Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly

by Firesight

First published 1st of September, 2017

Before the Wonderbolts, there were the Bolt Knights. And before Rainbow Dash, there was Firefly. The story of Rainbow Dash's ancestor, the founding of the Wonderbolts, and the outbreak of the Great Pony/Gryphon War.

Three hundred years after Luna's banishment, an uneasy peace has collapsed and war erupts between the United Tribes of Equestria and the growing Gryphon Empire, who seek to supplant Princess Celestia as ruler of the heavens and claim the rich lands of the pony nation for their own. With the border defenses shattered, Canterlot endangered and the armed forces unable to stem the onslaught, who can stop the relentless Gryphon war machine as it overruns province after province, scoring victory after victory as it closes in on the Equestrian capital city?

In this time of peril, when the entire pony nation teeters on the brink of defeat, a champion will rise to lead the resistance to the gryphon invasion, becoming not just the commander of an elite force, but a symbol of Equestrian valor and fighting spirit. A born warrior and leader, the name of Firefly will be one day revered as not just the founder of the Wonderbolts, but as Equestria's greatest hero...

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Taking place seven hundred years before present and canon to both the Gentlemanverse and Turnabout Storm novelization, this is the story of Rainbow Dash's ancestor, the founding of the Wonderbolts, and their role in the bloodiest conflict of Equestrian history.

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• Writers: Leo Archon and Firesight
• Prereaders: AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, TheGoldCrow, Denim_Blue
• Guest Writers: AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue

Maps of Equestria and Equis: https://www.fimfiction.net/chapter/1105220

Prologue

Greetings to you, the readers of this tale.

I am Princess Celestia, and know that this foreword was not originally present in this tome. But recent events have compelled me to revisit this work and my memories of the Great Pony/Gryphon War.

Though many centuries have passed since the war and the life of Firefly, her influence and legacy are as present now as they ever were. Her story of a simple orphan who rose to warrior glory continues to inspire many even in the peaceful era of the present, though I know she would wish to be known less as a hero than a mother, sister and soldier. It was my greatest honor to call her friend and witness her many heroic deeds over her long life, and I have no doubt that her spirit watches over Equestria even now. The many medals and titles I bestowed on her pale in comparison to what she—and indeed, all her Bolt Knight comrades—gave back to all of us; a legend and legacy that would echo down through the ages...

A legacy that lives on today both in the Wonderbolts she founded, and the harmonious era we now live in. And yet, for all her valor, for all her warrior prowess and for all the untold engagements she won in the course of the war, I feel her greatest contribution was as a symbol of Equestrian resistance and fighting spirit, a larger-than-life figure who gave hope to a reeling nation in desperate need of it.

In this she succeeded brilliantly, but had things gone only slightly worse, it might all have been for naught. As I look back on those dark days, I can only marvel that we survived the initial onslaught that Firefly and her comrades will shortly describe. That we did was due to the bravery and sacrifice of countless soldiers and far too many fallen, and I am ashamed to say that my role in the conflict was limited by very clever Gryphon design. I would have spared all my little ponies the agonies to come if I could, and it is forever to my great regret I was unable to.

But it is also to my fiercest pride that even without my help, my beloved ponies rose to the challenge. That in the end, they were able to save themselves. For it is no exaggeration to say that even without the Elements of Harmony, it was friendship that sustained us…

And in the end, it saved us.

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AE
0720 hours

Of all the ways I thought war with the Gryphons might begin, ‘twas not with an ambush or surprise attack.

As they were always given to overwrought displays at parleys, enjoying grand gestures and ritual, ‘twould have been a shock if they had not indulged in both as they approached my battalion and border base of Outpost Epsilon. Gryphon honor required that intentions be made clear and declaration of war or challenge be given before engaging, and thus, I did not fear a sudden strike even as a full Talon Cohort, five hundred strong, descended upon us and then fanned out to partially encircle us. Not even as they drew crossbows at a shouted Aeric command and aimed them at us.

Despite that, ‘twas certainly an intimidating sight, and I admit to a moment of fear to see it. We had never engaged gryphon soldiers before, and ‘twas clear from their well-spaced formation and synchronized movements they were far better trained and disciplined than the irregular raider groups we usually faced.

Still, rituals had to be followed and protocols observed on our side as well, and thus, I flew forth to address them, my Guardspony armor and Master Sergeant shoulder stripes making my identity as the Outpost Commander obvious, the short hairs of my shorn mane standing straight up as I felt a hundred crossbows aimed right at me.

Nevertheless, I did not falter, trying to set the example for both my own forces and our foes. “Gryphons! You are in violation of the border! Leave immediately, or your presence will be taken as an act of war!” I shouted into my blue command gem, its magic amplifying my voice so it echoed across the large border canyon that separated Equestria from Imperial lands.

To no surprise, none of them moved, remaining fifty yards away with crossbows leveled; ‘twas clearly their intention to rain as much death on us from afar before closing in to finish the job with cold steel. ‘Twas then that a single Talon Eagless, a Tribune by her chestplate and the command chain around her neck, flew forth to face us and then unfurled a scroll, reciting from it in surprisingly good Equish.

“Attention, soldiers of Outpost Epsilon! Attention Master Sergeant Firefly! I am sub-Tribune Yallis of the 16th Talon Legion! Listen and take heed!” she proclaimed a loud, clear voice for all to hear, speaking into an odd metal contraption that likewise amplified her words, letting them boom across the wide and dusty desert gorge.

“Know that as of dawn this day, the Gryphon Empire declares war on the Dominion of Equestria! It should be clear you are surrounded and outnumbered and have no chance at victory! But by the grace and mercy of our exalted Empress... I am instructed to offer you honor!” she told us in some disgust. “Surrender, and you will be treated well, held prisoner for the duration of the conflict! But if you resist…” she paused to look around at her assembled cohort, five centuries of Talon soldiers backing her, forming slightly more than a semicircle around us. “Know that no quarter will be given and that your force will be slain to the last pony!”

My lip curled. Even if I believed the offer was genuine—we knew full well the gryphons looked upon soldiers who surrendered without a fight as disgraceful and unworthy of any form of honor—’twas completely unworthy of consideration. None of us had joined the military to give up before a more numerous foe; none of us had trained for months or years to abandon Equestria without a fight. For the bonds we had formed, for the comrades we had lost, for our families, for our friends, and for our very nation, we were not about to surrender, even in the face of a much larger force that threatened us with annihilation.

With a glance around me, I considered my response carefully, and the proper tactics to use facing five hundred crossbows. ‘Twas odd, but I was actually relieved to only be facing an unsupported Talon cohort given ‘twas likely they had at least a full legion of five thousand soldiers in the area.

To be sure, Talons were well-trained warriors and my battalion of two hundred Equestrian Aerial Corps pegasus soldiers was outnumbered well over two to one, but they had no mages or other Knights supporting them. Which ‘twas not to say we did not face a fight; even Talon regulars were said to be on rough par with average Aerial Corps veterans. But after months of Guardspony-inspired training with weighted armor, even my rank-and-file were far from average soldiers by then.

Thus, my next words were anything but an empty threat. “I make you a counteroffer, Tribune!” I called back into my blue gem. “Withdraw your cohort at once, and we will not send your soldiers to their deaths! Methinks you know not what you face here, or you wouldst not have come here with so feeble a force!” As I spoke, I indicated our immediate strategy with two taps on the red command gem I still wore on my belt.

They would be felt as buzzes on the counterpart gems belonging to those of my platoon leaders, including our weather and unicorn healer teams still hidden down below, indicating which of the four enagement options we’d discussed in war councils earlier that day I was selecting.

In truth, the choice was easy as their own choice of tactics was foalish. In partially surrounding us both horizontally and vertically, they had spread themselves far too thinly, and at fifty yards distance, they had the worst of both worlds—too far away to hit elusive targets like pegasi with reasonable accuracy, but too close that they couldn’t reload fast enough before we could reach them.

Of course, five hundred bolts fired at once meant they didn’t need much accuracy, but if we could dodge or deflect their first volley, they might not even be able to draw their swords before our wingblades were upon them. And that would be their undoing; methinks I knew then we would win this fight.

Unaware of the flaws in her formation, the Tribune’s eyes narrowed at the implication, as did the few of her forces who understood me. To their credit, she and her soldiers kept their discipline despite the insult to honor; such a claim that their larger force was inferior would likely have induced the ill-trained gryphon raiders we normally faced to attack.

“So you wouldst choose a pointless death over life and the chance to see your families again?” she asked me contemptuously. “What you see before you is but the very tip of our spear! You know not our numbers or the ease with which we can defeat you! So are you truly willing to sacrifice your entire command here and now, Master Sergeant, to no honorable end?”

I didn’t reply right away. Less intimidated than angry, I felt a cold rage building inside me that they would treat my forces and my very nation so contemptuously. I looked to my left, then my right, my gaze touching upon my second-in-command and my four platoon leaders.

“We’re with you, ma’am!” Master Sergeant Fell Flight promised me, my hot-blooded half-thestral first officer with pegasus wings and slitted green cat-eyes looking ready and eager to fight. My four platoon leaders each gave me a pair of nods as well; Master Sergeant Stormrunner, Sergeant Blindside, Flight Sergeant Osprey and Second Lieutenant Snow Squall all indicating they’d received and understood my orders. The latter was scheduled to replace me as outpost commander when I left to join the Equestrian Officer Academy in a week, but had ceded command for now as my soldiers were more comfortable with me, though I did fulfill his request to lead a platoon as he had done in his enlisted days.

That I had been selected to join the academy was an appointment I had been honored to receive but ‘twas certain I would no longer be keeping. Regardless, he was ready for battle and so was the rest of my battalion; I saw nothing but anger and determination on the faces of my soldiers, a willingness to fight and die. War was upon us, and ‘twas now time to fulfill our duty to princess and province... and face the first of many trials to come.

“Equestrians! This is your last chance! Lay down your arms!” the Talon commander ordered, raising her taloned paw whilst pointing her scimitar at me, clearly preparing to tell her troops to loose their bolts and strike us down.

”Gryphons!” I shouted back, attitude for attitude as I raised my own hoof in response, adrenaline surging through me as I mentally prepared myself for combat. ”Come and claim them!”

As one, the sub-Tribune and I made sharp slashing motions downward and the War for Equestria began.

“The Art of War is of vital importance to a state. It is a matter of life and death; a road either to safety… or to ruin.” —Sun Tzu

Author's Notes:

Greetings to new and returning readers!

If you’re one of the latter, welcome back! If you’re one of the former, I’ve attempted to write this story so that reading the previous one, (Before the Storm: The Rise of Firefly) is unnecessary, but is still encouraged as it explains in exact terms how Firefly becomes the warrior and leader you will shortly see (she was NOT born a badass; she had to earn her skills) and how the Gryphon invasion came about. It also gives the backstories of the stallions and mares who will become the founding members of her Bolt Knights; the elite group that would one day become the Wonderbolts.

For those who are curious, Firefly first appeared in part 65 of the Turnabout Storm novelization channeled by Maya Fey (no, really), and later in chapter 11 of The Lawyer and the Unicorn. This series of stories actually sprung from the latter, which I will not link here because it is M-rated. If you’re interested, it’s available in my story page.

All that said, I emphasize again it is NOT necessary to read any other story before this one. Though this is a sequel and canon to two verses, it can be enjoyed as a standalone story; a sword-and-sorcery tale of a dark time in Equestria’s past. Enjoy!

Part 1 - First Blood

Greetings to all new and returning readers. If you belong to the latter, welcome back to this tale, which now crosses into the story of the Pony/Gryphon War itself. If you are one of the former, know that I normally open chapters with introductions such as this to clear my head and focus my thoughts on what I wish to write about.

Know also that perspective will occasionally shift to those of my friends and even former foes, as my story cannot be told without theirs. And last, but not least, know that although this is a sequel, I am attempting to write this story such that reading the previous volume is unnecessary. But ‘tis encouraged, as it tells the story of both me and my future Bolt Knight brethren; how we became the soldiers and warriors you see here now.

As I begin the second book of this series, I find myself quite contemplative, lost in memories of friends fallen and battles past. To be a soldier is to know sacrifice and loss, and no matter how much I came to revel in the rush of battle, I never lost sight of the fact that being a warrior meant death and killing.

‘Twas a constant effort to not cross the line from soldier to killer, to not lose myself in bloodlust and hatred as others did. Sometimes ‘twas easy, but at other times decidedly not as I saw my friends and allies fall, or worse, Equestria being steadily overrun and her fate teetering on the brink of defeat.

War is a harsh training ground; the most severe of instructors where the penalty for not knowing your foes or giving them proper respect is death. I daresay ‘twas a lesson that both sides had to learn at different points, and here as our war began in front of Outpost Epsilon, ‘twas the Empire’s turn to be humbled…

Though Prelate Gaius and his legions would also prove they could learn from their mistakes and adjust to our tactics all too quickly, to our equally great cost.

The War Begins

Facing five hundred crossbows along with the rest of my two-hundred strong battalion was not how I envisioned fighting the gryphons.

And yet, here we were, looking down the wrong end of their sights as, by their Tribune’s orders, they were all triggered at once and their bolts let fly in a massive volley. Even with our speed and evasiveness, by sheer volume of arrows they could probably take out a quarter to a third of us in mere moments...

If we hadn’t already planned a strategy to counter massed fire, one the average Aerial Corps border base did not have available to them.

Let it be said here and now that gryphon soldiers are well-trained and good shots with their crossbows—far better than the average raider we faced in the past, methinks. But we were fully aware of this fact and also practiced evading them, and we had another means at our disposal to block them as magical shields flared into existence around us, projected by First Sergeant Still Way and our healer unicorn team watching from below—a prearranged tactic designed to let us take our enemy by surprise and the reason we were in close formation.

It worked as the bolts splintered hard against the barriers, and as they were using simple steel bolts designed to penetrate the light armor Corps soldiers normally wore instead of magic shields, not one reached us, though a couple of the bubbles projected by the less-powerful healers did visibly weaken from the sheer volume of hits.

But they held long enough. Once the volley was spent, the shields dropped as quickly as they were raised, and our retaliation was instant as we charged in two company-sized columns right for the middle of their diffuse formation, Fell Flight at the head of one and myself leading the other, trying to close the distance before the gryphon soldiers could reload or draw their swords after their failed strike.

Two crystal clicks meant ‘twas my choice of tactics to attack their center head-on in companies, enabling us to split their force and then fan outwards. ‘Twould allow us to drop dozens of Talons with our wingblades before they could recover from their mistaken strategy, one that showed very little respect for our speed or striking power. I saw the commander’s eyes go wide as she realized what was happening and tried to shout orders, but by then ‘twas far too late.

We covered the fifty yards separating us in less than two seconds, causing consternation as the Talons realized they’d been tricked and there was no time for a second volley. Several dropped their crossbows and went immediately for the swords strapped to their backs whilst the smarter ones dove hard for the deck, sensing that hovering in the air in the face of charging pegasi armed with wingblades and no comrades within twenty feet was suicide. Hovering in front of her formation as she was, the Sub-Tribune fell first to my blades as our two formations made contact, Fell Flight and I in the lead.

In swift succession I cut down not just the cohort commander, easily evading her panicked lunge, but two, three, then four more Talons with frightening ease. I dodged their swings and parries, catching the second before he could even draw and in another instance slicing right through a sword to decapitate an eagless who wore the insignia of a Decurion, cutting her scream short. Though certainly much better than raiders, they may as well have been moving in slow-motion for as much as they bothered me; after six months of Armored Guardspony basic and another half a year training with a Black Lance and blade expert like Swift Strike (who even then I still couldn’t best!), Talon regulars were nothing to me.

And as it turned out, ‘twas little different for Fell Flight, or even my rank-and-file as squad leaders dispatched their flights to engage individual gryphons four to one as per Equestrian Aerial Corps combat doctrine, slaying their opponents quickly with nary a casualty of their own to start. My thestral-eyed second concentrated her efforts on the higher-ranked gryphons and even bowled a couple over with a wind gust, wisely keeping our formations entangled as much as possible so our close-quarters advantage would be maximized and the flanking gryphons couldn’t use their crossbows again without endangering their own.

Irregular gryphon fighters like the raider groups we normally fought would have broken under such an onslaught as my forces dropped nearly fifty Talon soldiers in under twenty seconds. But to their credit, the gryphon warriors recovered quickly despite the loss of their commander and shock of our attack. Centurions out on the wings directed their units to close up and go in as tight formations of decades—their squad equivalent—in arrowhead formations of their own, blades bared in front with crossbows wielded on the wings, providing covering fire for the spearhead. ‘Twas a standard Talon tactic, making challenging them head-on a dangerous proposition.

But that in turn left them vulnerable to other tactics as, in response to another order shouted into my red gem, our weather platoon took advantage of their preoccupation with my main force to suddenly rise up from inside the base and open up on our adversaries, powerful lightning bolts lancing out from our stockpiled storm clouds. They targeted entire decades in flight and sometimes took half of them out at once, each strike killing several and scattering the rest.

Recognizing the new threat, another flanking centurion redirected his force to take out our six storm cloud teams, dispatching his hundred warriors to the ground below. ‘Twas normally the right tactic; the gryphon NCO clearly knew our weather platoon would be vulnerable due to lack of mobility in moving clouds around and having to keep them still to fire, but they quickly realized they were protected in other ways as a surprise strike of longbow arrows from First Sergeant Still Way and the six unicorns of our healer team met them; three volleys dropping fifteen gryphons on approach.

Their longbow fire was further augmented with thrown spears and the wrist-mounted crossbow bolts from our one earth pony soldier, another stallion Guardspony named Spear Sergeant Steelheart, who slew three of his own, one of his spears impaling the Centurion himself.

Still Way had trained the outpost’s unicorn healers well, and, being a veteran Guardspony whose gold armor marked him as having ascended to the ranks of Celestia’s personal bodyguards, he knew plenty of other magical tricks, firing off spells and curses to various effects. ‘Twas the first time I’d seen what a veteran Guardspony unicorn could truly accomplish, and ‘twas certainly impressive as his incantations caused confusion and disorientation in the attacking century’s ranks; a few Talons even turned their blades on their comrades before recovering their senses. This allowed Steelheart, the unicorns and our weather teams to concentrate their fire and decimate their ranks further, finally forcing them to break off the attack with the loss of nearly half of a century. Our weather platoon then turned their attention back on the main Talon body, picking off isolated soldiers one by one.

Their formations disrupted by our unexpected tactics and the surprise presence of unicorn support—Corps healers normally didn’t fight—caught between our wingblades, longbows and lightning bolts, the remaining gryphons did the only thing they could: they closed into melee range with my main body of troops in hopes their remaining numbers could tell and that close-quarters would preclude further ranged attacks.

‘Twas a desperate tactic, borne of their losses which by then were approaching a century and a half as Talon after Talon fell from the sky into the canyon below. Given our own losses of perchance a dozen soldiers, that still left them with nearly a two-to-one advantage in numbers, and they attempted to take advantage by going back to back, soldiers from different decades and centuries intermingling as they waged aerial battle with us. But in the end, after the eight months of the intensive Guardspony-style training I’d given my Aerial Corps battalion, we were just too good, too fast, and too much.

In truth, I needed to give few orders in the battle after the initial ones, as Fell Flight and my platoon leaders commanded quite effectively. Even Snow Squall impressed; he may have lacked our specialized training but not for skill or experience, as befit a stallion of his rank. For myself, I simply intervened where my soldiers seemed to be having some difficulty, making it a point to target a particularly skilled centurion and a few other higher-ranked NCOs, easily spotted by their additional armor and command chains. All fell to me quickly; their skill insufficient and armor ineffective against a Guardspony like myself and Guardspony-wielded wingblades. In the end, I had not endured six months of Armored Guardspony basic and the oft-brutal training of my stallion mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear, to be anything but the well-honed warrior I was, and it paid here as I suffered not so much as a graze to my armor during this course of this first battle.

I don’t know how many I slew, and in truth it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that after just two minutes of combat, the gryphons broke after suffering the loss of nearly half their force, fleeing back across the canyon with the ragged remains of their cohort and most of their NCOs and best soldiers dead. ‘Twas the sole surviving Optio that finally gave the order to retreat, leading the rearguard as we gave only partial chase.

Once they had fully withdrawn into Gryphon territory, we halted our pursuit and turned back to base. As we landed, Sergeant Blindside went to the healers to take stock of our casualties, our unicorn contingent having put down their longbows to tend to the wounded, levitating them up and into the infirmary for treatment. After a minute of conference with the head healer, she came back and saluted crisply. “The news is mostly good, ma’am. We have two ponies with minor injuries; they’ll be up and about in a bit. Eight have more serious injuries ranging from sword to crossbow wounds, and will likely not be able to fight for the near future.” She then took a breath, closing her visible eye in deep regret before opening it again. “Five dead, ma’am.”

I sighed and nodded slowly. While nowhere near as bad as it could have been, every pony lost was one less set of wingblades I’d have defending the base from the next attack. I was under no illusions that this defeat would dissuade the gryphons; they had made their declaration of war plain. And having learned some painful lessons here, ‘twas no doubt in my mind the next attack would address the first one’s weaknesses and be far more difficult to fight off.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” I returned her salute, noting she didn’t bear a single mark or wound of her own despite her bloodied blades. ‘Twas not surprising in the least—she’d overcome her lack of depth perception by developing an almost otherworldly awareness of her surroundings using her other senses to the point she could dodge arrows in flight with ease; even I had a hard time tagging her in training spars. “Don’t worry about compiling reports or any of your adjutant duties for now; I’ll deal with them. In the meantime, as per our rotation, keep your platoon on ready alert and police the grounds. If you find any wounded or hiding gryphons, bring them in. Methinks we might be able to use them as bargaining chips later.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” she gave me the standard Corps acknowledgement of orders as she saluted again, then flew off to direct her platoon as I considered my next move, knowing we had only won the opening battle, not the war itself.

Opening Round

As I scanned the battlefield contemplating our options, a surprising figure caught my eye, and I immediately flew over to meet the one gryphon we knew who was not an enemy. “Gavian? What are you doing outside?” I asked my adopted son, a young sky gryphon named Gavian Ravenoff who had defected from the Empire following a failed raid eight months earlier. “I told you to remain out of sight!” I scolded him gently, fearful of him being out in the open… even if he was being watched over by Epsilon’s resident Black Lance, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike, an unassuming and undercover sixteen-year veteran of the Aerial Corps’ Special Operations Battalion who had originally been assigned as a bodyguard to protect Gavian when he had first arrived.

That was nine months earlier, though methinks it seemed like a small eternity since then. Despite his slight stature and Trottingham airs, Swift Strike was a phenomenally fast and deadly warrior of shadow, skilled with blades of every size and type, including gryphon ones. Even for as long as he’d been training me in such arts, I still couldn’t best him, though I could at least now hold my own against him quite well. I had elected to keep him out of the battle for now to watch over Gavian and protect the healers as they did their work in the infirmary; he was lethal in close quarters and ‘twas the best place for him.

Gavian was startled by my voice, pausing from where he was picking up a Talon crossbow and quiver he’d taken off a fallen eagless, his green eyes widening as they fixed on me. He had a brief look like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, but then answered me directly. “My-my apologies, mother. ‘Tis just that, well… since the battle was over, I thought perchance I could obtain a crossbow, since you assigned me to guard the infirmary?” he offered with a bared neck and hopeful air that suggested he truly did wish to fight, my orders to stay hidden in the infirmary notwithstanding.

“‘Twas my idea, Ma’am,” Swift Strike spoke up. “I thought he could use some armor and a ranged weapon.”

“I see…” I blinked at his statement, and mentally kicked myself for not thinking of it first. But sixteen years of age, Gavian Ravenoff had been abandoned by his soldier parents at the age of five for being too small and weak, and in perchance an even worse sin for warrior-oriented gryphon society, for having apparent aptitude for art instead of combat. As an orphan myself, I could not fathom such treatment as he’d received, but in the end he’d been left to fend for himself, forced to steal and scavenge just to stay alive, eventually joining a raider group out of desperation and a simple desire to belong.

Fortunate not to be killed by us in the raid he’d taken part in, he had been taken prisoner instead and proven key to uncovering an Imperial plot to implant mind-control gems in our soldiers—ones that would cause them to turn on their own comrades and commanders when the time was right. Attempting to silence him, the Empire had sent Ravens—elite assassins of their intelligence service, the Office of Owls—after him in a raid that cost me six soldiers; it took the combined efforts of me and Swift Strike to defeat their force. For saving him, Gavian had thrown his lot in with us; his loyalty was not to the Empire who thought his life worthless but to the race who had spared him, accepted him, and even allowed him to finally develop his artistic talents.

Offered asylum and eventually granted Equestrian citizenship by Celestia herself for the vital information he had offered us, he had grown quite attached to me to the point he called me mother, though it took him risking his life in a duel with one of my own soldiers before I finally saw that my feelings towards him had grown surprisingly parental as well. An earnest and endearing lad who was eager to learn and who had surprisingly flourished under our care, he had taken to pony society quite readily over time, learning our language and had greatly enjoyed the tour of greater Equestria I had taken him on but weeks earlier…

Though at that moment it might as well have been a lifetime ago.

As he completely lacked all schooling, we’d been teaching him everything from reading to math, and he’d also been undergoing combat training with Swift Strike to ensure he could protect himself should the gryphons—or even my own disgruntled soldiers—threaten him. After eight months of practice and finally getting enough food, ‘twas no doubt in my mind that he could fight; he’d gotten quite good with the sheathed scimitar on his back, which had formerly belonged to one of the Ravens sent to kill him. ‘Twas a good blade, one far better-made than the average Talon scimitar. And one now having a far more worthy owner.

In any event, I trusted him implicitly, and methinks he and Swift Strike were right—he could certainly use a ranged weapon, and as we hadn’t thought to teach him how to use a longbow, a purloined crossbow would work wonderfully in its place. Thus, I nodded in approval at him, even as I still hoped I could keep him out of combat, as I daresay any mother would their son.

“As you were. If you can find some armor that fits you, take it as well and use your art supplies to paint it light blue so you’re recognizable,” I instructed him, choosing that hue because ‘twas the color of the light Aerial Corps armor most of my soldiers wore. He certainly had enough paint to do the job; he’d turned half my stateroom into an art studio over time. “Be quick about it, though, we don’t know when they’ll be back. I don’t want you visible if they are,” I reminded him, worried he could be slain by accident by my own soldiers… or as a traitor by the Talons.

“I will obey,” he promised me, baring his throat in a now-familiar gryphon gesture of respect and supplication as he took the crossbow, divesting several corpses of their bolts before flying back with Swift Strike to my stateroom window. I watched him depart and then turned my attention back to my battalion, wondering how long before the next Talon attack and what it would involve. We’d caught this first force by surprise with our tactics and elite-level skill, but ‘twas certain the survivors would be reporting how we’d fought them. The gryphons weren’t foals—they had proven quite able to learn from their mistakes in the past; a second strike would doubtless address the first one’s weaknesses and be far more difficult to beat back.

‘Twas a chilling thought and like me, my senior officers were rather grim-faced, knowing that another attack was inevitable; ‘twas just a question of when. Some of my rank-and-file, however, seemed unduly cheery, believing our victory to be decisive. “Let’s break out the ale, fillies! Methinks we deserve a treat for our victory!” one of my squad leaders, Corporal Weiss Blitz, said to cheers as she high-hoofed her squadmates, pinwheeling her hooves in celebration.

I didn’t mind some initial celebration after winning our first battle, but this crossed the line. I expected Fell Flight was about lay into the overconfident mare for thinking this was no different than than pushing back a raider group, but somepony else was faster. “Victory?” Sergeant Blindside asked, her voice carrying across Epsilon’s courtyard, silencing some similar conversations that had cropped up. My one-eyed adjutant took off into a hover, making sure everypony could see her. “You call this a victory, Weiss? You think that bloodying one cohort is cause for celebration?” she called to her subordinate from above.

Her tone clearly indicated the correct answer was ‘no’, and several of Weiss’s privates quickly and wisely lost their cheer. However, the corporal herself seemed oblivious. “Why not, Sergeant? If that’s as bad as it gets and this is all the Talons can do, methinks this ‘war’ will be over quickly!”

Up until that point, I’d never known Blindside to threaten violence outside of a spar (excepting, perhaps, her encounter with her estranged sire, Captain Monsoon of the Corps’ 4th division). But I hadn’t named her my adjutant because she was slow-witted, or a platoon commander because she had no fighting spirit. Though generally slow to rile, I learned right then that she had as low a tolerance as Fell Flight or I did for obvious stupidity.

Sparing me the trouble, she flew right up to Weiss, and struck her hard enough to knock the other mare sideways, then hauled her up and threw her against a wall. “You foal! This is just the start! You heard their leader; this is just the very tip of the spear! Those were their regular forces, true, but they have far more elite units waiting in the wings! If these had been Knights or Magi, ‘tis certain we’d have lost far more than five ponies, guaranteed!”

“She’s right,” Master Sergeant Stormrunner spoke up next, his golden armor pristine but blades bloodied; methinks my fellow Guardspony had taken out nearly as many Talon soldiers as I did. “Heed my words and heed them well, soldiers of the Corps! We beat off one attack, but more will follow! Be under no illusions and do not drop your guard! One battle will not win this war!”

I appreciated his words. Along with Still Way and Steelheart, Stormrunner was one of three Celestial Guardspony stallions originally assigned to the base to protect Gavian; Celestia herself had given them to us right out of her personal guard as a visible sign of her favor to our young gryphon friend. Their presence had paid off quite well in training my troops and now directly in battle; they were all elite soldiers and I daresay had helped turn my entire battalion into them.

“Indeed,” I finally spoke up. “We won a battle, nothing more! ‘Tis but the first of many fights to come, so stand fast and stand ready, warriors of Outpost Epsilon!” Normally I would call them soldiers, but for all their training and superb performance this day, they had more than earned the higher title, one any pegasus would be honored to receive. “They will come again, and undoubtedly before this day is out. We must detect their approach early, so we remain on war alert and all soldiers must be ready to fly and fight at a moment’s notice! Master Sergeant!” I called to Fell Flight next, seeing her returning from pursuit.

She instantly flew up and landed before me, saluting crisply. She’d received one minor wound herself in the form of a grazing sword slash that left a red line on her side, but was ignoring it; methinks she’d received far worse in spars with me over the months I’d been training her. “Reporting, ma’am!” she told me in deep respect despite her larger size, a far cry from the open disdain she had first greeted me with so many months earlier. A respect I now returned, as she had proven herself a superb second and soldier, a six-year Corps veteran who had a lengthy list of accolades to her name, including the Corps’ highest award for bravery.

“Master Sergeant, I am heading to the watchtower to report the results of this action, then resting along with first platoon,” I informed her as I returned her salute, my adrenaline wearing off after having been up all night preparing the battalion for action. “I leave you in command for now, pending any instructions from headquarters. If none await, you will enforce our wartime patrol and sleep schedule, monitor communications and wake me at a moment’s notice if new orders arrive or the Gryphons threaten again!”

‘Aye-aye, ma’am!” she saluted again, then went off to bark orders. When on war alert with a peacetime-level force, the Outpost went on a four-shift, six-hour rotation where one platoon was to sleep whilst two others patrolled. In between patrol shifts, the fourth platoon was allowed to eat but remained in gear as a ready reserve and to guard the base along with our weather teams, which were difficult to use except in static defense.

‘Twas an indication of how badly we’d been caught off-guard that we’d had no chance to reinforce the border as per existing war plans. If so, I would have had upwards of six hundred Aerial Corps soldiers at my command, in theory enough to defend my base and carry out slashing counterattacks against invading forces in concert with the equally reinforced Equestrian Army. As it stood, with but four platoons plus a weather detachment at my disposal, holding our outpost and trying to inflict as high a price as possible on any attack was about all we could hope to do…

I could only pray it would be enough. As Fell Flight departed, I took flight for the base watchtower that overlooked the canyon, where our crystal communication array was located. ‘Twould be from here I would make my report to 5th Division Headquarters at Outpost Gamma, located nearly four hundred miles away overlooking the middle of Equestrian/Gryphon border.

I could only hope to receive word back that the other border outposts were doing as well as we were, and that given the long odds we still faced, we might yet expect some relief. If nothing else, Princess Celestia had promised the Gryphons she would intervene personally should they resort to war, and she had more than proven to them at a past parley she possessed the power to lay their legions waste. That they had attacked anyway suggested they were no longer afraid of her, but why?

What power or allies could the Gryphons possibly possess that would match her…?

Methinks I knew the answer no more than you at that point, my noble Captain, but ‘tis certain we would learn it all too quickly, and to our great cost.

Greetings, my little ponies, and all readers of this tale. ‘Tis by my suggestion that Captain Firefly writes this account of the war, and ‘tis by hers in turn that I add my own annotations to it. She has stated that perspective will sometimes shift to friends and former enemies in the course of this story. In this case, it now passes to me. I will lend what wisdom and insights I can to this tale, but know for now that ‘tis forever to my great regret that I was unable to intervene and stop the war early.

Divine Judgement

War Council Chambers
Canterlot Castle
September 1st, 1139 AC
1100 hours

“The news is not good, My Princess,” General Claymore, the service head of the Equestrian Army and ranking member of the hastily called war council, reported grimly. “To be blunt, methinks we stand on the precipice of disaster,” she added as I noticed our inexperienced scribe write down and erase the word several times as she recorded the minutes of the meeting, uncertain of the spelling.

‘Twas understandable as she was normally just an orderly. That she was there, called to duty she was not used to was unfortunate but unavoidable. She and all present were the lucky ones; survivors of a wave of assassinations and attacks that had swept the capital and hit civilian and military targets alike; our council was now being held under not just the watchful eyes of my Celestial Guard but of the Royal Guard’s Plainclothes Security Division, well-trained mares normally disguised as maids and attendants that doubled as bodyguards for royals and nobles.

To their credit, they had thwarted a score of assassination attempts that morning but could not be everywhere; we’d lost General Fairweather, the well-liked commander of the Equestrian Aerial Corps and her deputy, both slain in an emergency meeting by a unicorn maid who served them tea and then slashed their throats. Worse, the PSD had been forced to put down some of their own members who had likewise gone rogue under gryphon control, courtesy of more implanted mind control gems we’d nearly gone to war with the Empire over previously. We knew to scan our soldiers for them, but this time, they’d gone for civilians—scribes and orderlies, maids and aides that they knew could get close to high-ranking officials.

‘Twas a terrible oversight on our part, but we’d foreseen neither this tactic nor that the gryphons had somehow co-opted the Diamond Dogs into their plans. They had made this attack possible; in hindsight most of the controlled ponies had been kidnapped by them during their recent raids around Canterlot for the express purpose of implanting the gems. ‘Twas a brilliant strategy and had worked with devastating effectiveness; many dozens of important officials were dead, leaving us still tallying the losses and my remaining commanders struggling to reestablish a broken chain of command.

‘Twas one more atrocity the gryphons would have to answer for, my anger growing as I listened to the increasingly dire reports Claymore was giving. “Reports are still fragmentary, but the conclusion is unmistakeable, My Princess. The Empire has declared war, and we are facing a full-scale invasion along the entire length of our border by upwards of one hundred thousand gryphon soldiers,” the old but tough earth pony mare said, passing the formal war declaration Gamma had received to me.

I’d given it but a single disgusted read earlier that day. I’d been rousted at four in the morning by my pegasus High Chancellor, North Star, who told me that evidence of a gryphon plot had been uncovered—invasion plans and an earlier draft of the war declaration had been smuggled out of gryphon territory by a very unlikely spy, taken to Outpost Epsilon and from there rushed to Outpost Gamma and Canterlot. Recognizing the danger, we tried to get a warning out to our frontier forces in time, but realizing their plans had been exposed and fearing what loss of surprise might mean, the gryphons had chosen to invade immediately with what they had...

I could only hope that the fact they were striking a full two months earlier than the stolen plans had stated meant they did not have their full force available, for the numbers we faced were bad enough. “We know not their full strength or strategy, My Princess. All we do know at this moment is that our troops are in disarray and our frontier defenses are faltering badly,” Claymore went on. “Almost every Army and Aerial Corps border base has been struck by overwhelming numbers of Talon soldiers, and as several have fallen silent, we fear they have fallen outright. In addition, Baltimare and Fillydelphia have been hit hard by raider groups; the civilian and naval shipyards there were struck at dawn. Civilian casualties are heavy, and we have lost at least two naval airships and dozens of sea vessels as well as the docks themselves.”

“I have lost contact with my battle group at Orion Base in Baltimare, My Princess. Even if some survive, I fear the ships cannot be salvaged given how quickly the city is likely to be overrun,” Admiral Coral Torch of the Royal Navy added, to which I nodded solemnly. In truth, I did not consider that too grave a loss. The Navy had once been my sister’s service and as powerful as my Royal Guard, but after siding with Nightmare Moon against me in the Celestial War, it had been mostly disbanded, reduced to a ceremonial force of twelve airships I only kept around out of love for Luna.

I had resisted all attempts to rebuild it for fear of how it would look to our not-always-trusting neighbors. ‘Twas foalish in hindsight, but seemed sensible at the time given the Navy had once been the offensive arm of the Equestrian military, a means of projecting power throughout the continent and beyond. “But that base was… not one of my more ready groups. Even if they received warning in time, I fear they were far from ready to fight. Be assured my remaining forces will be readied for battle as swiftly as possible. But I have not been able to contact our base at Stalliongrad…” she sounded troubled.

“Nor have I. Our communications into the city have been cut,” Claymore confirmed. “Some kind of magical interference we are not yet able to identify. We also have no contact with Cloudsdale or Fort Spur...”

I frowned at that. Stalliongrad was a sizable northern city with large army and navy bases, home to not just an entire Army division but our one heavy-weapons equipped regiment, and possibly our best Naval battle group as well. ‘Twas a proving grounds for new tactics and weaponry for all services, making it an attractive target. But ‘twas also over twelve hundred miles from the border and, though possibly in range of the best sky gryphon soldiers… ‘twould be foalish to strike there in daylight without complete surprise. Lacking it, the base would be much more alert and pegasus troops from the Aerial Corps’ 4th Division, which covered our northern frontier, would be able to intercept. But Fort Spur, our Royal Guard training base, was only five hundred miles from the southern border, well within effective flying range… as was Cloudsdale, currently located about six hundred miles from the frontier as it took its slow seasonal journey through Equestria.

As we had contact with other bases and cities, why were our communications blocked to these specific locations? Unless… “They have been targeted for attack. Methinks the gryphons are attempting to cripple our storm cloud production and ability to train new troops,” I realized instantly, my eyes closing tightly for a moment. “Reestablish communications with all due haste. Order Fort Spur to full alert and Cloudsdale to immediately withdraw westward with all possible speed. Dispatch pegasus runners if there is no other way to pass word, and order a brigade from the 1st Division to Cloudsdale’s defense immediately,” I ordered them, referring to the Aerial Corps force that guarded central Equestria and Canterlot. I might have teleported there myself, but to do so over such an enormous distance would tax even my power…

Power I was shortly going to need. “It will be done,” Claymore bowed to me, then hesitated. “My Princess… the picture is still not clear, but given our apparent disparity in numbers, methinks it unlikely we can stop them until they are at least halfway to Canterlot. Our forces are reeling and I fear the worst is yet to come. What I now ask I would not request of you except in the most dire of circumstances, but…” the rest went unsaid as she then bowed low along with everypony else in the room. ‘Twas clear enough to me what she was asking, and ‘twas increasingly unavoidable as my forces faltered and the scope of gryphon operation became clear. Many had already died; how many more would fall if I did not intervene quickly?

“I warned them…” I said more to myself than to them, remembering a parley I’d attended on the frontier the previous winter following a series of failed but bloody raids on Outpost Epsilon, and the discovery of an invasion plot involving the mind control gems. I had laid down the law with them then, threatening them with annihilation by superstorms and my own alicorn aura. I’d even demonstrated the extent of my power, proving their armies had no chance against me, and yet still they had struck.

“My Princess…?” High Chancellor North Star, prompted, worried by the look in my eyes as the rest of my council fell silent, sensing my dark mood.

“I warned them what I would do…” I said quietly again, then with a flare of my horn, called my ancient battle armor to me using a retrieval spell only I could cast, materializing it right on my body, instantly transforming my appearance from peaceful princess to an increasingly vengeful goddess of war. I had told the Gryphon commander, now-Prelate Salvio Gaius, that if he started a war, I would finish it. ‘Twas now time to keep that promise and stop this conflict in its tracks before more of my precious ponies fell.

With that, I turned back to my military commanders. “See to our security and get communications reestablished. See also to our defense but try to limit engagement until I have… made my displeasure known. This war will be over by nightfall,” I promised them, allowing my eyes to glow golden and my mane and tail to turn to sun-fed flames, letting them see the power I so rarely set loose. “I shall deal with the invasion personally, and do not expect me to return before tomorrow night. For after I have dealt with their legions and slain their treacherous Prelate, methinks I shall honor their Empress by paying her a very personal visit in Mosclaw...”

Author's Notes:

Well, that’s that! Celestia will end the war. Thank you for reading...

No, it’s not going to be quite that simple, Celly. They’ve planned and planned well for you. What have they done and how do you stop an angry Alicorn? The answer will come soon.

I’d like to give a shout out here to my co-writing partner in crime, Leo Archon, and prereading cadre of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, Denim_Blue, TheGoldCrow, and ClaytonTheHunter for all the time and effort they spent going over these chapters with me. Couldn’t ask for a better production crew, folks! And as several of these fine folks are accomplished authors in their own right, expect guest chapters.

Bonus #1 - Gryphon Empire War Declaration

To the nation of Equestria, its ruler and her subjects:

By the grace of our ancestors,
By the skill of our warriors,
By the strength of our race,
And by the will of our exalted Empress,

The Gryphon Empire announces its intention to invade the Dominion of Equestria and depose the Alicorn Princess Celestia. We do so not just for our own sakes, but for all nations and races who fear her unchecked power and suffer under centuries of pony selfishness and neglect.

To this great and noble purpose, we summon the full military might of our Empire to the field of battle, and call upon all our soldiers and subjects to make the utmost effort in attainment of our honorable aims. It is to our great regret that we must resort to such a severe course of action, but we can tolerate the intolerable no more.

For those who may doubt the justness of our cause, we offer our reasons here. Know our grievances with Equestria are too numerous to list, but include the following:

For these reasons, for the safety of our Empire, for the sake of our descendants and for the survival of all life in this world, we will risk all in what is not a war of aggression, but an effort to ensure our existence as a species. An effort we undertake on behalf of all races of the world, as none would doubt that we are the only ones who can overthrow the Equestrian despotism. To that end:

To Princess Celestia—if you are any part of the just and noble ruler you claim, we call upon you to lay down your power in place of the lives of your ponies; to surrender your throne and spare your subjects the agony of invasion and overthrow. Do so and our occupation will be gentle; on our warrior honor, we will treat your ponies well.

Resist, and we will use all means necessary to impose our will and crush your cities and armies. Know we do not wish to enslave Equestria, only to end its oppression of others and bring about peace and prosperity for all. How costly an affair that becomes for your corrupt and decadent nation is up to you.

Destiny is upon us. We will not falter. And we will not fail.

In the name of our hallowed ancestors,
In the name of our noble race,
In the name of our just cause,
In the name of our immortal Empress,

The Gryphon Empire declares war on the Dominion of Equestria.

Author's Notes:

Welcome to the end of the initial release! And I hope your appetites are whetted for more...

The thing about this war declaration is, as unfair and outright misleading as most of it might be, most of their grievances do have at least some grain of truth in them, as the Gryphons truly do feel threatened by Celestia. They consider this war less an attempt at conquest than an existential struggle against a nation and ruler that might turn on them at any time. Celestia showed them her power in the previous book, as returning readers know, and they were scared half out of their wits by her. They consider her the gravest of threats, one that must be dealt with or their very survival is at stake. No matter what else they may say, in the end, they’re acting out of fear for their future.

Celestia will respond to this declaration with her own war proclamation in due course, but first... well. The next chapter will tell that part of the tale, but suffice it to say for now... something from Celly’s past is about to return to haunt not just her, but all Equestria.

Part 2 - A Plan Revealed

Believe me when I say we all very much wish you were able to intervene and stop the war early, My Princess, as it would have ended things quickly with far fewer deaths on both sides, sparing us all the agony of invasion the war declaration spoke of. But as you say, the gryphons had planned well, and not one of us could have foreseen the lengths they went to and alliances they made to ensure you could not intervene. ‘Twas a strategy as brutal as it was brilliant, and to Prelate Salvio Gaius goes all the credit… and blame.

But out at Epsilon, we knew none of what was happening back at Canterlot as the war began. We had our own battles to fight, and methinks my only concern then was saving my battalion and inflicting as many casualties as possible on our enemies, finding a way to counter the next attack that ‘twas all too certain to come.

Before I begin the next chapter of this tale, however, there is something I wish to say. You suggested previously you were of no help in this conflict, My Princess. I must beg to differ. You were a symbol of strength and pride, and we fought for you as much as anything else. You were indeed an inspiration to us all and methinks your strategic insights and battle feats will never be forgotten for as long as Equestria lives.

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AC [Anno Celestae]
1220 hours

I awoke not long after noon.

I had decided to rest in the barracks with my first platoon. While ‘tis certain the cloud in my stateroom would be more comfortable, I didn’t want to sleep so deeply I’d fail to wake up at a moment’s notice. Wars could be decided by which commander reacts quickest, after all. And yet, as I’d been allowed a full five hours of sleep without being rousted or additional alarms sounding, ‘twas apparent the gryphons had not returned.

My hopes rose a bit at the realization, but any thought of good news on my awakening was dashed as I flew to the watchtower and found Fell Flight and Blindside waiting inside, the former commanding patrols and the latter functioning as watch officer, monitoring communications as the leader of the alert platoon should. The grim look on their faces spoke volumes, and my heart sank to see it. “How bad?” I asked as I returned their salutes.

“Bad,” my cat-eyed friend said simply. “The gryphons have made no further appearances aside from a few high-altitude overflights, but we’ve only had sporadic contact with division headquarters and the other border bases. Outposts Alpha and Beta have fallen silent and division believes them lost. Delta is fighting but faltering; at last report they’ve suffered severe casualties and don’t know how much longer they can hold. Omega has beaten off the first wave but lost nearly a third of their force. They’re uncertain if they can survive a second strike.” My second closed her eyes tightly at that, perchance remembering the friends she had there.

There was little I could say to that. Fell flight had been previously assigned to Outpost Omega, our most dangerous border post, overlooking as it did three pony settlements in disputed territory. Given the high risk of attack, only the best Corps soldiers were assigned there, and she had previously been its second in command before receiving an emergency transfer request to Outpost Epsilon following a failed gryphon raider attack that left us shorthooved. Arriving with a reinforcing platoon, she had demanded I give her command based on her seniority and then-higher rank, willing to duel me for it when I refused. Though bested by me at the time, she had fallen into line and become a fine second, one I would trust with both my outpost and my life.

I reflected that what she had overcome was in many ways even worse than what I suffered attempting to become the first Armored Guardsmare in Equestrian history. I had endured brutal training, but her thestral lineage had made her subject to much bigotry and hatred, her cat-eyes rendering her nearly day-blind and forcing her to get special crystal lenses implanted to filter daylight to manageable levels before she could become a soldier. ‘Twas a risky and untested operation, one that might well have blinded her if it had gone wrong, but she’d gone through with it and been able to join the Corps after… though only over the strong objections of not just the rank-and-file but the then-Aerial Corps Commander, General Squall Line.

Believing she was a security threat as thestrals had once fought on the side of Nightmare Moon, his unofficial orders to harass her until she quit had culminated in an attempt to kill her. She’d been knocked out and left for dead by her comrades on the wrong side of the border, but she’d turned that into a triumph by stumbling on a raider plot and infiltrating gryphon territory to thwart it. She’d single-hoofedly rescued three kidnapped earth pony families, decimating the raider group that did it with nothing more than her wits and superlative night vision, earning the rarely-given Sapphire Sentinel medal and a promotion to Sergeant for her deeds. She’d done nothing but add to her record since, earning a reputation for excellence both in battle and outside of it; ‘twas no doubt in my mind she’d make a fine commander in her own right.

In fact, she’d been awarded command of her former post of Outpost Omega just before the war started, scheduled to transfer there in but days. It seemed unlikely that would ever happen now, and I couldn’t help but wonder if either Omega or Epsilon would be standing much longer. “And Gamma…?” I inquired as to the status of our biggest border base located midpoint of the frontier, home to 5th Division headquarters and an entire brigade of troops. ‘Twas our only possible source of reinforcements at this point, and should it have fallen...

“Gamma has not yet been directly struck but is under siege; as our largest and best-defended base, the gryphons have surrounded it and methinks intend to simply make it impossible to leave,” Fell Flight answered. “Methinks it makes sense, actually. With Captain Sirocco and the bulk of the 5th division’s ready forces pinned, ‘tis certain the gryphons can take their sweet time cleaning up the other outposts before focusing their full efforts on crushing Gamma.”

“In other words, we’ve fared the best of all the Corps bases,” I said with no small dismay, sitting back heavily. “Or perchance just the luckiest to have only endured one ill-led attack. How could they come here with such poor tactics and inadequate force?” I wondered aloud.

“Perchance they do not have adequate forces available given the sudden strike. Or perchance that sub-Tribune was operating off faulty intelligence, and believed us to still be a backwater used for border training graduates?” Blindside suggested, speaking from alongside us.

“Possible,” I admitted as I dispatched an orderly for food, intending to eat where I could keep watch. “And what of the Equestrian Army?”

“Methinks they fare no better than the Corps,” Fell Flight said, consulting a report scroll we’d received via the dragonfire crystal network we used to pass missives between our gems and 5th Division Headquarters at Gamma, giving it another glance before passing it to me. “Their bases and outposts have been hit hard by both Talons and Knights. Smaller garrisons have been crushed and the larger ones are pinned like Gamma, being ground down slowly. Those that survive are begging for Corps support, but…”

“But we can’t provide it,” I finished for her, grumbling as our food arrived, a simple meal of carrots and hay as the mess hall kept its cooking quick and portions light. We had enough food for a fortnight, or perchance a month if we rationed it, though methinks I sensed even then we weren’t going to be here much longer. “Methinks what we have is barely enough to defend our own base, let alone relieve others,” I said as I took a plate.

Blindside followed suit. “Methinks you are right. We’re in a gale without our primaries for certain, ma’am,” she said solemnly, then hesitated. “With respect, ma’am... ‘tis certain if we remain here that we risk destruction as well. As we have no explicit orders to stay, and we are out of contact with enemy forces... could we not attempt to make a break for Outpost Blue? ‘Tis the closest major Army base and at last report was still fighting…” she suggested hopefully.

“Said last report was over two hours ago and the base is over eighty miles away,” Fell Flight replied for me, echoing my own thoughts as I’d already considered and discarded the idea some time earlier. “I do not think it wise, ma’am.”

“Unfortunately, I must agree. If we were to arrive to find the outpost fallen, then we’ll find ourselves on the run, constantly hounded by the gryphons and not knowing where or how far we must fly to reach friendly forces. No, Sergeant, we cannot leave. Far better to make our stand here with our backs to our own base supported by our storm teams than to engage in a running battle with the superior numbers and stamina of the gryphons. Better, too, for our wounded to not have to move. We also have no way of transporting our unicorn and earth pony friends,” I reminded her in some reproach, as her suggestion would necessitate abandoning them.

She fell silent at that, but Fell Flight spoke up again. “The bad news doesn’t end there, ma’am. Division reports they’re unable to contact Corps Headquarters in Canterlot,” she added. “It hasn’t been struck, we’re certain of that, which means there’s something interrupting our communications.”

I frowned. That in itself was more worrying than the idea of being surrounded by gryphons. If we couldn’t contact Corps Headquarters or Canterlot, then we couldn’t receive orders or request reinforcements from high command. They might have already ordered our withdrawal or some other action but we never received it. And just how were our supposedly secure crystal communications being blocked? They operated off dragonfire, which was supposed to be unbreachable except to actual dragons. I thought of several answers, none of them good...

And as it turned out, the truth was worse than any scenario we’d dreamed of. I must commend you again, Ambassador, for your superb strategy and your sheer bravery in bringing it about. ‘Twas to your great credit, and our great loss.

Thank you, Captain, but I must in turn apologize for it, for the terrible destruction our new allies would eventually wreak on both sides. ‘Twas an alliance born of desperation, and one, ‘tis certain we would all yet rue.

Greetings to all readers of this tale. I am Layan Kaval, and for those who do not know me, my name is revered and reviled throughout both Equestria and the now-former Empire for my role in the war. I was and am an elite warrior, the former commander of the Red Talons, or Talaeus as we call them, and ‘twas by my efforts that our plan to cage Celestia came to fruition. ‘Twas the brainchild of my lord and master, an earth gryphon I was then honored to serve as adjutant and personal bodyguard:

Prelate Salvio Gaius, the commander of our armed forces, architect of the invasion, and perchance the most brilliant military mind the Empire ever produced. Though even he could not have foreseen the spies that would steal our war plans and smuggle them to Equestria, forcing us to launch our attack nearly two months too soon. With only slightly more than half our planned forces in place, our work was cut out for us on the first day of war and despite our success in many sectors, ‘tis certain many problems were presenting themselves as well, some more intractable than others...

Imperial Headquarters Bunker
Raptor Base, opposite Outpost Gamma
September 1st, 1139 AC
1340 hours

Salvio Gaius, Prelate of the Gryphon Empire and overseer of the invasion of Equestria, stared at the young Optio who had reported to him via scrying crystal, his talons tapping on the stone table in his underground office. “So to summarize... As your Legion commander was absent, your Sub-Tribune acted against orders to strike at an Aerial Corps outpost without any Knight support, and as a consequence, your cohort has been reduced to less than half strength, with yourself as the ranking officer, whilst inflicting only minimal casualties to Outpost Epsilon?” he recited in some disgust.

The Optio visibly gulped on the other end of the connection; we’d installed the scrying network with great expense and difficulty so we could communicate quickly with our forces all along our far-flung border with Equestria. “’T-Tis true, sir! Methinks nothing could have prepared us for what happened! Their soldiers fought like demons and they had unicorn support! Their commander slew Sub-Tribune Yallis within seconds of the battle’s start and their storm teams decimated us! ‘Twas a slaughter, sir! Methinks there was nothing we—”

“Silence, lad,” Gaius said, holding up a paw, and the Optio tiercel instantly obliged. The Prelate tapped his talons a few more times, then turned to me. “You have the read the report and now heard what happened firstpaw. What say you about this, Tribune Kaval?” he addressed me formally for the audience we had.

I snorted, mantling my black-dyed, red-tipped wings, a visible symbol to all of my status as a Talaeus. We believed ourselves the most elite warriors in existence, and not without reason—our feats in battle were legendary, and you could not join our ranks without defeating an existing member in a death duel or performing a mighty martial deed. Like all my Talaeus brethren I was dyed black head-to-toe with symmetric but slash-like red stripes painted at intervals on my wings and torso. ‘Twas not meant to camouflage but instead make us instantly recognizable, giving me and all my fellow Red Talon warriors a frightful appearance designed to instill fear into the hearts of the Empire’s enemies.

As their overall commander I was the best of them, but ‘twas my tactical mind and counsel the Prelate valued most. “I say Yallis was a fool of the first order. She sent insufficient force into the teeth of a prepared defense. She clearly hadn’t read the updated intelligence on Epsilon, and likely believed it to still be a backwater base the Corps used for fresh graduates to gain some seasoning on the border. As she ignored instructions to wait, perchance she thought she could gain some instant glory by assaulting the base early and without help,” I began in some contempt.

“A rather harsh appraisal,” Gaius mused, though I knew from his tone and long experience with him that he did not disagree with it.

“But a well-deserved one, my lord. ‘Twould explain why she departed before the Legion commander had arrived and the Knights assigned to her cohort were ready. Her exact words, according to Centurion Nael, were: ‘The Talons will be more than enough for such a small, unimportant base.’” I motioned at a report scroll we had received earlier. “Regardless of her reasons, her mistakes were numerous and her tactics ridiculous. Had she survived, I would say she deserved the most severe of punishment.”

“Indeed. She failed to perform the most basic of due diligence, showed no respect for the foe she faced, failed to follow orders and as a consequence both she and her cohort paid a very heavy price,” Gaius growled. “‘Tis a pity she was slain quickly. For such egregious errors in judgment, I would have ordered her execution for gross incompetence and senselessly sacrificing her soldiers. Your analysis is correct on all counts, my friend. Never mind her willful disobedience, that she went in without mage support or anti-aura crossbow bolts ‘twas utter folly in the face of pony weather teams and unicorn shields. And lacking them, ‘twould seem that even a few unicorns are an excellent force multiplier—a lesson we must not allow the ponies to learn,” he warned.

I could not but concur. “Your orders, sir?” I prompted.

He considered my question for a moment, tapping his talons a few more times. “With things as they are right now, methinks we cannot afford too many delays. Her actions are a setback, but only a minor one, thank the Ancestors. Methinks this can be salvaged and our timeline restored,” he stated with certainty, then looked back at the Optio. “Your report is appreciated, young warrior, and know that your losses were not in vain. Be assured your cohort will shortly have more competent leadership—you! For taking command, for leading the rearguard in the face of an overwhelming enemy and for successfully extracting your force… I promote you to Centurion!” he pronounced, causing me to take an immediate note of it so the citation and promotion could be formally made. “Congratulations, warrior.”

His beak fell open and expression went decidedly mixed. “I… thank you sir, but… I do not believe I should be rewarded for failure…” he offered tentatively, to which the Prelate shook his head and favored him with a smile.

“I promote you for taking charge under the most trying of circumstances. The attack failed through no fault of your own, but that your cohort survives is by your efforts. I know leadership when I see it, lad,” he said, his tone almost fatherly. “Accept my thanks and those of the Empire as well.”

Seemingly taking strength of the Prelate’s words—whatever his faults, he truly did have a talent to inspire—the newly minted Centurion bared his throat and saluted, standing taller and thumping the curled talons of his right fist against his left shoulder pauldron. “I will not disappoint you, sir!”

The Prelate returned the gesture. “Of that I have no doubt. Now Centurion, if you wouldst please put the Legate back on…?”

His face disappeared to be replaced by another, this one an earth gryphon tiercel bearing a Legate’s armor and command chain. “I must apologize again, my lord, for being away from the base when the invasion orders came and not being there to direct my legion.” He bared his throat in deference. “I was on leave visiting my family in Cirrus Cassada at the time and did not receive your orders until nearly dawn. I have only arrived at legion headquarters within the past hour and am still trying to retake command.”

The Prelate waved off his concerns. “I do not expect my soldiers or leaders to anticipate the impossible, Legate Galea. Our preparations were necessarily rushed and many senior commanders were caught away from their posts. In any event, you have heard the Centurion’s report. I trust you will take the appropriate action?”

“Yes, my lord. I am still catching up on battle action, but I can at least say with certainty that the Equestrian Army border bases in our sector are being steadily reduced, if with more casualties than I would have liked. Tribune Rialta did her best in my absence, but methinks our forces were not as well-coordinated as they should have been and she should never have allowed Yallis to launch an unsupported attack on Epsilon. I assure you this will be rectified quickly and our second strike will succeed!”

The Prelate arched an eyeridge. “I am counting on it, Legate. And your decimated 5th Cohort…?” he prompted, to which the Legate turned to his side to address his out-of-sight subordinate.

“Your remaining forces will be folded into the 7th Cohort, Centurion. Report to sub-Tribune Octavian at once,” he ordered, returning a given salute and then turning back to the Prelate. “With your permission, my lord, we will bypass and besiege Epsilon for now whilst subduing the remaining Army bases, and then attack the outpost again at dusk once darkness is our ally and we have sufficient Knight and Magus support available. You may be assured that I will not repeat the mistakes of Yallis and the outpost will not survive the night. By dawn, all resistance will be eliminated and we will control this sector!”

Gaius indicated his endorsement with a nod. “I approve of your plans and will keep you from your duties no longer. Keep me appraised of your progress, Legate,” he instructed.

“By your command, my lord,” he gave a ritual response and salute, and then his image winked out of the crystal.

‘Twas then that another voice made itself known, both grating and mocking. “Not everything going according to plan, I take it?”

Gaius narrowed his eyes, and I suppressed a sneer at the newcomer, having no more love for her than the Prelate did. “I did not need to study the Sun Master’s notes to know this simple fact, Primarch: No plan survives first contact with the enemy,” he said, referring to the great and ancient Pony military mind he had become somewhat enamored with following his studies of Equestrian military history and culture. “Though perchance another piece of his wisdom applies here: ‘If you are ignorant of both your enemy and yourself, you are certain to be in peril.’”

Primarch Livia Cassius Junius, the leader of the Paladins, snorted as she picked up a report scroll from his desk and read it, showing him very little deference despite the fact he bore the Empire’s highest military rank and commanded the whole of our armed forces, including her. The Paladins were, in theory, the answer to Equestria’s Royal Guard, as they were charged with defense of the realm and royal family. In practice, I found them wanting, as despite their magic-enhanced strength and stature, most never left the Imperial Capital of Mosclaw or sullied their blades with combat outside of duels. Livia and I had never liked each other, and Gaius held even less regard for her, believing her to be a mediocre warrior and leader at best and not appreciating her constant efforts to turn the Empress against him.

Unfortunately, her presence was by royal decree. After the Prelate’s first plan for invading Equestria was dashed rather spectacularly, Empress Palamecia had decided a tighter leash on his war effort was required. Livia was that leash. She was officially the Eyes of the Empress, and that gave her the right to watch over affairs and come and go as she saw fit. “Perchance that is one bit of wisdom I’ll grant them,” she said as she strolled lazily by the Prelate, knowing full well how much her presence annoyed him. “Still, to lose over two and a half centuries for less than a tenth that in pony casualties… were our tactics just that poor, or were the soldiers at Outpost Epsilon just that good?”

‘Twas a valid question, so I offered my own opinion. “Perchance a little of both. Recent reports indicate their readiness to be the highest among the current Corps border bases. Their commander, Master Sergeant Firefly, is an Armored Guardsmare—the first in Royal Guard history—and has had them doing drills and exercises involving weighted armor similar to what she went through as a recruit,” I said, looking at a report scroll from the Office of Owls that detailed those facts… reports which Yallis had failed to read, to her great cost.

“Corps soldiers with Armored Guardspony training…” Gaius mused thoughtfully. “A disquieting concept, I confess. If all their forces had such skill, this invasion could be far more costly.” He began tapping his talons on his desk again as he oft did whilst lost in thought.

“Is that doubt I hear in your voice, Prelate?” Livia sneered, as always not missing an opportunity to tweak her longtime rival, believing him too independent and enamoured of maneuver and machinations than direct combat. “Are you having second thoughts about your great and glorious plan?”

“Hardly,” he shot back, leaving me wondering again when the two would finally settle their differences with a duel. “I’m merely contemplating the best means to break that outpost and overcome their remaining border defenses. Gamma and Omega were expected to survive the first wave, though lacking the planned second legion, I am told that Tribune Tiberius has elected to lay siege to Gamma rather than attempt an immediate frontal assault.”

“Then I trust you will be dismissing him for cowardice shortly?” the Primarch prompted, showing once again that she had little military acumen of her own.

To his credit, the Prelate did not rise to the bait. He was generally quite reserved in his emotions, believing a cool head better served the interests of a military commander than a hot temper. “Quite the contrary, Primarch. I consider his decision the correct one. ‘Twas a wise call on his part, as the base was forewarned and on full alert by the time he approached. Had he still struck facing their thousand Army and Aerial Corps soldiers with but half a legion, he could have suffered the fate of Yallis’ cohort on a much larger scale. We will reduce Gamma in due course. Epsilon, though… methinks it beyond clear that Talons alone will not suffice.” He tapped the crystal’s base with a Talon, revealing another gryphon inside. “Centurion Nael, what is the readiness of your Knights?”

“My 1st century is still supporting the 3rd Talon legion in their assault on the Equestrian Army border bases, but I am bringing up the 2nd now and commanding our cohort in sub-Tribune Malfor’s absence. We are still gathering our forces, but be assured I will have six more decades ready by nightfall, Prelate, including two Magus Knights. If you wish a full century, I will need some time more to muster them as the sub-Tribune and my remaining forces are still in transit and at least a day away,” the older but still potent centurion replied somewhat apologetically in another indication of how badly we were scrambling in the face of our own surprise strike.

“Methinks that unnecessary, but best bring them forward as quickly as possible. Order them out of the tunnels and into the air to get them to the front faster,” he instructed, referring to the Diamond Dog-dug tunnels we’d been using to covertly bring our forces and war supplies forward without the Equestrian Intelligence Service or their pet Black Lance teams knowing. “In the meantime, dispatch your available forces to Legate Galea, and have them ready to assault Epsilon at his orders...”

Your apology is accepted, ambassador, as you did your duty and did it well. I bare you no ill will for serving your side and doing what you thought necessary to win the war. Firefly herself would say you were the mightiest and most honorable of warriors, and in the years that followed you became Equestria’s greatest friend. What separated you from far too many was that you always served others and put your nation’s interests first. Methinks the allies you summoned, however, ultimately served no interests except their own…

War Council Chambers
Canterlot Castle
September 1st, 1139 AC
1120 hours

“My Princess! My Princess!” I had barely announced my intention to engage the gryphons myself when a lower-ranked Celestial Guardspony pegasus burst into the room, his wings twitching whilst looking wide-eyed and panicked—looks I rarely saw on the faces of my strong and stoic stallions. Their function was mostly ceremonial as I could easily take care of myself, but I did insist that they be superb soldiers, even if only for the sake of appearances. “We are besieged!”

We all turned to him in surprise; even I was put off by the interruption and lack of discipline he demonstrated, unbecoming of my personal guard.

“Get a hold of yourself, Sergeant. We are well aware the gryphons are invading...” Coral Torch said in some annoyance, only to be met with a sharp shake of the stallion’s head.

“No! I mean, we are besieged here! In Canterlot! Right now!” he insisted, gesticulating wildly with his wings and forehooves from his hover.

“What are you blathering about, Guardspony?” General Claymore asked next. “We’ve suffered assassination attempts, yes, but the gryphons are still over a thousand miles away!”

“Ma’am, please listen! I’m not talking about the gryphons!” he spoke in increasingly exasperated but fearful tones. “I’m talking about—”

His statement was interrupted, or perchance finished by a loud and savage roar I had not heard in hundreds of years. ‘Twas a call of challenge whose source was instantly recognizable and froze the hearts of all present in the room. I wasted no time after that, teleporting outside with a bright flash and flare of my horn, feeling my own moment of fear. Surely it could not be…

As I rematerialized outside and beheld the horrifying sight, I realized it very much was. There were twenty of them, all enormous, their winged reptilian forms of varying shapes and colors flying in lazy circles around my capital. The mere sight of them caused much consternation amongst my ponies below, and for very good reason—even one of them was formidable, but the score I saw would be unstoppable, able to devastate vast tracts of land and reduce my armies to ash. I might be able to take on a few of them, but not an entire clan, and their presence here could only mean…

My worst fears were confirmed when one of them spotted me and swooped down upon me, flaring his massive wings to hover before me. “Hello, young godling...” he smiled unpleasantly at me through his reptilian fangs, his voice little more than a low rumble I could feel as much as hear. “Know that we have waited a thousand years for this day. Know also that our clan’s vengeance is upon you, and we have come to cause your nation’s fall.”

