, the palace recieved the strangest kind of visitor, an alien diplomat that spoke the same tounge as did the Aquilians, nearly had the same culture as the Aquilians and more.
The heir apparent and Princess, Vivienne Discret, stared at the human diplomat that the ‘French’ had sent. The diplomatic envoy had introduced his nation as the ‘Kingdom of France’. Humanity had become more or less known throughout the world by now due to all the newspapers of the world covering the events that occured regarding the diplomatic meetings, not to mention the half a dozen reporters outside the palace simply waiting for the chance to get a sight at the human.
Normally the ruling monarch would get an audience with any diplomatic envoys sent for Aquileia, however due to King Moriset’s lesser tendencies and utter snobness, the Princess was tasked by her father to deal with the diplomatic envoy sent by the alien country. Much to Vivenne’s suprise, she quickly realized just how technologically superior they were in comparison to Aquileia when the envoy started to talk about his country and found the request - or rather demand - of handing over the north-west lands of the Duchy of Rila. This obviously troubled Vivienne as he would have to convince both her father and her uncle, Michel, of complying with this request. However, what the diplomat would say next would easily help her case in convincing her father and rather suprising.
“If you wish, Votre Altesse, the Kingdom of France will be more than willing to assist with your republican issue.”
Vivienne blinked as she thought about it for a few moments. Vivienne had no love for the republicans, as they had caused issues and chaos in her country various times before as she knew due to her first memories being in the emir of Saddle Arabia. Besides, her father would grab at any chance to destroy the republicans whatever the cost as he was beginning a “Second Reign of Terror” in order to kill the idea, however, she also thought his methods were rather cruel and unneccessary. But first...
“How do you know about that?” asked Vivienne, raising a claw to her lower beak in thought.
“Because we discovered several hideouts within the borders as designated by the map, we swiftly raided them, arrested the criminals and, after exthensive interrogation, they gave up several names and locations. Should your king allow my countrymen to live under our name and King, Jean I, the Milice and the Sécurité Publique will be avaliable for your usage. “
“A generous offer.”
“En effet, votre Altesse.” the diplomat nodded. “In kind to this generous offer, and I apologise if I am repeating myself however, His Majesty would like to recieve the territory given. Our allies in Britain can vouch for us and they, I believe, will also back up this offer with the MI6.”
“And why would you want to help us? Why not weaken us with the republicans?” asked Vivienne, albiet it was a dangerous question but curiosity got the better of her.
“None of us are enjoyers of republicanism. In the old world, even the most republicanistic societies were filled with corruption and ultimately failed. Belief is a greater teacher. Of course, I would imagine that neither my King nor Britain’s Queen would wish to see a republic directly on its’ borders. Especially since France had a rather.. ” the diplomat cleared his throat. “..turbulent history as a republic itself.”
This raised more questions than answers for Vivienne, however, she saw that the diplomat did not want to continue any further. So, she decided to simply nod and accept the generous offers that were being given to Aquileia. Perhaps then, the reign of terror will end faster.
“Very well, I accept the offer. And I am sure my father will as well.” Vivienne, at last, answered as she extended her talon to which the diplomat shook it. After a small shake, the Princess signed her name onto the document.
The fate of the revolutionaries was sealed.
ENHANCED INTERROGATION TECHNIQUES
Cerlona was breathing heavily. The griffon was tied to a table, her limbs stretched as her body was aching. But she did not falter. The ideals for liberty, equality and fraternity were too big to simply let go off. The royalists had arrested her a few weeks ago and had beaten her up hard in order to get any piece of information out of her. It was only normal that they tried since she had information regarding important depots where her fellow revolutionaries were stockpiling weapons.
A few hours ago, she had been knocked unconcious and, appearntly, moved to another location. She did not recognize it at all. She had heard some muffled discussions about her being handed over to the ‘French’ - who that is, she doesn’t know - and they were now getting involved within the Reign of Terror.
She scoffed mentally at that. Another nation wouldn’t make a difference. She would endure.
The door to her right opened as a furless montaur without horns came in. He removed his darkened sunglasses and looked down, the shadows in the dimly litted concrete room barely allowing the griffon to see his grin on his face on the brushy mustache of his. “Bonjur, mon cher.” his aging voice chucking as the man leaned back up, placing his hand on his covered stomach. “So much fur.” he chuckles as he looks at Cerlona.
Cerlona grunted. “Who are you?” she spat out bitterly.
“Who I am is none of your concern. What is of my concern, however,..” he said as he leaned down into her face, as she could smell the cabbage coming from his mouth. “..is what you know.”
I knew it. she thought before she hit her head against his, sending him slightly back. “I won’t tell you shit.” she shouted through gritted teeth.
The man merely stared at her, chuckling as he grabbed a piece of cloth out of his coat, wipping it against his forehead. “Such a frenzy.” he giggled as he placed the cloth into his pocket. He then let his arm loose. The man began to pace around the metal table, staring at the griffonness’s body before he stopped back at the point where he could stare directly at her eyes.
“My furry friends are telling me you are refusing to cooperate with them, and based on the fact that you hit me, I suppose we can’t do things civilized?”
Cerlona spat out a chuckle at that. “Civilized? You call this civilized?”
“Compared to what I am going to put you through, yes.”
“Please. I’ve endured beatings far worse. Whatever you are going to do, there’s no way in Tarturus that you are going to get anything out of me.”
The man’s face went stoic and bland. His lips were a flat line. “I am not going to beat you?” he said.
Cerlona was now confused. And she was starting to get concerned. “What?”
“Blood is too much for my stomach to handle. I prefer to use other methods.” he continued.
“What other methods?” her voice was a mixture of confusion and fear.
“More cleaner methods.” he answered, as the door open and another human walked through with a tray that had tiny medical bottles. “Such as hallucinogens. They are my truth serums until said serum gets invented. “ he said as he moved towards the tray as he grabbed a pair of medical gloves. “They are in developmental phases, of course.” he added as he grinned back again. “Now, I am going to inject you with a lighter version of a hallucinogen. As time goes on, the doses are going to become much harder.”
He then grabbed one of the bottles and a syringe, as he began to smile. Cerlona watched as the demon placed the needle into the bottle, the liquid getting pulled into the syringe. The man looked at her, his smile stretching across his face as his teeth were laid bare.
”Shall we begin, my dear?”
10th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
13:45 Hours
Griffonian Empire, Griffenheim
Imperial Palace, Residence Wing
The Imperial Palace in Griffenheim was a palace that was rivaled by none. A collection of buildings added together, all of them dedicated to housing the Imperial court and the Kaiser himself. Although sadly, the Palace had slightly degraded in splendour just as the Empire had degraded, however it was nonetheless a pretty sight to gaze upon.
Inside a meeting room, it was filled with paintings and potraits, large windows that allowed the sun in to shine into the room were at its’ left side and in the center was a large oak table that was beautifully engraved.
It was on that table, however, that was being discussed the meeting between two nations that both had the culture: the Griffonian Empire and the United Kingdoms of Germany. A bit of background is in order. When the newspapers were dispersed all over the world, the news about the new nations undoubtably reached Griffenheim. The sickly Kaiser Grover V had wished to meet with the Crowned Prince of Germany in the hopes of securing an ally from a nation that the Empire shared so much of its’ culture and tounge with. It was the last thing that Grover the Fifth could achieve before his timely demise and it was his wish to, at least, secure a form of friendship between the Grover Dynasty and the House of Habsburg-Lorraine.
However, to Otto, it was an awkard moment listening to Grover as he coughed heavily. He was in his imperial regalia, wearing the best clothes that he could get his hands on for this meeting. He had, obviously, brought his wife and 6 children along with him to Griffenheim, however upon seeing how sickly Grover was, he had his children play with the younger Grover VI in another room while his wife and Grover VI’s wet nurse looked over them.
Now, Otto wasn’t against this friendship as he saw the potential. However, the issue was discussing anything at all with this bird who was coughing without end. It was clear the griffon was nearing his death and Otto couldn’t help but feel pity for Grover V.
When Grover finally stopped coughing, Otto took his chance. “I read that you began this Empire’s industrialization with the railroads, yes?”
“Yes, sorry.” Grover said as he grabbed a blanket and wipped his beak. “These coughing fits are getting worse by the day.” he mutters before throwing it at the table. “But, yes, as I was saying, my dynasty has a rich history just as much as yours. From one of the books that the diplomat returned with, I read that your house once ruled an entire continent’s empires. “
“Yes, the different branches from which I may have some relations with. “ Otto shrugged. “Something that I find both funny and sad at the same time was the amount of imbreeding. “
Grover chuckled weakly, as he grunted softly. “Yes, I saw, the long chins yes?”
“Yes, those.” Otto nodded, also chuckling. The laughter of the children running around to play tag was heard as the two turned their heads to the doorway.
“Beautiful children you have.” Grover complimented as he turned his eyes back to the prince.
“I’m sure you are also proud of your child.” Otto said as he exchanged the gesture.
“Indeed, he is a bright one and I have no doubt that he will become a great Kaiser one day.” Grover’s voice got more heavier as he let out a sad sigh. “Although I fear for his future. “
Otto nodded. The pity was intensifying. But then, curiosity got the better of him. “Forgive me for asking but why is everyone in your lineage called ‘Grover’?”
The old Kaiser shrugged. “Boreas knows.”
The two parents simply just stared at the open doorway as the children continued playing. “They are getting along well, it seems.” commented Otto.
“Indeed.” replied Grover, as he sighed deeply once again. “Indeed they are.”
The First Immigrant
The train kept rolling onwards. It was the first train that was heading towards Imperial Britain rather than out of it. Ever since Imperial Britain had created relations with different griffon nations and opened borders with them, so far no one really wished to go into Britain through Aquileia. Rather, an exodus of ponies and griffons occured immediately after the British government had announced that they were opening the borders through normal regulation.
Due to rumors of the mass alien industrialization that was occuring within Imperial Britain, no creature wanted to visit the land of the humans out of a science fiction novel. So, the train bridge between Aquileia and Britain remained empty and unused. The British Rail Corporation that controlled the railway into Britain had tickets to be sold, but as mentioned above, none bought them..
..until today. The first british train left for Aquila at 10:30 Hours to pick up its’ first passenger. The griffon had boarded the train and was headed towards London. This griffon had heard the news all the way from the south-east of Griffonia and, when he heard that it was a nation that agreed with his notion of technology, decided to go there. He had used his old Griffonian Empire passport to get himself through the various nations he needed before he arrived into Aquileia. Once he arrived in Aquila, he immediately purchased a ticket for Imperial Britain and booked himself into a hotel.
Now, he was on that train as it was chugging its way back to London. The griffon was reading his newspaper of the British Newspaper Service and was already intrigued by what he was reading. This was everything he wanted and more. His feathers were getting ruffled further from his excitement. Especially this company called the Edison Imperial Eletric Company. They had been at the forefront of the Second Enlightenment with technology and had even managed to make their queen reach become semi-immortal, leading to her hundred-year-long reign!
The train shuffled slightly as it was now on the bridge and crossing into Britain’s border. The griffon sighed as he closed the paper, before he placed it down and reached to grab the clockwork he was working on. His talons were intricately working on the screws, as he continued to assemble his clockwork. It was his fifth and it was something he did when he was bored. It’s a shame that the Griffonian Empire never saw reason for his work, but he didn’t care any further. Now he could work for a nation that would appreciate and encourage his research and work.
Time passed by a flash as the griffon finished his clockwork. He looked at it with no small amount of pride. He had been so focused on working on the clock that he didn’t notice that he had arrived at the first train station stop. An officer from the Border Force slid the door to his cabind open as he stepped inside. “Hello sir.” the man nodded at the griffon. “Papers, please.”
The griffon nodded, before he grabbed out his passport, alongside his train ticket and entry visa, and handed it to the customs officer. The officer opened it as he looked inside. After a few seconds of inspecting, the man looked at the griffon. “What’s the purpose of your visit?”
“I’m within the intentions of moving here.”
The officer nodded before he closed the passport, and handed the griffon his documents. “Very well then. Welcome to Britain, Mr. Schmeller.” he said before he left, leaving the griffon alone.
After a few more minutes, the train began to move again, this time towards London as the intercom indicated. As he saw the megacity complex come into view,
Leopold Schmeller smiled. I am home.
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
10th of January, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
10:34 Hours
Imperial Britain, New Liverpool (formerly Canmarea)
New Fairview Street
Since most of the natives had promptly moved out of Imperial Britain, besides those who couldn’t afford to leave and some odd visitors, mostly scientists, the British government had effectively purchased all of the empty homes and buildings and sold them back to the people at cheaper prices for those who could. Who couldn’t afford a house, even with the cheap prices, were simply given one anyway as part of a re-settlement program that sought to empty out the London megacity and distribute the human population throughout the territory.
Captain Bennet was one such person. He had recieved a ‘re-location’ ticket and given the keys to a new house on the coast that was New Liverpool. Due to his status as a hardsuit operator, the house he got was a slight mansion that had the height to accomdiate for his size. Bennet didn’t wear his suit always as those things were removable. They were either left at a military base in the residing city or the operator could take it with him and throw it inside his closet.
Since this city was also a port city, the Royal Navy had established a naval port in the city. As such, since hardsuits were operated jointly by the British Army and Royal Navy, Bennet had left his hardsuit there. Lord knows that he was already too big with all the surgeries that made him taller and stronger physically. He already had problems fitting into a bus. Either way, he stared at the mansion in all but name. It was a lovely property that had a sizeable enough garden. To him, it was a normal sized garden but to the average-sized man it might have been a big one. Bennet began to consider taking up gardening as a hobby.
