Scootaloo stared in astonished disbelief as row after row of griffons marched into the camp. There had to be at least two or three hundred of them, and that wasn’t counting the actual soldiers Scipio had decided to leave on the ground surrounding the camp entrance. Apparently, using a central camp like this for ‘support staff’ was a standard thing for griffon armies. That, of course, brought up the problem of supplies…

“Look, Scipio. You’re sure you can feed your own troops?” she frowned slightly, crossing her hooves over her chest. “I get that you griffons can hunt, but have you cleared that with the deerfolk? They’re kinda sensitive about this place.” Treating Scipio like any other pony had been surprisingly easy in spite of his fancy helmet. Scoots couldn’t put her hoof on it, but there was something about him that just seemed… trustworthy.

“Yes, Scootaloo. I am quite certain,” he said with a griffon grin, his beak slightly gapped in a smile. No, it was something more than trustworthy. It was like when she’d met Applebloom for the first time, just an instant sense of companionship. Scootaloo hadn’t known many griffons, and the few she had known had mostly been jerks. But this guy? She actually liked this guy. “We have quite a bit in war-rations we managed to salvage before leaving Roam, and I have spoken to Crusader Caedryn on the matter of small game.” He tilted his head at her, his gaze direct and challenging. Unlike a lot of the ponies in camp, he’d treated her like an adult right from the get go, which was another thing Scootaloo really liked about him.

‘Game’ was a weird word for hunting animals for food, but Scootaloo shrugged it off. “Okay, if you’re sure.” Every creature was different, and she didn’t have time to get squeamish about it. Practicality was her new watch-word when it came to dealing with the various needs and races of her Crusaders. Besides, whatever issues their carnivorous habits might cause, the griffons had brought her the one thing she’d previously lacked.

Numbers.

Scootaloo would have done a little dance for joy if she wasn’t sure Scipio would give her shit over it. Six hundred battle hardened, well equipped, highly trained griffon Legionaries. Scootaloo - like every pegasus - knew from foalhood Legionaries were considered amongst the best troops on the planet. It was a part of every pegasi foal’s education, just like basic basic tactics and strategy were worked into their play games and entertainment… even if Scootaloo hadn’t realized that until very, very recently. And the Praetorian Guard was really high up on that list.

Oh sure, they weren’t quite Royal Guard, but then who was? “So, you have the look of a pony intending a desperate act of derring-do,” Scipio observed with an arched eyebrow. She stared up at him, wondering how he’d inferred that before she’d even figured out how to pitch the idea to him. He gave her another one of those griffon grins before speaking again. “Cached supplies around camp, ponies sharpening weapons and repairing armor, your griffon drill instructor thundering orders I can hear halfway across the camp.” He ticked off his talons one by one, impressing Scootaloo with each observation.

He grinned again, scratching at his chin slyly. “That, and I might have had a private word or two with your Shaman while I was waiting at the base of the hill.” Scootaloo face-hoofed instantly, and the griffon commander gave a rumbling little chuckle in response to it. I am going to have words with Zecora later, she thought with a gusty sigh, rubbing at her forehead again to work away the pain of the headache. “Relax, Crusader. I was simply curious as to your intentions on how best to bring the fight to the foe.” He turned a little, facing the central tent and arched an eyebrow at her. “Why don’t you show me your Strategic Map? I think it is time I fully comprehended how much trouble we’re in.”

Scootaloo cocked her head to one side at him, then nodded. Whatever else he might be, Scipio was somepony who knew how to fight… and maybe, just maybe…

A friend.

Scipio laid his talons on the table as his eyes darted to and fro over the map. Nearby, the young pegasus filly was watching him intensely and trying to follow his gaze as he eyeballed the surprisingly excellent intelligence on troop numbers, supplies, enemy strongholds, and other relevant information. None of it took into account the reinforcements from Roam, of course - but that was information he himself could guess at.

