The British Grenadiers

by James Koach

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Adventure
Length: 13827

With the War of 1812 raging overseas, the British forces are desperately sailing from France to meet their new enemies. Major Verulam was tasked to get reinforcements for the 82nd Foot, but something goes wrong on the way back to Plymouth.

With peace finally setting down on the vast fields of Europe, the British finally are able to turn and face their enemies overseas. The Americans have declared war on the United Kingdom, and now that Napoleon was defeated, the mighty Redcoats had the chance to take revenge and retake the American colonies in the name of His Majesty King George III.

Major James Verulam, of the 82nd Regiment of Foot, was tasked to return to England with his company and pick up reinforcements. However, on their way back to Plymouth, the fifes and drums go silent, as an evil and discordant power drags the redcoats into a foreign, unknown land.

[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/19421115/Warband%20Textures/82nd/divider.png[/img]

A/N: Although I am not new to writing (well, sort of), this is the first FiM fiction I've published on the internet. Therefore, I would appreciate all constructive criticism. Be harsh with this one, and if you find anything that could be improved, do please tell me in the comments.

Also, I am trying to keep the British as historically accurate as possible. I've read quite a few books about the Napoleonic era, and this is the best reproduction of a British Redcoat company I could get. However, I am certain I've committed a few mistakes here and there, and I would be thankful if you help me find those mistakes and fix them.

In this story I've included several songs and audio files to add up to the narration. I recommend you get some headphones or speakers ready.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-17 22:09:03 UTC

His Majesty's Soldiers

"All the business of war, and indeed all the business of life, is to endeavour to find out what you don't know by what you do; that's what I called 'guess what was at the other side of the hill.'"

-Sir Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington

On the afternoon of the 24th of May, the forest of King’s Wood seemed unremarkable. The sounds of birds and animals living in harmony with the environment engulfed the vast green woodlands, as the living critters spent their time in joy, not having to worry of any danger or problem at all. It was a quite nice spring afternoon, with not a single cloud on the sky, and the sun slowly making way for his white partner to take his place. However, not everyone could take the liberty to enjoy the day. Within a few minutes, the lull that kept King’s Wood as a peaceful and harmonious environment was corrupted with the sound of drums, fifes and shoes, as the British Army marched through the woodland road.

All across Great Britain the war effort had caused the recruitment and training of thousands of soldiers, who were then embarked in a ship and sent to fight the French in Spain. But this time around, the enemies were no longer the blue-coated Frenchmen. The war with Napoleon came to an end after the siege and capture of Toulouse, and now His Majesty’s army turned to meet their other enemies, the Americans. Due to innumerable casualties in the peninsular campaign, the British forces were in a dire need for reinforcements. The eighty second regiment of foot, in particular, had lost hundreds of men within the last few months, and due to their heavy losses, the Grenadier company of the first battalion was sent home a week before the French surrender.

It was this same company, believe it or not, the one disturbing the quietness and peace that used to be present in that unremarkable forest in Devonshire. One hundred and twenty seven men, armed to the teeth and clad in bright red coats, white trousers and tall, black shakos, marched through the narrow dirt road that cut through the endless walls of vegetation. They were formed up in a column, divided into ten sections, each marching in a two-rank deep line, one section behind the other. Each of these small groups was commanded by a serjeant, men who were fairly notorious amongst the other soldiers, simply because they carried long, pointy pikes, as opposed to a musket.

At the very front of the column, four gentlemen stood out from the rest. Two of them, the ensigns, were very young commissioned officers. These ensigns, despite their young age, were tasked with the single most important task in the entire company: Protecting the colours, the 82nd’s most valuable and important devices. One of these boys, Mister Jacobson, was the bearer of the Regimental Colours. It was a yellow flag, with a Union Jack in the canton and a big rose wreath in the centre, which surrounded the symbol of the Prince of Wales. The other lad, Mister Woodworm, who was a few years older than his fellow man, carried the King’s colours, a union jack with a rose wreath in the centre. Inside this wreath, there was a small red shield, which had written ‘LXXXII REGT’ in the inside, with the Prince of Wales’ plume above it.

In front of the ensigns, the major and captain of the Grenadier Company led the column on horseback.  The major, Lord James Verulam, was the man in charge of delivering this column to the naval port of Plymouth, where a ship was waiting for their arrival. He was a fairly tall man, with auburn eyes and long brown hair, which was tied up into a ponytail. Like most members of the British nobility, James was a very rich and well educated gentleman. Loyal to his king and country, he purchased his commission in 1807, and took part in the peninsular campaign as the second in command of the 82nd Regiment’s Grenadiers.

Next to him rode the newly gazetted captain of the Grenadier Company, Mister Williams. This man, as opposed to the other officers, did not get promoted to captain. Instead, he purchased his captaincy in 1813, without any prior experience in the army. He was immediately assigned to the 82nd Regiment’s second battalion, the reserves, and thrown into a smelly training camp in Lancashire, where he supervised and organized the training of new recruits. He pretty much hated his life at this point. However, he was also a very good liar when it came to dealing with women, and it is fair to say that he was quite good inventing fake battle anecdotes, with the sole purpose of getting him in bed with a lady.

***

The column advanced steadily through the woodland road. The sounds of fifes and drums echoed in the soldiers' hearts, as the musicians were playing a quite sentimental and meaningful tune: 'The Minstrel Boy'. It was a fairly new Irish song, which told the story of a young Irish boy who joined the ranks of the British army, and died in battle. Most of the men there could relate to that situation, as many lost friends and relatives in the war against France. It did, however, raise their spirits. Music always helped the men marching forward, since it allowed them to have fun singing along and sharing laughs and giggles, rather than complaining about their feet hurting or being uncomfortable.

In the very front of the column, James and Williams were discussing their next course of action. The sun was going down, and sooner or later the men will need to eat and rest. Lord Verulam knew there was a town nearby where they could spend the night and buy some supplies, and mentioned the fact to his second in command. Williams, having no idea where to go otherwise, agreed with his commander, and both settled to take a small detour from their route and head towards a town named Buckfastleigh, which was situated but a few miles east of King’s Woods.

James estimated it would take about an hour to arrive at Buckfastleigh. Given the rough terrain of this road, and the fact that it wasn't particularly straight, made the journey quite exhausting and slow. But most of all, it was starting to feel a bit out of place as well. After one and a half hours of constant marching, the Grenadiers were still deep into the woods, with no sign of an exit. It made no sense at all, since the entire forest road was merely a few miles long, but they had been marching for hours, and it never seemed to end.

"Uh... Milord... Did we take a wrong turn or something?" asked Jacobson, who was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation at that point. Williams then turned to face him and formulated a reply.

"I really doubt it, Mister Jacobson. And even if we did turn the wrong way, we should have left King's Wood hours ago..." He trailed off, concerned and slightly afraid of the situation. "Something here is wrong. We've been marching in circles all this time."

"I will argue against that, captain", said James in a serious tone. "This road, yet not perfectly straight, always leads to an exit. I've been here countless times before, and let me tell you, sir, something is very, very-" Out of nowhere, a loud growling silenced the major's voice. Both the major's and captain's horses stopped dead in their tracks, and began looking in all directions, terrified. "Serjeant major! Halt the column!" yelled the captain, completely startled by the noise. His order echoing through the ranks as the serjeant major shouted the order to halt.

"I did not like that, Mister Williams... Not one bit. We better dismount, I do not wish my horse to throw me face first into the dirt", suggested the major. Both officers dismounted and handed the horses to the colour serjeants, who were marching alongside the ensigns.

It was all silent now. The musicians stopped playing their music, the soldiers didn't say a word. Soon, another loud growling breaks the silence. Some of the men start to shake in fear. Others, simply stand at attention, doing their best to ignore their feelings. The ensigns were both terrified, and despite the colour serjeants' comforting words, they were simply out of their senses. They were merely fifteen and seventeen years old. Too young for this kind of horrors.

"Orders, milord?" asked the serjeant major, doing his best to look professional. The  officer looked at him confused, without any idea on what to do. Giving up and not having any better idea, he resolved to do what he thought was adequate for the situation.

"Have the men form a square by the fifth section. Colours, musicians and our horses in the centre, if you please".

"Certainly, milord." He turned to face the column and raised his voice. "Infantry will form a square! By the fifth section, FORM!"

Without losing any time, the Grenadier Company quickly formed up in a square formation. Since the road was very small, they had to expand into the forest, forming up in between the trees. The ensigns and musicians moved inside the square, followed by the other officers, the colour serjeants and the horses.

