Black Powder

Lillibullero

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Day

-525

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Lillibullero

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It was ironic that they would train on these grassy plains. The normally bright green plains of Lillibullero were now swarming with the red, cyan, and white coats of the Karalian Army.

Rat...boom...tat...boom...rat tat tat tat tat tat...boom...

Rat...boom...tat...boom...rat tat tat tat tat tat...boom...

Second Lieutenant Thunder Coy watched as the six-file column of a foal conscript regiment marched passed his stationary formation, keeping in step with the drummer as the little colt played the Republican Army's signature drum cadence on a snare. The hooves of the little ponies pounded into the cobbled road, synchronizing them with the beat of the drum. All of them looked sharp in formation, keeping perfect dress and cover while maintaining a steady half-step by bringing their knees up high with every hoof stomp.

He adjusted his black Hoof Guard cap that sat like a black tower on his head with a small hole for his horn. The yellow unicorn watched in grim reminiscence. This was such a sadistic way to weed out officer cadets.

In the next ten years, those young foals would be one of two things. Either dead on the battlefield, or commissioned second lieutenants like himself.

As much as he enjoyed his officer rank, he hated being a conscript cadet. They took him away from his family, treated him terribly, and tried to get him killed. The road of a Karalian officer was a rough one, compared to the enlisted, which was made up of a mix of volunteers and conscripts, depending on the regiment. In contrast though, commissioned officers had it good once they made it through that. Coy was now well-trained, experienced, and the pay was excellent.

He snapped himself out of his stupor as he remembered that his regiment was supposed to march after the 2nd Foal Conscripts. He looked over to his left and at the front of the ranks, a pair of green eyes winked to him and looked away.

The captain of his regiment was an old friend of his from their time with the cadets. Both of them were young, hardly stallions, yet received an immense amount of respect for their experience as every Karalian officer did. His friend was a young brown earth pony named Blaze. Some of the other cadets would joke that both him and Blaze had pegasus names and yet neither of them had wings. No one could ever figure what Blaze's last name was, and whenever somepony asked him, he would tell them that he didn't have one. It was then when Coy realized that his brown friend was recruited out of an orphanage. His friend was almost as odd as Coy was silent.

Thunder was not much of a talker.

"Battalion!" the captain sounded off.

"Company!" the other lieutenant on the left flank shouted.

"Company!" Thunder signaled by shaking his flank side to side, from the right wing of the formation.

"March!" Blaze barked out from the center.

All three drew their curved swords and shouldered them as they marched in step with the red-coated formation they commanded.

And just like that, the 8th Karalian Hoof Guards was on the move.

"That song," he thought as he listened to its melody, keeping his eyes stoic and facing front.

"Of course we would play that song here. It's so fitting. In fact, I wonder if the Equestrians can hear it from over the border."

Thunder Coy smirked a bit at the irony.

Hundreds of years before the first Hearth's Warming Day, the three pony tribes of unicorn, pegasi, and earth pony, still lived in relative peace, their trust not scheduled to deteriorate until a few generations down the line. The land that those ancient ponies settled is today, the border between southern Equestria and northern Karalia.

The border that Blaze's Hoof Guards were a mere twenty miles away from.

Back then, each tribe would keep a mandated number of slaves in their possession to perform hard labor or other menial tasks. These ponies were usually selected out of the populations of each tribe respectively and were chosen from the orphanages, the lower class, convicted felons, and other sources. Otherwise the 'expendable' portion of ponies were forced into slavery.

Depending on the master, the slaves may have been treated well or neglected and abused. It was usually the latter.

As the centuries went by and distrust festered, an unexplained winter hit and malcontent between the tribes broke out. The slaves felt the most negative impact of the conflict. They were forced to work harder to produce food or build walls and protection from the blizzards. There were even cases of slaves being used as sacrifices to appeal to the gods that didn't exist, to stop the frozen onslaught. Indeed, as desperation within the tribes grew, the harsh treatment of servants had only gotten worse. Any slaves that the master had decided that weren't working hard enough or those that disobeyed, were flogged and left out in the cold.

Any slave that tried to run was sent to hang.

After witnessing the atrocities done to their fellow pony, the tension between the slaves and their handlers had reached a breaking point. Much of the lower classes and vigilantes began to protest the treatment of the slaves, mainly by complaining but some went as far as helping some pony slaves escape. As the servants became more self-aware after being bolstered by support within the tribes, slave riots began to break out. Instead of appeasement, the ruling class resorted to oppression by force.

Protesters turned into rioters, and rioters into revolutionaries.

...And those revolutionaries became Karalians.

The new rebel army, made up of slaves, vigilantes and other turncoats, fled into the countryside. They hoped to lose the future Equestrians amongst the plains, and set up a new land for themselves. But the loyalists were relentless. In their frustration with the blizzards, any compassion that they might have had was rotted away by this time. They decided to make an example of the rebels and crush them immediately.

Thirty-seven thousand rebels camped on the high-ground on the ridge of a large hill that overlooked the snow-covered plains below.

The plains of Lillibullero.

Fifty thousand of the best loyalist troops that the tribes could scrape together were sent to obliterate the rebels.

Many of the loyalists were pompous and over confident.

The dissenters had no discipline, no organization. This wasn't an army, it was a rabble of idiotic ponies. They would surely break and run just at the sight of the combined tribal army marching towards them. For the loyalists, this was the easiest mission in the world.