Even so, it was clear the situation in Equestria was tenuous at best even if... “You’re certain about these numbers?” he asked quietly, and Scootaloo nodded firmly in response to his question. “The Kings were fools then.” The numbers were staggering, if they were true… and this young filly had no reason to misrepresent them. The Pegasi Phalanxes had grown in strength and numbers, and given that weather control technology had vastly improved over the past three centuries…

“Well, this is certainly better news than I expected to see. Not relevant to us right now, but it gives me hope for the future,” Scipio said, projecting his best confident aura. And was rewarded for it with an arched eyebrow from the clearly unimpressed Scootaloo. He had been telling the truth, but it was clear he’d have to explain. “Ah… which is to say, our mutual foe will not be able to so easily win here.” He tapped the map in several key zones. “She won't be able to launch an all out attack on her return from Roam. She simply lacks the numerical advantage to do so. She’s going to need more help, which makes preventing her from moving south all the more important.”

Scootaloo’s eyes cleared up after that, and she nodded slowly. “Right. Which means this fight’s an even bigger one than I thought… good thing we’ll have help.” She grinned fearlessly at Scipio, then trotted over to the more complex tactical map they’d built. “Okay, so this is how I see it - especially since your forces have wings.” She gave a short little hop up to a raised chair, and Scipio had to take a moment to admire whoever had thought to build the thing. Confidence was one of the most important things to have in a commander, and being treated as an equal would build that as surely as success would.

Scootaloo pulled out a long wand and began to point to various points on the excellent model. Scipio would have to find out who had built it and press them into service - having physical models like this would make planning battles much more precise. “We don’t have the forces to hold a line, so we’re going to wait till they’re already heading for the bridge,” Scootaloo began, and Scipio shook off his meandering thoughts to focus on her words. “We’re going to hit them when they’ve already got forces on the other side - we want to catch the bulk of their troops while they’re on the bridge, so we can ignore their scouts and clean them up after the fight… supposing we win it.”

That sounded good to Scipio, and he nodded shortly. Scouts wouldn’t be able to do enough on their own, provided the southern ponies could be warned about the corruption. “So we’ll position you and your guys here, in the wheat fields on the southern end of the bridge.” She pointed to the fields, a fierce grin crossing her face. “We’ve been trying to figure out how to put a real force there, and since you griffons can fly you can swing over the Gorge to get there faster than anything else we’ve got. The rest of our guys will be on the northern end, probably assembling in these pear orchards to the west.” Scipio nodded slowly, seeing the plan that Scootaloo was outlining. It was simple, direct, and going to be bloody as hell… but the very best plans usually were pretty simple.

Scootaloo outlined it anyway though - Scipio was sure it was because she was trying to feel out any flaws in it, though he couldn’t have said why he knew that… “You’ll hit them first - cutting off the southern end of the bridge - making it look like you’re just trying to bottleneck them. Once they’re good and stuck in, we’ll spring our trap.” She smacked the wand in the center of the bridge, her grin becoming even more fierce as the moments went on… almost predatory, in point of fact. “Vinyl’s gonna set up her sound system in the gorge and use it to disorient them. We’ll set off a big light show at the same time using illusions and fireworks. Try to blind them, get them turned around. Then Thunderlane and his wrecking crew, along with the rest of our fighters positioned on the ridges will hit them from every other angle - trapping them on the bridge at their most vulnerable.”

Scipio leaned back and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He could envision the attack already, seeing how each element would tie into the others. “You’re going to try to panic them,” he said softly, and could instantly see why that plan would appeal to her. Disoriented and confused, and unable to tell which way was which, they’d be unable to form a good battle line. Compacted into one another on the bridge, they wouldn’t be able to deploy their full strength against their attackers, and so the numerical disadvantage would be minimized. It was an excellent plan, save for one problem…

He sighed deeply and gave the bridge another look. “That would be a superb plan, if the Dark Sun was not involved. She has a supernatural control over those who serve her, and she will undoubtedly be able to keep them from completely panicking.” He shook his head slowly, still glaring at the bridge. “Still, it is an excellent start. You have less to learn about the Art of War than I had originally thought.”

Scootaloo cocked her head at him, her eyes narrowed but… curious. She was obviously thinking, so he took the time to continue to examine the surrounding area. It really was a solid ambush plan, but they lacked the numbers or reinforcements to drive it home, unless… “How attached are you to this bridge staying intact?” he snapped, hoping to startle her into an immediate answer.