"Company! Fix bayonets!" ordered Lord Verulam. The men obliged, deploying their long steel knives on their muskets' muzzles.

More silence. After the noise of metal hitting metal ceased, not a sound could be heard. A few moments later, and out of nowhere, the wind picked up a massive strength. The Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers' colours were now waving furiously, showing themselves proudly and gallantly.

The officers, now quite shaken by this indescribable and strange turn of events, drew their swords from the scabbards. James, not wanting to take any chances, pulled out his flintlock pistol with his left hand, and held it ready to fire at the first threat he encountered. Williams and the three lieutenants in the square did the same, not having any better idea.

Things began getting more and more bizarre, and it didn't seem like that would change any time soon. In fact, it looked like time had gone absolutely crazy at this point. Day and night, swapping from one to the other within seconds. In one of the lieutenants' pockets, a golden watch had gone mad as well, and was hastily turning it's little hands, in an attempt to follow the odd day-night cycle.

The men of the 82nd Regiment were extremely confused, and kept on trading looks as the sun and moon fought over their presence in the sky. Trying his best to remain calm, the major closed his eyes for a moment and tried his best to think a way out of this. However, due to all the stress he had, it was impossible for him to think. He was, however, interrupted by a loud and evil sounding laughter. He darted his eyes open and looked around, seeking the source of that voice.

"Oh... what do we have here?" That same male voice said out of nowhere. It was echoing through the woods, and it was not possible for any of the men to determine it's origin. It's American accent immediately put the men on guard. "The silly humans think they actually can resist?! Hahahahaha! This is marvellous! Simply hilarious!"

"Who goes there?! Show yourself you ruffian!" yelled the commanding officer. It only caused the voice to giggle.

"Hahaha! You would really like that, don't you, James? What? Do you think I am stupid or something?"

"Why are you doing this?! We have done nothing to you! In the name of King George of England, come out of your hole!"

"Tsk, tsk... Ah... Jamie... when will you learn? You cant defeat me... After all, you are the British Redcoats... the mere scum of the earth"

"Oh you will pay for those words, sir! Come on, coward! Come out so we can have a duel! Let us solve this like gentlemen, if you have any sense of  honour, that is!"

"A DUEL?! HAHAHAHA! Oh my that was a good joke, Jamie! And the whole "honour" thing... Priceless!"

"Enough of this foolishness! What do you want from us, if I may ask?!"

"Oh... not much, my dear. You see, you gentlemen are important, okay? And therefore, you must die. Simple as that."

A sharp feeling of fear hit the men upon hearing those words. The gentleman took a second to think his reply, but knowing he didn't have any other option, and that they were surely upon an unavoidable fate, he spoke again. "We will not go down without a fight, and you know it! Come on, show yourself and show us what you've got!"

"Oh... I am sorry, my poor Jamie, but I have to attend some business elsewhere. Chaos is so fantastic, and it can't be limited to a single place." As he pronounced those words, a thick, dark fog began brewing around the formation. The noise of wood twisting and breaking took over, as an awful smell made it's way to the men's noses. "I must get going now. Have fun with the timber wolves, gents! Ta ta!"

And just like that, his voice was replaced by growls and howls. The senior officers cocked their pistols and got ready to shoot.

"Company, make ready!" yelled the serjeant major. The men fully cocked their muskets and got ready to fire. The front row of the square took a kneeling position, allowing the back rank to fire above them. "Present!" They all proceeded to level their muskets, aiming at the fog. The tension in the ranks was almost palpable. Lord Verulam spoke up in a commanding tone. "Infantry will fire at will at any moving object! If it moves, you shoot it!"

Then, out of the fog, came running a wolf looking creature, jumping directly at one of the men in the square. About five men discharged their muskets at the beast, only one managed to hit it, though. The wolf fell right on top of one of the men, and it's dead body disintegrated, turning itself into wooden sticks and splinters. The men were shocked.

Three more of those things ran into sight, heading straight towards the square in a great display of fearlessness. The men opened fire, killing only two of the beasts. The third lounged towards one of the privates and dug it's wooden teeth into his arm. The ranker cried in pain as he fell to the ground. The man next to him kicked the wolf on its 'ribs' from the side, then as the wooden creature ran back, he struck his bayonet deep into the monster's head. Just like the others, the body turned into branches, sticks and splinters.

A loud howl gave the signal for the rest of the wolves to attack. Almost three dozen of those demons charged the square. The infantry, despite their constant musket fire, would not be able to hold them for long. They stabbed them, they shot them, they kicked and smacked them with their muskets' stocks, but the damned things kept coming.

In the midst of the battle, one of the musicians, a fifer, was hesitating about an idea he had. Deciding there was no use, and that it wouldn't really matter anyway, he put away his sword and grabbed his beloved instrument. He placed it on his mouth, and began playing a tune, 'Men of Harlech'. It was a song dedicated to the defenders of Harlech castle during the War of the roses. The other musicians recognized the tune, and without asking any questions, they grabbed their fifes and drum sticks and began playing along, in their best attempt to raise the men's morale.

The rankers and officer also recognized the tune. The major, in particular, had listened to it before, in another battle back in Spain. He knew that song very well, and without thinking twice, he mounted his horse and began shouting.

"Come on lads! Push these demonic creatures back into their holes! Let then feel the might of King George's Army! Let them taste our lead as it tears through their veins, let them feel our bayonets as they pierce their hearts! Show these ruffians how they should never insult the Prince of Wales' Own! In the name of His Majesty the King! HOLD THE SQUARE! HOLD IT YOU BUGGERS!"

Loud cheers from the red coated men erupted all over the formation, as one by one, the timber wolves fell. The square held for ten more minutes, incredibly, with no man getting killed at all. Those who were injured were brought inside the square and quickly replaced by another person. The music kept on playing, but was almost silenced by the screaming and hollering of the Grenadiers. Soon, the attack was finally repelled, and the wooden creatures retreated into the fog.

For one minute, the square remained silent and on guard, ready to receive another charge. However, it never came, and the fog slowly began dissipating. Still weary of their surroundings, the men stood still in their positions, bracing their bayonets and ready for another strike.

Slowly, a light blue aura emerged from the ground beneath the square, surrounding it completely. James, still weary of what was going to happen, decided it would be for the best to stay inside the lights, rather than leaving the area. He didn't really know the reason, but that thing below him did not look menacing at all. In fact, he and the other men felt quite comfortable inside the blue circle that now surrounded them completely.

From the centre of that circle, right below Williams, somewhat of a logo was formed by the light. The major, curious about this strange apparition, dismounted from his horse and walked directly at the glowing icon. With a closer inspection, he noticed it looked like somewhat of a coat of arms, which contained two winged horses, flying around the sun and moon. The white horse was flying towards the sun, while the darker one, towards the moon.

What happened next is very hard to explain. The light blue glow that surrounded the square turned white, and an extremely bright flash blinded the entire company. Many of the men began crying in pain, as the light hurt their eyes.

James opened his eyes and found himself on the ground, the other officers surrounding him. Williams stretched out his right hand and helped the major get up from the dirt. Everything seemed back to normal now. The forest was still there, the sun was fixed into the sky, no longer arguing with the moon, the fog and horrible stench were gone too.

However, something was different. When he paid a closer attention at his surroundings, James noticed the forest looked fairly different from King's Wood. The most obvious change was the season, as the entire place was covered in brown and orange leaves, which kept on falling and falling from above the square. And also, there was another small change: By the edge of the road, there was a small wooden sign post. From afar, it looked fairly normal, but when the red coated man gave it a closer look, he stared at it confused. It had a small horseshoe nailed on the top, and had the words "Ponyville: 20 miles" engraved on it's front.

His Majesty's... Horses?

"I don't know what effect these men will have upon the enemy, but, by God, they frighten me"

-Sir Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington

The colourful autumn forest that surrounded the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers seemed to be full of cheerful life and prosperous vegetation. The orange and yellow falling leaves danced along with the wind as the men played beautiful songs with their whistles and drums. The birds and animals played through the tree branches and shrubs, completely unafraid of the red coated intruders, who seemed to be enjoying their company as they admired the natural charms of this new land. The square was now broken, and the grenadiers were allowed to fall out and rest. Most of them were gathered on the side of the road, as a few talented ones played their sweet Irish melodies, telling the stories of old times in the army.

The sun, despite it's low position in the sky, still managed to brighten up the forest road. It's orange light gracefully slipped through the falling leaves, illuminating the trees and shrubs beneath. However, the moon slowly began taking over his place in the firmament, displaying her majestic white brightness for all the men to behold. Minute by minute, the dim orange light began dissipating, making way for the night's obscuring darkness. Now, only a few torches around the grenadiers kept the road bright and visible.