At least, that's what it was supposed to be...

The tribesponies first tried to turn the rebels' flanks and even slip in from behind but the revolutionary pegacav was deployed on the wings of the rebel positions to check such movements. The rebels had adequate supplies after raiding the tribes' stores out of spite before they left. Also, the ridge itself could sustain them with the vegetation that hadn't been frozen yet, and the loyalists had not brought enough supplies to sustain a siege.

Left with no other options, the loyalists launched a three-pronged attack on the ridge. It was a simple, and straightforward attack.

Twenty-five thousand loyalists moved to bash open the center, eight thousand assorted race ponies each to pinch both the left and right flanks, four thousand pegasi to check the rebel pegacav and keep them from flanking the assault forces, and a five thousand unicorn infantry reserve in the center.

The former slaves and vigilantes were ready for them.

Marching across the field, the tribesponies were taking massed arrow volleys before they could even reach the foot of the ridge. Getting up the ridge was another bloody affair, and after taking nearly seven thousand casualties from the arrows fired into the field, the morale of the loyalist ponies was beginning to wane. As they got closer, the rebel unicorns were now firing their short-range death bolts in deadly volleys that tore through the attacking formations.

The experience of the attacker was a dreadful one. The cries of comrades stuck by arrows or blasted by unicorn volleys was deafening. The stench of blood and sweaty bodies filled their nostrils, while the sparkly and almost smoky discharge from the rebel unicorns' horns effectively made it impossible to see the enemy in front of them. Whenever a death bolt volley came rolling in, the sharp crack of the horns made the hearts of the attackers jump with fear, praying that they wouldn't be the ones that got hit.

After reaching the crest of the ridge and taking more horrific arrow fire, the tribesponies were met with a wall of spears that counter-charged down the hill, using the momentum to smash through the ranks of the exhausted loyalists. The unicorns that were firing down upon them took this time to retreat to the reverse slope of the hill and waited there as a reserve. There they would wait until the spear-ponies were cleared of the ridge and then they would take to the high ground once again and provide cover fire, should the rebels need to pull back.

The rebel pegacav used their superior numbers to overpower and shatter the morale of the four thousand loyalist pegasi send to stall them. With the tribes' pegacav depleted and routing, their flanks were now exposed. With renewed pegacav charges, the loyalists were now being attacked in three different directions, all of them with momentum against them. This caused their forces to be caught off-balance.

Remaining pegasi within the assault forces tried to counter-charge the rebel cavalry from the wings but didn't have the momentum nor the remaining numbers to put up an effective resistance.

The battle had turned into a mass rout.

Rebels cut down retreating loyalists by the hundreds as they tried to retreat. The loyalist unicorn reserve tried to provide cover fire for the retreat but couldn't differentiate between friend and foe in the mass rabble of ponies in front of them. Their supposed cover fire was accidentally cutting down more allies than enemies.

Not long after, the rebels had reached the unicorn reserve, heavily outnumbering and simply overwhelming them with a frontal charge. Soon, the reserve broke after nearly losing half their number and joined their comrades in the rout.

The loyalists tried to reform into a glob rather than a formation, but by this time only twenty-one thousand of them were left all together and the rebels had only taken twenty-five hundred casualties. Bravely but stupidly, the loyalists all came together for one last charge at the advancing rebels that now outnumbered them. Both sides clashed in a straight-up, head-to-head, mess.

Unit cohesion on both sides began falling apart as individual fights now took precedence. Except for the rebel pegacav, which withdrew to the flanks to reform and strike at the rear of the loyalist glob, effectively surrounding them. The rebels used their superior numbers, positioning and most importantly, spirit, to overpower the loyalists and bled their numbers dry.

By the time the fighting had stopped, the revolutionaries had claimed a crushing victory over their oppressors.

Over six thousand loyalists had surrendered and nine thousand more never returned from routing. The rest, numbering at around thirty-five thousand, were slaughtered.

The rebels only lost fifty-seven hundred and some change throughout the entire affair.

That was how the battle for Karalia's independence from the tyrannical future Equestrians was won on the plains of Lillibullero.

That song...

It was mocking those malicious and bastardous Equestrians for their embarassing defeat at the hooves of the righteous Karalians. That was why the song was written after all, to make fun of the Equestrians.

Coy and most other Karalian ponies were very proud of their ancestors and the feelings of patriotism towards the Republic was strong within the nation. That piece of history was the reason why he and Blaze felt honored to take part in this upcoming campaign.

The province of Red Mane within Equestria has risen against that evil country as well. Those poor souls were crying out to the Karalians, like a younger sibling who had been bullied. Even better, was the fact that Red Mane wanted to form a republic, just like Karalia. Feeling like the protective big brother, the Karalians were more than happy to come to the aid of friends that were suffering under Equestria's tyranny.

The Red Maners reminded the Karalians of themselves, an oppressed group struggling to obtain freedom that could only be found by spilling their own blood in sacrifice. And against the same vile ponies as well. The mix of righteous hate for the Equestrians, sympathy for Red Mane, and the potential spread of a republican agenda and ideals, were more than enough to convice Karalia to take action.

Red Mane had already declared war on Equestria.

And in one week, the proud and glorious superpower nation would join them in their quest for freedom. It was now time to show the Equestrians the error of their ways, the time to set things right.

Justice would be done.

In a week's time, the Republic of Karalia would declare war on the Principality of Equestria.