I felt a trickle of fear down my back as I recognized him, an ancient adversary Luna and I had banished long earlier, a being even older than us. He was exactly as I remembered except even larger than before, his great size likely borne of his even greater greed. He was a massive creature possessing violet scales, slitted green eyes and two rows of jagged teeth around which puffed black smoke, the barest hint of the inferno that lay within, one that could lay Canterlot waste quickly should he so choose. He was a fearful sight, even more so than his kindred who watched us with great glee, and worse, he and his clan had every reason to hate me… and by extension, all Equestria.

Methinks I had no idea how the Gryphons had gained his alliance, but it mattered not then.

“Dragon Lord Kalator…” I replied in a bare whisper, only then understanding how endangered Equestria truly was.

The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him. – Sun Tzu

Author's Notes:

And there’s the grand reveal! The Gryphons in general and Salvio Gaius in particular would not invade without having plans to deal with Celestia, who has made a few powerful enemies over her long life. You’ll learn more about her history with Kalator in the next chapter, who you’ll soon see could give Smaug a run for sheer silver-tongued smugness and malice.

Thanks go to co-author Leo Archon, who wrote the bulk of the Kaval/Gaius scene, and to the usual prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodFire, TheGoldCrow and Denim_Blue for helping polish this chapter to a shine. It’s always a blast to read their back-and-forth banter and editing suggestions on the parent google doc, and seeing their feedback is some of the most fun I have doing this!

As promised, I will release one new chapter a day until I run out, so you’ll be seeing new chapters until at least Monday! On a side note, I’ve added a map of the continent of Equis to part 1, and you can expect most chapters to have at least one map showing some new facet of Equestria or battle/campaign progress. Enjoy!

Part 3 - A Question of Honor

Greetings again to all readers, whether my own loyal subjects or honored citizens of other nations. ‘Tis at Firefly’s insistence I continue my part of this tale. ‘Tis not a happy chapter in either this war or this story, and one I feel great shame over to this day. For in the end, I was arrogant, thinking too much of my own power and that I alone made Equestria invincible. ‘Twas on this day I was disabused of that notion quite rudely, and reminded that I was far from the only powerful being on this planet…

That there were those who could rival me, some of whom had more than ample reason to hate me. I did not anticipate this tactic or the alliance that enabled it, and I will bear the shame of it for all my ageless life...

Ultimate Weapon

Equestria
Canterlot
September 1st, 1139 AC
1122 hours

“Dragon Lord Kalator...” I recognized the ancient clan leader, to my great fear and consternation. “What is the meaning of this?” I had to ask, even though I feared I knew the answer.

“Ah, you remember me?” the massive and menacing drake sketched me a mocking bow as his brethren circled us at a distance in numbers not even I could hope to defeat. ‘Tis worth mentioning again that I could take on and triumph over a full-grown dragon, certainly. Perchance even four or five. But not even I could defeat an entire clan of them. “Truly, I am touched. I certainly remember you, young godling. Methinks I have never forgotten how you slew my son, relieved us of our hoards and drove us from our ancestral homes!” He bared his teeth.

He was correct, though left unstated in that accusation was that I had help from my sister and army in the battle and that we had done so because he and his clan had allied with King Sombra to raid our northern settlements, inflicting a thousand deaths and razing entire villages to sate their greed. However, ‘twas a thought that at that moment was best kept to myself. “And for that, you would so callously slaughter all my ponies?”

“Their lives mean nothing to my kind and never have,” he answered, the blandly stated sentence sending a fresh chill through me. “But do not let my presence trouble thee, young godling. I see you have already dressed for battle. I assume you mean to destroy the Gryphons, so by all means, do so. They offered us half their treasury and the location of their rose ruby mines for our help, but be assured our alliance with them is merely one of convenience. We have no loyalty to them and will not stop you,” he invited, making a sweeping gesture towards the east with a taloned paw that dwarfed me, only to smile toothily again and show the barest hint of fire in the back of his throat.

“But know that if you do... You will return to find your precious capital reduced to ashes!” he promised. “Know that none will survive my clan’s wrath. And know that I will enjoy every single scream of your subjects as they burn to cinders beneath my withering flame, their pitiful pleas for salvation left unheeded by their benevolent and almighty princess who so cruelly abandoned them to their fate.”

I stared at him in horror, every word he spoke cutting into me like a blade made from his razor-sharp claws. “By the sun and my sister’s moon, you will not harm my ponies!”

He chuckled at that, then drove his talons deeper. “Ah yes. Please do give my regards to Luna... In whatever Tartarus you trapped her in. Such a pity she cannot be here to witness your downfall, Celestia. I would fear her more than you, for she would not hesitate to sacrifice Canterlot to save her entire country. She would do what was necessary to win the war swiftly, crushing the gryphons and then recalling her entire army to fight us alongside her. It might even work. But the Prelate is correct when he believes that you, scion of the sun, cannot take such a course. That you are too weak to do what is necessary to win. ‘Twas ultimately why I agreed to aid him, to see the helpless look on your face right now.” His grin got wider.

He was right. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Which left me with but two immediate options, one of which was... “Then perchance I should finish the job my sister and I started a thousand years ago and slay every last one of you here and now!” I drew upon the sun and ignited my mane and tail to add emphasis to my words.

Far from intimidated, he looked amused at that. “Idle threats do not become you, Daybringer,” he called me by my rarely used last name. “Be assured I am not the same drake I was when last we met. I have gorged on gold and my power is at its peak. Perchance if your sister was here, you might stand a chance against me. But regrettably, you abandoned and exiled her. Condemned her to a fate worse than death, you did,” his words felt like talons raking my very flesh. “We rather enjoyed watching your war from afar. But by all means, if you think you can defeat us without her, you are welcome to try. Just remember that should you fail... That should you fall here...” his actions spoke for him as breathed a great gout of flame onto the ground below, instantly reducing an orchard to ashes. “Tis not just Canterlot that will burn. For slaying my son, crushing my clan and exiling us from our ancestral home, we will take vengeance on all Equestria!”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I could only stare at him, agape. “Since you seem speechless, Celestia, allow me to put it plainly: Here and now, you cannot win. And thus, your choice is to save Canterlot or your country. Make your decision quickly, young godling. For if you choose the latter, every moment you delay is another of your precious ponies lost... And if you continue to hesitate, I might just choose to disobey our agreement with the Gryphons and attack Canterlot immediately!” He held up a massive to paw to signal his clan, who immediately begin diving on the city with screeches and roars, flames of various colors visible in their mouths.

I had no choice. I teleported back to the city and, hovering high over its spires, hurriedly cast an ancient spell, one that cost me half my immediate power and would take a great deal more to maintain. A massive beam lanced upwards from my horn and then spread outward, forming a shimmering golden bubble around Canterlot, one that would prevent dragon passage and keep their fire at bay. But in doing so... Until they were dead or driven off, I could not leave Canterlot. I would have to stay at all times to maintain the shield, for once I left or my power faltered, it would collapse within seconds and Canterlot would burn in dragonfire.

Even as the barrier went up and I denied Kalator his prize, he and his clan laughed from outside of it, all of them looking strangely satisfied. “The Prelate was indeed accurate in his appraisal of your weakness, Sun Princess. You disappoint me, but do not surprise me. Just know that in the end, this will save neither your nation nor your capital!” the dragon lord promised me gleefully, bearing his teeth again in an eager and evil smile. “By the time the Gryphon army arrives on your doorstep, your power will be at its nadir!”

And with that, he turned and roared an order to his clan, who immediately soared high in the very air and breathed great gouts of fire overhead, casting a pall of black smoke over the entire sky. The sun I kept and drew my strength from went shrouded, and then hidden as they masked it behind their poison fume, and ‘twas then I understood the full meaning of this words and intent of the gryphon strategy—they were using the dragons to pin me in place and weaken me, as without sunlight, my power would slowly ebb until I could no longer maintain the shield or protect the ponies within. It would take weeks, even months for that to happen, but unless their siege was lifted before it did... Canterlot was doomed.

Satisfied, Kalator turned to me again, his look sickeningly smug. “It is done. Methinks I will give the Prelate credit for this much—he has come up with a most satisfying strategy. I will enjoy watching you weaken and the fear of your subjects grow. Oh, and lest I forget… I strongly suggest you do not alter the rise of the sun or moon for military advantage. For every time you do… we will find and destroy a single town!” he told me, puffing flame around his teeth again for emphasis.

“You are a monster…” I told him, feeling more trapped than ever.

“‘Tis far too late for flattery, Daybringer…” he replied, looking like he was enjoying himself immensely. “So return to your beloved city, Celestia. Cower and conceal yourself in your castle and lie to your precious ponies, telling them all will be well. But you are doomed, and methinks you know it. Know in turn that I will be there when your shield falls and your kingdom along with it; know well that Canterlot will yet burn in dragonfire. It will not be instant, but so much the better for how long I may savor it! I am patient. I have waited a thousand years for vengeance. Methinks I can wait a few weeks more,” he told me from outside the shield, then took to the skies on his massive webbed wings again, circling my city like the vile and deadly vulture he was.

I watched him leave, feeling sick to my stomach. For in the end… he and the Prelate were right. I could not abandon my little ponies so callously, not even if it meant winning the war quickly. I was not my sister; I could not so wantonly sacrifice the lives of my subjects, not even in pursuit of some perceived greater good. But that did not mean there were not other ways to fight; it did not mean I could not yet find ways to win.

“My Princess…?” my generals asked me as I returned to them defeated, but put on a brave face. They had watched from the balcony, and knew the import of what had happened all too well. “What shall we do?”

“We are safe for now…” I promised them. “But we must start work immediately on a means to escape this trap, and plan for a long war ahead. Be assured, we are far from beaten...” We began to discuss potential strategies immediately, but even the one we eventually came up with would take time to come to fruition...

Time ‘twas quite possible we did not have.

In the end, the Prelate’s plan to cage me had worked. I was trapped. For the forseeable future, I could do nothing except protect Canterlot and find a way to direct my forces from afar, and my failure to foresee this or end the war quickly ‘tis my greatest shame to this day.

Still, I did not give into despair. I had lived too long and fought too many battles for that. I swore even then as I returned to my council chambers defeated, that I would find a way to save my kingdom and capital. I had not lived so long without fighting many wars and learning patience; ‘twas then I realized that I would have to fight a long war, and call upon all my experience and knowledge were my beloved nation and ponies to survive. I knew not then how we would win, but I swore silently that we would…

And that before this war was over I would slay Dragon Lord Kalator myself.

I thank you for your continued indulgence, my Princess, and also for managing to uphold your oath. Goodness knows this book would not have been written if you hadn’t. But for now, I must turn the quill over to another pony; one very near and dear to my heart, who has her own story to tell of that fateful first day of the war.

Thank you, my sister. Greetings, dear friends, new and returning readers alike. I am Wind Whistler, Firefly’s sister and in time, her fellow Bolt Knight. Our sisterhood is in all but blood, as I befriended her at an early age, seeing her great potential long before anypony else. She was eventually adopted by my parents once she had proven herself to them and they truly understood the depth of our bonds; the night they informed us of their choice and presented us with the adoption papers was one of the happiest moments of my life.

But this is not the place for that story. Before I begin, I wish it known here and now that despite the fact I wore the title of Bolt Knight, I am not nor have I ever been the born warrior she was. I possess not her strength nor speed, nor her sheer talent for combat, and ‘tis her that rightly bears the glory of our group.

Methinks you shortchange yourself, as always, sister. ‘Tis true that you may not have my pure physical gifts or be the instinctive fighter I am, but nopony would doubt your combat ability or that your tactical skill and strategic sense are unparalleled. Your ability to read opponents is uncanny and neither I nor the Bolt Knights we founded would have survived the war without you, to say nothing of Equestria itself. Princess Celestia did not elevate you to such heights of command for a time on the basis of your craftspony talents, my dear Whistler!

You flatter me, but you know I do not seek the spotlight, my sister. At heart, I am not a warrior, just a humble craftspony who seeks a simple life and to aid her friends. A pony who decided that if the only way she could help her most beloved friend and sister was to stand and fight by her side, she would gladly put herself through the same ordeals her sister had endured so that she might do so. But by your personal request, I leave the comfort of my windchimes shop to offer up my first tale of the war proper.

Basic Training

‘Tis no exaggeration to say that basic Armored Guardspony training at Fort Spur, nestled deep in the southern Applelachian mountains, was brutal.

There was simply no other word for it, and despite my sister’s dire warnings of how difficult it would be and how hard I trained for it under the tutelage of my mother even before entering, ‘twas only when I finally entered that I understood how bad it truly was. We were rousted at early hours and screamed at nonstop through hours of morning exercises. Our sole respite was a rather bland breakfast and lunch before we fell out for afternoon combat drills and weapons training, only occasionally interrupted by a rare classroom session where the penalty for not answering a question quickly and accurately was being singled out for additional attention and training.

Our instructors heaped both physical and mental abuse on us for weeks on end, and none was harder on me than my sister’s own mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear. A monstrously strong slate-blue pegasus stallion who was a twenty-year veteran of the Armored Guard and the Equestrian Aerial Corps before that, he was the only living pony to hold Equestria’s highest military honor, the Defender of Harmony medal, given to him for single-hoofedly fighting and besting a rogue Red Talon warrior, likely saving not just his command but an entire village whilst he was the commanding officer of Outpost Omega.

He was a massive and imposing male and not just physically. His wit was as sharp as his wingblades, and ‘tis no exaggeration to say we were terrified of him at first. He took his duties very seriously; you challenged or disobeyed him at your peril, and typically, less than a third of the hundred pegasus stallion recruits who began six months of Armored Guardspony basic emerged wearing armor at the end. The rest washed out within the first few weeks, as a rule, and my class had been no different. We lost two the very first night and fully fifty percent of our recruits in the first month, a few too badly injured to continue but most having quit of their own accord, unable to take the relentless mental and physical abuse they were receiving.

‘Twas not cruelty that they tortured us, as much as it may have seemed otherwise. ‘Twas to make sure we could keep up even in the worst of combat and would not quit no matter what, though perchance we did not fully appreciate this until that fateful first day of the war. Even though I knew this full well upon entry, ‘tis no lie to say that the attrition nearly claimed me as well, especially during the shock of the first night and week when we were stripped of individuality, shorn of most of our manes and tails, dyed the same drab grey color to hide our colors and cutie marks, and put through an ordeal whose only purpose was to break us.

Indeed, methinks, ‘twas only then I learned the true meaning of the Guardspony trainer credo: “We either break our recruits, or make them unbreakable.”

And yet, when my spirits were at their lowest and I felt I could not go on, I need only close my eyes and think of... You, my sister. My desire to help you. To stand by you. To help carry the warrior’s burden you bore for all of us. ‘Twas not easy, but in the end, I endured basic for you and even found, much to my surprise, that I was indeed becoming a far better fighter for it, much stronger and swifter, though methinks I did not realize how good I’d gotten until I defeated the two stallion recruits who had been tormenting me for weeks. In fairness, ‘twas, less through my battle prowess than through simple power of observation, knowing how to rile them into making mistakes and sensing what they would do even before they did. When I bested them at three months in, I at long last earned the acceptance of the entire class.

‘Twas also good to see respect in the eyes of Windshear even if just for a single fleeting moment, and ‘twas then I finally knew that I would make it.

The next two months passed surprisingly swiftly, as perchance we had all settled into a routine of train, eat, drill, sleep, repeat. ‘Twas not to say that they let up on us—indeed, as they were conditioning us to bear our armor, they kept adding more weight to our training gear each week. But it would result in no more attrition as all the washouts had already occurred. Nary a one of the thirty-five pegasi remaining in my once-hundred strong recruit company were about to quit as we neared the final month of basic, not having come so far and endured so much...

Though for all the terrible trials we had already overcome, none could foresee the one we were about to face.

Fort Spur
Armored Guardspony Training Base
North Campelonia Province, 490 miles from southern Pony/Gryphon border
September 1st, 1139 AC
1330 hours

The first of September began as a day like any other at Fort Spur.

Located nearly five hundred miles from the southern border with the gryphons and out of contact with Canterlot, who (I later learned) we expected to have but one daily communication with anyway, there was no indication to either the trainers or recruits anything was wrong at first.

We arose at reveille, same as most other days, and assembled the remains of our pegasus training company outside in our weighted training armor to get yelled at and informed of the day’s plan, which was subject to change at a moment’s notice... And often did as a means of making and keeping us sharp, able to respond to new orders quickly.

No shenanigans appeared planned that day, however, as we engaged in a fairly typical morning routine, enduring our usual exhausting predawn workout followed by a tasteless breakfast and tactical training. To that point ‘twas simply another normal day for us as we entered the final weeks of our six month period of basic; just another average day in the Tartarus that was our training. To date, the only mare recruit to make it through was Firefly herself; but following in her hoofsteps, eight others had entered the current class…

Only two were left, as I was one of them. I had not seen the second mare since the start of basic, an earth pony formerly of the Royal Guard’s Plainclothes Security Division, or PSD, whom my sister had defeated in a duel mere minutes after opening the gates to admit us. By easily besting even a well-trained bodyguard who was a knife-fighting expert, she’d made clear that to be an Armored Guardspony meant enduring intense training in order to reach rarified abilities far beyond anything we thought possible...

Abilities that we were finally starting to realize for ourselves. After four and a half months of basic, the emphasis of our battle drills had shifted from individual pegasus soldier skills like wingblade combat and weather wielding to teaching us to fight together as eleven-pony squads and three-pony elements. Though certainly necessary to start, ‘twas a flaw that would not be corrected quickly that we trained exclusively as tribes and never together, keeping to our own separate pegasus, earth pony and unicorn companies. In truth, we barely saw the other recruit companies as a rule, which underwent different training suitable to their tribe’s talents.

Morning passed quickly and we fell out for lunch, after which we were told to attend a classroom briefing which would give us our next orders, which turned out to be a grueling 100-mile flight to a remote drill field where we would simulate an engagement with the gryphons. Whether by irony or destiny, we would never make it there, but the engagement would still happen…

And be all too real.

Imperial Attack

Methinks the first inkling something was wrong was when we were assembling in the air outside the classroom after receiving our briefing, leaving me again amazed at how much easier I was now bearing the weight of my training armor and dull-edged wingblades. Our altitude gave us a good view of our surroundings, and as we watched, a single and visibly exhausted Aerial Corps pegasus courier stallion reached the gates of Fort Spur, having flown (we later learned) all the way from Outpost Psi, a distance of two hundred sixty two miles—normally well out of range for all but the most well-conditioned pegasi; even Guardsponies would have trouble with that distance.

He was met there by the surprised sentries and collapsed at their hooves, giving them a scroll just before he was carried inside and taken to the healer house. The sentries read the note to some apparent consternation, then one took immediately flight for the communications room whilst the other spoke into a crystal, then teleported away, leaving the gate unguarded.

‘Twas a very odd turn of events indeed, and as we were alone, we started breaking bearing to talk amongst ourselves, uncertain what was happening. We were then called back to the ground as pegasus Guardsponies started crisscrossing the skies like a pack of panicked seabirds and unicorns began teleporting back and forth, trying to pass word.

They did not reach us before Windshear did, rushing out to meet us, a look of consternation on his face I’d never seen before. ”Recruits! The exercise is cancelled! Fall out and report to the armory on the double!” he ordered us in an unusually urgent tone, and though surprised, we obeyed as the voice of base commander, an intimidating earth pony officer named Ironsides, was suddenly heard through the blue loudspeaker gems.

”Attention, trainers and recruits! This is First Lieutenant Ironsides! Listen and take heed!” he began. “We have just received word that Equestria is at war! The Gryphon Empire is invading and an attack on Fort Spur is imminent! Follow the orders of your instructors and arm yourselves for battle! This is NOT A DRILL!” he instructed, and we obeyed as swiftly as we could, trading our dull training blades for the real thing, something they normally only pulled out for duels and special drills or demonstrations.

But there was no time to organize our defense as alarms began to shriek throughout the base and over two centuries of half-eagle, half-lion figures descended from the skies. Some wore gold armor, others mere leather with grey fur dye, and I recognized them instantly from our classroom instruction and reputation alone—Knights and Ravens, the cream of the Empire’s armed forces and the elite assassins of their Office of Owls. They had sent their best to deal with us and burn the base to the ground, and at their forefront…

A single menacing figure dyed almost completely black except for the stripes of red that adorned her torso and wings, squawking orders and directing her forces in their deadly work.

They had clearly planned ahead as they came in two groups from different directions, one from the east and one from the north. They encountered the perimeter anti-intrusion spells that were supposed to block trespassers, but the two mages assigned to each group disabled them quickly, and their forces streamed inside the base, Ravens picking off isolated targets with their uncanny crossbow accuracy before charging into buildings to kill those inside and recover intelligence, going right through roofs and walls to maximize surprise whilst the gold-armored Knights found and engaged Armored Guardsponies on the ground and in the air three or more to one, dispatching them quickly without their weapons or armor.

We were in trouble. They were very well-trained and rehearsed, whilst we were still trying to arm and organize ourselves for battle. Worse, we were now collected around the armory and confusion reigned; I recognized then that if their mages started launching lighting bolts or fire at us, we would be easy prey.

”Enough!” Ironside’s voice cut through the din, having just been teleported in from his office by Sergeant Bone Deep, the head unicorn healer. “You are Guardsponies, now act like it! Sergeant Major Metalbender, take your recruits and form a perimeter! Throw up a magical barricade and start sniping with spells and longbows whilst the rest of us arm ourselves!” he directed, and the head of the unicorn training company swiftly obeyed, directing his recruits into a defensive line. As only half of them were now armed with longbows, he ordered the ones without to project shields and be prepared to cast curses while the remainder notched arrows and took aim, waiting for the gryphons to come into range.

They seemingly did not have long to wait as the wave of gryphon warriors and assassins spread over the base, picking off isolated Guardsponies whilst their mages targeted airborne pegasi with lightning, knocking several from the sky. A pair of pegasus trainers tried to counter with storm clouds hastily retrieved from our training supply, but an unknown spell fired into one caused it to suddenly erupt in lightning in every direction, instantly killing its crew.

My guts clenched as I saw two of my own trainers fall dead to the ground, smoke and flame coming off their scorched bodies. The entire cloud cache soon followed as the same spell was cast directly into it and all the clouds abruptly exploded in deadly lightning, releasing all their bolts at once in a massive detonation that devastated everything within eighty yards and caught three more pegasi in its kill zone. I had no idea how or what form of magic was at play to make that possible, but if even our trainers, said to be some of the best of the Guard, fell so quickly, then how could we possibly win?

Thankfully, cooler heads than mine prevailed at that moment as I frantically pulled on a wingblade harness, struggling to get it fastened. ”Pegasi! Arm up and take to the skies! Fight in squads and keep close! Earth ponies! Defend the buildings and protect the unicorns! Do not let them take the armory or hospital! Corps reinforcements are en route; we have to hold out until they arrive!” First Lieutenant Ironsides proclaimed, pulling on his own helmet and armor, then standing at the forefront with a spear to give orders, intent on defending his command.

He’d clearly been in not just combat but siege situations before given the surety of his instructions, having us turtle up as a means of buying time. On its face, ‘twas a valid strategy, as with our backs to the armory and defended by the combined talents of all three tribes, we could indeed withstand a siege and be hard to crack by even the Empire’s elite. And yet, I couldn’t help but somehow sense that was exactly the wrong course of action here; that we were only playing into enemy hooves as our adversaries made no immediate attempt to press us, focusing their attention initially on outlying and isolated targets, their mages destroying some buildings outright with fire whilst leaving others for the Ravens to invade, perchance looking for prisoners or intelligence.

Given my frantic state, it wasn’t as if I had a better idea, but my analytical mind was kicking in, and I saw their tactics clearly—they didn’t mind us gathering together; ‘twas their intention to herd us into a place where they could collect us and then somehow destroy us en masse, killing the entire base staff and recruit class all at once and eliminating a major training base in the process. To do so would be to score not just a huge symbolic victory over our supposed best forces, but crippling our ability to train new Armored Guardsponies as well.

‘Twas unclear exactly how they were going to accomplish that, either cracking our unicorn perimeter or engaging a massed Guardspony force, but as well-planned as their operation seemed, ‘twas impossible that they didn’t have a way.

Nevertheless, orders were orders and we all obeyed. As said before, Sergeant Major Windshear was a former Aerial Corps outpost commander who’d seen plenty of past combat, and it showed as he quickly took charge of us, organizing his remaining recruits into a scratch platoon of three squads led by our trainers with himself at the forefront as platoon leader. We followed his instructions, taking the skies with wingblades deployed and starting to circle over our improvised redoubt. We were heavily outnumbered in the air, but given our near-complete Guardspony training and covered by spears, longbows and unicorn spellcasting from below, attempting to engage us would be a bloody proposition, and any single gryphon warriors who came too close could be slain swiftly.

But none did. After several minutes, our defense seemed solidified around the center of the base, and ‘twas only then that the gryphon vanguard approached, led by the Red Talon warrior. Her blades were already bloodied; I’d been horrified to see her take out at least two earth ponies and a pegasus trainer personally. To our surprise, she closed in alone, leaving the bulk of her Knights behind.

”Windshear!” the Red Talon shouted in Equish to our group, addressing our head trainer directly. “I am Centurion Pylea! Your time has come, pegasus! Present yourself!” she ordered, pointing a sword at him in challenge as she spotted him from his Sergeant Major stripes.

“How dare you!” he shouted back, a look of pure fury on his face I’d never seen before; a genuine one and not the airs he put on for recruits that did not satisfy him. “You invade Equestrian lands, strike our base without warning, slaughter unarmed soldiers, and then demand a duel? Your commander swore that when the time came, you would challenge me honorably and not endanger others, Talaeus!” he addressed the Red Talon by their gryphon title, leaving the bulk of us slightly bewildered as to why they were singling him out but relieved she wasn’t attacking. The reputation of Red Talons preceded them; they were legendary warriors who could only earn their title and fur dye by performing an incredible battle feat that usually involved slaying many.

“And so we have!” she shouted back, completely unrepentant. “We swore not to endanger innocents, and we have not! Our attack is limited to your base; the town outside remains untouched! And as for your recruits, this is war! They are soldiers, not civilians, and thus, they and your base are valid targets!” she told him, and though her blunt statement brought a moment of unreasoning fear in me as she announced their intention to kill us, I couldn’t help but agree. “If you wish to defeat us, you will have to defeat me! And on your own honor, pegasus, you swore to Tribune Kaval you wouldst meet our challenge if your terms were met! Fail to do so, and your remaining forces die in fire here and now!” The three violet-cloaked mages with her ignited the end of their staves, the crackling of electricity and arcing of sparks making clear they were threatening to unleash great bolts of blue-tinged lightning upon us.

Windshear was livid. “So you wouldst challenge me at the point of the blade, and threaten to kill all if I do not comply? Methinks you’re just as bad as Calea!”

The black-dyed sky gryphon with red stripes looked insulted at that. “Miyal Calea I am not!” she announced, and I recognized the name as that of the Red Talon warrior Windshear had slain during his tenure as commander of Aerial Corps Outpost Omega some seven years earlier. “He was a murderer, not a warrior, and had not half my speed or skill! Even so, your victory over him is a blight on the Red Talon name, one that will now be expunged! Now face me in a single combat, Sergeant Major!”

Windshear glanced down at Ironsides, who nodded once. With that, he closed his eyes, then opened them again. “So be it…” he all but snarled. “Very well, Centurion! I’ve already taken one Talaeus head, I suppose I’ll just have to add yours to my collection as well!” He then passed command of our improvised platoon to his senior trainer, First Sergeant Sun Pillar, giving him—and us—his parting orders: “Do not engage unless attacked. And do not leave the cover of our earth pony and unicorn comrades below,” he instructed us all, then pulled his blue command gem and spoke into it.

“Listen and take heed, fellow warriors of Equestria! The base may burn, but ‘tis the Guardsponies themselves that must survive! You are our hope and pride! You are the best soldiers of Equestria, and for it, you must live! To all recruits, no matter your tribe, that you are here now is testament to your strength of body and spirit and thus, you are worthy of the Guardspony name! As of this day, you are no longer trainees but soldiers in service to Equestria, and know that no matter what happens to me, that you will win this day! Let this battle and your coming victory be remembered well, and know if I should fall here...” he straightened and gave us all a crisp salute. “‘Tis been my highest honor to serve with and train you.”

“The honor was ours, Sergeant Major!” Ironsides answered for us all from below, and even for pegasus recruits like myself, ‘twas the truth. We feared him, methinks we even hated him to start, but we had more than come to respect him for the stallion and warrior he was. “Show her and all gryphons what they face!” He returned the salute, which cued all of us to do the same as Windshear flew forth to face her, the two elite soldiers landing but ten yards apart and locked in a staredown as we were but observers to the clash to come.

The Red Talon considered Windshear before speaking again. “Methinks you right about one thing, Guardspony. This day will be remembered for your fall. We intend to let some of you go, if only to spread word of how Equestria’s elite fell here, helpless before Imperial might.”

“I have a name, and ‘tis Windshear, Centurion!” the Sergeant Major answered her attitude for attitude. “And unlike you, I do not seek glory. But be assured, this day will be remembered… for you and your force’s defeat!”

The barest hint of a smile crossed her face as she appraised him. “We shall see, Sergeant Major. But in fairness, methinks the Tribune was right about you. He said you were a worthy warrior, and to see you now… I believe he is correct.” She saluted him with her blade, waiting for him to return the gesture, which he did with a wingblade. “Then let us not delay further, Sergeant Major Windshear! The battle now turns on us, so make your move!” Pylea ordered, facing him on the ground and rearing up to take a two-paw ready stance with her sword.

But the Sergeant Major did nothing except give her a smirk. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the challenger here, Centurion Pylea?”

She stared at him, then smiled. “As you wish. Then let us begin!” she said as she launched herself at him in a move almost too fast to follow and the long-awaited rematch of Windshear and the Red Talons began…

We did not know it at that moment, but ‘twas a clash whose outcome would impact not just the fight for Fort Spur, but the course of the entire war.

Appear at points which the enemy must hasten to defend; march swiftly to places where you are not expected. —Sun Tzu

Author's Notes:

These maps are kicking my ass, folks, but I’m going to keep churning them out as best I can. Hopefully they’ll get easier as I go along. So now you know why Celly can’t intervene and what Equestria misses not having Luna around. The way it’s supposed to work is that Celly is the shield, and Luna, the sword. But without Luna or a second alicorn? There’s little Celestia can do right now. Is Kalator right and would Luna have sacrificed all of Canterlot in Celly’s place? You’ll forgive me for not answering except to say that even pre-Nightmare Luna did tend to take a much more pragmatic view of warfare. Which is not to say that Celestia is not capable of it herself.

The battle for Fort Spur begins and will be a three chapter arc, with the second coming tomorrow. Expect it to be suitably epic after this long build-up, a clash of the Empire’s and Equestria’s elite. Until then... thanks as always to my own Bolt Knights; co-writer Leo Archon who contributed several pieces to this chapter, and to prereaders AJ_Aficionado, TheGoldCrow, Denim_Blue and SilentWoodfire.

Part 4 - Trial by Fire

As I write this chapter, I find many old memories awakened, recollections of battles past. I remember well the fear and terror I felt that first day of war, the crushing sorrow and anger we all experienced, the certainty of defeat followed by exhilaration of surviving. Though my contribution to this fight was by no means meager, ‘twas certain that it paled in comparison to the one who saved and inspired us all.

As I now live outside Fort Spur, I found myself compelled to visit again the statues that line the boulevard leading to its gates; the great Guardspony heroes of the past. My sister certainly earned her place in their ranks, but so did another. ‘Tis to him I dedicate this chapter, to a great warrior, trainer, and mentor… and my sister’s first father figure. Though I admit I could not fathom he could actually be such a thing to anypony for as harsh as his training was and all he put us through…

‘Twas not until the end that we understand why he did what he did. Methinks he saved us twice that day—once through his training, and once through an act of sheer honor and heroism that ‘tis certain neither I nor anypony present could ever forget.

Return Engagement

Fort Spur
Armored Guardspony Training Base
North Campolina province
September 1st, 1139 AC
1340 hours

The battle between Windshear and the Red Talon named Pylea began with but a single grounded pass.

We all but blinked, and suddenly they were ten yards past each other and facing away, each with an extended blade from a slash. We heard the sharp metallic WHANG! of clashing blades and even saw sparks erupt from their collision, but afterwards, they were both unharmed… or nearly, a line of red appearing just above Windshear’s hoofstriker; metal gauntlets worn on our hooves that could be used as blockers or blunt objects. Wielded by an Armored Guardspony or even a regular earth pony, they could used to deflect blows, crush skulls... or for stronger ponies like Windshear, blast right through brick walls with a single buck.

“Not bad, Sergeant Major…” Pylea said as she turned back to face him, noting the very tips of her outermost right feathers had been sheared off by his wingblade. “Methinks I’m going to enjoy this.”

“This is not a game, Centurion!” Windshear replied in anger, ignoring his own wound, which appeared to be shallow. “And one exchange will not decide this battle!”

“I would be disappointed if it did!” she shouted back as the two launched at each other again, this time going airborne, and a rapid exchange of blows followed which we could follow only thanks to the sparks thrown off of metal on metal. The clash of blades produced orange sparks whilst those against the Talaeus armor were violet, the release of magic indicating her black onyx armor was enchanted against curses and could withstand far more than the usual amount of punishment. But so could Windshear’s; Guardspony armor—which recruits like myself did not yet have—were designed to withstand not just sword strikes but the elemental attacks of gryphon mages; the sparks off Windshear’s armor were blue.

At first, the pair seemed evenly matched, and I realized quickly that Pylea wasn’t bragging when she said the only way to defeat the attack was to defeat her—as good as she was, she could clearly take on and defeat many recruits at once; even the other trainers were unquestionably overmatched by her. And yet, it also became clear that the two had only been taking each other’s measure in the initial exchanges as they sped up even further, giving us even greater appreciation of Windshear’s full abilities that he could keep up with her. Still, that only went so far. As the fight wore on and I got a better sense of the pair, I was having to give the advantage increasingly to the Red Talon eagless.

In truth, I couldn’t help but admire her. Her movements were quick and sure, as graceful as any cat with very little wasted energy or effort. She had clearly been selected for her ability to counter his strengths well, from her cool temperament to her extremely quick reflexes and crisp technique. I knew not what she had done to earn the title of Talaeus, but she was every bit as good as she boasted, and Windshear, for every bit as good as he was, was hard-pressed by her speed.

‘Twas an interesting role reversal, actually, in that the advantages of gryphons were normally strength and stamina, whilst those of pegasi were speed and quickness. But Pylea turned that on its head with her hit and run attacks, wielding her single blade well even as she kept her second sheathed on her back. If I could describe the average Red Talon warrior, I would say they had the strength and armor of the Knights combined with the speed and sheer skill of the Ravens. We would face many of them throughout the course of the war, and they were unquestionably the best—or worst—of both worlds, possessing superlative combat skills in addition to the best armor and weaponry the Empire could provide. They were never to be trifled with, and woe to those who did not take them seriously. The Empire was a military meritocracy, and ‘twas certain you could not ascend to such a rarified rank unless you had proven yourself the very best there was.

They were very formidable, oft even incredible, but they were not invincible, as Windshear had already proven. He held his own and then some; it became clear he had done some damage of his own as the pair separated after the better part of a minute, both breathing hard and showing multiple wounds in the form of bruises and slashes, chinks in their armor and even some damage to their blades.

Despite her own injuries—which methinks included a bleeding flank and forearm; ’twas hard to tell against her backdrop of black-dyed fur—Pylea looked anything but unhappy. “Yes! YES!” the Centurion shouted in something almost akin to joy, her eyes glittering with excitement and sheer exhilaration as the watching Knights cheered her. “This is what I wanted! THIS is what I have so long sought!” she told him. “You do not disappoint, Sergeant Major! Our contest is a duel for the ages… one I will relish for a very long time not only for the rush of battle I feel, but the glory your death will earn me!” she told him.

“You are still treating this as a game, Centurion!” Windshear pointed a bloodied hoof at her. “You fight for glory and vengeance? I fight for princess and province! I fight to defend others, but right now, methinks you’re just fighting for yourself!” he told her.

Her grin only grew at that. “Perchance I am, pegasus. I do not deny I enjoy the thrill of fighting a worthy opponent, which is something I so rarely receive! But do not make the mistake of thinking that I have lost sight of my duty or objective here, Sergeant Major Windshear!” she told him, then her smile got something akin to evil. “I had hoped we might allow our audience to see this through to the end, but if that is the way it must be, then so be it! If ‘tis a war we fight... then a war your fellow Guardsponies shall have!” she turned and squawked an order at her side in Aeric; I knew just enough of the language to recognize their intent…

Or so I thought. “She’s ordering her mages to attack with fire!” I warned everypony, and we immediately braced ourselves, ready to counter with wind from our wings to deflect the blasts of elemental flame we expected to be launched at us. But instead of striking us directly, three of the mages retreated to the ground under the cover of the fourth, who shielded them as they formed a wide circle around the wooden mess hall and pointed their staves at its center.

Great gouts of flame erupted from the ends of their staves and set the structure ablaze. But even though it was already afire they kept adding more heat and flame to it. ‘Twasn’t clear what they were doing until they switched their elemental magic from fire to wind and turned their staves slightly outwards to the right, angling them to provide rotation in the air around the growing pyre…

And suddenly a spinning, cylindrical column of fire formed right over the burning building, feeding off the heat and air around it, becoming a veritable tornado of flame that quickly reached hundreds of meters into the air; its heat and suction intense enough that we could feel it from a hundred yards away.

“Holy…” one of my squadmate stallions said in shock as the mages started pushing the funnel towards us with their wind spells, their horrific creation incinerating the grass, trees, and small structures it encountered as it made its way inexorably towards us, fed by the very fires it set and spread.

“Pegasi! Stop that thing!” Even Ironsides sounded afraid, and he could hardly be blamed; if it struck the armory...

“It’s up to us, recruits! On me!” Our senior trainer, First Sergeant Sun Pillar, led us towards the approaching monster as the gryphons simply watched in great pleasure, waiting for their unnatural creation to do its work. I worried they’d open up on us with crossbows, but then I realized the hurricane winds we were encountering would just deflect them, and they knew it. And besides, why should they risk themselves by engaging us in such close proximity to the roaring, swirling column of flame?

Their choice of tactics was proven correct as it quickly became clear there was seemingly nothing we could do to stop it. A regular tornado or any other weather whirl we could decompose by getting inside it and using our wind magic to disrupt its circulation. With enough pegasi, it could even be done from the outside by simply circling it in the opposite direction to in essence unwind it. But here? Its overwhelming heat, chaotic winds and flaming fragments being flung outward in every direction forced us to keep our distance. Two recruits who got too close caught fire from the radiant heat alone; one fell the ground dead whilst the other frantically retreated whilst his friends beat out the flames with their wings.

“We can’t stop it!” A badly singed Sun Pillar warned Ironsides, the unicorns down below having no more luck holding it back with their shield or levitation spells as it closed within fifty yards, starting to pick up speed as it found more fuel and embers landed on the roof of the armory. And once it caught... “Run!”

Closing his eyes tightly, Ironsides gave the order to scatter as the twister closed in, Guardsponies in the ground and air fleeing at maximum speed. It plowed into the armory and then…

The explosion of explosive arrows, crossbow bolts, and crystals stored inside leveled the building and everything within a hundred yards, leaving us without our redoubt and the very weapons we could have used to withstand an extended siege. From the air, we could do nothing but watch in horror as some trailing Guardsponies were cut down by by the blast wave and flying debris, and worse…

No longer a tight formation, they were easy prey for the Ravens and Knights that suddenly descended upon them.

The Meaning of Honor

“Glorious, isn’t it?” I heard Pylea ask a stunned Windshear as the only momentarily disrupted twister took aim at the hospital next, where Bone Deep and the healer teams were stationed. I could understand his reaction; we were all frozen in shock as well as the Gryphon Knights split their force, half concentrating their efforts on our ground forces whilst the rest moved to surround us so we couldn’t assist our earth pony and unicorn comrades.

“You should be honored, pegasus. For this attack was inspired by your own Princess!” she said almost gleefully, her eyes all but glowing orange with reflected firelight. “But enough of such idle spectating. I will allow your recruits to see the results of this duel and at least a few to live so word of what happened here may spread! Now shall we resume our little match…?” She drew her second sword and brandished it, saluting him with it.

Windshear looked to the fire tornado, then back at us. He next raised his fire-illuminated face to her, something in his eyes and voice I didn’t immediately know how to quantify. “No, Centurion…” he said, not returning the gesture. “Our match is over. And you have lost.”

She gave him a strange look, her exposed fur and feathers whipping in the hot wind along with Windshear’s shorn cobalt mane. “Lost? Methinks not!” She pointed her blade at him. “Abandon the fight now, and you have no honor, pegasus!”

“Honor?” Windshear gave a short and bitter laugh as he set his jaw; methinks in hindsight he had just reached his resolution. “You want to know what honor is, Talaeus?” he asked her, and then used the chaotic winds against her, enhancing them with his wings to knock her off balance in the air fractionally as he charged in and tackled her, accepting a sword to the stomach as the price for getting her into a death grip.

“Sergeant Major!” we called to him in shock as he locked his forelegs around her and pinned her wings with his strength, then head-butted her hard to stun her and keep her from trying to break free.

I knew not his intention or why he’d accepted a likely-mortal wound, until he dove hard for the tornado with her in grasp. “Here is your honor!” I just heard him shout as with her struggling and shortly screaming form he flew them right into the inferno; they both caught fire just before disappearing inside it.

“NO!” we cried out as the initially well-defined tornado of flame shivered, faltered… and finally collapsed as Windshear tore it apart with his wind and flight magic from within. The previously suspended column of embers and flaming debris then crashed down right on top of him, burying him and his captive Red Talon beneath it; we would find very little left of either combatant once the ashes could be searched.

“By the sun…” somepony said, and I could not but agree with the sentiment. In one fell swoop the Sergeant Major had just taken out the Talaeus commander and the tornado, saving the hospital and perchance, our entire base. His act of sheer heroism and sudden disappearance of the twister had drawn the attention of all, as the fighting stopped long enough for all present, both pony and gryphon to gape.

Our trainers saluted, several crying openly, and my own eyes were wet as well as my right hoof went rigidly to my forehead, giving the sharpest salute I could make. I do not think we knew until that moment how much we had admired the Sergeant Major or how much we had bonded with him over the course of our training. I would not have thought it possible at first, but he had become our mentor and even in an odd way a father during the past four and a half months, and for it we reacted no differently than we would have to lose our teacher and sire.

The evidence of that was made plain as grief quickly turned to rage and our platoon of forty prepared to avenge our Sergeant Major, no longer caring about the disparity of numbers we faced. “Guardsponies!” First Sergeant Sun Pillar called to us, lowering his head and aiming himself for the heart of the Knight formation. “For Windshear and for all Equestria! ATTACK!”

Forgive me, but I must pause before continuing this story as I find myself too choked up and trapped in the same emotions I felt then to continue. ‘Twas far from the only time I would face death or see my comrades fall in the course of the war, and yet... this is still the one I remember most keenly, the most selfless feat of sacrifice I can ever remember. If ever an act earned ascension to the Summerlands and to be immortalized for all time, it was his.

Falter not, my friend and former foe. As I read your account of these events now—our own reports of this action were understandably fragmentary and did not even begin to do what happened justice—I note that the Sergeant Major said he would show my Talaeus what honor was, and ‘tis without question he did. ‘Twas an act both sides would find worthy of remembrance and reverence, even then, and thus I call upon you to honor him by continuing your story, much as you then continued on to fight in his name. I cannot pretend to know your pain, but perchance a quote from your own base commander, then-First Lieutenant Ironsides, will ease it:

“’Tis foalish and wrong to mourn the ponies who died. Rather we should thank Celestia and the sun itself that such ponies lived.”

I thank you for your words of wisdom and comfort, Ambassador. I had initially written my sister asking her to let somepony else finish telling this story as I felt too distraught to continue, but now that I have received your response and had time to think upon it, I believe you are correct. I will indeed press onwards, just as I did then…

Just as Windshear wished us all to.

For the Fallen

I am normally a pony very reserved in her emotions.

‘Tis simply the way I have always been. I have never been hot-blooded or quick to anger; ‘twas what made me such an excellent friend to Firefly growing up, as she herself once called me the ‘voice of reason’ to her previously impulse-driven life. I kept her fighting instincts in check and grounded her, keeping her from getting carried away by her flights of warrior fancy or biting off more than she could chew, as she had a propensity in her youth to find and challenge those bigger and better than her.

And yet, ‘twas all being thrown out the proverbial window as a white-hot rage took hold of all of us, and I felt my own fighting blood rising for what in many ways was the very first time. ‘Twas not that I’d never fought before; I’d certainly seen my share of sparring matches and even bar brawls with Firefly over the course of our upbringing and time we spent together, never mind the five months of basic training I’d just had. But now…?

Now I wanted nothing more than to kill those who had brought about the death of our beloved mentor and trainer, ready to die along with him if it meant taking the life of the Knights and Ravens who had invaded our base and brought war to our land. Now under the command of First Sergeant Sun Pillar, we charged the center of their formation, taking advantage of the momentary shock they suffered seeing their commander killed and the tornado of fire they’d been using against us along with it.

We were upon them quickly and managed to break through their aerial cordon, taking down seven in quick succession with local advantage in numbers and scattering the remainder, suffering two casualties of our own. My own blades did not immediately draw blood then, though I did deliberately angle an attack to make one Knight dodge right into the path of my wingcolt, who took off a wing and sent her plummeting.

Our well-trained foes recovered quickly, however, as another gryphon, this one bearing the armor and insignia of a First Spear, took command and directed her forces to open up on us with their crossbows, firing armor-piercing bolts. We reacted instantly and instinctively to take evasive action, engaging in a series of loops and other maneuvers we’d been taught to throw off their aim and return us to formation quickly. Still, it only went so far; I heard several pained cries and at least one bolt glanced off my shoulder armor. But in testament to our newfound endurance and hardened physiques, not one of us was knocked from the sky for it, those hit continuing to fly and even fight.

But instead of staying to engage them, Sun Pillar quickly and wisely directed us at full speed to our comrades’ defense, trying to reestablish contact with Ironsides and the ground-based Guardsponies now trapped in a running fight. They were trying desperately to establish a new defensive cordon around the hospital using whatever cover was available. The Knights and Mages were raining death on them in the form of explosive bolts and lightning whilst our beleaguered friends countered with spears and longbow arrows punctuated with the occasional spell or crossbow bolt.

The sky gryphon Wind Knights were quickly learning that Guardspony skill with such weapons was not to be trifled with, however, as we saw more than one fall from the sky as we closed in. Sun Pillar fired a flare warning of our approach and received an answering one from the horn of a unicorn trainer; fire slackened just long enough for us to reach the cordon and a volley of longbow arrows then greeted our pursuers, forcing them to scatter.

“Sir! Orders?” Sun Pillar asked as he skidded to a halt before a singed-looking Ironsides.

“If we’re going to survive this day, we need to take out their mages!” Ironsides gritted his teeth as another bolt impacted the area with a loud BOOM! deflecting off a faltering unicorn shield; Bone Deep and his healer team had been forced to abandon their triage duties and join the defense, adding their own power to our protection. “But they’ve got a dampening field up and our unicorns can’t teleport close enough to counter them!” He nodded upward where the mages were hovering a hundred yards away; two were casting shields that protected themselves and a second mage, who cast the offensive magic. An occasional crystal-tipped longbow arrow was aimed their way but a wind spell deflected it, causing it to flutter harmlessly away.

‘Twas the perfect strategy; one defending and the other attacking, making them very difficult to defeat. Worse, Guardspony pegasi had no real means to break through a magic shield without lightning of our own… but the Ravens had destroyed our storm cloud cache early in the attack. We hadn’t seen much of them since, though I’d spotted at least fifty of the lightly-armored grey-dyed assassins on approach. Methinks they were being used primarily to clear buildings; to capture intelligence and trophies to take back to the Empire—proof of the Imperial victory here.

A victory that, despite Windshear’s sacrifice, seemed all too likely then. “Give us some crystal-tipped spears, sir!” Sun Pillar offered. “We’ll deliver them on target!”

“Right…” Ironsides grimaced, knowing what kind of losses we were likely to suffer in the attempt. “We’ll give you what cover we can but have to stay hunkered down here…”

“No, sir!” I shouted abruptly, causing everypony to look at me. But I couldn’t help it, for I knew instinctively... “That’s exactly the wrong course to take!”

The First Lieutenant stared at me in disdain and disbelief. “What in Celestia’s name are you talking about, recruit?”

A fresh lightning strike and a pained cry emphasized my words as the owner’s shield flickered out. “Sir, look around you! If we stay here, we’ll be ground down to nothing! A static defense is suicide! They have the numbers and the air whilst we can’t even use half our force!” I motioned to the mostly idle Earth Ponies who looked very frustrated, unable to do much but hunker down inside unicorn shields and launch an occasional spear or crossbow bolt, their great strength and stamina useless against airborne opponents.

Sensing I had his attention, I pressed on. “With just thirty pegasi, we might get lucky and be able to take out one or two mages, but ‘tis certain we’ll be wiped out in the attempt and then you’ll have no way to defeat them! It’s a mathematical equation, sir, one we will lose on both ends! We only have so many ponies and so much magic and arrows remaining! Methinks if we stay turtled up as we are now and send out only pegasi to run that gauntlet of Knights, you’ll lose your remaining air power and worse, the mages can then simply wear us down or generate another tornado at any time! Once our shields collapse or they force us to flee again, they’ll close in and finish us!”

Ironsides looked unhappy at being given tactical advice by a recruit, and had this been any other training day, ‘twas certain I would have been excoriated for it. But here, he considered my words and had enough sense and past combat experience to realize I was right. “So what do you suggest, recruit?” He knew full well I was Firefly’s sister, but methinks he never knew quite what to make of me; my talents and mindset being so different from hers. By the end of her basic training, she could take on any number of trainers and win, including Windshear himself. But me…?

‘Tis worth saying again that I would never be my sister’s equal in sheer combat ability, but that did not mean my more cerebral nature could not come into play. Methinks I had studied much of military history and tactics over the years, taking to then quite readily, and I’d also learned I had talent for winning fights and brawls simply by being able to instinctively read the movements and intentions of others, oft able to put them down quickly for it.

But did that ability extend to a desperate duel with the Imperial Elite in which we were now outnumbered worse than three to one? ‘Twas certain I didn’t know, but ‘twas also certain I didn’t have time to think about it. So I just spoke, knowing how my next words would likely sound.

“Sir! We must bring the battle to them and force them to fight on our terms!” I told not just him but everypony present. “The Sergeant Major was right when he said that we, not the base, must live! And thus, if we are to survive this day, then we must not lock ourselves into defending the Fort or its buildings…” I took a deep breath to steel myself before I spoke my next words, knowing how they would be received.

“We must take the offensive, sir! We must attack!”

Defying Fate

Ironsides went incredulous and those who could hear me weren’t much better. “Are you out of your moon-damned mind, recruit? You want us to launch a banzai charge?” He clearly was as learned in military history as I was, and knew full well from Neighponese stories how such desperate tactics ended—with all attackers dead.

“No!” I shook my head hard. “Hear me out sir! Methinks I know how we can take out the mages and bring the Earth Ponies into the fight…” and without waiting for invitation, I spent the next two minutes explaining what to do, trying not to lose focus for all the death being rained down upon us, not knowing when or if the unicorn shields would yet give out.

When I was finished, Ironsides could only stare at me in disbelief… and at least a small modicum of respect. “Such a plan is either madness or brilliance…” he finally said. “But methinks we have little choice. If we stay here, we die, so far better to turn and fight! Guardsponies! Listen and take heed…!” he shouted new orders into his command gem, bringing the trainers to me so I could explain to them my plan.

It took three minutes to pass word, and more time than that to organize ourselves for the attack. ‘Twas just in time, as it turned out, as ‘twas also the point the gryphons finally tired of our obstinence. ‘Twas then that a Raven reached the First Spear, and a quick discussion ensued. Whatever was said, the acting raid commander gave new orders, perchance sensing that the longer they stayed, the more likely ‘twas that reinforcements would arrive. Thus, she ordered her mages to create a second twister to crush us.

I’d wondered why they hadn’t done so sooner, but the answer—I would later learn—was threefold: first, ‘twas magically draining to create one and doing so multiple times could exhaust a mage’s power, and second, as oft-uncontrollable as it could be, ‘twas no guarantee ‘twould not turn on them instead. Regardless, they duplicated their previous tactics, with three Magus Knights landing some distance away from us around a cleared structure, whilst the fourth stood guard to protect the process along with a cordon of a dozen sky gryphon Wind Knights that would normally be almost impossible to break through.

The third weakness of creating a tornado was the time it took, and ‘twas this one we then took advantage of, our unicorns teleporting themselves high overhead with two pegasi or one spear-armed earth pony. This tactic would only work once, but once would have to be enough…

Half our group materialized three hundred feet overhead, outside of the ground dampening field range and where none were looking, a nearly fifty-strong mixed Guardspony force that immediately dove on our adversaries, blindsiding them. Directed in their fall by unicorn auras, Earth Ponies drove spears right through Knight armor whilst escorting pegasi cleaned up the remainder with wingblades, attacking their unarmored wings and hindquarters from behind, slaying them or forcing them to the ground where the now-grounded armored earth ponies could kill them quickly. Duplicating mage tactics, one unicorn levitated both himself and a comrade who opened up on the mages from above with their longbows, quickly bringing down the hastily redirected shield of the fourth mage, who died in a hail of crystal-tipped arrows designed to defeat magical shields, her bolt-riddled body falling lifelessly to the ground.

Suddenly defenseless, the mages on the ground were charged by the earth ponies and forced to abandon their efforts to create the tornado before it had really begun, scattering to the air and scrambling to erect shields, screeching for help from their surprised comrades, who were only starting to react to our sudden strike. I watched in satisfaction as I saw the events unfold and a second mage fall, this time to Sun Pillar himself, who caught and decapitated him with a wingblade after the gryphon caster’s shield was likewise shot down.

‘Twas then that Ironsides put the second part of the plan into motion. “Guardsponies! Strike!” We then took advantage of the distraction and split defense to abandon our defense of the hospital and charge for the battle site, intending to cause enough chaos and keep Knight attention on us long enough for our forward force to kill the remaining two mages, then reunite our separated force and finally be able to turn the tide with our new monopoly on magic.

But no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy, and such ‘twould it be here as a series of grey blurs appeared and suddenly a unicorn and two earth ponies fell to Raven blades; the assassins had been watching from the shadows ready to pick off isolated targets and close in when our shields had finally fallen. They slew six quickly and scattered many more of us with tossed explosive gems, then took flight and escaped as quickly as they appeared, letting the Knights regain their bearings and swoop down upon us with crossbows, scimitars, and metal talons, finally closing in to finish us off with cold steel. If they succeeded, instead of facing them with a full force, we would be destroyed in detail…

And as it had been my plan, I feared ‘twas all my fault...

Counterattack

‘Tis said that the gods of war are capricious, and that fate is a fickle master, but something I would learn well over the course of the conflict was it applied to both sides. We had done our worst, but in the end, we could not win without reinforcements we did not have…

Or so we thought as suddenly white bolts of lightning lanced out from above the gryphons, spearing several of them and a fresh volley of longbow arrows reached us, taking down half a dozen more. They were coming from the direction of the town of Spur, and their origin soon resolved… into a charging force of nearly ninety civilians, mostly retired Guardspony trainers and other military veterans who still lived near the Fort. They had pulled out their old armor, bows and blades whilst the pegasi amongst them had gathered naturally occurring clouds from above the nearby mountaintops to use as weapons. Seeing the battle unfold from the town, they had organized themselves and come to our aid, a wingblade-armed pegasus mare wearing a black bodysuit and mask at their forefront, and their timing could not have been better as they forced our adversaries to split their defense a second time!

A great cheer came up along with some slightly panicked squawks as the gryphons shifted again to meet an unexpected threat and we engaged the Knights closest to us with blades and bows, our earth ponies finally able to get into the fight in a meaningful way. And their ranks included...

There was a light grey blur; a different hue from the Ravens, but one that mixed among them and resolved into a knife-spinning earth pony mare with shorn mane and training armor who slew two of the assassins quickly. She showed superlative blade combat skills, dodging her opponent’s attacks with ease and retaliating with blinding speed and strength, slashing throats and impaling a third with a thrown blade. She wore not the pink fur and blonde mane I’d initially seen her with so many months earlier, the ones she’d had when my sister bested her in a duel in the first day of basic, but the light grey dye of Earth Pony guard recruits, and she was the only other mare than myself to have made it through training this far.

The Armored Guard did not teach knife-fighting skills such as she was demonstrating. But the other half of the Royal Guard, the Plainclothes Security Division responsible for guarding royals and nobles, did! “Tulip Vale!” I recognized her as the PSD mare who had challenged and been bested by my sister on the first day of basic. She gave me a startled look in response, then all but sneered.

“So you made it…” she told me in some disgust, her eyes glittering with something almost akin to enjoyment as she fired a wrist-mounted combat crossbow that was standard issue for earth pony Guardsponies, her bolt finding a gap in Knight armor but not killing him. “If we survive this, you can tell your sister that I’m still going to demand a rematch!” she told me as she reloaded the crossbow with her mouth.

“Methinks she won’t mind!” I rejoined as we went back to back for a moment. I used a gust of wind to fling away a thrown explosive gem where another Raven was located, causing it to detonate harmlessly away, then took flight to rejoin my improvised squad and take on a Knight decade, both sides now finally able to fight in something approaching a proper formation.

I’d lost track of the rest of the battle at that point, but I did realize that now three mages were down and, as I watched, the fourth was overwhelmed by magic beams from a dozen Guardspony unicorns. They were out of arrows, but they overtaxed her shield with massed magical force until finally her stave shattered, leaving her defenseless. She did not last long after that, slain by an earth pony-thrown spear through the chest.

We had taken out the Red Talon commander, the mages, and even been reinforced. And yet… what we were left with was an even fight between the Equestrian and Gryphon elite. Worse, most of the trainers were down as the Knights knew to focus their efforts on them, and the recruits took increasing casualties as well; not quite fully-trained or able to keep up with Knights. The Ravens were even worse; their lack of armor gave them a decided speed advantage and they specialized in hit and run attacks, slowly whittling us down.

My eyes then went wide at a sudden thought, mentally kicking myself for not seeing it before. ”Recruits! Remove your armor!” I told my squad, quickly doing so myself.

”What?” the ones who could hear me yelled, and twas certain I could hardly blame them as on its face, what I was proposing was insanity.

But I persevered. “It’s slowing us down and right now, we’re better fighters without it! Remove it, and we will be stronger and swifter than they in the air!” I told him, emphasizing my statement by performing some very rapid aerial maneuvers unencumbered by my own. I had no idea at that point that I was demonstrating the same benefit that my sister’s soldiers had realized by training in weighted armor, but I wish it known here and now that she figured it out long before me.

None of my fellow recruits immediately obeyed—I had no authority to give anypony orders—until a Wind Knight suddenly saw me isolated and swooped in to engage me one-on-one.

Upon approach, he fired a crossbow bolt at me that I barely dodged, the bolt grazing my flank then charged me with his scimitar held overhead in a two-hoof striking stance. Physically, he was my equal or better, as I quickly learned from his jarring hits to my wings, sparks flying from the clash of bare metal.

And yet, his initial attack missed me. So did his second, despite my panic. ‘Twas then I started to realize two things—that I could see each of his moves clearly before they happened, and shorn of my heavy armor, his speed could indeed be met by my own. He was stronger and yet, I parried his blows almost effortlessly for knowing where they would come.

Downward slash. Right cross. Upward thrust. Reverse stab. I realized to my shock that after months of training and combat practice, after years of sparring and training with my mother and Firefly herself, I could see not one, not two, but three or even four moves ahead! ‘Twas then I spotted an opening and my acquired instincts did the rest, a downward cut that took off his foreleg at the elbow with a shocked shriek followed by a spinning reverse slash that connected with his neck at a joint in his armor, ripping his throat open and causing a great gout of blood to erupt.

I might have been shocked at my own actions, but there was no time for it; not if we were to survive this day. Seeing how well I was able to fight and slay my target, my compatriots immediately dropped all but their helmets and hoofstrikers, and soon found themselves likewise able to evade and engage with their wingblades alone far more easily, forming up on my wings.

“We’re with you, commander!” one called to me, an improvised title since I bore no rank other than recruit. I had never intended to take command, but now I had it, leading my remaining force of eight Guardspony pegasus recruits into the fray, suddenly far more effective fighters as we began dropping the Knights one by one, gradually gaining advantage…

‘Twas only then that I dared dream that we might yet win the day.

It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. —George S. Patton

Author's Notes:

Well, folks... I’d been telegraphing this punch since the last chapters of Rise of Firefly, implying that Windshear would fall. I know some readers may be upset, but this is the kind of pony he is, dying on his own terms and willingly sacrificing himself to save others in an incredible act of heroism that will be remembered for all time. An act that will inspire not just the Guardsponies and recruits who witnessed it, but in time, all of Equestria as well. So, I’m sorry if anyone’s upset, but this is war, and those near and dear to us may fall.

I also apologize for not having the map of Fort Spur ready as I had hoped to illustrate the progress of the battle, but I really had to take a break from mapmaking because it is VERY time-consuming and difficult work. I’ll come back to it later, or try to, but the lack of a map shouldn’t detract at all from the chapter itself.

Thanks as always to my terrific prereading crew, whose names by now you know well—AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, Denim_Blue, and co-writer Leo Archon who has already written major chunks of multiple upcoming chapters. The Battle for Fort Spur will conclude in the next chapter, which is not yet complete. I will try to have it ready by week’s end to conclude the opening arc, and then the scene will shift back to Firefly and Outpost Epsilon. In the meantime, thank you very much for coming on board for the start of the story, and hope you’re enjoying the ride!

Part 5 - A Star to Sail By

Once more I must pause this tale to gather myself. But before I complete it, I wish it known, Ambassador, that your tactics to take down Fort Spur and all within it were superb.

‘Tis certain that no matter what plans I or anypony else came up with, ‘twould have been for naught had it not been for Windshear’s sacrifice and the surprise appearance of the retired Guardspony veterans, who suffered terribly that day but proved the old Armored Guard adage—’once a Guardspony, always a Guardspony’.

You flatter me and honor them, esteemed friend, but as I reread the previous chapter, I do feel compelled to correct you on one point:

‘Tis not true that I selected Centurion Pylea for her ability to counter Windshear. She was in fact not the original choice to lead that raid; she was forced into the role as Centurion Hylias, the Talaeus I had personally selected to lead the attacks, was unavailable due to the early outbreak of war. He was in fact the one I chose to fight the Sergeant Major for the very simple reason that he fought the same way with the same strengths, and thus, if he could defeat your best on his own terms and in his own style of fighting, the victory would be all the more momentous for it.

Would the outcome have been any different had Hylias been present? ‘Tis no way to know, but I do note that he survived the entire war and later succeeded me in command of the Gryphon Kingdom’s armed forces; a post he holds to this day.

I stand corrected, Ambassador. I will finish this tale now, and know again that your forces fought superbly and were in many ways only undone by happenstance.

I cannot but disagree, worthy foe. Fortune favors the brave and the bold, and ‘twas that which you and all ponies present showed in great quantities that day. ‘Twas a triumph worthy of remembrance and song, and you should not disparage your own role in it. For as you yourself stated... had you not come up with the plan and tactics you did, we would have won the day and Windshear’s sacrifice would have been in vain.

Meeting Engagement

Deprived of their mages, the battle for Fort Spur was now fought on far more even terms.

But even terms did not guarantee our victory, even with finally having the magical advantage. Gold-hued Knight armor was enchanted, same as Guardspony armor, rendering their wearers resistant if not immune to unicorn spellcasting. The senior NCOs amongst them most of all; more than once I saw a magical beam deflect off a chestplate and its originator take a crossbow bolt for their trouble.

For all we already accomplished, the most we could say was that the battle hung in the balance and we were in a meeting engagement at best. For despite having lost their commander, their mages, and by then over a third of their assault force, the gryphons were still fighting and fighting hard; still trying to win the day and complete the destruction of our base along with its contingent of Guardspony trainers and recruits.

The First Spear led her decimated force well in Pylea’s absence, the Knights were still our equals, and the Ravens were bloodying us badly with their hit-and-fly attacks, appearing and then disappearing with a dead recruit or two in their wake. And I might have been one of them as I took my squad of eight recruits into action, engaging an isolated group of Knights as they flew in a group of three over the Fort Spur battlefield looking for grounded targets of opportunity; isolated earth ponies and unicorns they could pick off.

When we challenged them instead, they retreated before us in what I first thought was recognition of our superior numbers and speed, flying low over Ironsides’ headquarters bunker, which had already been captured by the Ravens. I noted that fact idly as we pursued them, closing the distance quickly, but did not take it to the conclusion I should have as a group of four grey-dyed gryphon assassins suddenly burst out of the building beneath us as we passed, two targeting me as the squad leader.

My heart stopped at that moment. I had just enough time to see them, recognize the threat, realize my own foalish mistake and that the Knights had led us into a Raven ambush… and that as quickly as they could strike, I could not possibly stop or evade them. I was as good as dead at that moment; methinks they had me and at least half the squad in their sights…

Agent of Shadow

Until suddenly there was a blinding burst of light as a flash gem went off followed by a scream. My squad took evasive action and by the time our eyes cleared the two lead ravens were staggered in the air by a pair of black-hilted throwing blades that had penetrated their leather armor and impaled their chests, sending them back to the ground. The rear two were then engaged by my savior, a pegasus mare wearing a black bodysuit and mask with equally black wingblade harness and a series of stilettoes belted to her chest.

A one-on-two blade fight against Ravens was normally a losing and very lethal proposition, but she was easily their equal; though not immediately able to best them she held them both at bay until we could circle back, at which point the Ravens recognized the worsening odds and quickly retreated back into the building through the skylight whence they had come. The newcomer tossed in an explosive gem after them which blew out the windows of the room and would have left the Ravens dazed and deafened even if they survived.

I recognized her by her fluid movements and favorite combinations instantly, having sparred with her a hundred times in the past during my pre-basic training, and the realization brought tears to my eyes.

“M… mother?” I called to her. “Mother???” I asked again as my squadmates stared stunned, befuddled by their close call and my reaction.

“Sloppy, my daughter…” she admonished me without any hint of emotion, all business as she removed her black mask to reveal… the blue-furred and red-maned face of my mother, Silent Night, a retired member of Equestria’s own warriors of shadow, the Black Lances. In hindsight, ‘twas impossible that she not be present that day, given our home was just outside the base; the same home she had raised me in and where I still lived before basic had begun.

“Reunions can wait! Take me to your commander, now!” she ordered me not as mother to daughter but as Sergeant to subordinate, and as badly as I wanted to hug her and collapse crying in her arms, I recognized ‘twas not the time and obeyed, escorting her back to Ironsides. He was behind a cordon of Guardsponies and unicorn shields, trying to coordinate the counterattack with several trainers and recently arrived Guardspony veterans.