It soon became obvious that, despite the possibility to set up camp in the forest, the grenadiers couldn't stay there for the night. These woods were completely unknown, and the officers did not want to take the risk. During the little time they spent in the forest, the high command had been debating over their next course of action, and it was decided that the 82nd Regiment would march towards the town of Ponyville, which according to the wooden sign post by the road, was merely two miles away from the company's current location. It was also decided that, for the sake of the unit's safety, the grenadiers would be marching ready for battle, with their firelocks loaded and bayonets fixed on their muzzles.

James and Williams, as opposed to the other officers under their command, had another little problem to deal with. After their arrival to this place, their two mounting stallions had suffered a quite shocking mutation. Their eyes were far bigger than before, while their faces became oval-shaped. Their hooves, legs and bodies had increased in size, making them look "tougher", to a certain extent, yet quite comical and harmless. Their manes had lost their trademark loose style as well, and now resembled something similar to a human haircut. All in all, they looked more like big, overgrown ponies rather than horses.

***

  The officers were still arguing over the final details of their plans when one of the colour serjeants interrupted their discussion. He strode towards his superiors hastily, wearing a concerned look on his face and trying to figure out how to explain what was going on.

"Excuse me, milord, gentlemen, may I have a word with you?"

"I am sorry, Colour Johnson, but we are in a bit of an important discussion here. I am sure it can wait," replied Lord Verulam

"That I understand, milord, but I wouldn't be interrupting you unless this was an important matter."

The officers traded a few troubled looks for a few seconds, deciding to postpone their planning. "Hmm. Very well, then.... Gentlemen, we can continue this later. Johnson, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well, milord, you would not believe me unless you see it with your own eyes. There is something going on over there with the lads, and I believe you should be aware of it." He made a gesture with his head, pointing at the crowd of soldiers cheering and yelling on the other side of the road. "Please, follow me, and I will show you."

The NCO began walking towards the enlisted men, with the officers following behind him. Once the serjeant major noticed them heading towards the rankers, he tagged along.

The grenadiers were all standing in a big circle, surrounding what seemed to be two men playing music with their whistle and drum. Through the crowd, James managed to distinguish a few of the men moving inside that circle, most probably dancing. However, there was something else with them, as he could distinguish brown and black things alongside those soldiers.

"Make way for the officers! Make way damn you!" yelled the colour serjeant as they made their way through the red crowd. Once they made it to the centre, their minds were absolutely blown by the scene in front of them. Two men were sitting down on what appeared to be a big rock, playing music. Around them, two creatures seemed to be dancing with the men, their backs facing towards the crowd at that point.

"What in the devil is going on here?!" yelled the serjeant major. The music stopped and the two dancing animals froze dead in their tracks, their eyes narrowed in fear.

After a few seconds, one of them settled down on all fours and turned around, revealing to be a horse. It's brown and white coat, together with greyish black mane allowed the major to recognize him. It was, believe it or not, his horse..

"Oh  come on, sarge! We were just having some good fun here!" yelled the horse with an undeniable American accent.

The officers and serjeant major were taken completely off guard by the horse's sudden response. James in particular was lost for words, utterly dumbfounded by the revelation. His horse could talk and think... and dance like a person.

"B-Butler? Y-you... can talk?" the major asked, stammering like an idiot and doubting of his own senses.

"Yeah, we can talk, right Rogue?" he turned his head towards the black coated horse beside him.

"Aye. We both can, sah," replied the black stallion with a thick Yorkshire accent. "Buggah me if ah knew how, though."

"Oh... well... uh... Mister Williams? Did he just...?"

"So it seems, milord." The captain took a deep breath, then continued. "This is so strange... what kind of sorcery is this?"

"How the hell should I know?" replied the brown stallion, "We got here a few hours ago... it just... happened".

"What should we do with them, milord?" asked the serjeant major.

"Well I will assume they no longer need supervision from the colour serjeants, " said one of the lieutenants in a humorous tone. "But in any case, we have more important matters to worry about, gentlemen."

"That much is true, Mister Bush." said James in agreement. "Serjeant major, this little dancing event is done for. Parade the men on the road for inspection. Two rank line, ready to wheel into column when ordered to." He then turned to address the two talking stallions. "If you two would follow us, myself and the captain would like a word with you."

The two men and horses parted from the crowd of redcoats, walking away to have a private talk. In the meantime, the serjeant major began yelling at the rank and file.

"Full gear in two minutes! I want a line formed on the road for parade and inspection!"

The grenadiers quickly dispersed and made themselves presentable for parade. They closed their coats, put on their backpacks and unslung their muskets from their backs, holding them in their hands. Then, with all due haste, the serjeants and corporals organized the company into a double-rank line. The musicians ran to the left side of the line, while the two young ensigns and colour serjeants moved to the front.

"Company! Shoulder- firelocks!" The men quickly placed their muskets on their shoulder, holding the butts on their left hand.

"Rear rank will take the open order! Three paces to the rear, quick march!" The second rank obliged, stepping back three paces towards the edge of the road. The serjeant major, now ready to carry out the inspection, left the formation and set out to look for Lord Verulam.

***

"..So you've been here before?"

"Not in those exact words, dude. It's more like... it's familiar, and knowledge comes out of nowhere. I dunno, it's like I got amnesia or some shit." James, upon hearing that reply, simply looked down and face palmed.

" *sigh*... We should work on your manners, Butler. You may be my dear horse and all that, but I am still your superior officer here. Same applies to Mister Williams. Try not to... well... just don't go around swearing like a mad sailor when close to the men. Gives you bad reputation... After all, you are... uh... gentle...horses?"

"Ah do believe tha term would be 'gentlecolts', sah." interceded Rogue.

"'Gentlecolts'... Okay. My point is, you are 'gentlecolts', and therefore, you should behave like such. Mister Williams, anything to add?"

"Nay, sir." He shrugged and looked at the horses, then turned back to the major. "Actually, milord, there is something. Given that they technically are in the army... shouldn't they have a rank?"

"Hmm. Good point, captain. Since they are our stallions, that makes them our aides, of sorts." He thought about what to say for a few seconds, then an idea struck his head. "They could be made adjutants. No commissions, no commanding role, but they'll be respected."

"Fine proposal, milord. Let the horses be our adjutants, then. Hopefully the men don't get angry at us giving such a position to horses..."

"We are ponies, Edward, not horses. Horses are stupid, brainless buggers," responded Rogue in a somewhat annoyed tone.

"Fine. Ponies.... We really need to teach you two how to speak decently. You even talk like the bloody yanks do."

"In any case, we should get going." James turned about and looked down the road. The line was already formed and the serjeant major was coming to report. "The line's already formed, and it looks like the serjeant major is looking for us. Ponies, consider yourselves adjutants without commission."

"Um... what does that mean, James?"

"It means you can't go around yelling orders at anyone, but will get the same level of respect as any officer," replied Williams.

"Works for me. Rogue?"

"'Ah'll be foine as long as none of the buggers goes 'round lookin' fer a good buckin'. If bein' an adjutant means we'll be respected, Ah dun see any reason not tae accept the rank."

"It also means that you will be our personal aides," proclaimed the major. "Now, may we mount up? We have work to do."

"Go ahead." Butler signalled the two officers with his head, inviting them to mount up. "Just make sure not to kick us too hard." Both officers got on their saddles and grabbed the reins. With a simple motion of their feet, they instructed the ponies to go forward.

"After all, it's our job to drag your asses around, making you look important." The major, now a bit annoyed by the pony's words, gave him a sharp kick on the side.

"Ouch, James! That one hurt..."

"Oh shut up, you simpleton."

"Line is formed and ready for inspection, milord," declared the serjeant major. The officers, NCO and newly gazetted adjutants walked towards the formation, which was deployed along the road. The two men commanded their horses to stand in front of the line, together with the other officers.

"Proceed with the inspection, serjeant major."

"Order- firelocks!" With their right hands, the men grabbed their muskets by the barrels, then, with a swift motion, positioned them by their right side, parallel to their legs. Finally, on the serjeants' command, they let their weapons touch the ground in unison.

"Fix- bayonets!" With their left hand, the redcoats withdrew their bayonets from the scabbards, locking them on the muskets' muzzles.

"Infantry will prepare for inspection! Cast- about!" The soldiers took their muskets on their left hands and moved them to their left side, while keeping their right hand on the muskets' ramrods.