Bennet pushed the gate open, as his boots stepped into the gravel pathway. His steps rubbed against the gravel, making a crunching noise. Bennet took 6 steps before he already found himself at the door. Bennet reached into his pocket, reaching for the key as he pulled it out. It was small in his palm, about as big as his pinky finger. He placed his sack of items on the ground, moving his other hand to grab the key, moving it into the keyhole. Bennet was already sweating from anxiety. He had to be very careful as to not accidentally snap the key. He finally managed to turn the key, unlocking the door as he pushed it open, revealing the interior.
Bennet sighed as he took a step in, dumping the key onto a table that had been left behind by the previous owner, before he turned his waist to grab the bag. He pulled it in, before he pushed the door behind him to close. Bennet looked around. The home was big enough as for him to not his head against the roof. Bennet removed his shoes, before he began to explore the house as he looked around to find the bedroom.
After 20 minutes of exploring, he finally found the bedroom. The only piece of furniture in it was a queen-sized bed. To him it may as well have been a normal sized bed. Bennet sighed as he let the bag fall and grabbed out his clothes. He hanged the clothes into the empty wardrobe before he threw the bag into the wardrobe. That was all he had for now.
At that moment, Bennet’s stomach groaned. Bennet placed a hand on his stomach before he sighed. He went downstairs and went to the entrance door. The kitchen was empty so he would eat out at a restaurant or a bar and then buy some food from the retail store. He fitted his boots, tied the laces and walked out of the house, back on the street.
14:10 Hours
Russian Expeditionary Authority Territory
Altytown
Colonel Talkov was getting bored. Another shot rang out from his pistol as another pony dropped to the grass below. Talkov took another step forward, his breathing heaviy from the gas mask. Another shot and another heretical animal brought dead.
Talkov had been killing these talking ponies that were taking prisoner for hours now. He had killed them in all the ways the man knew how: first he fed them to the combatages, then he dumped them into a crate of livewire, after he got bored of that, the ponies were made to drink acid.
Either way, in his eyes and in the eyes of what remained of Russia, these things were abominations against God’s nature. They had the capability to think as man did and that was enough to result in the Church declaring these ponies as creations of the Devil against the natural order of the Lord. Man was made in His Image and Man was to inherit the Earth as the Christian churches often declared. Besides, they had proof through the God Engine that the LORD still communicated with the Church and kept the original teachings of Man. (see image below)
He finished the last shot, as the pony fell dead. The colonel then holstered his pistol and looked behind him. The engineers were reloading the rockets into the mobile rocket launchers as to appropiately bomarde another acursed city until it resembled more of a crater. They were also filling it with gas. Again? Not that Talkov had a problem with it. The engineers were the more liberal when using such things and they had a tendency to effectively use every last canister until there were none in reserve.
Talkov sighed as he adjusted his gas mask. He walked to the command tent. It’s been a few days since this expedition began and it was the easiest any Russian had ever done. Even Alaska was harder than this. The flat terrain contributed to that and the lack of readiness, adding with the utter fear and the fact that most of the ponies surrendered rather than gave a fight. Obviously most of the ponies were shot on the spot, but those that were taken prisoner were interrogated and then shot. The very few that survived were to be transfered back to St. Petersburg to be locked in the Zoo and, if more prisoners survived, were to be sold as livestock and pets both. That will make an interesting picture when the Blessed Imperial Family took their next potrait with a pet pegasus or something.
His thoughts were interrupted by two sounds. First was the sound of the artilery barrage that any Teuton would fear, the sound of the rocket artilery barrage. And the sound of his field phone ringing. He removed his gas mask, exposing his rough skin to be exposed to the cool air. He inhaled before he grabbed the handset and brought it to his ear. “Da?”
A beep was heard on the other side of the phone. The sound of an automated message that was designated for the entire frontline.
“ATTENTION! AN IMMEDIATE CEASE FIRE HAS BEEN ORDERED BY THE GENERAL STAFF! ALL FORCES ARE TO CEASE ALL OPERATIONS AND REMAIN ON THE DEFENSIVE UNTIL FURTHER ORDERS! ANY WHO DO NOT COMPLY WILL BE SUBJECT TO DISCIPLINARY ACTION. REPEAT..”
The automated voice continued to repeat the order over and over. But Talkov was not listening. A cease fire? This contradicted the General Staff’s previous orders to show no mercy. This simply doesn’t make any sense. However, Talkov was a soldier and a good soldier follows order. He sighs as he puts the handset back down and got up, putting his gas mask on before getting up and walking outside.
Talkov walked over to the engineers as they were making jokes and laughing while the rockets were still firing. “Aye! You lot! Halt your fire!” he shouted as he waved at the engineers, who looked at their commander confused. “What?” one of them shouted over the noise.
Talkov got closer as he shouted further. “SHUT. IT. DOWN!” he shouted as he looked at the engineers. The engineers, baffled but not wanting to disobey their superior, nodded and went ahead to deactivate the artilery pieces. Talkov knew that they were just going to wait until the rockets were fired and simply not re-load it. But he was too tired to force them to stop them midfire.
Talkov merely wondered as he had only one question in his head: Why?
16:50 Hours
Imperial Britain, New Liverpool (formerly Canmarea)
New Fairview Street
If one was to wonder why it took Bennet 6 hours or so to get back home, the answer is very simple: the ponies bought almost all of the food before they left and the stores were nearly empty in New Liverpool. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem as automation allowed for the stores to be restocked in a matter of minutes, however since this is the new world, such a thing had not been introduced and distributed throughout the land. Some of the food had to be bought from the local producers, such as pony farmers, who were more skeptical and frightful of him when they first saw him. So, Bennet had to get himself onto a train back to London in order to actually get some proper food. He also had to wait in line because of the government-imposed rations in order to get what he needed.
Now, 6 hours or so later, Bennet had arrived back home with a bag full of the food he would use to get by this evening. He had also cooked up himself something that was at least edible for him to consume before he moved to the nearly-empty living room except for the telescreen on the wall that had been mounted on the wall and an armchair that was waiting for him. Bennet figured he would be watching some news for now. He had heard the IBC was re-broadcasting their first pieces of news in this new world.
After making a bit of soup for himself, he sat down and grabbed the remote before turning the telescreen. The logo of the IBC was onfront as the narrator spoke.
”-is IBC Evening News with Walter Cronkite. “ before the screen switched to the man.
”Good evening. Our main story tonight: ‘League of Nations intervention’.
As all the nations of the League were re-establishing contact with the nations within this alliance alongside other nations such as the Princessdom of Equestria, which have expressed interest in the League, disturbing reports have come from the island which the Equestrians have called ‘Griffking Isles’, that the Russian Empire has, by some terrible miracle, got their hands on the technology that was used by the Imperial Confederation and her allies and have arrived to this new world.
The Russian government has already begun hostilities with its’ so called ‘Blessed Expedition Westward’. This expedition came to light after the Stalliongradian government had sent requests of assistance to any nation that might be willing to assist it. Based on reports from both the Russians and the Stalliongradians both, this Expediton appears to be an ongoing success.
British and American diplomatic intervention has been established after Princess Celestia herself has requested the help of the Imperial Confederation, while the German government has already pledged to lend-lease weapons and other forms of material to the Stalliongradians to aid in their effort against the Russians. The French have diplomatically condemed the Russians, however have not made any other pledges of support.
A diplomatic summit has been requested at Canterlot, to which the Germans, Americans and British have all agreed attendence. The Russians have also agreed to send a diplomatic envoy to discuss matters.
In another piece of news, the National People’s Party have begun harrasment of the ponies still living within Imperial Britain via the Blackshirts. One witness called it troubling, however one of our reporters managed to get a comment from one of the blackshirts. (Screen switches to the man in a black outfit and a cap) “Why should we welcome them? They are bloody animals! Since when do we welcome fucken animals?” (Screen switches back to Walter). Sources indicate that the government has begun drafting legislation to integrate the natives into British culture.
Onto other news, a new movement seems to have begun taking over Britain and Germany. ‘Unification’ as it is called, calls for the proposed plans for supernations to be created. In Britain’s case, the United Imperial Commonwealth, and in Germany’s case, the Federated States of Europa. These seperate movements have argued that unification of all the cultures under a single identity is the best way for survival in this world. Both governments have not made any comment regarding these movements.
One final piece of news hails from the Kingdom of Aquileia. The Imperial Security Service, following an Freedom of Information Act request, has released a paper relying worrying information regarding the Kingdom’s stability as the Republicans have increased their terrorist activities ever since the Kingdom of France’s intervention. Prime Minister Churchil has already pledged military support to Aquileia in the event of an armed rebellion by the Republicans.
That is all for this evening, ladies and gentlemen. We will continue to monitor and follow the events that occur in this brave new world. This has been Walter Cronkite from IBC Evening News.”
The screen switched to the IBC logo before it began to sing “Land of Hope and Glory”.
Bennet had already finished his soup, as he just stared at the screen. He grabbed the remote and shut it down before he looked at the clock. It was 18:30. He sighed as he got up and walked back to the kitchen. Bennet was thinking he was probabbly going to be deployed to the french birds if the situation got bad. Bennet rubbed his eyes as he threw the bowl in the sink before we walked to the staircase, went upstairs and threw himself in bed.
Tomorrow is another day.
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
Author's Note
As the title suggests, upper management has decided to make a second attempt at the HOI4 style of writing and has been discussed that the stories should be maintained in an entire seperate chapter of this story.
As such, the following stories have been taken through either observation or direct interview by our agents on the field of world PWX-8901. All these have been taken from ponies or griffons.
When an interview is present, our agents are designated as A and with a multitude of agents being A1, A2, etc.
Upper management thanks you for your understanding.
Short Stories Part 1
TRANSCRIPT INTERVIEW LOG #8139
A1: Thank you for agreeing with this interview. The Civil Service appreciates your cooperation.
P1: No problem! I’m happy to help. [Subject grins]
A1: Right. So, first question would be.. [shuffling noises] ...what was your reaction to Britain’s arrival and the treaty’s redefinement of the new borders?
P1: Uh.. I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand that question?
A1: I meant, what was your reaction when your government gave my government the territories, including the village that you reside in?
P1: Ohh! Well then, I’ll tell you that I was real suprised and a bit afraid. My wife immediately began to pack up, shouted real loud that ‘we must move!’ she repeated. As you can see, my friend, I am a poor stallion. Don’t got enough money to buy another house anywhere. I barely have enough to give my fillies a teddy bear, for Celestia’s sake. The moment she read the paper, that newspaper from the Happening World, I believe it was called? When she got that paper instead of the usual Marelander, she panicked instantly! She began to pack up everything that could be moved! She already began making plans to move to New Manehattan!
New Manehatten, of all places! I took this house here on a loan that took 10 years for me to pay off! With what money were we going to use to move? Especially on the rent in this economy?! [Subject takes a deep breath as he leans back]
Anyway.. I told my wife that we don’t have any way to pay for moving like all the other rich ponies in my town. It broke my heart to see her so afraid, she was so afraid of the, and I mean no offense by this, ‘techno-apes’, as she called them.
[Agent 1 gives a small chuckle]
A1: I have a wife like that. Always overthinking things.
P1: I know right? If you ask her now about how she behaved a week ago, she plays it off! Heck, I remember how many times she looked behind her shoulder, always expecting the police to come after us. Either way, I was out of the job because even the companies began to leave like ponies at a race contest! Before, I was simply poor but still had a stable job. Now, I am both poor and jobless. Thankfully, the next day, I saw job openings on the newspaper for a company called the “Edison Imperial Eletric Corporation”. I used the last of my minutes on the landline to call the number, and after a few minutes of talking with a representitve, blam! I was back on a job.
A1: And you are set to work in the factory that they are opening in this town?
P1: Yup! The EIEC brought them tools and they said they will be teaching us how to operate the tools! The salary’s also quite good!
A1: If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your salary?
P1: They said I’m going to be making 10 pounds an hour!
A1: That’s quite low, but still a good salary for someone like you.
P1: Huh? Doesn’t it mean 10 pounds of bits?
A1: Ah, no. Uh, it’s 10 pounds sterling. And If memory serves me right, a pound is worth half a bit.
[Awkard silence ensues.]
P1: HALF A BIT? I’M MAKING FIVE BITS?
A1: Don’t worry, its’ only temporary, once we get established and open up our economy to the world, it should be better.
P1: I hope so.. [Subject looks at the clock on the wall] ..oh BUCK! [Subject begins to look panicked] ..I’m sorry, my good fellow, but I have to get some food from the market before my wife makes me sleep on the Tartarus-damned couch!
A1: No worries, that was all I had to ask anyway.
[TRANSCRIPT TERMINATED]
Awe at the horrific intelect of Man
The Imperial College of London had gained further popularity ever since Britain’s arrival into this brave new world. The popularity was less from mankind (who found the College just the same) and more so from the unicorn intellectuals who worked in small schools and academies. Ever since the Imperial College was re-opened by the Queen herself, some of the few immigrants who came were the outcasts of the Equestrian education system, mares and stallions who trotted with the forbidden and worst of arcane magic.