“Sir!” I saluted, noting his eyes go wide as he recognized my mother’s uniform. “This is my mother! She led the outside attack!” I belatedly remembered seeing her at the front of the formation as they charged in, kicking myself for not making the connection before.

He looked her over from head to toe. “And you are...?”

In response, she removed a patch on her shoulders showing the subdued seven stripes of her Aerial Corps rank, three upright Vs topped with four ‘rockers’. “Sky Sergeant Silent Night, former commander of Lance Team Two, at your service, First Lieutenant,” she said with a salute. “Sorry we couldn’t get here to help sooner, but we had to arm ourselves and organize first.”

He stared at her in some wonder as he returned the salute. “Methinks you saved us, Sky Sergeant. But ‘tis certain we’re still in a fight here! We’re starting to drive back the Knights, but the Ravens are killing us!” His words were punctuated by a sudden boom of thunder as pegasi tried to bring lightning back into play; such tactics were usually good for only one or two kills before accurate crossbow fire or marauding Ravens either slew the improvised storm teams or forced them to flee their clouds. “Since I assume you’re more familiar with them, perchance you can help...?”

“‘Twould be my pleasure, sir…” She bared her teeth and grinned. “Methinks the Ravens are old friends of mine, but not even I can take them alone. I will need some help and somepony familiar with room clearing tactics to take the lead with me…” she said, leaving me with some new appreciation for her and perchance where I had gotten some my own tactical acumen from.

Orders were exchanged, my suggestion for who best to accompany her was accepted, and a unicorn trainer then teleported away, to return with… a familiar earth pony mare whose mouth-wielded short sword was bloodied. Her pale gold eyes instantly locked onto Mother’s black uniform, and she immediately came to attention and saluted in something I hadn’t seen from her before—genuine respect.

My mother returned the gesture and looked her over. “PSD?” she guessed.

“Emerald Edge,” the earth pony mare replied in visible pride, tossing her sword up in the air with a flick of her head and then shifting herself slightly so it landed neatly in its side-mounted scabbard. The Emerald Edge was a very advanced knife fighting and threat detection course the PSD gave to select members, enabling them to conduct hostage rescues as well as spot and slay assassins like the Ravens quickly; ‘twas given its name from the award for passing it, which was an emerald-hilted blade.

“Truly? Show me!” Mother directed, tossing the other mare a stiletto off her chest belt, putting spin on it to make it difficult to catch.

Despite that, Tulip Vale plucked it in midair, spun it with dizzying speed around her hoof first in one direction, then the other. Whilst she did so, mother suddenly drew one of her own blades and lunged with it at her repeatedly, but the former PSD agent neatly parried each thrust. Their duel lasted less than ten seconds before the earth pony mare made a sudden strike that knocked mother's blade into the air, disarming her to the surprise of all present. She then caught it and threw it with uncanny accuracy, impaling a nearby gryphon corpse in an eye. “Satisfied, Sky Sergeant?” she asked, and for the first time, I saw her crack a grin; methinks she was actually enjoying herself.

“Very,” Mother answered with a nod, wearing a sly grin of her own. “The two of us will take point as we clear the buildings of them. So here is what we will do…” she began to outline a plan for dealing with the Ravens, one that even I would never have come up with, leaving me in awe of her anew.

“Wow, Wind Whistler…” one of my recruit squadmates told me in an aside; ‘tis worth noting that he was one of the stallions that had been tormenting me at the start of training. “I wish I had a mother like that…”

Turn of the Tide

But two minutes later, my squad was in the air again, covered from above by the remaining recruits and trainers and below by unicorns and earth ponies advancing in platoon formation, longbows and crossbows keeping the Knights at bay.

They knew something was up, but also knew better than to challenge our improvised phalanx without a massed force they no longer had, the appearance of veterans from outside the base forcing them to fight many small battles all over the far-flung fort. They were grinding down the veterans steadily but taking casualties of their own; methinks they had lost over forty percent of their two-and-a-half-century force by then… and likely inflicted half again that number on us. Soldier for soldier, they were our equals, but the initial advantages of shock and surprise had gone a long way towards whittling us down and we were still outnumbered.

The reason we required cover was our cargo. Tulip Vale and several other earth ponies were being carried by my squad, greatly limiting our aerial mobility and leaving us vulnerable to blades and crossbow bolts. A fact the Ravens entrenched in the Headquarters building tried to take advantage of by opening up with a hail of lethal projectiles. Most were deflected by shields, but they had some anti-aura bolts as well, and at least two pegasi were knocked from the sky to be immediately tended by Bone Deep, who proved his worth as both a healer and warrior that day.

As we neared the bunker, the unicorns opened up with their spellcasting, firing flares and arrows in through windows to blind the Ravens and force them back. ‘Twas not our intent, however, to go in through obvious openings but only to draw attention to them.

When we were overhead, we released the earth ponies from ten yards above the roof, Tulip Vale in front. ‘Twas a fall that would injure all but earth ponies, and ‘twas in turn the reason they’d been selected for the strike. As I watched, Tulip Vale tucked her head, rolled and crashed at an angle right through the roof shoulder-first along with her comrades, their heavy armored bodies, height of the fall and speed with which we’d released them providing the weight and momentum needed to break through and surprise the Ravens within. Mother promptly tucked her wings and dove in after them, familiar with room-clearing tactics as she was, and took the lead beside the former PSD agent.

I only caught bits and pieces of the battle through the windows and skylights, but what I saw was exceptional enough. Whirling knives, clashing blades, thrown stilettos and even some thrown furniture were intermixed with the occasional flash, explosive or shock gem tossed by both sides. A burst of wind from Silent Night sent one shock gem back into the possession of its owner who was swiftly slain, and the tag-team of Tulip Vale and mother proved very efficient at clearing the Ravens as the earth ponies behind them covered the pair of mares with crossbows and sheer strength, one stallion charging right through a wall to take out the Raven eagless behind it and another bucking a heavy desk right into the head of a Raven tiercel hiding there, crushing his skull.

The improvised tactics worked brilliantly; they drove the Ravens before them and slew a dozen between them, and within minutes the remaining six were fleeing the building to be cut down in the open air as Mother and Tulip Vale emerged out the exit they’d left. The former was untouched, but the latter...

“Are you hurt, recruit?” Mother asked the earth pony mare, whose face was singed from a flash gem. She had also taken a sword slash right through the side of her training armor and a kunai to the foreleg, bleeding profusely from both. And yet, methinks she looked almost… happy.

“I’m hurt, but I don’t care!” Tulip Vale confirmed, her eyes glittering, waving off Bone Deep. “Ten years I’ve waited for this day! Ten years I’ve waited to finally fight! I’m wounded and yet… methinks I’ve never felt so alive!” she told mother, plucking a discarded Raven long knife and experimentally spinning it, finding its balance good and then resheathing it to clip to her armor. “As long as there’s more to fight, I’m not stopping, ma’am!”

“So be it,” Mother said in genuine respect, passing her more stilettos as well. “Then let us continue…” she said as we headed for the staff barracks next to clear it in turn.

In hindsight, methinks ‘twas the retaking of Ironsides’ Headquarters that marked the final turning point of the battle.

Our forces now fully organized and tactics now clear, we started driving them back on the skies and on the ground, forcing their remaining Ravens to ground with massed fire or numbers and then sending in armored earth ponies led by Tulip Vale to clear them. The same strategy worked for the sky gryphon Wind Knights as well; we used wind and lighting to force them down where they became far easier prey for earth ponies, whose strength and stamina told. Even Ironsides got into the act; he slew several Knights personally with spears and his sword, taking multiple wounds but never faltering.

In the end, the one major gap in the gryphon strategy was that they had no earth gryphons either amongst the Knights or Ravens. In fairness, ‘twas by necessity as earth gryphons had not the flying range that sky gryphons did, so they could not join the attack. Nevertheless, ‘twas to our adversaries loss, as their strength and heavy weapons might have been given our earth ponies far more trouble in ground combat. As it stood, once we drove them to ground, the advantage was ours. Still, the fight lasted for nearly another hour and was not decided until a reinforced battalion from the Aerial Corps 2^nd Division, hastily dispatched from Outpost Tau in Coltumbia, descended on the base.

They dove out of the sun on the gryphons, and though they were not as good as the Knights as they took nearly double the casualties they inflicted, their numbers told and within ten minutes, the First Spear gave the order to retreat. The few dozen gryphon warriors who remained then fled for the coast... and the Battle of Fort Spur was over.

Still Standing

If ‘twas a victory, methinks it did not feel like it at the time. When all was said and done, I finally did collapse in my mother’s forelegs, wailing like a foal, all the fears and emotions I’d kept under tight seal that entire time finally bursting free. The others were little better as we mourned our losses and began to pick up the pieces, many of my fellow recruits openly sobbing over the bodies of their trainers and new comrades.

Ironsides let us have our moment of grief and reunion, but finally directed us to set defense and start cleaning up, the base soon garrisoned by an Aerial Corps and Army battalion. The Gryphons would not take us by surprise again, but their one attack had done plenty of damage.

We had won, but in truth, there was little for us to celebrate. Sergeant Major Windshear was dead along with the majority of our trainers, most of the base lay in ruins, and over half of our recruit class were casualties, our mettle tested in a way basic training could not. And yet, in the end... we had not only survived the onslaught, we had nearly annihilated the two hundred fifty-strong attacking force, and Fort Spur still stood. Our losses were heavy, but we had just fought the first solo action of the Armored Guard in half a century and were still standing at the end.

For now, that would have to be victory enough.

I thank you for relating this tale, my sister, and I grieve for what you witnessed and not being there to help. But I am gratified you were able to relate this in full over the previous chapters. You’ve earned a reprieve from remembering those early hours, though I will call on you again soon for a scene I’m sure you can guess. For now, though, I will turn the quill over to another pony near and dear to both of us; one without whom, I would not be your sister…

One without whom I might well not be here to write this.

Methinks you exaggerate my importance, my daughter… but I’ll accept the praise nonetheless.

To those who read this, know that it took much cajoling on Firefly’s part for me to pick up the quill even though she had offered it to me before. ‘Tis no exaggeration that I dislike remembering those early days of war, given the horrors we saw. However, my daughter has reminded me that her story is incomplete without the perspective of others. That my role, and indeed that of the much-maligned Royal Navy, was integral to the war effort. So, with reluctance, I now take the quill in her stead.

I am Admiral Tailwind, and at the break of war, I was a Commander in the Royal Navy, serving as first officer of the EAS Loyalty, one of our most advanced naval airships of the time. We were not present for the initial strike as the three-ship battle group I belonged to was on maneuvers at Stalliongrad when the first blows of the war were exchanged. Fortunately, we were not targeted by any gryphon groups when the war started, twelve hundred miles away and off the beaten battle path for the time being. On the other hoof, this meant we were rather unaware of what was going on for a time, as we were out of contact with Naval headquarters in Canterlot. ‘Twas certain that would change quickly, though.…

Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad
September 1st, 1139 AC
1550 hours

September 1st dawned a normal and uneventful day for Royal Navy Battle Group Four.

Nearly twelve hundred miles from the pony/gryphon border as we were, there was no sign of anything wrong at first, nor any communications from Canterlot, though I do remember hearing from somepony in the communications center that we missed the normal morning message from them.

Though unusual, we thought little of it at the time. As mid-afternoon was reached, several bridge officers, myself included, chatted up a storm as we entered the bridge of the Loyalty for the first time in several days, the ship taking on supplies as we prepared for an exercise. Whilst I had oft advocated the replenishment of the Navy’s forces, the reputation Luna’s former service had for ‘cushiness’ had also led to rather lax standards for decorum and discipline, much to my chagrin, and too oft these rare drills only went to show how far we had fallen since the days of the Celestial War.

As we took our positions on the bridge (aside from Captain Shady, who had gone to her cabin to deal with paperwork), Ensign Kusema studied the communications console with a small frown, holding one hoof to the gem on her left earring. A very rare Zebra citizen of Equestria, her ear gem was tied to her console, allowing her to hear incoming messages privately and relay information.

“Commander,” she addressed me in fluent unaccented Equish, a product of having lived in Equestria all her life, not indulging in the rhyming speak her fellow Zebras were oft said to. In truth, I admired her as I knew full well the casual disdain and occasional outright bigotry non-ponies tended to garner, or even those just not coming from proper birth or breeding. I am ashamed to say ‘twas one of the reasons it took me so long to accept Firefly, orphaned spitfire that she was, believing her beneath my daughter when the truth was… she was above all of us, needing only our daughter’s friendship to flourish. “There seems to have been a good deal of activity on the crystal communications all of a sudden. I’m having trouble making sense of it all, there’s so much ‘chatter’.”

I knew that ‘chatter’ was used to refer to an excess of activity on the military communications gems. The term was used almost exclusively by Navy communications officers. “Print out a readable version, Ensign,” I said patiently. “It will be less cluttered that way.”

Hitting a few buttons on her console, Kusema began doing so, the nearby telegraph beginning to churn out a length of parchment with dots and dashes on it. Our Neighponese helm officer, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sora chuckled. “For all the complaints the other services give us, I have to admit, the Navy has some very nice toys,” he remarked in his surprisingly deep voice.

“Aye,” Kusema said with a nod. “’Tis far more than I expected when I signed up for the service.”

“There is a reason for that,” I broke in, watching the parchment grow with a frown, a long series of dots and dashes ‘twould fall to me to translate before presenting it to Captain Shady. “Because the Navy is severely depleted when compared to the other branches of service, the Equestrian Intelligence Service’s Office of Magical Research uses us to test experimental equipment and magic before putting it to use for all branches. Our communications gems, our weapons, a good deal of this airship set the military standard after its successful testing.”

“Huh,” Sora mused. “I suppose that makes some sense. Test new things with a few expendable and useless ponies first before presenting it to the real soldiers, eh?” he chuckled and shook his head. “‘Tis nice to know where we stand in the general scheme of things.”

“At least we’re useful somehow…” I sighed as I took the long roll of parchment when ‘twas apparent there was no more forthcoming. Using my knowledge of Marse Code, I scanned over it, taking in the highlights… then paused, went back, and began reading more thoroughly. As I did, my alarm and trepidation grew. It must have been visible on my face as well, because the other bridge crew were getting nervous.

“Commander…?” Kusema asked, wary of the look on my face. “Your face just fell. Is all not well?”

I wasn’t sure if she meant that to rhyme, since unlike the stereotypes of her kind she normally didn’t, but such questions would have to wait. Rather than reply, I tucked the parchment under my good wing and bolted for the bridge door, heading at a brisk trot for the captain’s cabin.

Master and Commander

Before continuing, ‘tis worth noting that although I am a pegasus, I cannot fly. Or more precisely, I lost my ability to fly after an accident that severely wounded my right wing, leaving naught but a useless limb. ‘Tis a burden I have long since come to terms with, though I admit to this day I still miss the rush of the wind and the feel of the skies.

‘Twas times like this I missed it even more, just for the additional time it took me to get to a destination by walking and the minute it took to reach the cabin felt like a small eternity. Still, I took a moment to make myself presentable before knocking, smoothing out my deep blue uniform and straightening my rank insignia. “Come in,” came the voice from the other side.

I opened the door, nodding in deference to the pink unicorn inside. “Captain,” I said, stepping inside and then coming to attention. “Urgent message from Canterlot.”

Shady, despite her name, was rather brightly colored. A pink coat and yellow chartreuse mane framed her bright green eyes, which frowned at me. “Tailwind?” She looked at the very long parchment under my wing as I closed the door. “I wasn’t expecting any communications.”

“None of us expected this,” I muttered, as I put it on her desk and unfurled it fully. “You might want to start from the beginning.”

It took a few minutes before Shady was done reviewing it; when she was, she looked ashen-faced under her pink coat, sitting back heavily and visibly shaking. “By Celestia, how could this have happened?” she echoed my own thoughts. “After what the princess did to them, I thought the gryphons had been chased off for good!”

I gave her a gimlet eye at that. “Even faced with Celestia’s wrath, didst you truly believe the Empire would leave us alone?”

In answer, she could only give a resigned sigh. “No, methinks not. I was just being optimistic… for once.”

I sighed myself at that. Having gotten to know her better during my time serving with and under her, I knew that Shady had gained the reputation of being a ‘jinx’ prior to joining the Navy. Bad luck had followed in her wake until she joined the service… or perchance, I should say it forced her into the service, as the Equestrian Army rejected her and despite her obvious intelligence she couldn’t seem to hold onto any other job for more than a few months.

Her reputation had badly affected her self-esteem, and ‘twas something of a project of mine to keep her out of the depression she’d been in when I first met her. ‘Twas in part due to my efforts that she’d risen to Captain in the first place; though she was my junior in terms of age, she had a sort of spirit and drive to her that others in the Navy lacked. ‘Twas that spirit, even in the face of the constant misfortune she seemed to suffer, that I hoped would rekindle the Navy’s flame of glory.

“Shady, whatever you may be thinking, this is not your fault,” I said emphatically, stomping my hoof on her desk. “The gryphons are back, and they have brought not just war but an entire clan of dragons with them. Celestia is trapped and our border forces are being overrun. We need to act!”

“You say that as if it’s easy. But methinks not. Just what wouldst you propose we do, Tailwind?” she asked. “Ignoring the fact we have no orders, we are far from ready for combat. We lack nearly half our maximum allotment of weapons and personnel. At least a third of the ballistae don’t function, and our pegasus air wing is at best half-trained. We cannot stop a gryphon legion, let alone a dragon clan, on our own, not even with the Duty and the Vigil supporting us.” She referred to the other two ships in our group, a pair of ancient fast-attack gunboats refitted with modern equipment. However, as they possessed no pegasus squadrons of their own, they were primarily meant to launch hit-and-run raids or challenge larger airships by ramming them with their reinforced prow.

“No, we cannot,” I agreed. “But as Commodore Catamaran is absent, command of the group falls to you. And I propose we can aid our fellow armed forces in another way.” I pointed out one segment of the scroll in particular. “The Aerial Corps’ Outpost Epsilon has repulsed a Talon attack. More strikes are expected, and ‘tis certain they will consist of Knights and potentially Ravens. Epsilon will not survive, unless we get them out of there quickly.”

She gave me a gimlet eye of her own at that. “And the fact that your adopted daughter is in command of said outpost has nothing to do with this recommendation?” she asked dryly.

“Mayhap it does,” I admitted, “but there are other reasons. Outpost Gamma is under heavy siege at the moment, and more troops arrive to reinforce that siege by the hour; trying to rescue anypony there would be suicide. The other border outposts are likewise under heavy attack or have fallen. Epsilon, Omega and Gamma are the only ones left standing, but Epsilon is not under attack at the moment, is closest and has fewer numbers of gryphon troops to fight through. Methinks we can reach and evacuate them far easier than we could Gamma.”

Shady steepled her hooves and looked at me sternly. “Let me summarize what you are suggesting. You are asking me to, on my own authority, take half-ready ships crewed by combat green forces over twelve hundred miles into a war zone. You are asking me to risk their lives and that of the entire battle group without orders, potentially losing three badly needed airships in the process. And you are asking me to do this… for the sake of potentially rescuing one pony. Do not deny that your daughter is your primary motivation here, Tailwind,” she challenged me, to which I could only bow my head.

“I do not deny it, Captain. ‘Twould be the basest of lies to say otherwise. But it does not change the fact that Epsilon is in range whilst the other surviving border bases are not. It does not change the fact that they and they alone can be saved by us. That if we leave now, we might be able to get there in enough time for it to matter,” I countered. “I am asking you to do this not just for my daughter, but to rescue a battalion of badly needed soldiers. If we succeed, we not only save them but in the process strike a blow for not just the Royal Navy, but for all Equestria. And even if I do have a somewhat selfish motivation for suggesting this…” I raised my eyes to her, letting her see the pain and fear in them. “Wouldst you do any less, were it your daughter in danger?”

She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, as she blew out a long breath. She considered my words carefully for several interminable seconds, perchance even half a minute. And then her eyes opened.

A Captain’s Decision

Her horn glowed, as her closet opened and her uniform floated out of it, pulled to her. She slipped on the white coat, buttoning up all the way to the top. Next came the cap, which she set on her head firmly behind her horn. Then her naval saber, which she strapped to her side. Finally came her signature item, though twasn’t uniform standard; a pair of shaded spectacles that she slipped over her eyes, matching the ones that made up her cutie mark. I had never asked what her mark meant, as it had never seemed relevant. The spectacles were the one thing of her past life she’d fought tooth and hoof to bring with her into her new life in the Navy; a memento of happier times, she’d said, even if she’d never related the tale behind them.

Grabbing the message scrolls in her magic, she stepped over to the door and opened it. I followed her to the bridge, where the other officers quickly came to attention. “Captain on the Bridge!” they said in unison, surprised by her appearance; ‘twas no lie to say that seeing anypony in formal uniform on a Navy ship was a rare occurrence in this day and age.

Walking to her captain’s chair, Shady sat down, and tapped a blue crystal on it. “Bridge to Engineering,” she said. “Get our engines warmed up and propellers up to speed. We need to be ready to leave by dusk.”

“Dusk?! That’s just three hours away!” came the accented reply of our chief engineer, a Shetland stallion named Flash Fix. “We weren’t supposed to be ready for flight until tomorrow! Are ye daft, Captain?!” We all waited a moment, knowing what was coming. “But fer ye, Ah’ll have them ready in two,” he added cheekily.

“Good stallion,” Shady said with a small smile as she cut the connection. She turned next to our pegasus navigator. “Lieutenant Azimuth, plot us a course to Aerial Corps Outpost Epsilon on the Gryphon frontier, best possible speed for the entire group.”

Instead of immediately obeying, he blinked. “I’m sorry… Outpost Epsilon, ma’am?” he repeated. “But that’s…” his voice trailed off at the look Shady gave him.

“Must I repeat myself, Lieutenant?” She pinned him with a stare. “You have your orders.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” he replied, pulling out some charts with his wings to begin his calculations.

“Ensign Kusema,” Shady said next, “contact the Duty and the Vigil. Tell them to get prepared to leave by nightfall. Instruct them to load as many military supplies as possible and to ready as many of their weapons as they can.” She wrote out a quick note with her orders on it and signed her name to it, adding a magical seal to make it official.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kusema replied in some confusion, turning back to her own console.

“Thank you. And once you’re done with that, inform the crew that all leaves are cancelled effective immediately, and that all those currently on leave recalled. Send messages to all Stalliongrad communications offices to spread word that they are to report back at once, or they will be left behind,” she further instructed, the unusual orders only causing consternation among the bridge crew to grow further as she wrote out another missive and passed it to the communications station.

“Understood ma’am,” the Zebra mare replied warily as she accepted the second note.

“Very well. And one more thing, Ensign,” the Captain said.

“Ma’am?” Kusema asked uncertainly.

Shady sucked in a deep breath before letting it out. “Tell the Duty and Vigil… to beat to quarters.”

There was a sudden tension in the air, as all of the bridge crew looked at each other. “A-aye, ma’am,” Kusema said shakily, turning to the communications console and carrying out her orders.

I looked at Shady, and she nodded to me. Nodding back, I walked over to my own station, where I tapped several crystals in sequence with a hoof before firmly pressing a button down.

Beat to Quarters

Drums immediately sounded throughout the airship, pounding out a rhythm guaranteed to wake any sleeping pony. I could well imagine the bedlam that was erupting on the lower decks at the sound, as the crew struggled to understand what was going on. I could not blame them for their confusion; though we had been taught to recognize the rhythm, ‘twas not expected any of us would hear it outside of basic training or scheduled drills.

After all, the last time it had been sounded in war was during the Lunar Rebellion, when the Royal Navy had sided with Luna against Celestia… and had nearly been destroyed for it; ‘twas reduced to a mere ceremonial service in its aftermath, one the Princess only kept around out of respect for her fallen sister.

“Ma’am, the Duty and Vigil report they will be ready by the time requested,” Kusema reported. “But they do request an explanation as to why.”

“Very well,” Shady replied. “Tell them they’ll know shortly.”

“Course plotted, Captain,” Lieutenant Azimuth reported next. “We are simply waiting on the engines to be ready. Once they are, it should take us about ten hours to arrive at cruising speed.”

“Good,” repeated our unicorn Captain. “Though methinks I may modify our approach vector as we get closer...” she mused mostly to herself, leaving me wondering what she was thinking.

Kusema and Sora exchanged looks before the former spoke up. “Ma’am… if I may ask, what is going on?”

Shady flinched slightly at the question before sighing in some defeat. “Patch me through to the Duty and Vigil, as well as General Quarters,” she said. “I might as well tell everypony.”

Kusema nodded, tapping on her console. A slight chirping noise announced that the bridge was now broadcasting to all stations.

“Attention, all officers and crew of Royal Navy Battle Group Four,” Shady began. “This is Captain Shady speaking. I understand many of you are confused as to why I have sounded general quarters outside of scheduled drills and why all crew is being immediately recalled. Well, the reason is this: as of dawn this morning... Equestria is at war,” she stated simply, pausing to let the words sink in.

“The Gryphon Empire has decided that Our Princess’s terms for peace were not acceptable, and have allied with a dragon clan as a means to invade us. Even as we speak, Canterlot is besieged whilst an all-out attack on our frontier forces are underway, and our brethren in the Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps are being slain by their legions.

“We cannot help Canterlot for now, but there are other ways we can assist. According to the latest dispatch, almost all of the Army and Aerial Corps outposts on the Gryphon border have been overrun. As of the latest intelligence we have, naught but three for certain remain standing: Outpost Gamma, headquarters for the Corps’ 5th Division, Outpost Omega, far to the east of here... and Outpost Epsilon, the westernmost and closest. The reason for the hasty departure orders is that we will be making our way to the latter, to extract any forces that remain. ‘Tis certain that we will encounter the enemy along the way. And if so... we will do our duty and make all Equestria proud!”

Sensing the shock and doubt that greeted her words, she paused, then began again. “I have no intentions of lying to you; great danger lies ahead. Like you, I have never seen combat, nor did I expect to. Like so many of you, I joined the Navy because I had no other choice in life. I certainly never expected to make rank. And methinks none of us could have foreseen that this day would come; a day where we would truly have to take up arms. But that day has come. We are soldiers in service to Equestria. And we will answer our nation’s call.”

I noted she was very carefully not saying that we had no orders to go, for which I thanked her, as the knowledge that we were acting on our own accord might have caused even more consternation. “I know that many of you may doubt our chances. ‘Tis certain the other services look down on us; they think the Navy is ‘cushy’, and consider those who serve on our airships ‘soft’. And methinks there is a grain of truth to it. Compared to the other services, we are unpracticed, unhoned, and inexperienced when it comes to combat. There is no denying that.” She bowed her head briefly, before bringing it up again.

“But that does not mean we cannot fight! When we started serving together, we knew what we were getting into. And despite the Navy’s reputation, we have trained and drilled for this day. A captain could not ask for finer crews and ships, and I have absolute confidence in all of you that we will be up to the challenges ahead.

“Regardless of our reputation, we took an oath to serve Our Princess to the best of our ability. We took an oath to protect Equestria, to fight and die in Her service if need be! And I for one am not going to let some greedy dragons or overgrown chickenhawks have their way with us! We were once Luna’s service and Equestria’s sword! We were once the offensive arm of the Equestrian Military; our reach was long and our airships feared!” Her voice was getting more fervent as she spoke; even I began to feel my heart swell with pride.

“Methinks ‘tis high time the gryphons be reminded of that fact! We will show them that we will not go quietly into the night! That we will not surrender without a fight! We shall live on! We shall survive! Today, we fly for the field of battle! Today… the Royal Navy goes to war!”

As wracked with doubt as she could be, I was impressed at how well she could inspire as even through the various decks, I could hear the cheering of the crew. To be certain, there was some cheering on the bridge as well; Kusema and Sora both had determined grins on their faces, ones that matched my own, I was sure. “An excellent speech, ma’am,” I told her as she sat back down, and very much meant it.

“If we survive the coming day, I’ll let you give the next one,” she told me quietly. “In the meantime, you are to do your utmost to ensure as many of our ballistae and pegasus squadrons are ready for action. We should take our time in transit to hold a series of anti-boarding drills as well,” she instructed me.

“Aye, ma’am. I will see to it,” I told her, heading back below decks to check in with the Mare-at-Arms to make sure all our weapons lockers were fully stocked and easily accessible. I couldn’t fly thanks to my crippled wing, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t wield a wingblade on my working one, and I was also an excellent shot with a naval-issue crossbow.

“Captain!” came the voice of Flash Fix over the growing hum of our propulsion system, an ancient but still viable system of magic-spun propellers. “Engines are hot, and wind propellers turning! As soon as we’ve taken on sufficient supplies and recovered our crew, we’re ready to cast off and depart on your orders!”

“Acknowledged. Ensign Kusema, inform our groundside crew that if they’re not on board by 1700, they will be left behind,” I heard Captain Shady say as I departed the bridge, and at dusk, we did indeed cast off our mooring lines to a surprising sight—our ground crews cheering and waving their uniform flat hats in their hooves as they learned our intentions.

Even Shady smiled at that. “Mister Sora? Take us out!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” our unicorn helmspony replied, turning to the helm and spinning the wheel hard, causing the ship to bank to the right, heading out over the wide Canoe River that cut through the Maregolian prairie and soon passing over the fertile farms of Equestria’s breadbasket, the Unicorn Plains.

The cheering of the ground crew and our own was drowned out as our propellers roared. The Loyalty lifted into the air, the Duty and Vigil right behind her. We came about and gained speed and altitude as we sailed the skies northeastward toward Epsilon… and war.

I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast for I intend to go in harm’s way. —Captain John Paul Jones

Author's Notes:

Well, I wanted to get at least one major battle completed in the first week of the story before I shift away from it to work again on The Lawyer and The Unicorn. It's my general philosophy when writing a story that you need to give the reader down time between major scenes to reset mentally. I call it the ‘reading refractory period’ in my clopfics and in all honesty it holds here as well. So what's ahead? There is another battle to fight before we return focus to Epsilon, one that was hinted at in earlier chapters and in Rise of Firefly before that. Another important pony location was targeted for a long-range raid, and the hammer is about to fall there. But considering who lives there, ‘tis the gryphons who best beware, lest they awaken the demon who lies dormant within him...

A huge thank-you goes to Co-author Leo Archon for writing the very nice naval section, and to the usual prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, and Denim_Blue. Have to say, the latter was in fine form in his comments on the google doc...

Part 6 - A Demon Reborn

After the plunge into war that was the first few chapters, one might think a more sedate chapter would be called for. Unfortunately, such chapters will be few in these frantic early hours of the conflict. Thus, before we continue this story, a brief interlude is in order so we can remember not just the war we fought but the peace we eventually won; be reminded of just why so many fell and that their sacrifices were not in vain.

’Tis certain that writing these chapters can be an emotional and unhappy chore for all of us, far more so than the ones of the previous book, where the war had not yet started and combat was only occasional. Here, as my beloved sister was forced to relive Windshear’s sacrifice and the very traumatic experience of her first battle around it, I took weekend leave from the Equestrian Officer Academy to visit her in the town of Spur. ’Twas my intention to soothe her hurting heart by spending time with her and her family, joined by some very special friends...

Remembrance

When I arrived at the Canterlot docks at dawn to board my naval transport for Fort Spur, I found a procession of Royal Guardsponies and Gryphon Embassy soldiers there to see me off.

Or perchance I should say, seeing us all off. I am pleased and honored to say I was joined by my adopted son Gavian, now a father, artist and instructor at the Celestial Art Academy in Canterlot. Now considered one of the greatest artisans of either nation and an emissary between the races of both, he wished to come because, by a very curious and unlikely set of circumstances, he owed Windshear his life; a fact he learned upon meeting him for the first and only time not long before the war began.

I was expecting him. But I was not expecting Ambassador Kaval, who, now knowing the full story of the Fort Spur battle, formerly requested to join us, seeking to honor Windshear’s sacrifice for himself and his new nation. Upon arrival of our naval transport at the base airship dock some six hours later, we were greeted with an Honor Guard by First Lieutenant Flanking Line, the Fort Spur commander, who paid his respects to us even as we came to pay our respects to Windshear. In formal uniform, he escorted us to the memorial statue that marks the exact spot my mentor fell, sacrificing himself to slay the Talaeus raid leader and the tornado of fire that would have consumed all.

Taps were played whilst Wind Whistler left a custom set of windchimes that sounded out a rather mournful melody, Gavian unveiled a custom painting depicting the battle and the very moment of the Sergeant Major’s sacrifice, and I, the old silver Sergeant’s insignia from my formal attire—the very three stripes he initially pinned on my shoulders upon graduation from Royal Guard basic so many years ago. For his part, Ambassador Kaval left a very fine Talaeus blade, engraved with Windshear’s name and deeds. Gryphons do not give medals for battle feats or other military achievements as we do, but instead honor their soldiers with higher rank and more powerful weapons and armor. In this case, to receive such an exquisite blade as the one the Ambassador presented means that the Sergeant Major is now recognized by the Kingdom as one of the greatest warriors of all time.

The ceremony was quite moving, and having witnessed Windshear’s sacrifice so many years ago, Wind Whistler cried again to see it. In an exceptionally rare event, they even halted training so all trainers and recruits could attend, standing in formation at rigid attention as myself, Wind Whistler, Gavian and the Ambassador each gave a brief but heartfelt speech, the latter about what Windshear taught both sides about the meaning of honor and how the Empire had lost sight of what it was.

’Tis worth noting that Windshear’s grandson, named Stalwart Stand in honor of him, was in attendance amongst the recruits. As much as I may have wished to, I did not meet or address him—’tis tradition of the Armored Guard that no matter what your feats or who your family, you are treated no differently as a recruit for it, and thus, I could not speak to him or give him any special recognition. Indeed, Windshear himself was an Aerial Corps Sky Sergeant before he transferred to the Guard, but then lost his rank and had to go through the six-month basic again as a raw recruit before having an equivalent Guardspony rank returned to him at graduation.

Though unable to talk to him, I did observe him as I watched him drill later, and I do have to say that even under his drab grey pegasus recruit fur dye, I could see much of his grandsire in him. In truth, methinks I recognized him instantly as he had Windshear’s build and piercing eyes, and I was later told by his trainers that he also possessed the same love of princess and province my mentor held, to say nothing of a determination to live up to his legacy. ’Tis certain I look forward to seeing him again upon his graduation, and ’tis then I will finally formally introduce myself and visit the memorial again with him. Methinks he will have no end of questions for me about his grandsire, and I will do my best to answer them all.

Given a VIP tour of the base afterwards, we were also privileged to watch afternoon drills in which a dozen gryphons participated. As part of our effort to deepen ties between our nations and militaries, we have established a series of exchange programs in which gryphon soldiers undergo Royal Guard training whilst Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps troops take part in the Gryphon Kingdom’s ‘Crucible’; their version of basic shared between all their services. It has led to some strange sights and juxtapositions; ’twas a little odd, to say the least, to see gryphons wielding wingblades! But the terms of the exchange were that both sides train and learn to fight as the other does. And that means a continent away, select ponies are likewise being trained on crossbows and scimitars.

Of course, as Ambassador Kaval and I were present, our reputations preceded us and we could not escape requests to spar. In truth, it had been a while, so we acquiesced, donning armor and engaging in a duel. Though the Ambassador is fifteen years older than I and now in his early sixties, he keeps himself in fine fighting shape, and our latest battle was, if perchance not as epic as our clashes once were, still a ferocious affair. Methinks ’tis something I have picked up from gryphons in general and the Ambassador in particular to not hold back in even a sparring match, or ’tis taken as an insult; a statement of unworthiness to an opponent. For in the end, ’tis certain there are none more worthy than he.

Our duel lasted several minutes and we each ended up battered and bloodied for it, but in the end our mock battle ended as it seemed all our real ones did: in a draw with blades at each other’s throats, at which point we stopped and saluted each other to the raucous calls and cheers of all present. Methinks it left us reflecting again how many times we once tried to kill each other... and how many times we could not. ’Tis certain neither of us knew why during the course of the war it felt so important that the other live, but in time it became clear that ’twas to the great benefit of both sides that we did.

I thank you for such a... stimulating match, Captain, a far friendlier affair than the ones we once engaged in… to say nothing of more welcome for the fact we both seem to enjoy them immensely now, for both the duel itself and what seems to inevitably happen in its aftermath!

I did indeed offer the Sergeant Major my greatest respects and the Gryphon Kingdom’s highest military honor, and ’tis quite certain I was also pleased by the progress I saw in making the exchange program work, even if I did find it a little strange to be saluted by a gryphon in the pony manner! Though as an Ambassador I am no longer a soldier, I am still very much a warrior, and will remain so until the day I die.

But such days as this were unimaginable on the first day of the invasion, as we conducted operations not just on the border, but also launched several far-flung raids designed to cripple both Equestrian morale and ability to wage war from the start. Some operations, like the one on the Royal Navy Ursa base by the Celestial Sea went well, leaving the facility in ruin as we destroyed two airships and crippled a third. In others like the Fort Spur raid, we would inflict heavy damage and losses but ultimately fail to complete our objectives…

However, in the end, that target was more symbolic than substantive. For the latter, there was a third and far more major raid launched on one of Equestria’s most iconic cities. But that story, Captain, I will leave to your friends and comrades to tell.

Indeed, Ambassador. And ’tis there our story goes next. This tale, too, has its share of tragedy and triumph… though the hero of the day would deny his worthiness of the title, were he still with us.

As the Ambassador explained, Fort Spur was not the only location deep within our borders to be attacked on that first day of war. Cloudsdale, too, would suffer a raid, the aim being to cripple our storm cloud production by destroying its weather factories. On that note, they would be partially successful, as the factories were indeed ruined and knocked out of action for months. Thankfully, however, most of the workers were spared, thanks almost entirely to the efforts of one pony, whose name is legend no less than mine.

That raid is what this chapter will only begin to tell. For its enormous scope, it must be told in multiple chapters from three different perspectives; three ponies who were sought out—or came forward—to give their insights into what happened in Equestria’s largest pegasus population center. With one exception, these ponies had little to do with the war itself beyond this. But their views are essential, as they directly witnessed the deeds of a pony without whom not just Cloudsdale but all Equestria might have fallen.

The tale is theirs to tell, but I feel I must say this much: the Empire sought to cripple Equestria’s military by destroying our ability to control the weather or create storm clouds. Instead, they awoke a demon that had lain dormant for years, a living weapon who was an even more effective warrior than I…

And far, far more dangerous for it.

A truer statement I’ve never heard, Captain. I thank you for seeking me out for my part of this tale, however insignificant it may be.

To you who now read this, know that my name is Virga Veil, and though I was once a Sergeant in the Aerial Corps, I was forced into an early retirement due to circumstances beyond my control. Readers of the previous volume may recall the IS-2 incident, where a pacifistic earth pony village was slaughtered by the brutal Lucavi raider group; its disarmed Aerial Corps defenders likewise slain almost to the last. As one of those defenders along with my commanding officer and good friend Thunderbolt, I was either fortunate or unfortunate, depending on your point of view, to survive the massacre, though not without crippling injury.

Perchance it is for the best I have no recollection of that day, given the horrors that occurred there. My last clear memory before it was speaking with then-Lieutenant Thunderbolt about a joint herd we’d planned on forming; indeed, we’d proposed to the mares just the week prior and intended to tender our resignations from the Corps within days. Such an arrangement with multiple stallions in the same herd is rare, but not unheard of in Equestria. ’Tis more common among stallion siblings to share, but as Thunderbolt and I had been close friends for years on end, brothers in all but name starting from basic, we were both confident we could make it work. Then… nothing.

When I finally woke up in the Cloudsdale hospital, ’twas to find two years passed, my intended mares dead, my right wing gone, and Thunderbolt but a shell of his former self; the sole survivor of that day besides me. I myself was, understandably, quite disoriented. What had happened? I’ve since read the reports, learned about both the massacre and its aftermath as Equestria engaged in a retaliatory operation to crush the Lucavi raider group called Operation Phoenix Fire, launching a limited invasion of Imperial lands with nearly eight thousand troops to destroy the Lucavi forces and their bases.

The operation was a success thanks in large measure to Thunderbolt, but all the same, ’twas almost fiction to me. How could this have happened? And why could I not remember any of it? The healers told me that the shock of the physical and emotional trauma I suffered that day resulted in significant damage to my mind, including my memory. Admittedly, this has merit, as I have trouble remembering details now and again… which is why I’m writing this with the aid of a unicorn healer with a memory recall spell.

After waking up from my two-year coma, I spent another year learning how to walk again under my own power. My muscles had atrophied severely from disuse, and it took time before I could leave the hospital… to say nothing of coming to terms with all that happened and the knowledge that I would never fly again; a crippling blow to a pegasus. Between that and the loss of my wing, I could no longer serve in the Corps, and so was dismissed with honors… including receiving both the Celestial Seal of Sacrifice, automatically granted to all dead and wounded soldiers, and the Dove of Fidelity, an unhappy but purely optional award to the sole survivors of attacks and ambushes.

Whilst I am technically not the only survivor of IS-2, I asked for it anyway, and ’twas granted. I now spend my days in Cloudsdale’s weather factory helping make rain clouds, as ’tis my special talent and something I do not require working wings or fully working memory to do.

’Tis in that factory that I pick up the tale Captain Firefly wishes me to tell. I only pray I can do it the justice it deserves.

Awakening

Cloudsdale
Weather Factory Raincloud Facility #5
September 1st, 1139 AC
1220 hours

Cliché though it is to say at this point in the story, September first began as but a normal day in Cloudsdale with nary an indication anything was amiss.

As was typical for that time of year, the city was drifting southeast towards the Appleachian Mountains, nearing its closest approach to the Pony/Gryphon border. But we were less worried about that then ramping up raincloud production for the all-important harvest season. We spent July and August drawing water from the Lunar Sea for that purpose, using it not just to quench the thirst of our eastern farms in advance of Autumn but to also deliver some rainfall to the thestral lands further south.

Every September, we would fill Lake Luna for them as part of their autonomy agreement with the Princess. In exchange for water and being otherwise left alone after their failed rebellion of three hundred years past, they paid yearly taxes and also kept watch over the wild lands of the Everfree; a job they were well-suited for. But such thoughts of the bat-ponies were lost as I rose, bathed, and dressed for work… and then met Thunderbolt for breakfast, as was our longtime custom.

I was grateful, as always, for his presence. He was a true friend to me, perchance the only one I had left after my ordeal. Ever since my awakening, Thunderbolt had taken pains to visit me regularly, though I did not understand why he collapsed and cried over my bed the first time he saw me awake. He visited me frequently after that, helping me recover, had even helped me find a home near the factory so I could walk there. At times we would talk about the past, about the mares we’d intended to herd together… though for the most part we studiously avoided talking about the events that had led to that plan falling through.

A powerful grey-furred and gold-maned pegasus who hadn’t seemed to have physically aged much in the twelve years since that ordeal, Thunderbolt had become a semi-regular fixture at the factory when he wasn’t teaching foals to fly at the Remedial Flight School, which was between sessions at that point. Methinks he did it because he preferred company to solitude, especially that of his sole surviving friend, not wishing to be alone with his oft dark and brooding thoughts. He wasn’t formally employed there and sought no pay for his services, but he aided me nonetheless with tasks I was not able to complete on my own, as he still had the power of flight. Whilst I would make the clouds, he would gather the vapors I needed, as well as send the finished products to the packaging line. As we worked, we talked as well, chatting about old times as always.

Today, though, seemed somehow different. “You seem on edge, Thunderbolt,” I noted as I passed him another finished rain cloud. ’Twas no idle observation; my friend had been unusually tense and distracted all morning, barely saying a word but sinking into a brooding expression for minutes at a time.

He started at my voice, looking up like he’d just remembered I was there. “My apologies, old friend,” he quickly told me, hefting the latest cloud up to the packaging window. “’Tis just… I have had this foreboding feeling all morning. I cannot help but feel something bad is happening.”

“Oh?” My own hackles were raised by his declaration. Were I a different pony, I might have thought him perchance paranoid, or at least overly cautious. However, I’d known Thunderbolt for years, even fought at his side against gryphon raiders twice before the IS-2 incident. His instincts for trouble were superb as he’d had similar premonitions before each such instance, including a particularly strong sense of them before IS-2. Knowing such, I frowned, wondering what he was picking up on this time. “Do you believe there’s trouble on the border?” was the only immediate thought that came to mind. “Twould be hard to believe after Celestia’s ultimatum.”

He considered the question, then shook his head. “I know not what to believe,” he replied after a moment, his eyes and ears now swiveling in every direction as if scanning for threats, sensing danger closing in. “I just feel that something is terribly wrong. That great peril approaches as we speak.”

For him to say such a thing was enough for my own sense of foreboding and long-dormant combat instincts to kick in, but one of the nearby workers who had overheard us, a mare barely old enough to be called such, snorted. “Please, Thunderbolt. You wouldst do well not to believe in premonitions. We’re six hundred miles from the border, and even were we closer, the Princess made clear she’d deal with the gryphons quite harshly if they tried anything,” she pointed out with a roll of her eyes.

“’Tis true...” Thunderbolt granted, and even I couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Word of the infamous ultimatum the Princess gave the Empire following a series of border raids had filtered down through word-of-muzzle by this point; we’d heard the full story from friends we both still had in the Aerial Corps, one of whom had taken direct part in the parley it was delivered during. He had told us the tale with no little satisfaction over a round of cider, leaving us both wistfully wishing we’d been there to see it ourselves. “And yet...”

“And yet, nothing. For even if they did have designs on us, what could they do?” she countered, completely unconcerned. “Think about it. We are well back from the border, well-defended by militia, and methinks the gryphons would not dare launch so brazen a raid so deep into Equestria, especially under threat of annihilation as the Princess gave them. So what possible reason is there to worry?” the mare asked dismissively, turning back to her work.

She received her answer scarcely a second later when a crossbow bolt went right through her neck, severing her spine and slaying her instantly. Seconds later, alarms and a never-heard citywide call-to-arms sounded through the factory as windows and doors were smashed inward, multiple feathered and taloned forms flying through. Despite not having seen them for years, I recognized them immediately as gryphons. Worse, I realized from the grey fur and feather dye and light leather armor they wore that these were not raiders or even Talons, but a highly trained team of Ravens, deadly warriors of shadow who were in the employ of the Empire’s feared intelligence service, the Office of Owls.

Several ponies screamed and bolted for the exits, only to be cut down by their expert aim with their crossbows or the occasional thrown blade. They moved with brutal efficiency and within seconds had secured our facility and slain all within sight. At the squawked order of their leader, some searched for hiding ponies; others began embedding a series of crystal bombs through the facility, intended to destroy it outright, and ’twas then I realized what was happening for them to be attacking our weather factory—invasion; they were trying to destroy our storm cloud production in order to win a war with us, which meant not just obliterating the facility but slaying the workers that could rebuild it after.

Knowing that fleeing would be futile, Thunderbolt and I hid in a side room with several other workers, shepherding them in quickly though we know full well ’twould only provide temporary respite. “Methinks I hate it when you’re right,” I muttered whilst the other workers cowered and sobbed, praying they would not be found and knowing we had no means to defend ourselves. Weather factory workers were not soldiers and the factory itself kept no weapons at hoof...

At least, none in the traditional sense. “As do I, in this instance,” Thunderbolt growled, a gleam growing in his eyes as he moved to guard the door with me—once a soldier, always a soldier. “That they would strike this deep into Equestria…” Methinks he understood the implications as well as I.

“Thunderbolt, we need a plan,” I said, casting about for a means to barricade the door and wishing the factory kept weapons lockers as Naval airships did, as I heard the Ravens searching for more ponies to kill, getting closer all the time. “We need a plan, and weapons,” I amended my statement in a low voice, knowing full well we wouldn’t stay hidden forever. In fact, given the Ravens were starting a systematic search of the facility, we had minutes before they found us at most, at which point our life expectancy might be measured in moments.

’Twas then that I got a good look at Thunderbolt’s face; ’twas all I could do not to recoil from what I saw. Suddenly, the reports I’d read of the ‘demon’ he’d become in the wake of disaster sounded far more plausible; rage and bloodlust growing within his gaze. ’Twas said he’d been unkillable and unstoppable whilst hunting down the Lucavi in the Phoenix Fire operation; and though I’d known him to be a superb soldier, the reports of his skill and sheer savagery were almost impossible to believe.

“The plan is that I’m going to slay every single one of those chickenhawks who dared enter this city and spilled pony blood,” he replied in an equally low voice; from the lack of any sort of warmth in it, I knew he was not only deadly serious, but ’twas fully within his power to carry out his threat. “I will deal with them. Stay hidden and do not interfere…” he warned us all, and then, without hesitation, opened the door and stepped out of the room, exposing himself fully, inviting attack.

“Thunderbolt!” I whispered to him frantically, wondering if he was insane or had a death wish—the latter, I sometimes felt, was all too plausible with him given how he sometimes spoke. “Get BACK!”

But far from listening, he stepped to the center of the room in full view, calling to our assailants in their own tongue: [“GRYPHONS! Listen and take heed! I am former Lieutenant Thunderbolt of the Equestrian Aerial Corps!”] he told them as they stared at him incredulously. [“If you know who I am, then you know what I can DO! So I offer you one chance at survival! Leave Cloudsdale immediately, and I will NOT slay every last one of you!”]. I knew the Gryphon language of Aeric as well, having learned it alongside him when he was studying to enter the Equestrian Officer Academy.

Far from intimidated, the Ravens erupted in laughter at him in a rare loss of discipline. [“Lieutenant Thunderbolt, you say? Then you are the so-called ‘Lightning Demon’ who slaughtered the Lucavi? Methinks I am unimpressed, pegasus!”] their leader, a sky gryphon eagless who wore the subdued rank insignia of a Second Spear, spoke with a sneer. [“Perchance you are under some strange delusion as to your odds, so allow me to enlighten you: you are unarmed, woefully outnumbered, and face elite assassins, not wretched raiders this time! I would humor you with a duel so you might see how outmatched you are, but time is short. We are on a schedule, so slay this fool and check the room behind him for others, Akil!”] she ordered one of her subordinates, pointedly turning away from him in an expression of her disdain.

[“By your command, leader!”] ‘Akil’ obeyed instantly, swooping down on him. She then all but sauntered up to him, speaking in smug tones. [“So you speak our language, Equestrian? Then do you know the meaning of our expression ‘spearing fish in a barrel?’”] she asked as she went nose to nose with him, frowning as she saw not a single flinch or flicker of fear in him at her approach. [“No? Then allow me to DEMONSTRATE!”] She lunged at his chest with a long knife in a rapid and well-practiced thrust that would have stabbed through the heart of anybody else, killing them instantly…

And then looked down in shock and horror to realize the knife was embedded in her own chest, her attack turned back on her by a well-timed hoof strike to her wrist that had knocked the blade from her grasp, turned it over in mid-air, and landed it in the same hoof, which then sunk it into her body, all in a single smooth motion! All of it had taken less than a second; as it had been but a blur when it happened, I had to ask my unicorn healer helping me write this to play the memory back repeatedly to understand exactly how he had done it and how much he had accomplished in that one instant!

[“As it happens, I DO know…”] Thunderbolt told her, his voice ice-cold as he twisted the blade into her heart; her beak agape and eyes betraying sheer terror as she realized at that moment she was slain, unable to draw breath or even scream. [“Now let me show you just how MUCH I know!”] With that, he ripped the knife from her body in a spray of blood and then threw it at the Raven leader that had so foalishly turned her back on him, the spinning blade finding the base of her wing, severing the nerves and sending her crashing to the ground.

Shouts of alarm and anger erupted all around us as the remaining Ravens in the room turned their full attention on him. But by that time he had drawn the slain Raven’s scimitar from its back scabbard and was now wielding it in his mouth as he took flight, exchanging blows with a second surprised Raven in the air, who methinks lasted scarcely longer than the first, managing just two parries of his purloined sword before he took her head off with it. He then used her headless body as a shield to charge the others, grabbing two more blades from her belt and killing a third, then a fourth Raven with them—they did not wear more than light leather armor, emphasizing speed over strength, and here it cost them when faced with an opponent even swifter and more skilled than they.

Scrambling backwards and realizing their blades were useless against an opponent of such awful ability, the last two unwounded gryphon assassins went for their gems and crossbows, but Thunderbolt countered by generating a miniature twister with his wings and flinging it at them, rendering them blind from the sudden gale and unable to aim, tossing in a pouch full of gems from the decapitated eagless inside the funnel after triggering one. ’Twas a shock gem, and it set the rest off in a cacophony of flashes, sparks, and outright explosions, shredding their bodies almost instantly.

’Twas amazing, if not outright terrifying to watch, how savagely and efficiently he slew them all, taking down an entire Raven team in bare seconds—methinks not even the best of the Black Lances could manage such a feat! He saved the leader for last, who was wounded by the blade in her back but had found a hostage, standing shakily on her hind legs as she held her sword to the throat of a sobbing young mare.

[“Stay back!”] she ordered him in a near-panic, her eyes betraying no little fear as he continued to stalk nearer, his head lowered like a predator, a demon of vengeance approaching her with the promise of certain death in his gaze. [“I’ll kill her!”] she then threatened in a shrill voice. [“I swear it!”]

[“I care not,”] he informed her in icy tones, continuing his deliberate approach, and a chill went through me as I realized that at the moment, he very much meant it. [“Just ask the Lucavi.”]

She must have seen the truth of it in his eyes, for at that moment, she flung her hostage at him and attempted to escape out an open door under the cover of a smoke gem, but Thunderbolt simply batted the mare aside none too gently, dispersed the smoke with a wave of his wing, then took flight after her, dodging first her crossbow and then her thrown blades once, twice, and finally a third time before he caught her and simply snapped her neck with a sickening crack, letting her broken body fall to the factory floor.

“Thunderbolt!” I called to him, stepping out but afraid to approach him for all I had just witnessed. “Are you…?”

He stared at the final corpse he’d created for a moment before replying. “I am undone…” he told me quietly. “For twelve years I have fought it. For twelve years I have suppressed it. For twelve years I have feared what I could become again. But now…?”

He raised his eyes to me, showing me the pain and rage within them; yet something else was there as well. An emotion that terrified me more than any other I saw from him that day…

Pure, unadulterated joy.

“Now the demon is unleashed. Now with war upon us, I am free to kill again. And methinks I could not be happier for it!”

Before continuing my part in this tale, I must take a deep mental breath and explain a few things; not the least of which is how all of this was even possible for my old friend.

To begin with, it must be understood that Thunderbolt had never been a Black Lance, an Armored Guardspony or any other elite soldier. Nor had he undergone any EIS or PSD programs that might have explained his all but otherworldly combat skills. In the end, he was just a standard Corps soldier with no special training, though to be sure, soldiers and especially stallions don’t become officers without being very skilled fighters.

Though certainly a potent warrior before, ’twas nothing compared to what he had become. For what he did possess aside from an affinity for lightning were incredible combat instincts powered by nearly uncontrollable anger and bloodlust; an insatiable addiction to violence that left him with an overwhelming desire to fight and kill. He once told me that when he saw our mares slain before him, several dying to save him, something snapped inside him. ’Twas as if, he said, an internal barrier had broken and all of the sudden he had no combat inhibitions left, nothing left to defend and no reasons to hold back…

No reasons not to kill. “Methinks my mind, my body, and my very soul remade themselves at that moment,” he explained to me during one of the very few times we discussed what had happened. “Every instinct, every thought, every motion, and indeed, everything I did from that point forward was directed towards one thing—avenging the massacre I endured and slaying all responsible. And to that end… I gave up all honor and compassion to become not a soldier, but a merciless killer who slew all before him, not caring in the least who he hurt and worse… not discriminating between friend or foe, soldier or civilian.”

He told me that after several mugs of ale one night, and ’twas proven here to be no idle boast—for as at least one after-action report said following Phoenix Fire, ’twas as if he was born to kill, as he did so quite easily and fluidly; even elite warriors of shadow like the Ravens could not stand against him. “I cannot explain it except to say that I know how to slay every opponent I face instantly and instinctively; I see their moves even before they enter their own minds. And none can stand against me for it. Every sense, every desire and every thought process I now have is directed towards combat and killing, and ’tis why I dare not go back to it, ever,” he told me, his ale mug shaking in his hoof. “’Tis a great and terrible gift with an equally horrific price. For in gaining it, I also acquired an unquenchable addiction to battle and bloodletting, and thus, should I ever return to it… I fear I will be lost to the demon within me forever.”

As much as we needed that demon then, I could only pray he was wrong and my friend would come back to me after. But before then, there was a city to save and a thousand gryphon soldiers to deal with were we to survive this first day of war.

Though I have more of this tale to tell, you will forgive me, Captain, if I prefer to pass the pen for now. Methinks you will understand if I simply need to be alone with my thoughts and memories for a bit.

Methinks I do indeed understand, and will do so. I thank you for agreeing to write this, old friend of an old friend, and I can only marvel at the events you describe. No matter how many times I saw his capabilities in combat, ’twas certain I was endlessly amazed—and oft appalled—by them. Let none doubt that in terms of sheer killing ability, he was the best—and in some ominous and terrifying ways, the worst—of us, his skill in battle even exceeding my own. His struggle was constant to keep his soul intact and not be completely consumed by his demons, especially as we lost ground later, but thankfully, in the end, he was able to conquer them… though ’tis certain it came at wrenching cost to us all.

But that story lies in the future. The next chapter will continue the story of the Great Battle of Cloudsdale, and Thunderbolt’s role in it. But as Sergeant Virga does not, for now, wish to write further given all he witnessed that day, two other ponies will take up the quill to continue the tale.

If I could ask but one thing of all readers at this point, ’twould be to reflect upon what war does to those who take part in it; how it twists and traumatizes them, sometimes turning them into unrecognizable shadows of their former selves. None are immune to this, myself included, and despite my own love of battle, ’tis certain I bear my own scars from it, both physical and emotional to this day.

The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. —G.K. Chesterton.

Author's Notes:

If there is any theme to my overall writing, whether clopfic or war epic, it’s balance. Between action and downtime, good times and bad, tragedy and triumph. I’m not interested in wall-to-wall horror; that’s why I sought to balance, or at least cushion Thunderbolt’s first appearance by giving everyone a glimpse of what ponies like he and Firefly eventually won despite how bad it looked early. Nevertheless, what happened to Thunderbolt is not in the least bit pretty, nor is what he willingly became in the aftermath.

However, there is an important difference between then and now, which may change everything for him, eventually. He snapped because he lost everything he had; everypony he loved was slain before him. Twelve years, on, however... that’s no longer the case; he does have those he’s close to and cares about again from Virga to the young colts and fillies he trains at the Remedial Flyers’ school. How will they affect him and how might he be different now for it? Is it even possible for one such as him to find redemption...?

Food for thought. In the meantime, thanks as always to my loyal prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, Silent Woodfire, and Denim_Blue, and to co-author Leo Archon for contributing a large chunk of the Thunderbolt section.

Part 7 - The Will to Fight

When Princess Celestia first asked me to write this account of my life and the war to follow, ‘twas only with greatest reluctance I agreed to.

In truth, I dreaded the memories and awakened emotions doing so was likely to generate within me; all the anger and fear, sorrow and rage, defeat and despair I felt far too often during those years of war. And yet, ‘twould seem I had forgotten that there were other, equally powerful emotions at play as well. Happiness and joy. Passion and pride. Triumph and glory. The sheer rush of battle and victory…

Indeed, I had in some ways forgotten that through all the death and destruction; through all the battles I fought, with not my fate but that of my very nation resting on a wingblade’s edge, ‘twas only during those battles that I felt the most alive and the deepest of bonds were built.

War creates hate, but it also forges equally powerful friendships; creates comrades and lovers surprisingly readily, drawing both individuals and societies and even entire nations closer together. For as much of the world as it eventually involved, ‘twas a war to end all wars some said we fought, yet when the bloodshed ended, the alliances and friendships we forged remained. I would never say I was glad the war came, but I am glad for most of its outcomes, which advanced the cause of harmony between races throughout the world.

But such is obvious only in the hindsight the decades since can provide. For far worse outcomes were not just possible, but indeed seemed all too likely throughout the course of the conflict…

And on the very first day of the war, one of them was the destruction of the Cloudsdale Weather Factory and the death of all who worked there. Cloudsdale is vast and the factory itself quite sprawling, employing nearly a thousand workers, the city’s iconic industry and arguably the most essential one for Equestria’s existence. ‘Tis little wonder then, that the gryphons targeted it immediately, sending nearly two millennia of soldiers to see to its destruction.

You have seen the start of the attack from Thunderbolt’s friend. Now I invite you to witness it from another point of view, and reflect on the desperate actions of those who were not soldiers as they struggled to survive the unthinkable...

That those who lived were not those who waited for rescue but acted to save themselves.

Thank you, Captain. Hello, followers of this tale. I am Morning Glory, younger sister of Fell Flight, her junior by six years. We share the same sire, but not the same mother, and perchance that is why I had not her fighting blood or nocturnal nature, nor any particular inclination to eat meat. I was then and once again am now a weather worker, as had all of members of our family been before Fell Flight decided to be the first soldier of our line. But she was assuredly not the last, as I would follow in her wingbeats for the events to be described, answering Equestria’s call to arms... though in truth, with the weather factory destroyed and many near and dear to me dead, there was little else I could do in the aftermath of that awful first day of war.

The story I will now relate is a far more common one for the survivors that day; a story of how, with no soldiers to protect us at first, we survived the surprise attack and eventually fought back not with spears or swords, but using that which we knew best and had ready access to…

The weather.

‘Twas a day I will never forget, but one that began as Thunderbolt’s friend previously described—completely calm with no hint of danger on the horizon; a late summer day the same as any other. I awoke at sunrise to my mother and the other mares of my father’s herd making us all breakfast; we ate and dressed and otherwise got ready for the day. Once my sire had seen my youngest sister Heat Wave off to school, we then flew out to the factory, though we soon parted with a hug to go to our separate jobs. Though my parents and indeed, most of my parents’ herd worked in the winter weather department, creating and stockpiling icy winds and snow clouds, I worked in the Rainbow Factory, where we created and maintained the city’s iconic rainbow falls and even packaged them for export to other places like Canterlot.

‘Twas work I enjoyed, though I still hoped for a transfer one day to the Storm Department, where specially screened and trained workers generated military-grade lightning clouds for the Equestrian Aerial Corps and Cloudsdale Militia. ‘Twas not only higher-paying and more prestigious work, but in an indirect way, I thought I would be helping my older sister, who I admired greatly. Her many martial feats meant her name was now well-known throughout Cloudsdale and great favor fell upon our family for it…

Rather ironic given how resoundingly its citizens once rejected her for her thestral heritage and how our entire herd suffered for it.

But even then, that was long in the past, and I spared it no thought that cool and sunny morning. The first half of the workday passed normally, at least until our lunch shift neared. Weather factory workers ate in four half-hour shifts starting at 11am and ending at 1pm, though they rotated the shifts amongst the various departments from month to month. For September, the Rainbow Factory was given the latest time slot at 12:30, so ‘twas at 12:15 that we were just starting to pause our operations. ‘Twas said that cafeteria was serving Cloud Creole that day, a Neigh Orleans specialty and worker favorite, and methinks our biggest fear to that point was that they would be little left for us in the last shift.

Unfortunately, we soon learned that lunch was the least of our worries as citywide alarms and a never-before-heard call to arms sounded just before many hundreds of gryphon soldiers descended on the city and factory. We had no warning before that, and we knew not what to do anyway; in fact, methinks we did not understand what was happening and how dire our straits truly were until the Ravens appeared and began cutting us down.

The difference was, like far too many others, we had no soldier of Thunderbolt’s stature to protect us; all we could do was lock ourselves in our workplaces or smaller side rooms and pray for rescue as alarms continued to shriek throughout the factory and city. What we didn’t know was that the Knights had already besieged both the small Corps garrison that adjoined the factory and the main militia base on the other end of Cloudsdale that was supposed to be the city’s primary defense, standing watch as the Ravens began their deadly work throughout the sprawling weather factory, paying particular attention, as it turned out, to the storm cloud plants, as they were military facilities defended by soldiers. But the other buildings were not neglected; ‘twas clearly their intention to destroy the entirety of the complex and with it Equestria’s ability to control the weather, depriving us of not just our storm cloud supply but even our ability to so much as water our crops.

Given that our purpose was more ornamental than functional, the Rainbow Factory was understandably not a primary target of the gryphons, so they did not reach us right away. That meant we had some chance to take cover, quickly barricading ourselves inside the sealed and windowless rainbow mixing room once we heard the alarms and realized what was happening, shoving tables and other furniture up against the doorways. Though pegasi were historically a warrior race and Equestria’s air force dating back to the days of antiquity we had no training, no weapons... and ‘twould seem, no hope.

Into the Fire

‘Tis no secret that Pegasi have a long and proud martial past, dating back to the days of Commander Hurricane and the Royal Legion. Much like the gryphons, pride in our history and warrior heritage are drummed into us from birth, and not without reason given the many battles and wars we have fought over the past several millennia, to say nothing of the warrior-heroes they produced.

‘Tis worth noting we had our own imperial phase in times of antiquity, forging an empire called “The Enclave” that lasted several centuries, and even following the tribal unification that gave birth to Equestria, ‘tis our race who have oft bore the the bulk of the fighting—and suffered the brunt of casualties—in Equestria’s wars. It is thus said by some that all pegasi are of warrior stock, fully capable of fighting, and that any attempt to conquer Cloudsdale in face of its populace would end in disaster for an attacker.

Try telling that to the thousand or more gryphons that descended on the Cloudsdale weather factory on the first day of the war. The lie of that belief was proven when all we could initially do was hide and flee, praying not to be found as nearly two hundred grey-dyed Ravens came calling, hunting us down without hesitation or mercy. We were workers, not warriors; we never expected we would come to work that day only to find ourselves in a fight for our very lives. We had no weapons or martial training, and up against feared foes like the Knights or Ravens we had no chance, able only to cower and conceal ourselves wherever we could.

So we did. Though we in the Rainbow Factory were initially ignored, they did indeed finally come calling for us within just a few minutes; we heard their harsh Aeric speech outside and talon clacks on the floor followed by the scraping sounds of them placing crystal charges on the walls and doors. They clearly intended to breach the room and once they did… whatever improvised defense we had would not avail us against trained warriors of such terrible skill; ‘twas certain we were as good as dead.

There were about forty of us there, most cowering but the bravest among us brandishing whatever blunt items they could find, ranging from metal pipe pieces to mops from a janitor’s closet. A few suggested trying to hold them back with wind from our wings, but most of us could barely generate a breeze. Nor were there any clouds we could fire lighting from, and truth be told, unless you were practiced in doing so, triggering a cloud to release its bolts could be as much a danger to you as your target.

Our options were few, and our time was short. “They’re coming through!” one of my coworkers shrieked as we heard the first charges go off as they tried to break the door down with explosive gems but failed, finding it surprisingly difficult to get through—a necessary precaution not against attack, but against an accident, as I will explain shortly—then trying again, this time targeting the hinges.

We had perchance a minute remaining, and another frantic glance around the room showed that there was little we could use to defend ourselves; all we had at our immediate disposal were the rainbow mixing vats and our safety gear for working with them…

... and ‘twas then an idea occurred to me.

Before we continue, an explanation is in order for those ponies who are not pegasi or are otherwise simply unfamiliar with how weather control works.