"Withdraw- rammers!" Each man withdrew his ramrod from his gun, then placing the tips on the firelocks' muzzles.

On cue, each serjeant began inspecting each man's weapon. As they walked by in front of the line, the soldiers dropped the rammers inside the muzzle, making a "ping" noise when the pole reached the bottom of the barrel. One of the inspection NCOs stopped and looked at one man's musket. He glared daggers at the scared soldier, staring deep into his soul with a terrifying expression.

"Name?!" the serjeant yelled at the man.

"R-Robinson, sir," replied the private, frightened by the serjeant's expression. The inspector brought his right hand to his pocket and produced a little note pad and pencil. He wrote down the soldier's name. "Your bayonet is rusty. Clean it." He then moved on to carry out the rest of the inspection.

"Infantry! Shoulder- arms!!"

"Order- arms!"

"Unfix- bayonets!"

The serjeant major kept on yelling orders to the men for at least two more minutes. Once the inspection was concluded, the senior officers took over command of the line.

"Inspection completed with no problems, milord."

"Thank you, serjeant major. Do you have a head count on our forces?"

"Yes, milord. As of right now, the company has a total one hundred and seventeen enlisted men and NCOs, them being seventy private soldiers, twenty lance corporals, ten corporals, ten serjeants, four musicians, two colour serjeants and myself, sir."

"You mean we haven't lost any man in the fight with the demons?" asked the captain.

"Nay, sir. We were really lucky. The surgeons already tended to all injured men, and all are now fit for light duties."

"Quite impressive, serjeant major," said Lord Verulam. "Now, on to official matters. Set the men at ease, Mister Williams."

"Company! Stand at ease!" The grenadiers were now allowed to relax, some letting a few loud sighs escape their mouths.

"Pay heed!" exclaimed the major in a commanding tone. "A few miles from here is the town of Ponyville. That's where we'll be marching to. Now I do understand you are all quite hungry and tired, but we simply cannot stay and camp out here. It is too risky, especially knowing those wooden creatures could come back at any moment and slaughter us all as we sleep."

"It is of utmost importance that we do NOT show ourselves as a threat," continued the captain. "We are no longer in British territory, and given what happened to our horses, we may no longer be on friendly soil. Therefore, diplomacy is key here. No man, under any circumstance, is allowed to fall out of line without being ordered to. No officer will grant any leave slips unless authorised by myself or the major. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" replied the men in chorus.

"Permission to speak, milord?" asked Butler, turning his head to meet his rider's.

"Permission granted, Mister Butler."

"Well, as you.. um.. gentlemen... may have noticed, we ponies can talk. Yeah... I do understand it's weird, but you'll all have to get used to it. I'm glad you're all taking it quite well as of now, but once we get into Ponyville, something tells me there will be lots of talking ponies walking about stark naked like myself." At that point, James gave Butler a good kick. The pony winced for a moment. Getting the cue, he tried to increase his speech's language quality. "I would appreciate if you let me and Rogue here do the talking and diplomatic stuff with the locals. Chances are they haven't seen many 'people' around these parts."

"Um... if I may ask, how do you know all this?" asked one of the curious ensigns.

"I have no idea, dude... But uh.. we do not have time right now, we must focus on the task at hoof... well, hand. Whatever."

"Mister Butler is right. We have work to do," said his rider. "It's getting quite late, and I definitely do not want to be here any longer. Serjeant major, if you please?"

"Infantry, A-ten-hut! Order- firelocks!" The men quickly jumped into attention and positioned their muskets on order stance.

"Fix- bayonets!" The redcoats, using their right hand, took their bayonets out of the scabbards and locked them on their muskets' muzzles.

"Shoulder- arms!" Now, with their bayonets in position, the soldiers brought their muskets back on their shoulders.

"Rear rank will take the close order! Quick march!" The soldiers in the second line took three paces forward, putting themselves into close order with the front line.

"Infantry will change directions to the left by sections, to the left wheel! Quick march!" on cue, the corporals on the far left of each section turned 90° to their left, the others lining up to their right side. The line was now formed as a column, ready to move out.

"The column's ready to march milord," announced the serjeant major. The lieutenants walked to their positions in the back of the formation, while the musicians and serjeant major went to the middle. James and Williams rode towards the front of the column, followed by the ensigns and colour serjeants.

The two mounted commanders drew their swords, signalling the other officers to do so as well. The major turned about and addressed to his company once again. "Remember, lads, we are not in England. Be ready, for we do not know if those damned wooden things will come back to finish their job. Once we're out of this blasted forest we can relax, but for now, eyes open!"

"Infantry! Eyes- front! Prepare to march! Forward- march!"

The grenadiers, weary and cautious, marched along the forest road, doing their best to illuminate their path with fire. It turned out to be a quite cloudy night, and the moon's light barely made it past the dense tree tops, letting the woods be covered in the orange brightness of the torches. The perfectly choreographed steps of the column hit the road in unison with the music, making the ground shake beneath the ranks and raising a thin cloud of dust. The noise of their boots, fifes and drums echoed through the foliage, waking up the animals to the tune of 'The British Grenadiers'.

As the infantry moved forward, the signs of civilization began making themselves more visible. On the edges of the road, the officers spotted wooden buckets tied up to the tree trunks, connected to small metallic tubes that were stuck inside the trees. The smell of tree sap invaded the column's nostrils, and reminded them of one little problem. They were hungry. However, nobody moved an inch out of order, and despite their growling stomachs, the grenadiers ignored their hunger and kept marching forward.

Half an hour after their departure, the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers finally found themselves out of the dense woods, now marching on a clear road. They could distinguish a town up ahead, glowing with light and hope for the rankers. Their hunger, now on it's peak, demanded them food, and the sight of the village struck smiles on everyone's faces.

Form Line!

"The cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf."

Thomas Paine, British radical, pamphleteer, and intellectual

This land’s night sky was a wonder to contemplate. The moon, shining almost as bright as the sun itself, lit up the landscapes of this strange new world, bathing them in a dime, pleasant white light. Upon its contact with the surface, the reflections of the green vegetation glowed, inspiring an almost magical sense of beauty and pride. The stars, always faithful to their role, accompanied the moon in her celestial throne, sparkling and twinkling in the dark night skies, brightening up, ever so slightly, what the moon herself could not.

Green was, however, not the only colour reflected by this majestic display of light. It’s opposite, the bright scarlet, distinguished itself amongst the thousands of hues and tones of nature’s colours, while being followed by the noise of shoes, chatter, fifes and drums. It was through a small rural road, made out of dirt and mud, that His Britannic Majesty’s 82nd Regiment of Foot marched forward, showered by moonlight and gallantly exhibiting their red uniform for the world to admire. Their colours, uncased and in display, waved shyly with the breeze, guiding the Grenadiers in their march to Ponyville.

As the column got closer to the town, the mounted officers in the very front noticed a small crossroad a few yards away, which had a small signpost on it's side. Captain Williams, riding on Rogue's back, hastened his pace towards this crossroad, and had a small glance at the signpost, trying to orient himself in this strange place. Names he never heard of appeared in those signs, which had small arrows pointing in the direction of those locations. Places like "Canterlot", "Everfree Forest" and "White Tail Woods" were named there, the latter being the place the column was marching from. Upon seeing the "Ponyville" sign, Williams turned his head towards Major Verulam, and signalled with his hand to turn left.

The Captain and pony waited for the column to reach them, then fell in by the front, next to their commander.

"Right shoulders forward! By sections, march!"

One section after the other, the column wheeled to the left, doing their best to keep the space between each line intact. After the manoeuvre was completed, each section lowered or quickened their pace to compensate for the wheel, regaining their initial spacings.

The Grenadiers now found themselves marching parallel to what looked like an apple orchard. Their hunger, keeping them restless, made some men turn their eyes towards the apple trees, taking quick glances at the delicious, bright red apples hanging from their branches. Even the serjeants and a few lieutenants could not keep their eyes forward.

The men were, indeed, quite hungry. They hadn't ate a thing since they left camp back in Poundsgate, about ten miles north of King's Woods, and now, after hours marching through dirty roads and enchanted forests, their stomachs were growling like an angry mastiff in front of a cat.

In fact, even the Major himself, Lord Verulam, had his own belly empty, begging for an apple or two.

"Oh," muttered James while looking at his belly. "Well, Mister Williams, it seems the men are starving, and I include myself amongst them. It's a pity we didn't make it to Buckfastleigh, and ended up like this."

"Aye... the morale seems to be dropping as well. I say, should Rogue and I move ahead and buy us some apples from this orchard? The lads back there seem to be eyeing them every few seconds."