Of course, most of the universities and schools in New Mareland and Equestria were suprised but otherwise happy to let go of these troublesome students who always tried to learn the forbidden. Yes, the University of Frankfurt also allowed those types of students but the mares and stallions did not really have the time, or the patience, to learn German, so they took a plane or a ship towards Imperial Britain, or the UCA and then Britain. The Imperial College, obviously, has hired them as it was useful to gain native knowledge of this new world from willing natives themselves.
The Ministry of Technology has also hired some of the ponies and griffons for themselves, however MinTech works hand in hand with the EIEC and the Imperial College. That’s how they have managed to secure hegemony in the old world, and that’s how they intend to secure hegemony in this new world. Especially with Winston Churchil’s favoring of continuing Joseph Chamberlain’s plan in creating a United Imperial Commonwealth. Of course, Parliament passed bills that specifically forbade necromancy (except under specific circumstances).
However, now, we have a group of ponies - newly arrived and hired by the Imperial College - given a tour.
“Lovely to see you all! I am the esteemed Doctor Markoner, the head researcher of this FIIINNNEEE establishment! Now then, here at the College, no form of sience is EVER forbidden! We ask questions and we INTEND to answer them and gain COMPLETE mastery of it. For the good of Britain, of course!”
Solar Dawn was another one of the genius unicorns whom the College had hired. Solar Dawn had a mind of brilliance in the field of magic, possibly even equal to Twilight Sparkle, however Solar Dawn was also rather too curious for the School for Gifted Unicorns’ liking and was promptly expelled. Solar Dawn wasn’t a necromancer (well she knew how to use it but she had the moral code of not using it), but the fact that she knew it placed her life at risk because the Equestrian authorities would imprison anyone with that knowledge. This establishment was her chance to move ahead in the field of science and the arcane.
Her thoughts were silenced as a door was blasted off its’ hinges from the side of the hallway. Smoke coming out of it.
“OY, WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?!”
“YOU STUPID BASTARD, YOU FUCKED UP THE EQUATIONS!”
“AYE, HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE PROJECTION WAS SUPPOSEDLY MISSED BY A NEGATIVE POWER?!”
Dr. Markoner looked behind him, the noise coming from the room before grinning as he turned his head back to the group. “Do not worry, the rooms are all made of titanium and, of course, you all have the best safety precations and MORE in order to increase YOUR INTELLECT!” the human was pratically bleaming. “So, allow me to continue this tour before I tell you lot your assignments.” The man led them forward, as the ponies followed the man.
The Imperial College’s building was pratically a bigger and fancier version of the Luna Nova Academy, however, it was what the professor told them that their assisngment was after 30 minutes.
“W-Wait what?” one of the stallions stammered as he stared at the copy of the file.
“What’s the matter lad? This project has been specifically given to you lot since you lot have absolutely SPECTACULAR skills in the field of the arcane magic!” the doctor exclaimed with cheer. Perhaps too much cheer for comfort.
“B-B-B-But, this is nuclear science!” another mare exclaimed as she turned her head to the still smiling doctor.
“Indeed. And what of it?”
“But.. But isn’t nuclear sience unplausable!?”
“Nope! It is very plausable, and very practical! I’ve looked over the Equestrian scientific papers, and of course, they are all well and good, but compared to us, it is VERY RESTRICTED! We here are not stopped by SUCH things such as restrictions, we are FREE to research what we desire! Now, the Ministry of Defence has graciously asked MinTech, the EIEC and the Imperial College to find a way to remove the effects of radiation from the equation!” he beamed. “Radiation is very bad within our knowledge and they typically tend to render the nuclear cluster bombs useless a lot of the time, so THAT is now your job to find out how to use magic to remove radiation from the equation!”
Solar Dawn, and everyone in her group, stood there terrified for the first time since stepping hoof inside this building. These creatures mastered the atom and also created weapons out of it?
“Now then, the project chief is an exceptionally talented griffon! And of course, the first native of this world to gain British Citizenship so fast! I would like you all to meet..” the doctor led them all to a specifically designated room for the group of ponies. “...Professor Schmeller!”
The brown griffon turned his face to the crowd, a grin forming on his beak as he turned around from the heavily scribbled board in different coloured-markers filled with equations and other drawings. His new prosthetic hyper-realistic eyeball that he had replaced from the purple gem he had in his eye. He grinned as he waved a claw to the crowd.
Sweet Celestia, give me strenght.
Priviliged Compromises
“What do you mean ‘no’?” asked the trade union mare as she stared back at the human. Some bit of context is in order, ever since the British arrived and the land was given by the treaty in Sunset, several unions formed that not only promoted and wished for equal rights with humans, but also wished for the Equestrian cultures to be integrated within the British ones. A few weeks later after the unions announced their intentions, Queen Victoria has formulated a comittee within the Privy Council in order to have discussions with the leadership to seek a compromise. The negotiations were going well, until the unions asked for Equestrian culture to be accepted as seperate from British culture.
“I do apologise, but we simply can’t accept a completely distinct identity. We already have accepted many, especially those who have been on the home islands and the peoples. You are lucky we accepted a breed from the two cultures.” said the old counsellor with a long, white beard.
“But most of the ponies want to be your bloody equals! What do you say to them?” shouted a light-grey coated stallion. “What do you say to the ponies who are seen as below your kind?”
“We say that you are getting rather too many priviliges than we have ever allowed to any other culture within Britainnia’s borders. If we give you any more, then the Scottish and the Welsh and the Irish will start to demand just the same. We can’t have rebellions on our hands simply to stasify one cultural group. The best you can get is something of a breed. British-Equestrian, Scottish-Equestrian, call it what you will, but that is the best we can do.” said another counsellor with a tired, aging face and balck hair that had strands of white.
“Then your best is not good enough for my kind!”
“Yes, and sadly, my kind outnumbers you by several millions. We have options to dispose of a population such as yours. And, guess what? No one in my species would lose sleep over it. Your only option is to simply integrate within British culture and that is enough. We have already given you more than what you deserve: equal standing in laws, ability for you to be voted into Parliament and easy capability for you to gain British citizenship. You have been given more rights in a few weeks than an Irishman in a century. But these rights are priviliges that Her Majesty can revoke in an instant if you act out of line and bite the hand that tolerates your existance.” answered the man.
The union members could not come up with a single excuse. How could they? Most of them were socialists. They belied on a form of twisted moral values to get their way. But here was a society that would not give in. There had already been conflicts about allowing a human and an equine to be in a relationship. The Privy Council had to threaten ending this entire meeting if they were not given their way, and the unionist gave in. Now, there was one final attempt to try and fight against them. “But what i-.” the stallion began but he was cut off by the chairman counsellor.
“Let me make this exceedingly clear.” the old man said as he removed his glasses and grabbed a cloth to wipe off the dust off of it. “You are a minority. In Parliament, if a party has enough seats to form a majority, that’s a government. We go by that principle. You are in the minority by a large margin and we still gave you the opportunity to speak with civilized people.” he said as he stopped wipping the dust and placed them on. “Now if you are too stupid to realize that we go by very strict morals and we have different values. The government may be liberal but that does not mean we will give up our principles. Those who do not understand that are either thrown into asylums or deported. “
The man took a moment. “As my esteemed colleague said, you have been given more liberties than we are comfortable with. In a shorter period of time, might I add.” he said as he adjusted his glasses as he placed them on his nose and pushed them up. “Now, the options presented before you are quite simple. Accept our generous, rather priviliged, offers or we will start treating your kind as the Russians do and throw every single bunch of you into ghettos, of which those that integrate within British culture will get their livelyhood back and those that don’t will simply be deported.”
“What you are taking about is cultural genocide!”
“Call that what you may but we could care less. No one powerful enough on this earth will help you and God forbid you help the NPP win the elections because then the streets will flow with your blood.” answered the consellour. “And as much as the Worker’s Union Party are rallying cries for affirmitve action, no one harbours any love for them. So please, accept the deal and spare us all the needless job to deal with you.”
This left the unionponies in a deep silence. They could not believe it. This establishment was not going to budge for them. This was an establishment that had no mercy for the weak and the loud. Civilized as they be, the establishment had rules and principles that they would not break for the sake of a minority that was miniscule in the face of tens of millions of humans. The Crown had come to them to speak, and had offered a rather priviliged compromise for them and the unionponies realized that if they did not accept this compromise...
..then the establishment would be forced to act accordingly .
How to obliterate an Idea 101
How could have this happen?
None of them knew. But it happened. The Aquileian Revolution had failed and it had ended in destructive bloodshed thanks to France and Britain’s intervention had effectively sealed the revolution’s fate as a whole. It was doomed to failure the moment France decided to offer their services to the Kingdom of Aquileia to root out the republicans, and they did it effectively. They did it so effectively that many Aquilans were more afraid of the Milice than the King’s secret police. The Milice had so much influence over the King that they were responsible for all of the King’s signed decisions.
First, martial law was declared all over Aquileia at the advice of the Milice. Then, the Milice advised that their interrogators be allowed to interrogate the prisoners. Whatever the Milice did to them was so effective that nearly all of the republicans gave up information to France’s military intelligence. This information was given to Aquileia’s police, whom were all given proper policing training by - you guessed it - the Milice. The Milice also advised the King to arm the police, sign anti-republican laws and basically give the police the carte blanche to execute all the republicans.
When the armed rebellion occured and civil war broke out in Aquileia, not only did the French Army intervene on behalf of the monarchists, so did the British from the south. Their hardsuit soldiers marching through the streets, the three-legged automats shooting any griffon from the rooftops and firing missles over any building block and artilery. Endless artilery bomardements.
MI5 also got involved and effective cooperated with Milice to not only put out the fires of rebelion, but pull out the weeds and completely obliterate the idea of republicanism ever popping up again. MI5 offered ariel intelligence and distrupted enemy supply lines and even released the varicella-zoster virus over the republican front, offering the cure to any griffon who laid down their arms, denounced the republicans and surrendered to the monarchists.
Needless to say, this brutal and heartless strategy worked. Griffons were either too afraid or were too sick to fight. And of course, while some griffons were willing to die for the cause, the Milice had threatened their whole families to be executed if they did not care for themselves. The Milice and MI5 both were unforgiving and throughly heartless, sure, but the methods they used were effective. Extremely effective. It was a miracle that the Revolution survived 3 weeks, because when the human agencies were done with them, the idea of a Second Aquileian Republic was throughly destroyed. As far as they were concerned, the idea of a free republic was going to become fantasy.
And to fully ensure that the idea fully rotted, the British and French governments both dispatched a glorified occupation force that was approved by the King at the advice of the - drumroll please - Milice. However, a few days before the last Republican holdout was destroyed, the King was “assassinated” and Vivienne Discret came to the throne, one that both the British and French government endorsed.
“MAKE READY!” shouted the British officer as the machine gunner cocked the machine gun. The last of the revolutionary leadership was now infront of a wall stained with blood from the executions. Théodore Vérany and Léonard Rodier were among the bodies that were to drop. The griffons that had desired to liberate their fellow griffons were now facing a machine gun. The two simply stared at the humans infront of them. That was all they could do. No last stand. No nothing. As long as these nations existed, Aquileia would never again be a republic.
“FIRE!”
And thus, the Idea of a free Aquileian Republic, were everycreature was equal, is dead.
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
GOVERNMENT MEETING ROOMS AUDIO FILES
Coltstream Sumit
"..and now the last thing on the agenda." River Swirl said as she levitated the list, as she stared at it for a moment. The last thing on the list was the most contraversial one yet, and yet the most important one: interactions between the human nations. "How the River Coalition will interact with humanity." she said in a calm voice, and yet she saw that everycreature in the room was clearly getting increasingly... uncomfortable is the word that comes to mind.
Their involvement in the Aquilan Revolution had left the world distraught at the methods in which Britain and France used in order to crush it. In exchange, the Kingdom of Aquileia had joined the League of Nations (the first native nation to do so), but it was clear as day that Aquileia was now a puppet in all but name.
Every nation within the Coalition had initially condemed the atrocities and imposed sanctions on the two nations for what they were doing in Aquileia. However, that simply did not work because the British already made trade agreements with Skyfall and the French, with the Germans, were next. The human companies had already asked for license of trade within the nations of the Coalition, and only one has accepted: Diamond Mountain.
The effects were already quite shocking as the companies, more so the Edison Imperial Eletric Company and the AEG, had pratically catapulted the mountainous country into an industrial revolution. King Rover Diamondshield had gotten filthy rich from all the contracts (as those companies more or less desired mining rights to the crystals), especially after Diamond Mountain was exporting Crystals to the human nations as requested by the companies. Those companies had even crushed a slave rebellion before it even started by putting explosive collars on all the dog slaves.
Of course, everyone else in the Coalition was horrified at the horrific practices and lack of care for the workers, but there was one problem: the human nations were still getting richer. And their primary enemy, the Griffonian Empire, had just signed a treaty of Non-Belligerence with Germany a few days ago, both sides sending military attachés, and to make things worse, the Hasburgs had paid IG Farben, a german medical megacorporation, to treat and cure Kaiser Grover V von Griffenheim. A surgery was conducted at the Imperial Palace in Griffenheim and Grover V came out looked better than ever. The IG Farben representitives told the news that the Kaiser needed some rest but should be feeling perfectly well in about a month.
Everycreature knew what that meant: an alliance between the UKG and the Griffonian Empire was now inevitable.
This was obviously very bad for the stability of the Coalition. If the Griffonian Empire got their claws on the technology, even a small percentage of it (seeing as the League of Nations refused to share the technology under the pretext of 'global security'), the Riverlands might as well unfurl the yellow and orange banner and start learning Herzlander (or German depending on who is asking).