To begin with, it must be understood that the Cloudsdale Weather Factory makes far more than rain, snow, or storm clouds. We can create and store in isolation any aspect of weather including wind, cold or warm fronts, lightning... and of course, rainbows.

‘Twas in the last, surprisingly, that lay our potential salvation, and I quickly told my coworkers an idea for how we could use them. Rainbows are beautiful, and Cloudsdale’s signature rainbow falls are a popular tourist attraction for visiting unicorns and earth ponies, who are able to walk among us once they have taken a cloudwalking potion or had the spell it contains cast on them. But rainbow creation is not simple or straightforward, requiring special care—the magical components that make them up are somewhat volatile and requires a degree of eye and breathing protection to be around, as the fumes are in fact quite caustic.

Concentrated rainbow essence, in fact, is oft used as a pegasus food spice and has just recently begun to be marketed as a rather potent hot sauce to earth ponies and unicorns—one that you’re only supposed to use a few drops of at a time in any given food recipe. Indeed, ‘tis certain I’ll never forget the one time in her mid-teens that Fell Flight accepted a dare from several colts to drink a small bottle of it and ended up in agony for hours afterwards…

Thank you for reminding me of that, my dear Glory, as well as the severe digestive discomfort and loss of taste I suffered for days afterwards! ‘Twas my own fault, though. As you well know, I simply couldn’t resist a dare or challenge back then. I was a firecracker, as the minotaurs say, full of fight and possessing a constant need to prove myself, even over foalish bets like that.

—Fell Flight

Methinks I would say no less now, my sister! But in truth, I always admired you for your ability to pursue your dreams and not let anything stand in their way. You knew all along you were meant for more than weather work, and you proved it by becoming one of the greatest ponies who ever lived, both in war and in the peace that followed. ‘Tis certain our parents would be very proud of you for all you have accomplished and all you overcame. I do wish you would come home to Cloudsdale more often, though...

I do owe you more frequent visits, but Cloudsdale is no longer my home, dear Glory. You wouldst understand that my memories of that place are generally unpleasant ones given the bullying and bigotry I endured, to say nothing of the outright disfavor my thestral eyes brought us all during my upbringing. I greatly prefer to remain with my bat-pony brethren and herd in the Canterlot Conclave as much as possible, helping them to assimilate back into Equestrian society. I would also point out you owe me a visit there yourself! My foals wish to see their ‘Auntie Glory’ again, though methinks that is more due to the toys and Cloudsdale cakes you bring them. You spoil them, you know!

—Fell Flight

Auntie’s prerogative, my dear sister. Auntie’s prerogative. As they lack grandparents, I feel that the duty to spoil them rotten falls to me. And I know you worry about their reception should you bring them to Cloudsdale, given how badly your own mixed pegasus and thestral heritage got you bullied as a foal, but as we now have gryphons and even an adolescent dragon or two living amongst us, I believe you might be pleasantly surprised.

It took but two minutes to throw our desperate plan into motion... which was quite fortunate, because two minutes was all we had.

Emptying the gear lockers, the forty of us who had sheltered there donned our protective masks and goggles as we smashed the safeties and deliberately threw open all the valves on the mixing tanks, causing additional alarms to go off as they began to release their liquids and multi-colored vapors, soon saturating the air around us and causing some coughing from a few who had not obtained a proper mask seal in their panic. Thus, when the Ravens finally breached the room on their third try—two teams of seven grey-dyed gryphons came charging in through a freshly-made hole in the ceiling as well as the entry door—they were immediately met with a surge of brightly-colored smoke we helped along with wind from our wings, forcing it into their eyes and lungs.

A single breath and the ones who initially entered were incapacitated, clawing at their eyes and staggering back, unable to see or strike. Most of their crossbow shots went wild as a few even vomited, though a scream told me at least one of my coworkers was hit. Recognizing the danger, they tried to withdraw but couldn’t see well enough to do so, a few swinging blindly with their swords to fend us off whilst the ones at the rear slipped back out the door to rinse out their eyes from a canteen and don their flight goggles. They then poured water on their scarves and wrapped them around their beaks, intent on completing their mission and visibly livid at the tactics we had just used against them; I didn’t need to know their language to understand they were swearing bloody vengeance upon us.

We’d bought ourselves time and a momentary advantage, but ‘twas certain if we did not make use of it immediately, it was going to disappear. My coworkers still stood frozen, but recognizing our lives now depended on whether we could seize the chance before us, I asked myself:

What would Fell Flight do?

Will to Fight

With a silent prayer to Celestia, as well as an apology to my sister and herd were my next actions to get me killed—and what of our parents and other herdmates, working at different places throughout the factory? Were they safe?—I took flight and shot forward with another only half-formed plan, fearful that if I thought too much about it, I would lose my nerve. With thoughts of my sister steeling my resolve, I tackled the nearest Raven eagless in midair to her startled squawk, slamming her to the ground as I went for the sheathed knife I could just see on her belt. But she sensed my intention and pecked hard at me, one set of talons wrapping around my forehoof and digging in painfully and twisting it as she tried to throw me off her despite her inability to see or breathe, her other paw going for my throat.

And given just a few seconds, her training in unarmed combat meant she’d unquestionably succeed. ”Help me!” I begged my coworkers, who didn’t immediately move. “We won’t live unless we fight! Charge them!” I shouted, and that seemed to break the spell as at last, they did so, and within seconds twenty pegasus weather workers fell upon five choking Raven warriors and proceeded to pummel them beneath an onslaught of hooves and blunt items, soon rendering them unconscious or worse. We’d barely finished before their teammates reentered with their own improvised protective gear, firing crossbows and tossing in a pair of gems ahead of them within our midst.

”Scatter!” I called out in a panic as two of my coworkers took bolts to the chest and fell screaming or dead, my eyes going wide as I recognized the danger—Fell Flight had shown me the knife and a couple of (magically disarmed) gryphon-made explosive gems she’d taken off a raider she’d killed while rescuing a series of kidnapped earth pony families years earlier—so with adrenaline rushing through me I simply hefted and threw the beaten body of the first Raven on top of the nearest gem, which shredded it when it went off, sending blood and body parts flying everywhere but otherwise not harming us… except perchance psychologically as we were showered with blood. The second gem went off near several of my coworkers, peppering them with fragments and sending several to the floor injured.

Two could play at that game, however, as I went for the gem-filled belt pouches on another Raven’s fallen form, triggered one (Fell Flight had also shown me how it worked; you just pressed down on one end and then twisted it until it popped up) and tossed it towards the entrance. It turned out to be a shock gem as a series of crackling electric arcs went off close enough to cause my mane hairs to stand on end and snared the two Ravens outside; they simply didn’t see it coming through the smoke and their partially fogged goggles and fell unconscious to the ground, twitching hard.

‘Twas an enormous stroke of luck, I reflected later, that the first one I grabbed hadn’t been a smoke or flash gem, which wouldn’t have slowed them down much, but whether by fate, fortune or just sheer dumb luck, we’d somehow defeated the first Raven team. “Tie them up! And get their gems and weapons!” I directed, not sure how I’d ended up the leader—perhaps a little of your commanding manner did run in the family, Sister?—as I drew a sheathed Raven sword and tried to wield in my mouth, only to find it too heavy and clumsy, passing it to a stronger stallion. Their long knives were another matter, however, as I drew and took a few experimental swipes with one, wondering if I could kill.

I would get my answer all too soon as one of the unsecured gryphons began to move, and I panicked, rearing up and bringing the knife down as hard as I could into his back, repeatedly stabbing where I thought his heart might be. He screamed and tried to roll away but I did enough damage that he finally died, bleeding out on the ground before me.

It all happened so fast I had little chance to consider what I was doing, but afterwards I dropped the blade in shock as everypony stared at me, forced to remove my mask so I could throw up. The traumas of the day already taking their toll on me, I wanted nothing more than to just curl myself up into a ball at that moment and turn my mind off, faint dead away so I wouldn’t have to think about what I’d just done. For even if I survived that day, ‘twas no doubt in my mind I was going to see the moment I took a life in both my dreams and waking hours for the rest of my days.

But there was no time. There was no time, and there was still a second Raven team outside, threatening to come through the ceiling. I didn’t know why they hadn’t already until suddenly a dead gryphon body fell through the ceiling hole, her body impaled gruesomely on her own sword. I heard one or two more gryphon screams, then nothing more until a whirlwind formed over the hole in the ceiling, sucking out all the acidic fumes.

Expecting the worst, we immediately brandished our stolen weapons, but instead of another gryphon, a bloodied pegasus stallion flew in and looked around, holding a blade in his mouth and two borrowed belts of Raven throwing blades and gem pouches around his barrel. As his gleaming eyes immediately locked onto the beaten Raven forms below, I saw something approaching impressed in his gaze as he put the pieces together of what we’d done to save ourselves, a strange smile cracking his face. I knew who he was—we all did. Lieutenant Thunderbolt, mentor of Fell Flight, survivor of the Inland Shores massacre and hero of the Phoenix Fire operation; a pony who had declined all decoration for his deeds and had instead left the Corps afterwards to follow more peaceful pursuits.

We had no idea how woefully incomplete that version of events was then, but an education was soon to follow. “Defeated them with Rainbow fumes. I approve,” he informed us, then abruptly turned and threw a blade that found a stirring Raven, killing him instantly to our shock. “I cannot stay, but I will dispatch soldiers to this place as soon as I find them, and in the meantime I will be sending any rescued or wounded ponies here,” he informed us as his friend, Sergeant Virga led in a fresh procession of ponies from an adjacent building, the former now armed with blades of his own. “I suppose we will need at least a few prisoners and these will do. However…” To our horror, he methodically slashed the wingbase and lower limb tendons of each to cripple them, eliciting several shrieks and leaving me suddenly wondering who was the greater danger to us when I saw the icy look in his eyes...

A look that was shortly turned on me. “You,” he called to me, perchance recognizing from my bloodied blade beside me and trembling form what I’d just done. “Step forward,” he directed, and despite my state, his manner and tone was such that I obeyed instantly, as if I was one of his soldiers…

And perchance at that point, I was. “What is your name?” he asked me, his voice ungentle.

“M-Morning G-Glory…” I told him, my voice breaking.

He stared at me for a moment. “You are Fell Flight’s younger sister, are you not?” he asked me without a shred of sympathy, perchance recognizing me from the one time he’d visited our home.

“Y-Yes…” I told him, ashamed of myself, averting my eyes from his, understanding only then what my sister did and how unsuited I was for it. “B-but I am not her…”

In response, he then plucked the knife I’d used from the floor and inspected it. “‘Tis a good blade,” he told me, resheathing it and then offering it back to me. “And one that will serve you well. Do not hesitate to use it. Do not hesitate to kill. For this is war, and if you are to live, you must fight!” He shoved the blade back into my grasp when I didn’t immediately take it, then raised his voice for all us to hear.

“Heed my words and heed them well, fellow pegasi! As of this moment, you are soldiers, not civilians, and you have but two choices! You may lay down and die as the pacifist ponies of the Inland Shores settlements once did, refusing to even raise so much as a hoof in your own defense, or you can stand and fight as my disarmed soldiers did against the Lucavi there, exacting as high a price as possible and refusing to give up even in the face of impossible odds! Make your choice and make it quickly, for the gryphons intend to destroy this factory and slay all inside!” he said as more worker refugees arrived, some helping the wounded and others dragging salvaged rain clouds behind them.

Clouds he then made kneading motions into, darkening their surface as he somehow turned them into storm clouds, charging them with electricity. “If the Ravens return, use these to defend the entrance. We have more clouds outside and many more gryphons to slay! I ask all ponies willing and able to fight to join me, but know there are no guarantees of survival, either out there or in here!” he informed us bluntly. “Their numbers are vast and ours are presently few. So I ask for the brave and bold to come forth; for those ponies willing to lay down their lives for Cloudsdale and all Equestria to do so! Will any of you fight?” he asked as he stalked down the ragged line of my coworkers, but nopony immediately moved to do so, several looking away.

After a few seconds, he made a show of giving up. “‘Twould appear pegasi have gotten soft and forgotten their own history. I am disappointed but not surprised. So be it,” he sneered, turning on his wing to leave. “’Tis certain I will die, but I will fight them alone and kill as many as I can before falling.”

“W-wait!” I called after him. I was scared—terrified, even—but in the end, he was right: I was Fell Flight’s sister and I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing; not when she was likely fighting for her life far out on the frontier and after so many of my friends and coworkers had likely already been slain here. “I will fight!” I told him, wincing at my own breaking voice, stepping forward to present myself.

“And I…” a stallion stepped forth a second later, to gasps from his mares, brandishing a Raven scimitar in his mouth. “For my friends and for my herd!”

“If h-he’s fighting, we’re fighting!” his herdmates followed, perchance hoping to protect him.

“M-me too!” his friend spoke up.

“And me…” the youngest mare amongst us offered next.

With that, the dam broke, and most of my coworkers stepped up. “Much better…” Thunderbolt gave a thin smile. “Then our time is short, so listen and listen well…”

Defenders of Harmony

Over the next several minutes, Thunderbolt organized us into an improvised platoon of three squads, two of standard soldiers and one of scratch storm teams. Two of my coworkers had militia experience, so he made them squad leaders, gave us each an array of borrowed weapons and storm clouds and told us our main task was to defend cleared areas and support him in his work. I couldn’t fathom how he planned to take them all on himself, but there was something very scary in his eyes and manner that told me he could. Methinks that in the end, I was afraid not to obey him.

When we got outside, my guts clenched at the sights and sounds of battle. Smoke was rising from many buildings, several had already been engulfed in flames or destroyed, and worse, judging by all the bodies in the area, the Ravens had hit the cafeteria first for its concentration of workers at lunch, slaughtering them…

Meaning that having been assigned the latest lunch shift might have spared us. But what of my parents and siblings, who ate earlier…?

“Do you see what they intend, now?” Thunderbolt called back to us as he heard several choked sobs. “This is the fate they mean for all of us, and they have the numbers to do so!” he said, motioning around us. And indeed, we saw hundreds of gryphons orbiting the storm cloud factory and adjacent Corps base, as well as teams of ravens darting to and fro, several noticing us but not engaging us for our numbers, one calling into some kind of device. “Abandon all thoughts of peace and harmony. For here and now, they will not avail you!”

‘Wh-what should we do?” I asked—he’d made me the second squad leader given the ‘leadership’ I’d shown inside, for which I thought he was crazy; I had no idea what I was doing other than what Fell Flight had taught me once or twice when she’d come home on leave!

“What we do… is fight!” he announced as he grabbed an improvised storm cloud and triggered it, targeting a Raven team in flight. A bolt easily as powerful as any military grade one struck out and hit the formation dead center, killing two and sending the rest reeling from the force of the blast.

“Attack now while they’re dazed!” he ordered us, charging headlong for them, wielding his captured blade as skillfully as any Raven he fought, if not more. In truth, by the time we got there, he had slain most of them but two remained, so we swarmed them, killing both with the loss of only one, as the youngest mare of our group took a blade to the chest and was killed instantly.

Just like that, her life was ended. So young. So promising. Either out of fear or my own peer pressure, she had volunteered to fight, and for what…? I felt myself beginning to choke up, thinking again I couldn’t do this...

“Focus!” Thunderbolt called back, sensing our distress, his very voice putting steel in our spines. “We fight now, mourn later! Now again!” He all but snarled at us as he targeted a second nearby Raven group with his aerial artillery, this one grounded, and this time we followed close on the heels of his bolt, diving hard on them and reaching them before they could recover or take flight. Two got their crossbows up in time and one struck home, sending a bolt whistling past my ear and a second mare from my own squad falling from the sky with a wound to her shoulder that rendered her unable to fly.

Fortunately, she didn’t fall very far and landed in a cloud bank, which she quickly stained red and was pulled back inside the Rainbow Factory by those remaining under Virga’s direction. Blade in muzzle, I tackled one Raven and drove my knife into his chest as I did so, a feat I was only able to perform because the lightning strike left him partially paralyzed and unable to fight back. He also appeared to be deafened by the blood coming out his ears, leaving me wondering why Thunderbolt was hanging back this time and why he wasn’t just taking them out with lightning instead of sending us in…

Looking back, the answer was that he was trying to give us easy targets and get us used to fighting and killing as quickly as possible, and perchance he also knew that by being the triggerpony on the cloud, he was making himself a target and the center of enemy attention, giving us room to do our deadly work.

‘Twas only obvious in hindsight, however, as we dispatched the second dazed and deafened Raven group with the loss of two, leaving me wondering how long it would take before we were whittled down to nothing… and when I would be one of the casualties, only realizing after we were done that I’d taken a grazing sword strike to my flank. Whilst we completed our work, Thunderbolt and the rest of his improvised storm team opened up again on nearly a century of approaching gryphons, though the armor gleam told me that this group were Wind Knights, elite sky gryphon soldiers. Their armor was tough and tactics good; Thunderbolt and the other three teams knocked out a few with single bolts but he soon faced retaliation in the form of crossbow bolts, one of which found his foreleg, spearing right through it.

“Stay back!” he instructed us as he simply bit it off and extracted the bulk of the shaft with a pained grunt, ordering the rest of his team to keep firing as he recharged his cloud, making the kneading motion with his hooves again, ignoring both the incoming bolts and the blood dripping off his foreleg. “Storm teams! Leave!” he next directed as the gryphons got closer and two of his ‘gunners’ fell to crossbow bolts, sending them spiraling or outright plummeting to the ground. “Take cover and prepare to return on my signal!”

They hastened to obey, but not quite fast enough as the crossbow fire got steadily more accurate and two more Raven teams approached us from behind. On my own initiative, I directed us to intercept to buy time for whatever Thunderbolt was planning, shouting at the storm teams to cover us if they could.

I didn’t see what happened next, but I heard a crackling sound like an overcharged cloud, and suddenly there were a massive and unceasing series of rapid-fire booms, like continuous lightning. I looked back briefly to see he had thrown the cloud into the middle of the Knight formation after triggering it to discharge all its lightning at once, and it all but detonated in their midst, sending perchance two dozen gryphon Knights in close enough proximity to the cloud base below.

‘Twas a feat as transfixing as it was terrifying, but ‘twas also one he could not repeat. “Storm teams! Recover!” he directed but had no sooner began charging another cloud to attempt the attack again when it was struck by a magical beam from a trailing mage.

The cloud he was working with then exploded in lightning just like the one he’d used previously against the gryphons, and worse, the bolts struck the other stockpiled clouds we’d been using, setting them off as well. Within seconds, our storm teams were decimated as their weapons went off like gigantic shock gems, killing most of their crews and forcing the rest of us to take cover, even the Ravens rising to meet us, the bolts kicking up massive amounts of steam, smoke, or sulfuric blue flame depending on what they hit.

Just like that, we’d lost a third of our number and all our heavy weapons, to say nothing of our leader as a visibly burned Thunderbolt himself fell from the sky trailing smoke and sparks. He impacted the cloudtops softly but did not fall through—meaning his flight magic had not left him as he was still alive—for all the good it did us. Our leader was wounded, whilst the Ravens were nearly upon us with murder in their eyes, eager and able to avenge their losses. Even if they didn’t finish us, the approaching Knights certainly would; ‘twas unlikely any of us were going to live another two minutes.

With that realization, something changed in me. I knew we were dead, so I abandoned all hope for survival, and ‘twas a strangely liberating thing to have happen. For suddenly I had no fear left, and my entire life’s purpose was reduced to but one task...

Taking as many invading gryphons with me as I could.

The Lightning Demon

But Thunderbolt wasn’t finished yet, and as it turned out, neither were we. He pulled himself up, scorched but alive and very angry. Raw electricity from the bolts he’d taken crackled all around him; I could be mistaken but I swore even his lightning bolt cutie mark was glowing. The cloud’s electric detonation should have slain him, and yet, when it cleared…

Far from slaying him, it had charged him up!

‘Twas only then that the true meaning of his lightning bolt cutie mark became clear as he simply reared up and flared his wings, pointed his hooves skyward and released his stored electricity in the form of a massive and jagged lightning bolt, which even at a distance raised the hair on my mane. With an animal scream from his throat and a crashing boom from the monstrously powerful bolt, it pierced the mage’s shield with a single shot, sending her to the ground; I knew she was dead when she fell right through the cloud surface.

Methinks I only realized at that moment Thunderbolt was what ponies call an elemental, possessing an affinity for a single force or element of nature. ‘Twas a rare talent even among unicorns, but he not only had it, he had clearly developed it to the point that he could use it and any cloud he got his wings on as a very effective weapon…

And as the gryphons would soon realize to their dismay, that included the very clouds underneath his hooves.

Sensing a charge building beneath my own, I withdrew the remains of the platoon out of range as lightning began arcing out like anvil crawlers along the cloud surface and then leaped upwards in dozens of bolts, spearing more Knights as they neared him, breaking up their formations and making them recoil from his attack en masse. He wasted little time after that before launching himself into the midst of their disrupted platoons, engaging the enemy all by himself and leaving me wondering what he needed us for. Were we just distraction or fodder to him? No, he’d used us to whittle down the odds and give him more freedom to do his deadly work, and perchance give us some confidence in ourselves along the way.

And so it went as he fought and slew half a century of gryphons one by one. A decapitation. A broken neck. A stab through the heart. A slashed throat. A crushed skull. A deflected lightning bolt turned back on its owner. Knights, Ravens, or Magus, it didn’t matter; he slew all who challenged him within moments, their attacks effortlessly parried, their defenses swatted aside. I took advantage of their panic and distraction to ambush a few gryphons with my remaining twenty ponies, even managing a few shots with a spare storm cloud I myself retrieved from the rainbow factory, splitting their attention when they could least afford it, now in a fight for their lives.

With half their force gone and realizing that engaging Thunderbolt in close combat was futile, the gryphons tried to spread out to engage him at range with explosive-tipped crossbows, but he gave them no chance, keeping in constant motion and effortlessly dodging their attacks; proving that pegasus agility had the advantage in close quarters. And when in desperation they charged him as one, he simply landed and stood still, and then as they got close, reared up and stomped downwards with both forehooves, causing lightning to again erupt from the cloudtop in every direction, striking down a half dozen more gryphons around him.

‘Twas a that point a surviving mage tried to attack him with fire instead of lightning, only for it to be batted aside by a gust of wind-generated wind right into a pair of ambushing Ravens, immolating them. Running out of options and in increasing desperation she used her most powerful wind spell, trying to pin him to the cloud surface with it. But he even turned that against her, using his flight magic to twist the gale into a funnel that then sucked hard at her, forcing her to use her power just to stay still… which no longer became an option as he forced the tornado towards her and finally pulled her inside it, slamming her into the building to stun her and then impaling her against the wall with a thrown sword.

Within minutes the first wave of gryphon soldiers was gone. Methinks he had accounted for nearly a century of troops all by himself, but was starting to get winded to say nothing of the damage he had taken from the lightning burns to the crossbow bolt. ‘Twas unlikely even he could survive the second wave we could see inbound, reinforcements dispatched from the siege of the Corps base… or perchance they had finished off the battalion there, freeing up more troops. In any event, they knew what was happening; they were approaching much more cautiously and Thunderbolt was now visibly exhausted, to say nothing of the rest of us. We thought we were once again doomed…

Until reinforcements of our own arrived from the other side of the city. But methinks, Captain, that ‘tis time for me to pass the quill, for that part of the story I cannot tell.

Indeed, my honorary niece and beloved Aunt in all but name to my own foals, but be assured there is somepony who can.

I commend you for your superb storytelling, Sky Sergeant, and marvel at Thunderbolt’s incredible ability to not just kill but inspire, to say nothing of the bravery you displayed that day. You were frightened beyond measure, and yet you overcame it to not only survive, but become the soldier Thunderbolt called you, a soldier that even your own sister respects greatly to this day.

I apologize for the unpleasant memories I’m sure this sparked, and I ask all readers to reflect that those who survived that day were those who fought, not fled. In the end, with the attack on our ancestral home, the Cloudsdale pegasi rediscovered their warrior heritage that day, and ‘twas something the gryphons would greatly rue.

Bravery is the capacity to perform properly even when scared half to death. — Omar Bradley

Author's Notes:

Welcome back to the war, folks, and as you can see, civilians are quickly being pulled into the fighting as well. Though he did not directly contribute to this chapter, the idea for the rainbow gassing was Leo Archon’s. It was a very good idea—I wasn’t honestly sure how to allow the weather workers to believably be able to fight back against the ninja Ravens—so I took it and ran with it, and this was the result. The Ravens, by the way, are having a weakness exposed. They’re supremely skilled and superb assassins who did well against the Royal Guard at Fort Spur, and they’re unquestionably lethal when working from the shadows. But here, they’re suffering in open combat and larger-scale battles, lacking as they do the protective armor of the Knights or even their Equestrian counterparts, the Black Lances. There’ll be more to say about this later.

Thanks as always to my prereading team of AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, and Denim_Blue, who filled the google doc with tons of banter and commentary. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; some of the most fun I have doing this is reading the back-and-forth and even contributing to it. This is the middle chapter of a three-chapter Cloudsdale arc which stars Thunderbolt. The final chapter will be told from yet another third point of view as the entire city soon rose in its own defense.

Part 8 - Uprising

Before we begin this crucial third chapter to the Battle of Cloudsdale, I would like to take a moment to thank all those who have contributed or still will to this growing work.

This includes the trio of guest authors that have penned these latest chapters describing the combat and outright carnage at Cloudsdale, to say nothing of those pegasi, civilian and soldier alike, who fought in the city’s defense. I know full well ‘tis oft painful to relive the battles we fought and remember those who fell, but ‘tis necessary that we do so to honor their memory and ensure their legacy lives on.

‘Twas not my original intention that we marked these chapters with visits to the battle sites we describe, but as we write we find ourselves all but compelled to, wishing to remember or at least reminisce. As the Equestrian Officer Academy was out of session for the recent winter holidays, the surviving Bolt Knights gathered in Cloudsdale for a New Years’ commemoration of the recently unveiled monument of Thunderbolt, an exquisitely carved statue erected in front of the Remedial Flyers’ School he once taught at, a place where he can forever stand watch over the city he once saved. I have more to say about this event, but this is one instance where I feel my words are best saved for the end; for after the full story of the battle is told.

In the meantime, I turn my quill back over to those who were present at Cloudsdale during the Gryphon attack. I promise that the story’s attention will return to my own battalion at Epsilon soon enough, but ‘tis simply little point in it for now. For mid-afternoon on the first of September, we were not under attack but knew well one was coming; with all the other outposts around us falling one by one I had no doubt that the next wave would hit us at nightfall and be far more difficult to defeat.

Thank you, Captain. ‘Twas good to see you again at the dedication, and Fell Flight’s speech in honor of Thunderbolt brought tears to mine and many other eyes. I, too, have more to say about the dedication and Thunderbolt, but like you, I feel ‘tis best saved for the battle’s end.

Cloudsdale
Weather Factory
September 1st, 1139 AC
1252 hours

Methinks I had lost count of how many times I was certain I was dead.

Looking back, I’d had at least four of them to that point yet somehow, I was still alive and fighting... and so was Thunderbolt despite his burns and crossbow wound. He’d single-hoofedly decimated an entire century of elite gryphon warriors but now a second, larger force was streaking in from their siege of Fort Tempest, and they were forewarned as to what they were facing.

Recognizing that he was their sole focus and that without storm clouds we had no hope of helping him, he ordered us off, instructing us to defend the Rainbow Factory we were using as a base. But instead of engaging us, the Knights and Ravens ignored us, the second century of elite gryphon warriors fanning out to encircle him at a respectful distance, not immediately attacking. Burned and bloodied from the earlier wave—I couldn’t tell when, but at some point he’d been slashed by a Raven blade; there was a dripping red line visible on his side—he goaded them in their own language, but discipline held as no less than four sky gryphon mages confronted him from nearly a hundred yards away, each brandishing a gem-studded staff or larger stave pointed directly at him.

He could not counterattack as he had before, as he’d already discharged all of his stored lightning, and he could not produce more without additional storm clouds that we did not have. That, or allow himself to be struck with another mage-triggered lightning bolt to recharge him. Unfortunately, ‘twas instantly apparent that the Gryphon Magus Knights were fully aware of that as, at the shouted order of their leader, great gouts of magus fire erupted towards him instead of the violet-tinged lightning they had tried before. Though an impressive display, I couldn’t see what good that would do as he could—and did—just deflect them away with blasts of wind from his wings. He tried to redirect the flames towards the gryphons, but the distance was simply too far. And when he tried to close with them, he was met with shield and simple levitation spells, the mages magically holding him back as the atmosphere visibly heated up around him, causing the very air to shimmer, distorting what I could see of him.

‘Twas then clear what their plan was for dealing with him. ‘Twas as brilliant as ‘twas brutal to behold; methinks I must credit the gryphons for coming up with such an unconventional plan so quickly. First, two of the mages pinned him in place with levitation spells. As powerful as he was, they couldn’t hold him still to be targeted by crossbows, but they could limit his movement enough for the other two mages to then trap him inside a large shield spell.

Their cage created, the first two mages then dropped their levitation magic to pour fire inside the shield, turning it into a makeshift oven—one that would cook him alive if it didn’t suffocate him first. The flames rapidly sucked all the oxygen out of the air, leaving him clawing at his throat as he struggled to stay conscious and keep the inferno at bay with his wind. ‘Twas a task made all the more difficult as the mages then began to contract the sphere, both strengthening the magical barrier and giving him less and less room to fly in; he managed one last weak lightning bolt that caused the shield to falter briefly but a third mage than switched her spell, leaving just one to keep pouring fire within it whilst he was now trying and failing to penetrate a shield spell maintained by no less than three mages, all intent on killing him.

“Thunderbolt!” We called to him in vain as we could see our only hope for victory weakening inside it. He could not escape and there was nothing we could do to help him; methinks he had but a half a minute left before the flames or simply an inability to breathe slew him.

Watching grimly from below, Thunderbolt’s one-winged friend and former Corps Sergeant Virga Veil took command. He began shouting orders, having us set barricades and position the three remaining storm clouds that Thunderbolt had given us to defend the building, passing out the captured Raven gems to use as well. The Ravens had probed and sniped but had not returned since Thunderbolt’s appearance. Once he was dead, though, they or the Knights would storm the building... or, worse, I realized then with a sinking heart, they could simply have their mages level it with fire or lightning whilst we were still inside.

Once again, ‘twould seem we were doomed. Following Virga’s orders like the soldier I had somehow become, I readied the remains of my improvised platoon for close combat and what ‘twas certain to be a futile final stand, hoping to take out at least one or two more gryphons before falling.

As my life began to flash before my eyes, I thought of my parents, my herd, and my siblings, and with the latter, my thoughts settled on Fell Flight. I wondered if she was still alive, and if she was, if she would ever know of what had happened here and what I had done…

That I had fought and died trying to be like her, defending Equestria from the gryphons.

I did indeed, dear sister, and I admire you immensely for the bravery and boldness you showed that day, overcoming your fears to fight against opponents as numerous as they were dangerous.

‘Tis worth noting the old adage that courage is not the absence of fear, but acting in spite of it, and you did so, setting an example that your friends and fellow weather workers followed. I mourn their loss along with you, but I need not tell you any longer to not blame yourself or Thunderbolt for that. For in the end, as I said in the speech, he did not lead you to your deaths in a futile struggle, but rather, showed you how to resist and gave not just the weather factory but all of Cloudsdale a fighting chance for life. He showed you how to fight back, and better yet, gave you the tools to do so.

With your permission, Captain, methinks I would like to introduce the final pony to tell the story of the battle myself. I only met her once briefly before the war, at the ceremony where Windshear was presented by the Princess with his first Defender of Harmony award, but I took an instant liking to her. A retired Corps soldier and a member of my former commander’s herd, she remains loyal to his memory and foals she bore him to this day. She served with honor, she suffered his loss, and even before they knew his fate, neither she nor her sister hesitated to fight when Cloudsdale was attacked.

Thank you for your kind words, honored Emissary and former First Lieutenant. Know in turn that Windshear wrote and spoke of you repeatedly whilst in command of Outpost Omega, noting he’d never seen such an intense and driven soldier before and that your eyes were the greatest asset his base had. He once told me that you wouldst go far and had no doubt you wouldst end up with a command of your own one day, though methinks not even he could foresee that you wouldst in time become an ambassador and emissary to the bat-ponies, doing your greatest work in peace as opposed to war.

Greetings, dear friends and readers. My name is Orchard Oriole, former and forever mare of Windshear, and I wish to offer special thanks to Captain Firefly for allowing me the opportunity to pen my own part of this tale. ‘Twas fitting, methinks, that during the dedication she and her original Bolt Knight comrades stayed in the company of our beloved Windshear’s family, seeing his longtime home and herd for the very first time. Methinks it did our hearts good to at long last meet his legendary protege and see some of the many lives he touched.

For those who do not know, my two sisters and I entered the Aerial Corps at the same time as Windshear did so many years ago, ending up in the same training company and later, the same squad with Windshear in command of us.

‘Tis no exaggeration to say that we fell head over hooves for him during that time—for how could we not fall in love with such a strong and skilled young stallion who showed a surprising acumen for both combat and command?

We saw action together for the first time during a Gryphon raid on Trottingham that cost us my sister Cardinal, but ‘tis also true what they say about bonds forged in battle—once forged, they never falter, and ‘twas not long after that we formally herded. My sister Blue Jay and I left the Corps after our enlistment was up to concentrate on raising our first foals, but Windshear stayed behind, knowing the Corps—and defending the frontier from the Gryphon Empire—was where he belonged.

We worried about him, of course, none more so than when we received word of his first, near-lethal battle with a Red Talon. But his thoughts were ever of us and in the end, he left the front lines for us, transferring to the Royal Guard to keep himself safe and able to visit his mares and foals more often.

I will not linger too long on the rest of his story, which was told in the prequel of this one, except to say that I have never known a finer, more honorable or more devoted stallion before or since. We loved and revered him to the point that his herd stayed together even after his death... though ‘tis certain we faced our own ends that fateful first day of war as the Gryphons invaded Cloudsdale. But the great city of the sky was home to many present and retired Corps veterans as well as the Cloudsdale militia, as the gryphons would soon learn to their cost…

They would also learn that even civilian pegasi were not as far removed from their martial past as they might have believed.

Cloudsdale
Central District
Royal Legion Museum
September 1st, 1139 AC
1235 hours

Methinks there is little I can say about the prelude to the attack that has not been said already or otherwise rendered cliché.

‘Twas naught but a typical day for us in the Windshear herd household as dawn broke on September 1st. Our family was mostly grown at that point; the youngest of our nine foals was nearly thirteen whilst our four oldest had left home years before. Of those, three had joined the military, seeking to follow in their sire’s wingbeats even with his stated wish that they did not: Windshear’s two eldest daughters had both enlisted in the Corps as soon as they turned nineteen whilst Winter Storm, his 24-year old son borne him by Blue Jay (so named for an event that marked his birth), had not only followed them into the Corps but planned to transfer to the Royal Guard as soon as his new herd bore him a son of his own. Windshear was not happy about that—in truth, none of us were—but as he so often said, ‘twas not his place to deny his offspring the chance to serve and offer up their lives for Equestria.

‘Twas a normal morning, and I cannot claim I had any premonitions or troubling thoughts as I rose with my other herd mares to see our remaining five school-age foals off to class. There were four mares in Windshear’s herd at that point: myself and Blue Jay, a former PSD agent named Red Tail who now worked as a security guard by the weather factory, and the newest member of our herd was Gust Front, a retired Corps veteran who had been Windshear’s executive officer whilst he was in charge of Outpost Omega and had later succeeded him in command. Having left active duty to become a Corps recruiter, we accepted her readily because, like me and Blue Jay, she had fought at his side and truly understood him, eventually retiring to be with him after ending a fourteen-year Corps career, nearly five years of which was spent in his presence.

Having been with him ourselves for so long, we understood well enough that Windshear’s place and purpose was that of a warrior, so we never pushed him to retire as we had. Then again, nor could we escape our own martial past even after leaving the Corps—when Windshear defeated his first Red Talon following a massive raider attack on Outpost Omega, we immediately brushed up on our combat skills, fearing vengeance strikes from the Ravens. Red Tail taught us knife-fighting and close-quarters combat she’d learned in the PSD in case we needed it, and even obtained for us some PSD weaponry in the form of concealable blades, various nonlethal flavors of crystals and even the wrist-mounted miniature crossbows PSD agents favored to thwart assassination attempts.

I carried them all with me for a time, but eventually stopped after a few years except for a small knife hidden in my uniform jacket. Though the Red Talons had sworn vengeance against Windshear, we worried little about them as they and the rest of the Imperial military would consider targeting his family dishonorable. The raiders our stallion fought and defeated were another matter, but for them to travel the hundreds of miles inside Equestria to strike Cloudsdale itself ‘twould be complete and utter folly. They were vengeful, not suicidal, after all. Neigh, ‘twas certain that only the gryphon military itself had the training and resources to launch such an audacious operation…

But we never thought it could actually happen. Though a gryphon attack was certainly a contingency the Corps and Cloudsdale militia had planned for, as we knew full well the city was within striking distance of sky gryphon soldiers for at least a few months of the year around the end of summer, ‘twould be a lie to say we ever truly took the threat seriously. ‘Twas simply unthinkable to us that the Empire would send nearly two thousand troops over six hundred miles to attack our great city, defended by over double that number of Corps and militia troops as it was.

Unthinkable, but not impossible, as on that day we learned to our great cost that Imperial ambitions were great indeed.

The Unthinkable

The first inkling something was wrong was whilst Blue Jay and I were having lunch in the cafe of the Royal Legion museum we both worked at. We had just wrapped up morning tours for two field trips from local schools, and with them concluded were looking forward to a relaxing afternoon of tending exhibits and answering questions from the few adult patrons that we could expect on a weekday afternoon.

‘Twas then that a panicked young pegasus colt burst in on us and all who were eating there, saying that the gryphons had declared war and had been sighted approaching the city in large numbers; this despite the many hundreds of miles distance ‘twas for them to fly from the pony/gryphon frontier. In disbelief, we followed him outside where we beheld… hundreds of Imperial Knights, easily identifiable by their gold-hued armor, descending on the main militia base just a few miles away with a second, even larger group striking the distant other end of the city, where the weather factory and Corps base defending it lay.

My first emotion was shock over what was happening, which quickly gave way to fear for my family and city, then anger that the gryphons would dare attack them. My first thoughts, naturally, were of my own foals and family, wondering if being part of Windshear’s herd meant we would be directly targeted—were the Ravens sending assassins for us even as I watched? I wondered as I patted the knife hidden within the lining of my museum tour guide uniform. My second was of Cloudsdale itself, realizing that as sudden and large-scale as this attack was, that the city might not be able to defend itself. And my third…

My third was to shake off my shock and grab some old armor and weapons from the museum exhibits to join the defense of the city. The ancient Royal Legion had fought not with wingblades but with spears and short swords, protecting their soldiers with enchanted shields and armor; we kept our small supply of old equipment in working order and even demonstrated its use during tours and battle reenactments. So we not only had access to their ancient weaponry, but all of us who worked at the museum knew how to wield them. And perchance the gryphons, only used to modern Corps weapons and tactics as they were, might be caught off guard by them.

Blue Jay was of the same mind as I—once a soldier, always a soldier, and thus, we would fight! Though civilians, we were also Corps veterans, as were many others working at the museum or other nearby businesses that day, and it pleases me to say we wasted little time in organizing ourselves and the initially more frightened civilians into a coherent defense. Exhibits and storage vaults were broken into, weapons and protective gear passed out, and improvised squads formed along Corps lines; with a little encouragement and perchance a few reminders of friends at the militia base or weather factory now in danger. Spines were steeled, steel helmets were donned, and before long, methinks even our younger colts and fillies were soon ready and eager to fight the invaders.

Though gratified by their response, ‘tis certain Blue Jay and I were under no illusions of what we faced—we knew full well from countless Corps briefings that Knights were elite soldiers, far better than the average raiders we faced, and sky gryphons in general had a significant advantage in strength and stamina over pegasi—otherwise they could not have flown six hundred miles to a fight! And this was to say nothing of predatory features like their beaks and talons that were not only lethal weapons in their own right, but the latter could be used to grip swords and crossbows that pegasi could not easily wield.

Against that, pegasus advantages were speed and maneuverability, to say nothing of weather control. In days of yore, Cloudsdale did not have a weather factory and pegasi could not manufacture storm clouds on a mass scale. But the Royal Legion had not needed to; they had invented ways to enhance naturally occurring clouds to charge them with lightning and turn even common cumulus into lethal weapons. By chance, we just so happened to have their ancient means of doing so at hoof—a special magical concoction distilled from an extract of Lapis Lazuli crystals infused with lava from the Ifrit Volcano as well as a few other more minor ingredients; vials of a potent potion that, when added dropwise into a cloud, charged them with a single lightning bolt per drop.

We knew their formula and distillation process, and though strictly regulated and requiring several rather... rare reagents, some select unicorns at the EIS’s Office of Magical Research were allowed to produce it for us in small amounts for purposes of history. We had used them before in battle reenactments to show how pegasi of old fought using their environment; we just never thought that the ways of the Royal Legion would ever be useful in combat again!

We had a small supply at hoof, six vials each containing fifty drops, so we simply dug out some pieces of cloud from our own city’s surface and charged them with lightning in this manner. We charged twenty clouds with an average of ten bolts each until we ran out of the potion… except for two vials, which I thought was best kept in reserve. For there was a second way the Royal Legion could use them, but we needed a perfect set-up to do so.

Royal Legion Reborn

Ten minutes later, we and nearly two hundred nearby pegasi were armed and ready to fight; organized into a single scratch company with the old Corps veteran who ran the museum, Captain Silverhawk, sire of Red Tail, in command. Appointed by him as a platoon leader, I was wearing replica pleather chest and foreleg coverings (this alone wasn’t authentic—the Legion used actual animal skins; ‘twas a different era and pegasi were far less reluctant to hunt and eat meat back then) as well as an old metal helmet that was proof against the blades and bows of the age. The metal torso armor the legion used likewise offered excellent protection against physical and magical attacks, but ‘twas simply too heavy for me so ‘twas reserved for stallions.

My ensemble was completed with a large enchanted shield that was the Legion’s signature equipment. The Royal Legion gave such shields to all their squad leaders whilst their rank-and-file got a spear and short sword, but we didn’t have enough of them to go around, so only platoon leaders got them. Squad leaders instead got swords as a sign of rank, whilst their squad members were given spears and storm clouds, one of the latter per squad, with those wielding the former expected to protect the latter as they did their deadly work.

‘Twas an improvised force based on what we had, and I did dread the losses we were likely to suffer as we took flight for the city militia base, still under siege and still fighting if the lightning flashes were any indication, blue-tinged pony-generated bolts alternating with the violet-hued ones from gryphon mages. As we neared, Silverhawk told us—quite properly—that the mages were our primary targets, and told our storm teams to concentrate lightning on them, saving the Knights for later.

Our actions were far from an isolated occurrence, as it turned out. All over the city, pegasi were rousing themselves to the city’s defense; forming improvised units and flying to the scene. Seeing our formation, many flew up to join us as we headed for the militia base armed with everything from privately owned wingblades to simple cutlery pulled from kitchen shelves. As I read the earlier chapter, I find that this was not so much the case at the weather factory, as perchance the shock of the initial attack was simply too great… or perchance ‘twas simply that those of us who were not under immediate threat had the opportunity to take stock and decide on what to do. In the end, with our family, friends and city in danger, there was but one thing our pegasi blood and warrior heritage would allow us to do.

Our numbers had swollen to nearly three hundred by the time we arrived at the scene to see the Knights having already reduced half the base and bitterly engaged with the on-duty militia troops, who fought in the cone-shaped aerial phalanx formations of old with spear and shield; only the flanking members of the phalanx having wingblades. The Corps thought such tactics obsolete, and not without reason as, facing well-trained Knights armed with more versatile distance weapons that easily overmatched militia spears, they were suffering severe casualties as the Knights and magus simply broke up their block formations with explosive-tipped crossbow bolts and lightning strikes, sometimes killing several at a time with a single bolt and allowing the gryphon soldiers to close-in to finish them with scimitars and steel claws.

Facing six centuries of elite gryphon soldiers, the twelve hundred on-duty members of the pegasus militia had hastily mobilized and fought valiantly—but futilely—against the superior soldiers and weapons, unable to do much damage. Their lightning teams had in fact accounted for the bulk of the fifty or so casualties the gryphons had suffered at their hooves rather than their spears, having apparently opened up on them during their approach, but their clouds and crews now lay fallow and shredded, with steam and blue vapors around them along with the smoking bodies of their teams that hadn’t already fallen through the clouds. And lacking the lightning support their old fighting doctrine called for, their phalanxes had been left easy prey; at least half their soldiers now lay dead, the Plum River stained red with their blood.

‘Twas a terrible sight that did indeed make our stomachs turn; none were unaffected by the sheer carnage we saw inside and around the base, many of us having friends within the militia. We didn’t know what had happened, but ‘twas quite apparent that the Knights had nearly completed their work, having driven their opponents to ground and now reducing the facility building by building. They saw us approach and an entire century broke off to engage us supported by three Magus Knights, but not without the lead one first calling out a warning:

“Equestrians! Listen and take heed!” The eagless mage announced in Equish, her magic making her voice boom loudly; we couldn’t help but stop short as we realized we were spotted. “The Gryphon Empire has declared war on Equestria, and this is an Imperial military operation against your city’s martial forces and industries! On our warrior honor, civilians and non-military targets will not be harmed... unless you wouldst attempt to fight us!” She warned us, igniting her stave and making it glow red with fire. “Turn back now, or you will be considered combatants! Turn back now... or you will be slain!” she warned us again, casting a shield spell as the Knights flanking her at the other mage notched crossbow arrows and took aim, threatening to release a deadly volley.

At that point, ‘tis certain we did not know the lie of her statements being proven at the weather factory, where an even larger force of Knights had pinned down the Corps battalion at Fort Tempest so that the Ravens could engage in a systematic slaughter of weather factory workers. We saw no Ravens amongst the attackers here, though methinks I knew better than to expect there were none.

“How dare you!” ‘Twas then that Captain Silverhawk flew forth, dressed in his old Corps Captain’s uniform and gear, all of which he kept at the museum he lived in as curator. “You expect us to hover meekly by and do nothing whilst you invade our city, slaughter our friends, and destroy our very way of life? All the while speaking to us of honor?” he said with a glance back at the other end of the city where the burning weather factory lay, speaking into his old blue command gem that amplified his words enough to be heard on both sides of the Plum River. To his credit, neither his voice nor flight faltered despite all the weapons trained on him, continuing to berate and threaten the invaders.

“You and your entire Empire have stirred a hornet’s nest by coming here, Second Spear! And for the lives you have taken, you and your troops will pay a heavy price!” he called out as the rest of us fanned out to engage, storm clouds going into a battle line and positioning to strike with massed lightning volleys, but the gryphon soldiers seemed strangely unconcerned by them.

The Magus was likewise unimpressed. “If death is your wish, former Captain of the Corps, we will grant it to you and all you now lead! Do not expect a favorable outcome if you wouldst fight!” she warned again, recognizing his older uniform design—clearly, the gryphons had been briefed well on what they might face.

Silverhawk looked at her in disbelief. “And methinks you are an overconfident foal! You are outnumbered three to one and face the equivalent of a full storm battalion, Second Spear! Your shields will not avail you against such an onslaught! But even if they could, do you really think you could withstand not only us, but the reinforcements to follow?” he challenged her looking back to see additional improvised formations approaching as many other pegasi throughout the city had had the same thoughts we had, gathering themselves and racing to confront the invaders from all corners of the city. “Cease your attack and surrender now, and we will not lay waste your forces!” he offered, fully expecting—and I daresay hoping—’twould be turned down.

She barely suppressed a sneer at that. “We make you the same offer, Captain!” The magus replied after a quick glance at her Wind Knight commander, who wore the insignia of a Centurion, getting a quick spoken order from him, his look smug. “We do not fear your storm clouds, and having already annihilated those belonging to your militia, perchance ‘twould be in your best interests to consider why! This is your final warning! Attack us and die!” She punctuated her statement with a squawked order to her forces who assumed attack formations of their own and a lightning bolt that passed close enough over our heads to raise the hairs on our manes.

In response, he looked back at us to gauge our morale, and we likewise all exchanged glances with each other. What he saw were a series of short but sharp nods that caused our commander to smile, seeing that our spines were steeled, our decision made. Whether veteran or civilian, mare or stallion, not one of us was going to take the offer, and with our force consisting of three hundred angry pegasi, nearly a third of whom were Corps or militia veterans, wielding various weapons as well as twenty freshly-charged storm clouds between us—surely the gryphons were not so foalish as to ignore their very real threat?—we knew we could give as good as we got, even facing the Imperial elite.

“So be it, Second Spear! Let us see whose promise is kept! Storm Teams! Target their mages! Platoons! Protect the gunners and prepare to engage the Knights at my signal!” Silverhawk ordered as he raised his hoof, causing his newly formed company to gather in attack formations as well, packing in close around the clouds with shield holders at the front of our forces as we’d already arranged.

His orders were met with matching ones from the gryphon side as the Knights scattered to a greater distance before the lightning threat, countering with crossbows whilst the three mages gathered together to combine their shield spells, reinforcing them and making them doubly difficult to batter down, though twenty clouds could do it. We had no idea why they were exposing themselves like that, nor why the Knights had not struck preemptively. But their discipline held; we later learned they were under strict orders not to engage civilians unless the civilians attacked first, and thus, they had to wait for us to make the first move.

Despite that, ‘twas clear they were planning something, but none of us yet knew what. “Hear me, gryphons! If ‘tis war you have declared, ‘tis war you shall have!” Silverhawk proclaimed, speaking for us all. “Storm teams! For Cloudsdale and all Equestria! Attack!” he ordered, and with that, twenty storm clouds were triggered at once in a deadly volley, their lethal bolts of electricity lancing upwards towards the three shielded mages.

Thank you for a very compelling opening, Lady Oriole, and know that you and Cloudsdale pegasi acquitted themselves brilliantly that day. It strikes me now that the gryphons were rehearsed and ready for Corps and Militia tactics, but had no idea there was another, far more ancient armed force who could reach out from the very annals of pegasus history to fight them.

But before we continue with this part of the story, a brief shift in perspective over to Epsilon is in order, as the question has been posed to me as this latest chapter is being written: did we at Epsilon know what was happening at places like Fort Spur and Cloudsdale? The answer follows.

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1st, 1139 AC
1340 hours

“New message from Gamma, ma’am…” Fell Flight informed me in the early afternoon when our communications gems spat out a new scroll, and I knew from the look in her slitted eyes that the news was not good as she summoned me back to the watchtower from where I’d been, interrogating prisoners and policing the grounds. We’d been able to take only a few wounded gryphons into custody following the early morning battle, as, true to Talon form, most had killed themselves rather than surrender. “Cloudsdale is under heavy attack. Initial reports state the Gryphons have sent well over a millennium of Knights against it,” she told me, clearly struggling to control her emotions.

I did not immediately answer, though I understood the implications well enough, my eyes closing in silent prayer for the civilians and forces we had there. Even in my wildest fears and fantasies, I had not actually believed the gryphons could strike the great city so far inside Equestrian borders, and on such short notice. That they could ‘twas testament to their training, to their new Prelate’s meticulous planning… and their numbers that they had such forces to spare even as the Knights and Talons were steadily reducing the Army and Aerial Corps border bases to nothing. We were finding ourselves more and more isolated as both Delta and the Army base at Outpost Blue had fallen silent just in the past hour, meaning they were most likely lost…

Meaning that we were now likely the only border force still standing this side of Omega, which we had only fragmentary contact with. We’d heard little from anywhere else; I took some comfort from not hearing that Fort Spur had been struck as the stolen war plans had implied, trying not to think of the possibility that it and my sister still would be... or worse, the base had already fallen but word had simply not reached us.

“I see…” I told her at some length as I looked out over the canyon, lost in my own brooding thoughts, my forces now on continuous patrol and unable to do much except watch for and await the next gryphon attack. “I know how you must feel, Master Sergeant. If you need some time to yourself...” I felt compelled to add, but the lie of my own empathy tasted bitter on my tongue. For how could I know how she felt? I’d been to the city all of once whilst many soldiers under my command like Fell Flight and Blindside had their families there; I could only imagine what was going through Fell Flight’s head at this hour as both her promised command at Omega and her family at Cloudsdale were endangered, but she was unable to help either.

To that point, the gryphons had attempted nothing more than harassment since their disastrous first attack but were steadily closing the space in which we could operate, pressing in slowly from all sides and cutting off all possible avenues of reinforcement or escape. Patrols had spotted at least two points they appeared to be massing troops for their next attack and worse, a number of Knights had been seen among them. It meant the next attempt on our base, whenever it came, would be backed by their elite soldiers, and we could be assured ‘twould not repeat the mistakes of the first.

“How I feel is helpless, ma’am,” my second told me through clenched teeth. “Helpless to stop any of this, helpless to even fight back. Helpless just to wait for our own end and know that any other choice we make leads only to our earlier annihilation!” She brought her hoof down hard enough to crack the stone floor. “By the sun and Luna’s moon, ma’am, I want to fight!”

“Steady, Master Sergeant,” First Sergeant Still Way told her, the ranking member of our three Celestial Guardsponies having levitated himself up to the watchtower to stand watch whilst Steelheart rested and Stormrunner was out on patrol with Sergeant Blindside’s 3rd platoon. “To act in anger is to play into our enemy’s hooves. We must make our decisions calmly and rationally, and with an eye on what will either buy us the most time, or cost our enemies the most.”

Fell Flight was in no mood for such advice. “So you wouldst have us sit back and wait, First Sergeant? To do nothing whilst Equestria crumbles around us and our brethren in the Army and Aerial Corps fight and die unaided by our forces?” she challenged the strangely serene stallion, one whom I’d never seen raise his voice or show even the slightest hint of temper or frustration, even though he’d encountered plenty of the latter whilst trying to train our initially recalcitrant healer team to use longbows and defensive spells.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied evenly and with an odd smile, his own bow sheathed on his back with a nearly-full quiver of arrows still present. “Just that we make our military decisions rationally, not rashly.”

Before Fell Flight could retort, another scroll materialized at that moment from one of the Dragonfire gems in a puff of green smoke. “If I may, commander…?” he asked politely, and with my nod, Still Way plucked it up in his aura and unfurled it to read, gaining a smile as he did so. “Well, then. Perchance, Master Sergeant, there is a way we might satisfy both our desire to fight and the need to preserve our force. I believe you will both approve of what no less than Captain Sirocco has done… and find within a possibility for what we might do?” he suggested almost slyly as he motioned down at the scroll, passing it to us.

Fell Flight and I read it together, our eyes going wide as we finally read some good battle news, a toothy grin parting our lips as we learned what our Division commander had done. Methinks we both had the same idea as Still Way when we read the dispatch, and my already-great admiration for our esteemed Captain of the Corps 5th Division only increased for it.

“Orders, ma’am?” Fell Flight asked eagerly.

“Summon the ready platoon and half our storm teams!” I ordered Fell Flight, who nodded eagerly as I grabbed a map marked with the growing gryphon troop concentrations, studying it and making some quick markings on it. “If Gamma could do it facing much larger numbers, perchance we can too…”

A Battle Joined

Cloudsdale
Plum River, northwest of Militia base
September 1st, 1139 AC
1250 hours

We were surprised when the mages allowed our first volley of gold-tinged lightning bolts to impact their shields unimpeded.

They visibly grimaced under the onslaught, but their barriers held, though by the way they flickered ‘twas fairly clear they couldn’t survive more than one or two strikes more. We were doubly surprised when the Knights did not take advantage of our preoccupation by sweeping around our flanks or at least harassing us with crossbow fire, holding them at the ready but not triggering them, seemingly waiting for something—but what, I wondered as I continued to hold up my shield, keeping my tightly-packed platoon in its cone of protection. I had seen enough action in the Corps to find their tactics completely incomprehensible; even the raiders who had slain my sister had more sense than this! These Knights were supposed to be the Empire’s elite; surely they were not simply going to stand by and allow their magus to be slain...?

The answer came as the sulfuric smoke from the first bolts dissipated, leaving the mages exposed. As our storm teams readied a second volley—it normally takes a few seconds for a cloud to be able to discharge another bolt, and one of the disadvantages of the Royal Legion potion was an even longer delay before the next bolt could be loosed—the mages dropped their shields and counterattacked with magical beams of some sort that simply bypassed our shields and struck the clouds themselves, dead center of our formations in the midst of our tightly packed troops. There was a brief crackling and sizzling sound, and we all froze, uncertain of what it meant…

But nothing happened. Our Royal Legion-era storm clouds simply absorbed the beams and sat silently, still charged and waiting to launch their deadly bolts.

Methinks the expression on the lead mage’s face was something to behold—shock, confusion… and then outright fear as two more subsequent attempts against different clouds likewise had no effect as we watched slightly dumbfounded. They hastily brought their shields back up and called for help, but this time they were caught off guard and hadn’t reinforced each other’s spells. This in turn meant that they were—to borrow their own phrase—fish in a barrel, and we now had the spears.

At Silverhawk’s next order, the second volley took down their shields easily before the startled Knights could swoop back in and launch a hasty crossbow volley at our massed force from such distance that they couldn’t hope to hit much; a few bolts deflecting off the sturdy Royal Legion shields and none causing injury. Their power faltering and their staves cracking, the suddenly but sorely endangered mages took evasive action, but not even a pegasus in a power dive could outpace a lightning bolt; two were slain by the third volley and the last mage fled as we punched open a hole through their outer cordon into the still-fighting militia base.

‘Twas only much later, after comparing notes with surviving militia troops that we learned what they were trying to do, and how close we came to death: the mages wanted us to focus their fire on them and away from the Knights, knowing that they could withstand the first volleys, drawing us in close enough that they could counterattack with their new spells that would cause pegasus storm clouds to release all their lightning at once in every direction.

Had it worked—and in fairness, as it had already succeeded spectacularly against militia forces, they had no reason to believe ‘twould not with us—our own improvised artillery would have exploded in our faces, the eruption of lightning taking out half our close-packed force at once and scattering the remainder to become easy prey of the Wind Knights, who were ready to swoop in to finish our broken formations from the flanks with steel claws and crossbow bolts once the carnage was complete. Had it worked, we would have been wiped out in under a minute; had it worked; we would have been a very bloody object lesson for other improvised forces arriving on the scene, who might have been much more hesitant to challenge the Knights. Had it worked, the gryphon cohort would have had the chance to complete their destruction of the militia base, and then depart, their mission completed.

There are countless what-ifs of war, and I learned from my own engagements never to question its whims. What saved us were that these weren’t regular storm clouds the gryphons were familiar with. They were in fact relics of the ancient past, created by the old techniques the venerated Royal Legion once used, and as it turned out… as their lightning was imparted neither naturally nor via the modern pegasus methods…

They were completely immune to the spell!

But such would only be known later. We did not understand our good fortune of what seemed like incredibly ineffectual tactics, but did not hesitate to take advantage of them as a stunned Silverhawk ordered our teams to let the final mage go and open up instead on the Knights, who looked momentarily lost, suddenly deprived of their mage support and their Centurion commander visibly uncertain what to do. His hesitation cost them as a fresh round of golden bolts crashed into their ranks, spearing at least a dozen with deadly electricity, the jagged strokes penetrating their armor and sending them spiraling or outright plummeting into the Plum River below.

To their credit, the Knights and their commander quickly shook off their shock. They realized their only chance against a full lightning battalion was to close quickly with us so at their centurion’s order they did so, charging us in dispersed, zig-zagging, decade-sized formations designed to minimize vulnerability to lightning whilst calling for additional support. A second century and another mage peeled off the siege of the militia base to assist them, but they would be late in arriving as we got in two more solid volleys at progressively closer range before the Knights got into effective crossbow range, losing another thirty soldiers to our massed storm clouds, revealing yet another unexpected benefit of the ancient Royal Legion potion:

Knight armor was enchanted against the standard military-grade storm clouds the Corps and Cloudsdale militia used, but not against the Royal Legion variety, whose lightning had different magical qualities. Their normally sturdy breastplates offered very little protection against the powerful gold-tinged bolts, which had been designed for use against the dragons that once menaced Equestria. Now reduced by half, the Knight century loosed a mixture of explosive-tipped and armor-piercing crossbows, only to find that the large Royal Legion shields I admittedly was having trouble holding aloft were proof against them; I felt several deflect off my own, limiting their damage to few narrow and very lucky shots.

The Knights closed to melee range to preclude further use of lightning... which would normally be concerning except for the fact that with their losses we now outnumbered them nearly six to one; not even their skill in close combat could overcome such an advantage. We swarmed them with everything from Royal Legion spears and short swords to personal blades and kitchen knives; I took out one Knight by diving on him with my shield, using its very weight as a weapon to to drive its sharp tip into his shoulder blades, severing his spinal cord. Blue Jay covered me as she always did, surprising another Wind Knight eagless bearing the insignia of a Decurion with her wrist-mounted PSD crossbows, which unlike me, she never stopped carrying, a small but powerful bolt penetrating the Knight’s neck armor at close range.

Nevertheless, lacking sufficient armor of our own and facing such powerful foes, we took nearly fifty casualties in close combat over the next minute, including to my great sorrow Captain Silverhawk, who directly challenged the Knight Centurion with his wingblades. Though old and overmatched, he went out in a blaze of glory and with a cry of “for Equestria!” as he sacrificed himself to slay him—I regret I did not see how he did it; I only heard his shout and then saw them both plummeting—rendering both ourselves and the Knights leaderless.

The difference was numbers and momentum, to say nothing of available reinforcements. His death only enraged us further, and seeing our success, other pegasus groups who had been hanging back to see how we would fare began joining in, first a trickle and then a steady flood as they realized that the Knights could be fought and beaten.

Strength in Numbers

Within minutes, several disjointed counterattacks all along the militia fort periphery had merged together into a mighty surge over the Plum River and onto the base itself, now over a thousand mixed civilian and military pegasi steadily driving the outnumbered and outgunned Knights back. They still had mages to be sure, and falling back on interior lines, they held the reinforcements at bay until my group reappeared, Royal Legion shields in the lead. With our strongest stallions now holding them aloft—I simply couldn’t carry it myself any longer and now wielded a short sword—we charged them in close formation, the shields doing what they did back then; forming a protective cone against magical attacks as both mage lightning and fire were deflected to their increasing consternation.

I saw one stallion drive a mage’s fire right back onto her, charging her like Flash Magus holding the great shield Netitus before a dragon, except her flame was far weaker than Dragonfire and posed little threat to him. Fighting true to ancient tactics, the squad that was surging in behind him in the shield’s protective shadow burst out right on top of her and slew her with ancient swords and spears; methinks I will never forget the shock on her face as she fell to the olden weapons.

Faced with overwhelming numbers and threats they had never imagined or prepared for, the Knights did their best—or perchance worst—against the onslaught. Even when we succeeded in isolating individual soldiers from their comrades, they fought savagely; some took down two, three, even four ponies with their swords and steel claws before succumbing to the swarming tactics of their attackers, and their good group tactics and uncanny crossbow bolt accuracy claimed at least a hundred more.

But such only went so far. Forced to split their attention, they were unable to keep the remaining militia troops pinned down, and our beleaguered soldiers finally took advantage, launching a counterattack using their remaining numbers and weapons. Finally free of mage bombardment, they used hoofilite-generated tornadoes to break up enemy formations and leave individual gryphon soldiers easy prey, taking revenge for the sneak attack and their massive casualties by reforming their phalanxes and descending on dazed Imperial troops with their own spears and shields, finally able to fight on their terms.

At that point, the conclusion ‘twas all but foregone. There is little more that need be said about this action except that within twenty minutes of our initial engagement, and perchance thirty of their first appearance, the tattered remains of the Knight cohort that had struck the militia base abandoned their attack and were fleeing Cloudsdale, recognizing further struggle was useless against the rallied militia and aroused pegasus populace. Victory was ours on the south end of the city at no little cost; nearly twelve hundred civilian and militia ponies were slain there with hundreds more wounded, most of the latter falling in the first few minutes as the Knights struck suddenly and their ability to turn militia storm clouds into deadly bombs decimated the garrison.

Songs and history have depicted this as a great triumph of pegasus civilians over Gryphon arms. But the truth is not so simple. Lest anyone think we showed the Knights to be something other than the elite soldiers they were, know that in return for the nearly sixteen hundred total casualties we suffered, including nine hundred militia lost, we only inflicted less than a third of that cost on the Knights, as a hundred and twenty of their original six centuries escaped the city. And even then, almost all their losses were directly or indirectly attributable to the Royal Legion equipment and lightning potions we had equipped ourselves with from the museum…

In effect, as Captain Firefly noted, the Royal Legion reached out from the past and the very pages of history to fight and win one final battle for Cloudsdale, and their old tactics and weaponry would yet play a role in the defense of Equestria to come.

But that lay in the future. The Battle of Cloudsdale was not over; the conflict continued on the other end of the city, where the weather factory lay and an even larger gryphon force had gathered to reduce it. Though exhausted and reeling from our losses, many of us nursing wounds, those of us who were able took flight for it immediately once the militia base was secure, for we still had some fight in us and storm clouds left…

And I had two vials of unused potion I hoped I might yet get a chance to use in a very certain way.

Thank you, Orchard Oriole. Your storytelling and hospitality are appreciated, as was the private tour you gave us of the Royal Legion Museum, which I note with satisfaction now sports an entirely new wing dedicated to the unlikely role the ancient organization played in the great battle… and the war that followed.

Though we had originally intended to conclude the battle in these latest pages, we decided that the final phase of it deserved its own chapter. Therefore, the fourth and final part of this attack—the climactic battle for the weather factory and struggle to save its workers—will be told in the next entry. I will not, however, wait to offer my own thoughts and perspective on it.

In truth, there is little in this latest chapter I did not already know, having studied the battle extensively and even made it a yearly topic of my tactical classes at the Equestrian Officer Academy. I can point out many mistakes on both sides, and make doing so an exercise for my students. And yet, methinks that ultimately the biggest lesson that can be drawn from the operation on either side is simple:

Never assume anything.

By this I mean: Never assume you can plan for or anticipate everything in a military operation; never assume something can’t or won’t happen. Equestrians made that mistake by believing the city unassailable and not taking the possibility of an attack seriously, whilst the Gryphons did not truly understand what they would be facing or have contingency plans in case their chosen tactics went awry. Their force at the militia base was only adequate to the task if nothing went wrong…

And invariably, something always does.

‘Tis a lesson that holds true for both sides, but more on that later. Before departing for Thunderbolt’s dedication, I was given a personal message by Ambassador Kaval, who told me that an eagless wished a private audience with me and Swift Strike. By her request, we ended up meeting in a secluded pub of Trottingham following a Hearth’s Warming visit there—we tend to rotate who hosts the winter holidays amongst surviving members of the Bolt Knights.

Neither of us knew why until the eagless presented herself and announced in strictest confidence that she was and remains a Raven, engaging in a blade duel with Swift Strike himself and fighting him to nearly a standstill to prove it. She went on to say she had in fact participated in the attack on Cloudsdale so many years ago, one of a fortunate few to escape with her life from there, later leading a raid on the city that succeeded in stealing samples of the Royal Legion lightning potion and shields so the Office of Owls and Magus Legion could develop new countermeasures.