"Yeh. It would be nice to have a small snack." James reached down to Butler's saddle bag, and from it, he withdrew a small pouch with coins. He then handed that bag to his second in command. "Here you go. One hundred guineas. I really doubt the apples will cost that much, but better safe than sorry. Do please not spend all the money, though."

"As you wish, milord. How does two apples a man sound?" asked the captain, now riding a little faster.

"Good enough, Captain. This is but a snack, after all, not dinner."

"Very well. I'll be waiting for you at the farm's entrance. Farewell." He tipped his hat with his right hand, then both rider and colt left the column and rode on.

. After a few minutes, they saw to their left the entrance to the estate, which consisted on a tall, white archway, adorned with plants, flowers and a wooden sign, which had the shape of an apple cut off in the centre. Although it wasn't an architectural masterpiece, the entrance itself looked fairly nice, specially when comparing it to others back in England.

Drawing his eyes further into the farm, the first thing Williams noticed was the big, red barn. It was painted scarlet red, with white trims on the edges and neatly decorated with black and brown drawings. Two windows popped out of the second story's side, making the place look more like a house, rather than a common barn.

Beyond the majestic red structure, the vast orchard expanded for miles, running all the way over the hills and past the horizon. Thousands of trees, each holding dozens of apples, stood firm all around Williams and Rogue, shaking their leaves with the wind and tempting them both to just lean to their side and have a taste.

However, their hungry desires were interrupted by their sense of duty. Wishing not to waste more time admiring the landscape and architecture, the rider instructed his pony forward, and at a steady pace, they both entered through the archway, walking towards the residential barn.

Their expectations however, shattered upon smelling a very familiar stench.

"Oh bollocks. That smell again," said Rogue from below, turning his head to Williams. "Do you think-"

His words were interrupted by a howling, as a dense,dark fog slowly began brewing around the farmlands.

"Shite..."

"Oh no..." Williams felt a chill run down his spine, as goosebumps formed all over his skin. "Rogue, we must go warn the others... Wait.. what is that?" The redcoat distinguished something moving through the dense fog. It looked like an orange horse, or rather, pony, running into the barn in a desperate hurry. Behind it, a pack of wolves gave chase, only to be stopped by the wooden gates of the strong structure.

All of a sudden, the distant sound of musket fire broke through the barks and howls. The 82nd was under attack.

Rogue stepped back and signalled his rider to dismount. Both then slowly walked behind a nearby bush, and tried to hide from the violent wooden beasts in front of them.

Every second that passed, more and more of the timber wolves surrounded the scarlet farmhouse. Coming from the orchards behind the barn, dozens and dozens of these ferocious beasts emerged from the woods, almost as if they were born from the apple trees themselves.

"This ain't good, Edward," whispered the black pony. "I say we bugger off while we still can. The others need our help."

"Agreed," nodded Williams. "We better-

"Mister Williams!" called a voice from behind them. The two looked back, and saw a blurry, red and brown figure coming towards them through the fog.

"Major?!" cried the captain.

"Oh thank God you're okay." The major, riding on Butler's back, moved hastily towards the confused pair, as the sound of musket fire echoed like thunder through the farmstead.

"Milord?! Is the column under attack?!"

"Aye. Lieutenant Bush was placed in charge of holding the square for now. Those demons came out of bloody nowhere, pouncing over our marching column and chewing their way through our ranks."

"Oh bugger... How many dead?

"None. The square stood fast and in good order, just like last time... Queer, isn't it?"

"Indeed, sir... But, Milord, look over there! At the barn!" Williams pointed towards the red building in front of him. The Major, who had completely ignored it, looked up and saw in horror as about four dozen of the wooden creatures had it surrounded. "There are ponies trapped in there, sir! We must do something!"

"By God... Indeed we must, Mister Williams. You and Rogue stay here, I shall bring forth the Grenadiers and see these buggers off this land."

Formed up in two ranks, the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers marched through the western side of the orchard. Their line, thirty five yards wide, advanced steadily between the trees and fallen branches, with charged bayonets and muskets ready for battle.

It was, however, a silent and discrete manoeuvre. The men kept themselves quiet, covered by the night's shadow, as they pushed towards the farmhouse, making sure they did not attract any unwanted attention from their foes. The colours were also lowered and rolled around their pole, while the musicians kept their instruments inaudible. Even Butler wasn't talking bollocks, for a change.

Since Rogue and Williams had been left on their own, Lieutenant Bush was named acting Captain for the time being, taking the role of second in command during this assault. Him, together with his commander (and ever 'faithful' pony), had picked up their pace and left the line behind, scouting ahead of the main force.

The three found themselves spying on the barn, kneeling behind a few bushes by the orchard's inner tree line. As James observed the area with his spyglass, the others kept an eye on their surroundings, trying to find a suitable place to deploy the company and advance over the big red building. Since the fog was now slowly dissipating into the air, they were both able to see the area without much difficulty.

"Gentlemen," called the Major, "there seems to be a small pack of them around the main building. About four dozen wolves, I dare say." He lowered his spyglass and looked at the lieutenant, who seemed to be quite busy analysing the geography of the area. "Found us a nice place to form up, Mister Bush?"

"Well, milord, although the terrain here seems flat and quite easy to march over, I do believe a general advance and assault are not the best ideas."

"Any suggestions, then?"

"Hmm... If we advance and discharge too close to the barn, we may put the lives of those inside at risk... I say we bring the fight to us."

"Lure them here, you say?"

"Aye, sir. We could get the lads to form behind the tree line, hidden from those damned creatures, and then bring the buggers into our firing line. Once they are close enough, we can give a volley..." He then turned to look at the brown pony sitting between him and his commander. "As for bringing the wolves here... Butler here should do the trick."

"What?!" exclaimed the pony in utter disagreement. "No! I am not wolf food! Fuck it, I refuse to participate!"

"Would you please stop protesting?" demanded the Major. "There are innocent lives at stake here, Butler. There is no room for whining."

"But this is suicidal!"

The Major got up from his kneeling and walked behind his complaining partner. "Get going, damn your eyes!" he ordered, striking Butler on his flank with an open palm. Due to simple reflex, the brown colt began running forward.

"Mister Bush, form line five yards into the trees. Each section should be separated from one another by five paces."

"As you wish, milord." The temporary second in command turned and ran back towards the infantry, disappearing through the shadows of the orchard.

James, now alone, went back to his prior observations, pointing his spyglass at Butler's general direction. Although the stallion was quite rash and undisciplined -to say the least-, the commanding officer believed him capable of performing this simple task. Not because he trusted the pony, but  because he was certain that the colt would turn tail and run off screaming upon encountering any foes.

Soon, he lost sight of his quadrupedal companion, disappearing into the fog up ahead. It was not for long, though, as he quickly came back, running and screaming in panic. Behind him, at least thirty wooden wolves gave chase, hungrily licking their lips at the sight of fresh horse meat.

Without losing any more time, the Major drew his sword  and hastily went back into the orchard, returning to his position in the formation.

Dawn at the Battlefield

-Imperial Glory Soundtrack-

Standing fast behind the first few trees in the orchard, the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers waited for the order to fire. Their weapons, pointing at their enemy, twirled and twitched a bit in the soldiers' hands, awaiting the moment to discharge a wall of lead into the foe's ranks. The colours, slowly waving in the breeze, stood a few feet behind the British red line, protected behind the Colour Serjeants' long spears.

The rattling of wood hitting dirt got closer and closer by the moment, chasing after screams of terror from the fleeing pony. He could already smell the wolves' horrible smell breathing down his neck, giving him no option but to run for dear life. After an eternity running, an exhausted Butler made it past the British ranks. Breathing heavily, he made his way towards the officers, who were about to give the single most important order of their career.

James raised his sword into the air and took a long breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled and gave the order.

The sword fell.

"First rank! FIRE!"

A thick wall of fire and smoke burst out of the British formation. Like an unstoppable thunder, the volley's powerful rattles echoed through the farm, waking every living being with the noise of death. In the blink of an eye, the charging horde of demons is reduced to splinters, shattered by a wide barrier of concentrated fire. The ground below them was turned into an orgy of branches, tree sap and dirt.

Through the smoke and confusion, the few living creatures halted their advance. Struck by fear and panic, the charge turned into a rout. All barks and growls were reduced to whimpers, while the last remaining timber wolves ran away in desperation, hoping to get away from death's grasp.