However, not all hope was lost. The UKG had also offered diplomatic talks with the River Coalition's member states, even the British knocked on their doors to talk. This was the subject of discussion for the Sumit.
"What is there to be said?" asked King Grimhoof of Deponya, crossing his hooves as he leaned back against his chair. "It is clear there is no other choice but to have diplomatic relations with the League of Nations."
White Star, Queen of Wittenland, was not very pleased at that prospect. "Forgive me, but must we really? These creatures don't follow our principles. I've already sent a few ponies to visit London, and they tell me stories that appear out of horror stories!" she blurted out as she placed her hooves on the table.
"Yes, but what about their technology?" asked Springtime Frost, president of the Republic of Lake City, who looked at White Star with a displeased face. "These beings, from what've gathered, have capabilities beyond our wildest imagination! Their knowledge is leauge ahead of even your unicorns, White Star." he said in an irratated tone.
"I mean, they did cure the Griffonian Kaiser of what was essentially a terminal illness." added President Water Lily of the Bakaran Republic. "And, even according to British reports, they are pumping out more ships in 3 months than what all of the best ship builders in all of Bakara can make in a year." she said as she sighed. "We can't realistically expect to fight a nation that already has activated 4 battleships in 3 months and win."
"Come on, guys!" chuckled Rover Diamondshield, as he leaned against the round table. "Why are we even discussing this? The answer is obvious!"
"Says the dog that sold his country." rebutted White Star.
"Ey, I'm still filling my country's coffers and production is up by mountrous levels! " barked Diamondshield. "Eitherway, I'm supporting the notion of engaging diplomatic relations with the League of Nations."
"For once, I agree with the king." River Swirl said. She may not like the imperialism and utter disregard that the British showcased, but they still had democratic instituions and offered good living conditions. "We can't allow the Griffonians to get too friendly with the humans. Anypony remembering how quickly Stalliongrad collapsed in the face of the Russian onslaught will know that we can't atagonize those nations. " She inhaled, as she placed on a stern face while exhaling. "I move that we open diplomatic relations with the League of Nations."
The room fell into silence, as if all of them were waiting for anycreature else to make a notion against it. But not even White Star could debate what happened in Stalliongrad as that country got roflstomped so badly that they are now a puppet state of Equestria in all but name.
They didn't want to engage with mankind but reality would no longer afford them the luxury of selective discussion since mankind arrived. These nations were only weakened due to the lack of manpower and lack of resources, but once those issues were fixed, they would be unstoppable. As such, the brutual truth was either diplomatic friendship with the more friendlier nations or inevitable destruction.
The vote came unnanimous.
Karthin, Royal Palace Conference Room
It's been a few days since the King had declared martial law and dissolved the Chambers of Deputies using his royal prerogative since he had his discussions with Prime Minister Gallo Ventriglio. King Garibald Talonuel III sat in a very opulet, yet still luxurious small room with his selected ministers to discuss the lion in the room: Imperial Britain and the League of Nations.
The swift crushing of the Aquilan Revolution with the force of a hammer had shaken the entire continent of Griffonia, and the republican cause to its' core. The sheer brutality, and the absolute hatred for republics by mankind, in which the Revolution was handled either completely ended any republican thought in countries next that were within proximity of Imperial Britain or France, or amplified it, such as the Griffonian Republic's increase in action (as they have begun heavy militarization).
All of the nations, however, began the process of opening diplomatic relations with the League of Nations (in the least). It was simply a question of the level of diplomatic relationship. The King had made those observations. However, it was his turn since Britain had sent a diplomatic delegation to Wingbardy to discuss diplomatic relationships between Britain and Wingbardy.
The King sighed, as he rubbed his claws against his eyeballs, before letting them fall onto the oak table. He looked at the group that he had selected as his advisors were waiting for their monarch to speak. Garibald looked to his left, seeing his new Minister of Foreign Affairs, Grino Grandi. He waved his claw as it hit the table again. “Speak.”
“Well, vostra maestà, as you know, the Foreign Office of the British has come to us regarding our standing and with an offer.” the purple griffon began in a calm tone. “Their offer..” he holds a paper in the air before looking back at it. “..is increased diplomatic relations between us and Wingbardy. “ he said as he looked at the paper, before looking at the King. “They are conditions. Such as the matter of New Mareland, which the British have made claims over. And mutual cooperation and understands of colonial matters. That’s quite literally it.”
Silence befell in the entire room. The King raised an eyebrow at that proposition as it was audicious. But, a thought went through his mind, and he decided to ask. “Has Britain made any claims over Talouse or Francistria?”
The griffon shook his head. “Not really. The British have informed my office that, should any situation present itself, the Imperial Confederation will take over New Mareland.”
“All they want is New Mareland?”
“Indeed.” Grandi said. “The British have expressed unusual..” the purple griffon left his mouth open as he thought of a word, before clacking his beak closed. “...eagerness to begin cooperations with us. We have also recieved a notice from their ‘Buckingham Palace’ that..” the griffon grabbed the other letter, staring at the fanciest font of writting he has ever gazed his eyes upon, before he read it. “..’Her Royal Majesty, Queen-Empress Victoria, has expressed her solem intention to see if His Majesty, King Garibald Talonuel, third of his name, would be pleased for tea in London.’” said the griffon before he flipped it, adjusted it and placed it on the table. “I believe you should take the opportunity, vostra maestà.”
The King merely sighed as he thought about what the situation entailed. Garibald would be the first monarch to visit Buckingham Palace since not even Vivinne Discret had recieved such an invitation even though the British had effectively placed her on the throne. And besides, if the horror stories of what occured during the ‘Great Supression of the Revolution’ were to be believed, Garibald really had no choice if he didn’t want his nation to become a smoldering ruin due to an insult to the Queen of Britain. There was, however, benefit to be gained from this as the British would, perhaps, share their technological advancements, even just their technologies that the British considered outdated, would throw Wingbardy into something of a technological golden age.
The King nodded. “Very well then, make it happen.” he sighed.
FILE #716452 - CITIZEN Hyper Power
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... clank
Hyper Power’s hoof trailed from the alarm clock, as he shuffled himself around the bed. The purple-coated earthpony stallion opened one eyeball, barely having the eyelids open for full vision, staring at the digital numbers written on the clock: A full dotted 7 in the morning.
His lips gave out a soft groan, before he pulled himself up, huched back against his own weight before he moved his hooves to rub his eyeballs. Hyper Power had just recieved a new job at one of those ‘Tesla Tower’ facilities. What it was, he had no idea, but he took the job if it meant putting his eletrical engineering degree to work, he would take it.
Hyper Power slid down from bed, letting his hooves hit the wooden floor before he went to the kitchen and began brushing his own teeth. A few minutes later, and the stallion went out of the bathroom and trotted over to his wardrobe, pulling the handle bars and looking inside it. He stared at the clothes he had, before he grabbed some simple wear and a cadet hat and placed it on his head. His ears twiched slightly at the fabric before his eyes looked back down.
Inside the drawer were his identification card and his relocation papers. Hyper had been hired by the RWE AG (Rheinisch-Westfälisches Elektrizitätswerk Aktiengesellschaft) as part of a mass hiring spree by the German government to kickstart the German industrial machine. Hyper knew that he may have been one of the only few ponies that stayed within the UKG’s territory due to the mass exodus of ponies that left the territory out of fear for the unkown. But once Hyper got to know what he was dealing with, he liked it here. The German government even offered him dual citizenship.
He grabbed the ID, before grabbing a saddlebag, throwing it onto his back before slidding the ID. He then went to the kitchen of his studio apartment and grabbed some hay for later. He then looked at the mirror, taking in the fact that this was his life now. He stared at the industrial worker with his bright-yellow eyes before giving himself a small grin. He then trotted out of the apartment, closed the door behind him, grabbed the key out with his mouth, turning it as the door locked with a click. He then spat the key into the saddlebag and then trotted down the hallway. He lived on the ground floor so he was immediately outside the housing complex.
Hyper Power took a breath of air before he began to give a slight cough. The air was already slightly polluted, but not that much since regulations imposed by the Sozialistischer Bund (SB) allowed it. And the UDP also funded into more eco-friendly technology that would purify the air coming out of chimneys. However, as of now, the UDP’s only concern was to get the German economy up and running, the environment be damned.
He trotted forward before his hooves touched the asphalt, trotting past several humans, before he heard some chanting. Hyper turned his head to the right, seeing people chanted “Einheit!” and “Wir wollen ein geeintes Europa!”. The flags waved were dark-blue with a circle of stars and a red cross on a dark-yellow circle. Some were carrying a long sigh that said “Gemeinsam sind wir stark! GETRENNT UNTERGEHEN WIR!”
Hyper had seen many such protests since he moved here. Once they got so big that he had to be escorted by the police to his work. He saw many humans carrying clipboards that most likely had petitions on them. There were signs even in other languages.
Hyper turned his head away from the distraction to continue on his path to work. The chantings were getting quieter and quieter as he trotted away further. The street was starting to get busy with bicycles before Hyper saw a news board on the side of the road. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and he decided to take a look at the news board. Hyper had made an effort to learn German since his job required to learn the language, so he would often look at news board to remember the words he had done with his German teacher.
Some were simply party insults, others were from the “Happening World” which said that the British government was putting a bill through the House of Commons to centralize authority in London and form the United Imperial Commonwealth due to so many petitions wish so. Another article spoke of Wingbardy delegates meeting in London to discuss the partition of Abyssinia. And then another newspaper told the Reichstag was already putting pressure on the German government to adress the “European Idea”, most of it coming from the SB.
One final article said that Crowned Prince Otto von Hasburg had signed a Treaty of Non-Belligerence with Kaiser Grover V in Herzland following the operation that had saved Grover’s life. Some griffons from Yale were already screetching to understand the technology.
Hyper simply shrugged before he continued to walk. 10 minutes of walking had finally led him to arrive to the encampmanet which held the big iron-skeletal structure which had a big metal ball at the top that was the Tesla Tower. This thing, he was told, appearntly supplied the entire region with electricity. Either way, the stallion simply trotted towards the area, as he walked towards the security checkpoint. The human asked one question: “Deine Ausweis, bitte.”
Hyper simply moved his hoof into his saddlebag, grabbing the ID before holding it up. The human grabbed it, took one look at it, and placed it back on Hyper’s hoof, gesturing for him to go.
Hyper gave a simple acknowledgement nod before he trotted forward into the yard. Hyper then reached the door, as he pushed it open and walked into the locker room. He threw in his saddle bag in the designated locker, and grabbed the safety equipment, adjusting the hardhat on his head tightly before putting his hoof on the metal, closing the locker as he turned around and started walking towards his designated spot.
The air was eletrical, as buzzings could be heard everywhere. During his training he was informed of two very important things when one works in a Tesla Tower. One, it connects people to the GWN (Global Wireless Network) and secondly, it makes eletricity by itself. So unless he wanted to be fried to death, Hyper Power ought to not touch the damned tower. He simply trotted towards a control room.
After he reached the door, he placed his hoof onto the door handle, pulling down as it unlocked, opening for him, as he trotted in.
“Morning, Hyper.” waved a 32-year old man in a white-coat.
“Hello there, Fredrick.” Hyper Power answered before he climbed onto the chair. He then tapped on the black and green screen, typing his number and password. “How’s Mara doing?” Hyper asked while waiting for the system to acknowledge his credentials.
“Ja, she’s doing fine! Now that school has be reopened. “
“Right-o then.” Hyper Power then looked back at the screen, as he pressed a hoof on it to take him to the main panel. “ACCESS RESTRICTED - SUPERVISOR ACTIVATION KEY REQUIRED.”
Hyper blinked. He then looked around the area. The supervisor’s chair was empty. Hyper looked around, seeing the supervisor nowhere.
“Where in Tarturus is Peter?”
Just as fate would have it, Peter then slammed into the room, the door hitting the concrete wall with a thrust as Peter looked absolutely misreable. “Sorry, everyone!” he shouted. “I got stuck trying to get through one of those damned Unity protests. They were doing a march, interlocking fucking arms..” the 40-year old man in a lab coat said as he closed the door, before removing his bag off. “..and one of them got my arm. I had to show my ID to the Ordungspolizei for them to grab me out of that march!”
“They have been becoming an issue, ja.” commented Fredrick.
“So it seemed.” said Hyper as he leaned against the table.
Peter sighed as he agreed, before turning on the systems and removing the restriction.
Another day at work began.
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
11th of May, 1007 ALB(1962 AD)
16:40 Hours
Griffonian Empire, Griffenheim
Imperial Palace, Kaiserzimmer
Breathing was the only sound that could be heard. That and the heartbeats from the heart monitor that was attached to Kaiser Grover, fifth of his name. The surgery had been a success, however there were some complications that the humans would only tell to the patient. Either way, the Kaiser looked like he would live, thanks to the miracolous technology of mankind.
Archon Eros VII sat next to the Kronprinz Grover, the next in line to the throne of the Griffonian Empire, as the archon was holding the child close to him, while the boy was playing with his toy train. In that room were a few nobles, most notably, Duchess Gabriela Eagleclaw and Grand Duke Gerlach IV. There was also Benito, alongside other relevant figures. All of them were there out of genuine hope or strategic desire.
It had been about a day since the successful operation performed on the Kaiser. And the doctor wished to wait until the Kaiser was awaken so that he could "discuss his current situation" - as the doctor said.