Though surprised by her declaration, we were not alarmed, as the Office of Owls was disbanded and the Ravens heavily reformed following the war. Now loosely modeled after the Lances, the Ravens have become what amounts to a secret warrior society that answers directly to the Queen and highest echelons of the Kingdom’s leadership, tasked with dealing with threats to the gryphon nation that lurk in the shadows.

She was not seeking absolution for her role in the attack or war, she told us, but she had seen Thunderbolt in action that day, losing many comrades and only barely escaping death herself at his hooves, showing us a series of burn and blade scars she’d sustained in the battle. She simply wished to offer him honor on behalf of her organization due a worthy opponent; one who, in the end, almost single-hoofedly thwarted their efforts and prevented the weather factory’s total destruction.

As I’ve been seeking additional gryphon perspectives on the war, I offered her the chance to anonymously pen a passage in the next chapter, but she respectfully declined, reminding me that much like the Lances, the Ravens keep their affairs private and generally do not speak of operations past... even long past. She did, however, ask me to deliver a Raven medallion to Thunderbolt’s statue, noting he had laid their entire organization low that day, reducing their highly adept and accomplished assassins to ‘mere meatshields’ in his presence, in her own words, forcing them to find new means to fight him and address the weaknesses he revealed.

I fulfilled her request and delivered the medallion, where it now sits unmarked alongside the other military honors Thunderbolt received. No gryphons were present at the dedication, not even Gavian, as the attack on Cloudsdale remains a point of contention between the two sides to this day. Pegasi consider it a war crime for the massive and deliberate civilian casualties inflicted, whilst the surviving gryphon soldiers believe the attack was justified given the city’s role in Equestrian weather control; that as such the weather factory workers as well as the facilities were valid targets and the subsequent uprising of the city populace left them no choice but to strike down soldier and civilian alike. They also consider Thunderbolt a murderer and outright war criminal in return, and not without reason given his penchant for taking no prisoners and oft-appalling willingness to kill noncombatants.

For myself, though I certainly understand the strong feelings at play, I must side with the Imperials in regards to the attack. I would start by noting that Equestrian hooves were far from clean with regards to civilian casualties in this war. The uncomfortable truth is that we committed more than a few atrocities of our own both during the conflict and even preceding it, going all the way back to the prewar Phoenix Fire operation where hundreds of Imperial civilians died and countless more were wounded in the indiscriminate attacks on Altair and Rial.

Indeed, Looking at it from a purely military perspective, the Empire’s only real chance to strike the city with any chance of success was on the first day of the war, when ‘twas closest to the border and not yet reinforced. Had they waited even one more day, the militia would have been fully mobilized by the Gryphon war declaration and the Corps presence at Cloudsdale quadrupled as per existing war plans, making even an attack by a full Knight legion unlikely to succeed against an alerted and prepared city mustering a defending force six thousand strong—four times what they actually faced.

Had their attack failed to knock out the weather factory, ‘tis certain their invasion faced a far greater chance of failure in the face of ramped-up storm cloud production and superstorm strikes against troop concentrations, cities and supply bases—indeed, readers of the original volume will recall that Princess Celestia herself threatened them with such strikes prewar.

At the end of the day, I cannot condemn the attack simply because I recognize the difficulties involved in planning it, and how critical ‘twas to the Imperial war effort. Further, though the Cloudsdale populace was unquestionably heroic in rising up to defend their city, once they did so, they became combatants and lost any and all right to be spared. I honor their bravery and sacrifice, but cannot and will not condemn the gryphons for their deaths. So the only remaining point of contention for me regarding this operation is: were the workers at the factory valid targets, as the gryphons claimed?

You wouldst forgive me, loyal readers, if I must reluctantly say yes given how easily the entire facility could have been converted to storm cloud production and how little retraining the average worker would have needed to make them. The Imperial military did what they must to knock out the factory and ensure ‘twould stay that way, and in the end, I recognize its necessity to their side.

In the end, I blame not so much the Gryphons for the carnage as the endless antipathy between our two sides that led us to this day; the inevitable result of two races who simply refused to understand each other or see things from the other’s point of view. And that is what I now ask of you, dear reader; that in studying these accounts, you attempt to see both sides of this battle and thus the greater war, and understand that nothing in war—particularly this war—is ever as black and white or good-versus-evil as the stories and songs may portray.

God fights on the side with the best artillery. –Napoleon Bonaparte

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the delay; this one was a long time coming. I was trapped in writer’s block for the longest time with this, not knowing how Clousdale civilians, even if they were Corps veterans, could fight back effectively against the Knights and how they could win with other than basically a Zerg rush, which is very unimaginative and the author’s last resort when he writes himself into a corner. The breakthrough was when I was thinking about what Oriole would be doing nowadays--flight instructor or weather factory worker was too cliche, and something like a cook or florist didn’t seem to suit her. I then came up with, maybe she’s a museum worker. But what kind of museum? Pegasi like their history, especially their marital history, so that’s when the Royal Legion from this latest season popped into mind.

And that in turn is where the idea came from for them to use Royal Legion equipment when the gryphons invaded. They’re working at a museum, so of course they’d grab the old weapons and shields, and everything went from there. I went from writing only 3000 words in a month to the remaining 8000 words in less than a week. Funny how that works, right?

It’s to your benefit, however. I regret I was not able to get new battle maps finished for this, so I’m pushing this out now to keep my promise of a Sunday morning release, though a few hours later than I meant. Had to get in one last preread and run it through Grammarly as well, and then I accidentally copied over part 7 instead of making part 8, so I had to rebuild part 7 completely. Speaking of part 7, I tweaked the ending such that Thunderbolt took less apparent damage but was still tiring. I know people are complaining that he’s too strong, and to that I say, the opening section of this chapter should show he’s not invincible as the second wave of gryphons dealt with him quite brilliantly.

Thanks as always go to Denim_Blue, Silentwoodfire, AJ_Aficionado and Leo Archon for the prereads and feedback, and they were also batting around ideas for side chapters by themselves as guest authors in the google doc comments. I would love for them to do so! The story is a compilation of many different points of view, so why shouldn’t it be a collaboration of multiple authors as well? Be looking for guest chapters centered on new or different characters as we go forward.

Part 9 - Retaliation

As much as I wish otherwise, ‘tis simply impossible for me to detail all the actions, all the engagements, and all the individual battles that occurred on the first day of the invasion, let alone the entire war.

I can only describe with clarity the ones I myself participated in, and I fear that despite my best efforts it does a grave disservice to all the soldiers who fought and died that day. The desperate first-day defenses of Corps Outposts Alpha, Beta, and Delta, as well as Army bases Red to Blue and the border towns they protected are unsung and unknown; with but one well-known exception, none survived to tell the tale of what happened to them.

Many are the times I wonder even now if we at Outpost Epsilon were better, or just luckier, for regardless of our skill we should still have been among them. The story of how we survived is yet to be told, but perchance there is one part and one individual who should be mentioned now.

Watchtower
Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon border
September 1st, 1139 AC
1430 hours

The news of Gamma’s counterstrike and that we were now planning one of our own was an instant morale boost to my beleaguered troops.

Flight Sergeant Osprey, Master Sergeant Fell Flight, and First Sergeant Still Way were just starting to hash out the rough outlines of our spoiling attack along with me and Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt, the leader of our lightning teams, when my red command gem buzzed. Judging by the tone, it belonged to my fourth platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Snow Squall, who was currently patrolling the Outpost perimeter at a five-mile radius.

“Firefly here. What is it, sir?” I asked into the ruby crystal, though the ‘sir’ was simply a courtesy to his officer bars. Though he outranked me, and indeed was supposed to replace me, I had not been relieved yet, and by the Corps chain of command, as base commander I held authority over all that were assigned to it regardless of rank.

“Ma’am, methinks you won’t believe this, but… we’ve found another Guardspony.”

Sole Survivor

I exchanged looks with an equally surprised Still Way at that. “Please repeat, Lieutenant? Another Guardspony?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s wounded and exhausted, but he slipped in between Talon patrols. I don’t know where he came from because he’s in such shock ‘tis hard to get much out of him. He doesn’t answer questions; he just keeps asking for you personally, ma’am,” he told me, causing me to exchange another glance with Still Way. “I’m dispatching a flight to bring him to the infirmary now. No other activity to report. The gryphons are scouting, but still not pressing.”

I could only hope they stayed that way a bit longer; if they attacked again too soon we would lose all chance to hit them first. “Understood, Lieutenant. Whoever he is, tell him I’ll meet him there. Continue your patrol and recall your flight as soon as possible. I don’t want you out there understrength.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am. Snow Squall out,” he acknowledged whilst I left my staff to work out the details of the strike and flew out from the watchtower to the infirmary, wanting to find out who this mystery Guardspony was who knew me. I arrived there to find Gavian helping treat the injured whilst Swift Strike watched over him even as he interrogated the few live prisoners we’d captured; ones that were too badly wounded to take their own lives.

Methinks our healer team was as efficient as treating as they were at killing (a compliment ‘tis certain they would not be pleased to hear given they were reluctant warriors to begin with!), though they kept their longbows close at hoof whilst they tended their patients, lightweight unicorn blades given to them by Still Way on their belts along with various bandages and other tools of the medical trade. They had already been told to expect a new casualty and were rapidly clearing a space for him; they had just finished when he arrived, leaning heavily on his escorts, trembling and looking on the verge of collapse.

He was a mess, and ‘tis to my great shame to say I didn’t recognize him at first. He was young, looking barely out of basic, yet he already wore the stripes of a Guardspony Sergeant—which, in hindsight, was part of what threw me; he’d advanced in rank since I last saw him. His Corps-issue wingblades were bloodstained, his armor was badly battered and even partially penetrated at multiple points by blades and crossbow bolts. At least two of the latter were still impaled in him; I didn’t even want to think of how much damage he’d taken for as much of his own blood, some fresh and some dried, was covering him.

It only got worse the longer I stared at him. His helmet was partially bashed in on one side and when I looked closely, I realized there was a broken-off end of a third crossbow bolt lodged in his upper foreleg, causing his visibly broken front left leg to hang limply within a crude sling that appeared to be fashioned from the torn-up pieces of a Corps combat uniform. Meanwhile, the side of his face had been slashed by steel claws and his right hind leg was scorched by Magus Knight fire, some of his fur seared completely off to reveal burned and blackened skin beneath. He also appeared to have been knocked into the ground by the canyon river once or twice judging by the caked sand and mud on his left side and belly.

In visible shock, his eyes were glazed and fixed straight ahead. He didn’t speak or seem aware of his surroundings but obeyed instructions; with effort, he made it to the table on three legs and collapsed there as the healers quickly attended him, stripping his armor and treating his myriad injuries as I waited patiently. ‘Twas only when his helmet was removed and I saw his full face that I realized who he was, and my jaw dropped open to see him.

“Sky Sentry?” I gaped at him, recognizing a graduate of the Armored Guardspony class that had followed mine; a promising young pegasus stallion I’d later fought a friendly duel with. “How did you get here?” He’d been assigned to Outpost Delta, I remembered, and that meant he must have flown from there all the way to Epsilon in that state; a distance of one hundred twenty miles!

At the sound of my voice, he turned his head weakly to face me. “S-Sergeant F-Firefly…?” he finally managed in a weak and shaky voice, staring at me in wonder and then reaching his good hoof out for me like he wasn’t sure I was real or if he was still alive. “D-didn’t know if… Epsilon was still st-standing. Th-thought you might all be d-dead…”

“I’m here, Sergeant.” I quickly took his hoof as a healer took advantage of his distraction to reset his arm bone with a sharp but mercifully short crack!, causing him to grit his teeth and hiss hard, then lie back in relief again, looking straight up into the ceiling as healing magic was applied and his many wounds were tended. He’d expressed a certain interest in me before, perhaps the first stallion ever to, and the terms of the duel we’d fought were that I would allow him to indulge that interest if he won and put in for his transfer to Epsilon. I’d won the duel instead, for which he’d bought me and my sister dinner. But I’d taken a instant liking of my own to him in the process, and ‘twould be a lie to say there weren’t times I didn’t at least mildly regret losing. “You’re safe now, and you’re going to be fine. My healers will take good care of you. But why didst you come here?”

“I... I...” He looked like he was fighting his own memories for a moment. “I d-didn’t know where else to g-go after...” His lip was beginning to quiver.

“Sergeant?” I tried again, feeling a deep pit forming in my stomach as I guessed the answer to my next question even before I asked it. “What happened to Outpost Delta?”

He didn’t look at or answer me except for the tears that began streaming down his cheeks.

And so another mighty warrior stands revealed. Let all who read this on both former sides know that Sky Sentry was a magnificent fighter, one of the finest I ever was privileged to meet in mortal combat. He was a stallion who battled with aplomb and abandon no matter what the odds, fighting valiantly for all that he held dear… which I daresay did include you, Captain.

But that story is not mine to know or tell. Though the first’s day’s operations were by then generally going well, especially considering we had been forced to launch it on such short notice, some threats to our advance were still apparent, including a major one mounting right under our collective wings.

Imminent Action

Imperial HQ bunker
Raptor Base
Opposite Outpost Gamma
September 1st, 1139 AC
1445 hours

Raptor Base was in an uproar.

Word had reached us of an unexpected strike from the combined Millennium-sized Equestrian Army/Aerial Corps garrison at Gamma, which had surprised one of our staging areas and wrecked it with the loss of nearly an entire Talon cohort, killing its commander and crushing its rank-and-file.

We had thought the Gamma garrison was pinned, but it turned out we weren’t the only ones who had tunnels—Captain Sirocco, the accomplished and aggressive commander of the Equestrian Aerial Corps 5th Division, had secretly dug a few of her own over the years for just this occasion and they’d worked with deadly effect—half her forces burst out of the ground right on top of one of our assembly areas, decimating its resting Talons with storm clouds and a rain of unicorn arrows before overrunning the remainder with Earth Pony troops, who destroyed the barely-established base and slaughtered its defenders before quickly withdrawing back into their tunnels before reinforcements could reach them.

It had been a very well-planned and conceived operation, over in less than five minutes, and worse, there were also reports that Gamma pegasi were ambushing our airborne patrols via the same method, bursting out of the ground beneath our low-flying troops to inflict dozens more casualties and forcing the Talons to not patrol in any size formation smaller than a century. Magus Knights had found and caved in the tunnels they used quickly, and the Diamond Dogs had promised they would search for and destroy any others, but the damage was done; we were forced to commit more forces to the siege of Gamma and keep our troops on constant alert were they to try that trick again.

“’Twould appear, my friend, that I did not give Sirocco enough credit…” A glowering Gaius noted to me once he had issued additional orders and we were alone. “I knew she was capable of a counterstrike, but I did not foresee her methods or that she would attack so soon.”

“We had no intelligence that she had tunnels of her own, my lord,” I offered a defense. “‘Twould seem a major oversight on the part of the Owls.”

His eyes narrowed at that. His opinion of the Office of Owls—and my own—had been markedly lowered of late, as we learned that they had kept secret the theft of our war plans right out of the Citadel’s war room in our Imperial capital of Mosclaw for weeks. Worse, they had then covered up their own massive failure of security by attempting to stop the shapeshifting thief behind it with Ravens alone, not informing us of their pursuit until it was too late for us to assist.

The assassins had given chase and by at least one report wounded their quarry, but ultimately failed in their task to stop the Changeling spy before it reached the border. We did not then know the final fate of the creature or its pursuers, but having lost contact with them, we had no choice but to assume (correctly) that our war plans had been delivered to Equestria and, faced with a potentially disastrous loss of surprise, launch the invasion seven weeks early with barely half our intended forces in place.

Still, tempted though he was to blame them, he did not. “Intelligence or no, I fear our blindness to pony military acumen has raised its head again, my friend. We keep thinking that we alone can come up with good tactics or strategies. Once again, the lie of that conceit has been proven,” he growled, his tail twitching as he tapped his talons on the stone table. “And thus, we are now forced to assault Gamma sooner rather than later, lest she tie up too many of our Talons in the siege.”

‘Twas at that moment that Livia Cassius Junius, ever one to tweak her rival, chose to enter. “I have read the reports. Another cohort crushed, I see. So then… still think not striking Gamma at dawn was the proper course of action, Prelate?” the Primarch of Paladins all but sneered. “Perchance we would have suffered high casualties, but they would hardly have had soldiers left to spare for ambushing us later.”

“They could just as easily have used those tunnels to blindside any attacking force, Primarch,” Gaius retorted, though a note of annoyance in his voice told me a nerve had been touched. “Hard as it may be to believe, the ponies do have good soldiers and the mind and will to use them. You may be assured they will fight and find ways to sting us. What will define the success or failure of this campaign is how quickly both sides adapt to the tactics of the other,” he told her. “‘Tis true they destroyed one of ten cohorts belonging to the 30th legion. A notable loss, but not a crippling one. They have exposed their tactic, and now that we are aware of it, it will not work again!” he pledged.

The lie of that statement was given almost instantly when there was the sound of an explosion down the tunnels, shaking the ceiling and causing a small amount of dirt and dust to rain down. Though we knew the Diamond Dog tunnels were sturdy, we couldn’t help but momentarily fear a collapse, but we soon had other things to worry about as intrusion alarms sounded throughout the complex, announcing that impossibly, the Gamma garrison had somehow found our bunker and broken in.

Despite the danger, I couldn’t help but smile as my senses instantly flared into fighting readiness, drawing one of my two swords and taking a combat stance, shifting to guard the entrance to the Prelate’s office. For ‘twas then I knew my fondest and deepest wish was about to be granted…

That I would indeed be seeing combat in the campaign.

And I pity those who were unfortunate enough to face you, Ambassador, and look forward to hearing your account of the action in the next chapter, of which our own reports were but fragmentary.

But before we can return to Raptor and Epsilon, we must finish the fight at Cloudsdale, which by now was just reaching its climactic phase. The Gryphon Knights had been driven off from the militia base, but a second, larger force of Knights and Ravens were still trying to destroy the weather factory.

For all of Thunderbolt’s heroics that day, the most notable of which have yet to be shown, methinks his one critical act was not the heavy losses he inflicted or even the hundreds he initially saved. As will soon become apparent, he cost the gryphons the one thing they had least to spare in this operation…

Time.

Perchance you are correct, Captain, but ‘twas a double-edged sword. For time worked against us as well as we struggled to next save the weather factory after first defeating the Knight attack on the militia base. We were exhausted and reeling from our losses after the first fight, but we knew we could not quit now; not so long as the weather factory was still endangered and our friends and families there still under threat. So once the militia base was secure, we spared but a few minutes to rest and lick our wounds, those of us still able and willing to fight hastily reorganizing ourselves for additional action before taking flight for the other end of the city once more.

Cloudsdale
Two miles southeast of Weather Factory
September 1st, 1139 AC
1325 hours

Retaliation

We flew along, heading for the fires and fighting we’d spotted in the distance, once more joined along the way by dozens of additional civilians wanting to fight but seeking strength in numbers.

There were well over a thousand of us as we neared the other end of Cloudsdale, a mixed civilian/military force now placed under the command of the senior surviving militia officer, with three hundred militia ponies at our core—all that was left of the twelve hundred on-duty soldiers they’d started the morning with after the Knights had gotten through with them. They could have given up, but they did not—incensed at their losses and the sneak attack they’d suffered, they were determined to fulfill their stated duty to defend Cloudsdale and show the Gryphons that they were not to be taken lightly. And having formed three century-sized phalanxes to fight with and now properly supported and backed by storm clouds, ‘twas certain they could do some serious damage to the Knight formations despite their archaic tactics.

Especially given those tactics were now enhanced by equipment of yore. Seeing how effective the Royal Legion shields were, the militia forces were now using them at my suggestion, placing one in the possession of their leader at the apex of their cone-shaped phalanxes, stretching out their formations so that all soldiers in it would remain within its protective shadow, safe from Magus if not from crossbow attack. This would, in theory, allow them to approach enemy formations with their mass of soldiers intact and grind up any Knight unfortunate enough to be caught within their spear-studded net.

Meanwhile, I was now commanding an entire company, which ‘twas a post to which I’d never ascended in the Corps. My force consisted of mostly civilians led by those retired or off-duty Corps and militia veterans amongst us, commanding squads and platoons and now armed with purloined Knight blades in addition to the ones we’d brought with us. We’d likewise stripped some of their armor and helmets off bodies that hadn’t fallen through the clouds, sparing the Royal Legion armor for our stallions whilst we added Knight pauldrons and foreleg protection to our own protective ensembles; their chestplates and other armor being too large, heavy, or simply too ill-fitting for most of us to wear.

‘Twas even more remarkable now that I look back on it, that all of us, whether militia or civilian, were still willing to fight despite the extreme losses we suffered. But whether it was due to pegasus warrior heritage or simply the fear of losing our friends and family, our fighting blood was collectively up, and we reacted to the presence of the gryphons invading our ancestral home as a swarm of hornets, or better yet, flash bees would defending their nests. Except the electric sting we could generate was far more powerful and lethal…

And better yet, as we had the first inklings by then, our storm cloud ‘stingers’ were completely immune to their counterspells.

As we neared, we found that other improvised civilian forces had already attempted to engage the Knights and break their cordon around the Weather Factory and the Corps base at Fort Tempest, but, as might have been the case with us at the Militia base were it not for the presence of our Royal Legion shield and storm clouds, they had been enveloped and annihilated, leaving scores dead and hundreds more pegasi outside their perimeter patrols unable to break inside.

The gryphon numbers were greater than those at the militia base, but we were beyond caring, especially as we saw the first evidence of the worker massacres that had occurred inside, seeing destroyed buildings and grey-dyed Ravens flitting here and there to hunt down any hiding survivors.

The Knights reacted with some visible consternation as they saw our large and well-organized formation approach, immediately summoning several additional centuries of their own as reinforcements. Knowing they were on the way, we didn’t waste time replying to their Magus’ shouted orders to not approach them, the militia commander immediately directing our twenty storm teams, several now crewed by more experienced militia soldiers with better aim, into three separate batteries, one in the center and one on each flank, intending to bracket the growing Knight formation and punch a hole right through the middle of their massed airborne forces. Our storm teams assembled for action under the protection of militia and Royal Legion shields, an entire militia phalanx and several improvised civilian platoons further guarding each.

Word had apparently not reached the Knights on this side of the city that their anti-cloud spells were ineffective, as they attempted to duplicate their earlier tactics against us. And this time we allowed them to do it, even daring them to as we pushed our formations close to the clouds to more effectively cover them with our shields, meaning if that if their spells did work, we’d all be killed at once.

‘Twas a lure, and one methinks was worthy of any predator as they drew closer in anticipation of slaying us with our own storm clouds. With a smug voice informing us that we would die unless we withdrew, their sub-Tribune commander waited but half a minute more before ordering her mages to open up on us whilst we all simply waited, now wearing smug looks of our own, knowing and eagerly anticipating the reversal of fortune we were about to inflict.

And thus, when, their magical beams impacted the clouds with nothing more than a weak sizzling sound, our retaliation came instantly in the form of a massed twenty-bolt volley that crashed into their ordered ranks and shattered them, hard on the heels of which came the militia troops under the protective fire of additional volleys that kept the gryphons from massing to meet the attack or otherwise reacting effectively. The looser and more extended militia formations dropped several dozen Knights on their first pass, taking only a few casualties of their own, and none from Magus fire as the Royal Legion shields at their apex proved very effective at deflecting violet-tinged magus lightning and orange gouts of fire.

With the lightning-and-shield protected militia leading the way and showing surprising effectiveness against the elite Gryphon warriors for now having proper equipment and support, we broke through the Knights onto the grounds of the weather factory and immediately fanned out, two centuries of militia troops supported by the bulk of our storm teams heading to the relief of the besieged Corps battalion at Fort Tempest whilst the third century and five storm clouds made for the central grounds, heading towards an area the Ravens and Knights were circling like vultures…

At the center of which was a single pony trapped within three shield spells into which a fourth mage was pouring fire.

Thank you, Orchard Oriole. ‘Twas good to meet you for the first time and be able to swap war stories and other tales with you following the commemoration. ‘Twas even better to finally be able to learn the identity of the one in large measure responsible for our rescue, through your Royal Legion gear and suggested tactics.

I would invite you for a personal tour of the Storm Cloud Factory in return for the one you gave us of the museum, so that you may see the ongoing influence the Royal Legion cloud potion has had on us going forward. I also invite you and your family to have dinner with mine, as repayment for your hospitality and battles past.

Until then, ‘tis time for me to finish my own tale of this battle, painful though ‘tis to remember. But for the sake of history and my sister, and in honor of Thunderbolt and those who fell there, I will continue.

Inside the damaged Rainbow Factory, we were unaware of the approach of a potential relief force as we hurriedly continued to barricade every possible entrance we could.

Methinks I had all but given up on life at that point, settling into my role of soldier with surprising ease and no longer noticing or caring about all the dead bodies around me, some of which were my own friends. It scared me how readily I was now ignoring the carnage and how willing I suddenly was to kill, but either due to Thunderbolt’s talk or a desperate desire to live up to the example of my big sister, I brandished a blade and stationed my squad to ambush whoever came through the entrance first as Thunderbolt’s one-winged friend Virga set up a kill zone in the building lobby. ‘Twould do us little good if they simply decided to have their mages rain death on us from above, but in that case, Virga’s orders were to guard a shrinking perimeter whilst others dug their way out through a hole in the floor into the city cloudbase and hid in an improvised bunker beneath the building he had the younger stallions excavating.

‘Twas unlikely we would survive that long if they started burning or blasting us out, but we didn’t question it. Indeed, he didn’t explain, and he didn’t have to; he was doing what any mare would in his place: trying to ensure the youngest males lived, even at the expense of the rest of us.

Virga himself clearly intended to die with us, refusing all pleas to leave, saying he was never going to have foals anyway after all that happened to him; that he would die now as he should have died with Thunderbolt and their promised mares at the Inland Shores settlements. He wielded a Raven sword in his mouth as he stood between two of our remaining three storm clouds positioned to bracket the front entrances, ready to direct what was certain to be our final stand. We assumed Thunderbolt was already dead at that point and we would follow shortly, until we heard a fresh series of crashing booms—volleyed lightning fire!—followed by the sounds of battle getting steadily closer again. We chanced a look out to see…

Well. Methinks mere words cannot do it justice, either the sight, or the emotions it brought. So I will simply say that what we beheld was no more and no less than...

Salvation.

You are very welcome, Morning Glory, and ‘twas good to meet you as well. I believe I will take you up on your offer sooner rather than later, and offer your family dinner in return with my own.

Whilst assembling our forces outside the base perimeter to breach the Knight formations with lightning, our commander, Synta Spring Wind of the Cloudsdale militia (‘Synta’ being a militia rank roughly equivalent to a Corps Sky Sergeant), elected to divide our forces, something I thought he was foalish to do. Our potency and potential threat to the Gryphon Knights was in our mass, I felt, much as it had been back at the militia base when we overwhelmed them with our improvised artillery, ancient shields and sheer numbers, compensating for their greater skill at battle. We also weren’t facing Ravens then, whose skill at close combat and propensity for surprise strikes was legendary.

Nevertheless, he did so upon seeing the secondary action near the Rainbow Factory, guessing it was a major and ongoing point of pegasus resistance for the gryphons to have committed an entire Knight century and at least four Magi to the effort.

As we neared, we were as surprised as anypony to see they were seemingly focused on but one figure, whose identity became clear as we got closer—the legendary Lieutenant Thunderbolt! The hero of Phoenix Fire (or so we then believed), his skill in battle was said to be amazing, and suddenly it made more sense why the gryphons were focusing so much force and effort on him if he was responsible for all the dead Knight and Raven bodies apparent on roofs and non-cloud surfaces. The Knight century spotted us in some alarm and shifted to fight us as they saw at least three times their number winging in with a fully formed cone-shaped militia phalanx at its core, two of the mages turning their attention on us whilst the other two maintained their efforts against Thunderbolt himself.

With word received that our clouds were immune to Magus spellcasting, the Knights wasted little time in opening up on us with lightning and crossbows firing explosive bolts, trying to disrupt the approaching phalanx. But the militia’s loosened formation and the cover of their Royal Legion shields minimized their casualties, deflecting spellcasting and keeping their greater mass of their century-sized formation intact as they plunged right towards Thunderbolt whilst our storm teams covered them, which were in turn protected by my company of civilians.

‘Twas then a series of crossbow bolts impacted our formation from below, causing several of our number to fall from the sky with a series of pained cries. I looked down to see… three teams of Ravens rising to meet us, seeing easy targets of untrained civilians wielding improvised weapons. The ‘gunner’ of a cloud we were guarding was hit, so I had Blue Jay take over, as she, like me, had served time on a storm team whilst in the Corps. We knew weather combat well, so I immediately ordered all those who knew how to alter their clouds to fire a ‘scattershot’ bolt, which means a bolt that quickly splits and splits again many times into multiple forks, branching out into a broad cone.

‘Twas an excellent close combat weapon and a means for storm teams to fend off swarming attacks from enemy infantry, but ‘twas also only good at short range as the spreading sparks attenuated at any real distance. I waited until they were within twenty yards despite the pleas of my company to fire, and only gave the order to strike when most of the Ravens could be caught in the net.

Lacking the armor of the Knights, they were all caught by the net of forked bolts, and whilst not all of the strikes were lethal hits, the electric shock stunned many of them long enough to fall to the cloudbase below. One unlucky Raven was struck at the base of the left wing, the appendage nearly shorn off; she screeched in dismay as she fell, likely to her demise. Having no protection against such an attack, the remaining Ravens tried to swoop around us to take us from the rear only to find that we didn’t have to turn the clouds around to fire them in a different direction; we just had to dart behind them again. After suffering another decade or more of casualties due to lack of armor or countermeasures, their remaining numbers retreated to sniping with crossbow bolts, unable to approach.

‘Twas just as well, as we were down to our final bolts, and I didn’t have time to add more lightning potion to them.

In the meantime, though down a third of their force due to accurate Knight crossbow fire and slashing sword attacks from their squad-sized decade units—to their credit, the militia troops were well-trained in their tactics and simply closed up their forces around their losses, rearward troops moving up to fill the gaps—the phalanx reached the first mage and his dozen protectors trying to keep a choking Thunderbolt caged, forcing him to abandon his effort and see to his own safety, casting a shield spell around himself as the militia crashed in, chewing up the Knights within their ranks though they took an equal number of casualties to do it. They succeeded in bringing down the first mage with the Royal Legion shield, which the Gryphons learned then could not only deflect but also disrupt magical auras, collapsing his shield on contact and rendering him vulnerable to spears and wingblades.

It should be noted that here at the start of the war, the non-Magus Knights were excellent fighters in possession of superb weapons and armor, but the Magus themselves, once you got past their magical tricks, were not, armed with only a short sword and a cloak meant to deflect unicorn curses, not blades. ‘Twas a weakness of theirs that ‘twould not be addressed quickly, and we took full advantage; with only a few bolts left I spent them all on the second magus, forcing her to pull back and release a badly weakened Thunderbolt, who fell half-dead to the cloudbase below, gasping for air.

We had freed him and crippled another Knight century as well as taking out another score of Ravens, but to what end? Our clouds were spent, and as still more troops gathered against us as the gryphons either finished off the Fort and its Corps defenders or simply abandoned their siege of it, shifting their forces to counter the two-pronged attack they were then facing, I wasn’t sure I had enough time to reload our clouds. I could only hope they didn’t realize that as I pulled out the two lightning potion vials in my possession and passed one to Blue Jay, hoping for just another minute. But as the Knights gained the upper hand on the militia troops who freed Thunderbolt, who was still too weak to fight, it dawned on them that our fire had stopped. ‘Twas then they realized we were defenseless and began to streak in to crush us…

But they never made it to us, oblivious to the threat closing on them from directly overhead until it was too late.

Indeed, old friend, and we in the Rainbow Factory were all but delirious with joy to see it.

This is Virga Veil, and before I describe the events to follow, Methinks there is something worth mentioning. For those who are unaware of the connection, Thunderbolt knew Windshear, as they served together at Outpost Beta before the IS-2 incident, and they did remain friends afterwards. As I also served there, I knew him as well, and though he was certainly a magnificent soldier in his own right, ‘tis certain that not even he could have fought as brilliantly or as savagely as Thunderbolt did this day.

By an odd quirk of fate, Windshear did not participate in the Phoenix Fire operation, as he was ordered to stay behind and assume command of Beta whilst the operation was ongoing, guarding the border against potential gryphon retaliation. ‘Twas supposed to be but a temporary post, but one he stayed in for a year afterwards before moving on to train Corps recruits at Fort Stratus.

My memory remains poor of most things prior to IS-2, but one thing I do recall clearly was that Windshear oft said that tricks of battlefield fate like that one decided who would win or lose, live or die. Such it was for both us and the gryphons that day, as it took a confluence of fortuitous events and timing for us to live and the Gryphon raid to be driven off.

Case in point, I couldn’t believe our luck as not one, but two relief forces reached us within minutes of each other, trapping the gryphons between the proverbial gale and a hailstorm, forcing them to face two equal threats at once and into a fight that in the end, they could not possibly win.

Out of the Sun

As Morning Glory has stated, I was ready to die, and was indeed awaiting it, certain that despite all we had already accomplished and as many minor battles as we had already won, we simply could not survive much longer. Thunderbolt was gone, ‘twas certain in my mind, and I would now follow him, deciding I could rest in peace knowing we had done our duty to Equestria.

‘Twas an oddly serene feeling, I found. After having wondered for so long why I had survived that terrible day, on this day, I finally found an answer, and for it, I was ready to die if it meant saving at least some of our stallions and other workers; inflicting as many losses on our hated foe as I could.

‘Twas an acceptance I had only then arrived that as our last thin threads of hope were cut. Those hopes had risen with the coming of the militia-led relief force, spiking hard as they inflicted significant losses and even saved Thunderbolt, but fell again quickly afterwards. Thunderbolt was now in no shape to fight, Knight numbers were simply too great and the militia clouds, whatever their nature (methinks I had no idea what sorcery had been used that they were firing gold-colored bolts!), simply couldn’t sustain their fire forever. In the Corps, each storm team would have a ‘runner’ that would retrieve fresh clouds from supply as one was being used up, but here, that wasn’t an option.

I was actively considering dashing out to pull Thunderbolt back inside, Ravens be damned, hoping our meager medical supplies might revive him. But I quickly realized that would be suicidal as the Knights regained the upper hoof and began to grind down the invading force. They were suddenly swarming all over the weather factory where before it had just been a few plus the Ravens; they’d clearly been released from the siege of Fort Tempest to fight. And fight they did, moving to envelop the invading civilian and militia formations with their superior weapons and soldiers, determined to finish the job in spite of their losses. They were well-trained warriors, and our fate once again seemed sealed…

Until many hundreds of blue-uniformed figures with gleaming blades dove right out of the midday sun on them, blindsiding them in a classic Corps tactic, dropping nearly two centuries of elite Gryphon soldiers in mere seconds! We did not know it then, but ‘twas a reinforcing brigade from the Aerial Corps 1st Division, six hundred soldiers dispatched to Cloudsdale from Outposts Mu and Nu with all deliberate speed by Princess Celestia herself. To them—and to her—we owe our lives as they took the Knights completely by surprise and threw them into disorder, their slashing wingblades and hit-and-run, 4-on-1 tactics as per standard Corps combat doctrine decimating their centuries in a matter of moments.

A ragged cheer went up from my defending forces as for the first time, we thought we might yet live, and this time, I did dispatch several volunteers to dash out and bring Thunderbolt back. But ‘twasn’t necessary as the Corps commander recognized our still-standing building as an improvised command center and flew down to present himself, entering and asking who was in charge, removing his helmet to reveal…

“Rolling Thunder!” I exclaimed, reflexively saluting my former drill sergeant during basic training at Fort Stratus so many years earlier as he dispatched a hundred soldiers to secure the grounds, and a squad brought Thunderbolt and several other wounded back with them, swiftly and efficiently establishing a perimeter under his direction. A thirty-year Corps veteran, back then, he’d been but an SFC, but now wore the stripes of a Sergeant Major; last I’d heard he was the ranking trainer at Fort Stratus, having turned down an appointment to the Equestrian Officer Academy on several occasions to remain at the Fort doing what he loved.

A slightly portly but still-potent dark grey pegasus stallion with a graying mane of close-cropped pale blue hair—woe to the many raw recruits who tried to challenge him over the years for being slightly overweight only to find out quickly how well he could actually fight!—he turned to me and returned the salute with the same smirk he often wore whilst berating Corps recruits during basic. “Trainee Virga,” he instantly recognized me, as he had an uncanny ability to recall every pony he’d ever taught in a quarter-century at Fort Stratus, as well as all their shortcomings. “I’d ask how in Celestia’s name you could possibly be working at the weather factory given how poor you were at weather work back in basic, but methinks such questions can wait. We have a battle to fight here,” he told me as Thunderbolt was carried in by a full flight of Corps mares and lowered gently to the floor. He threw off the helping hooves and struggled to his own, saw Rolling Thunder, and then saluted in genuine surprise and respect.

“Sir!” he offered through a coughing fit, his bloodlust momentarily forgotten to my great relief. “Methinks I never thought I would be so glad to see you, sir!”

“And methinks you bore the officer rank, not me, Trainee!” he said like he was back in basic correcting a recruit, but still returned the gesture. “I would have hoped you got better at proper address of superiors than you were then!”

For one of the few times I’d known him, Thunderbolt looked chagrined. “My apologies, Sergeant Major,” he said, finally allowing Corps medics to attend him, fresh air and healing balms quickly reviving him. “But… why are you here and not at Fort Stratus, sir?” Like me, he simply couldn’t get out of the habit of calling our old Drill Sergeant by the officer honorific.

This time, Rolling Thunder let it go. “I was giving a training seminar at Outpost Mu when news of the invasion came followed by orders from Canterlot to rush reinforcements to Cloudsdale. The base commander was absent, so as ranking pony, I led the force. ‘Twould seem we arrived in the nick of time,” he commented, turning toward the shattered windows to observe the continuing action; his soldiers making the most of their temporary advantage to even up the numbers of the two sides before the gryphons could reform their ranks. “So what’s our situation?”

We told him shortly as several militia officers and two civilian mares wearing old-style Royal Legion helmets along with Gryphon Knight pauldrons and foreleg vambraces were brought in, both of whom started upon seeing Thunderbolt and myself.

I knew I’d seen them before but couldn’t remember their names, even cued by their colors. Thunderbolt, however, did. “Orchard! BJ!” he recognized the herd mares of our old comrade Windshear, who’d introduced them to us at the Summer Sun Celebration military ball mere months before the IS-2 incident.

To little surprise, Rolling Thunder instantly recognized them as well. “Trainees Oriole and Blue Jay,” he acknowledged them to their surprise, causing the orange and blue mares to instantly stand at rigid attention and salute even though they were over two decades removed from their Corps service. “Why am I not surprised you’re in the middle of this? Methinks the only thing you two excelled at was troublemaking. Still think sneaking in to my office and putting ink on my spyglass back in basic was a good idea?” He all but growled as he gave them a mock glower, causing the pair to reflexively cringe… and me as well, scarcely able to imagine what punishment he’d given them and their now-dead sister Cardinal after.

Blue Jay spoke for both of them. “We will perform as many wing-ups and wind sprints as you wish, sir… after we’ve won this battle!” The pair went on to explain how they’d come to be there and how they’d beaten the Knights at the militia base, and then used the same tactics to bloody the gryphons badly here at the weather factory.

“The Royal Legion…” Rolling Thunder shook his head and chuckled, and I couldn’t help but do the same, amazed that their ancient weapons and tactics could be useful once again. “We couldn’t bring any clouds of our own with us over that distance, and methinks from what you say they’re more dangerous to us than the gryphons anyway. Do you have any more of that potion?” he asked, to which they produced but two small half-full vials, the remaining liquid of which they said held only around twenty bolts each.

Rolling Thunder grimaced, and so did I. “Methinks that’s not enough to defeat their remaining mages or dent their numbers significantly,” he told us as a messenger appeared to inform us that the gryphons were now regrouping around the remains of the storm cloud factory, badly weakened but still possessing sufficient numbers to beat us back. “So be it. ‘Twould seem we’ll have to do this the hard way…” he buckled his helmet back on and deployed his wingblades. “Stay here, trainees! You’ve done plenty and fought well. The Corps will finish this.”

“The hay I will, sir!” Thunderbolt flared his wings in anger and brought his hoof down hard; the dangerous gleam returning to his eyes. “I’m not stopping as long as there’s more gryphons to slay!” he exclaimed as some wounded Corps soldiers were brought in.

Rolling Thunder stared at him for a moment, than nodded, perchance deciding he’d have more to worry about if he denied Thunderbolt’s desire to fight than if he acceded. “As you wish. Welcome back to active duty, Lieutenant.” He instructed one of the wounded soldiers to remove their wingblades and offered them to Thunderbolt instead. “I do request, however, that you not pull rank on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Thunderbolt answered as he pulled on the wingblade harness and a wounded soldier’s helmet, shrugging his shoulders to deploy the former. He took a few experimental swipes to test the fit, nodded in satisfaction and spread his wings to take flight, only to stop short, turning to face the two mares, and odd and dangerous smile breaking his burned and bloodied face.

“So tell me, Orchard… these Royal Legion lightning potions of yours. Is there any way to use them other than adding them drop by drop to clouds...?”

There was indeed, though methinks Thunderbolt’s presence made their use in such a manner immeasurably more dangerous… to both sides. We knew Thunderbolt had a lightning affinity from what Windshear had said, but had no idea how potent or deadly it truly was.

Victory

We emerged within five minutes to find the battle had stabilized into a standoff with both sides possessing equal numbers of Knights and Corps Soldiers, but even with their sharply reduced ranks, the gryphons still held the Storm Cloud factory, having finally and rather brutally crushed the militia-led assault directed there. ‘Twas clear by then they had given up on reducing the entire facility, but were attempting to complete the destruction of their most vital target before departing.

We would not let them escape, not if the fresh strategy we came up with had any success. With two reinforced battalions at his command supported by several hundred civilians and scattered militia troops, Rolling Thunder directed us to push them back towards the storm cloud factory, which we already considered lost. ‘Twas key, however, to making sure the price the Knights and Ravens paid for the bloody raid was total. The Knights sparred with the Corps soldiers with some success until Thunderbolt returned to the fight, and I was awestruck to see him in action; an unstoppable killing machine that dropped two dozen elite soldiers in the space of a minute. His presence forced the gryphons to fall back on their interior lines and keep under the protection of their mages…

Exactly as we wished them to. With their remaining six hundred or so soldiers gathered tight around the storm cloud factory whilst the Ravens set charges to bring the fortified facility down completely, we passed the cloud vials to Thunderbolt. I honestly didn’t know if what he was planning would work, but ‘twas certain he was also the only one who could survive it if it did.

After Rolling Thunder feinted an attack from the north to pull some of the gryphon forces away, Thunderbolt shot towards the storm cloud factory from the southwest, and for once he didn’t stop to slay any gryphons… perchance because he knew full well that if he succeeded, he would slay them all.

Dodging bolts and magus fire from the gryphon troops, he flew at his considerable top speed right for the ground in front of the damaged facility, landed in the middle of a group of surprised Knights and Ravens, including what appeared to be a Knight commander. He spoke to them in Aeric, perchance informing them they were all about to die, raised a vial of lightning potion as if in toast to them, and then...

He drank it!

At first, nothing happened as the gryphons hastily drew their weapons, but then his eyes and very cutie mark glowed gold and we could all feel a static charge building in the air. The potion charged him as he’d never been before, and suddenly, he was a living lightning battalion as bolts erupted from him in every direction, each uncannily aimed at the nearby gryphons, who he slaughtered in seconds, forcing the remainder to flee. Their leadership destroyed, he then carried out the second part of the plan as the first vial was spent, using his final bolts to blast open a wall to a storm cloud storage vault other workers present knew the location of. He disappeared inside, the gryphons afraid to follow him, and barely a minute later…

The clouds beneath our hooves rippled and there was a growing rumble as if an airborne earthquake was occurring. The second way the Royal Legion could use their lightning potion was as a massive bomb—if you could toss a vial of the potion into a large cloud, it would erupt with not just the potion’s lightning, but release all the natural bolts it had already stored as well and at once, much as the magus spell caused the militia clouds to do. But those were just single clouds. For when tossed into the storm cloud vaults of the weather factory…

The building all but exploded in lightning, shattering it from the inside. Massive numbers of jagged sparks reached hundreds of meters into the air and all around, like giant scattershot bolts that caught almost all the gryphons in their lethal net. We pulled back as the remaining Knights and Ravens were all but annihilated by the massive explosion of electricity, a mixture of gold Royal Legion and the more typical blue-tinged Corps bolts that erupted out of the ruptured storage vaults with devastating effect, destroying the building and everything within three hundred yards.

‘Twas a spectacular and deadly display, and once it was done, the dazed remainder of the leaderless gryphons were easy prey for Rolling Thunder’s full-strength brigade, which attacked and drove off what little was left of their once-overwhelming force with the loss of nearly ninety percent of their original numbers.

And all thanks to one pony, who inflicted such grievous losses in an act of incredible sacrifice, one he was not likely to survive. To this day, I wonder if Thunderbolt actually had a death wish—’twould be a lie to say that I did not at times, like here—but methinks the answer was truly no. And why?

Because as he told me once, he wished for redemption and atonement above all, to break the hold his killing demons had over him. If he died there, he would have neither even if the Gryphons were slain. But by living, he could not only serve Equestria once more, but himself as well.

… As a Battle Won

It was done.

When we entered the ruins later, we found Thunderbolt seared and his fur still smoking under a pile of rubble… but also very much alive. To little surprise, the first thing he asked when he was pulled free was, were all the gryphons dead? The answer was yes, and with that, his bloodlust left him and he emerged with some help to the cheers of civilians and Corps soldiers alike. ‘Twas only then that he allowed himself to accept their acclaim—something he never did after Phoenix Fire for the atrocities he committed—and this time, he would accept decoration for his actions…

Once he made it out of the hospital, that was, where he would spent the next several days with severe burns and internal injuries in addition to his myriad blade and bolt wounds. But the battle could not have been won without him, nor could hundreds of weather factory workers have been saved and later able to rebuild.

The gryphons may consider him a villain, but to me and many others, he is the greatest of heroes, a pony who wielded a terrible gift ultimately in service to others and saved countless lives with it. He was my friend and my comrade, and perchance I choose now to live simply to keep his memory—that of my oldest and dearest friend—alive.

We all believe the same, my new friend. He will never be anything less than a hero in my own eyes as well. He saved us all, and somehow even turned me, the most unwarlike pony in existence, into a soldier in the process. I respect him as I do few others… save perchance you, Fell Flight.

I was alive.

I was alive, and I didn’t know how.

If ‘twas a great victory, it did not feel like it as we picked through the remains of the weather factory cafeteria, looking for those we knew even as we prayed we wouldn’t. The wail of children finding their brutally slain parents and vice-versa is a sound nopony should ever have to make or hear, but one that was heard all too often that day. No pony should ever go looking for their family among the dead, and in the end…

You will forgive me captain, that even thirty years later, ‘tis still very painful for me to recall that search, and what it resulted in. And you will forgive me as well, if from this point forward I decline to detail my wartime experiences further as I find them anything but cathartic to relive. You were born to fight, my sister, but I was forced to, and though I find irony in the fact that I remain a soldier even though you no longer are, ‘tis no lie to say that I never wished it and part of me died that day along with far too many of our family.

As for why I remain in the Corps, ‘tis simply to do what I can to ensure such scenes never recur. I oversee Corps storm cloud production to ensure that Equestria is ready should the storm of war ever break over our lands again…

So that we may never have to hear the cries of grieving ponies once more.

I know, dear Glory. The burden of the warrior was supposed to be mine alone, but war does not respect such wishes. I never wished it for any of you, and I cannot help but regret again not being there that day. Perchance I would have died, but perchance I could have saved more of our herd.

Mayhap ‘tis but a form of survivor’s guilt, but I nonetheless bear it. And since my sister will not say what she found, I will: every other adult member of our herd save Morning Glory herself died at the weather factory in that attack, slain by the Ravens, who I cannot forgive to this day. Indeed, I bore them special hatred afterwards as my mother, her herdmates, two siblings and my sire all fell, and worse, the fear, pain and pure terror of their last moments can never be known.

You may find this attack justified in purely military terms, My Captain, and I certainly understand your rationale for it. But I cannot agree with it. To me, the attack on Cloudsdale ‘twas a savage assault on peaceful ponies who had nothing to do with war, and it will never be justified in my eyes.

I understand how you feel only too well, noble warrior and emissary, and I decline to offer my own opinions on the matter except to say that I would not have wished to be the one who planned that operation and ultimately had to make the horrific calculation of what would win the war more quickly.

‘Tis worth noting I have known many Gryphons since the war, befriending several, and I ended up drinking in a pub with a former Knight the day of Thunderbolt’s monument commemoration. They, too, lost far too many that day and we ended up crying together for our lost friends and comrades, blaming not each other but a war that was as inevitable as it was senseless.

‘Twas a rare family of Cloudsdale indeed who did not have friends or family who belonged to the militia or worked at the weather factory.

Almost all of us lost friends and loved ones in that attack, and we of Windshear’s herd were no different. ‘Twas only the next day, as we had just learned of Windshear’s death whilst we were picking through the rubble and bodies that we found Red Tail had died at her post guarding the entrance to the storm cloud factory, fighting the Ravens alongside Corps soldiers and trying to prevent their entry. She trained to fight them in the PSD and oft wondered how her knife-fighting skills would match up with them. In the end she took two with her, succumbing only to repeated hits of crossbow bolts and scimitar blades.

Gust Front fought as well, donning her Corps uniform and personal wingblades to lead her own improvised force into action against the Knights over Fort Tempest; we knew not her fate until well after the battle, finding her hospitalized with a broken wing and shattered rib cage, having been bested by a Knight commander. A veteran NCO who’d seen plenty of action at Outpost Omega, she would leave the reserves to rejoin the Corps on active duty after she healed, but to our great sorrow, lasted not a month before she fell in battle, and more death notices would soon follow for our beloved foals. ‘Twas far too much grief for any one family to bear and yet, we were lucky for simply knowing their fate. For far too many other herds and families, they would never know what happened as the bodies of their slain loved ones fell through the cloudbase to the ground far below and were never found.

Despite our losses and being middle-aged, Blue Jay and I wanted to fight in the war as well, but with half our herd gone and with three underage foals still to take care of, we both could not. At least one of us needed to stay out of the war in order to raise our remaining foals, so ‘twas decided after some discussion that Blue Jay would fight and I would stay behind, becoming herd matriarch, carrying on the Windshear line if the worst should happen and all should perish. All did not, but of our five foals who were or eventually enlisted, three would fall, leaving but two alive...

And no matter how many times we got word the worst had happened, the agony never got easier to bear.

I am an old pony now, the last surviving member of Windshear’s original herd, approaching seventy years of age. But for all the loss I suffered, neither my house nor my heart are empty. The herd of my youngest surviving foal, Swift Sparrow, still lives with me in our original home, and I have a museum to curate with many tales to tell others within it. I have lived a full life, and have no regrets for any of it… save that I could not fight again at Windshear’s or my sister’s side. I do not leave Cloudsdale much any longer, but I will to see the graduation of my beloved Windshear’s grandfoal, Stalwart Stand, and visit Windshear’s memorial together with him then.

And I will be honored to give you an escort, dear friend and honored mare of my mentor. You have known more loss than anypony should ever expect or experience over your long life, but I for one am very glad you were willing to share your story. Thank you for being Windshear’s wife, thank you for all the hospitality you showed us, and thank for simply being the honorable mare you are. You are living history and a link to the past now, and you will always have a friend in me.

With this, the Battle of Cloudsdale draws to a close, and the focus of the story shifts back to the frontier and our attempts to not only survive the Imperial onslaught, but somehow slow it down. ‘Tis debatable how much we accomplished when all was said and done, but at the time, simply living to tell the tale was enough.

People tell me I saved hundreds and hundreds of people. But I have to tell you: It’s not the people you saved that you remember. It’s the ones you couldn’t save.

Author's Notes:

I'd always meant to do battle graphics for each new battle, but this drove home just how difficult and time consuming it really is. I spent about 24 hours total on these things. But now that I've got the graphics designed, hopefully others will come quicker. At some point, I'll also go back and do graphics for the earlier stages of the fight and the assault on the militia base.

So ends the Battle of Cloudsdale, though I think it's clear to all I've sent up the next couple battles nicely. Focus shifts back to Epsilon and Raptor Base in the next chapter, and you'll be seeing not just Layan Kaval in action for the first time, but Prelate Gaius himself. Can he fight? Well, I’ll put it this way: You don't ascend to such lofty heights in the Empire as he has unless you can.

Thanks as always goes to AJ_Aficionado, Denim_Blue, Leo Archon and Silentwoodfire for the prereads on the 10k word chapter, and I'd also like to welcome back TheGoldCrow to the ranks of prereaders as well. Lots of good comments on the parent google doc, and plenty more to come.

If you like the story, and you like the effort I've put into it thus far, you're invited to show your appreciateion on patreon. Thanks!

https://www.patreon.com/firesight

Part 10 - Spoiling Strike

The first day of the war demonstrated the truth of the old adage that no plan survives first contact with the enemy to both sides, and I am under no illusions about how lucky we at Epsilon were to survive it.

With the Army and Corps border bases only garrisoned at peacetime levels of ponypower when the Gryphons struck, our numbers were sufficient for dealing with raider groups, but not with a full-scale Imperial invasion. Had Prelate Gaius hesitated to strike immediately upon learning his war plans lost, within days he would have been confronted with a heavily reinforced border that would have bloodied and blunted his forces far worse should he have still attempted an attack.

Unfortunately, with few exceptions neither Gaius nor his commanders were foals, and the greatest gryphon threat, we would find, was not their numbers or quality of soldiers but their agility; their ability to react quickly and willingness to learn from their mistakes. Whether Epsilon and Equestria itself survived would hinge on whether we could learn to do the same in enough time.

Out of contact with Corps Command and with most border bases around us already fallen, we were on our own, and our only chance at survival, I increasingly realized, was to do what Gamma did and take the initiative; risk our forces in a series of spoiling attacks that would either buy us time and force the Gryphons to react to us... or expose us to earlier annihilation.

Council of War

Watchtower
Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1^st, 1139 AC
1505 hours

I did not stay with Sky Sentry long.

In truth, I could not, as time was critical and our window of opportunity uncertain were our spoiling attack to work. But I held his hoof and reassured him I was there as the healers cast a sedation spell on him so they could operate and fully repair his numerous burn, slash, and arrow wounds. I still had no idea what Tartarus he’d been through at that point beyond what I could see, but ‘twas clear enough from his battle shock that he was likely all that remained of Outpost Delta. I could only pray he had not come all this way to Epsilon only to see it suffer the same fate.

Returning to the watchtower, we hammered out the remaining aspects of our proposed spoiling attack in the next ten minutes to some heated disagreement between Fell Flight and First Sergeant Still Way as to the best means to do so.

“Are you mad, First Sergeant? You want us to attack the assembly area by flying low through the inner canyon river ravine?” Fell Flight was never one to mince words. “’Twould be suicide! Such a plan would only work if we can get there undetected and burst upon them from close range, but ’tis all but impossible they would not have such an avenue of approach watched over and their assembly areas guarded by magus anti-intrusion enchantments! We would have no room to maneuver in that narrow gorge, and channeled into a small area as we would be, they could hardly miss with their crossbows! This assembly area lies downwind and we have plenty of storm clouds. We should instead use them to lay a thick fog over the canyon so they cannot see us approach and then do what Gamma did and attack the assembly area with lightning from above!” My second insisted, always preferring the direct approach.

“And methinks the sudden presence of fog in a desert canyon would be a dead giveaway that something was up, Master Sergeant,” Still Way said dryly, never losing his sly smile. “And yes, Gamma attacked from above, but only after launching their attack by bursting out of tunnels right on top of them. As their assembly area is located on the lower canyon plateau, methinks we can use the inner canyon gorge to the same effect.”

“Whilst in the canyon, our attacking force would be difficult to see except from directly above. If we move quickly enough and keep to the afternoon shadows, we could surprise them. And fear not their intrusion detection enchantments. When the assault force gets close, I can teleport in and use my own magic to disperse them,” he promised, nodding upwards towards his horn.

Far from reassured, Fell Flight stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “So you will teleport ten miles, which will send up an immediate flare to any Magus in equal range with even a shred of magical awareness, cast a counter-spell that they will also instantly detect, and then face down an attack from them with the bulk of your magic spent, whilst the gryphon force we seek to strike is likewise alerted and our assault force is flying a circuitous route through the narrow river ravine to reach them, making them easy prey to crossbow and Magus fire?” Fell Flight summarized, then turned to me. “’Tis sheer and utter folly, commander!”

Put that way, I was hard-pressed to disagree. “Unfortunately, methinks neither tactic is likely to succeed, Master Sergeant. Both present their own severe and likely fatal flaws,” I answered evenly, systematically analyzing the tactical situation as my former Epsilon commander, First Lieutenant Sundiver, had taught me, studying the maps of the canyon and marked assembly area carefully. The biggest impediment I could see to either plan succeeding was reaching the assembly area undetected, given we were being monitored by gryphon patrols at all times and they’d quickly see any move we made.

If we attacked the assembly area from above at full speed as Fell Flight desired, ‘twould take about two minutes to reach it, which was still enough time for the six hundred or so Talons and Knights in the assembly area to ready themselves for battle given ‘twas likely they’d be instantly alerted to our approach. I could not see that fog would help us either, as ‘twould take nearly an hour to create in large enough quantity to fill the canyon to that distance and, as the First Sergeant said, ‘twould be in itself a dead giveaway that something was up.

On the other hoof, a sneak attack through the inner river gorge presented even graver risk as loss of surprise meant certain death. ‘Twould take upwards of five minutes for us to navigate its winding path, and if we were detected they could trap us in the narrow ravine and a slaughter would result. There was also the question of bringing sufficient storm clouds along for the attack as Storm Team movement was severely slowed with them; they would not be able to join us until after we went in, but we needed them at the start to get a first strike in against their mages.

After voicing these thoughts out loud, I turned to my assembled senior soldiers and NCOs. “So regrettably, I do not see that either plan will work. I don’t suppose the Lances have any tricks we could use for concealment or getting past their magical detection methods, Sky Sergeant?” I asked, turning to Swift Strike, addressing him by his actual rank for perchance the first time. His true name or rank had not been known to my soldiers until the day before, when he had been recognized and revealed by the two Ravens we captured during their pursuit of the Changeling spy delivering us the Gryphon invasion plans.

As there was no further point in him carrying on the charade of being merely Corporal Zephyr Sparrow, 5^th Division Logistics specialist, he was now wearing the stripes of a Sky Sergeant. “We do, but unfortunately… I do not have them available to me as the EIS only issues them on a mission-by-mission basis,” he told me apologetically, Gavian listening quietly at his side, now dressed in some Talon armor, a leather chestplate that was slightly too large for him supplemented with pauldrons and vambraces. He had painted them sky blue at my instructions as opposed to their usual silver, matching the color of Corps combat uniforms and making him easily recognizable to my soldiers. He was there simply because I wanted him in Swift Strike’s presence at all times, but as I glanced at him, I saw he was studying the map intently himself, his sword and a purloined crossbow and quiver strapped to his back.

Whatever his thoughts were, he remained silent as Swift Strike spoke again. “In my opinion, your analysis is correct, Commander. With due respect to your magical talents, First Sergeant, I fear Fell Flight is right that for you to teleport in and attempt to magically disable their enchantments would simply send up a signal flare that we were approaching via the inner valley.

“But attempting to cover the valley with fog as a prelude to coming in high as the Master Sergeant suggests would give them ample opportunity to ready themselves. Perchance in response they would simply leave their assembly area to get above the canyon rim and level of the fog before we could strike. ‘Tis what I would do were I the enemy commander and I saw fog rolling in, ma’am.”

“If neither plan will work, then what will we do?” Fell Flight’s enthusiasm was starting to wane. “I see no other potential approaches other than through the canyon itself… wait! Perchance we are making this too complicated. What if we simply create a small storm to do the work for us?” she asked us all eagerly. “A mere fifth of our storm cloud cache would be sufficient for the task. As ‘twould not be full scale, methinks we could spin up a mini supercell in minutes and send it crashing down the canyon. They are located around several bends of the river and methinks they might not see it coming…” her voice trailed off as methinks she saw the flaws with that plan even as she spoke.

“As much as I would love to make use of a supercell against them, miniature or otherwise… methinks ‘tis little chance ‘twould either hit its target over that distance without us there to shepherd it, or that the gryphons would not evacuate its path in time,” Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt, the stallion leader of our weather teams, pointed out. We had standing orders prewar to retaliate for any gryphon incursions with superstorm strikes against their base of operations, as Gamma had done following a Raven raid on Epsilon against Raptor Base, and had received sufficient stocks of storm clouds to make them.

But superstorms were strategic weapons, not tactical ones; they were typically only good against fixed targets like cities or surface bases, not against highly mobile gryphon soldiers in the field. And as their attacks had apparently been launched out of tunnels and underground facilities, they were of no use here. “And were we to make a full-scale one so it did not have to be targeted precisely, methinks ‘twould be difficult to do so unharrassed and they would see it coming from many miles away,” Blue Bolt continued, echoing my own thoughts.

“Then what is left?” Fell Flight asked, deflated again. “If we cannot safely strike them from distance, or from up close, then how can we reach them?”

“How indeed…” I closed my eyes as I thought, and then it hit me. “Perchance our thinking is too rigid. Perchance the answer to our dilemma lies not in either option… but both of them,” I said with what was admittedly deliberate coyness. But methinks I was feeling quite pleased with the idea that had just occurred to me.

“The key will be to combine their strengths to overcome their weaknesses. ‘Twill take perfect timing, but methinks we can still surprise them if we do this…” I said as I picked up a quill to place in my muzzle, dipped it in ink and began to draw directly on the map.

Methinks ‘twas an excellent plan you came up with, Captain, and I must commend you on your superb tactics and thinking, using your limited force and resources to maximum effect. ‘Twas a quality that would bedevil us in the days and weeks to come.

On the gryphon side of things, we were quite good at conventional warfare, excelling at combined arms and maneuver. Given a tactical puzzle, our field commanders could solve it quickly. But where we came up short, especially early in the war, was in the exercise of unconventional warfare. We were too often caught off-guard by pony daring and resourcefulness; your willingness to take chances and resort to means we would have thought foolish, as Captain Sirocco demonstrated when her forces found and broke into our underground headquarters bunker beneath Raptor Base.

Rouse and Resist

Imperial Headquarters Bunker
Beneath Raptor Base,
Opposite Outpost Gamma
September 1st, 1139 AC
1450 hours

I could not help but feel excited and eager as the alarms sounded throughout Raptor, and we began hearing panicked and quickly silenced reports of black-suited ponies entering the complex, clearing corridors and slaying gryphon and diamond dog alike as they went. The latter were their initial targets, and quite rightly to start, as given but half a chance the Dogs could bring the tunnels right down on their collective heads.

‘Twas clear, however, they had ambitions far beyond them as we received word that nearly a hundred Equestrian Army troops from the Gamma Garrison backed by two Black Lance squads began fanning out through the tunnels, searching for their primary target—Prelate Gaius himself. Worse, we could not evacuate to the surface as we received reports of a surface attack as well; the buildings over which our entrance and exit shafts sat were destroyed and collapsed on top of them.

‘Twas a dangerous situation, doubly so as we had no Ravens to counter them; they had all been assigned to various special operations all along the frontier—a fact that Captain Sirocco was now taking advantage of. She was an aggressive and very competent commander; a necessity for commanding the Equestrian border forces, and we knew her well from prewar parleys. She was insulting and condescending but she was also no fool; she knew Gaius well enough to know that he would want his command center right up against the border where he could oversee the invasion and react quicker. She therefore thought to kill him and cripple the Imperial leadership from the start.

Methinks I had no idea how her forces had found the tunnels, which would have required them to go right under the canyon, but it did not matter then. What did matter was saving our bunker and for myself, carrying out my duty to protect Gaius at all costs. His office was well-protected, sitting at the center of the tunnel web, but as they had miners of some form in their ranks, ‘twas possible they could do what the Diamond Dogs did and just bring the ceiling down on all of us.

“Stay back, My Lord!” I ordered him, speaking no longer as his adjutant, but as his bodyguard as I heard a commotion outside; Talon security forces taking station to defend. “On my skill and honor, they will not gain entry.”

Primarch Livia Junius Cassius was not about to stand by either. “Fear not, Prelate. I will defend you as well… if only because ‘tis my duty and I wish you to live long enough that the Empress hears of your failure of security and refusal to strike Gamma quickly!” Livia drew one of her massive Paladin war maces and took her own rougher stance, standing nearly a head above me.

In response, Gaius calmly got up from behind his desk, opened a hidden wall compartment and withdrew his own custom weapons: paired battle axes; lighter and shorter variants of standard Fortis Knight versions he had designed and forged himself. Though an earth gryphon, he eschewed the heavy weapons and armor most of them wielded in favor of lighter arms that suited his own unique style of combat. “I thank you both for your concern, but ‘twould seem they have gone to a great deal of trouble to find and target me. And I would hate to disappoint them by making no appearance at all,” he told us easily, clipping the axe sheaths on his back, his prelate command chain and breastplate glittering in the low light.

‘Twas only then we realized he intended to engage them himself. “But my Lord!” Livia and I chorused, for once in agreement.

“But nothing, Tribune and Primarch. I am a warrior and will face them as one! To flee in the face of this desperate attack would be dishonorable and is in fact quite unnecessary. As they wish to slay me, I will grant them the chance. In truth, ‘tis been too long since I have tasted close combat, and not even a Prelate should insulate himself from it,” he said easily, and with that, he stepped right between us and out into the hallway to the shock of all present, his eyes and ears scanning the area for just a few seconds before speaking into a special scrying crystal, this one keyed to let his voice be heard throughout the base.

“Listen and take heed, soldiers and allies of the Empire alike!” he began, addressing both our headquarters staff—all soldiers and warriors in their own right; the Gryphon military to this day has no conception of noncombatants—and the surviving Diamond Dogs present as well, speaking in Equish for their benefit as they did not know the gryphon tongue. “Rouse and resist! Do not attempt to fight them singly; instead, form decades and fall back to the inward corridors of the second ring! They may have an initial advantage of numbers, but that matters little down here—choke the tunnels and bleed them dry around corners and in narrow spaces!

“Earth Gryphons to the front with shields and hammers, Sky Gryphons and Diamond Dogs form mobile decades to the rear! Stand fast and await further orders! And be assured we WILL win this day!” he said to the audible cheers of his troops; knowledge of the Equestrian language was a prerequisite for being assigned to his headquarters staff so they all understood him as well.

With that, he turned to me. “The Equestrians undoubtedly heard all that, but it matters not. They must complete their objectives quickly or be wiped out. The Talons can hold off their army troops, but the Lances are another matter,” he noted. “And as we lack Ravens to counter them, methinks the task of slaying them will fall to you and I, my friend…”

Thank you for your latest contribution, Ambassador. Methinks Prelate Gaius was many things, but ‘tis certain that a coward was never among them. Captain Sirocco’s plan was well-conceived, and she thought the risk worth it given the chance to decapitate the Imperial invasion force on the first day of the war. But we knew not what was happening at Gamma back at Epsilon, where we hurriedly organized for our own attack. knowing full well that defeat meant our immediate destruction.