An uncomfortable silence invaded the orchard. Not a sound to be heard, nor a noise to disrupt the now calm environment that surrounded the Grenadiers. As the fog of war dissolved and dissipated into the air, the clear sight of the ground before them confirmed their success. Their volley, deadly and devastating, rendered them victorious.

"The Eighty Second will advance! Port arms!"

The soldiers brought their weapons in front of their chest, forming a strong wooden fence line. Then, with drums hammering, the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers took their first step forward. Marching side by side, with colours blazing and uniforms shining into the moonlight, the red line left the orchard behind, ready to finish off their foes at the barn.

"Charge your bayonets!"

The fence line turned into a wall of pikes. A hundred sharp triangular knives pointed forward, viciously growing closer and closer to the red building in perfect formation. Nothing could stop them now. Their finest hour had come.

"AT THE DOUBLE! CHARGE!"

"HUZZAH!"

The 82nd's Centre Companies at Vitoria

Forlorn Hope -Rewritten

In the middle of the foggy darkness, standing tall amongst the rolling hills of the Equestrian landscape,the silent town of Ponyville rested it's head on a cotton pillow. It's inhabitants, driven by the peaceful lull of the night, laid their warm bodies under the sheets of their subconscious fantasies, dreaming of unimaginable joy, happiness and tranquillity. In their dreams, there was no pain, no suffering, only themselves, and what made them feel special.

This was not the case, however, of a certain lavender coated alicorn. Princess Twilight Sparkle, the local librarian and recently crowned princess, could not help but stare through her bedroom's window, admiring the little light the stars brought to her eyes. Still covered by her blanket, laying on a soft mattress, she began fantasizing with the stars, trying to hear their graceful twinkling through the peaceful, silent night.

Soon, the scholar's heavy eyelids began dropping. The trance of sleep slowly taking away her consciousness, her dreams intermingling with reality. The outside world began losing it's grip from her, and soon, she found herself floating in her own fantasies, joining the other sleeping inhabitants of this rural town.

Sadly, her sleeping did not last for long. It only took a couple of minutes for her to wake up again. For the fifth time that night, her wings snapped open, striking the hard wood of the bed's headboard. Jumping back into reality, Twilight opened her eyes with utter disgust, exposing the sore, reddened surface that surrounded her irises. The lack of control for her wings, together with the subsequent lack of sleep, were turning that night unbearable for the poor pony. Having nothing better to do, and knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep that night, the alicorn stepped out of her bed and headed downstairs, towards the kitchen.

Carefully, as quietly as she could manage, Twilight made her way down the stairs, doing her best to keep her wings folded. Once in the kitchen, she used her magical telekinesis to grab a mug from one of the shelves and filled it with water, utterly unaware of the baby dragon looking at her from the doorway.

"Twilight?" asked the little creature, scratching one of his eyes.

"AH!" Startled by his sudden call, the princess' wings snapped open, accidentally hitting the porcelain mug. Upon contact with the hard wooden floor, it shattered into hundreds of tiny little pieces, scattering all over the kitchen and emptying the liquid over the wood.

Frustrated, the librarian sighed, facehoofing and shaking her head in disappointment.

"What are you doing up so late? Please tell me you didn't stay up all night with that book again."

"No... Can't sleep... Wing problems," she muttered, grabbing another mug from the shelf and filling it with more water. After drinking it down, she took a glance at the porcelain-covered floor. "Spike, would you mind cleaning this?"

"Later. Go back to bed... It's two in the morning." The dragon walked off back to his makeshift bed, loudly yawning and stretching his limbs. Once inside his basket, Spike covered himself under the sheets, fading away into the grasp of sleep.

Suddenly, coming from outside the library, the loud noise of a bell ripped through the silent lull of the night. Piercing into Twilight's ears, the loud chimes began drilling into her brain, making the night worse and worse. Utterly pissed off, the newly crowned princess opened the closest window to her, poking her head through it. Twisting it from one side to the other, she noticed, a light brown earth pony galloping around, shaking a cowbell on his neck while shouting his lungs out.

"RALLY THE GUARD! RALLY THE GUARD! PONYVILLE'S IN DANGER!"

That pony was Caramel, crying wolf again for a twelfth time in three months. Ever since he was attacked by a timberwolf, the pony became fairly traumatized and cowardly, and every now and then, for some strange reason, he shows up in the middle of the night, crying that those confounded creatures are chasing him again. The townsfolk believed him the first three times or so, but nopony ever found a single wolf outside the Everfree Forest.

In the end, the brown stallion got tagged as a cowardly liar, thus ruining his reputation.

"Oh... not this again..." muttered the alicorn, quite displeased with her acquaintance's actions. Using her magic to plug her ears, she shut the window close and walked back upstairs, trying her best to ignore the stallion's loud yelling.

The spell helped a lot for that matter.

Lying back in bed, she covered herself with her blankets and tried, for a sixth time that night, to sleep. Her eyes still sore and itching, made the task close to impossible.

Ten minutes and quite a few eye scratches later, the lavender mare still found herself unable to sleep, shifting her position in the mattress countless times. Giving up, she opened her tired eyes and stared at the night sky once again. The stars, still displaying their graceful light, showered her with their beautiful choreographies, twinkling and maybe even slightly moving in a random pattern.

"Hey, Twilight!"

"AH! PINKIE!" A frightened Twilight jumped out of the bed, utterly terrified by the pink pony poking her head through the window. She literally hit the ceiling, getting her horn stuck up there and her body hanging down. Quite a hilarious sight.

"Pinkie! What are you doing?! It's almost three in the morning!"

"I came to say 'hi', silly! You would not believe what happened!"

"At three in the morning?" The alicorn, tired and irritated, was already used to Pinkie Pie's sudden intrusions in the middle of the night. It happened quite often, in fact, but she never managed to avoid getting a bit angry.

"but of course! You see, I was peacefully sleeping in my bed when my pinkie sense woke me up, warning me about a terrible doozie! So I got up and walked outside and you would not believe what I found! I-"

Using her ear plugging spell, Twilight decided to stop listening to her friend. Although she liked Pinkie Pie, that mare could become a burden for one's ears, and it was for the best not to listen. Instead, she focused on getting down from the ceiling.

Once she managed to loose her horn, she dropped on the mattress and bounced off, falling face first onto the wooden floor. Wincing in pain, her spells dissipated, and Pinkie's ramblings once again stormed her hearing senses.

"so then they asked about you, and I told them to come here!"

"Wait... who's asking for me?"

"Didn't you listen, silly? I said my friends Butley and Roguey coming! They should be arriving any moment now!"

**knock** **knock** **knock**

As Twilight recovered her bearings, a loud knocking came from downstairs, echoing it's rattle all around the library. The princess turned her head and faced her pink companion, meeting her big smile and cheerful expression.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Oh! Oh! They're here! Come on Twilight! Let's go greet them!" With a bright grin, Pinkie gracefully bounced downstairs, completely disregarding the laws of physics. Behind her, and in the worst possible mood, an annoyed Twilight Sparkle followed suit.

Expecting this whole ordeal to be nothing more than a silly prank, she slightly opened the library's door poking her head outside. Right in front of her, two stallions she had never seen before met her gaze. Side by side, a brown and white pinto and a dark furred stallion eagerly awaited her arrival. Both were wearing strange saddles on their backs, strapped all around their torso, neck and part of the head.

"Hello?" asked the lavender mare in an effort to hold her yawns.

"Excuse us for disturbing you at this hour, ma'am," said the pinto with a stern expression carved in his face. "We're looking for the town's librarian. It's a bit of an emergency."

"That would be me... What's going on at this hour? Is everything okay?"

"HEY GUYS! HOW'VE YOU BEEN!" Cheerfully as always, Pinkie interrupted their conversation with a big grin.

"Pinkie! Don't do that!"

"Oh no.. not this again," muttered the stallion with discontent.

"But Twilight! Look! They're new in Ponyville! That means WE'RE HAVING A PARTY!"

"PINKIE PIE! Don't shout! It's three in the morning! And this is serious!"

"Oh! Okay! I'll be back when this isn't serious anymore. Bye!" And just like that, she bounced away, making her trademark 'boing' noise every time she landed. Sighing in relief, the librarian turned back to the two stallions in front of her, going back to 'serious mode'.

"So... as I was saying, what's going on?"

"Quite a lot I dare say, lass." The black stallion took a step forward, speaking in a thick Yokeshire accent. "The apple orchards are being raided by those blasted wooden wolf things. We need to rally the guards fast!"

"What?! Sweet Apple Acres under attack?!"

"Aye, our mates and us tried to hold 'em back but..." He trailed off with remorse, sadly lowering his head. "The officers told us to come 'ere and get help. When we left, the lads were trapped inside a red barn."