A small groan snapped them all out of their thoughts, as Grover V blinked his eyes open, slowly opening them before he looked around. The young Grover was the first to squeal with happiness as he fluttered over to his father. "Papa!" he squealed, before putting himself into the Kaiser's arms, embracing the griffon, as Grover V gave out a small cough, before he placed his talons around his child, embracing. "There, there, child.."
Eros VII muttered under his breath as he clasped his aging talons together. "Praise Boreas." he said under his breath before approching the Kaiser's bed. "How is your majesty feeling?" However, the room soon began to fill with voices of relief and thanking Boreas, as they all surrounded the Kaiser's bed.
Before Kaiser Grover the Fifth could answer, Benito cleared his throat, kneeling down infront of the bed. "Your majesty, the surgeon wishes to see you. Shall I allow him in?"
The entire room went quiet before Grover raised an arm up, letting it drop down onto the bed. "Bitte."
Benito nodded, as he got up, clicked his paw and made a swift turn, as he walked over to the door, gripped the handle and pulled it open. A group of humans in white coats began to fill the room, one man (which was Professor Walter Schreiber, the man who had operated the Kaiser) with brown hair with bits of grey stepped forward, as he bowed his head, lifting his head back up, before he began to speak. "Deiner mäjestat."
"Hello, professor." the griffon replied back, as he looked right back at the human who had potentially saved his life. "What is it that you wish to speak with me?"
Prof. Schreiber looked at the other doctor, who held out a clipboard, before grabbing it. "I regret to inform you that we were not able to save your life. " the professor began. "We were, however, capable of extending your life by 20 more years. We had to remove 3 organs, including the lungs and your kidney, and replace them with synthetic organs." the man inhaled, exhaling before flipping the clipboard. "During the operation, we discovered that your majesty had cancer."
The room went quiet, as the air became colder. "However." the doctor's voice cut through the stillness. "We managed to extract said cancer, but due to the lack of knowledge of the gryphon anatomy, and since your books did not help us much, we are now aware of the extent of the damage caused by the cancer. However, looking at your medical records told us enough that it was a terminal one.
As such, as the Imperial Family of Germany has already paid for full medical expenses, we are making what we call radiation therapy avaliable to your majesty. Prescribed medication will also be necessary in order to stop the pain and also stop your fur from falling off.
The damage caused by the cancer, however, was enough for us to be incapable of fully saving your life. As I mentioned, if you do the therapy and take the provided medication, you will be capable of living to 20 years, perhaps an additional five years, however, the damage was, from our understanding, too great to effectively cure you. "
The room, as soon as it was filled with sound, went just as fast out. The doctor crossed his hands, as he looked at the Kaiser with a rather sorry look.
Grover V simply inhaled, letting the air enter his lungs, before exhaling through his beak. He leaned his head back against the pillow. "I understand." he said. "I'll do whatever it takes to at least see my son grow.." a small cough, as he grasped his son in his arms.
The younger Grover simply returned the gesture to his father, thinking of it as a simple hug, as he was blissfully unaware of the conversation that occured. Not that he really understood the fancy words the humans were using. "So, you'll stay, papa?"
"Yes, my son, yes I will." replied the Kaiser in a quiet tone.
"Well.." the Archon said as he inhaled, and exhaled happily. "...thank Boreas for this great miracle."
"Indeed, your holiness." replied Benito.
By the Grace of God, Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Queen of the United Commonwealth of America, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of all Her Realms and Territories, The Right Honourable Winston Churchill , Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, on this auspicious day, do hereby decree and establish the West Zebrican Company .
Whereas , it is the duty of the British Empire to extend its influence, ensure the prosperity of its people, and open new avenues for trade, exploration, and resource extraction,whereas , the lands of West Zebrica hold untapped potential in their resources, wealth, and strategic importance to the Empire,whereas , the British Empire seeks to bring civilization, commerce, and British values to all corners of the globe,
Now Know Ye that We, Victoria, by the Grace of Almighty God, do hereby grant and ordain:
Article I – Formation and Incorporation
The West Zebrican Company shall be established as a legal and sovereign entity under the protection of the Crown and the Government of the United Kingdom.
The Company shall be granted full powers to govern, administer, and oversee the territories on the western sections of the continent known as Zebrica, as may be acquired or entrusted to its authority, in the name of Her Majesty and under the advisement of the British Government.
The Company shall be vested with the rights of trade, exploration, settlement, administration, and exploitation within the territories as outlined and assigned by the Crown and the Prime Minister.
Article II – Governance and Leadership
The Company shall be governed by a Governor-General , Sir Evelyn Baring as its' first, appointed by the Crown, with full executive and administrative powers within the territories of West Zebrica.
A Board of Directors shall be established in London, composed of representatives from the Government, the Crown, and prominent British business interests. This board shall oversee the commercial and political affairs of the Company, answerable directly to the Prime Minister and the Crown. The Governor-General shall report directly to the Crown and the Prime Minister on matters of state, commerce, security, and colonial development.
Article III – Rights and Obligations of the Company
The West Zebrican Company shall have the exclusive right to extract, process, and trade resources native to the lands of West Zebrica, including but not limited to minerals, precious stones, exotic animals, and agricultural products. The Company shall establish settlements, trade outposts, and administrative centers throughout West Zebrica to ensure effective governance, resource extraction, and expansion of British influence. The Company shall maintain its own military and policing forces to safeguard British interests, secure the territories, and ensure peace and order. The Company shall have the authority to negotiate treaties, manage relations with local powers, and, where necessary, wage war in defense of British interests in West Zebrica, with full backing of Her Majesty's Government.
Article IV – Obligations to the Crown and People
A portion of all profits and revenues generated from West Zebrica shall be returned to the Crown and the British Government, for the betterment of the Empire. The Company shall commit to the development of infrastructure, including roads, ports, and communication networks, to ensure the prosperity of the region and facilitate trade with the United Kingdom. The Company is charged with promoting British values, including the spread of Christianity, British law, and education, among the local natives of West Zebrica, in a manner that upholds the dignity and civilizing mission of the Empire.
Article V – Duration and Review
This Charter shall remain in force for a period of 100 years, after which time the rights, privileges, and obligations of the West Zebrican Company shall be reviewed and renewed as deemed necessary by the Crown and Parliament. The Prime Minister, on behalf of Her Majesty's Government, retains the right to amend, review, or revoke this Charter should the actions of the West Zebrican Company be found contrary to the interests of the Empire.
Signed and Sealed by the Hand of Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, This 14th Day of March in the Year of Our Lord, 1962.
By the Sovereign's Command,Winston Churchill
In accordance with the Royal Charter for the West Zebrican Company, and in the interests of the British Empire, the following orders are issued:
The West Zebrican Company (WZC) is hereby granted full and unrestricted rights to extract and exploit all oil reserves within the territories of West Zebrica, without delay or hindrance.
All claims, objections, or protests by local native populations regarding resource extraction are to be ignored, and no interference in WZC operations will be tolerated. The interests of the British Empire supersede all local concerns.
The West Zebrican Company is granted full authority to use military force, or any necessary means, to suppress resistance to its operations. Any individual, group, or entity found obstructing or opposing the extraction process is to be considered hostile and dealt with accordingly.
The Company is permitted to execute any measures it deems necessary, including the removal or elimination of any resisting individuals, to ensure the safe and continuous extraction of oil.
This order is effective immediately and shall remain in force until further notice.
By Order of the Prime Minister,Winston Churchill Prime Minister of the United Kingdom
Approved by Her Majesty’s Command,Victoria Queen of the United Kingdom
In the interest of advancing British scientific and technological supremacy, and in accordance with the Empire’s objectives in West Zebrica, the following covert operations are authorized for the Edison Imperial Electric Company (EIEC):
The Edison Imperial Electric Company (EIEC) is granted full covert authority to conduct experiments on local populations within West Zebrica, including the abduction of native inhabitants for scientific and technological research.
The EIEC is authorized to detain, transport, and utilize native individuals for any experiments deemed necessary to advance the Empire's interests in electrical technologies, biological sciences, and energy development.
All operations are to remain strictly confidential. The WZC and British military forces stationed in West Zebrica are to provide indirect assistance where required, ensuring no traceable connection to the Crown or the British Government.
The EIEC is empowered to use any necessary force to secure subjects for experimentation. Any native groups that attempt to resist or expose these activities are to be neutralized.
All results from these experiments are to be reported directly to the British Government under secure channels, with a focus on technological advancements that could benefit the military and industrial sectors of the Empire.
This directive is issued under the highest level of secrecy and is not to be revealed or discussed outside of approved personnel. The utmost discretion is required in all actions.
By Order of the Prime Minister,Winston Churchill Prime Minister of the United Kingdom
Approved by Her Majesty’s Command,Victoria Queen of the United Kingdom
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
24th of May, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
10:30 Hours
Maregyptian Beaches
HMS Relentless
The skies over Maregypt were a grim shade of grey, thickened with smoke from artillery fire, and the occasional flash from distant explosions briefly illuminated the dark clouds. The air was hot and dry, thick with the scent of war, and from the deck of HMS Relentless —the only aircraft carrier in the fleet—the sound of bombers taking off could be heard as they began their deadly descent toward the beaches below. Their payloads were hardly the kind that would give anyone a warm, fuzzy feeling—chemical warfare bombs, tailor-made for utter devastation.
Colonel Eddmud Blackadder stood on the bridge, hands behind his back, observing the scene below with the sort of enthusiasm one reserves for watching paint dry. His body covered in a summer clothing, and on on his head a pith helmet. Blackadder himself was less of a demon and more of a devil with a sharp wit and a distaste for the sort of work he was being paid very handsomely to do.
"Ah, Maregypt," Blackadder sighed, his voice muffled by the gas mask strapped tightly to his face. "Nothing like invading a hellhole full of zebra revolutionaries and pony monarchists to make me long for a quiet night in with a nice cup of arsenic."
He watched through the lenses of his mask as the Royal Marines stormed the beaches, alongside with the occasional hardsuit personnel here and there. The medium-mechanized automats—towering, spindly walkers with tank turrets mounted in their bellies—strode forward with menacing precision behind the infantry, offering support-fire via minigun turrents that spewed 155 mm shells at the defenses.
Anyone with sensible eyesight and a functioning brain could see that this was not a battle. It was a particulary aggressive hostile take-over of a nation by the West Zebrican Company. Only instead of money and stocks, it was shells, bombs and more bombs.
"George!" Blackadder shouted, turning his head to where his ever-loyal (and frankly dim-witted) subordinate, Lieutenant George, stood beside him. George was fumbling with a pair of binoculars, squinting as though trying to read the instructions on a box of explosives.
"Yes, sir?" George chirped, his voice as enthusiastic as ever, despite the carnage unfolding below.
"How are we looking down there, George? What’s the tally on destroyed infrastructure, burned villages, and traumatized zebra revolutionaries so far?"
George flipped through his notes, shaking his head in confusion. "Well, uh, according to the reconnissance drones, sir, we’ve, uh, utterly decimated about twenty-three villages, flattened approximately... carry the one... twelve supply depots, and, uh, we’ve got about six battalions of zebra militia currently trying to fight back with sticks and what I can only assume are very rude gestures."
"Marvelous," Blackadder drawled. "Remind me to send them a thank-you card and a bottle of something alcoholic, preferably something that will finish the job quicker than our bombs."
Another explosion rang out in the distance as a shell from the heavy gas artillery landed squarely among a cluster of zebra defenders. The thick, choking green mist spread like a plague across the beaches, and through the zoomed lenses of his mask, Blackadder could see the zebras and ponies clutching their throats, collapsing like puppets whose strings had been cut. A particularly large burst of gas followed as the chemical warfare bombs dropped from the bombers overhead detonated, blanketing the Maregyptian defenses in a toxic fog that spread through the trenches.
"Ah, gas. The great equalizer," Blackadder mused, sounding utterly bored. "Some men die with honor, some men die with dignity. But gas? Gas makes sure you die coughing, spluttering, and trying to apologize to your lungs for being born."
George nodded, apparently oblivious to the grim tone in Blackadder's voice. "It’s quite the spectacle, sir! Chemical warfare and bombers really do get the job done, don’t they?"
Blackadder arched an eyebrow behind his mask. "Yes, George. I believe we’ve successfully established that if you drop enough bombs, even the densest of zebras will stop complaining and start assuming room temperature."
One of the medium-mechanized automats fired a shell that obliterated what appeared to be a Maregyptian stronghold—though ‘strong’ was rather generous considering it had the structural integrity of a sandcastle. The tower crumbled, sending zebra and pony defenders scattering in all directions.
"I must say," Blackadder said dryly, "if it weren’t for the fact that we’re securing the vital oil supply of this godforsaken land, I’d almost feel bad for the poor sods down there. Almost. But then I remember we’re getting paid, and suddenly my conscience grows remarkably silent."
"Indeed, sir!" George agreed, his voice far too cheerful for someone witnessing a massacre. "We’re doing the world a favor! Securing oil, food, and... well, uh, what else are we here for again?"
"Control, George," Blackadder replied flatly. "We’re here for control. Oil, food, land... you name it. We’re British, after all. If it exists, we’ll claim it, and if it fights back, we’ll gas it until it can’t."
As if on cue, another volley of gas artillery was fired, the shells whistling as they soared through the air and exploded over the Maregyptian defenses. The chemical cloud rolled in, choking every last corner of resistance from the trenches, and the few defenders still standing dropped like stones.