Before beginning, I wish to note that in the past, I have not publicized how this attack was launched, for the simple reason that I wished to use it as an exercise for my students at the Equestrian Officer Academy. I present them with the situation as it existed that afternoon, giving them the problem of how to conduct a spoiling attack or otherwise buy time as we faced that day, challenging them to form war councils and come up with a solution within a time limit to simulate the pressure we were under.

Sometimes they surprise me with options I never considered, but more often than not their solutions are easily shot down. Regardless, the purpose is to teach them to ‘think outside the box’, as I still consider this without any humility one of the best early wartime examples of me doing so.

On a side note, I offered to pass the pen to Fell Flight for describing this coming attack, which she played a major role in, as she has not yet contributed any more than a few asides to this tale. But she declined, reminding me that this operation was my plan and not hers, and as such it deserves to be told by me.

Aerial Assault

Watchtower
Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1^st, 1139 AE
1608 hours

Under normal circumstances, any attack contemplated by Equestrian forces against the gryphons would undergo many days of planning and rehearsal, as had happened before the Phoenix Fire operation. Even the Lances did not launch hasty operations; they carefully analyzed intelligence first and chose everything from their objectives to their timetable to even their insertion points quite carefully.

We had no such luxury at Epsilon. We had to plan and launch this attack in under an hour, if possible, or the gryphons could preempt us with a second wave. ‘Twas an interesting exercise in passing instructions and making them understood, keeping things simple enough that they could be carried out on such short notice whilst still bringing sufficient force to bear, yet also leaving us able to withdraw quickly enough to return to base and defend it from the counterstrike our attack was certain to provoke.

If we did not—if we lingered too long over our target or the timing of our two-pronged strike was disrupted—our annihilation was all but assured.

I targeted a normal platoon rotation for the start of our operation. On wartime alert, we were on a four-shift schedule to suit our four platoons. During a rotation, one patrol platoon would become the ‘resting’ force, allowed to eat and sleep, whilst the previous one would start patrolling and the one they replaced in turn would become the ready platoon; resting and eating but keeping in gear, defending the base and able to respond instantly should the gryphons strike again.

The previous ready platoon would in turn become the second patrol platoon, and this rotation happened once every six hours… plus or minus an hour to keep the gryphons guessing when ‘twould occur and not let them take advantage of a predictable schedule; a tactic recommended by Fell Flight which she in turn learned from Windshear.

The size of the strike was another issue, as we were planning to challenge six hundred soldiers with not even a hundred of our own. I wanted the two fresh platoons available for action, which meant the two just coming onto patrol duty, whilst the resting ones would prepare a defense of the base in conjunction with the remaining storm teams. I could only commit two teams to assist the strike, which hardly seemed enough, but as it turned out, ‘twas all we could take over that distance.

As the plan evolved, our hope was less to slaughter them in the assembly areas than to bloody their beaks and get their attention, then break contact and induce them to pursue us, with the goal of luring them into an ambush back towards our base.

‘Twas the form the ambush would take that was the key. The purpose of creating a superstorm was (mostly) to kill or destroy anything in its path with massive amounts of lightning; the hail, wind and tornadoes it could also generate were actually secondary to its primary threat. But we didn’t need to create a superstorm to produce its lightning threat, for there was another way storm clouds could be used other than directly. ‘Twas a rather dirty trick Osprey knew from her earlier days on an Outpost Omega storm team, though ‘twas very difficult to use in most cases.

I immediately set out to create conditions under which ‘twould work, ordering our two resting platoons commanded by Blindside and Second Lieutenant Snow Squall to start using storm clouds to create fog, which they did with a gusto, bucking them to break them up and gradually saturate the air around us. Before long, not even the desert sun could burn off the large amounts of moisture we were adding to the air in the immediate vicinity of Epsilon, and fog began forming around us, spreading out laterally but most of it quickly pouring into the canyon. I immediately got back word of Gryphon forces standing to as they observed our activity, anticipating some move.

Whilst this was happening, our other two platoons commanded by Flight Sergeant Osprey and Master Sergeant Stormrunner began a normal patrol pattern, awaiting my signal. Fell Flight and I remained at the base for the time being, as seeing us leave ‘twould be an instant indication that an attack was underway. I waited as long as I dared, and then, suddenly shot into the air, joining Osprey’s platoon as the lead force as we broke patrol and flew at full attack speed for the gryphon assembly area, leaving Lieutenant Snow Squall in charge of Epsilon’s defense—’twas only by happenstance that his platoon was one of the resting ones, but still fitting, given he was supposed to be taking over command of the base from me anyway.

We charged down the canyon at about halfway below the rim level to make sure the Gryphons would have to be over the canyon to see us, but it made little difference as Talon patrols converged on our formation. They could not match our speed, but they could easily cut off our retreat in the canyon, box us in and then rain crossbow bolts upon us, knowing we had no unicorn shields available to us this time.

Nevertheless, we did not falter, charging forward, heedless of the danger and the forces moving to surround us. “Soldiers of Epsilon! Strike!” I shouted into my blue command gem loud enough for the Gryphons to hear as the assembly area came into view down around a curve and we saw a cohort of Talons braced by a few dozen Knights organizing to meet us—and worse, there were two mages in their mix, taking position out on the wings. Despite our rapid approach, neither they nor their rank-and-file soldiers moved to engage us but rather, they assembled into three-decade Turmas—their platoon equivalent—and moved to bracket us, brandishing their crossbows and waiting for us to come into range, intending to catch us in a crossfire before closing in. After whittling our numbers down, they would undoubtedly send the gold-armored Knights in first to break up our formations and kill our leaders, then let the Talons swoop in to finish our broken squads singly.

‘Twas the correct strategy, and I noted with some grim satisfaction from the head of our formation that my initial analysis of Fell Flight’s suggested plan was correct—that no matter how fast we were, our attack stood no chance of succeeding; the Talons and Knights were simply too well-trained and quick to react to an obvious threat.

Which was why the purpose our sudden lunge towards the assembly area with me leading ‘twas nothing more than to draw the attention of the gryphon forces, making sure all eyes were on us and not on the inner canyon river ravine. For trailing our platoon, winding its way through in inner gorge rapidly filling with fog from simple spillover was Master Sergeant Stormrunner’s third platoon, with Fell Flight at its fore.

But we had to hold their attention long enough for them to arrive and burst out just below the assembly area, so just before we entered effective crossbow range, I gave a second order.

“2nd platoon! Break!” I shouted into my gem and Osprey’s Omega veterans instantly obeyed, her three squads suddenly fanning upwards and outwards as we had discussed, turning away from the assembly area and instead on the Talon patrols that were trailing us and trying to surround us. Flying in spirals to throw off crossbow fire, we targeted and closed on isolated decades quickly to slaughter them with our speed, much as had happened earlier that morning, though three of Osprey’s platoon fell as the surprised Talons fought savagely and desperately.

Interestingly, ‘twas their earth gryphons that gave us the most trouble despite their lack of speed and agility in the air, as they could simply go back to back with their heavier weapons and armor and be very difficult to slay. I could only idly note this, however, as the second phase of the plan began. Our sudden move to turn on our pursuers induced the assembly area gryphons to come after us, hoping that their comrades could hold us long enough for their numbers and Knights to tell. They would arrive in less than twenty seconds, at which point the engagement became a war of attrition we would lose no matter how good or fast we were…

Until there were a pair of flashes and thunderous booms from below, lightning lancing upward to target and kill both gryphon mages, who did not have their shields up. They were followed by Master Sergeant Stormrunner’s platoon surging out of the river ravine just below the assembly area, supported by two storm teams that Still Way had teleported in—the maximum he could move over that distance. Their presence undoubtedly triggered the anti-intrusion enchantments as Fell Flight had feared, but it mattered not as the mages were already slain and the battle shortly joined.

The advantage of surprise would not last long, but Fell Flight and Stormrunner made the most of it, targeting trailing decades, several quick rounds of lightning breaking up tight formations at which point our own squads descended, taking out thirty more Gryphon regulars in short order.

Compounding the threat, I ordered Osprey’s first squad to turn again on the assembly area cohort, threatening to pin them between our two platoons. With their mages gone, lightning combined with Still Way’s spellcasting went a long way towards equalling the odds, and confusion reigned in the gryphon ranks for a moment as they were uncertain which threat was worse. But their commander finally turned the bulk of his troops on the second force as crossbow bolts began to rain down upon them, Knights in the lead, their armor protecting them from the First Sergeant’s curses and magical bolts except at close range. He spared two centuries, however, to wheel on myself and Osprey’s 2nd and 3rd squads, still hoping to pin us against the decade-sized Talon patrols we were destroying in detail.

That was our cue. We’d only inflicted perhaps sixty casualties, mostly Talon, whilst suffering half a dozen of our own—hardly enough to cripple them or prevent their pursuit and if we stayed any longer, their numbers would tell. “Epsilon! Withdraw!” I ordered both platoons this time, which dove into the inner canyon again, the storm teams abandoning their clouds after setting them to go into continuous release in an attempt to discourage pursuit. Speed was crucial as we navigated the inner canyon back the way we came as fast as we dared, Still Way pacing us with short-range teleports that cost him less energy, knowing that if a gryphon force appeared in front of us or overhead and started raining crossbow bolts down, we were dead.

But that opportunity was quickly lost, not due to us outracing their pursuing force, which ‘twas impossible in the twisting inner gorge anyway, but due to the presence of fog gradually filling the canyon. Colder than its surroundings, it quickly settled and rolled down the lowest part of the gorge, which was the river ravine, masking it first. We entered it a third of the way down and it quickly hid us from view, ending the crossbow threat and making any attempt to close with us directly a very dangerous proposition.

They did not try. Somewhat to my shock, we’d actually gotten away with the first part of the plan, bloodying their collective beaks and making our way back to base with minimal losses, the gryphons in pursuit, pacing us from overhead by flying over the level of the fog, perchance hoping to see our heads pop up. “Lieutenant! We’re on our way back! Tell your gunners to hold fire!” I called into my gem to Snow Squall as we got back in range of the base, an occasional explosive crossbow bolt fired blind from overhead lighting up the mists and showering us with dirt and stone fragments, their sound mixed in with the occasional boom of a lightning bolt from one of the four storm teams still defending the base, who were loosing bolts at distant targets from above the level of the fog.

To my relief, he responded immediately; I’d half worried the sounds of lightning meant the gryphons had already pounced on our weakened base before our defenses were set. “Aye-aye, ma’am! Be advised, Gryphon formations numbering several centuries are closing in as we speak! We’re sniping at them and almost ready to receive them, so mind your flight path!” Snow Squall reminded me.

“Understood! 2nd and 3rd platoons! Fall back within the cloud cordon along the prearranged route! Do not touch the clouds!” I reminded them all as the pursuing gryphons closed in around us only to find the base shrouded in mists. An adventurous decurion tried to close but didn’t live long enough to regret it as we saw the shadows of his decade above and Fell Flight sliced upwards with a single squad to kill them.

We broke out of the ravine when we saw two clouds bracketing the river. With visibility poor and the fog thick enough to hide the bottom of the main canyon walls, a single lightning bolt was fired at my order from the top of the cliff to the bottom, marking the safe path back to base. We took it immediately, shooting up and over the cliff wall to land back on our own assembly field, where we saw Snow Squall’s platoon still creating fog and scattering clouds about, often times just sending them floating on a gust of wing-generated wind towards the outer reaches of our airspace, increasingly hidden by the humid air.

“Ma’am! Beg to report!” Snow Squall came up to me and saluted immediately as a flash of light announced Still Way’s return as well. “The gryphons are probing the perimeter but methinks they are just a bit reluctant to enter the fog bank. So I’m trying to encourage them. On my orders, the storm teams are engaging the gryphons at long range, and Blindside’s platoon is about to conduct a hit-and-fly attack against one of their nosier centuries. Methinks she should be getting there right about…”

There was a sudden eruption of shouts and battle cries followed by a series of shrieks on his open crystal link to Blindside herself, several miles away. They lasted less than ten seconds before she ordered her platoon to break contact and stay tight on her wing as she led them back in through the storm cloud-strewn airspace, her uncanny awareness of her surroundings allowing her to pick her way through the danger zone even in dense fog and lead her troops safely back to base.

“... now,” Snow Squall finished mildly with a pleased grin, one I then shared, recognizing what he had done. After our surprise strike and a second, even more ‘cowardly’ assault—hit-and-fly tactics like that were dishonorable to gryphon soldiers—they finally took the bait, charging in after Blindside’s platoon, perchance reasoning that whatever path she was following was a safe one. But the wind of our platoon’s passing drew the clouds in behind them, and despite their narrowed formation, all it took was a single gryphon soldier brushing a fog-hidden storm cloud to…

There was a series of muted flashes and crackling booms as a pre-triggered cloud erupted with all its stored lightning at once, detonating in the mist and sending the gryphon soldiers that escaped its barrage scattering and blundering into more clouds, decimating the pursuing Talon century within seconds, catching them in a crossfire of multiple lightning explosions; we could hear their screams even without the aid of the crystal gems, only for them to fall quickly silent.

“Well done, sir,” I nodded approvingly as a cheer went up, both at the results and safe return of our units, our attack and ambush having accounted for another two centuries of gryphon regulars. “That should be an object lesson for the rest, so let’s press our advantage. Patrol platoons! Clear paths to the periphery! Storm teams! Take station there just inside the mists and fire at targets of opportunity! Switch locations frequently, and should mages or large numbers of Talons or Knights threaten, set the clouds to discharge-on-contact mode and retreat to the interior, closing up the paths with wind behind you!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” came the enthusiastic responses as my soldiers moved to obey, as exhilarated at our success as I hoped the gryphons were disheartened. As I dispatched Fell Flight back to the watchtower so I could go back to the infirmary to check in on Gavian and Sky Sentry, methinks I couldn’t help but worry what the Gryphons would try in response and what the evening hours would bring. We’d bloodied them badly, accounting for twice our own numbers, but ‘twasn’t even a tenth of the legion they had in the area. We also hadn’t really faced the Knights yet, and ‘twas no doubt they and the Talons were chomping at the proverbial bit to repay us after our sneak attack.

Well-thought and well-fought, Captain.

Your victory, I can’t help but note, was small but bought you precious time whilst forcing Legate Galea’s 16^th Talon legion and his attached Knights to focus most of their attention on you, preventing further advances in their sector until Epsilon was reduced—the very definition of a successful spoiling attack. I also note that its success ‘twas in large measure due to your subordinates being able to discuss and collaborate on a strategy; their willingness to offer up their own advice and observations instead of simply carrying out the commander’s orders without comment as happened in far too many gryphon units.

Your subordinates also showed good personal initiative when Lieutenant Snow Squall ordered an attack on his own to induce the Talons to follow and trigger your trap, destroying another century of troops in the process. Perchance ‘twould be of interest to know that our own tactical schools now use this raid, a mere pinprick in the greater scheme of things, as an example of collaboration and agility amongst senior staff, to say nothing of how a small force can stall and bloody a much larger one.

Prelate Gaius had his faults, but he, too, was willing to listen to the counsel of officers he respected, myself most notably. He also proved he was as good at small unit tactics as he was at grand maneuvers this day, to say nothing of close combat itself. Gryphons do not rise to his rank and survive the innumerable battles and duels it takes unless they are mighty warriors in their own right, as he reminded us all that day.

Underground Assault

As Gaius finished outlining his initial plans to our group and dispatching runners to communicate them instead of via the scrying network, a thunderous boom echoed down the hallway, shaking some more dust from the ceiling as it became clear the ponies had even brought some storm clouds along to clear stubborn resistance from corridors, causing the Talons beside us to shift nervously. We had no mages with us, as, like the Ravens, they had all been assigned frontline duty to make up for missing numbers. ‘Twas an oversight we would rue later; for now we would have to defeat the attack with what we had.

Gaius, however, was unconcerned. “An interesting and dangerous proposition, bringing clouds down here,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Straight line weapons cannot fire around corners, so their gunners will have to expose themselves. And that is when we will have them,” he promised, a sly smile breaking his face as we received reports that the raiding force had entered a large and now-empty office area, one of six that sat on the inner ring of the underground base. Like the others, it had large multi-story chambers with elevated offices and enough room to fly in but, by the Prelate’s orders, it had been evacuated in favor of defending the tunnels leading inward towards the center of the complex.

The headquarters complex itself consisted of two concentric rings dug by the Diamond Dogs, which were both studded with large office antechambers at intervals and connected via zigzagging passages. The ponies had entered directly into one of the outer antechambers, slaughtering everyone inside quickly, and were now attempting to reach the inner ring as a prelude to storming the center of the complex where Prelate Gaius presumably was.

They were finding the going quickly becoming much more difficult, however, as we shook off our initial shock and organized for defense. Those stationed in the inner antechamber had, on the Prelate’s orders, extinguished all the lights and strewn the floor with small objects in an attempt to let superior gryphon night vision give us an advantage and leave us able to hear their approach when they inevitably stepped on and broke mugs, bowls, and chairs. A few sentries had also laid down explosive gems and set them to trigger on contact in hopes they might catch a few enemy soldiers in their snares.

But the ponies were smarter than that; we heard reports passed by simple note that they had reached the first inner antechamber. They masked their entrance with smoke and unicorn soldiers launching in magical strobe flares to light up the large room and disorient defenders, followed by the Black-suited Lances entering under their cover, clearing the upper offices of any potential ambush from above. I could imagine their frustration and confusion at finding nothing, perchance wondering where we were. Unicorn auras clearing paths through the debris, they then turned their attention on the inward corridors, positioning clouds and firing lighting into them to blast any defenders hiding inside to no avail, as they were now a bend or two back—the earth gryphon talons had done so on their own at the first sound of thunder; a simple sense of survival told them not to expose themselves.

“The dogs report they will reach their goals in two minutes, my lord,” Centurion Traal, commander of the headquarters security detachment, whispered in Gaius’ ear after receiving a Talon-delivered message from another runner. “And as they have suffered casualties of their own, they demand the chance to repay the ponies themselves.”

“Excellent,” he said, scrawling a quick message in reply. “Tell them they may, but only on my orders. Remind them they are not to break through until they receive my signal, or we will miss our chance to trap them.” He passed the message to the sky gryphon runner, who hurried back down the hallway, taking a circuitous route to reach the goal. No sooner had he left than there was the sound of renewed battle as the ponies encountered the first Talon soldiers guarding inner corridors. Thunder and flash gems went off but no explosive ones as perchance the ponies were worried about bringing the tunnels down.

We, however, had no such concerns as the Talons fired explosive-tipped crossbow bolts into the ceiling over their heads, trying to cave them in. The ponies reacted instantly to that; a unicorn placing a shield over the ceiling as the Lances retaliated with shock gems thrown at their feet, turning their own metal shields against them. They began to storm the tunnel, trying to reach the center of our underground base and Prelate Gaius himself. And ‘twas certain they were making progress thanks to the Lances and supporting troops, the former having taken the first two tunnel bends with the help of the latter whilst earth ponies and unicorns fanned out behind them, circling laterally along the second ring in an attempt to press us from multiple directions; we heard another panicked report of unicorns teleporting behind defenders to turn their defenses, sometimes in the presence of one or more Lances.

Gaius frowned at that, and so did I. “Teleportation requires the caster to have already visited where they are going, as they must be able to visualize their destination clearly,” he noted.

Livia hissed at that, brandishing her war mace. “For them to be able to do so means they had a spy down here!”

“Or perchance the EIS somehow captured and pulled the location and layout from the memories of an existing headquarters staff member,” I pointed out, grimly. “‘Twould also explain how they knew which buildings to strike at the surface. We can determine the source of the security breach later. But as to their unicorns, I believe we have countermeasures available to us…?” I glanced over at the Owl agents present, who had a small and isolated office in the complex. They were talking and muttering amongst themselves, no doubt sorely regretting the lack of the Ravens that normally defended them, clutching at their own hidden blades.

“‘Tis still only experimental, my lord,” the nearest Owl said in a trembling voice from under his cloak and hood, only deepening my contempt for them. They had not covered themselves in glory in recent days, but the efforts of their magical research division over the past several months had borne some interesting fruits. “‘Tis uncertain they will work!”

“Then ‘twould seem now is as good a time as any to test them. Give them to us,” Gaius instructed calmly, keeping the disdain out of his own voice as the senior agent gave him a magically sealed chest and the key to unlock it. Releasing the seal, he pulled it open to reveal a series of four gems.

“How long will their effects remain active?” Gaius asked him.

“For mere minutes only, my lord,” The Owl agent told him nervously. “Assuming they work at all.”

The Prelate actually chuckled at that. “Methinks such time will suffice. This battle will be over in mere minutes anyway,” he said calmly as two of the gems were rushed out to flanking forces, keeping one to ourselves as a fresh round of lightning booms sounded in another chamber. “We want them funneled here. And preferably confined to the one inner antechamber they already captured,” he added as he attached the hilts of his battle axes together to form a single long bladed staff, one he could whirl about with supreme skill.

“They are here for me, so I will be the bait that draws them in. We will be the anvil, and you, my friend, must be the hammer,” he nodded to me, passing me the final gem. “Take two sky gryphon decades and go with the Diamond Dogs to over the captured inner chamber. Wait for my signal and when the time comes, seal their exits, deny them their magic and cut them down without mercy. Methinks ‘tis time to put your new repeating crossbow to the test.” He grinned at me.

“My pleasure,” I grinned back, taking it off its harness and loading one of its barrel drums. An experimental minotaur-made weapon they were not yet able to produce in large numbers, I had already tried it on the firing range. Its bolts were small and range limited, but at close quarters its explosive-tipped bolts were lethal to packed-in troops.

But we were given no chance as suddenly there was a bright flash in front of us to reveal… a cloaked unicorn mare with two black-suited figures, wingblades brandished. The unicorn mare flashed a strobe light at us from her horn, causing us to look quickly away whilst the Lances tossed flash and thunder gems as an additional measure to disorient us. They had the drop on us… until Livia Cassius Junius charged them with her war mace and slammed it down into their midst.

She missed them all to little surprise as they leapt away, but they were disoriented as well by their sudden arrival, still trying to get their bearings after teleporting into unfamiliar surroundings, and from what we had read, teleportation tended to be very disorienting on those who were taken in one anyway.

The end of her massive Paladin weapon was charged with magic, which its impact released in a concussive wave that knocked them all off their hooves and halfway across the room. Even the Lances could not immediately regain their bearings from such a blow and died in a hail of crossbow bolts along with the unicorn from my weapon; I didn’t need much accuracy to cut them down at such short range.

“Test successful, my lord,” I told him dryly as Gaius activated the fourth and final gem, which began to pulse as he stuck it to a nearby wall.

“So I see,” he replied with a grin. “Excellent reflexes, my friend. And I believe we will have to place additional orders with the Minotaurs now.”

Livia sneered at that. “Wouldst it kill you to thank me as well, Prelate?” she asked him. “I just saved your life!”

“Hardly. They teleported in blindly and were easy prey. Pity. Methinks I would have enjoyed the chance to slay them myself,” Gaius replied evenly, not above tweaking her even then. “The gem is now active, meaning we have but minutes to act. Now go, Tribune!” he ordered me, and I instantly obeyed, taking two decades with me, as directed. I arrived with them at our destination in under a minute to find the Diamond Dogs impatiently awaiting orders, wearing improvised leather armor and some rough-hewn blades.

“We are ready!” one of them said, motioning to the partially-dug out rock in front of him, his teeth bared in a half-snarl smile. “Let us strike!”

“You will wait until ordered,” I reminded him in some annoyance, “or you will lose the chance for revenge!” Though they’d been instrumental in the Prelate’s invasion plans, digging us the tunnels that enabled us to mass our forces right under the pony noses, my opinion of the dogs remained low, as their external loyalties tended to belong to the highest bidder. But their internal ones were another matter; their pack loyalty was very strong, including their instincts to protect each other and avenge their fallen members. And as the ponies had already slain a dozen or more of them, I had no doubt they would happily fight them.

The wait was nonetheless interminable, knowing the clock was ticking. A series of crashing rumbles were then heard as other dog teams collapsed several side tunnels as per the first part of the Prelate’s plan, hemming the ponies in. That would not deny teleportation except for the fact that we also activated the gems right over those areas, suppressing most spellcasting. The gems were another Rose Ruby variant, these specially treated by Magus to hold and release a magical suppression field that normally could only be directly cast by the Magus themselves. They were not as powerful, long-lasting or as wide-ranging as the Magus spells they were based on, but for our purposes, ‘twas certain they would do the job.

“Tribune! Now!” Gaius called over the scrying network, having no need of codes or secrecy. I nodded to the dogs, who simply used their own earth magic to punch through the ceiling of the antechamber we were over, finding fifty ponies inside, packed tightly in their standard diamond-shaped squad formations up against the inner doorways, earth ponies on the periphery and a single squad of unicorns in the middle.

‘Twas the second part of the Prelate’s plan; he had not only deliberately ordered the large antechambers evacuated despite the fact they were defensible from above, but let the ponies hear his orders, making them think we were abandoning them in favor of tunnel defense. ‘Twas an excellent piece of misdirection on his part, and the ponies paid an immediate price as myself and the three decades of gryphons and Diamond Dogs following me flew in or dropped to the floor, raining down rocks and crossbow bolts onto their heads…

Followed by the final gem, right into the middle of the room, preventing unicorn teleportation and anything more than a direct levitation spell. Its range was about eighty paces, which covered the entire antechamber; we dropped a dozen ponies quickly before their unicorns could turn their longbows on us, at which point the sky gryphons were scattering to the previously cleared upper floor offices and began raining death on them in the form of armor-piercing and explosive crossbow bolts from the high ground above. ‘Twas not my style to strike from distance, however, so I joined the burly Diamond Dogs on the floor, my blades flashing out. I heard shocked yells in Equish and pleas for help as I began carving a path through their army troops, my blades slicing through armor and equine bodies with ease, dropping nearly a dozen more in seconds.

Unicorn auras tugged at me, attempting to pin me in place when all other spellcasting was lost to their owners, but my onyx armor deflected their efforts. Longbows and crossbows were trained on me but I kept them at bay simply by keeping the ponies at close quarters, tossing bodies in every direction, the sky gryphons above taking advantage of the distraction to target and kill unicorns first with their anti-aura bolts. The dogs made a glorious mess of things as well whilst pony attention was on me, favoring blunt instruments and clubs, and within seconds we had slain half the ponies in the room with others falling back into it from the side corridors and counterattacks out of the ceilings via dog-dug tunnels.

The apparent pony commander, an orange-furred pegasus stallion with lieutenant’s bars on his borrowed black bodysuit, shouted orders and storm clouds were trained on me. Recognizing the danger, I took flight and evasive action as a series of wide-angle bolts erupted from two clouds, trying to catch me in their snare. Their ‘scattershot’ bolts were not as powerful but were impossible to dodge, and I felt the electric currents play over me, threatening to knock me from the sky as they took out the bulk of the charging Diamond Dogs at once. But through sheer will and enchanted armor I remained airborne and elusive, waiting for the partially paralyzing currents to stop, then leveled my repeating crossbow and launched a stream of bolts from it, aiming at the gunners.

A unicorn tried to erect a shield but couldn’t thanks to the gem and several more pegasus ponies went down. But others took over and began firing single bolts at me as the Talons in the upstairs offices burst forth at my own orders, charging downwards with blades and bows leveled. They launched a volley at the storm teams, forcing them to dive away, at which point I leapt into their midst, preventing their clouds from being used again.

Earth ponies attacked me next, but their strength was no match for my speed or Talaeus blades. I slew another six quickly, forcing the rest to snipe at me with crossbow bolts and spears whilst simultaneously avoiding the sky gryphons overhead, who swooped and struck suddenly. The bolts I dodged; the spears I plucked right out of the air and threw two back, impaling their owners—some Talaeus thought it beneath them to attempt to wield pony weapons, but I was not one of them.

‘Twas then that two things happened at once—the ponies brought their final reserves into play from one end of the antechamber, Guardsponies included, and the Prelate’s earth gryphon group broke in from the other, having defeated the initial attack on him, the Prelate himself in the lead. I still marveled that he was willing to expose himself like that, but his double-ended axe staff whirled in rapid arcs around him, making him almost impossible to approach despite the weapons trained on him whilst the earth gryphon Talons in turn engaged the earth ponies and mostly-powerless unicorn soldiers with some success.

A Corps pegasus swooped in and was caught by an axe blade and slammed to the ground. An earth pony Army mare attacked him, blade in mouth after firing a crossbow, which he simply dodged with a single wingbeat, using a rapid mid-air tumble to slay her from above and when several charged him at once, he separated his axes and whirled through them with ease, reading movements and deflecting blows, his counterattacks always finding their marks and striking down multiple ponies in rapid succession; even demonstrating he could strike at distance by slaying a unicorn aiming a longbow at him with a thrown axe.

In contrast, Primarch Cassius was a raging minotaur bull, using her size and strength and blows from her war mace to clear the room, focusing her efforts on the three Guardsponies present. She’d taken several hits from the crossbow bolts but simply refused to go down, a by-product of her potion-infused body and great strength to say nothing of single-minded determination. She was completely unimaginative and one-dimensional in her combat style, relying on her sheer size and striking power above all else, which nonetheless was effective in the close confines and chaotic nature of the fighting as the two sides clashed throughout the antechamber; the ponies no longer able to bring their storm clouds to bear.

As time passed, our ability to fly and ranged attacks were giving us the definite advantage even as the effects of the gems wore off and unicorn magic came back into play for the few that were left, having been rightly targeted by the Talons whilst their powers were limited. We began to clear them and push them back down the way they came, clearing the outer corridors of them… until the ponies brought a second Lance squad into the fight, their skill and prepackaged sorcery turning the tide again.

We retreated back into the tunnels between the inner and outer rings in their face, but this time, I stayed in front as the first Lance rounded the corner and beheld me. I could not see her face, but by the movement of her muscles, her eyes went wide underneath her mask as she beheld my Talaeus armor and red-striped black coat. I can only assume she recognized me as not just as a Red Talon but the Red Talon commander, meaning Prelate Gaius had to be close by…

But first she had to get through me. There was a sharp movement and a blade flashed out; a lethal stiletto launched directly at my face. I saw its path clearly and shifted fractionally to let it glance off my helm. There was some kind of electrical spell attached as I felt a static charge, but the shock ‘twas intended to deliver was not transmitted through my onyx armor as it might have been through a metal one.

She next attacked with wingblades, but I parried the blows easily despite her speed and skill, using my strength and rapid reflexes to slam her into a wall, and then the floor. Her compatriots leveled miniature crossbows, but I simply tucked my head to let my armor accept their strikes, rolled forward and burst right through the shock gems they threw. They likewise failed to penetrate my armor, and I then engaged the two Lances blade-to-blade, slaying one, than the other as they simply had no freedom to maneuver in the narrow space. I, however, was more than used to it, having grown up an orphan in the back alleys of Loondon and learned to fight gangs of older gryphons in them.

‘Twas then that the door slammed shut on them as the remaining dogs collapsed their escape tunnel, hemming them in. Realizing they were trapped and their only way out was through us, they fought desperately but futilely as we closed in and broke into the outer antechamber, slaying their far more scattered forces and closing in on their commander, defended by a few more army troops and two surviving Lances as he was. He fought savagely with his wingblades, taking on an entire decade and slaying two Talons in aerial combat, but was finally overwhelmed and knocked from the air.

In one final gambit, a unicorn bearing a blade spotted Gaius and attempted to teleport in from the shadows, but Gaius somehow sensed it and when she rematerialized, the Prelate’s axe head was in her chest, causing her to stare in horror at it, and then crumple. After that, the remaining ponies fell easily, and within a minute, they were defeated. Picking his way through their bodies, Gaius found the wounded pony commander.

“First Lieutenant Sundiver, I presume?” Gaius addressed him in Equish. The orange-furred pegasus was coughing up blood, his wing broken and his chest gashed by a sword strike. My commander had an assortment of minor injuries of his own, mostly cuts and bruises accompanying one deeper slash on his foreleg, though with my attention only occasionally on him, I didn’t see him suffer most of them. “Former commander of Outpost Epsilon and Chief Training Officer of Outpost Gamma? My sincerest compliments, First Lieutenant. ‘Twas an excellent attempt and with only slightly better luck, ‘twould likely have worked. You planned and led this operation well.”

“Not… well… enough…” he got out, trying to rise but unable to do so. “Just… kill… me…” he begged.

“No,” Gaius said, holding up a paw to restrain his forces, who looked only too eager to do so in the face of the sneak attack and the losses they had suffered. “The battle is over, and I do not wish to slay such a worthy adversary. On my honor, you and your surviving forces will be accorded respect and held prisoner for the duration of the conflict. We will treat your wounds and see that you are held in comfort. You and your force fought magnificently, but your war has ended, First Lieutenant. Live with honor,” he said, saluting him to my great surprise.

I said nothing, but Livia Junius Cassius was not so restrained. “Sparing enemy soldiers who meant to slay every last one of us? Methinks you are far too soft, Prelate!” she sneered despite her own wounds, blood dripping off her flank onto the floor from an embedded crossbow bolt she still hadn’t removed from her side.

“We are gryphons, Primarch!” he retorted, allowing anger to leak into his voice. “You may report this to the Empress if you wish, but I will not rescind my offer! ‘Tis tradition that we respect and honor worthy foes, and so we will here!” he told her and everyone within earshot with finality, then switched over to the scrying network so his voice would be heard everywhere.

“Hear me, fellow warriors! This day is OURS! On my orders, Equestrian survivors are to be offered honor and taken prisoner—they may NOT be slain!” he directed us all. “Treat the wounded and clear a path to the surface, so we may get healer teams down here and reestablish our chain of command as quickly as possible. The battle is won, so let us be certain the WAR is yet, as well!” he told us, to which another cheer went up, his surviving soldiers treating him with not just respect, but outright reverence as well.

I could not help but smile at that. They knew my skill, but they had not known his, and word of his exploits would soon be spread throughout the Gryphon military.

Before, they had been willing to serve him. Now, they would be willing to die for him… as I already was.

As you say… well-thought and well-fought, Ambassador. Sundiver was an excellent trainer and tactician, I knew from my time under him at Epsilon, and ‘twas with great sorrow I learned he was lost that day, not knowing he yet lived. It pleases me to know that the Prelate did show him honor, as well as to all those ponies who fought and lived that day.

Such things were not always possible, particularly on our side in the initial months of the war. Victory allows for such luxuries as prisoners, but defeat and retreat does not, and thoughts of honor would soon fade from both sides as the conflict wore on and atrocities mounted. But at least here and now, ‘twas offered and accepted, and both it and the superb strategy the Prelate thought of when the Gamma garrison stormed his bunker is to his credit.

In this chapter, one raid was successful, another a failure, but both are case studies in surprise strikes and the risk-vs-reward calculation of military operations. Had the Epsilon operation failed, my base would have been lost but in the grand scheme of the war would have meant little; ‘twould have been barely a footnote in the first day battle results. But had Sundiver’s strike succeeded, methinks the entire course of the war would have been altered in favor of Equestria, depriving the invasion of its architect and the Empire of their finest military mind.

There are countless what-ifs in warfare, but I would never say the operation was not worth trying, even if it only had a two percent chance of succeeding instead of the twenty percent I give it now. The potential payoff was enormous, and I admire Sirocco and Sundiver immensely for having not only attempted it, but having nearly pulled it off.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. —Plato

Author's Notes:

A long wait and several weeks of work, but hopefully worth it! With apologies, I was not able to do a second set of graphics for the Raptor battle. I’ll come back to them later.

For those who did not see my earlier blog, the graphics are based on overhead shots of the Grand Canyon, taken from bing maps. The Grand Canyon is how I envision the pony/gryphon border canyon, and having visited it—it truly does live up to its name!—I used what I remembered to design and detail the course of the battle.

As all prereads from Leo Archon, AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire and Denim_Blue are in and I’m generally satisfied with it, I’m letting you have this a day early. Enjoy!

Part 11 - Resist and Fight

There are times I am asked if, during the war, I ever despaired of the result or entertained thoughts of giving up. And as much as I would wish to answer neigh, ‘twould be the basest of lies to say. The truth is that yes, there were times my resolve faltered, even on the invasion’s very first day.

To be a soldier or warrior does not mean you never entertain doubts or harbor feelings of despair, and as the gryphons readied their retribution for our sneak attack, one that promised our annihilation, I was forced to confront the one choice a commander never wishes to face: surrender or die; give up or watch the battalion I so loved and had spent so much time building and training be slain to the last.

Methinks war is the most inharmonious act imaginable, and yet, that did not mean that Harmony could not find us in it. ‘Tis certain I had never believed in ‘Harmony’ as a living force before that day, and though I’d certainly heard stories of ponies spontaneously breaking out into song, ‘twas certain that I never thought such a thing could ever happen to me. And certainly not whilst facing the gravest of threats imaginable.

Wingblade’s Edge

Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 1^st, 1139 AC
2315 hours

Our elation over the successful attack on the gryphon assembly area was short-lived.

For better and for worse, the surprise strike had the desired effect as the Talons immediately brought up additional forces and began hemming us from all sides, rendering it impossible for our storm teams to get off more than one or two bolts before lobbed crossbow volleys made their positions untenable, forcing them to retreat back into the fog. As darkness fell, over a thousand soldiers were surrounding us from both the sides and above, sky gryphons orbiting in centuries from a distance whilst the earth gryphons gathered on the ground below, behind ridges.

The Knights were massing as well; by mid-evening patrols reported they had scraped together a full century of elite soldiers along with three more mages. They were already feinting strikes at us with the former under the protection of the latter, using wind spells to disperse the fog and shove the lightning-charged clouds hidden within them aside on approach, forcing us to keep shifting our own soldiers to match and preventing anypony from getting much rest.

‘Twas the right strategy to mentally and physically wear us down, as we knew not when their sudden lunges at us might be real and thus had to treat them all as a potential attack. Despite their wind spells, we were maintaining our fog cover as best we could, though at the rate we were burning through our clouds to keep the normally dry desert air saturated and our base hidden, we could sustain it for no more than another eight hours before our storm cloud cache was exhausted…

And once it was, our lives would likely be measured in minutes given the overwhelming force they were massing against us, lacking both cover and the heavy weapons we needed to defend against large-scale attacks.

Thus, despite our successes and given the fact ‘they had now set the better part of half their legion against us, our fate seemed sealed without reinforcements, which was highly unlikely at best. As such, I was surprised when a gryphon patrol approached under flag of truce not long before midnight. They requested parley at the canyon rim, on the condition that we cease lightning fire for the duration.

Uncertain what they were up to, but also hoping it might both buy time and give some inkling of what they were planning, I agreed. Leaving Snow Squall in charge again, I flew out with one of Blindside’s squads to the edge of the cliff, just outside the worst of the fog, taking along Fell Flight and Master Sergeant Stormrunner to represent the Celestial Guardspony contingent.

We did not have long to wait as a score of gryphons flew in, mostly Talons along with several Knights and one mage in the mix, facing us in a loose formation under the light of their mage’s staff. Their armor was worn but arms were sheathed at my instruction, warning that any drawn weapons or resort to the mock-attack theater they normally performed at parleys would be taken as a hostile act.

Given gryphon concepts of honor, I did not expect it to be an ambush, but as a precaution I positioned storm teams behind us deeper in the fog, ready to slay our assailants at my signal or the first launched arrow if it was.

As our two improvised formations faced off from twenty paces apart, the gryphon commander broke ranks first, a sky gryphon eagless walking towards us wearing a silver-hued steel chestplate and black command chain coupled with matched metal vambraces and pauldrons; the latter accented by an inscribed eagle feather—the textbook armor and insignia of a Talon Tribune.

“Greetings, Commander Firefly. I am Tribune Rialta,” she introduced herself in excellent Equish, saluting me in the gryphon manner, “Second in command of the 18^th Talon Legion. I am here because my superior, Legate Galea, wishes me to offer you Honor.”

“I see,” I told her, returning the gesture but speaking with deliberate disdain. “In that case, since your superior sees fit to only send his second, methinks you will speak to my second instead of me. Master Sergeant?” I called behind me, stepping back and inviting Fell Flight to step forward. Which she did quite gladly, walking up and going nose to nose with the eagless, flaring her wings and locking gazes with her, trying to intimidate the gryphon female with her larger stature and slitted eyes.

“Well? What is it?” My hot-blooded second demanded after the eagless seemed to lose her nerve for just a moment in the face of Fell Flight’s size and predatory stare, to say nothing of her bloodied wingblades. “State your business and be quick about it, Tribune! The sooner we dispense with these useless pleasantries, the sooner we can get back to the business of killing each other!”

A single twitch of the Tribune’s tasseled tail betrayed a moment of nervousness, talons moving to weapons behind her. Nevertheless, she mastered her anxiety and answered. “You and your battalion have cost us a great many casualties, Master Sergeant. We acknowledge your skill in battle, and we admit to being surprised by it.” She drew herself up a little taller as she continued. “But such skill can only go so far. You have been lucky to not receive our legion’s full attention before now, but your luck will shortly run out. In truth, my forces are furious at your tactics, as we consider the use of storm clouds in such a manner as dishonorable in the extreme.”

“Dishonorable?” I curled my lip as Fell Flight spat out the word. “You invade using tunnels, slay our generals with mind control gems, slaughter civilians at Cloudsdale, besiege Canterlot with dragons”—we had only received word of that in the past hour along with a notice of Gamma’s failed attack on Raptor; methinks I was stunned by the reports of Sundiver’s likely death—“and then you have the utter gall to complain about our use of unconventional tactics? After all your atrocities this day, methinks your side has no business claiming to be honorable about anything!” Fell Flight snarled, baring her teeth to show her thestral fangs, looking very out of place and menacing against her pony body.

Rialta wasn’t quite able to suppress her flinch at that. “Believe what you wish, bat-pony. Nevertheless, despite your distasteful tactics, we offer you and your battalion Honor—the unconditional surrender of this outpost in exchange for fair treatment and the promise to be returned to your families alive and unharmed after the war. You have proven yourself worthy warriors, but ‘tis no doubt you have seen the force we are massing against you. We have not attacked you whilst bringing up additional soldiers, but our preparations to do so are nearly complete. Fog or no, be assured you will not survive our coming strike,” she told Fell Flight, but ‘twas no doubt she was addressing me.

Fell Flight was unimpressed, giving a contemptuous snort. “Now where did I last hear that…? Ah yes! From that idiot sub-Tribune this morning who thought she could beat us with but an unsupported Talon cohort and a single crossbow volley!” my second replied; I must admit that I was immensely enjoying her verbal dismantling of her gryphon counterpart. “You can take your offer of honor and feed it to your crows, Tribune! Be assured that we will not forsake our duty or surrender this outpost without a fight!”

“You have already put up a fight and inflicted severe losses,” Rialta tried again, her tail flicking in agitation as she visibly struggled to maintain her composure; we didn’t know at the time she was partially responsible for that debacle by not preventing Sub-Tribune Yalis from attacking without orders. “You have fought well and already done all that honor requires. So why continue when you cannot win?”

“Because unlike you, we are not motivated by honor, Tribune.” To my surprise, ‘twas Stormrunner who answered, stepping forward past me. He rarely said much, but when he did, his words were best heeded. “We fight because we are soldiers of Equestria, charged with her protection and defense. We fight because ‘tis our duty—because we have pledged our lives to our nation and princess, and we cannot fulfill that pledge as prisoners,” he said, starting to speak more fervently. “We fight because every soldier we slay here is one more that cannot invade or threaten our nation. Because every moment we delay you here means your timetable slips and your invasion falters!” he finished, leaving us all with prideful, determined smiles by the end of his speech.

“Well said, Celestial Guardspony. Except for one minor point.” This time, ‘twas one of Rialta’s subordinates who stepped forward and spoke; an older and larger earth gryphon tiercel garbed in the gold armor of a Knight Centurion who spoke accented Equish. “‘Twould seem you proceed from a false assumption of your own. You think we fight for honor? Hardly. We fight for our side no less than you, and we know that we risk annihilation from your alicorn princess for doing so. But we are taking that risk—not for glory or honor, but to save our race and our nation. To overthrow your princess to ensure she cannot go mad like her sister and destroy not just our Empire, but the world entire!”

“How dare you…” Methinks I had never seen Stormrunner so angry as he snorted his indignation and pawed at the ground. “So this is why you invade? Having served at the side of My Princess for nearly a decade, I know her well and can say with certainty that the danger you describe does not exist! Methinks I would challenge you to a duel for your slander, Centurion, but ‘tis certain circumstances alone will settle the matter soon enough!”

The large earth gryphon lowered his head. “I am Centurion Cassian Nael of the Fortis Knights, and I will accept your challenge at any time, Guardspony!” He drew one of his two battle axes and pointed it at Stormrunner, who deployed his wingblades in response, looking ready to issue one right then and there. “In fact, why wait? Methinks we can duel here and now, if you wish!”

I immediately headed it off by stepping between them, though I couldn’t help but note the irony of a mare stepping between stallions to break up a fight before it began. ‘Twas usually the other way around in Equestrian culture given our mare-heavy society; stallions could stop fights between mares simply by interposing themselves and triggering an ingrained mare instinct to not endanger males.

“Stand down, Master Sergeant. ‘Tis not the time,” I told him sternly, glaring him back before returning my attention to Rialta. “He speaks for all of us, and thus, methinks you have your answer, Tribune. We will not surrender!”

“That is your decision, commander. But is it that of your soldiers?” she asked me, looking rattled despite her best efforts. “Do they wish to die for a hopeless cause?”

“That it is hopeless is a matter of opinion, Tribune!” I retorted.

“Is it? Then perchance you wouldst allow me to enlighten you of certain facts, Commander Firefly,” Rialta began, raising her voice so that the squad behind me could hear and sounding at least a little more confident. “As of this parley, your battalion is now the only remaining Equestrian border force that remains west of your Outpost Omega, which is being assaulted even as we speak. Under Legate Galea’s leadership, and mine before his, our legion has destroyed every other Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps base in this sector, leaving you with no chance of reinforcement or relief. You have won two fights, but in the end, you have only inconvenienced us, and the losses you have inflicted on our legion are far from crippling.

“In short, you cannot run and you cannot win. You face not just the Talons, but the Knights now, and believe me when I say that when we strike again, the mistakes of this morning will not be repeated. You will fall here without a doubt, slain to the last pony, and none will know of your victories or stand!”

“We care not,” I told her sharply but succinctly. “We decline your offer, Tribune.”

Rialta stared at me in disbelief. “Perchance I did not make myself clear, Commander. If you choose to fight, you will die!”

“And perchance you are hard of hearing, as the answer is no!” Fell Flight hissed at her, the seemingly unnatural sound coming from an equine causing the eagless to take an involuntary step back, to the frowns of her subordinates, most notably Nael himself. “Methinks further discussion is pointless! I say we are done here, Commander!” my second suggested.

“As do I, Master Sergeant. Do your worst, Tribune,” I told her as I turned to leave, my voice calm in direct contrast to Fell Flight’s browbeating. “But do not expect a quick or easy victory.”

Despite our threatened departure and her visibly frazzled nerves, Rialta made one last attempt, perchance aware she was losing face in front of her forces. “And what of your son, Commander?” she called after me, stopping me short. “Yes, we know of him. Despite his treasonous acts, we would spare Gavian Ravenoff as well and even allow him to stay with you in captivity. But if you choose to fight? He will receive the treatment of all traitors, beginning with a public tribunal and ending with his head on a spike!”

With great deliberateness, I turned back to her and locked gazes with her; with my emotions roiled and both warrior and motherly instincts asserting themselves, whatever she saw in my eyes made her swallow. “You will die before that happens, Tribune. And he would rather die than be returned to the Empire that thought his talents useless and very life worthless,” I informed her, my voice calm but ice cold. The latter was no idle boast; he had sworn he would not return to the Empire, pledging to fight and die at my side the night before.

“Ah yes. He is an artist, we are told.” Nael all but sneered, though given the glance he shot at the Tribune, I was given cause to wonder whether ‘twas more directed at the idea or at Rialta’s less-than-inspiring performance at the parley. “The Empire has no use for such softness, and it disgusts me that you encourage it in him. But perchance ‘tis for the best. We are warriors, after all, and those who cannot fight have no place in gryphon society. Such refuse as he is best cast aside.”

“I can fight!” a male gryphon voice called out from behind me, causing my head to whip around as Gavian himself suddenly flew forth to stand by me, a surprised-looking Swift Strike belatedly rushing to his side. “And if you wish, Centurion, I’ll prove it to you right now!” he told them in the near-perfect Equish he’d acquired since the start of the year, having mastered our language in a mere matter of months.

“Gavian!” I had a moment of real panic when I saw him, fearful of their reaction to him, and he was indeed met with narrowed eyes and angry tail lashes as they saw him wearing purloined blue-painted Talon armor and wielding a stolen Raven scimitar. “Sky Sergeant, what were you—?”

“Sorry, ma’am. He was afraid ‘twas a trap and if so, you might be slain and he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his oath to die with you. He insisted on watching, and then he burst forth by himself when he heard that,” Swift Strike explained shortly as Gavian began engaging the Knight Centurion in his native tongue.

The two exchanged words in Aeric for a bit, initially amused tones from the large tiercel clashing with increasingly angry and forceful ones from Gavian. I only knew a word or two of Aeric then, picking out “honor” and “warrior” at various points. But whatever was said, their talk ended with drawn weapons and a final sharp exchange of words, Gavian pointing his Raven blade in goading challenge at the Knight Centurion, who for the first time showed genuine anger, snarling sharply and hefting his axe, looking ready to slay the much smaller Gavian on the spot.

Fell Flight grinned as Swift Strike grimaced, both knowing the gryphon language as they did. “What did he say?” I asked the latter in little more than a whisper.

“In blunt terms… Nael told him ‘twas in his best interest to surrender and Gavian told him to go rut his mother, ma’am,” Swift Strike answered in equally low tones, speaking in his distinct Trottingham accent. “He also renewed his oath to die defending you and all Equestria before he would return to the Empire.”

“That’s our lad!” Fell Flight said approvingly, going up beside him and putting an affectionate wing over him. “At least there’s one honorable gryphon here!” she added, insulting the Imperials even as she complimented Gavian, escorting him back to our lines.

Unable to suppress my own grin, I moved up to flank him, putting my wing over him as well. “You have your answer, Tribune. If this is to be our end, be assured that ‘twill be paid for with rivers of gryphon blood.

“And be assured that should we meet in battle… whether ‘tis by my blades or my son’s, you will fall first!” I warned her, having already taken her measure and found it wanting, both as a soldier and commander. Methinks I sensed that Nael was going to be a problem, however, as he appeared to be a skilled and veteran warrior.

An appraisal that was confirmed as he stepped towards me, ignoring Fell Flight and Stormrunner. “Bold words, Commander. Though I find him without honor and the idea that he can fight laughable, I acknowledge your so-called son’s devotion to you is real. But I cannot help but wonder if ‘tis shared by your subordinates.” He nodded behind me at Blindside’s squad, which was standing silent but listening, their thoughts unreadable.

“Perchance your son will fight because he has nowhere else to go. But your soldiers do. I wonder if they are so eager to sacrifice their lives for a lost cause? In fact, why not put the question to them?” he called out so they could hear. “Methinks that more than a few would take our offer to surrender if it meant one day seeing their families again.”

My eyes narrowed at that. “Nary a one would, Centurion,” I told him, desperately trying to quash a sudden and very unwelcome sense of doubt. On the face of it, I didn’t think many or even any would, given how closely we had bonded as comrades over the past year; those malcontents who had no stomach for combat or the severe training I had given the battalion had left long before. And yet…

He smiled almost sweetly at that, perchance recognizing my uncertainty. “Then methinks there is no danger of putting the choice before them,” he told me, resheathing his axe before walking right up to me between an incredulous Stormrunner and Fell Flight, who did not stop him from going nose to nose with me, trying to intimidate me with his larger size and battle-tested physique as Fell Flight had his tribune.

Though his effort was in vain—I’d faced Guardsponies as large as him without flinching—he had a powerful presence and his very manner spoke of great confidence, one borne of long battlefield experience and all the acquired warrior skill that came with it. He held my gaze for a moment, testing my nerve before speaking again, his tone both commanding and contemptuous.

“We have offered you Honor, Commander—an offer that will be rescinded if ‘tis not accepted shortly. By order of Legate Galea, you have until midnight to surrender your force. That leaves you just half a hora in which we will not attack unless you do,” he told me, using the gryphon term for hour. “Thirty of your minutes during which your soldiers and even your son, despite his insults to honor, can emerge safely without weapons to be taken prisoner. Thirty minutes… in which you can give your soldiers the option to be spared.

“And then? We will simply slay whoever is left!” He smirked, leaving me in some admiration at the size of his decidedly non-equine apples. “Perchance it will cost us another century or two of casualties given the skill of your soldiers, but as the destruction of your battalion will bring us closer to winning the war and ending the threat of your power-mad princess, be assured that ‘tis a price we are willing to pay!”

He then turned to Stormrunner upon hearing his angry snort. “And as for you, Guardspony…” He went nose to nose with his stallion counterpart next; twas only when they were side by side that I noticed the slightly duller shade of the gold Knight armor compared to the bright gold of the Celestial Guard. “Surrender or no, if you wish to defend your precious princess’ honor, I will be more than happy to provide you a duel field for it! Face me in single combat… if you dare,” he offered without any hint of hesitation or doubt that he could win, and then turned on his leonine heel to leave, but not before calling back one final warning.

“You have until the mare in the moon reaches her apex in the sky, Commander Firefly,” he said with a nod at the blood-red moon hanging overhead; the ominous hue an announcement by the princess to all ponies that Equestria was at war. “Fail to surrender, and that means you, your son, and your entire force die. Choose wisely,” he advised us, at which point he departed along with the rest of the gryphons, leaving us alone on the cliff edge.

The short flight back to base through the fog was spent in silence.

Despite all, Nael’s words had had their effect, and I found myself contemplating the unthinkable—the surrender of my force. We had fought well, but I feared he was right that to continue to do so would be to sacrifice it to little real end. We had already bloodied them badly, but what was another century or two of gryphon troops in the general scheme of things? And though I was fully willing and in fact intended to fight and die myself, what right had I to ask my entire battalion to sacrifice themselves along with me; fight to the death in a futile last stand?

Thus, after some subdued discussion with those who had been present at the parley, I recalled all patrols, ordering my battalion to assemble in the fog on the main drill field in platoon formations; ‘twas five minutes before all were present and accounted for. “Soldiers of Outpost Epsilon! Listen and take heed!” I called into my blue command gem, not knowing how I was going to say what I needed to say.

I began by reciting our current situation, telling them that we were now all that remained of the Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps border forces this side of Outpost Omega, which was now under attack and likely to fall by daybreak. I emphasized that our rescue or escape was now all but impossible, and with Canterlot besieged by a clan of dragons, Our Princess would not be intervening. We were on our own, and increasingly unlikely to survive the night.

“You are the finest soldiers and battalion a commander could ever wish for. I am proud of each and every one of you, for your resolve and superb performance in battle this day. But now, a great and very grave decision is upon us,” I told them. “We have won two victories, but with over a thousand gryphon troops waiting to attack us outside the fog, our continued survival seems impossible.

“The gryphons have offered us honor,” I told them through gritted teeth, “and I believe their offer is genuine—fair treatment if we surrender, with the promise to be returned to our homes and families unharmed after the war.”

I wasn’t sure how to take it when nopony spoke or moved, aside from a few frowns and darting eyes, individual soldiers looking at each other to appraise the feelings of their comrades. ‘Tis my choice to fight and die, but it may not be all of yours,” I told them. “Thus, I will not make to stay and fight an order. Thus, any who wish to surrender… may.” I closed my eyes and lowered my head as I spoke the final word, awaiting and fearing the first pony to step forward, strangely certain ‘twould likely lead to many more.

A Son’s Plea

To my surprise, ‘twas not a pony who spoke up first, but Gavian. “Mother?” He flew up beside me. “May I speak?” He bared his throat politely, holding out his paw for my blue command gem.

At that moment, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Gavian…” I was not quite able to keep my voice from breaking even as I passed it to him. “They have offered you honor, too…”

“Crows take their honor, Mother!” he spat out the Gryphon invective with great vehemence, causing me to jerk my head up in surprise. “They have none!”

His shout had gotten everypony’s attention, and he now made the most of it, taking flight and hovering twenty feet overhead where all could see him, speaking into the gem. “Listen to me, all of you! When I first came here, ‘twas as your enemy; a wretched raider who joined only because he had no other choice and no place to go,” he began. “I yearned for a home and acceptance above all else, but I did not find it there or any place in the Empire!

“But for all my worthlessness and wretchedness back then, you accepted me! It took time, but you all did! And for it, I would fight not just for Equestria, but for every last one of you!” he promised us, his fervor having a noticeable effect as my soldiers were starting to stand up straighter. “You fed me, you schooled me, you let me practice art and even taught me how to fight, letting me learn to become the warrior I always dreamt! You did everything for me my own kind and nation would not! You took me in whilst my own kind cast me out! And now, I see from your faces that some of you contemplate surrender?” he asked, aghast.

“I came from the Empire, and methinks I know only too well what they would do should they win this war! The rule they would impose is one where art is unknown, where only warriors are valued and where parents abandon six-year old cubs for being too small!” His voice quavered as he spoke. “Is that what you would have them turn this rich and wonderful nation into? Subjects and slaves to a race whose leadership looks upon ponies as little more than meat?” he demanded to know, tears in his eyes.

“No!” the resounding shout came back.

“Then you must fight!” he implored us, then turned to me. “I swore an oath, Mother! I swore an oath to Princess Celestia herself that I would be loyal to Equestria! I swore an oath to you that I would fight and die at your side if fate decreed it! And I take none of it back!” he announced as he drew his Raven sword, which he had come to wield so well. “The Centurion was wrong—I do have other places I can go, but I choose to stay here! To fight and die with all my friends and family—with all of you!”

He waited for the huzzahs to die down before turning his gaze on Flight Sergeant Osprey, perchance indicating his next words were meant for her ears. “Six soldiers died in a raid defending me. On this night, I repay the debt... with my own blood!” he announced, holding his sword high as Osprey bowed her head. She had once hated him for the loss of two friends in that raid and accepted an offer to duel him to the death for it, but he had bested her with his newfound sword skill, sparing her life on the condition that she apologize to me and engage in training with him.

She had been good to her word, and though her warming up to him was not instant, she would now defend him with her life. In fact, they all would, and just as Nael’s words had deflated us, Gavian’s sent our spirits soaring.

“Well said, my brave and loyal son,” I told him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you. We needed to hear that. And methinks there is nothing I can add to it… except that I would sooner die than allow the future he describes to pass! I am fighting! Now who is with me?” I asked, feeling far more confident in the answer.

“I am, Ma’am!” Fell Flight announced first to little surprise, stepping to stand at my right hoof. “For me, there is no choice! Fighting is in my blood, and I will not sit out the war in the forlorn hope that all I love will survive without me!” She proclaimed loudly, then her teeth clenched as she stared down at the ground.

“My home city has been struck. My family might be slain. My command and comrades at Omega are lost. My coltfriend in Baltimare might already be dead. I know not their fates; all I do know at this moment is what I still have and what lies in front of me—my base and battalion! And I will not surrender either! I intend to slay as many gryphons as I can this night to make sure the harm they have inflicted on all I hold dear is avenged!”

“Well said!” Flight Sergeant Osprey shouted and stepped forward next. “Methinks you aren’t the only one hurting over Omega, Master Sergeant. Those of us who served there with you saw plenty of action and too many of our friends fall. We knew to expect attack or death at any time!

“But for it, we didn’t back down to raiders or even Red Talons, and we will not cower before the gryphons now!” she proclaimed, to sounds of agreement from the other members of the three former Omega squads that made up her veteran platoon, who stepped forward as one. “If our sisters at Omega are fighting and dying, then we can do no less! For Omega, for our lost comrades and for our endangered families back in Cloudsdale, to say nothing of all Equestria—I say we fight!” she said to the cheers of her platoon, then turned to her right, to the next platoon in line.

The leader of that platoon actually chuckled. “Methinks hopeless fights and last stands are something they don’t teach you about at the Equestrian Officer Academy, ma’am,” Second Lieutenant Snow Squall told me, then turned his eyes up towards me, resolution in his gaze. “They only teach you to think in purely tactical terms of how you balance the need to both preserve your own force and inflict the maximum possible casualties on the enemy. But if one is not possible? Then you must maximize the other!” he noted, nodding in satisfaction to himself; methinks he’d found his own rationale for our continued resistance at that moment.

But he wasn’t done yet, raising his eyes back to meet mine. “So maximize it we will! Methinks we still have plenty of fight left, ma’am! I have not been at Epsilon long, but ‘tis certain I have been very impressed with it, both with the quality of its soldiers and their leaders! ‘Twill be my honor to fight and die with you, not as an officer or base commander but as the simple soldier I once was!” he proclaimed, followed by his entire platoon announcing their intention to stay, raising their wingblades to the skies along with him.

“You don’t even have to ask me, Ma’am,” Master Sergeant Stormrunner said next from the head of his platoon. “I couldn’t just give up. Not when there’s plenty of gryphons left to kill and that insulting Centurion to slay!” he said to the hoofstomping approval of his own platoon.

“If he’s fighting, we’re fighting!” one of his squad leaders called out, the mares of his platoon obeying their instincts to defend stallions at all costs. “Methinks we’ll spill so much gryphon blood they’ll wish they never invaded!”

All that left of my four combat platoon leaders was Blindside, who looked up at me with her one good eye, which was glimmering. “I’ve been with you here since the beginning, ma’am, and methinks I’ll be damned if I leave you here to die alone!” she proclaimed with a stomp of her hoof—she and her original squad had come with me to Epsilon on the same transport so many months earlier; she’d been there as long as I had.

“You know how I feel and where my heart lies, ma’am—you saved me, and ‘tis certain I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned you now. I cannot speak for my platoon, but in life or in death, I’ll follow you to the gates of Tartarus!” she said with a salute.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” I returned the salute and bowed my head at that. Blindside had admitted she’d had feelings for me but a month earlier, a consequence at least in part of my saving her life in the Hearth’s Warming raider attack Gavian was captured in. ‘Twas a desperate and forlorn declaration of love, given the battalion was breaking up to spread its acquired skill throughout the Corps. Knowing she could no longer stay with me, she had accepted an offer to join the Black Lances, who had recruited her for her otherworldly awareness of her surroundings she’d developed to compensate for her lack of two good eyes. “It means much to me.”

“We’re with you too, ma’am!” her second squad leader, Corporal Shrike, spoke up. “I have heirs, and I’ll die to make sure they don’t have to live as slaves under gryphon rule! We’ve all faced death already, both today and during last year’s raids! We’re ready to do so again!” he proclaimed, stomping his hoof and flaring his wings for emphasis. A rare combat-assigned Corps stallion, he’d slain his first gryphon at the same engagement I did and gone through the same soul-searching afterwards, requiring time with his herd to come to terms with it. But come to terms with it he had, returning a veteran soldier and taking Blindside’s place as her platoon’s 2nd squad leader.

“I’m in as well, ma’am,” Swift Strike spoke up from beside Gavian. “Methinks I’ve cheated death so many times by now that ‘tis no use running from it. ‘Tis also not in my nature to surrender—the Lances complete their missions or die trying! And besides, I have not yet had the opportunity to engage the gryphons myself.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “’Tis time I do so. I will fight and die this night not as a Lance, but as a regular Corps soldier!”

“Thank you, Sky Sergeant. I cannot help but feel regret, though…” I said almost wistfully.

“Regret, ma’am?” Swift Strike asked.

“Regret,” I confirmed. “After all the time you spent training me, and after all the times we sparred, methinks I will fall here without ever having bested you!” I announced to an eruption of laughter from both the Sky Sergeant and the rest of my assembled troops. The sound itself was very heartening, and I felt my chest swell with pride at the devotion to duty and desire to fight on that I was hearing.

“Ma’am? If I may?” Sergeant Herbal Balm, the leader of our six-unicorn healer team spoke up, giving me some pause—’twas certain that if any unit members wished to surrender, ‘twould probably be our healers, who preferred to be pacifistic and had only learned the killing arts at my direct orders months earlier. “We don’t want to die and we don’t want to kill. ‘Tis not in our nature, and we hated you for forcing us to master these,” he told us, motioning with distaste to the longbow and quiver strapped to his back.

“But you asked us then if we relished the idea of watching those in our care cut down without reason or mercy, showing us the graves of those who died here before us, unable to defend their patients. You asked us if we would trust in the good intentions of our enemies, and the answer… is no. I do not trust this offer. And even if I did, methinks I see no future of being allowed to care for others in captivity, for they would restrict our magic and prevent us from tending patients.

“I hate fighting, but methinks the only thing I hate more than it… is the thought of the gryphons winning and watching them from afar as they conquer my country, slaying my friends and family. We’re with you, ma’am! Our bows are yours to command!” With that, the six healers levitated their longbows as one.

“S-so am I!” I heard a surprisingly familiar voice, looking down to see… a heavily bandaged Sky Sentry listening, standing with the aid of a healer, wearing a spare Corps combat uniform with his Guardspony armor battered into uselessness; only his red sergeant stripes from them remained, now clipped to his shoulders. “I already watched one outpost slain to the last, ma’am! I couldn’t save them and should have died with them, but… I’ll die here with all of you!” He couldn’t quite keep the catch from his voice as he spoke.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” My heart went out to him, leaving me wondering again what Tartarus he’d been through; he hadn’t been willing to tell me when I’d seen him again after he’d gotten out of surgery, only asking me to stay with him and hold his hoof—which I’d done until he’d fallen asleep again, as I found mare instincts to protect a stallion perchance asserting themselves for the first time.

“Well, ma’am…” Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt was the last to speak; he’d been conferring with the six teams of his weather platoon whilst the others were speaking. He’d always struck me as a rather laid-back stallion but ‘twas no doubt in my mind he was good at his post, training his teams well and knowing the skies inside and out. “Methinks we’ve had a good run. If it ends here, so be it. But you know... it strikes me that we still have all these storm clouds, and ‘twould be a terrible shame to not use them…” he told me with a rather evil gleam in his eyes, one soon copied by his subordinates.

“We have ten minutes and half our cloud cache remaining, and thanks to the fog, also a very warm and saturated atmosphere to work with—perfect storm fuel! So if Fell Flight still wishes to create a supercell, methinks we now have an excellent opportunity to do so...” He proceeded to outline a plan that would never have even been considered but for our current predicament, one that both presumed—if not hastened!—our inevitable destruction but promised to exact an enormously high price from the gryphons in the process.

“But that’s crazy…” Snow Squall said when his fellow stallion had finished, though the intrigued smile on his face belied his own words.

“‘Twould certainly be unexpected…” Stormrunner noted, sporting a sly grin of his own.

“Methinks I like it,” First Sergeant Still Way closed his eyes and smiled serenely. “’Twould be an end worthy of song.”

“Methinks I love it!” Fell Flight replied enthusiastically to little surprise, baring her pointed teeth in her own growing and gleeful grin. “I say we do it!”