"Ohmygosh! Timberwolves aren't supposed to leave the Everfree Forest! We've gotta do something! I'll send a letter to the Princess!"

She darted back inside in desperation, trying to find her faithful dragon assistant. The two stallions, without thinking twice ran into the library, chasing after her.

"Come on Spike! This is important!"

"Wha? Wha's going on? Twilight it's late in the morning... I wanna sleep." The baby dragon was forced out of bed by magic, waking up to Twilight shaking his little body up in the air. Once awake, she dropped him down on the floor, landing on his back against the hard wood.

"We need to send a letter to the Princesses! Get me a quill and parchment!"

"Oi! Lass!" chimed in the black earth pony, "that won't be necessary. We've got our own letter to send out." He produced a small bent parchment from his saddle bag, grasping it with the mouth and letting the unicorn grab it with her magic. "Your friend Applejack, the one who sent us here, said it would be a good idea."

The librarian studied the letter for a few seconds, taking special attention on the red wax seal that held it closed. It contained what looked like three feathers, lined up one next to the other and held on their lower part by a crown. She had never seen such a symbol before, triggering her curiosity. However, her sense of responsibility told her to postpone her questions.

"Here you go, Spike. Send it away, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah... Just let me sleep after this."  Grasping the parchment with his hand, he blew a flame over the closed letter. The two stallions stared in horror as the little dragon burnt the message into a green smoke, believing he just destroyed it.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Everything will be fine, lass. Just hang on." In the middle of the room, sitting on a wooden bed, Colour Serjeant Johnson looked at the wounded orange pony with concern. Lying next to him, a blood-stained Applejack winced and cried in pain, as the serjeant stitched close the bite marks in her haunches. Behind them, by the window, two grenadiers aimed down and discharged their muskets, filling the room with white smoke.

"Don't ye worry, Miss Applejack. It's almost over. Captain, could I borrow some of your brandy?"

"Certainly, Johnson." Mister Williams, who was standing by the doorway, turned around and handed his canteen to the serjeant, who then emptied half the container onto the closed wound. The earth pony, upon feeling the alcohol on her rear leg, yelled painfully, violently jerking her rear legs. Her brother, a red earth pony named Macintosh, stood by her side, holding tightly her sore body.

"Now, lassie, I need ye to drink this. It's brandy, taken from the French at Toulouse."

"Wha... what? The Prench?"

"Just drink down, miss. It'll do ye good." He put the canteen on her lips, and emptied the liquid in her mouth. Without thinking twice, and due to the foul taste, she quickly swallowed it down.

"Good filly. We can't do anythin' more here, sah. She'll be 'aight."

"Well done, Johnson," said the Captain, "Now, get on with your duties downstairs."

"Aye aye, sah." The Englishman got up from the bed and grabbed his spear, which was lying on the wall next to him. Bringing it to his right side, he angled it diagonally to the floor and braced it with two hands, making sure it didn't hit the ceiling. Then, he tipped his hat at the officers in the room and walked out.

The Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers found themselves in a dreadful situation. After the bayonet charge, the hordes of Timberwolves grew bigger and bigger, forcing the Redcoats into the barn. Covered by the dense smoke, they discharged round after round of musket fire, in their best attempt to keep their magicked foes at bay. In the centre of the room, protected behind the colour serjeants' long spears, the two young ensigns held the colours. The two standards, symbols of the 82nd's pride and honour, stood side by side with the company's musicians, who were, under orders from the Major himself, playing the tune "Hearts of Oak".

Outside, hundreds of timberwolves surrounded their human preys. Their distinctive stench and loud barking, storming the Englishmen's heads, filled the Grenadiers with fear. Scratching the entrances with their sharp claws, the creatures were trying to get inside, their mouths watering at the sole thought of fresh meat.

With lead flying and drums hammering, the British soldiers stood their ground. Taking cover behind the thick red walls, some of the men reloaded their firelocks, carefully making sure their shots were properly rammed into the barrel. The rest, positioned by the windows, opened fire at the assailing creatures, shattering their bodies into splinters and branches.

From the second floor, above the battle, the commanding officer inspected the situation with his telescope. With the ammunition running low, James' only hope laid on his adjutants. It had been almost an hour since Butler and Rogue ran away to get help, and for how things were looking, they may as well never come back.

The Major was already losing hope. Sighing loudly, he lowered his spyglass with remorse, regretting sending the two ponies on such a suicidal mission. It was more than possible that the wolves got them right after they left, and their bodies were reduced to mere bones.

Leaving the window, James closed his telescope and sat down by the bed. He noticed Captain Williams walking by the entrance, and with a hint of dispair in his words, he called his attention. "....Mister Williams?"

"Oh?" asked the second in command. "Yes, milord?"

"How are we on lead? How many rounds per man?"

"About ten bullets each, sir. We can stand, but not for long..."

"We are a forlorn hope, Mister Williams... I say we make the best of it." James rose up from the bed and walked outside the room, heading downstairs with the Captain.

"What do you mean by that, sir?"

"I say we take the fight out to those buggers outside, Mister Williams. They are made of wood, are they not? Let's see how they like fire."

With Fire and Sword

"The most certain way of insuring victory is to march briskly and in good order against the enemy, always endeavoring to gain ground."

-Frederick the Great, King of Prussia

Thoughts of the Motherland

-Imperial Glory Soundtrack-

"Serjeant major, open the gate on my command!"

"Aye aye, sah!"

"Ensign Woodworm?"

"Milord?"

"Take the King's colours to the roof, at the double!"

"On my way, sir!"

Inside the cramped red barn, standing through fire, smoke and powder, the British redcoats were ready for their final stand. With their leaders by their side and their proud regimental colours on their back, a three rank deep line awaited their last order to fire. Down to a single bullet per man, the Prince of Wales' Volunteers had no choice but to strike back, sallying forth and taking the battle to the foe's ground.

Knowing that common steel wouldn't be enough to defeat the wooden hounds, the high command authorised the Grenadiers to coat their bayonets, swords and pikes with alcohol. Cider, brandy, whiskey, ale, it did not matter, as long as it could be lit on fire. Using their flintlocks, the men set their weapons ablaze, burning with the fury of the sun himself.

On command, the three lines fully cocked their muskets.

"PRESENT!"

"OPEN THE GATE!"

"FRONT RANK, FIRE!"

**VRROOM**

Like a furious dragon, the line erupted in fire, raining a shower of lead into the cursed assailants. The wolves before them, now terrified and retreating, fell and turned to splinters. Losing no time, the front line knelt down, bracing their weapons and making room for the second rank to give fire.

"SECOND RANK, FIRE!"

**VRROOM**

"REAR RANK, FIRE!"

**VRROOM**

"CHARGE- BAYONETS!"

"HUZZAH!"

"PREPARE TO CHARGE!"

"THEY'RE GETTING IN THE BARN, SAH!"

"CHARGE!"

They emerged from the gun smoke like enraged red demons. Every man, every soul fighting for their life, taking the battle straight to their assailants with burning hot steel. Stabbing their way through the Timberwolves, the British Redcoats turned the tide of the battle, having the hounds' fear fighting by their side.

With quick, brutal motions, the rankers set the wolves on fire, thrusting their blades into their opponents' bodies. The serjeants, taking advantage of their sturdy pikes, impaled their foes with brutal force, striking directly into their cursed heads. The officers, armed with pistols and swords, mercilessly sliced and shot their way through the wooden hordes, leading their company to victory with fire and sword.

As the battle raged on, one of the lieutenants was distracted by a distant purple light, foreign to that of the mass stabbing, slashing and barking. Without letting his guard down, he took a quick glance in that direction, spotting a long shade of gold, grey and blue, accompanied by the sounds of bugles and war cries.

Slowly, some wolves began withdrawing and running into the orchard.

"THE EQUESTRIAN CAVALRY, SAH! THEY'RE HERE!"

"THEY'RE RETREATING! THE BUGGERS ARE RUNNING!"

Standing tall in the night's mist, a few yards from the apple orchard's inner tree line, four ponies observed the battle before them. Twilight Sparkle stared in horror at the terrifying scene, unable to believe what she was seeing. Right in front of her, all around the Apple family's barn house, an unimaginably big pack of timberwolves had the building under siege.

She could hear barks and growls, tearing through her ears and smashing all hope she had for her trapped friends. With sorrow carved in her heart, the Princess turned to her left, taking a glance over her two strange companions, Rogue and Butler. Surprisingly, both kept a stern and calm look on their faces. Neither of them showed much concern or sadness. Instead, they just focused on the scene unfolding before them.