She didn’t disappoint either. “Pretty seriously - we need food and other supplies, and we can’t rely on the farms around Ponyville,” Scootaloo said quickly, giving him a sharp look. “The farms beyond the Unicorn Range are too far without the use of the trains, which we also can't rely on, and Los Pegasus is on the other side of a desert. Unless you have a plan to keep us with food, we need to take that bridge so we can ship up supplies from Appleloosa.” Scootaloo crossed her limbs over her chest and gave out a gusty sigh. “I know, we’d much rather just blow the bridge up too, but…”

Scipio held up a talon, and Scootaloo fell silent. “Hold a moment, my young friend. An old griffon saying holds that there’s more than one way to untie a knot. And there is more than one way to win a battle.” He smiled softly. “I have an idea… your plan will serve as an excellent opening to the festivities, with a few modifications.” Scipio leaned over the map, feeling the plan start to coalesce in his head.

It was daring - almost too daring. But the Praetorian Guard had pulled off the incredible before, and there was no doubt in Scipio’s mind they could do so again. “Now, listen closely Scootaloo. We shall begin just as you said…” And slowly, over the next few minutes he outlined his ideas. He would need to plan for maximum flexibility - every decent general knew the best plans fell apart at the merest whiff of uncertainty, but if they were fast…

Scootaloo nodded slowly at his ideas, a gleam of excitement burning in her eyes. She’d need training, of course. A more thorough grounding in practical military doctrine, and some combat training as well. There was still a great deal to work with there, and Scipio knew instinctively that they were going to need every drop of it if they were to survive the coming war. He leaned back as Scootaloo began to make suggestions of her own, surprising Scipio.

And if this little filly could surprise a seasoned campaigner like himself, perhaps she might just be able to surprise Dark Sun too.

Later that afternoon, Scootaloo strode down the hill toward the camp the griffon soldiers had made at the base of the hill. Scipio had gone ahead some hours ago, intending to oversee the establishment of the camp and a few other duties, but had invited her to come and meet his soldiers. They would be soon fighting together, and it would be best if she knew what to expect out of them.

Zecora strode alongside her, as she almost always did these days. In fact… Scootaloo was becoming oddly more attached to the zebrican than she’d ever been before. Sure, Zecora always had the spookiest tricks on Nightmare Night and was always good for an adventure or two into the Everfree, but she was kind of a stick in the mud the rest of the time. Now? She was the only reason Scootaloo managed to keep things organized and her cooking, alongside her very close friend and roommate Berry Punch, was beyond top notch.

But more than that, Zecora, alone amongst all the ponies in the camp, knew what Applebloom and Sweetie Belle had meant to her. Still meant to her. Zecora was the only one who knew Scootaloo woke up crying sometimes and was the only one who she felt safe enough around to do so with. Well… okay, maybe Silver Spoon too, but that was a whole mess of emotions Scootaloo was trying to not think about just before she went to meet a bunch of hardass soldiers.

“Heads up, little one,” Zecora said softly, leaning on her gnarled staff heavily. Zecora had started wearing an odd looking vest and belt covered in pouches and stuffed with potion vials whenever she left the camp. She’d said they were the weapons she had been trained to use as a filly, and that they could be fearsome indeed in the right fight. She also said she knew how to make a pretty potent explosive, and we’re gonna need quite a bit of that to pull off the plan, Scootaloo thought with a slow smile, raising her head high as they strode into the camp.

Scootaloo herself was wearing the three things she went nowhere without now - her shield, her sword, and her cloak. The crimson cloak billowed in a sudden breeze as they approached a set of sentires, each of them wearing a bright red cloak of their own attached to the shoulder plates of their matte golden armor. “Crusader Scootaloo and Shaman Zecora,” she announced in her firmest voice. She liked the look of those cloaks and how they attached to the armor… Hmm. “The Caesar said we ought to come visit.” That was a little snarkier than she’d intended, but she wasn’t a soldier. Not like these griffons.

Maybe if she had been, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom would be here right now.

The two guards were silent for a moment, then both nodded slowly. “Welcome to the camp, Crusader. The Legion Stands.” The last words were like an oath, some ancient thing that rang down through the centuries because it was supposed to. Scootaloo shook the thoughts out of her head and proceeded into the camp, Zecora in tow.

Zecora chuckled softly. “It is the motto of their military, Scootaloo. A reminder of every griffon that has come before them and spoken the very same words. They take strength from it, just as you take strength from the names on your shield.” Zecora spoke softly, but that didn’t stop the clenching of pain around her heart at the reminder of those names. A list which had grown to include more than just her friends. A reminder, every day she picked it up and strapped it on, of what she was fighting for.