"Reminds me of the Great War, sir," George said with a nostalgic sigh, his voice crackling through the gas mask filter.
"Ah yes," Blackadder replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Back when we fought for freedom, liberty, and the right to slaughter each other over a few miles of trench. Good times, George. Good times."
Down below, the beachhead had been established. The hardsuits trudged forward, their weapons cutting down any stragglers that dared to poke their heads out from whatever sad excuse for cover they had. The automats stomped through the wreckage, crushing debris and bodies alike beneath their spindly legs.
Blackadder glanced at his wristwatch, sighing. "Well, George, I’d say we’ve officially broken their defenses. Not that there was much to break. It’s like stomping on a particularly annoying anthill. Messy, but ultimately satisfying."
"Yes, sir!" George said, still far too cheerful. "And might I say, we’ve done it in record time! You really are a tactical genius, sir!"
Blackadder gave a slow, exaggerated nod. "Yes, George. I’m the Napoleon of desert warfare. If Napoleon had access to an entire fleet of bombers, artillery, hardsuit infantry, and chemical weapons that could make even the most stubborn zebra rethink their life choices."
The radio crackled to life, and a voice buzzed through the speaker. "Colonel Blackadder, the beach is secure. No sign of further resistance. Orders?"
Blackadder tapped the radio. "Excellent. Proceed to phase two. Push inland, secure the oil fields, and make sure to gas anyone who even looks like they might be considering resistance."
"Yes, sir," came the reply, followed by the hiss of static as the line went dead.
Blackadder turned back to George, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Well, George," Blackadder sighed, "looks like we’ve done our job. All that’s left is to enjoy the smell of victory, which, coincidentally, smells a lot like burning zebra fur and mustard gas."
George gave a hearty laugh. "Oh, sir! You’re always so full of wit and charm!"
Blackadder stared at him for a long moment. "Yes, George. Wit, charm, and a deep, unyielding desire to drown myself in gin and forget I ever set foot on this godforsaken continent."
"That’s the spirit, sir!" George beamed, clearly missing the point.
Another explosion echoed in the distance, followed by the sound of yet another wave of bombers flying overhead, their shadows cast long over the battlefield below.
Blackadder adjusted his gas mask and turned to face the smoldering ruins of what was once the Maregyptian front line. "Well, George," he said, his tone deadpan, "welcome to Maregypt. The land of sand, sun, and the occasional chemically-induced massacre."
George clapped his hands together. "What a place, sir! What a place!"
Blackadder rolled his eyes beneath his mask. "Yes, George. A place where dreams come to die. And by dreams, I mean zebras. Lots and lots of zebras."
And as the last bomb fell, Blackadder’s wit remained as sharp as ever—cutting through the fog of war, just as the gas rolled over the broken beaches of Maregypt.
Why God?
Bennet struggled to move his armored foot among the sand, as he kept his shellgun aimed at the defenses, not that there were any at the moment. He lifted another foot, before it landed on the sand with a thud, as he moved himself forward by approximately 2 inches.
His armor was not exactly made for soft ground, as it was meant for urban warefare and to crush and bring down any stubborn defenses or be at the front - alongside tanks and automats - of a particulary agressive push. However, since the Company was on a very tight scheduel to secure the entire country by tomorrow morning, he was deployed as part of a blitzkrieg strategy.
He stopped as he saw one of the strider's tripod long thin metal legs hit the land infront of him, as the hardsuit's user interface had warned him of such. The UI had a map and utilized on radio frequencies to show what was where. Until London decided to send another satelite into space, he had to make due with this.
The land was covered in chlorine and mustard gas, as he couldn't see shit beyond a few meters. That's why the Royal Marines would often try to stay behind a hardsuit as to not accidentally get shot or stomped by said person. There were about 30 of them behind him, as he stomped slowly forward.
Finally, after God knows how long, he finally stomped out of the gassed beaches, as he jumped over the trench line with a thud and continued to walk forward, while the Marines were spreading out. Bennet could hear the soft rumblings of tanks being dispatched from behind, as he finally lowered his shellgun and holstered it close to his chest, as he looked around.
Dead bodies of ponies were everywhere. Blood polled in several places, but it was clear that all of them either chocked on the air or drowned on their own blood. Bennet looked around further, his footsteps crushing a few dead ponies or zebras, as the scene became more clear. It was an incredibly one-sided affair which could barely be considered a fight.
He stopped as he placed his armored arms onto the butt of his shellgun, resting them as he simply stood there. There was nothing for the captain to do really. All around him were already things done, Marines removed the flags long ago and replaced it with the Union Jack, supplies were coming in readily and everything was already done. Bennet worked it out that the country would be under the Company's control in a few hours at best, as he stood there.
26th of May, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
14:20 Hours
Kingdom of Wingbardy, Abyssinian Colonial Terriory
The skies above Abyssinia were a bleak battlefield of smoke and metal, where the sun struggled to pierce through the thick black clouds left in the wake of endless bombardments. Below, the Wingbardian forces—griffons in their sleek World War II-era uniforms—scurried about like rats, clutching their bolt-action rifles and outdated submachine guns as if they could ward off the inevitable. Their wings twitched with anxiety as they listened to the low hum of something far more terrifying than any native Abyssinian rebel they had ever encountered: the growl of the British war machine hovering above them.
High above, the massive, ominous figures of Lockheed AC-130 gunships cruised through the sky like predators, their eyes focused and unblinking, searching for anything unfortunate enough to wander into their path. These flying behemoths had no mercy, no hesitation, just a singular mission—to rain hell upon the enemy. And if the Abyssinian rebels thought they had seen terror before, they were woefully mistaken.
Below them, towering over the desert landscape, moved the mechanical nightmares that made the Wingbardians' blood run cold: British Striders . Spindly and unsettling, these mechanized walkers moved with unnatural grace, their limbs hissing as they traversed the rocky terrain like the avatars of death itself. Tank-like cannons were embedded into their bellies, swiveling with deadly precision as they offered support fire for the British and Wingbardian forces.
For the Wingbardians, this was colonization turned nightmare.
In one such makeshift command post, General Benito Avvoltoio, the Wingbardian commander, stood with a trembling claw over a map of the Abyssinian highlands, his feathers twitching in agitation. His once prideful stature was diminished by the distant but ever-present roar of British AC-130s tearing the sky apart above them. Every vibration in the ground felt like a prelude to disaster, and every shadow cast by the towering Striders reminded him that he and his forces were mere ants in the British Empire’s grand chess game.
"By Boreas, those... things," Avvoltoio muttered, looking skyward as a low, distant rumble from the gunships reminded him of the unstoppable power at his back—or rather, above it. The Wingbardian colonization effort had gone well enough, at least until the Abyssinians had begun organizing fierce resistance. When they had begged the British for support, Avvoltoio hadn't quite expected this . Now, the very sight of their allies made his feathers stand on end.
His aide, Captain Alessio, wasn’t faring much better, his beak clamped shut in a permanent grimace. "General, we have reports that the Abyssinian rebel forces are preparing another attack along the eastern flank."
"Another attack?" Avvoltoio scoffed bitterly. "How quaint. Do they think a few outdated rifles and ragtag formations will be enough to stop the British death machines up there?"
The ground beneath them shook violently, causing both officers to stumble. The unmistakable sound of a Strider's artillery rang out, a deep mechanical whirring noise as its cannon unleashed a barrage of fire toward the eastern ridge. Through the haze, they saw the Strider, looming above the battlefield, its three mechanical legs hissing as it reoriented itself for another shot. The Abyssinians stood no chance, caught in the crosshairs of technology they could scarcely comprehend.
"Doesn't matter what they think, sir," Alessio murmured, his eyes glued to the sight of the towering mechanical titan. "It matters what we think. And right now, sir, I’m thinking we’re ants watching giants play with magnifying glasses."
Avvoltoio swallowed hard. The ground shook again, and this time it wasn’t just from the Striders. The deep, methodical thrum-thrum-thrum of helicopter gunships echoed across the desert. From a distance, their silhouettes appeared—sleek, black, and merciless, like birds of prey circling a dying carcass. The Wingbardians may have been masters of the skies in their world, but the British gunships turned the concept of aerial dominance into an art form of destruction.
As if to punctuate his thoughts, the roar of miniguns erupted from the helicopters, strafing the battlefield with a relentless barrage of firepower. Abyssinian rebels who had dared to poke their heads from cover were instantly cut down, torn to shreds by the hail of bullets.
Avvoltoio watched through his binoculars as entire squads of Abyssinians simply disappeared in the dust, evaporated by the sheer volume of fire.
And still, the AC-130s circled above, their larger cannons booming as they provided devastating support from the heavens. A rebel artillery position was obliterated in a single, thunderous shot, leaving nothing but a smoking crater.
"This is madness," Avvoltoio whispered, barely able to tear his gaze away from the carnage. "Absolute madness."
"Madness, sir?" Alessio turned to him, his face pale beneath his feathers. "No, sir. This is what the British call Thursday ."
The general shot his aide a glare but didn’t argue the point. It was hard to argue with the truth when it was being painted in blood and fire across the Abyssinian plains. The British hadn’t come here to play games. They were here to remind everyone, Wingbardian and Abyssinian alike, that they were the undisputed masters of modern warfare.
"Look at them..." Avvoltoio muttered, staring at the Striders as they methodically picked apart Abyssinian positions. "They don't even care. They crush them like insects."
"Better the Abyssinians than us, sir," Alessio said grimly, casting a nervous glance at the towering war machines. "I... I think I'd rather be on the wrong end of the Abyssinian rifles than under one of those things' feet."
Avvoltoio couldn’t disagree. Every boom from the Striders’ cannons, every rattle of the miniguns from the gunships, and every distant thunderclap from the AC-130s made his claws curl into fists. The British were untouchable, and he knew it. The Wingbardians had come to Abyssinia hoping to carve out a colony with some help from their new ‘allies,’ but now... now it felt like they were little more than observers, watching as the real power—British power —tore their enemies apart with a level of detachment that was downright terrifying.
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life, and a clipped, emotionless British voice filtered through the static. "General Avvoltoio, this is Captain Patrick Wells of the 5th British Automaton. We've neutralized the Abyssinian artillery positions. All targets have been suppressed. You’re clear to advance and mop up."
"Mop up," Avvoltoio repeated, his voice flat. "Thank you, captain." He said before
The line went dead, leaving the Wingbardian command post in uneasy silence.
"Mop up," Alessio muttered. "We've been demoted to janitors, it appears."
Avvoltoio didn't answer immediately. He stared out at the battlefield, at the burning wreckage, the broken bodies of Abyssinian soldiers lying in the dirt, and the towering Striders that loomed over them like ancient gods of war.
The ground shook again, and another Strider moved forward, its spindly legs hissing with hydraulic power. The Abyssinians—those few brave or foolish enough to still be alive—fled in terror, scrambling away from the titanic machines as fast as their legs could carry them.
"This isn’t colonization anymore," Avvoltoio finally said, his voice low and filled with a cold, quiet dread. "It’s extermination."
"Perhaps, sir." Avvoltoio responded. "But at least we'll have more griffons alive. And we aren't doing the heavy lifting, so that's a plus."
From the skies, the AC-130s circled lazily, their cannons still trained on the ground below, ready to unleash hell at a moment’s notice. Above, the helicopter gunships prowled like hungry wolves, their rotors slicing through the air in an endless, relentless beat.
The Wingbardians had asked for British assistance in their colonization efforts, but now, watching the destruction unfold around them, Avvoltoio realized they had gotten far more than they bargained for.
And for the first time since the operation began, he found himself wondering just who the real enemy was.
30th of May, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
00:20 Hours
Federated States of Europe, Frankfurt
In the heart of Frankfurt, the air buzzed with an electric sense of anticipation. The city, a symbol of Europe's past struggles and triumphs, was now about to witness the dawn of a new era. Crowds had gathered by the tens of thousands, filling the streets, squares, and every available rooftop to witness the historic moment. Banners of the newly minted Federated States of Europe (FSE) fluttered proudly in the wind, emblazoned with the stars and cross. It was a night that would be remembered for generations, the day when the continent set aside centuries of division and became one.
The iconic Römer square was at the heart of the celebration. Massive screens projected the unfolding events for those who couldn’t see the stage where Otto von Habsburg, now the Crown Prince of the FSE, was set to deliver his address. The air smelled of fresh bread, beer, and burning torches, blending the aromas of celebration with the gravitas of history. A sea of flags in blue and gold shimmered above the heads of the crowd, while fireworks intermittently lit up the sky, even before the official ceremony began.
On the grand stage, Otto stood tall, his regal bearing a blend of the old monarchies and the new democratic values that defined the FSE. His uniform was immaculate, decorated with medals and symbols of Europe's many nations, showing the unity he now represented. Behind him, an orchestra waited in anticipation, their instruments ready to perform a rendition of Ode to Joy that would echo through history.
The chattering of the crowd began to die down as Otto stepped up to the podium, gripping it with steady hands. His eyes swept over the gathered masses—Germans, Italians, Poles, Spaniards, and countless others—united in a way that had never been thought possible. The silence became palpable, the world seemed to hold its breath for the words of the man who was to lead them into the future.
Otto took a deep breath, and then, in a clear and resolute voice, began his speech.