To her right, clad in gold and purple armour, her brother Shining Armour analysed the battlefield in deep concentration. For the first time in years, it was up to him to lead an offensive attack of Equestria's enemies, and the bold colonel was eager to partake in such offence. Nevertheless, the situation in his hooves was definitely something new. His lack of experience with timberwolves opened huge gaps in his plans, and thus, making the leader uncertain of his own decisions.

However, all of a sudden, the earth ponies' eyes shut close in despair, hinting a bit of fear and disgust.

"Do you hear any shots?" asked Butler, turning to meet his companion's gaze.

"Nay... ah bugger... I hope they didn't run out of powder." Rogue shifted back at the barn, allowing for sorrow to slowly creep up his face. "If they're out of rounds then... well..."

"Ran out of rounds? What's that supposed to mean?" inquired the alicorn.

"Long story, miss. Colonel Armour, bring yer stallions forward. It seems our lads won't stand any lo-"

**VROOM**

Rogue's voice was cut off by a loud, explosive rattle, echoing through the orchard and striking a smile in his snout. Startled, the ponies turned at the barn, spotting a big cloud of fire and smoke exiting through the front gates. It was then followed a second and a third loud noise, booming through apple trees and shaking the ground below their hooves.

The two Equestrians were dumbstruck.

"What in Tartarus was that?!" asked the Guard's commander, stunned by the loud explosions.

"That, mate, were the Prince of Wales' Own. Come on, now! Bring forth the Guard!"

Nodding, the unicorn lit up his horn in a purple aura, shooting a bright bolt of magic into the air. Within a few moments, twenty armour-clad Pegasus Royal Guards emerged from the orchard's trees, followed by a the cerulean banner of the Equestrian Royal Sisters.

Rogue and Butler were still amazed by the Guards' weapons. Made of hardened ash wood, their six feet long spears put those of the French Chevau-Legers in shame. They were all hoof-made, crafted with the most delicacy and attention to detail and ornamented with drawings and symbols carved into the handle. Finally, the tip was made of magically forged steel, which sparked with lightning when nearby living beings.

Without much delay, the guards formed into a line, awaiting their colonel's orders. Shining Armour drew his sword from his saddle sheathe, then turned to his fellow stallions and raised it into the air.

"Be careful, my BBBFF... Don't get hurt." The princess stepped forward and gave her brother a hug.

"Don't ye worry, yer highness. We'll keep 'em out of trouble."

Shining gave her a smile. Then, with a serious expression, addressed his squadron."Prepare to charge! Ready your lances!"

The officer moved to the centre of the line, followed by the two earth ponies. Once in position, their leader reared back and pointed forward with his right hoof, yelling the final order to the Royal Guard,

"For the Harmony and Equestria! Charge!"

Running at full gallop, the Royal Guards closed in on the red barn, yelling their battle cries at top of their lungs and pointing their vicious spears at their wooden foes. Leaving behind a trail of dust, the golden armoured pegasi locked their pikes on their wings, while the bugler played his instrument in the rear.

Halfway through the charge, Shining Armour could distinguish a strange flag being waved on the barn's roof, which did not belong to any Equestrian organization or nation he knew of. It consisted of two red and white crosses, which were positioned horizontally and diagonally on top of a blue background. Assuming it belonged to his companions' friends, he began swinging his sword up in the air, signalling the Pegasi to use their wings to quicken their pace.

As the Guards grew closer and closer, the enraged timberwolves turned their attention to the armoured ponies. The creatures' first reaction was confusion. Then panic, and finally horror, as the first few stallions collided with their ranks. With a devastating effect, the Royal Guard made contact with the wooden wolves, sending sparks of lightning through their foes' bodies and turning them to mere dust and splinters. In a matter of seconds, the horde began dispersing, scattering all along the open field and desperately running for dear life.

Once the way was clear, the ponies began making their way towards the barn, willing to congratulate those brave defenders for their valiant efforts. However, they all found themselves dumbstruck upon witnessing their allies' true forms. Dozens of ape-like bipeds stood in a circle before them, brandishing burning lances and swords. They were all wearing some sort of red clothing, while at the same time, waving a yellow banner in the centre of their formation.

Then, out of nowhere, loud explosions and clouds of smoke began covering the red formation, followed by the death of the remaining timberwolves around the field.

"Uh... Rogue..? Butler..? Are those things.... your friends...?"

"Are you scared, Colonel?" asked Butler with amusement. "Behold, the Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers, Mister Armour."

"What? No! I'm just... intrigued. That is all..."

"Yeah, yeah... Of course, sir. Now, we better give 'em a proper salute, eh?"

"If you say so... Guards! Form up!"

The twenty armoured ponies formed up in a line behind their captain, having the colour bearer and musician on the left and right flanks.

In the meantime, the other creatures seemed to be forming up as well. Facing directly at them, these bipeds broke their formation and lined up in a double-ranked line, having their flag bearer standing behind the formation. This last one was then joined by a second creature, who held the other red and blue banner.

Slowly, the ponies began walking forward, scared but eager to meet these strange creatures.

Well, all except Rogue and Butler, who simply ran at them out of what Shining Armour saw as sheer madness.

"Evenin' officers, it's good to see you all in one piece," stated Butler upon arriving to the British formation.

"Welcome back, adjutants," said James, failing to keep his stern look and painting a big smile on his face. "I'm glad you both made it. You may fall in."

"Aye aye, James!" Butler's amusement immediately killed the major's smile. Going back to serious-mode, the officer moved closer and instructed the pony to stand beside him. Using a handkerchief, he cleaned his sword from the remaining alcohol, then sheathed it back into the scabbard. They were then joined by Rogue and Williams shortly afterwards and made their way to the front of the Redcoats' line.

"So... Do you want us to take the diplomatic role, sir?"

"Do please take it. I don't want to risk another beating from these ponies."

"Oh come on! The red one bucking Bush in the nuts was hilarious!"

"It was, but it also put my best lieutenant out of commission for half an hour. Now please, shut up, the ponies are coming."

Within a few moments, twenty one armour-clad ponies stood before the Grenadiers' formation. The major took particular note on their golden armour, which resembled the old Spartans' bronze armours, but made out of golden metal plates. Their helmets were particularly interesting as well, made out of the same golden metal and sporting a tall blue crest on top.

In front of these ponies, another stallion made his way towards the officers. This one in particular had purple armour, which, in the Major's belief, identified him as an officer. He cautiously took a few steps forward, then with a hint of fear, stood in front of the Englishmen and gave a quick salute.

"Eighty Second Regiment! On my command!" yelled the serjeant major from behind. "Present your- Arms!"

The men, who had their weapons on their shoulders, proceeded to carry out the order. Given that they were now on parade, the drummers followed the instruction by giving a beat for each of the three motions.

The sudden choreographed movement of the Grenadiers seemed to have startled the pony officer. Upon hearing the first drum beat, the purple-armoured stallion gave a slight jump, narrowing his eyes and taking a slow step back.

Trying not to worsen the matter any further, Major Verulam took a step forward and addressed the scared commander.

"Greetings, good sir. I am Major Lord James Verulam, Earl of Verulam and commander of His Britannic Majesty's forces in this... region... Um... Sir?" The pony was now a bit more than scared, and seemed unable to phrase a reply.

"Um... Colonel Armour? Ye alrigh'?" asked Rogue with concern.

"Oh? What? Oh... yes... I'm just... nervous." It took the captain about thirty seconds to formulate that reply. "I've never seen such... creatures before I-"

"Come on, mate! At least introduce yourself!"

"Butler! He's a superior officer! Behave yourself!" spat the major with anger.

"No... Don't you worry... major... I-it's fine.. I'm Colonel Shining Armour, commander of the Equestrian Solar Guard." The nervous pony stammered with utter disbelief. Not only these creatures were unknown to the Equestrians, but they were also sapient and part of a very disciplined military organization!

"Well it's good to meet you, Colonel Armour. This man beside me is Captain Edward Williams, by the way, the man in command of the Grenadier Company of the Eighty Second Regiment of Foot."

"Oh... hello..."

The captain stretched his hand, hoping to break awkwardness of the moment. However, as soon as he moved, both him and the Major were struck by a purple light, throwing them back and on the floor.

"What the fuck?!"

"What was that?!"

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY BROTHER!"

"TWILIGHT?!"

"CHARGE YOUR- BAYONETS!"

"HUZZAH!"

"OH BUGGER, NOT AGAIN!"