“’Twould certainly neutralize their numbers and make a mess of any attack…” Swift Strike agreed. “And we would have the advantage in such conditions.”

“Indeed we would. So be it!” I proclaimed. “As they have been so generous as to grant us the time we need, ‘tis time to turn our ultimate weapon loose!”

It took less than two minutes to organize ourselves for the effort. Throwing open the vault doors of our underground storm cloud cache, we began removing clouds as fast as we could, all but flinging them up in the fog-choked air before piling them together, fusing them into one large and growing mass. We’d practiced this several times a year in case the call came in to release a superstorm upon the gryphons, but lacking static targets, it seemed unlikely we would ever get the chance.

‘Twas the brilliance of Blue Bolt’s plan to recognize that we now did have a static target where we could guarantee the gryphons would be—our own base! If we could make the storm erupt overhead just as the gryphons struck, they would be trapped within it. So would we, but as pegasi, our wind and weather magic left us much more able to function in such extreme conditions, giving us the ability to take a large number of them with us.

In the past, we had practiced making such storms using our cloud cache and could do so with the full battalion available in the space of fifteen minutes. We had less than ten here and yet, it came easy. Part of it may have been the ideal atmosphere, but even allowing for it, our efforts were far more efficient than they should have been. We were resolved to die here, and somehow, ‘twas an incredibly liberating thing. All that mattered now was our task:

Build the storm and, using the promised midnight attack on our base as a lure, trap and slaughter the gryphons within it, taking as many of them with us as we could.

Sabaton: Resist and Bite

Unable to help, as earth ponies could not manipulate clouds or weather, Spear Sergeant Steelheart began pounding out a rhythm on a set of drums owned by our earth pony maintenance crew. Trapped there by the sudden invasion, the generally blonde-maned and bearded crew themselves took up their instruments in support of Steelheart whilst Gavian helped the healers move their patients and equipment into the quickly vacated vault, which would become both our infirmary and our final redoubt. As the pounding beat of the drums took hold, the band began playing a very compelling martial melody. I felt a strange surge of energy within me, and then...

To my great surprise, I began to sing right into my blue command gem in time to the music as we went to work!

I recited our situation lyrically, stunned at how smoothly I could do so. Doubly so when my busy soldiers answered as one.

They rejoined together. I didn’t know how ‘twas happening, but the words somehow suggested themselves, and I sung them like they were as familiar a melody to me as one of the old drinking songs I’d learned at the Aching Drum, my favorite pub when I was growing up in Spur:

Again, my soldiers answered in the same song, even as they continued to dig out storm clouds and assemble them, a few going to form a battle line to stop the gryphons from interfering whilst the rest were piled into a single mass, fused together and steadily expanded outwards and upwards.

They rejoined, their thoughts clearly matching my own, taking strength from the song and their own resolve.

My soldiers announced their agreement quite forcefully as we began building our supercell in earnest; the music somehow only adding to our pace!

My heart swelled with pride at their declaration, watching and helping as they built a growing cumulus congestus cloud right over the outpost; Stormrunner’s platoon starting to power its updraft by drawing air in from below into its base as I assisted with Blindside’s platoon in providing the needed shearing wind from a bit higher up, just below the highest level of the fog.

The response of my soldiers was instant:

Wingblades were deployed and teeth were bared to emphasize the point as we continue to feed clouds and air into our last resort and chosen instrument of destruction. At that moment, I felt the growing storm begin to draw breath, its wind and size now increasing of its own accord and a static charge beginning to build as I launched into the next stanza:

Somehow, they even repeated my own words!

They launched into the now familiar chorus as the supercell above our heads began to explosively expand and grow, the storm clouds seeding it, gorging on the warm and humid air the fog had left below.

Now instead of just me singing the final stanzas, ‘twas myself and all my soldiers:

The song paused except for the martial melody in our minds, fed to us by the band and Harmony itself, letting us quickly and efficiently build the storm above and around us, its tower erupting both vertically and horizontally out of the fog below and sucking it all in, its twisting winds and monstrously strong updraft already tugging at the gryphons surrounding us as the storm took on a life of its own, feeding off the large amounts of warm and humid air below and rapidly expanding in breadth to cover not just our base, but the gryphons pushing in just as midnight was reached. And yet, even over the growing gale, our song was still heard clearly:

We completed the final chorus just as the Imperials struck and the first bolts of lightning began crackling through the cloud, the storm about to break in all its fury directly overhead, engulfing pony and gryphon soldiers alike.

And so we arrive at the cusp of what seemed certain to be our final stand, but ‘tis here I must lay the pen down so I may be with my father, who is about to undergo a major operation. I regret leaving it off here, but with not just myself but all of the Epsilon survivors heading to Canterlot to be there for him, none are currently available to describe this fight.

I must apologize to the readers for this, but some things are simply more important than this tale. ‘Tis not to say that others cannot speak to it, however. Whilst I am certain some of you were hoping for us to resolve the fight in this chapter, ‘tis another point of view that needs to be heard first, so I will turn the quill over to a pony who can tell it.

Thank you, Captain Firefly. And to those who read this, I bid you fair tidings.

Though Admiral Tailwind was offered the opportunity to write this section, he declined, as he is currently slated for an experimental medical procedure that, if successful, will at long last restore his ability to fly. Though there are no guarantees of success and he is now into his early seventies, he decided he did not wish to pass on without giving himself the chance to ‘feel the wind in his mane’ once more. He wants his mind to be clear for the procedure, to properly appreciate what will happen, and so ‘tis by his request that I take up the quill.

I am Shady, Commodore of Royal Navy Battle Group Capricorn (formerly Battle Group Four), though I was but a Captain at war’s outbreak. Befitting my rank, I was in command of perchance the proudest warship in the Navy, the EAS Loyalty. ‘Twas, at the time, the most advanced of our capital airships currently in service, although due to the Navy’s lack of personnel and funding, which it had to fight for in the face of apathy and resentment from the other services, ‘twas undercrewed and undersupplied when the war broke out.

Despite that, I ultimately decided that we could make a difference in this war. As those of you who have read the fifth chapter in this volume may recall, I was urged into action by the words of Tailwind, my then-first officer. And so ‘twas that, in the absence of our battle group commander and without orders from Canterlot, I took command and ordered the Loyalty and her smaller, fast-attack escorts, the Duty and the Vigil, to set sail for Outpost Epsilon, in the hopes we could evacuate the base and rescue its garrison.

‘Twas a grave decision that, during the ten hours of transit it required, left me in no little amount of doubt. As fate would have it, though, we were soon faced with the choice of not just how to proceed, but even if to proceed at all…

Master and Commander

Bridge
EAS Loyalty
Four hundred miles west of Outpost Epsilon
September 1^st, 1139 AC
2335 hours

“Captain!” Ensign Kusema called out as we skirted the north shore of the large Celestial Sea six hours into our journey, her hoof on her ear gem as she listened to the very ether around us, an ability our experimental equipment granted. The battle group, as Tailwind said before, was used as a proving ground for new ideas and technology for the weapons labs of Stalliongrad, and ‘twas to our benefit here. “Methinks I can hear gryphons now!”

“You can?” I turned to my right in some surprise. We were still nearly four hundred miles from the border; I didn’t think their communications could reach that far… or was it simply that they had already penetrated into Equestria that deeply?

“Aye, ma’am! We’re close enough that I can pick up some gryphon dispatches on their scrying networks! ‘Twould seem they don’t encrypt their communications!” She shook her head in amazement, having stayed up well past her shift to remain at her post, refusing all relief.

Methinks I could hardly blame her for that—who could sleep at a time like this, knowing we were heading to a war zone and knew not what we would find once we got there?

“Very well, Ensign. ‘Tis reassuring to know they are foals of the first order. So what are they saying?” I asked in an even voice, knowing she spoke the gryphon tongue—she in fact knew fully a dozen languages, and her cutie mark reflected it, showing crossed quill feathers writing in different scripts against a scroll. But such idle thoughts were lost as, beside me, I heard Tailwind take and hold his breath.

“That Epsilon alone still stands, ma’am!” she announced to my mingled relief and trepidation—relief that they were still alive, but trepidation that we would indeed be entering into a war zone in an attempt to save them; despite my outward calm, ‘twould be a lie to say I was not as much frightened as excited by the prospect, uncertain if my ships and crew were up to the task. “‘Tis certain my Aeric is a bit rusty, but methinks the gryphons said they have massed over a millennium of soldiers against them and given them until midnight to surrender!”

“By midnight?” A look of consternation crossed Tailwind’s features. “That’s not much time…”

“I see,” I replied, nodding slowly as I gauged our chances anew. There’d been reports from all three ships of at least a few crewmembers deserting during the long trip; pegasi flying off the decks and diving for the ground when nopony was watching and at least one case on the Duty where a dozen earth pony and unicorn crew members had commandeered a lifeboat and cast off.

Though disgusted at the cowardice, I’d allowed them to leave, as they’d likely be useless in combat anyway and be more hindrance than help. ‘Twas certain I was taking names, however, and if we survived the next few hours, I intended to have them arrested for desertion. ‘Twas Luna’s long-ago rule that the punishment for abandoning your post and duty was death, and the penalty actually remained on the Royal Navy books even after all this time. “What is the status of our ballistae and weapons lockers?” I turned to Commander Tailwind sitting at my left, keeping my ire hidden.

“We have most of our newer cannon and half the older ballistae working, and the crews are armed and ready,” Tailwind told me with a nod to Cutlass Cleave, our Mare-at-Arms, who was currently on the bridge stocking its weapons lockers. My second in command was wearing a custom wingblade on his good wing as he patted the folded crossbow strapped to his foreleg, larger and more powerful versions of the wrist-mounted concealable ones the PSD favored. “Heavier weapons including pikes and spears have been stationed at critical points throughout the ship. I ordered our pegasus squadrons to get some sleep in their gear in advance of their expected air battle, but ‘tis doubtful at best they will get much.”

“Methinks I would expect no less,” I replied perfunctorily. Tailwind and I had done all we could; the ship was now as ready as ‘twas going to be. For myself, I was armed with naught but my naval saber, whilst the bridge crew members were likewise armed with weapons that suited their tribe and talents—axes for the earth ponies, small blades and longbows for the unicorns, and wingblades and miniature crossbows for the pegasi, of whom most were assigned to our attack wing.

Some soldiers even had some weapons of their particular heritage; Sora had a neighponese blade on his back passed down through his family whilst down in engineering, I was told that Flash Fix had an old Shetland broadsword he was strong enough to wield with his mouth. ‘Tis certain none of it was regulation, but as I sported a pair of decidedly non-regulation sunshades, ‘twas simply a rule I chose not to enforce. “I want at least one more anti-boarding drill performed before we get too close.”

“But midnight is less than twenty minutes away, Captain!” Tailwind reminded me. “Drills or no, we must increase speed if we are to get there in time!”

“Our fuel reserves will dip dangerously low if we increase speed, ma’am!” Sora spoke up. “We may not have enough left to reach Ursa base on the Lunar Sea!”

“That matters not,” I replied, heading over to study the navigation maps. “As long as we can make our rescue run and then make it far enough to clear gryphon lines, we can get back by sail using wind from our pegasi, whilst waiting for our unicorns to recharge our engines. So yes, we will speed up,” I said to Tailwind’s relief, though methinks ‘twas short-lived given my next words.

“However, we will not go to Epsilon directly. Methinks we will circle around from the north instead,” I announced, levitating the navigation map of northeast Equestria and opening it before me, tracing the route I meant to follow with a quill pen.

“But ma’am!” Tailwind protested as he looked at my proposed route. “Even at flank speed, that would delay our arrival by nearly an hour!”

“But also give us a much better chance to break through to them if we hit the gryphons from the blind side,” I told him. “If we go in directly, we will have to fight through their forward forces, which will be alert and ready to fight themselves. They will see us, they will report us, and methinks we will have multiple cohorts descending upon us in short order. I do not relish that prospect, and neither should you, Commander.” I arched an eyeridge at him.

“But ma’am…” he tried again; I could tell from his frustrated expression he sensed the truth of my words. “The next gryphon attack on Epsilon is going to happen shortly! If we do not hurry, there might be nothing left to rescue by the time we get there!”

I closed my eyes, as this time, ‘twas I that was forced to acknowledge the truth of his words. Only the bridge crew knew that he was the adoptive father of Firefly, the most famous mare in the military and commander of Outpost Epsilon, but my agreeing to help didn’t extend to risking the battle group in a head-on and likely suicidal attack right through the heart of gryphon forces. “I’m sorry, Commander,” I told him, and meant it, raising my voice so the entire bridge crew would hear.

“But we can only help them if we arrive in one piece and take the gryphons by surprise, and methinks the only way we can do that is to circle around to strike them from out of the northern wilderness, where the border does not exist and where they are presumably not patrolling. If we do that, methinks we can reach Epsilon unmolested by 0430, not long before daybreak.”

“They may not survive that long, ma’am…” he reminded me again, somewhat more wanly.

“And neither will we if we go in directly, my friend,” I told him, my voice gentle but firm, praying that for once, the bad luck that had seemed to haunt my life would not affect my chosen mission or the fate of the embattled Epsilon base. “I’m sorry, but my orders are final. This is the only way…” I concluded, preparing to change course and ordering Tailwind to run a final gunnery drill, hoping to keep his mind occupied in the meantime.

After he left, Kusema spoke up again. “Captain? Incoming transmission!”

“Oh?” I looked at her, wondering who was even capable of contacting us at that point.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s from Royal Navy command at Polaris Base in Canterlot!” she reported in some shock, piping it through the crystal speakers at my instruction, another experimental feature that allowed for instant voice communication with those in possession of the same improved communication gems we were equipped with.

“Captain! This is Admiral Coral Torch!” a sharp mare voice sounded over the intercom.

“Admiral?” My jaw fell open as I recognized the commander of the entire Royal Navy, coming to reflexive attention for it. “How could you be contacting us all the way from Canterlot and in the face of dragon interference…?” As far as I knew, the presence of hostile dragons blocked dragonfire-based communications, and even without the dragons, we should have been far out of range.

“Never mind that! I’ve just been informed of your departure from Stalliongrad without orders! Where are you and just what in the name of Luna herself do you think you’re doing?” she demanded to know.

“What I prefer to think Luna herself would have approved of, ma’am,” I replied smoothly. “As there may be gryphons listening in, I decline to report my position. But what I’m doing is my duty,” I felt compelled to add. “The Navy’s duty to all Equestria!”

“Your duty, Captain, is to obey orders, and you received none! All the navy bases except Stalliongrad were struck and many airships and crews lost! We need your group intact and fully readied for action, not thrown into a half-baked plan to rescue your first officer’s daughter!” she accused, causing me to grimace. The Admiral was many things, but stupid wasn’t among them; ‘twas no surprise she’d been able to figure it out on her own. “A single Corps battalion is not worth your three ships! I order you to break off your course and divert to Royal Navy Base Ursa on the Lunar Sea at once!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I replied after a brief pause, speaking softly and bowing my head. “Methinks you can court-martial me later, but lacking orders or the presence of Commodore Catamaran, the decision to take the battle group into action was mine and mine alone. The rescue attempt needs to be made, not just for her but for the Navy and all Equestria!”

“What?” came the incredulous reply.

“As a service and a nation, we need at least one victory and one hero to rally around, and if we pull this off, methinks we will gain both!” I explained, somewhat shortly. “For what it’s worth, ‘tis our plan to return to Ursa afterwards. You may arrest me then.”

“If there’s anything left of you or your group!” she corrected in exasperation. “Even if you survive, you’ll be thrown in the brig and then out of the Navy for this, Captain!”

“Then methinks this will be no different than any other job in my life,” I told her, bowing my head again before bringing it back up. “I’m sorry, Admiral. This needs to be done and I will not divert! I will report in again if and when we’re on our way back. Shady out,” I finished, then ordered Kusema with a sharp slashing motion of my hoof to cut the connection.

The Bridge around me had gone deathly silent whilst the Admiral and I were arguing. “We’re doing this against orders, ma’am?” Sora finally asked.

“Not until this minute, but yes,” I admitted. “We had no orders to start. We do now, but I am disobeying them. And methinks you would be fully within your rights to mutiny and relieve me of command for it.

“But I ask that you do not, nor that you mention this to the other ships of the group,” I requested of them, as only the Loyalty could receive such a message; our escorts were older and did not possess our prototype communication equipment. “I am not doing this for myself, or even ultimately for Tailwind’s daughter. I’m doing this because I believe it’s the right thing to do. I wish to strike a blow for the morale of not just the Navy but of all Equestria. Morale methinks we will sorely need in the weeks and months to come.”

The dozen members of the bridge crew looked at each other, then back to me; ‘twas finally the Mare-at-Arms, Senior Starpony Cutlass Cleave, who spoke first. “I’m not happy you didn’t consult us or trust us with this, ma’am, but… given the desertions, methinks I can understand why,” she granted, hefting her namesake for a moment before spinning it around her forehoof. “We have to fight sometime, and ‘twould seem we can make a difference here at the start. I’m ready for battle, ma’am! You can count me in.”

“Me too,” Sora said. “’Tis unthinkable in Neighpon to shirk battle or retreat without a fight as the Admiral demands. Methinks I wouldn’t be worthy of my grandsire’s blade if I did!” he noted, reaching back to partially unsheathe it for a moment.

“You know, my mother told me stories of the gryphons back in the Zebra homeland, ma’am,” Kusema mused. “’Tis certain she hated them. Arrogant, predatory, and enjoyed raiding our ships and northern villages. She even said they used raider groups, just as they do here,” she further noted. “My Mother faced and fought them before I was born, so methinks I can do no less. Orders or no, I’ll fight them, too!” She bared her teeth and flashed a zebra blade at me, the unusually vibrant colors of the metal suggesting it had been alchemically treated to unknown affect. “What about you, Lieutenant?” she asked, turning to the dark-furred stallion officer at her right.

Said stallion considered that, then chuckled. “My great-grandmother passed down stories of my ancestors serving in the Royal Navy all the way back to the glory days of Luna, ma’am,” Lieutenant Aries Azimuth, our pegasus navigator, answered; with his tufted ears and more nocturnal habits there’d been rumors that he in fact had some thestral blood. “And ‘tis certain that turning back now would not be living up to them! I want the Navy to return to glory again as much as you do. So if the Admiral wishes to arrest you, he’ll have to arrest me too!” He deployed his wingblades for emphasis.

With that, the rest of the bridge crew chimed in, all saying they were in, causing me to sigh with relief—I’d been strangely certain my bad luck meant that they would indeed turn on me, but they had not, and thus, we were now committed to our course.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you,” I acknowledged with a bowed head. “And I will do my best to be worthy of your loyalty this day.”

“Altered course plotted, ma’am,” Lieutenant Azimuth reported from where he’d been looking over the map, making additional annotations of his own on it.

“The Duty and Vigil have been notified,” Kusema confirmed. “Standing by to change course on your orders.”

“Then tell them the order is given. Lieutenant Sora, come about to heading zero-three-five-by-twelve, and increase to flank speed!” I instructed, giving him our course and altitude.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” he acknowledged, spinning the wheel to bring the battle group to a more northeasterly heading and then moving the large speed control lever forward, the soft hum of the engines increasing in volume and frequency as power to the propellers was increased; the group gaining altitude slowly to where the thinner air would allow us greater speed.

I tapped a crystal on my command chair. “Flash Fix, how long to heat up the main armament crystal?” I asked.

“Were Ah anypony else, Ah’d say roughly an hour, ma’am,” our lead engineer replied. “But Ah can have it done in half that.”

“In that case, thirty minutes from now, get it warmed up. I want our newer cannons as ready as our conventional ballistae when we get in range,” I ordered, referring to the experimental magic-firing artillery that were powered from a central source and could launch balls of sheer magical force; enough to level a building or punch right through magus shields.

“Aye-aye, ma’am! Half an hour!” The speakers clicked off.

‘Twas only then, as I stared out in the darkness of the sky, the red war moon casting a ominously crimson, blood-like hue over everything, I couldn’t help but wonder if the Admiral was right and whether either we or Epsilon would survive the night.

Brave men rejoice in adversity, just as brave soldiers triumph in war. —Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Author's Notes:

Another chapter in the books! I have to say that sometimes, it’s the non-combat chapters I enjoy more, getting to engage in scene-setting and character development around the big battle sequences, which can occasionally be difficult to write.

For those of you that are interested, the Sabaton song Resist and Bite is based on the story of a Belgium infantry unit that fought the Germans as the Blitz into the low countries began, holding their position on the border against far greater numbers. Seemed an appropriate analog for Epsilon here.

https://www.sabaton.net/discography/resist-bite-lyrics/

I’m not allowed to post copyrighted song lyrics in stories, unfortunately, or I’d give them side-by-side comparison here. Regardless, hope you liked both it and the check in with the Royal Navy! Expect all hell to break loose in the next chapter, both figuratively and literally.

Thanks is due, as always, to my prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire and Denim_Blue. Special thanks goes to Leo Archon for writing the beginning and end of the Loyalty section.

Part 12 - Call of Duty

Dear readers—

I write this short introduction whilst my father, Admiral Tailwind, is in surgery, in the middle of an all-day operation that, if successful, will at long last restore his ability to fly. Though perchance ‘tis understandable that my mind is anywhere but on the Battle of Epsilon at this moment, ‘twould seem that my father was dwelling on it just a few short hours ago.

Unable to sleep as he awaited the morn and contemplating his uncertain fate to follow, and having read Commodore Shady’s entry from the previous chapter, he elected to distract himself from his fears and worries by penning his own recollections of the battle group’s approach to Outpost Epsilon. So before we begin the tale, allow me to present his writings, which he passed to me literally just before he was wheeled into the operating room, saying that whatever happened, he wished me to have and include this accounting of events in the next chapter.

I will do so gladly, and perchance before long I will begin penning the story of the battle myself for distraction as he still has several hours of surgery to go, and longer still to know if it worked.

Fair skies and following winds to all who now read this. As the hour of my long-awaited operation becomes nigh, I find myself increasingly restless and unable to sleep, having declined the relaxation and anti-anxiety spells that were offered to me. With apologies to the healers and surgical specialists assigned to me, I simply do not trust mood-altering magic and never have. I want my wits sharp and head clear for the day to come, even if I am to be unconscious during the course of it.

In truth, ‘twas a surprising parallel between my current mood and what I recalled of that first night of war that made me want to pick up the quill again, even at this late hour. That perchance I only truly understood what some of my subordinates were going through on the approach to Epsilon when I experienced it from the other side myself—knowing that they were going to enter combat soon and not knowing if they would emerge from it.

They were frightened, but determined, even in the face of possible and perchance even likely death. Death is not a likely outcome of this procedure, of course, but is still possible, and I find myself facing it with the same anxiety, fearful of the outcome.

‘Twas then I realized the fear I have now is the same fear they—and I—felt back then; afraid not of dying, but of failure and all that it would mean.

As I read through Commodore Shady’s accounting of events, including her recounting the talk she had with Admiral Coral Torch, I find myself at a bit of a loss. I was told of the Admiral’s call when I returned to the bridge, of course, as well as the Captain’s decision to defy orders. But what I did not know was that then-Captain Shady took full responsibility for the decision and did not even mention to the Admiral that ‘twas me who convinced her to make it. Had I been on the bridge then, I would not have allowed her to do so, offering myself up to the Admiral for arrest and court-martial in her place.

But Shady believed very strongly that a Captain was responsible for all that happened on her ship, and thus, my actions became her own, wholeheartedly embraced and backed. ‘Tis for that reason more than any other I became so fiercely loyal to her afterwards, as did the crew of the Loyalty itself.

Interminable Wait (from Star Trek: First Contact)

Observation Deck
EAS Loyalty
330 miles WNW of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0040 hours

I had left the bridge an hour earlier, carrying out the Captain’s orders to run another gunnery drill.

‘Twas a simple enough exercise in releasing bewitched and erratically moving practice balloons and having our ballistae target them with what we called “dry fire”, using false ammunition that would go off harmlessly and noiselessly but leave a visible trace in the air, allowing us to see if their aim was true.

Hitting them was still proving far more difficult to our crews than methinks I would have liked. Though there had been some improvement in the course of four separate drills, we had reached the point of diminishing returns: the performance of our gunners was most charitably described as passable, and I knew ‘twas not likely to improve any further before our likely battle. Our crew was tense and on edge, but perchance as Shady had sensed with me, doing the drills at least kept our minds occupied, preventing us from brooding too much about what might be happening… or would happen in the hours to come.

‘Twas just as well, methinks, given we’d already lost nearly forty crew to desertion out of the whole of the battle group, including a half-dozen pegasi from the Loyalty’s already-understrength attack squadrons. ‘Twas certain my biggest fear was that a few leaving might inevitably lead to more, but thus far it hadn’t happened, though our intimidating air wing leader, Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight, perchance had a part in that with regard to her flyers.

After the first few desertions, she’d pulled all her squadrons into their large ready room and told them that any ponies who were even thinking about following them would answer to her; that she was fighting and would brook no cowardice—that she’d “come after them from Tartarus itself!” if she had to, and somehow, nopony doubted she could.

In theory, our century-and-a-half-sized air wing served two purposes: the first was to provide close defense against the swarming attacks of Gryphon or Harpy raiders, whilst the second was to be able to launch strikes against enemy air and ground forces ‘over the horizon’, giving the Navy of old a much longer reach than the Aerial Corps, and weapons to match the task. They were armed with not just wingblades but two wrist-mounted single-use crossbows the Corps disdained due to their limited range and accuracy, preloaded with armor-piercing or high-explosive bolts depending on the mission.

Though their efficacy was dubious against gryphon soldiers, whose crossbows out-ranged ours and were quickly reloadable given the manual dexterity of their talons, ‘twas my hope nonetheless that they would catch the Imperials off-guard and allow our air wing to get in a surprise first strike.

Phantom Flight’s words had had their effect; there’d been no further reports of desertions and she’d drilled her flyers hard in the meantime before sending them below to snag a few hours of sleep.

I doubted they would get any; a pass through the crew berths showed none of the racks were filled. As midnight came and went, I found myself on the airship’s topmost observation deck, looking out over the receding Celestial Sea, tinted a ruddy hue by the ominous blood-red moon. Though I could not see the mare in the moon as the Loyalty’s four large dirigible balloons were in the way, their flattened oval shapes concealing the sky above, I found myself praying to the lost Princess Luna to grant her former service her favor and that we would arrive at Epsilon in enough time for it to matter.

Turning back to the east where Epsilon lay, I was surprised to see a small area of very frequent lightning flashes coming from far over the horizon, just visible in the distance; once or twice I even saw a rare blue jet or reddish sprite if I squinted my eyes just right.

I wasn’t sure what it meant—though the weather was wild over Gryphon lands, it did not look like a naturally-occurring thunderstorm to me, being as intense and isolated as it was over the distant desert sands, and ‘twas coming from what I roughly calculated to be the direction of Epsilon.

Was it their doing? A last-ditch defense, mayhap? Had they decided to go out in a blaze of glory, making the storm in an attempt to take as many of the Gryphons with them as they could…?

I knew not the answer, only what I sensed or at least desperately hoped in my heart—that my daughter and her battalion were still alive and fighting, awaiting a rescue they were certain would never come.

Regardless of the answer, ‘twould take us another four hours to reach them on our current course, and storm or no, the odds of their lasting that long seemed remote at best. But there was nothing for it—the Captain’s orders were final, and as much as I hated to admit it, her logic was sound—if we tried to reach Epsilon directly, plowing right through the forward gryphon forces, we stood little chance of making it.

Sensing myself starting to worry and brood again, I decided to head back below, but a surprising sound caught my ear—laughter. Searching for its source, I found it on the other side of the observation deck, coming from three of our air wing pegasi. They were already dressed for battle in dark blue combat uniforms instead of their usual white day ones. They were nearly invisible in the darkness against their indigo fur dye, making them look like the thestrals that once populated the Royal Navy, their sheathed blades glinting with starlight on their backs. They were trading jokes, but also drinks from a rather large flask of some sort, causing my eyes to narrow and myself to decide to approach them.

Two were mares, one was a stallion, and ‘twas the higher-ranked latter who saw me first, his eyes going wide as he hurriedly hid the flask. “Attention on deck!” he shouted, causing heads to turn towards me, and then all three to suddenly come to rigid attention and salute. “G-Good evening, Commander…” he greeted me, somewhat nervously as I stalked up to them, looming over them with my larger size.

I recognized him as Lieutenant Junior Grade Shooting Star, 3^rd squadron’s 1st flight leader. “You three are supposed to be sleeping below! What in Luna’s name are you doing out here?” I challenged them sternly.

They looked at each other before replying; ‘twas again the stallion who spoke up first. “We… can’t sleep, commander,” he admitted. “We tried; we just can’t.”

“I see…” I nodded my understanding at that. Orders or no, perchance ‘twas a bit much to ask the crew to simply turn off their minds and worries given that we were flying to war. “Very well, then, Lieutenant. And what’s on your mind?” I asked, thinking that perchance I could ease their anxieties a bit even if ‘twas impossible for me to ease my own.

“Everything, sir,” Shooting Star replied in an upper-class Canterlot accent, his eyes going distant as he stared out to the east, his gaze fixed on the distant lightning.

“Life. Death. War. Our chances,” answered the first of his flight mares, Ensign Backing Wind, another glint of lightning in the far distance catching our collective eye. “We’re too anxious to sleep, sir. We know we could die in the next few hours.”

“And how are we supposed to sleep knowing that?” the other mare of his flight, Ensign Dawn Dreamer, asked me. “With respect, I don’t want to sleep, sir. If we are to die this night, methinks I want to savor every moment I still have left, awake and in the company of my friends.”

Though I’d been about to order them below, I relented at that—how could I not? “’Tis a fine sentiment, methinks. And one that will serve you well. ‘Tis understandable to be anxious. But know that if you fight for each other as much as Equestria, be assured you will find your warrior heart,” I told them, repeating something Silent Night had said to me once.

I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing at that moment. Methinks I knew only too well that once she learned of the gryphon invasion, she’d probably return to active duty immediately; I’d be lucky to ever see her again if she rejoined the Lances.

“Warrior?” Shooting Star gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’m no warrior, sir. Methinks a warrior wouldn’t be shaking in his horseshoes, wishing he were anywhere else but here. Methinks a warrior would be hungry for battle instead of dreading it!” he said openly, visibly swallowing at the sight of the distant storm, and then went downcast. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just… methinks the truth is that though I may look the part, I’m just playing at soldier. The truth is that I’m scared out of my mind, sir. And ’tis certain I feel like such a coward for it…” He looked down in shame even as his flightmares stood closer to instinctively protect him.

“’Tis certain you aren’t,” I told him gently but firmly, putting a hoof on his chest. “The cowards are the ones who already fled. But you three didn’t. You stayed, and ‘tis to your great credit,” I reminded them all.

“But…” Shooting Star trailed off uncertainly.

“But nothing, Lieutenant,” I insisted. “Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s acting in spite of it. So I ask all of you now: Scared or no, are you prepared to fight this night?”

They exchanged a series of glances, then all nodded, if somewhat jerkily.

“Then that is all I ask,” I said, my heart warming at the sight even as it went out to them. They were scared—very scared—but were still ready and willing to do their duty even if it cost them their lives. “Tell me, Lieutenant… where are you from?”

He looked surprised at the question, perchance believing I already knew the answer. “Canterlot, sir.”

Which I in fact did, knowing full well he was the son of a minor noblepony, and as such would likely inherit his sire’s title one day. But the question was but a prelude to another one: “And why did you join the Navy?”

Shooting Star looked ashamed, but answered. “Well, sir… I joined the Royal Navy because I washed out of the Guard,” he admitted. “The Sergeant Major in charge of basic there told me I didn’t have what it takes, and he was right—I quit basic after a week.

“But I still wanted to wear a uniform. I still wanted to give my foals somepony to look up to whilst remaining reasonably close to Canterlot and able to see my herd frequently. And well...” He grimaced slightly, but still voiced his next thought. “That meant the Navy.”

I took no offense, knowing that was a very common story in Luna’s former service; far too many nobleponies chose service there so they could wear a uniform without the risk. “I see. And how about you, Ensign Backing Wind?”

She turned brooding, even angry at that. “I grew up in Cloudsdale, sir, in a broken herd with a drunkard sire and a missing mother. And for it, methinks I wanted to leave in the worst possible way,” she said.

“’Twas nothing there for me but the most menial of weather work, and I did not wish to live my life with my head in the literal clouds. I wanted to serve, but given my lack of schooling and inability to hold a job, both the Corps and Cloudsdale militia rejected me. In the end, nopony but the Navy would accept me,” she recalled. “And I am grateful to it.”

I smiled at that. “Then methinks you have something in common with our Captain, Ensign. And you, Dawn Dreamer?” I turned to the other flight mare.

“Me, sir?” She gave a nervous laugh. “Nothing but pie-in-the-sky fantasies of traveling on these airships, seeing the world from them. I was born and raised in Stalliongrad. I saw the airships there as a foal and liked them, sir. Enlisting meant I could stay near home but still see at least some of Equestria. And, well… nopony ever truly believed we would see combat.”

“’Tis true…” I nodded grimly at that. If Naval Battle Group Four had any military mission outside of being a testing ground for the weapons labs of Stalliongrad, ‘twas in fact to backstop the western frontier against the Harpy clans that lived in the rugged and rocky mountains past the plains that marked Equestria’s western border.

An arboreal and avian race who fancied themselves pirates and whose nation was most charitably described as a loose confederation of clans, the upright-walking and raptor-like Harpies were generally hostile to ponies and their more aggressive tribes occasionally mounted raids out of their mountain strongholds against our towns and villages there.

As they were but short range flyers, they tended to strike using small, sleek wooden airships of their own design and make called corsairs, launching hit-and-fly raids that, when well-planned, could be very hard for the Corps to counter.

Though inferior in flight to pegasi, they were not to be trifled with, having launched some successful—to say nothing of very bloody—raids on pony towns and farms in the past; retaliatory strikes into the mountains against them had oft gone poorly. Despite their limited numbers and resources, they were excellent shipbuilders in possession of blades and ballistae of their own; ‘twas the job of the Aerial Corps 3^rd Division to keep them in check, defending the farms and villages of the western plains against them.

But the Harpies were not who we faced just then—the Gryphons were—though perchance if I’d given it more thought at the time, I might have considered whether our sudden departure from Stalliongrad would embolden them. “Then tell me, all of you… why are you still here?” I asked them point-blank. “Why have you chosen to stay and fight when you could far more simply and safely dive off the side of the ship and nopony would ever find you?

Shooting Star looked ashamed at that. “Believe me, ‘tis certain I thought about it, sir. And ‘tis certain I still do!” he admitted with fresh shame though Backing Wind just scoffed at the notion—of the three she seemed the most ready and eager to fight. “But ‘tis also certain I won’t.”

“And why not?” I challenged. I was trying to steel him, but also genuinely curious as well.

“Aside from the fact that ‘tis certain Phantom Flight or Backing Wind here would kill me in place of the Gryphons?” He managed a weak chuckle as the other mare smiled. Then he exhaled hard and forced his eyes up to meet mine.

“Because methinks I could never look at myself in the mirror again if I did, sir. Because even if we won the war and Equestria survived the invasion, I could never look my own son and daughters in the eye if I did. Because far better ponies than me are out there right now, fighting and dying!” He pointed with a hoof at the lightning flashes far over the horizon. And ‘twas it my imagination, or were they starting to slacken?

“At least if I fall here, I do something I always dreamed of—served a greater good. Perchance then I can at least rest in peace knowing I did my duty—that I overcame my fears and fought to defend my foals and all I held dear. And perchance my foals will know that I died the soldier and warrior they fancy me to be, and remember me well.”

“Well said,” I granted, but kept to myself the thought that if we fell on the frontier this night, none might know our names or our fate. “And what of you, Backing Wind?”

“Me? Live or die, I’m ready and eager to fight, sir!” she announced, deploying her wingblades for emphasis. “Methinks I got in enough brawls back at Cloudsdale growing up to know fighting was for me—in truth, ‘twas the only thing I was ever good at. I originally wanted to join the Corps to fight, so as far as I’m concerned? I couldn’t be happier. Methinks I’m finally fulfilling my purpose!” she proclaimed. “And if I can fight with my friends at my side, helping them through it? ‘Tis so much the better!”

I grinned, happy to see it—happy to see there was at least one pegasus from our air wing with her attitude outside of their commander. Fear was contagious but so was courage; ‘twas certain that even a few like her and Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight would go a long way towards steeling spines amongst our crew.

“‘Tis heartening to hear. And you, Dawn Dreamer?”

She sighed and looked down at the deck for a moment. “I don’t want to die any more than they do. I’m fighting because they’re fighting, sir. Because they’re my friends and ‘tis certain I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned them now.”

I smiled and nodded at that. “Then ‘tis certain to me you will all do well when the time comes. If you fight for each other as much as Equestria, then ‘tis certain you will find your soldier’s spirit,” I promised them again, but then my expression went dark. “But before that… perchance you wouldst explain what was in that flask I saw?” I asked Shooting Star, my expression and voice turning stern.

He all but cringed at that, but he brought it out; a large and ornate copper flask with a cork top that looked like it had been obtained from Canterlot at some point. “’Tis filled with Lunar Moonshine, sir. Direct from the ship’s still.”

“I see,” I nodded gravely even as I suppressed another smile, then held out my hoof for it. Shady and I had heard rumors that such a still existed. But we’d never been able to find it despite repeated inspections; we suspected Flash Fix had a hoof in concealing it. “Give it here.”

“Aye, sir…” Reluctantly, Shooting Star passed it over, only to be shocked when I uncorked it, took a sniff… and then took a very long draw of it.

“Thank you,” I told him, returning it, feeling its bite and warmth immediately; though no connoisseur of such spirits, ‘twas surprisingly strong and I judged it of good quality. “I needed that.”

“Uh… our pleasure, sir.” The Lieutenant exchanged startled glances with the two ensigns.

“You’re welcome. But by my orders, you each get one additional drink of it but no more. You are all to be fully sober again by 0200,” I warned them, awaiting their nods. “After that, there is an increasing chance of enemy engagement even before we reach Epsilon, so your wits must be as sharp as your blades. General Quarters will sound then, so be ready.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” they chorused and all saluted me in new respect.

“Bully. And Lieutenant…?” I said after I returned the salutes.

“Yes sir?”

This time, he was surprised when I came to attention and saluted him! “Know that I admire your courage and determination. Know that I would much rather have a soldier who admits his fears but fights in spite of them than one who spouts mindless bravado and pretends to be something he is not. So my final orders to you are this: Fight hard and come back alive. Methinks we will need more ponies willing to fight, not less. And when this is over, methinks naval combat veterans such as you and your flight will be worth their weight in gems.”

“Aye-aye, sir…” he replied, and though surprised again, returned my gesture promptly along with his mares.

Though I did not show it at the time, this one encounter greatly affected me, both that night and going forward.

The pegasi of Shooting Star’s flight couldn’t have been more different, both in terms of how they arrived in the Navy and why they were still there; why they had not fled even facing a fight they they never dreamt would come.

A fight they sensed was likely to kill them.

But despite that, there they were, ready and willing to do their duty. Scared, but there, not for me or for Epsilon, not for the Navy or even for Equestria itself, but ultimately? For each other. For their friends and families. So they could stand tall and face themselves afterwards, or at least fall knowing that they tried to act as the soldiers they were supposed to be.

What would become of them, I did not know, any more than I know now what will become of me in the next few hours. Will the surgery succeed, or will it fail, leaving me only further crippled for it? Or worse, accidentally kill me? Am I making a terrible mistake and sacrificing all my remaining years for a futile dream of flight? I know not the answers, but I do know the risks. And now alone with dawn breaking and my fears trying to consume me, I find my thoughts casting back to those three ponies atop the observation deck whilst on our approach to Outpost Epsilon.

The healers are entering to prepare me now, so I must end this accounting here. I can only pray to Luna and the Moon Goddess herself that I can yet summon at least some small semblance of the same bravery they did that night, embracing their fate and the trials to come with devotion to duty and a desire to, if not survive, then at least prove their courage in the face of death.

Your words are as powerful as they are poignant, father.

I wish now I had been able to read this before he entered, so that I and all present could assure him that nopony would ever question his courage. For all the battles he fought and the role he played in not just the war but the years that followed, he more than earned his command, succeeding in turning the Royal Navy into a service worthy of Luna once more. I likewise pray for him; death remains a distinct possibility for such experimental surgery in one of his advanced age, both in its course and after.

‘Tis a sentiment we all share—myself, Gavian, Fell Flight, Blindside and Swift Strike are all present as well as a score of the Epsilon veterans who survived not just that night, but the entirety of the war to come.

The gryphons, too, sent a representative; Tribune Bena Jale of the Kingdom’s Navy was present to offer her well-wishes and the use of the Kingdom’s healers, as their mages learned a few things about healing wounded wings and speeding recovery we did not over the course of the war. At least one Gryphon mage is participating in the procedure, and I am grateful for his presence.

As such, it strikes me now that the war was useful in other ways—the science of medicine advanced sharply because of it, and post-war collaboration between the two sides is what made this procedure possible.

‘Twill be my final word on this chapter, as my father will—we hope—be emerging from surgery soon. I pray for his survival and speedy recovery, as well as to one day fly alongside him as I have never been able to before.

Greetings again to all my little ponies. As Firefly and her comrades remain ensconced at Polaris Base to be there for Admiral Tailwind, I will pick up the quill in their absence.

Let me begin by thanking you for sharing, this, Captain. I, too, find the Admiral's recounting of a single pre-battle talk remarkable, especially considering the circumstances. ‘Tis an account of the desperate courage and devotion to duty that so many of my little ponies showed that day, even those that never expected they would be called upon to fight; one that still brings tears to my eyes to read. My thoughts and prayers go with your father as well, and I will honor him with a royal visit as soon as possible, offering up my own power to assist his recovery.

Unfortunately, as the first day of war concluded, I found myself in a trap of both fiendishly clever and very callous design, pinned in Canterlot and unable to do more than defend it. But defend it I would, and find a way to direct my forces from within it. Communications were difficult at that point, relying on exceptionally quick and courageous pegasi evading incineration, as ‘tis certain was a planned side effect of the dragon siege. But Admiral Tailwind’s predecessor found a way around that, and ‘twas to her immense credit that she did so.

Eye of the Storm

As night fell over my nation, I raised the moon in my sister’s place, imparting it a blood-red hue.

‘Twas my sister’s tradition, and one I felt best observed, both to honor her and to let all my little ponies know that Equestria was indeed at war. My aides were already drafting a formal war declaration to be ratified by the High Council and signed at dawn the next day, but until then, there was little I could do except try to reassure the citizens of my capital city that they were safe.

At least for the foreseeable future, that was. Despite my predicament, despite being cut off from sunlight and having to expend energy to sustain the magical shield that protected all of Canterlot from the wrath of the Kalator dragon clan, the cost was not yet high enough to immobilize me entirely, and ‘twouldn’t be for some months.

Thus, whilst I was afforded the time to do so, I took the liberty of traveling the city proper in full battle armor and reassuring the citizenry that, even whilst we were at war, Canterlot was under no threat so long as I was here.

‘Twas with some regret and perchance a measure of disgust that I noted that the Prince as well as several of the ‘upper crust’ of Canterlot’s nobility seemed far too relieved at this news; the implication that other parts of Equestria were not under my protection and at the mercy of the dragons seemingly escaping them.

The merchants, guards, and other such ‘working-class’ ponies, on the other hoof, expressed far more concern; many of them had family and friends outside the capital, both in the military and out. Still, ‘twas naught I could do but offer platitudes and assurances that everything would work out in the end…

I said it even though I wasn’t sure I believed it, remembering Kalator’s taunts that I would be lying to them by doing so.

But I knew better than to let doubt or weakness show. I had spent the better part of the first day of the war at that task, dispatching the Armored Guard and PSD into the streets to keep the peace. The latter I ordered into uniform—though some insisted on wearing full body suits and hoods to hide their identities so they could resume their undercover maid and servant roles later—as we needed a show of force and their numbers could help soothe nerves as well as quell any inclination to loot or riot.

I had already come down hard on a couple crowds that appeared ready to do so, slapping the ringleaders in irons and dressing down the ponies who were thinking about joining them personally.

The task done and the streets of Canterlot more or less secure—as far as we could tell, there were no more sleeper agents; the wave of assassinations that had marked the morning had ceased—I returned to the palace gardens for some well-earned peace and quiet.

Finally alone for the first time all day, I mulled over what to do in our current situation. Without my personal support, my forces on the Gryphon frontier were more than likely overrun at this point by the massive Imperial invasion, or close to it. I could see Outpost Gamma still standing, if perchance under heavy siege, but the rest…

My thoughts were interrupted by a splash from the central fountain, heralding the arrival of a sea-green pegasus emerging from it. To my surprise, Admiral Coral Torch, overall commander of the Royal Navy, shook herself free of excess water as she stepped out of the fountain entirely, not caring in the least that her uniform, which was hardly designed for underwater work, was wrinkled and wet. She looked, to put it lightly, annoyed.

“Methinks that foalhardy idiot is going to get herself killed and her ships destroyed, and for what? A chance to rescue her second-in-command’s daughter?!” she said derisively, not immediately noticing me.

I arched an eyebrow at this. “Perchance you could explain what has you out of sorts, Admiral?” I asked mildly, causing her to jump slightly; she apparently had been so preoccupied she hadn’t even noticed me. "Further, perchance you could explain why you decided to go for a swim in my palace fountain?”

“My Princess!” She gasped and struck a hasty bow, dripping some stray water onto the grass. “M-my apologies, I wasn’t aware you’d return quite so quickly!”

My other eyebrow joined its sister’s elevation. “Quickly? Admiral, methinks I have spent the last sixteen hours making sure a riot doesn’t break out in the city. And just what have you been doing that took up that much time?” I noticed then she wore a waterproof pair of saddlebags, one of which sagged more than the other. “Does it have to do with what’s in the bag?”

Coral Torch looked chagrined briefly. “It does, My Princess. Perchance you wouldst recall that some years back, I did a favor for Queen Novo?”

At the mention of the hippogryph queen, I nodded with a smile. “Yes… and that favor earned you not just her gratitude, but the Admiralty itself, given how much you did to cement relations between Equestria and the hippogryph nation,” I noted, hoping that ‘twould yet be possible to contact their Queen and enlist her aid in our struggle.

The hippogryphs were a maritime power more than an army one, but their skills and soldiers—to say nothing of their ability to shift forms from sea creature to air one at will—could be of great use to us.

“Well, she thanked me with a pair of hippogryph artifacts,” she continued, indicating her earrings. “The first allows me to breathe underwater, and move through it freely as though it were air.” She indicated her saddlebag.

“The second is a scrying mirror that functions underwater and is compatible with the more advanced communications crystals on some of our airships. Experimentation by the Office of Magical Research shows that its range is much greater than that of our normal communication methods, save for dragonfire messages.

“Using the mirror, I was able to establish contact with the Naval base at Stalliongrad, attempting to warn them of a possible gryphon raid. On that score, at least, I am relieved to report there was none."

I nodded in approval at that. “Truly? That’s very good news, Admiral—it not only means that out battle group at Stalliongrad survives, but that we now have a way around dragon interference and can fully reestablish our chain of command! So why, then, do you seem so out of sorts?”

She shook her head. “Well, what should I learn upon contacting them, but that the battle group was no longer there—that Captain Shady of the Loyalty had taken it upon herself to order Battle Group Four to the frontier!” she said in utter disbelief.

”’Twould seem she’s heading for Aerial Corps Outpost Epsilon to rescue the Corps battalion stationed there. I have reason to believe she’s doing this at the behest of her second-in-command, Tailwind, whose daughter is the commander of that base!” she concluded in disgust.

That gave me some pause as well. On the face of it, sending three airships to rescue one Corps battalion made no sense. And yet… “By daughter, you’re referring to Master Sergeant Firefly of the Royal Guard?” I asked.

“Exactly!” the admiral nodded. “Captain Shady’s actions are incomprehensible to me, My Princess—she had no orders and no superior present, but she didn’t care! She set out on her own for the Outpost! So once I learned of this, I immediately contacted the Loyalty, ordering Shady to change course to Naval Base Ursa, but she refused! Disobeyed a direct order, My Princess! She’s guilty of dereliction of duty, abandoning her post, and assumption of authority beyond her rank! If she somehow makes it back to Ursa in one piece, I intend to bust her flank back down to recruit, if not drum her out of the service entirely!” As she spoke, her face grew more and more red from her anger, but when she finished, she sucked in several breaths to calm down.

As she did so, I pondered this. Demotion was, in this instance, the least Coral Torch could do to Shady, given the charges against the captain; I knew well what my sister would have done to those in her service who disobeyed her direct orders. And yet… as I turned over the Admiral’s report in my head, I realized ‘twas not as cut and dry as she stated. I then found my thoughts turning back several centuries, to a day long before Luna’s fall. And for perchance the first time that day since I’d been rousted to be told of a gryphon invasion, I smiled.

“Tell me, Admiral,” I said as I stood up and started to walk around the gardens; she followed quickly, falling in beside me. “Do you know of the Sun Master?”

Coral Torch blinked at the seeming non sequitur, but answered nonetheless. “Of course, My Princess. He was the greatest military strategist in Equestria’s history. His book, The Art Of War, redefined Equestrian military doctrine. It’s required reading at the Equestrian Officer Academy!”

“Indeed it is, and quite rightly. But there is much about him that is not known. So let me tell you a story of him, Admiral,” I said. “Shortly after his book was published, he and I had occasion to travel to Saddle Arabia on a diplomatic visit. The local sultan who was hosting us happened to have read the Sun Master’s work. He said he found it of questionable merit, and thus asked the Sun Master if he would be willing to demonstrate his tactics… using mares from his own harem, who had never touched weapons in their lives.

“‘Methinks if your methods are truly as good as you claim, then you should be able to make even these mares, who even I have enough trouble keeping in line, do what you wish,’ was what he said, if in the Saddle Arabian tongue.

“To his surprise, the Sun Master agreed to the challenge, on the condition that he be allowed to resort to minor military discipline were he not obeyed. So the mares were assembled in the palace courtyard and given weapons. The two mares the sultan favored the most were made officers. The Sun Master explained the instructions he was going to give them; they were basic military parade directions. When he was done explaining, he asked them if they understood the directions they’d been given, and they replied in the affirmative. Then he gave an order… and they laughed at him.”

Coral Torch snorted. “Foals. Even if they were harem mares, they should have respected his rank and authority.”

I nodded. “So I thought as well. But the Sun Master merely said this: ‘If words of command are not clear, if orders are indistinct, the general is at fault.’ “

I paused before I went on to let the words sink in. “So he then explained the directions again. Again he asked if they understood, and again they said yes. He gave the order again, but again they laughed. And this time, he said this:

‘If orders are clear and distinct, but the soldiers disobey nonetheless, the officers are at fault.’ And as, by his own methods, he found the appointed officers at fault, he ordered both of them, the sultan’s favorite mares, flogged and thrown into the dungeon.”

The admiral blinked. “That… seems rather disproportionate, for a mere demonstration, My Princess,” she said carefully. “I thought you said he was allowed ‘minor military discipline’ only.”

“’Twas a different time and place, Admiral. And for it, it was minor, considering what other punishments existed in that day.” I closed my eyes at the memories of some of the things I’d witnessed back then; things I hadn’t even blinked at that would appall me now. “Nevertheless, the Sultan thought so as well.

“He immediately told the Sun Master that no further demonstration was required, and that he did not wish to see his favorite mares punished in such a way. In response, the Sun Master gave his third maxim of the day:

“‘Having been placed in the capacity of commander by the sovereign, there are some orders which, in said capacity, I cannot accept should they contravene my sworn duty,’ he said. The two mares were then flogged for their disobedience in front of the others, and then thrown into the dungeon for a day as per his orders.

“Once their punishment was complete, two other mares were then appointed from the rest of the harem in their places. And this time, when the Sun Master gave his orders for the drills, the remaining mares obeyed without hesitation and even executed his instructions quite well. Thus, he won the challenge, and with it, great respect.”

Coral Torch was not appointed Admiral of the Navy for being slow on the uptake; I could see that she understood what I was implying. “Your point is well-made, My Princess. You are saying that having exercised her own lawful authority that her sovereign—meaning myself—had granted, Captain Shady could not accept my countermand, as it would go against what she perceived as her sworn duty,” the Admiral said heavily, perchance recalling the Captain’s words to her in a new light.

“But with respect, My Princess, I would point out that there is a significant difference between a military parade put on for a foreign power, and taking three airships into the front lines against orders!”

I shook my head. “To the Sun Master, there would have been little difference, Admiral. Captain Shady clearly felt that she was making the best decision she could in the absence of orders or a superior who could give them, and then refused orders that countermanded her decision when she was nearing her goal. She has made a very bold move, and regardless of her reasons—based on what I know of her, methinks it highly unlikely she did it for the sake of his second’s daughter alone—she deserves respect for them.

“Were the Sun Master here now, he would say that ‘twould do more damage to morale to recall her than to let her continue. That win or lose, the effort alone could pay great dividends in fighting spirit for not just the Navy but all of Equestria. And as I think about it now, I cannot but agree. In truth, should she succeed or fail in rescuing Epsilon’s garrison, ‘tis my intention to reward and honor Captain Shady for the effort just as my sister would once have done.” I said with a glance up at the sky, where I knew my sister’s hidden face stared down from above the level of the smoky pall the dragons had laid over us. “You may be assured that Luna herself would have agreed and approved of her decision.”

“Luna herself?” the Admiral looked both surprised and intrigued at her mention. “Truly?”

“Truly,” I confirmed, finding myself missing her more than ever, knowing that were she present now, the war would be over quickly; I could defend Canterlot whilst she could wipe out the gryphons and then we could turn our combined power plus that of the entire Equestrian military on the dragons. “Luna appreciated officers with initiative, Admiral. She valued two things above all else—long-term loyalty to her crown and her service, and great daring amongst her commanders and warriors.

“‘Tis certain she would not brook having her orders broken, but in the absence of them—which Shady was—nor would she punish an aggressive officer who sought to take the battle to the enemy, gaining glory for the Navy—and her—in the process,” I concluded, then stopped and turned towards Coral Torch, waiting until she had met my gaze. “I ask that you keep that in mind if and when Captain Shady returns.”

The Admiral sighed, knowing she had lost this debate. “As you say, My Princess. Still, I can’t simply let her go without punishment. She must at least face an inquiry and be severely censured for disobeying a direct order, effective upon her return from Epsilon.”

"That is acceptable," I agreed, knowing that if Shady wasn't punished at all, ‘twould set a bad precedent for the remainder of the conflict. “But let the inquiry be a fair one, Admiral, and should she succeed in her task, decorate her and the ships of the battle group,” I told her.

“For the Navy and the nation needs new heroes, and perchance her actions this night will create them.”

As I complete this section, I am told by Captain Firefly that Admiral Tailwind has come out of twelve straight hours of surgery, taxing him and his healers alike. He is unconscious and will not awake before morning; ‘tis too soon to know if it worked or there will be any… ill aftereffects of an extended period of sedation and a highly experimental operation. But my heart goes out to him, and I will shortly depart to see him, once the healers say he may receive visitors.

If I ask anything of all my little ponies, ‘tis simply this: consider what courage truly is, and what it takes to act in the face of one’s fears, particularly knowing that to act may well mean one’s death.

And consider that those who found their courage rarely did so for princess and province so much as a desire to stand by their friends and live up to the expectations of their loved ones.

“Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory:
1. He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.
2. He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.
3. He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
4. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
5. He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign.”

Author's Notes:

Welcome back to the story!

Inspiration from this chapter was drawn from multiple sources, not the least of which was Leo Archon’s writing. He wrote a large chunk of the trailing section, and in fact gave me the idea for a way I could play off it in the initial one. What’s remarkable is he wrote it without ever seeing the MLP movie, relying on descriptions of Queen Novo and the Hippogryphs from the rest of us; the latter are my favorite race from the movie and season 8.

Tailwind’s reaction to surgery is very strongly echoing my own, five years ago when I went under the knife for my jaw advancement. That was a ten-hour procedure and I had no idea going into it if it would work; there were any number of things that could have gone wrong and I had plenty of worries about doing it. But I was willing to risk it and the long recovery that would follow (involving eating out of a blender for two months) if it would mean simply being able to sleep again.

Additional inspiration was found in the MLP movie for the Harpies--for those who have not read my earlier blog; I’ve decided to make the Harpies the avian pirate race we saw there--and in Star Trek for the initial musical selection, as chosen by AJ_Aficionado.

Credit goes to him, to Denim_Blue, and to Silentwoodfire for the rapid prereads on this chapter, enabling me to launch it now. After this comes the battle itself, and once we start, we don’t let up until it concludes. You may think you know how it ends, but trust me--you don’t.

Part 13 - Cavern Clash

To the readers:

After a grueling twelve hours, two more than was planned, my father has emerged from surgery, and now we must simply wait. First for him to wake up, and far longer than that to see if the experimental procedure, one borne of pony and gryphon collaboration, worked. ‘Complications’ were encountered, we were told, though we were just as quickly assured that they were overcome and ‘all should be well’.

Unfortunately, being the soldiers that we are, we know how far such assurances can go—that there are no guarantees in life, and how quickly things can turn. His age remains a concern, as does the simple fact ‘tis not yet known what deleterious effects such an untried magical technique may have. And now, as was the worst part of far too many days during the war, we are in a waiting game, anticipating and dreading what may come.

‘Tis a helpless feeling made even worse for knowing there is little we can do except be here and offer up our hopes and prayers. So for now, just as my father distracted himself from his fears and worries by writing his recollections of that first night of war, I will do so as well, detailing the climactic Battle of Epsilon.

I would normally not think of writing about battle, especially this battle as anything approaching relaxing, but ‘twill at least occupy my mind and with many Epsilon survivors present this day, ‘twould be something that we all can contribute to. As such, the quill will be passed around quite frequently for this chapter, as many wish to offer up their recollections.

When Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt had first proposed his plan to counter the coming Imperial attack by bringing a superstorm down on our own base, Snow Squall had called it crazy. And I admit, as our surprising Harmony-fueled song ended and our newly created tempest readied to break in all its fury right on top of our collective heads, its increasingly violent winds and crackling lightning already threatening to tear both sides to shreds, methinks I was given serious cause to wonder if he was right.

Nevertheless, I knew what was coming and was prepared to meet it, and with it, our fates. What I was not prepared for, however, was the sudden word that the initial gryphon assault was coming not from above, but below, as the healer teams who had set up shop in our vacated storm cloud vault shouted into the communication gems that diamond dogs had broken into the large cavern and they were under attack. With a millennium of gryphon soldiers charging in from all sides, there was little we could do to assist, and I suddenly feared for the safety of not just our healers but our wounded and Gavian.

But if they were surprised, so were the gryphons, having not expected to find anything there but a massive but half-full underground vault of storm clouds. So to describe this part of the battle, I offer the quill to perchance the most modest and unassuming stallion I’ve ever known.

A stallion who, even well into his 60s, is also the absolute last pony you wouldst ever wish to engage in mortal combat with.

Thank you, Captain. And greetings to all readers as I contribute to this tale for only the second time in as many books.

‘Tis not that I have had little to offer, ‘tis simply that old habits die hard—much like the Ravens we so oft fought, the Lances do not speak of operations past, even long past. The only reason I feel able to offer my recollections in this instance ‘tis simply because the Battles for Epsilon are a matter of public record, not special operations that must never see the light of day.

I am Swift Strike, founding Bolt Knight member and one of the few ponies publicly acknowledged to have been a Black Lance. In this, methinks I am in some ways the lucky one; so many of my brothers and sisters who died in the war or even before it remain unsung and unremembered; their names and service records unknown except at the secret Lance monument and memorial whose location I will never divulge.

Their voices and faces live on in the hearts and memories of their comrades, however, and as I begin writing, I am reminded of the old Black Lance motto: “The only easy day was yesterday.”

In this instance, and in so much of this war, the only easy fight was the previous one.

Before we describe the events to come, I wish it known that I did not participate in either of the first two battles at Epsilon. ‘Twas simply by my choice and the commander’s orders to stay behind, defending Gavian and the infirmary, protecting the healers as they did their alternately lifesaving and lethal work. Though more than capable of aerial combat, ‘tis certain my greatest battle gifts are in close quarters, making me the ideal bodyguard and defender of critical points.

With regards to Gavian, if the commander was his mother, than I, in some strange way, had become his father for all the time I spent teaching and training him, enabling him to develop a hybrid combat style, one based on agility and quickness that would work well with his smaller gryphon build. Though perchance I already misspeak: he came up with that style more than me; I simply gave him a few pointers and a sparring partner who could instantly show him what to correct.

Methinks you do misspeak, mentor—you were my inspiration and teacher in so many ways that I cannot even begin to thank you for all you did for me. You taught me how to be a warrior when my own parents and nation cast me aside because they thought I could never be, and for it, yes, I do revere you as the father I never had.

–Gavian

Thank you for saying so, Gavian, but no amount of training or teaching would have helped hadst you not been willing to listen and learn; to put in all the time and practice it took. I am honored by your naming me the Patrinus of your new daughter and look forward to teaching her combat when the time comes.

But before the tale of the battle begins, there is a minor story I wish to relate first. ‘Tis with regret and with at least some trepidation that I must report, Captain, that I have kept a secret from you all these years. Perchance you may recall that I told you after the battle that our two Raven captives broke free of their cells and escaped just before the storm struck? With sincerest apologies, ‘twas all a lie, as the story I now relate will show.

Mortal Enemies

Outpost Epsilon
Prisoner Holding Cells
September 1st, 1139 AC
2355 hours

As our midnight deadline for surrender approached, I did not participate in the creation of the superstorm except to help fling clouds out of the vault for other pegasi to use, undrilled in it as I was. As my original posting to Epsilon had been as Black Lance Liaison, I was given the cover of Corporal Zephyr Sparrow, 5^th Division logistics specialist—a noncombatant, and thus I did not take part in combat drills except to teach Gavian and my future Captain my blade arts behind closed doors.

My identity as a Lance was not revealed until the evening before the war began, when we cornered two Ravens attempting to slay a changeling spy. The latter sacrificed herself to warn us of the Imperial invasion, delivering to us stolen war plans in hopes of protecting the nation and race that was their greatest source of sustenance. The Ravens recognized me, stating openly my true name and rank. I was able to convince them to surrender given the skill and numbers of the soldiers they faced, but ‘twas little point after in keeping up the ruse of Corporal Zephyr given I knew how readily word of my true identity would spread through the ranks like wildfire.

Now wearing my Sky Sergeant stripes and a standard Corps wingblade harness in addition to my Lance gems and throwing blades, my first order of business once the vault was empty was to see to our two Raven captives, who were manacled and to be kept in the vacated cavern as possible bargaining chips along with the few Talons we had taken alive. The latter could not escape anyway since most were too badly wounded to fight or flee, but the former…

Their expressions were sullen, and they glared at me as I approached their holding cells. Second Spear Indra Ramah and Centurion Palidor Quetzali; two elite sky gryphon Ravens who, like the Lances, ranked among the deadliest warriors of shadow either side could produce. I had been thinking long and hard about what to do with them, and I wish it known, Captain, that the decision I reached was mine and mine alone.

In any event, there was little time to consider such things—like all pegasi, I could feel the electric charge building in the air along with picking up a faint scent of ozone; the kind that proceeds a powerful storm. To leave them there would be to let them die, and though I had engaged and even slain Ravens in battle on several occasions, oft barely escaping with my life, ‘twould be a lie to say I did not respect them. Nor did I wish them to die so helplessly and ignominiously here.

Thus, whilst the storm was still being built and the non-pegasi members of the Epsilon garrison were helping move the healers and all their equipment and patients into the emptying cavern, I headed for the holding cells under orders to move them. I unlocked the door, nodded to them… and then released their restraints with a click of a gem on my belt, causing their manacles to fall free. They looked at me in some shock as I stepped back and relaxed my stance except for my flared wings with deployed wingblades, making clear any attempt to attack me for my charity would be met swiftly and lethally. Methinks they knew my service record as well as my name, and thus, they were only too aware that they stood no chance against me unarmed.

“You two are free to leave. And I suggest you do so immediately—if you’ll look up, you’ll notice we are building a superstorm with the intention of bringing it down on our own base when the Empire attacks at midnight,” I informed them both blandly, causing the pair to go very pale as they looked up to see the increasingly roiling cloud base overhead and felt the breeze pick up.

“Our chances of survival are nil, so by my own choice, I am letting you go. You will have a very small window to escape between when we finish the storm and when it breaks, so I suggest you make a dash for the canyon wall and then dive for the inner gorge. Follow it upstream and take refuge in a sheltered cliff until the storm is spent. With as much chaos as it will cause, methinks you should be able to slip away unseen. And after that...?”

I smiled thinly, waiting for several seconds to let the weight of my words sink in. “And after that, I suggest you head into the northern wilderness, away from Equestria and the Empire. Wait some weeks before making your way back across the Celestial Straits, and then start a new life with new identities somewhere secluded in Aresia. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble blending in. Should we somehow survive this night, I will report that you were slain in the storm.”

The pair glanced at each other before turning back to me, their expressions wary. “And just why are you doing this, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike?” the eagless named Indra Ramuh asked in Equish with open suspicion, sitting back and rubbing her released wrists. “Why not just leave us here to die?”

“Call it professional courtesy,” I repeated my earlier words to them I’d used to induce their surrender, the first rumble of thunder overhead providing an ominous backdrop to the scene. “Or if you prefer, a reward for acting honorably earlier, taking pains to not kill our soldiers. Once war broke out, we were to hold you as potential bargaining chips, but as ‘twould seem our final stand approaches, I see no chance of that now. I am also well aware of what awaits should you return to your masters in failure, so I trust you both to not fight but simply disappear.”

The two deflated slightly at that. Having failed in their mission to stop the changeling spy they were chasing and recover the stolen plans, and having surrendered rather than fought to the death, they knew full well that disgrace and execution was all that awaited them from the Empire now, doubly so given their failure had forced the Empire to launch their invasion prematurely. They considered my words and looked around, then up at the growing and growling storm again, recognizing they had but perchance a minute left before it broke.

“Very well, Lance. You win,” Palidor Quetzali told me somewhat grudgingly after a glance and nod exchanged with his comrade. “We will do as you say, and we give you our word that we will stay out of this fight. We cannot wish you luck, but if, by some unlikely event, we meet again? Be assured that your ‘courtesy’ will be remembered.”

“That is all I ask,” I acknowledged, and then returned to them the farmer vests they’d been originally captured in so they could pass as civilians again. I next tossed them each a pair of short blades off my own weapons belt; though surprised, they plucked them right out of the air. “The northern wastes are dangerous and I would not wish you to face them unarmed. Take these and be well,” I invited again.

The two looked at each other again, then back to me. I had little fear they would turn on me at that point, and indeed, they did not, stashing the blades inside their vests and looking upon me with new respect. They then came to attention and saluted me in the gryphon manner as one, and I returned the gesture crisply before leaving them to make their escape, heading back for the vacated storm cloud vault.

I never saw them again and I knew not their fates… until well after the war when I received a surprise package with no return address. ‘Twas one of the first deliveries of the newly established Gryphon Express, who had recently begun overseas mail service from the new Kingdom to Equestria. In it… were two of the four blades I had given them, each well-worn.