The camp of the Praetorian’s was surprisingly loose, although the military regimentation was evident everywhere. Griffons sat with armor casually laid to one side and rolled dice or played cards. Some of them were sharpening the steel spears they called ‘War spears’ while talking in low voices. A small group of griffons were strumming or playing musical instruments while others clapped and nodded heads to the tune. Some griffons cooked, some tended to minor chores, and it was almost… pedestrian.

But underneath that ease, Scootaloo could sense a subtle tension.These creatures exuded a restrained violence that made Scootaloo want to run her flank off so she could get as far away from them as possible. Her natural instincts responding to the literal army of predators now camped out around her, each and every one of which was watching her out of the corner of their eyes… waiting to see what she would do.

So she did what she’d done with Scipio and ignored it. Instead, she focused on the little details - how they were camped together, how they divvied up duties. It was a good way of distracting her until - “Crusader! I would have words with you,” came a strong, very masculine voice from her right. She turned to regard it, only to be confronted with one of the biggest griffons she’d ever seen. Easily a foot taller than the rest and muscular as all hell.

So she cocked an eyebrow at him and tried to squash the voice in her head that was babbling about running really, really far away from this guy. He crossed his beefy arms over his chest and leaned down to get a little closer, his voice faintly patronizing. “Tell me, little filly. Why should my brothers and I deign to follow you? Perhaps the Caesar finds you amusing, but I do not see what he sees.” His words got a low ripple of laughter from some of the surrounding soldiers, and instantly Scootaloo knew this whole thing for what it was.

Scipio wanted to see how she’d handle them.

So she turned to the guard and stared him right in the eye. She adopted the flat, cold voice that Vinyl used when nopony else was bothering to notice. “You want to know what makes me the leader here, huh? Alright then.” The voice was as hard as iron, and the use of it cast a bit of confusion into the griffon’s eye. Perhaps he’d been expecting something else… but she was about to give him more.

“I was there when the Shadow first boiled out of the Everfree Forest in the form of a pony I had thought was my friend,” Scootaloo began, walking closer to him and trying to restrain the anger and fire that boiled in her belly. “I was there when my best friends in the world were taken by the Shadow because I couldn’t see the danger for what it was. I watched two ponies I love more than anything else in the world turned into writhing slaves to it’s power.” Her steps had taken her right up to his feet, and the Legionnaire gave a step of ground to her reflexively.

Inside, she smirked at that - but she wasn’t even close to finished. “I watched as ponies I’ve known my whole life fled from the town, losing friends and loved ones. I saw children orphaned by the Shadow, right before my very eyes.” She kept advancing on him, and every time she got too close he gave up a few more steps, the shock in his eyes obvious even to Scootaloo. “And do you know what I did when I saw all of that?” she whispered to him, but the whisper seemed loud enough to reach every ear around her.

He shook his head numbly, and she twisted her lips up into a sick grin. “I took up a weapon, when I never had used one before in my life. I took up a shield, when I’d never been trained in its use. I put on my cloak, that my friends had made for me, and I went hunting the Shadow.” She lifted a hoof and jabbed it right into the stupid griffon’s armored chest. “Because the Shadow isn’t anything special to somepony from Ponyville.”

That got a stare of disbelief from the griffon, and she turned away from him - raising her voice loud enough to be heard by anyone who wanted to listen. “You want to know why you should follow me? Because I was there when Discord turned the whole town of Ponyville into his personal plaything. Because I was there when the Changelings invaded Canterlot, and it felt like the end of the world. I was there when Nightmare Moon came back from myth and legend, and you know what?!” The last words were almost screamed as she clambered up a wooden crate, trying to get some elevation for her speech. “Another villain with a black cloak and a funny name doesn’t scare me anymore!”

Scootaloo’s words thundered through the camp and she swept her gaze across the staring soldiers, daring them to interrupt. “I don’t care how strong she is,” Scoots began, her words pitched high enough for everyone to hear. “I don’t care how old she is, and I don’t give a buck how many names she has. She’s got my friends. She took them away from me. She took my home, and my life, and everything I’ve ever held dear...”