"Meine Damen und Herren, citizens of Europa,” he started, his voice carried by the wind through the square. “Today marks the birth of something greater than any of us could have ever imagined. For centuries, our continent has been divided—by borders, by languages, by wars that tore us apart and left deep scars upon our lands and people. Even with our transport towards this new world, we were divded. But tonight, no more. ”
A cheer rippled through the crowd, but Otto lifted a hand to bring silence once again.
“Tonight, the Federated States of Europe are born through the will of its people. A Europe united by its shared values, by its commitment to democracy, freedom, and the belief that we are stronger together than apart. Tonight, we have done te impossible. ”
His words hit with the weight of history, carried by the dreams of millions who had endured the horrors of division. People waved their flags harder now, eyes gleaming with hope and pride.
“Tonight, the United Kingdoms of Germany become part of something far greater—a federation that will be the beacon of civilization, the vanguard of peace, and the heart of a continent that is once again whole.”
The crowd roared, and the sound was deafening. Otto paused, his eyes glistening with emotion, allowing the people to celebrate the enormity of the moment before he spoke again.
“Our journey was long. It was not without struggle or sacrifice. But today, we stand as one people—eine Nation, ein Europa—not through the triumph of one, but through the union of all. The voices of Italians, Spaniards, Dutch, Slavs, and all the peoples of our great continent are now united in the spirit of democracy, equality, and shared destiny.
We have done the impossible, my fellow europeans. WE HAVE UNITED EUROPE AT LAST!”
There was a collective sigh of joy from the crowd. Some wept, holding each other, their differences forgotten in the light of this new beginning. The flags waved higher, the cheers louder.
Otto looked at the orchestra and nodded. The first stirring notes of Ode to Joy began, and the crowd hushed in reverence. The music filled the air, swelling with the grandeur of the moment, a testament to the unifying power of art and spirit. As the melody built, Otto raised his voice once more, delivering the final, triumphant cry that would be remembered for centuries:
“VIVAT EUROPA!”
The words echoed through Frankfurt, carried by the wind across the streets, the alleys, and into the hearts of every citizen of the new Federation.
“VIVAT EUROPA!” the crowd chanted in response, louder and louder, until it became a deafening roar that could be heard for miles. The ground itself seemed to tremble under the weight of their collective joy.
And then, the chorus began. A choir of voices—representing every nation of the FSE—sang Ode to Joy with a passion that could move mountains. The hymn of unity, penned by Schiller and immortalized by Beethoven, became the anthem of the new Europe. The voices rose, intertwining in perfect harmony, a symbol of the unity that now defined the continent.
The music soared, and as it did, fireworks exploded in the sky above Frankfurt, lighting the night with dazzling colors—blue, gold, and white, the colors of the Federation. The heavens themselves seemed to celebrate alongside the people.
Otto von Habsburg stood there, his hand over his heart, gazing out at the people who had embraced the dream of a unified Europe. He could see the faces of hope, of determination, of pride. This was no longer just a dream. It was real. Europe was united, and nothing would stand in its way again.
As the final notes of Ode to Joy echoed into the night, the celebrations reached a fever pitch. The people of Frankfurt danced in the streets, embracing one another regardless of nationality, language, or creed. For tonight, they were all Europeans. And for the first time in centuries, they believed that peace—real, lasting peace—was possible.
The fireworks continued, but Otto’s thoughts drifted to the future. He knew this was just the beginning. There were challenges ahead—great ones. But with unity, with the strength of their collective will, the Federated States of Europe would stand strong. And under the banner of democracy and monarchy together, they would forge a path forward, not just for Europe, but for the world.
Europe was reborn, and its people would never forget the night they stood as one.
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
6th of June, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
The night fell like a blanket over the Maregyptian desert, cloaking the resistance fighters in a comforting darkness as they huddled in their hideout. The evening had seemed calm, almost deceptively so, until the distant thuds began. At first, the ponies and zebras simply glanced around, confused. But then, as the muffled detonations began drawing closer, every gaze shifted toward the hideout entrance. Something was coming, and it didn’t carry the familiar scent of cordite. Instead, it slithered toward them on the night breeze, carrying a strange, almost metallic sweetness.
A zebra named Kendi was the first to react, lifting a hoof to his nose as his nostrils burned, the inside of his mouth suddenly feeling dry and prickly. "What is that smell?" he muttered, his voice trembling as he tried to mask his growing unease. The others didn’t respond. One by one, they began to sniff the air, wrinkling their faces in discomfort as their eyes began to water.
Azure Light, a pony who had fought alongside Kendi for months, began coughing, her throat raw and tight. "It… it smells… sweet," she rasped, panic flickering across her face. She wiped at her watering eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to clear her vision as an inexplicable itch began spreading across her body.
And then it began.
A zebra beside Azure collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest as his skin began to blister and swell, the fur peeling away as if scorched by an unseen flame. He looked down in horror as the skin on his forelegs began to bubble, turning red and raw. His eyes widened, his face twisted in shock as he tried to brush off the searing sensation that clung to his flesh.
“It’s… it’s eating me!” he screamed, the words ripping through the night as he clawed at his skin, desperate to rid himself of the invisible poison. His hooves tore at his fur, and to his horror, chunks of skin came away with it, leaving raw, bleeding patches in their wake.
The panic spread like wildfire. Azure stumbled back, clutching her own chest as a searing pain began to radiate through her body. She could feel her skin prickling, the sensation spreading up her legs, over her face, and down her back. The strange gas seemed to crawl into her lungs with each breath, its corrosive tendrils sinking deeper into her flesh.
"Get it off me! Get it off!" a voice screamed from the other side of the cave. One of the fighters, a pony named Dust Step, was clawing at his own face, his fur falling away in sticky, matted clumps. His eyes, wide and desperate, locked onto Azure’s as if searching for salvation. But there was none. Only terror and pain.
Kendi, barely able to breathe, felt his hooves give way beneath him as he fell to his knees, his vision blurring as the poison ate away at his strength. He looked around at his comrades, their bodies writhing and contorting in agony as the gas consumed them, their skin and flesh bubbling as if they were melting from the inside out.
"No… please…" Kendi choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper. He tried to crawl toward the entrance, dragging himself across the rough ground with what little strength he had left. But each movement was agony. Every breath, every scrape against the stone floor only made the pain worse as his own skin sloughed away, leaving behind raw, exposed muscle that stung with each agonizing heartbeat.
Azure Light tried to stand, her legs wobbling as she struggled to stay upright. The flesh on her forelegs had turned an angry red, the skin peeling away like bark stripped from a tree. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as she looked around, her heart pounding with a terror she had never known. The others, those who could still move, were clawing at their own bodies, some of them screaming in pain, others simply slumping to the ground, their bodies convulsing as the gas continued its relentless attack.
“It… it’s burning… it won’t stop…” Azure whispered, her voice barely audible as her own strength began to fade. She could feel the gas working its way into her lungs, searing them from the inside, each breath a new wave of pain that left her coughing and gagging. She looked down at her hooves, barely recognizing them as her own as her skin continued to slough away, her body dissolving before her very eyes.
A young zebra, no older than sixteen, stumbled toward Azure, his face twisted in a mask of terror and disbelief. “Why?” he rasped, his voice weak and trembling. “Why are they doing this?”
Azure could only shake her head, tears streaming down her face as she took one last, shuddering breath. She didn’t have an answer. None of them did. All they knew was pain—an unending, all-consuming pain that was beyond anything they could have imagined.
One by one, they fell, the gas reducing them to trembling, broken forms as it ate through flesh and bone alike. The cries that had once filled the hideout grew quieter, fading to weak whimpers and then, finally, to silence. The gas lingered, hanging in the air like a grim specter, its corrosive tendrils snaking through the hideout, leaving nothing untouched.
And outside, just beyond the reach of the deadly cloud, the desert was still. Not even the night wind dared to disturb the horror that had unfolded in the darkness.
The night fell over the Maregyptian desert, blanketing the resistance camp in a tense, fragile quiet. Around the campfires, weary faces exchanged anxious glances, sharing whispered fears and half-formed plans. They had heard the rumors — stories of unspeakable weapons and monstrous machines that the British had unleashed on other resistance cells. But they’d held their ground, clinging to the idea that they could somehow resist, that they had a chance of fighting for their freedom.
Then, the silence shattered.
The first to notice something amiss was a young zebra named Zuri, her ears twitching as she looked up from her spot by the fire. “Do you hear that?” she murmured, glancing around. It was a soft, metallic rustling, faint at first, like chains dragging over the sand. But it grew louder, closer, until the ground itself seemed to thrum with a sinister, creeping energy.
The others stood up, squinting into the darkness, straining to see. And then, slithering toward them like a nightmare come to life, they saw it: black, barbed strands of wire, writhing across the sand, undulating as if it were alive. Hundreds of feet of it, all moving with eerie purpose, advancing on them like some unholy predator.
“What… what the heck is that?” whispered a pony, backing away, eyes wide with terror.
“It’s… it’s alive!” Zuri cried, taking a few stumbling steps backward as the living wire approached. The barbs glinted in the moonlight, razor-sharp and reaching out hungrily. Her heart pounded as the reality sank in — it was no ordinary weapon. This thing was hunting them.
Panic spread like wildfire. Some tried to run, but the wire was fast, faster than they could have ever imagined. It snaked around them, cutting off escape routes, trapping them like rats. Zuri screamed as a length of the wire coiled around her hind leg, the barbs biting into her flesh, digging deeper as it tightened. Blood trickled down her leg, and she kicked frantically, trying to shake it off, but it only wrapped tighter, slicing into her skin.
“Oh, gods! Help me! It’s cutting me!” she shrieked, her voice breaking with terror as she clawed at the wire, only to have it ensnare her other leg.
Another zebra, Duma, tried to pull her free, but a length of wire whipped out, coiling around his arm and yanking him forward. He struggled, gasping as the barbs dug in, slicing through his fur and into the muscle beneath. Blood streamed down his arm, and he bit back a scream, eyes wild with fear.
“Get it off! Get it off me!” he shouted, thrashing against the wire’s grip, but it was relentless, pulling him down into the sand, tangling him further with each struggle.
Others had tried to climb the nearest rocks, but the wire followed, wrapping around legs, hooves, and necks, binding them where they stood. The sharp barbs dug in, ripping through flesh, and the air filled with cries of pain and desperation as they realized that no amount of struggling would free them.
“Why… why is it doing this?” wailed a young mare, her body shaking as she tried to peel the wire from her foreleg, only for it to dig in deeper, twisting and embedding itself into her flesh. Blood poured from the wounds, staining the sand as the wire seemed to pulse, feeding off their terror and pain.
Just when they thought it couldn’t get any worse, a harsh, choking odor drifted in on the breeze, making their eyes water and their throats burn. It was thick, cloying, filling their lungs with a sharp, acrid sting. Someone coughed, hacking and spluttering as the gas took hold, turning every breath into agony.
“Gas… they’ve hit us with gas!” a stallion choked out, his eyes wide with fear as he staggered backward, trying to cover his nose and mouth.
But there was no escape. The mustard gas spread through the camp, thick and relentless, settling over them like a poisonous fog. Eyes burned, skin itched, throats closed up as they gasped for air. Every breath was a struggle, every movement only worsening the suffocating, searing pain that invaded their bodies.
A group of resistance fighters managed to make it to the edge of the camp, only to be met by another wave of horror. Towering over them, looming like titans, were the British Striders. Their tall, mechanical legs thudded against the ground as they advanced, each step sending a shiver through the earth. Miniguns mounted on their frames whirred to life, unleashing a storm of bullets that tore through the air with a deafening roar.
The screams of the fallen filled the night as bullets ripped through flesh and bone, bodies crumpling under the relentless assault. Those who had managed to avoid the gas now faced a merciless hail of gunfire, unable to run, unable to hide. The Striders moved with precision, cutting down anything that moved, ensuring that not a single creature escaped.
From behind a rock, a trembling zebra named Tariq crouched, clutching a small dagger as he watched the horror unfold. His heart hammered in his chest, his entire body shaking with fear. He could feel the gas burning his lungs, feel the sting of barbed wire cutting into his skin, but he forced himself to stay quiet, to stay hidden. He dared not move, dared not breathe too loudly, knowing that the Striders’ sensors would pick up even the slightest sound.
Beside him, a young pony whimpered, clutching a blood-stained bandage around his foreleg. “Tariq… what do we do?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
Tariq could only shake his head, his mind numb with terror. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the distant gunfire and the anguished cries of his comrades. He looked down at his hooves, stained with blood, the reality of their hopeless situation settling over him like a heavy weight. “There’s… there’s nothing we can do.”
The young pony swallowed, his face pale as he glanced around, seeing the bodies of his fallen comrades scattered across the sand. “They’re… they’re killing us all,” he whispered, his eyes wide with horror.
Tariq clenched his jaw, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over. He knew the pony was right. The British had come with weapons beyond anything they could comprehend, machines and gases that tore through them like paper. Resistance was futile. They were powerless, trapped in a nightmare with no way out.
And as the Striders moved through the camp, finishing off any survivors with ruthless efficiency, Tariq felt a sickening sense of despair wash over him. This wasn’t war. It was a slaughter. They were nothing more than insects under the boot of an unstoppable force, crushed without mercy, without pity.
The last sounds he heard before everything faded were the distant thuds of the Striders’ steps, the faint hum of the gas settling over the bodies, and the chilling, agonizing silence of a resistance snuffed out.