Scoots swiveled her gaze back to the original asker and growled in her best intimidating voice. “But I’m not going to stop. I’m not going to let her win. I’ll pick up every weapon I can and throw it at her. I’ll use any plan I can think of to slow her down. She thinks that her darkness and enslaving power makes her strong. But it doesn’t - because I’ve seen what real power is in this world.” Scootaloo raised her head up high, staring up into the leafy foliage above her head. “I’ve watched what can be done when you’re fighting for your friends. I’ve seen gods and goddesses alike fall to that power, and she won’t be any different.” Scootaloo closed her eyes, bowing her head for a moment. “And when I get my hooves on her, she’ll wish she’d never messed with the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

Her last words echoed through the trees, seeming to carry itself on a sudden blast of wind thick with the scent of deep summer. It was a smell that didn’t belong in the forest, now heading towards the bit of autumn, yet it was somehow appropriate. Scootaloo hopped off the crate and strode past the Legionnaire, growling under her breath. “So quit asking stupid questions, and get your flanks ready. You’re all Crusaders too now.” She whipped her head around to gaze at all the rest of the gawkers, her voice snapping like dry twigs. “So act like it!”

Then she turned around again and strode away from the guards, Zecora falling into step beside her with the most satisfied smile Scootaloo had ever seen on her face. “What?” she growled at her zebra friend once they were out of earshot.

Zecora laughed softly, shaking her head. “You are getting quite good at those stirring speeches, little one. I think you quite impressed them.” She beamed at Scootaloo, almost like a proud mother. “Now, let us go find someone who can speak to us without becoming a braggart. There is much the camp could use in terms of supplies, and perhaps there will be some who can trade with us.”

Scootaloo nodded a little, then tilted her head with a slow smile as an idea bloomed in her head. “I wonder if they’ve got some spare cloaks…”

Far behind Scootaloo, several dozen griffons stared in her wake for a few long silent moments. The burly griffon himself had fallen to his ass, dazed and confused about what had just occurred… but somehow knowing it had been momentous all the same. After a few long moments, one of the scout griffons spoke up softly. “Did anyone else get a good look at the emblem on her cloak?”

After a few moments, one of the ranged specialists raised his talon. “I did. Wasn’t too complex of a design either.” He paused for a distinct moment, then nodded slowly. “We’re going to have to find some blue and white cloth, though.”

The group of griffons quickly dissolved into quiet talks about where to find such material in the woods. Others quickly suggested asking some of the other units, while spreading the tale of the speech the little pony had given. Really, she’d sounded more like a miniature griffon than she had a pegasus. Like wildfire, the speech and its words spread through the camp.

And in the way of such things, the words became jumbled and embellished along the way as the tale was told and retold over and over again. Word spread that the young Crusader had seen more horrors than any ten Praetorian veterans combined. That she had already met the Dark Sun in single combat and lived to tell the tale. Soon, much of the camp was convinced that she was the descendant of an ancient line of pegasi warriors, and some few even whispered that within her veins ran the blood of Commander Hurricane herself.

Over and over as it was retold, a single speech became a tale of woe and heartbreak fit to make any griffon shed a solemn tear. Of a young pegasus bereft of family, hearth and home, and her friends kept as prisoners and toys by the Dark Sun, tortured and abused just to taunt the Crusader. Some of the Praetorians who had spoken to the other survivors of Ponyville swore that the Crusader had had to be dragged away from her town as it fell to the Dark Sun as surely as Roam had fallen.

And one by one, her final solemn words reached the ears of every griffon in the camp. ”You’re all crusaders too now.” And the meaning - or at least the meaning in the eyes of the griffons - was not lost on a single warrior amongst them. The Crusader had lost everything, and so had they. And in this way, she had named each and every one of them a brother to her pain and loss. They were all united by what Dark Sun had done to their homes, their families and loved ones, their friends.

With those words, a fire began to grow in their bellies and souls - spread from the lone flame that burned within the Crusader’s heart. Each griffon nursed that flame and spread it to the others. Little by little, they fed the fire within them and passed it amongst their brothers.

By the time Scootaloo had left the camp to return to her own, not a single Praetorian amongst them failed to accord her the proper respect due to one of their own. Plans were quietly laid for what would come next amongst them. The Blacksmiths were duly informed of these plans, and the ringing of hammers sounded off through the night. Needles in deft talons wove and stitched as cloth was found, and dye for that cloth obtained.

For the Praetorian Guard, the answer of how to treat the Crusader had become clear.

After all. Scootaloo was their brother too now.