West Zebrican Company Official Report
To: Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Her Majesty’s Government
Subject: Final Report on the Maregyptian Resistance Campaign
Date: June 14th, 1962
From the Office of Governor-General Sir Evelyn Baring
In accordance with directives issued by Her Majesty’s Government and the West Zebrican Company, I am pleased to report the following conclusive results in the suppression of Maregyptian resistance.
Our objectives in Maregypt have been fulfilled with exemplary precision and resolve, delivering total security for British interests and future settlements. The concerted efforts of our military, mechanized, and aerial divisions have ensured that this territory, now free of obstruction, stands prepared for British habitation and resource extraction.
The achievements of this operation are as follows:
Village Elimination: Our forces have fully neutralized and eradicated resistance in no fewer than 50 villages that previously harbored dissenting elements.Urban Reclamation: Resistance forces centered in Maregyptian cities have been thoroughly extinguished. As a result, three cities have been eliminated, ensuring full compliance and security across our major operational zones.Casualty Count: Our recorded estimate of Maregyptian losses stands at a minimum of 432,095 confirmed dead . This number represents only those casualties directly counted and confirmed by Company forces.
This campaign stands as a testament to the efficacy and unrelenting resolve of the British Empire in safeguarding its domains. As of this report, Maregypt is fully secured and purged of resistance, ripe for settlement and development. Plans are underway to initiate the next phase, welcoming British citizens to begin populating this promising region under the Company’s governance.
On behalf of the West Zebrican Company, it is my honor to declare Maregypt officially prepared for integration into the Empire’s great legacy.
Signed,
Sir Evelyn BaringGovernor-General of the West Zebrican Company
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
Author's Note
It appears I owe an explanation for my lack of updates to this story.
That being I underwent surgery about 2 weeks ago, vomitted quite a lot, was sent back to the hospital, and promptly ended up being drugged beyond belief by doctors and nurses.
As such, I apologize and I promise I will try and make as many updates as I possibly can to this story in the following days and weeks.
I tip my hat to you, my readers, and hope you enjoy this next chapter!
Chapter 16
20th of June, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
The study was tastefully adorned, a subdued elegance befitting the Queen’s private hours. The air carried the faint scent of polished wood and old parchment, mingled with the lingering aroma of Earl Grey tea. Seated at her desk was Queen Elizabeth, head tilted slightly as she scanned the substantial list of diplomatic invitations sprawled before her. Beside her, standing with a clipboard clutched like a shield against the madness of bureaucracy, was Michael Edward Adeane , her private secretary.
"Well, Michael," Elizabeth began, her voice as measured as her posture, "what’s the tally now?"
Michael gave her a glance that bordered on exasperated disbelief. "Tally, Your Majesty? The tally suggests the entire planet has suddenly become obsessed with tea and biscuits." He picked up a letter from the pile and waved it dramatically. "The River Republic, for instance. Again . Another letter. They've sent five this week! Five!" He tossed the paper back down, its crispness cracking like a whip.
Elizabeth allowed herself a small chuckle. "Surely, it's a sign of goodwill. They’re excited about our—well, my —tour."
"Goodwill, Your Majesty?" Michael raised a brow so sharp it could cut steel. "It’s less goodwill and more naked desperation. Half of these nations want into the League of Nations, the other half want nothing more than to avoid being on Mr. Churchill's ever-growing list of targets for the Imperial steamroller." He muttered, "I suspect they’ve all read the Maregypt reports. Who hasn’t ? Even the pigeons at Trafalgar Square are whispering about gas shells and ‘livewire.’"
Elizabeth gave him a pointed look, but it was softened by a faint smile. "Michael, please. Not so grim. It’s diplomacy, not war."
Michael sighed, placing his palms on the desk. "Forgive me, Ma’am, but after twenty-two years of correspondence, I’ve learned that diplomacy is merely the polite prelude to someone asking for either money or troops. Sometimes both." He straightened up, retrieving another letter. "The Griffonian Empire, for example. That one’s an easy choice, I’d wager. Kaiser Grover V owes his life to the House of Habsburg, and his Empire is the only one on this blasted planet that isn’t pestering us about 'anti-colonial atrocities' or holding riots outside embassies."
Elizabeth nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "Yes, I’ve heard Grover—the young one—has taken quite a liking to playing with Otto’s children."
"Indeed," Michael replied. "If we establish closer ties with the Griffonians, I suspect we’ll also solidify alliances with the Wingbardians and the Herzland states. Besides," he added with a smirk, "they have manners. Old-fashioned, perhaps, but manners nonetheless. The same cannot be said of the River Republic, whose letters reek of carrot stains and revolutionary ideals."
Elizabeth stifled a laugh. "Michael."
"No offense to revolutionary carrots, Your Majesty." Michael picked up another letter. "Ah, Wingbardy. Another straightforward invitation. Their King is desperate for Britain to endorse the nation’s entrance into the Leauge. He emphasies the friendship and treaty of non-belligerence we signed with them via the late Queen. Naturally, he wishes to maintain this friendship."
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly. "Do you think Wingbardy is worth our time?"
Michael tapped the letter against the desk. "Worth our time? No. But worth our presence ? Yes. Better to keep an eye on them than let them embarrass themselves and drag us into some hideous griffon-on-pony disaster."
Elizabeth nodded slowly, her hand resting on the next letter. She hesitated, her expression softening as she spoke. "And what of Equestria? Princess Twilight’s letter seemed genuine. She even thanked us for supporting the Crystal Empire’s relief efforts we permitted in Maregypt."
Michael groaned quietly, leaning back in his chair. "Ah, yes. The idealistic unicorn with wings. I’m sure her letter was positively dripping with gratitude and moral superiority." He glanced at Elizabeth’s raised brow and quickly added, "But of course, Your Majesty, it’s only natural that we acknowledge her. Especially since her Crystal Empire has been rather generous. Free aid and not a single sanctimonious lecture? A rarity these days."
Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap. "Michael, I don’t think we should dismiss her sincerity. Relations with Equestria are important, especially as the Federated States of Europe is bored with them on Equus. I daresay, we’re cultural neighbours, in a sense."
"Neighbors, Ma’am?" Michael muttered under his breath. "The sort of neighbors who’d invite you over to tea just to make sure you’re not stealing their carrots." He sighed, his voice sharpening again. "Equestria’s invitation does make sense, though. If we turn them down, we risk souring relations with a nation that, frankly, has far too many eyes on us already. Let’s not forget, their Princess has been reading every IBC report about Maregypt, I’m sure."
Elizabeth frowned slightly. "And do you think she’ll bring it up?"
Michael gave her a withering look. "Oh, undoubtedly. I can already hear the passive-aggressive moralizing. ‘Oh, Your Majesty, how lovely your hat is today. By the way, is it true your soldiers invented a disease that eats through fur?’" He clucked his tongue. "It’ll be a delightful afternoon, I’m sure."
Elizabeth sighed, but her smile lingered. "Michael, we’ve dealt with worse."
"Indeed, Ma’am," Michael replied dryly. "But worse usually involved champagne and fewer lectures on ethics."
Elizabeth leaned forward, her voice taking on a firmer tone. "Michael, I want this tour to be about building bridges. Yes, the world is watching us, and yes, there’s plenty of criticism. But that’s all the more reason to extend a hand—even to those who may scold us."
Michael pursed his lips, reluctantly nodding. "Very well, Your Majesty. The Griffonian Empire first, then Wingbardy, after that we go Europe, and then finally Equestria. Do I have that correct?”
The Queen nodded.
“A balanced itinerary, then. I’ll inform the Foreign Office and prepare the necessary correspondence." He stood, gathering the letters with a sigh as he bowed his head.
Elizabeth chuckled softly. "Thank you, Michael."
As her secretary left, muttering something about 'winged unicorns and self-righteous speeches,' Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting to the window overlooking the palace gardens. The weight of the Crown was heavier now than it had ever been, but she resolved to carry it with grace—even if it meant sipping tea with a moralizing alicorn.
21st of June, 1007 ALB (1962 AD)
The lounge room was an elegant yet comfortable space, adorned with tapestries of Equestria's greatest achievements and a roaring fire in the hearth. Celestia sat on a chaise longue, her golden regalia glinting softly in the firelight, her expression a careful mask of calm. Beside her, Luna sat upright, her darker features illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window. Across from them, Prince Blueblood reclined on a velvet chair, his posture a picture of disdainful boredom.
The door burst open with a jarring thud, and in came Twilight Sparkle, her face lit with the sort of glee typically reserved for discovering a new spell or being praised by Celestia herself. A thick envelope from the Foreign Office floated beside her in her magical grasp.
"I have fantastic news!" Twilight beamed, trotting to the center of the room.
Celestia raised a brow but said nothing, waiting for Twilight to spill her excitement. Luna tilted her head, curious. Blueblood merely sighed and waved a hoof in exaggerated disinterest.
"Britain has accepted our invitation!" Twilight announced, almost hopping in place. "Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth herself will be visiting Equestria as part of her diplomatic tour!"
For a moment, the room was silent. Celestia’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Luna blinked, her features betraying a mixture of intrigue and concern. Blueblood’s reaction was less subtle.
"Why in Equestria would we want to host those warmongering apes in the first place?" Blueblood scoffed, his tone dripping with contempt. "Let them enjoy their massacres and their colonies. What possible benefit could their visit bring us ?"
Twilight’s enthusiasm faltered as she glared at Blueblood. "Benefit? How about not antagonizing the most advanced and militarized nation we’ve ever encountered, Blueblood? Or maybe the chance to build a relationship that could secure our place in the League of Nations and help defend us against, oh, I don’t know, the Changeling Kingdom right on our border?"
Blueblood rolled his eyes. "Please, Twilight. You’re overreacting. No self-respecting nation would ally with those barbarians. They poison their enemies, destroy entire cities, and crush their colonies under iron hooves—or boots, as they call them. They’re little better than the Russians, if you ask me."
"Well, no one asked you," Twilight snapped, her tone uncharacteristically sharp.
Celestia raised a hoof, silencing the budding argument. Her voice was calm but carried a distinct edge. "Enough. Twilight, while I admire your enthusiasm, I must admit I share some of Blueblood’s... reservations."
Twilight looked at Celestia, startled. "You do?"
Celestia sighed, her composure slipping just enough to reveal a hint of bitterness. "Twilight, I was present at the signing of the Canterlot Accords. I saw the way their diplomats treated the ponies of Stalliongrad. Pragmatic, yes, but their complete disregard for compassion, for harmony, was appalling. And now their actions in Maregypt only reinforce my concerns. Entire villages eradicated, an entire people subjugated for resources. It’s hard to welcome a nation whose values are so... alien to ours."
"But, Princess," Twilight interjected, her voice earnest, "we can’t afford to alienate them either. Yes, their actions are terrible, but they’re also powerful—too powerful to ignore. If we shun them, we risk being isolated, maybe even targeted. Besides, this could be our chance to influence them, to show them there’s another way."
Luna nodded slowly. "Twilight speaks wisely, sister. While I, too, find their methods abhorrent, I see the value in diplomacy. The humans respect strength and strategy. By forging a relationship, we position ourselves as equals, not adversaries." She paused, her gaze thoughtful. "And we do have the Changelings to consider. A single alliance with Britain could dissuade Queen Chrysalis from testing our borders."
Celestia frowned but gave a slight nod, acknowledging Luna’s point.
Twilight seized the opportunity, looking at all three of them. "Exactly! We don’t have to like what they’ve done, but we need to show them that Equestria is strong and worthy of respect. And for that to happen, we need to be on our best behavior. All of us." Her gaze lingered pointedly on Blueblood.
Blueblood let out an exaggerated groan. "Oh, spare me the lecture, Twilight. I wasn’t the one who invited them in the first place."
Twilight’s ears folded back, a sheepish smile replacing her earlier frustration. "Well, actually... that was me."
Celestia blinked, her brow furrowing in surprise. "You sent the invitation? Without consulting me?"
Twilight’s cheeks turned pink, and she scuffed a hoof against the floor. "I... may have used my authority as a princess. But only because I thought it was the right thing to do! And... it worked?"
Celestia sighed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment before responding. "Twilight, you acted without informing me, but you are a princess, and your judgment is sound." She opened her eyes and looked at Twilight with a mixture of sternness and understanding. "I just hope you’re prepared for what this visit will entail. The humans are not like us. Their world is built on conquest and pragmatism, not harmony and friendship."
Twilight straightened her posture, determination shining in her eyes. "I’ve done my research, Princess. I know what we’re dealing with. But I also know that we can’t let our differences stop us from trying to build a better future."
Luna smiled faintly. "You have grown wise, Twilight Sparkle. Let us hope your optimism is not misplaced."
Blueblood snorted, crossing his forelegs. "Fine. I’ll hold my tongue about Maregypt. But if they start lecturing us about governance or technology, don’t expect me to sit there and nod like a trained monkey."
"Thank you, Blueblood," Twilight said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your restraint is truly an inspiration."
Celestia stood, her regality returning in full force. "Then it’s settled. We will host Queen Elizabeth with all the grace and dignity Equestria is known for. But Twilight, I trust you to take the lead on this. After all, it was your idea."
Twilight nodded eagerly, her confidence restored. "I won’t let you down, Princess."
As the meeting adjourned, Twilight felt a mix of relief and anticipation. The visit from the British Queen was not just a diplomatic gesture—it was a chance to secure Equestria’s future in a world that was rapidly changing. Whether the humans could be allies or simply a force to appease remained to be seen. But one thing was certain: the stakes had never been higher.
Onto Old Glory: An Imperial Timeline
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. 