A letter accompanying them said they had not only survived; they had made a new life away from war and killing, the exact location and nature of which I will keep secret except to say their new profession was strangely fitting and that they became husband and wife. They thanked me again for keeping their survival a secret and enabling their escape, adding that they hoped to visit me one day.

They eventually did, and I have been in constant correspondence with them since. Under any other circumstances, ‘tis certain I would have taken their secret to my grave. I only reveal this now because, upon learning of this account’s writing, they wrote me again to directly request I reveal how and why they lived. They did not say why except to state that they wished to show by example that former warriors, even former assassins, can find peace and new purpose; that honor offered can be realized and repaid... even far into the future.

I do so gladly to show not just the gryphon side but the pony one that there is indeed honor amongst even the deadliest of former adversaries, and friendships can form even from the bitterest of foes.

Well, Sergeant Major… ‘tis certain this is indeed a surprise! At the time, I didn’t question your report of their escape given we had a great deal else to worry about, though I did at least briefly wonder why you were so insistent to me that I tell everyone they were dead. Methinks I might be more annoyed, but ‘twas an act of mercy and mutual respect I can certainly appreciate. Shows of honor like this became only too rare the deeper we got into the war, but some could still be found. Here at the start at least, ‘twould seem honor was offered by both sides in some small and large ways.

Speak for yourself, Captain. You know my feelings towards the Ravens, and learning that these two survived is, to me, a point of great disgust. Perchance I can understand why you didst this, Swift Strike, but had it been me? Even not yet knowing the full story of what had happened at Cloudsdale, methinks I would have gladly let them perish!

Methinks I am with her on this one, Swift Strike. Having lost two good friends to the Ravens in their earlier attempt to assassinate Gavian, my grudge against them remains. I find little honorable about them or their line of work, and I find it a great pity to know they did not die that night.

With apologies to you both, ‘twas part of the reason I kept it secret, even from the commander. Yes, I know your feelings on the matter well, but having fought them several times and parlayed with them on covert operations at least twice, I respect the Ravens as peers, having even worked with them on more than one occasion after the war. As these two had nothing to do with either event, methinks ‘twould not be right to hold them accountable for the actions of others. As I believe ‘twas a lesson you yourself once had to learn, Colonel Osprey?

Please, dear friends. I do not wish what is supposed to be a time of unity and remembrance to descend into rancor. I understand your strong feelings, and know your pain in turn, but I believe I must side with my mentor, not for that but because I agree guilt by association is never right. Besides, unlike the first group, these two took pains not to kill, and thus earned the honor they were given. If I may now offer up my own recollections on the cavern battle, Mother? ‘Twas my first time in combat, and for it, methinks ‘tis time I contribute to this tale myself.

Thank you, Gavian. And by all means. The exchange you just read, dear readers, was the paraphrasing of a rather heated argument that erupted following the revealing of Swift Strike’s secret. Perchance the lesson here is that grudges and pains remain, even this long after the war, and that old wounds can still all too easily be reopened. Fear not; our friendships and bonds are strong enough to survive such things, and spirited debates are hardly unusual amongst us even to this day. But to turn the page on it, I invite my son now to begin the story of the climactic battle in earnest, starting with the action in the underground vault.

Thank you, Mother. As I reflect back on that great and terrible night, on all the myriad emotions I experienced along with everypony else, I cannot help but recall those who fought and fell that day, on both sides. Whether pony or gryphon, mage or healer, Talon or Corps, Guardspony or Knight, we fought bravely and desperately for our respective sides. ‘Twas both my gravest wish and worry that I would be able to do so myself when the time came; be able to acquit myself well as a warrior.

Outpost Epsilon
Underground Storm Cloud Vault
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

Methinks I knew full well that ponies could control weather, having seen them not only create wind, but manipulate clouds to fire lightning on the drill fields.

I had even seen them practice assembling and disassembling a small supercell at least twice, building it up and then breaking it back down into individual storm clouds. But in such instances they didn’t let the storm fully develop; they stopped it before it could metastasize, for lack of a better word, into a full-blown maelstrom.

Thus, I didn’t truly know the full scope of what they could unleash until I saw this one created; an absolute monster of a storm that quickly overspread the entire sky, sucking up the fog from below and its wind ripping at us even inside the cavern; the constant crashing booms from its unnaturally strong lightning bolts causing vibrations I could feel from beneath the earth. Indeed, methinks I was suddenly very happy to be inside and under some cover, though I feared greatly for my mother and all my friends now outside fighting within it.

As much as I may have wished to, I knew better than to join them. ‘Twas certain I knew full well that my smaller size and lack of pegasi weather magic would work against me in such a violent environment, leaving me far more at the mercy of the swirling winds and lightning than the wind-riding pegasi and the larger, heavier Talons and Knights charging in. For me to attempt to fight within the storm would be suicide, and thus I obeyed Mother’s direction to help move the healer teams and wounded into the vacated storm cloud vault, along with our earth pony maintenance crew and all the equipment and supplies we could.

The idea ‘twas that we would use the empty cavern as a final sanctuary and redoubt when they drove us from the skies, forcing them to storm it through the narrow chokepoint the vault doors created, enabling us to exact an even higher toll.

‘Twould ultimately change little, we knew, but we were all resigned to our fate, and I swore that I would fight and fall with my friends defending the adoptive nation I had come to love.

Unfortunately, our enemies had their own plans to end resistance at Epsilon cheaply and quickly, and those plans only became apparent as midnight was reached and the floor of the cavern began to quake.

At first, I thought ‘twas just the fury of the newly-formed storm shaking the very ground around us, but the lie of that was proven quickly when the center of the cavern floor suddenly caved in with a cloud of dust. We weren’t sure what was happening until several decades of figures suddenly shot out of the opening, resolving into a score of gryphons, including two mages and at least a dozen diamond dogs.

We gaped for a moment, our presence apparently equally unexpected to each other, the gryphons looking around at the empty vault in some confusion before realizing they weren’t alone.

And then, to borrow one of the many pony phrases I had learned over the past several months, all Tartarus broke loose.

The healers dropped what they were doing and immediately levitated their longbows, hurriedly notching arrows whilst the earth pony maintenance crew grabbed the axes strapped to their backs, wielding them in their mouth. A startled mage hurled a lightning bolt into our midst only to find a hastily erected shield from Still Way, who had enough aura to spare for a second spell, this one a magical burst to bowl the diamond dogs back towards the lip of their newly created tunnel. His instinctive effort, disrupted their formation and initial crossbow volley, causing most of the shots to go wild.

I am ashamed to say that I did not react immediately myself, standing frozen for a moment until a familiar voice snapped me out of my uncertainty.

“Gavian!” A recently returned Swift Strike shouted at me, quickly interposing himself, wingblades bared as the first crossbow bolts were aimed my way. “Take flight, NOW!” he ordered me and I instantly obeyed the instructions of my mentor, evading a hastily launched and rather ragged crossbow volley from an additional squad of Diamond Dogs that popped out of the tunnel, whose neck was perchance ten yards wide.

The mages were defended by two dozen Talons and several Fortis Knights, who looked just as surprised to see us as the rest, their leader shouting orders at the Talons—all earth gryphons—to form up.

One bolt whistled past my ear. My heart racing and a momentary sense of panic gripping me—I had fought spars and even a death duel with Flight Sergeant Osprey two months earlier, and my talons had drawn blood when I had hunted, but methinks a full-blown battle situation ‘twas not something I was yet familiar with, and I wasn’t yet sure what to do. Should I fight? If so, who first? Who was the greater threat? Should I use my sword or new crossbow? Should I attack our foes or defend the healers? Or should I—

The gryphon leader—a Fortis Knight tiercel wielding a war hammer and bearing the rank of a Decurio; their platoon leader equivalent—broke into my thoughts with his next shouted orders, appraising the situation and then reeling off his instructions in Aeric with impressive speed despite the surprise situation he faced.

“Mages! Kill the unicorn Guardspony and then hit targets of opportunity! Dogs! Concentrate fire on the unicorns! Pin them down and then slay them with anti-aura and explosive bolts! Talons! Annihilate the Earth Ponies and then flank the unicorns! Knights! Take down their pegasus commander and then slay the traitor!” he pointed directly at me with his war mace, the murder in his eyes and sheer venom in his voice causing my heart to stop.

The threat to my life suddenly imminent as the three Fortis Knights quickly took an arrow formation and charged through the air for me and my mentor, I finally remembered the sword on my back and drew it as the healers exchanged volleys with the Diamond Dogs, longbow arrows putting several down swiftly as Still Way engaged the two mages, aura to aura.

Methinks they looked surprised that a single unicorn, even a Celestial Guardspony, would challenge them, their enchanted cloaks protecting them from his curses whilst they first tried to overwhelm him with beams of sheer magical force. And they were indeed driving his aura back until he teleported behind one and then hit her with an anti-aura arrow to collapse her shield, teleporting a second time to dodge a retaliatory lightning strike from her male comrade before she was slain with a crossbow bolt through her chest fired by Spear Sergeant Steelheart, who then rallied the Earth Ponies to meet the Talons.

Both infuriated and afraid, the surviving mage screamed in rage at the loss of his comrade. He spun his staff and released a wave of magic that washed over me—a teleport suppression field, I would later learn—and then started pounding Still Way with his strongest elemental magic, hitting him with fire, lighting and even ice in turn. Meanwhile, the Talons engaged Steelheart and the earth pony maintenance crew, the decade of troops initially taking to the air briefly to launch an aerial volley that caused them to scatter and upend tables to use as improvised shields, providing at least some protection from the armor-piercing and explosive bolts that impacted them.

To their credit, the blonde-maned and bearded earth pony maintenance crew did not falter. They, too, had come around to me and I’d spoken to them once or twice; from what I’d learned for them they were no stranger to fighting. Having grown up in the backcountry of Swheaten where wild boars and marauding Timberwolves were always a threat, they were able to throw their axes with surprising force and accuracy, sending them spinning through the air at their assailants, who were forced to break formation to dodge.

None hit, but with their flight disrupted, at Steelheart’s order they then ran at and leapt at the low flying gryphons who had dodged towards the floor, catching several by the forelegs and dragging them to ground where they could fight them. They slew two quickly with pounding hooves and axe strikes before the gryphons retaliated, moving to envelop them, forming a loose line and drawing their mid-sized shields, advancing with them in their left talons whilst wielding a spear in their right.

But ‘twas certain I could not watch the further progression of that fight as I prepared to engage the Knights with Swift Strike at the fore, realizing with both excitement and no little fear that within seconds, my fondest wish and greatest fantasy would be realized—to be a warrior and engage an elite enemy in mortal combat.

“Gavian! On me!” Swift Strike ordered, flying in a spiral pattern to throw off crossbow fire as I’d seen Corps soldiers practice; I immediately followed his lead and his exact path. “It’s up to us to fight their flyers! Now load your crossbow! Use an armor-piercing bolt—the black-tipped ones!” he shouted back, plucking two throwing blades from his belt as we closed the distance. “When I tell you, break high and target the leftmost Knight from above!”

“Y-yes, teacher!” Methinks things were now happening so fast that I’m surprised I heard his order, but months of obedience to his instructions as my mentor made me obey automatically, fumbling home a bolt and using the lever to draw the string back. He’d spent time with me earlier that day training me in its use at static targets, and though I could hit the hay bales with parchment targets stuck to them I’d shot at easily enough, ‘twasn’t at all certain to me how I would do against moving ones.

And in any event, ‘tis certain I had precious little time to consider the fact as our adversaries drew near. “Now!” Swift Strike shouted as we closed to within twenty yards, and I immediately shot up and to the left, targeting the Knight nearest me. He immediately broke formation and moved to follow me, battle axe and his own crossbow in talons as my first bolt missed wide—I simply hadn’t had enough practice with it yet. It mattered not as Swift Strike in turn targeted that gryphon, simply shooting between the first two—or so I thought as they gave pained cries.

At first, I didn’t see why, my attention on the third gryphon as it was. Swift Strike streaked upwards towards him whilst I darted aside, the Knight’s return bolt just missing my head; the whistle of its passing scaring me so badly methinks that months earlier I might well have fainted from fright.

But I was not the helpless cub I once was, and my training and desire to live up to my own oath, prove myself the warrior Centurion Nael claimed I could never be overrode my fears. I would fulfil my oath to defend Equestria! I would prove my parents and nation had been wrong to discard me as worthless here and now!

“Close on him!” my mentor ordered as he did the same from behind, forcing the Knight, now separated from his comrades, to deal with two disparate threats at once. An Earth Gryphon, he was not as fast in the air as me or the Sky Sergeant, but his armor was tough and his strength not to be trifled with as he parried first my swing and Swift Strike’s pass, the jarring impact knocking me backwards.

“Sting and move, Gavian!” Swift Strike ordered further as we began peppering the Knight with blade blows from two sides, trying to find a chink in his armor whilst avoiding his spinning axe. Below us, the other two Knights were staggered and I saw why as one removed a throwing blade from his side with a pained grunt whilst the other was forced to the ground by a second blade in his shoulder near the base of his wing. But he was still able to fight, shaking off the blow and then heading towards the battle between the Talons and Earth Ponies.

‘Twas just then there was another eruption of dirt and dust from the middle of the healers, which shortly revealed itself to be a second hole hastily dug by the dogs into the middle of our defenses. Another six dogs popped up from the small opening and took down two of the healers before they could react, and worse, began slaying our wounded, clubbing and stabbing them as a mobile but broken Sky Sentry could only cower and sob. Our defenses split, the Talons took advantage and began rolling them up from two sides.

‘Twas little we could do to help until we dealt with the one Knight, however. Our speed told and finally my mentor scored with his left wingblade, penetrating the Fortis Knight’s armor at the elbow joint and causing him to drop his axe. He followed that up with an upward strike, knocking his foe’s head up and baring the top of his throat… which was promptly sliced open by the veteran Lance, with a spinning wingblade slash whilst I send him plummeting to the ground with a strike to the back of his helmeted head.

A gout of blood spattered my mentor, but not me; in hindsight’ tis just as well or it might have deepened my shock. But far from noticing it himself, Swift Strike merely looked at me and nodded. “Well done, lad. Now back on me! We have to help the healers!” he told me, only for our way to be blocked by the other airborne Knight, who ignored his wound to brandish his mace in one set of talons and a large shield in the other.

He paid Swift Strike no mind to focus on me. “You dishonor our race and our Empire, traitorous runt! And for it, you must die!” he announced in Aeric, brandishing his mace and ignoring his bleeding flank.

“Gavian…” Swift Strike began to fly in front of me, readying to confront the second Knight himself.

“No, mentor!” I told him, blocking his way and brandishing my still-clean sword, trying to ignore the clenching of my stomach. I had fought a death duel once before, but that had been in front of a mostly friendly audience, and facing a far smaller adversary than the imposing Fortis Knight before me, wielding heavy weapons and armor I could not even begin to heft.

“I will fight him! If he wishes to kill me I will grant him the chance! So do not worry about me! Help the healers and slay the dogs! You must turn the winds of battle in our favor!” I told him, turning towards him just long enough for him to see both the fear and fire in my eyes.

He stared into them only briefly, myriad emotions in his own gaze. He looked as if there was something he wanted to say, but there was no time and methinks he knew I was right. He gave me a brief but hard hug with his foreleg, than dove hard for the deck, leaving me to face the Fortis Knight alone.

And ‘twas a very difficult thing for me to do, Gavian, knowing I could be abandoning you to your death, but as you say, I knew you were right and that I was needed below.

I do not like bragging about my combat exploits. ‘Tis an unseemly thing for warriors in general and the Lances in particular, where our operations and skillset must remain in the shadows as much as possible. But again, as this battle and my role in it is one of public record, methinks I will indulge.

Methinks I am hardly giving away a secret to say if there is one thing the Lances are particularly good at, ‘tis room clearing tactics.

‘Tis necessary given many of our tasks involve infiltration of enemy facilities, and thus clearing rooms and corridors ‘tis something that is drilled into us time and time again until ‘tis second nature. For me, however, it became something of a forte; one of several I now possess. I can fight well in the sky, certainly, but my true specialty both there and later as a Bolt Knight was ground and close-quarters blade combat.

As such, ‘tis not a boast but a simple statement of fact to say I was the perfect pony for the problem the second front of the diamond dogs presented.

Going for my belt as I dove on their latest tunnel, I armed two shock gems at once by plucking them from my belt with both hooves and then reaching back to twist their tops against the shoulders of my wingblade harness. Once primed, I hurled them at the two greatest concentrations of dogs, catching at least four in their static snare. They fell swiftly to my wingblades afterwards as I followed up with two throwing blades that found the throat of one and the chest of another, killing the first and staggering the second, leaving him easy prey for the remaining healers, at least one of which had discarded her longbow and was now whirling and slashing with a small unicorn blade given to her by Still Way.

Still Way himself was still locked in a magical duel with the second gryphon mage and showing an impressive range of spellcasting, disrupting his opponent’s offensive magic by various means, and at one point he took a gout of flame point blank only to reveal himself slightly singed but otherwise unharmed courtesy of an anti-fire enchantment. The frustrated mage then tried to bring a loosened boulder from the storm-shaken ceiling down on his shielded head, but a magical beam shattered it before it could reach him and then, with the two having spent a significant portion of their power trying to futilely overcome the other’s defenses, the mage finally pointed his stave directly at the Celestial Guardspony in challenge.

Still Way smiled serenely at that. He announced his acceptance of the offered duel by lowering his head to present his horn. And then…

And then the pair launched pure magical beams at each other which met midway between them in a bright and growing glow. No spells, no subtlety, just a battle of sheer magical force that manifested itself in clashing beams, their battle now reduced to a simple contest of aural strength and stamina.

I saw all this only in passing whilst dealing with the surface dogs, however, directing defense whilst I slew the remainder, driving the rest back into the tunnel whence they had sprung—their appearance had done its damage however, with two of our six healers down and a third wounded, as well as losing many of their patients. That only enraged our remaining unicorns further as they went back to their killing work with a will, obeying my instructions to seal the tunnel behind me as I lit a firegem and charged the tunnel, intended to clear it in its entirety before it could be used again.

The five or so dogs inside were surprised to see me, but I gave them no chance to collapse the ceiling on top of me as my blades swung and lashed out, not lingering in any one place but darting from point to point, dog to dog, slaying each in turn—they had clubs and some armor but my smaller size worked to my advantage as it always had; I was able to maneuver in the narrow space whereas they could not. The dogs were greedy but refused to abandon their own, and thus, the ones further back were not willing to sacrifice their comrades by collapsing the tunnel midway even as the Talon eagless who was directing them begged them to.

Slaying the final dog, I reached the Talon herself; a Decurion who had not the training or weapons needed for the task of fighting me. She tried, true enough, attempting to ward me off with her blade whilst backing out of the narrow tunnel, but found her scimitar too long to be effectively swung in the cramped confines. She even fired an explosive crossbow bolt into the ceiling to try to collapse it on top of me when her canine subordinates would not, but despite taking a few crystal fragments I slew her easily when I reached her—the Ravens were well-trained for such affairs but not Talons—and burst out into the main tunnel, throwing a few flash gems out ahead of me to dazzle any other Talons or Dogs still there.

I heard a few pained cries and, being unable to target me for the spots in their vision, I shot past them and then back into the open air of the cavern, bearing down on the Talon battle line from behind. I slew two with wingblades before they saw me, breaking their improvised phalanx, allowing the earth ponies to begin driving them back towards the tunnel.

The entire sequence I described had taken less than a minute from beginning to end. ‘Twas only then I dared look up to see how Gavian was doing, and methinks I was not reassured when I saw neither him nor his Knight opponent within view.

I offer my sincerest apologies for that, mentor. But methinks I was still gathering myself at that moment, mentally dealing with the aftermath of the fight I shall now describe.

There had been times, during my sword training, that Swift Strike had emphasized to me the importance of focus.

Focus on form, focus on my opponent, focus on the strike or parry to come. Focus on the flow of the fight and match your rhythm to that of your enemy so that you might see it and disrupt it. But so much was going through my head at that moment that focus was nigh impossible. So many little battles happening within the cavern; so much worry about what was happening outside in the violent storm whose deadly force could even be heard and felt inside; so much fear of the Knight before me who had sworn to kill me.

What was I doing there? What was I thinking believing I could challenge a fully armed and armored veteran earth gryphon Knight wearing the rank insignia of a Second Spear, with nothing more than my sword and some mismatched pieces of Talon armor?

I quashed those fears as hard as I could. For I had sworn an oath to not only defend Equestria, but to repay the blood debt I had incurred for the six Corps soldiers who had died in January defending me from the Ravens. If I was to be any kind of warrior, I could not shirk this fight. If I was to call myself honorable and defend Equestria as I had promised, I had to fight and win!

Unfortunately, ‘tis certain such noble sentiments only go so far. The Knight recognized the shaking of my limbs as I faced him, and smiled. “Fear not, misguided young cub. I’ll make your end quick!” he promised me in Aeric as he wielded his mace.

And yet for all my fears and to my own great surprise, my immediate reaction was to give him a goading grin; the same one I’d used on Nael not even an hour earlier. “Then bring it, you overgrown and honorless turkey!” I replied in Aeric to cover my own anxiety, half-hoping I could make him attack in anger as I’d done to Osprey during our earlier duel—to call a gryphon a turkey was to imply they were clumsy and awkward; more interested in their plumage whilst being unworthy of being a predator or warrior.

Unfortunately, he was far more disciplined than that and his face contorted in a snarl as my mortal insult registered. “I take it back, cub. For your insolence, you will die slowly and painfully!” The Knight promised me, and began a very deliberate approach.

My initial gambit having failed, I tried to appraise the situation and my opponent as Swift Strike had taught me. The Knight outweighed me considerably even without his armor, and being an earth gryphon meant he was far stronger than me. That alone meant I couldn’t possibly parry his blows directly or our difference of size and strength would tell; I’d be knocked right into the ground or worse, the sword from my talons if I did.

But that did not mean I did not have advantages of my own. In time, you can be just like me, Gavian… so fast and quick nopony can touch you! Swift Strike had once promised me, but I had certainly never reached that point with him, still the fastest pony I knew. But against this Knight, who knew not how I’d trained or fought…?

He charged me, swinging his mace in an arc that had I stood still would have quickly connected with my head, crushing my skull despite the borrowed and bloody helmet I was wearing. But by the time it reached where I was, I had automatically dodged it as I would one of my mentor’s wingblades in a training spar, easily evading it and suddenly finding myself beside the Second Spear and whirling my blade to impact his head.

Swift Strike or Mother would have parried it easily, but this Knight was not Swift Strike, and the impact of metal on metal rang out loud and clear, rattling his skull within it. Surprised but only briefly staggered, he brought his shield up to ward off additional blows whilst I circled him, landing a second strike on his back near his less-protected hindquarters, my slash penetrating the thin armor and drawing blood!

‘Twas then I realized—‘twas exactly as Swift Strike said! My smaller size and all the agility training he had given me meant I could ‘fly rings’ around the Knight; he couldn’t match my speed or striking ability in the air!

That did not mean he couldn’t make use of other means, however, as he replaced his shield on his back and grabbed some form of snare from inside his armor in its place, whirling it with increasing speed and radius around him like an exotic whip. “Fool! You may be fast, but you can’t dodge this!” he promised, and the truth of the statement was proven when he lashed out with it and, to my horror, snared my hind leg!

“No!” I panicked as I felt myself being yanked back towards him and his waiting mace. I slashed at it frantically only for my sword to barely fray it; ‘twas enchanted somehow and I didn’t have the time to break through it. He had me dead to rights; at the rate he was reeling me in by repeatedly wrapping the snare around his armored wrist, I’d be in range of his mace within seconds. I was already anticipating the impact of its spiked surface against my chest or head; ‘twas certain at that moment I was dead…

And suddenly time slowed down. I’d heard Mother and mentor speak of such things; of how, in the midst of combat, one’s senses become heightened to incredible levels of acuity, entering an altered state where even perceptions of the passage of time were affected. They spoke of it how ‘twas something that happened spontaneously, an enhanced state of being that only the best and most seasoned of soldiers could experience on cue.

‘Twas certain I’d always thought it mere hyperbole, until it happened to me. I saw everything in perfect clarity from the path of and manner of his strike to how long it would take…

To the quarter-second gap he would leave in his defenses whilst readying his mace for the killing blow, leaving his head open. And thus, whether due to the graces of my ancestors or the fact that somehow, I was now one of those such gifted warriors, I saw the opening. And I took it.

Shifting my stance into a thrusting one even as I was pulled towards him, I waited for his mace arm to clear and then stabbed forward, pushing my blade with both arms. My aim was true; the tip of my sword speared right through his helmet, finding his unprotected eye and driving halfway into his skull. Methinks he realized he was slain for a split second as his other eye briefly locked with mine in shock…

And then it went unfocused and his body limp as he slid backwards off my sword, leaving the last half of it covered with gore, dropping the snare whilst leaving it hanging from my leg. Methinks I cannot describe how I felt at that moment—terrified yet elated, proud yet petrified, even horrified at my feat. I had slain—not a forest creature, but another gryphon, and an elite soldier at that. I was now what I always wished—a warrior with my first true kill to my name! And yet…

The rush of combat and heightened awareness left me as the enormity of my feat sunk in along with the realization that I had just slain. I shook. I trembled. My flight faltered…

And then I lost my senses for a moment, falling to the cavern floor in a faint.

Even nearly thirty years later, all I can say is: well done, Gavian. You overcame your fears to defeat a very powerful adversary in single combat, thus proving the lie of Centurion Nael’s words… though ‘tis certain Nael himself had yet to learn that!

Despite killing two Knights and most of the Dogs along with five Talons, the cavern battle still hung in the balance.

The duel between the surviving mage and Still Way was still going unabated and there was nothing I could do to help him except trust that the strangely serene First Sergeant knew what he was doing, and that he had the magical reserves to outlast his gryphon counterpart. In the meantime, the priority became the fifteen remaining Talons, who were darting back and forth over our unicorns and earth ponies, trying to gain advantage of position before they could shift to counter.

I was doing the same, but the remaining Talons were aware of my presence now and keeping at least two crossbows trained on me at all times, their best archers firing special proximal explosive bolts that the EIS reported they’d been developing but did not yet have. The lie of that intelligence was proven when I dodged one only for it to detonate six feet away, peppering me with sharp crystal shrapnel and knocking me to the ground with my ears ringing and face bleeding; methinks I was very lucky not to lose a wing or an eye.

Trying to pick myself up, I finally saw Gavian lying yards from his slain adversary, alive but shaking and trying to overcome the emotional shock of what he’d just done, attempting to pull himself up by using his sword as a stand. He caught my eye and gave me a shaky nod, which I quickly returned, pulling my last pair of throwing blades and trying to think of my next tactic if I couldn’t fly in.

‘Twas only then I realized we had a far greater issue as suddenly the third Knight catapulted himself out of cover into action, leaping a stand of rock with his war hammer strapped to his back and charging on all fours for Steelheart, who had been effectively leading the defense. The Spear Sergeant saw him too late as the earth gryphon slammed into him, raking his cheek with his talons and pounding him hard into the ground before rearing up and grabbing his massive weapon.

My heart clenched, realizing there was nothing I nor anypony else could do; even at full speed I couldn’t reach him in time. Steelheart was down, stunned and unmoving, helpless before the third Fortis Knight, who raised his war hammer over his head and then brought it down in a practiced overhoof strike. I had seen captured older versions of those weapons demonstrated at Lance intelligence briefings—the head was charged with magic which would erupt with devastating concussive force upon impact with its target, likely reducing the Spear Sergeant’s form to pulp.

The blow never landed. There was a shriek of fear and pain followed by a blur of blue and white as a large winged form tackled the Knight before he could bring his hammer down. To my shock, it resolved into the form of… Sky Sentry!

Finally rediscovering his courage and warrior heart, he grappled with the earth gryphon with no protection other than a borrowed Corps combat uniform, fighting him for the weapon. He was shouting and crying as despite his lack of wingblades or any other weapon he brought blow after blow down on the wounded Knight with his hooves alone, denting his armor and pounding his helmeted head mercilessly.

“No more dead ponies! NO MORE!” he shouted over and over as he landed haymaker after haymaker on his adversary, not caring how vulnerable he was without armor or weapons of his own.

And when the reeling and bleeding Knight finally gathered enough of his senses to throw his adversary off and put him in what I’d heard earth ponies refer to as a ‘bear hug’, holding him upright and intending to use the staff of the hammer to break his spine, the stallion surprised him with hard and repeated headbutts, knocking off his helmet with the first and then pounding his opponent’s forehead repeatedly.

‘Tis certain I had no idea how he was able to maintain consciousness through that punishment, but either through adrenaline or sheer desperation, he finally broke the Knight’s grip, landed a two-hooved uppercut on his chin, then wheeled and bucked him with both his hind hooves despite his still-bandaged wounds, breaking ribs and knocking his adversary into a nearby table filled with healer supplies. The maintenance crew finished the Knight by splitting his unprotected head open, and then helped Sky Sentry to his hooves. He tried to fight them as well for a moment before he realized they were friendly, at which point he broke down and cried like a foal again, two of the healers attending him with the third going to Steelheart.

The fight remained at a standoff until suddenly the mage’s aura weakened and Still Way drove his own right back into his enemy’s staff, shattering it in his grasp. He then simply magically snapped the mage’s neck, and with his loss, the Talons realized they could no longer win faced with the magic of the Celestial Guardspony; at their leader’s direction they bolted for the tunnel which they had originally come, their surviving dozen members diving down it, leaving that many more behind. Two more fell to longbow arrows and one to an earth pony axe before they completed their escape.

Though severely weakened with his magic almost completely drained, Still Way took charge of the ground defense in place of Steelheart, directing the remaining three healers to lay a specific suppression spell he’d taught them over the area to prevent further Diamond Dog breakthroughs and then help him bring down the ceiling over the tunnel to plug its entrance.

It caved in with a resounding BOOM!, and thus did the battle for Epsilon’s vacated storm cloud vault end.

Thank you for relating this remarkable tale, Swift Strike and Gavian. I marvel at your courage and response to a completely unexpected move by the gryphons, one we did not anticipate but perchance should have as we knew by then they were using Diamond Dogs on the attack. And ‘twas certainly not my intention in sending you down there, Gavian, that you challenge and defeat a Fortis Knight! Be proud, even now, of how well you performed in your first battle, my son, and fret not about your poor reaction to your first kill—you know well from the earlier volume how badly I took mine!

From beginning to end, according to Swift Strike, the cavern battle took but two minutes. The intention of this strike into the storm cloud vault, we learned from the wounded dogs left behind, was to rig our storm cloud cache to explode with all its lightning on cue once the outside forces had hemmed us into a small enough area where we would all be caught in the blast, ending resistance at Epsilon at little additional cost.

‘Twas a good and cunning plan, one that methinks would likely have worked had they struck only twenty minutes earlier before we began to build the superstorm. Unfortunately for the gryphons, they were trapped by their own offer of honor; they broke in at the stroke of midnight when our surrender deadline lapsed and ‘twould seem from this description that they were very surprised to find the vault devoid of clouds but full of armed ponies with a superstorm raging outside.

They clearly did not expect more than token forces there but instead faced a mixed platoon-sized contingent as they attempted to overcome and perchance deny us our final refuge. They did not succeed thanks to the combined efforts of all three pony tribes, but the cost was high; most of our wounded were slain along with half our healer team and two of the earth pony maintenance crew, who I recommended be awarded an Army medal—the Opal Spear—and honorary Army ranks for their superb and fearless efforts.

On the face of it, this battle was but a sideshow to one we were fighting outside under the most dangerous and deadly conditions imaginable, but as it turned out, ‘twas fortunate indeed that we won that skirmish, as the next chapter will show. But for now? We have just received word that father has awoken, so ‘tis time to see him and tell him how much I love him.

In war, there are no unwounded soldiers. —Jose Narosky

Author's Notes:

So the battle beneath the storm opens with a surprise skirmish that turns out to be anything but a sideshow, and thus is learned the fate of the two captured Ravens, spared by an act of mercy and honor from Swift Strike. Will they appear again? Maybe. But for now, this is the first of a three-chapter ending arc that describes the climactic Battle for Epsilon and brings to a close the first day of the invasion. Yes, it's taken a while to get this far, but the first day of war needed this treatment--needless to say, I will not be writing fifteen chapters per each day of war! After this, time jumps of days to weeks will occur between major battles and the progress of the invasion will be shown graphically where not directly described.

Regardless, hope you liked! The key here was figuring out battle progression; once I did, things went a lot more smoothly. Thanks as always go to Council of War members AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, Leo Archon and Denim_Blue. Appreciate the prereads and commentary, guys!

Part 14 - Into the Storm

Dear readers—

To the relief of all, my father has emerged from surgery and regained consciousness, though he is understandably very groggy and slow to respond. He is also very tired and his inner magic is weak, leaving him unable to heal or recover quickly.

The latter, unfortunately, is by design—in order for his body to accept and reconnect to the rebuilt wing and not reject the change to his anatomy the operation imparted, his natural aura must be suppressed for several days, rendering him very weak, and, more ominously, vulnerable to various maladies, both physical and magical.

‘Twill be very ‘touch-and-go’, as I have heard the term given, for the next week, and he will not be out of danger for some time. But I may at least report he recognized me and, to little surprise, the first thing he did was to ask me what I thought of his earlier writing.

I could only hug him at that, telling him all the things I wish I’d been able to before—that nopony would ever think him a coward, and, just as he himself pointed out, true courage was not the absence of fear, but acting in spite of it. I then mentioned that he had inspired us to work on the next chapter for distraction ourselves, so he asked to see it. Unable to read it with unfocused eyes, he laid back and listened as Gavian sat at his bedside and read it to him. He offered a few comments here and there, though he didn’t make it to the end before he fell asleep again, exhausted after his ordeal.

Gavian decided to remain with him after that, saying that as his own story of the battle was finished for now, he would “do a grandson’s duty” and “stay at his grandsire’s side.” He also said he’d been inspired to create a new picture of the vault battle he’d witnessed and participated in, and immediately set out to sketching some ideas for it.

So for the rest of us, ‘tis time to relate the story of the battle beneath the storm. ‘Twas not the only time such a tactic would be attempted during the conflict, and ‘twas always a desperate one when it was—an admission that no victory was possible and the only remaining option was to try and take as many enemy soldiers with us as we could.

‘Tis the grim calculus of war, as I have heard arcane theorists use the term for such advanced mathematics as to be almost magical in what they can express, and did not always work. But here at the start…?

Well. Perchance we should simply let the story tell the tale.

For those non-pegasi who may be reading this work, I wish it known here and now that ‘tis a myth that pegasi are immune to weather.

For what does that mean? That we do not get wet when it rains? That we do not feel the biting chill and thin air of the upper atmosphere? That we cannot be slain by a direct strike from lightning? All are false statements, as any pegasus who has ever worked with weather can attest.

Does our wind and weather magic make us resistant to such effects? Certainly, doubly so for those like myself or Thunderbolt who demonstrated an elemental affinity for lightning or other weather aspects. But immune? Not hardly. Many are the cases of a pegasus who did not respect the power of the weather or thought too highly of their own ability to control it ending up injured or worse.

Indeed, methinks I was one of those pegasi when, but a single short month earlier, I ordered Fell Flight to fire a bolt from one of our own storm clouds at me so I could practice deflecting it. Even with my as-yet unrealized lightning affinity, I ended up flat on my flank and lucky to be alive.

Indeed you did, Captain. Be grateful that despite your orders, I only used a half-strength bolt! Even so, ‘twas a moment when I thought I had accidentally killed you, rushing you to the infirmary afterwards, though ‘twould be the basest of lies to say I did not enjoy greatly being able to say I told you so when you woke up!

–Fell Flight

I’m sure you did, Lieutenant. And methinks I cannot fault you for it. ‘Twas an incredibly foalish move on my part; one you warned me against, and methinks I more than deserved your ridicule for it afterwards. But it did at least let me know where I stood in terms of ability, and once I had recovered enough to ‘start small’, as you so correctly advised back then, I started practicing with bolts fired from naturally occurring cumulus clouds and working my way up, if somewhat slower than I would have liked after my close brush with death.

Nevertheless, ‘twas efforts that would serve me well this night, engaged with the gryphons beneath a monster of our own making. Either due to Harmony or happenstance, the timing of the storm was perfect as it broke just as the gryphons began pushing in at midnight, not realizing the welcome we had prepared for them until ‘twas far too late.

Dimmu Borgir - Stormblast

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Northeast quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

I had barely received word of the gryphon intrusion into the empty storm cloud vault when the first Sky Gryphon Talons and Knights appeared in the rapidly clearing air beneath the base of the storm, charging in from their outside staging areas as earth gryphons advanced on the ground in ordered ranks.

I saw a few look up in consternation as they emerged out of the fog and recognized what we had done, but to their credit—or perchance foalishness—none wavered; their orders were to crowd us and use sheer mass of numbers, staged advances and crossbow volleys from above and below to push us back towards the vault entrance where our own rigged lightning cache could kill us.

They knew not that their plan was in vain at that point any more than I knew what their plan was. I did, however, know that their crossbows were useless in such conditions; the fierce winds the supercell was already generating ruined their accuracy and as the first sheets of rain began to fall from the storm’s forward flank, visibility dwindled quickly, allowing us to close on them where our wingblades could tell.

“All platoons! Hold position! Wait for the storm to fully mask us, then strike!” I ordered with a shout into my red command gem, praying I could still be heard over the growing gale, our forces—and theirs—already being buffeted by the strengthening downdrafts as rain and hail began falling from the cloud base.

‘Twas nothing I could do about the cavern battle except offer a quick prayer up for the civilians, healers and Gavian, and hope that the presence of two Celestial Guardsponies and a Black Lance would provide sufficient combat capability to win it. For if they could not, I not only lost my son, but we lost our planned redoubt and would inevitably fall victim to the storm as well.

But the storm was not at its worst, and ‘twouldn’t be for some time; it had not yet fully matured and would need some minutes—and perchance some more help—to do so. That gave us a window in which we could engage in direct combat with the gryphons with some chance of success.

The first engagements occurred just as the storm broke in all its fury directly overhead, the impact of the first oversized raindrops stinging us even as the storm’s mesocyclone continued to suck in warm, moist air the fog had provided in the normally dry desert air from below, powering itself up further whilst keeping the air beneath it rain-free.

We knew well enough to stay clear of the latter marked by its increasingly roiled and lowering cloud base, made clearly visible in the dark along with the rest of the battlefield by the lightning forking through the cloud.

But ‘twas apparent the gryphons did not as one of their centuries attempted to flank Snow Squall’s platoon through the deceptively clear air beneath it, only to be sucked up within in it and then chewed up in the storm’s interior, shredded by lightning and pummeled by the increasingly large hail that surrounded it, battered bodies raining to the ground below along with the greenish-tinged ice now falling from its base.

Lightning was also starting to reach out from the storm to strike the ground beneath it at an alarming rate, occasionally drawn directly to the metal-armored Knights, and unfortunately, a few of my own soldiers as well, striking several in flight and sending them dead or dying to the ground.

My guts clenched to see it, but ‘twas what we had wanted and invited as, on my order when the rainfall had increased to a torrent, we charged the much larger gryphon formations, intending to mix it up with them at close range.

Holding proper platoon, squad or even flight formations ‘twas impossible for both sides under such conditions, buffeted by wind, rain and initially small hail as we were. But such conditions gave pegasi the advantage, neutralizing all ranged weaponry for lack of visibility and altered flight paths of their crossbow arrows.

They could not see us in the violent storm except at close range, and even then they could not hit us with their crossbows, as chaotic winds ruined their accuracy and the few explosive bolts that detonated did little damage as their shrapnel effects were mitigated by the growing wind and torrent. Our wind and flight magic allowed us to fly and fight better than the gryphons, and we took maximum advantage of this, sensing and using the air currents to slay several dozen swiftly as they simply could not maneuver well enough to meet us.

And in the case of myself, I discovered that I did not need to be able to see them to strike them.

‘Twas a side effect of my as-yet un-fully realized lightning affinity that I could detect electrical fields around me and focuses of increased conductivity within it, like metal armor… or even living bodies when they were close enough and the fields strong enough. ‘Tis hard to describe to the laypony how I perceive them; ‘tis something akin to the magical awareness all ponies possess except directed toward electricity in general and lightning in particular.

‘Tis worth noting that the EIS’s Office of Magical Research tried to determine the extent of my abilities both during and after the war (the latter when they had access to gryphon expertise and technology). They found I could sense, track, and even somewhat influence the course of artificially-generated electricity, including the ‘Alternating Current’ the Minotaurs had discovered and were using to power their city lights.

Such scientific examinations lay in the future, however. At that point, ‘twas an effect I had noticed in the past during bad storms and even occasionally during training sessions involving naturally occurring clouds Wind Whistler used to fire weak bolts at me, but I hadn’t been able to make much use of it. The circumstances under which ‘twas both available and useful were simply too limited. But beneath a growing superstorm charging up the very atmosphere around me with plenty of electricity as the gryphons closed in?

Both were met.

I couldn’t see more than twenty feet ahead of me as the wind-driven downpour intensified, but I didn’t need to—to my surprise I could tell clearly where each gryphon soldier was within a hundred yards; even their stance or where their head was turned was apparent to me if they were close enough. Methinks the sky gryphon Wind Knights shone brightest, for lack of a better term, due to their mainly metal armor showing up clearly in a static-charged atmosphere while the mostly-leather wearing Talons weren’t quite as visible until I got closer. As such, I targeted the former, occasionally sensing and dodging a lightning bolt, swerving around its path though the booms were still deafening and the shock waves rattled me.

A couple times I sensed a prospective lightning path bending towards me and realized my own Guardspony armor was drawing it in, but the enchanted metal was designed to protect against Magus Knight attacks, including their lightning bolts, and thus afforded me a degree of protection to anything except a direct hit.

‘Twas the same for the non-Magus Knights, and they fared better beneath the storm than the Talons for it; more than once I sensed a strike take out an entire decade of the latter by impacting a metal helmet in its center. For the former, bolts took a few singly but their armor enchantments were, like mine, sufficient to protect them from near misses or indirect effects.

But they did not protect against me. Ordering Blindside’s platoon to come in behind me and concentrate on the Talons, I focused my efforts on the nearest decade of Knights, swooping and slashing. I tried but did not always succeed in riding the near-hurricane winds by harnessing my own wing-generated gusts to counter and compensate, using the cover of the storm and my suddenly-amazing awareness of my surroundings to pick off the elite gryphon soldiers one by one.

When possible, I struck them from behind where their armor protection was weakest, attacking their wings and necks; only occasionally did I have to parry a sword strike or dodge a swipe from their steel claws. To my surprise, at least one crossbow bolt found its mark, partially penetrating my flank armor as I plunged into a full decade of them, hearing some startled shouts before a fresh boom of lightning drowned them out. I felt a sharp sting of pain run up my leg from the armor-piercing arrow but ignored it, just glad it hadn’t been an explosive bolt as I went to work slaughtering them, able to fly and fight as they struggled just to hold position and mount an effective defense under the superstorm’s onslaught.

To their credit, they fought well even under the severe conditions the storm offered; more than once I took a hit that marred my armor, including a surprise sword strike to my lower back from a Talon that staggered me —’twas very sloppy of me; I’d been so intent on the armored Knights in front of me that I hadn’t detected the leather-wearing Talon catching a favorable wind gust and using it to dive on me; twas sheer luck he didn’t hit my wings—but able to produce storm-force winds of my own, I was able to counter, slaying each in turn until I found myself being pelted by small hail from above. My armor and helmet protected me against it without issue, but I knew with the storm still ramping up, small hail was just the start.

As ‘twas stated before, pegasi might be weather-resistant, but ‘tis certain that does not make us magically immune to the impacts of tempest-driven hail that could reach the size of a large hoof; especially Corps soldiers wearing only light armor. We couldn’t linger out here more than a few minutes or the storm would slay us too. We had to do what damage we could, keeping the gryphons engaged before their leadership came to their senses and ordered them out, and then retreat back to the cavern. ‘Twas then, with the Knights decimated and the storm still worsening that I checked in on the efforts of Blindside’s platoon.

I could tell them apart from the Talons by my magical awareness more than my electrical one; Corps soldiers lacking metal armor as the Talons did, ‘twas their flight and weather magic that shown brightest to me. They were doing well against the Talons but had taken some casualties of their own judging by the fewer number of soldiers I sensed. And one in particular seemed to be having trouble, not able to navigate the storm that well. Methinks I wasn’t immediately certain who it was, but I could tell she was isolated from the others, only barely able to parry attacks from the half-decade of Talon soldiers that surrounded her and were trying to strike her down.

Worse, she was starting to take hits; as I recognized her distress and approached, she blocked one sword with a wingblade only for a second to impact her side and knock her askew whilst steel claws raked her flank, leaving dripping red lines on both.

She wheeled and swiftly slew the gryphon who owned the latter but then was tackled in midair by another earth gryphon Talon who began to bring his blade to her throat, and within mere moments, he would succeed. Her movements were stilted and uncertain; ‘twas that plus her uncharacteristic inability to navigate her surroundings that made me not recognize her at first, but as I got closer, my stomach clenched.

“Blindside!” I called out frantically and raced to her rescue, a fresh adrenaline surge giving me extra speed. I attacked the sword arm of the gryphon holding her first, knocking his blade free, then grabbing it in the crook of my foreleg to pull it backwards, peeling him off her and flinging him away. That accomplished, I slew the remaining Talons quickly even as Blindside didn’t quite seem to understand what was happening, forcing me to dodge a panicked slash from her!

‘Twas then I grabbed her and shook her. “Sergeant!” I yelled at her, making sure she heard my voice. “It’s me!”

“F-Firefly…?” Blindside finally recognized, and with that, she hugged me hard in her hover and started sobbing, holding onto me like a lifeline. “Ma’am…” I could see her face at close range; see all the pain and fear on it. “I can’t see…” she told me shakily through her tears.

“Can’t see? What do you mean?” I asked, my voice a near-shout. I didn’t immediately take her meaning, given her one good eye looked fine and was clearly locking onto mine.

“My second sight… the storm…” She shivered in my grasp as I brought her back to her troops. “I-I can’t see anything through it… I fl-flew right into a decade… c-couldn’t get away… they were going t-to...” She broke down crying again.

‘Twas then I understood—she was saying her normally otherworldly awareness of her surroundings was ruined by the storm; she couldn’t use it when all the senses she relied upon to create it were completely saturated and overwhelmed by the combination of wind and rain, lightning and hail, leaving her very vulnerable… and very afraid. “It’s okay. I’ve got you…” I promised her as I led her back to her platoon, shouting in my blue crystal to pull back and regroup, hoping they heard me.

Fortunately, they did and broke contact quickly; I counted around thirty soldiers remaining from her platoon as they retreated out of combat and I caught up to them, meaning that they’d lost a fourth of their numbers. “Ma’am! Beg to report!” Corporal Shrike came up to me and saluted, his blades bloodied but showing some of his own blood from uniform tears over his chest where steel claws had slashed him. “Six down from 2nd and 3rd squads! We took out around forty Talons in return but they’re still pushing hard and methinks we can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” he reminded me, struggling to hold his hover in the face of the howling wind, a nearby lightning strike and its tooth-rattling BOOM! giving emphasis to his words as the strikes became more frequent.

“Agreed! Corporal Shrike, take over the platoon! Withdraw towards the cave and dispatch a flight to get Blindside into the infirmary—after confirming it’s clear of enemy forces! If it isn’t, clear it, and then station your platoon at the entrance! You will be our rear guard as the rest of the battalion makes our way to cover!” I ordered him, shouting even louder to be heard over the din; I could only pray at that point that whatever battle was happening inside the cavern was finished and won; once the storm had intensified I’d lost contact with them due to intense lightning activity.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He saluted again. “If it’s not, we’ll clear it!”

“Good. Now go!” I directed, gently moving a bleeding and shaking Blindside towards him.

Blindside accepted the help, but not before turning around and hugging me hard once more, “Th-thank you…” she managed before departing, allowing a platoon mare to guide her; I can only imagine how it felt to her to suddenly feel like a helpless foal again like that, stripped of her senses and all that made her such a fine warrior.

I can only too well, and ‘tis why I declined to write this section, Captain. You wouldst understand if I have no wish to relive that night and the battle beneath the storm for the sheer terror I felt within it! But methinks I will at least say this: thank you for saving me yet again, and know that my feelings for you only grew further for it.

—Blindside

I understand perfectly, my love. ‘Tis perchance ironic that I discovered my second sight that night even as you lost yours, but I am glad for it; for ‘tis what enabled me to find and save you!

—Firefly

As they departed to carry out their instructions, I checked in with other platoon leaders, at least the ones I could reach; aural interference from the intense lightning and static charge in the air was causing issues with our crystals—and, I’m sure, the Gryphon scrying networks. Fell Flight reported she and Stormrunner’s platoon were about to ambush a gryphon force charging in from the northwest. In contrast, Osprey was unreachable, Blue Bolt’s storm teams were now fighting as regular soldiers in flights amongst my other troops, and as for my fourth platoon, defending the southeast quadrant: “Lieutenant Snow Squall! Report!”

“This is Flight Sergeant Starling! Snow Squall’s dead, ma’am!” his first squad leader and the platoon commander he had replaced reported through audible tears. “He was leading our attack and took a direct hit from lightning! He’s gone!”

I closed my eyes at that. I hadn’t known him very long, but he had struck me as a fine stallion and officer, even fresh out of the Equestrian Officer Academy as he was. Though lacking our Guardspony-inspired training, he’d shown plenty of combat and command ability; I’d had no qualms about leaving him in charge in the absence of myself and Fell Flight when we were off leading the spoiling attack or attending the earlier parley. “Understood…” I offered up a silent prayer for him, but had little time to spare for it. “Take command, Flight Sergeant! What is your platoon’s status?”

“Fighting but faltering! We have thirteen down! The gryphons just keep coming and it’s getting harder and harder to stay in the air! We took out a couple turmas, but the hail’s getting worse and the Knights are wrapping around our flank!” Even grief-stricken as she was over the loss of their stallion leader, she was still a soldier and recited their situation quickly. “They’re massing in the clear air south of the storm! We’re being pushed back and if we don’t get out of here, we’ll get crushed and in another minute our only escape route will be right under the wall cloud, ma’am!”

I swore under my breath at that, knowing that likely meant a death sentence to see the lowering and rapidly spinning cloud base to my right through which glitters of growing hail could be seen in lightning strikes. Our plan had thus far worked; our efforts combined with the superstorm overhead had inflicted grievous losses, but with the storm nearing maturity, we were running out of time. “Withdraw your platoon towards the cavern, Flight Sergeant! Get your wounded inside the vault and help Shrike keep our escape route to it open!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” she called out as I called Shrike again to advise him to watch out for incoming friendly forces.

“Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt! Where are you?” I asked next, switching crystal frequencies.

“Here, ma’am!” To my relief, I got a quick answer. “Currently stationed with Blindside’s platoon defending the vault entrance!”

“Sergeant, you know the skies better than me! How long before the storm spawns a tornado?”

There was a pause as he appraised the situation. “At this rate, methinks it might not, ma’am! The storm’s flanking line is still weak!” he said, referring to a trailing front of stepped cumulus congestus clouds behind the mesocyclone that fed into the storm’s main body, continually powering it. “That means we’re not getting a strong rear flank downdraft, and without it? No tornado! And methinks the storm’s going to start running out of moisture soon! Once it does, the downdrafts weaken and odds of tornado formation go way down! We’ll also lose our cover of rain!”

I swore again, which was unusual for me. ‘Twas within our capability to build a tornado on our own, but ‘twould require the entire battalion to generate one strong enough for our purposes and if the storm structure was not able to support it, ‘twould fall apart once we fled—if it didn’t turn on us before that. For our final plan to work, we needed the storm to produce a large tornado on its own within five minutes, but without a full pegasi platoon to provide the final push to make it do so naturally, it wasn’t going to happen.

The storm needed more help. But most of my troops were engaged or falling back; by rough count we’d already taken nearly forty casualties and that number was only going to go up the longer we stayed out there, fighting beneath the storm. Yet if we simply broke contact and headed for our redoubt, the storm would not produce its ultimate weapon and we’d be vulnerable to attack for it, especially as the storm’s low pressure occluded and drew back into its main mass, uncovering our base. But it would take at least an entire platoon of pegasi to make a difference, and the only platoon unaccounted for was…

“Ma’am! Beg to report!” My train of thought was broken as I suddenly heard Fell Flight’s voice through my crystal, though the sound of it was distorted by the storm. “Osprey’s platoon is missing and Stormrunner’s platoon got hit from behind and has lost half its strength! We were forced to break contact and retreat back towards the vault! We can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” she reminded me.

My guts clenched at that, wondering if Osprey’s platoon, which was stationed in the area of the flanking line, had been ambushed and overwhelmed in the clear air beside the storm. “Copy that! Take position near the watchtower and interdict any attempt to flank Blindside’s platoon, which is holding position at the entrance!” I told her, then switched aural frequencies so I would be broadcasting to every communication crystal within range, including the building-mounted outpost ones, which dutifully picked up my transmission and boomed my voice throughout the base, just audible over the continuous rumble of thunder and violent winds that were now whipping back and forth.

“Flight Sergeant Osprey!” I shouted into my red gem, praying she was still alive and could hear me through the companion crystal in her possession. “If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”

With my sincerest apologies, commander, I did hear you, but we were otherwise engaged at that moment, and I could not grab at the gem on my belt.

Greetings, readers. I am Aves Osprey. After nearly forty years in the Corps and countless engagements spanning not just the war itself but one or more decades on either side of it, I still marvel at the fact I survived it all and now bear the rank of Colonel, currently commanding the Corps Canterlot garrison and perchance in line to become Commanding Corps General someday. ‘Tis a far cry from the young mare with a domineering mother who hated authority and blamed her frustrations on everypony except herself with great regularity.

Perchance ‘twas why I joined the Corps. I, like Fell Flight, needed to find productive outlets for my fighting blood and desired to find a cause I could serve. I found it there, though in my case, it took several years and methinks more than a few fights and duels before I finally understood that I was there to serve others and not myself. For it, my progress through the ranks was initially quite slow, but I eventually settled into a position of platoon leader. Rapid advancement for me happened during the war, as it did for so many; veteran soldiers were needed to train the newer ones and I soon found myself in such a role.

I will not discuss my initial issues with Gavian except to say they are long resolved and he did not deserve my hatred. Perchance ‘twas simply another manifestation of my tendency to blame others for the ills of my life; perchance ‘twas just that I made him the focal point for all my frustrations as I’d done with others in the past, including Fell Flight. But either way, methinks ‘twas not until he bested me and then spared me in a death duel that I truly matured into the soldier and warrior I became.

But that story is already told in the previous volume, and methinks I prefer not to dwell on it now. Perchance one day I will relate more of my tale, but ‘tis not the time here. I pick up the quill for the first time in this story at the Captain’s invitation, and leave her and the others to get some much needed sleep. In truth, Fell Flight and I are now the only ones to remain active at this late hour, the former to no surprise.

Perchance what is surprising is that the two of us collaborate for the remaining parts of this chapter, sharing experiences and editing each other’s work. ‘Tis a far cry from our initial hostile feelings towards each other, as I relentlessly hazed her when she was but a hatchling, as the Corps calls new soldiers fresh out of basic, first assigned to Omega, and she in turn paid me back for it ‘in spades’ as they say, when she finally jumped ranks over me two years later.

Into the Storm: Main Track

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Southwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

As the storm erupted and the gryphons struck, methinks my platoon actually had the easiest time of it.

We were stationed to defend the southwest quadrant, to the rear of the storm and far enough away from the main shaft that we actually had some clear air to work with and more manageable winds. The storm was still in its explosive growth stage, and within a minute had hit the top of the troposphere to begin fanning out into a characteristic anvil shape; bulbous mammatus clouds starting to protrude from the anvil’s bottom.

‘Twasn’t long before hail started falling from its upper reaches and began pelting us, though the stones were small to start; rain did not reach us yet as the main downdrafts were on the front of the storm and the rear flank ones would take some time to get started.

My time spent as a ‘Cyclone’, or Storm Corporal, on a weather team back at Omega had served me well.

“Omega! On me!” I shouted to my platoon of Outpost Omega veterans as several gryphon centuries came into view; as the fog cleared and they saw the monster we had created, I saw the lead Talons falter, begging their commanders to turn back.

Perchance they remembered the losses they had suffered in Gamma’s superstorm strike against Raptor base back in January, as retaliation for repeated Empire-sponsored raider attacks on Epsilon. But instead of heeding their warnings, the Knights ordered them forward, and though frightened (as well they should have been!), they obeyed, even as lightning began forking out through the air, striking the ground and, ‘tis certain, threatening to strike us all down.

There were ways to mitigate that, however. “Omega! Discard your helmets or their metal might attract bolts! And loosen your formations! Don’t fly too close to each other or ‘tis certain a single bolt might take out several at once! Now follow me!” I said into my blue gem, appraising the situation, then ordering my three squads to retreat back into just inside the storm’s main tower, hiding us from view and watching as the first hints of the flanking line began to form, a line of arcing cumulus reaching out from the storm’s rear as the warm air was undercut by the downdraft wrapping around the storm. We were buffeted by the latter, certainly, and the air was quite turbulent, but manageable at the outer edge of the storm.

Unlike the main storm, the flanking line that fed it was not dangerous to start, excepting the possibility of a landspout or two forming beneath it, as its updrafts were both gentle and easily ridden. We waited until the gryphons had neared—’tis certain they knew we were there and their commanders placed the several decades of Knights above the Talons, waiting to receive us should we suddenly reappear—before beginning our move. Their intent was clear enough; they would use the Knights to hold and weaken us whilst the Talons swept around to envelop us. Ragged raiders ‘tis certain they were not; these were trained soldiers who understood us and the tactics to use against us well.

But so were we, and methinks I wasn’t going to oblige them. My own experience and tactical skill was hard-learned; it had taken me nearly eight years to rise through the ranks at Omega just to make Flight Sergeant, which, I will note as she reads this beside me, Fell Flight took but two to reach.

As the stepped but still-shallow cumulus of the flanking line reached out a mile from the main cloud tower, we set out directly through it on my orders, following its gentle arc further out from the storm until we had passed the main gryphon formation and the Knights that were trying to shield them.

‘Twas my original intent to slash out from its base and ambush the Talons from behind before retreating back into the main storm area, but then…

“Ma’am! Look!” One of my squad leaders shouted. I turned to where she was pointing, and ‘twas then I noticed something through the frequent lightning flashes:

Following the main attack force and above the level of the flanking line was a smaller group of gryphons, including a Talon eagless in full chest armor and cape, whose shoulder insignia was that of a single eagle metal feather, gleaming bright in the electrically lit-up night.

A Tribune! By her rank alone, ‘twas likely she was second in command of the legion we faced. She was gaping at the storm and calling somewhat frantically into an odd contraption which I guessed was some kind of communication device; perchance trying to recall her forces before our supercell claimed them.

But the storm interfered with their scrying network as much as our dragonfire-based crystal communications, and she couldn’t seem to get through to whoever she was contacting, judging by her fearful tone.

She was flanked by around twenty others, a mixture of higher-ranked Talons and Knights, who were likewise trying and failing to reach their respective forces. In any event, ‘twas a command group that we had stumbled upon, and thus, a priority target. In any event, we did not want their attack to be recalled, and they were but fifty yards from the cloud top, so methinks my next decision was quite easy.

“Omega! Strike!” I ordered as I burst out of the cloud and my platoon followed, surging up towards them. For those that wonder, I called them Omega because that’s how we thought of ourselves, even after nearly nine months at Epsilon. For the heavy fighting and losses we oft bore the brunt of whilst stationed at Equestria’s most dangerous border base, those who served at Omega tended to identify with it even long after they left. Such it was for us, and methinks ‘twas doubly a rallying cry for us given we knew Outpost Omega was unlikely to survive the night.

Neither were we, I well knew, but as I said when we discussed surrender—’twas not even worthy of consideration for me or anypony else in my veteran platoon—if our sisters at Omega were fighting and dying, then we could do no less. My call into my blue command gem caused heads to turn from above, but ‘twas already too late. We shot out of the growing cumulus and were on them in seconds, and I took the Tribune for myself.

They were just able to draw their weapons but, hovering as they were, they were not able to set a proper defense or get in sufficient motion; methinks I took great pleasure in the surprise and sheer terror I saw on their Tribune’s face as I knocked her barely-drawn blade aside and then took off her wings with a sweeping slash on their upswing, hearing her shriek of agony and holding onto her by her foreleg for just a second to lock eyes with her and smile sweetly, ripping off her shoulder insignia as a trophy before dropping her to her death.

Perchance the modern pony might think this needlessly cruel. But quarter was never asked or offered in any fight we’d been through against raiders at Omega, and thus ‘twould be the same here. The rest of my platoon likewise made the most of their surprise and took out the bulk of their leadership in short order, though a half-dozen earth gryphon Knights and Talons survived by going back to back, succeeding in taking out two of my platoon, putting us down six counting the losses we’d suffered in the earlier actions that day.

Mayhaps we could have stayed to wipe them out out of sheer vengeance, and but a year or two earlier perchance I would have ordered us to do so. But though it had taken me a few years to understand the true meaning of duty and appraise situations properly, I now could, and thus I ordered my platoon back into the cover of the flanking line before they could summon reinforcements from below.

The cloud formation wasn’t growing as fast as it should have, but we could still use it to track back towards the main storm tower and engage the century or three of soldiers that got past us—if, that was, the storm combined with Fell Flight and Stormrunner’s platoon hadn’t already annihilated them, I thought hopefully to myself, pulling my red gem to call to them only to find that due to the storm, I could no longer reach them.

I admit to a little annoyance now, Osprey. Perchance you might have at least informed us before you struck as to what you were doing and to expect an attack from the left? They ended up ambushing us, you know!

With apologies, First Lieutenant, but ‘twas our original intention to engage them ourselves, whittling them down via ambush before falling back towards you. That changed when we saw the command group. Time was pressing and the opportunity was there, so I took it, and by the time I was able to call you, I could no longer.

Well. Perchance I might accept that, except your tenure at Omega was oft marked by sloppiness and failure to inform others of your intentions! Methinks more than once did your squad or platoon go out of contact in raider engagements. And methinks more than once were you upbraided for it, both by me and by Windshear!

As unmincing with words as ever, I see. And yet, I stand before you not just a veteran, but a Colonel now, having survived the war and even commanded a battalion of my own before the conflict was done. So ‘twould seem I did learn. In any event, as the fighting now shifts to you and I would not receive the call from the Captain for a few minutes more, perchance you should take up the story from here?

Perchance I will. Greetings, readers. If you read the first book, you know me and my story well, and I feel no need to recount it here, even though the Captain wishes this volume written such that new readers do not need to study the previous one. But as she is not here to direct me differently—perchance that is something we do have in common, Osprey—I will proceed with the story of the battle involving myself and Stormrunner’s platoon.

Dimmu Borgir - Alt Lys Er Svunnet Hen (2006 remake)

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Northwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours

To me, the superstorm exploding skyward over our heads and threatening to slay us all was not a monster, but a creation of greatest beauty.

An elegant instrument of destruction only pegasi could make or fight effectively within, ‘twas both invigorating and exhilarating to be out in the middle of, though I admit ‘twas certain I was given some pause when the first downdrafts struck us and I felt myself being buffeted, having a hard time holding formation and flight. And that was to say nothing of the massive—and very dangerous—static charge in the air; a point flown home when a bolt struck dangerously near; the shock wave of its passing staggering me and leaving me momentarily deafened while the faint tinge of ozone crossed my nose and tongue.

But we had a job to do and a trap to spring as the first sheets of rain began to fall, starting in the northeast quadrant of the storm where the commander was with Blindside’s platoon and then working slowly backwards around the periphery, though the main updraft remained clear for now.

That would change within minutes, though ‘twould not be rain falling from there—’twould be progressively larger hail, and to get too close to its base would be lethal even to pegasi, as ‘twould seem at least one gryphon century discovered quickly according to the Captain’s earlier account. The fog nearly gone, sucked up into the storm, we got a glimpse of a large formation of gryphons charging in from the northeast before the rain hid them—and us—from view again, their armor gleaming and glittering in the lightning strikes going through the cloud.

Since she failed to mention this before, perchance out of sleeplessness or distraction, I must explain that ‘twas the Captain’s plan—and here, I must note that though she was not a Captain at this moment, ‘tis still the way I always think of her—that we use the opening minutes of the storm to draw them in towards the updraft whilst we could still fight beneath it, using its elemental assault of wind, hail and lightning combined with our ability to (initially) fight effectively beneath it to whittle down their numbers before the storm matured.

Once it did and just before it turned tornadic, we would retreat to the bunker and let whatever monster vortex it generated destroy the gryphons following us, then wait out the storm from cover. And afterwards…?

Well. If there was an afterwards, whatever was left of us would make our final stand in the cavern, defending the vault doors. ‘Twould not avail us in the end, of course, but we could at least die knowing we inflicted far worse than we took, perchance crippling a legion.

For Cloudsdale and for all Equestria, that would have to be enough.

Unlike Snow Squall’s and Blindside’s platoons, we were not engaged right away.

Their formations and the storm itself initially concealed in the fog, they had not seen what we were building before it was too late. As midnight was reached, gryphons charged in from low altitude from multiple directions, and I saw some hesitation from their lead formations just before they were obscured.

“Should we go after them?” Stormrunner asked, the lightning throwing a greenish cast over his gold armor as the first small pings of hailstones were heard against it.

I appreciated his deference to me; even though we were equal in rank, and he could even make a claim to be over me by virtue of his title of Celestial Guardspony, he never asserted it. He simply accepted his place in the Corps chain of command, which subordinated him not just to the commander, but to me as her second.

“Aye,” I replied after a brief pause and a thin smile, appraising the situation just as I had countless times before during raider engagements at Omega. My own tactical skill had come from experience and from the lessons of Thunderbolt before that, who was my mentor just as Windshear was the Captain’s.

“We do not want them to decide to depart before the storm gets a chance to consume them. 2^nd platoon! On me!” I called into my blue gem, and Stormrunner’s squads formed up as best they could under the increasingly chaotic winds, keeping their formations loose and more widely spaced than normal at his orders to guard against what I’d once heard Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt term “splash damage” from lightning strikes into our midst.

Truly, there were times I thought the odd ‘Ogres and Oubliettes’ games he and his stallion-heavy storm teams favored playing during their off hours had gone to their heads, but his meaning was clear enough.

Still, as we set out towards the gryphon formations which had disappeared from sight about three hundred yards away, our own visibility was limited to perchance a sixth of that as the driving rain picked up, their sheets turned an odd shade of green in the barely-muted flashes of lightning that was forking through the cloud with greater frequency—or perchance ‘twas just my implanted light-dimming crystal lenses that imparted that effect; a result of the slightly bluish tint the sapphire crystals cast over everything.

I’d had them implanted to allow me to fight and see as effectively in the day as in night, but my ‘superlative’ night vision, as I’ve heard Corps eye doctors describe it as, did me little good here when ‘twas a struggle to see much in front of my nose.

What did me more good was the experience that came from a score or more of raider engagements and the training of my mentor. “Master Sergeant! Take 1^st and 3^rd squads in directly! I’ll head high with 2^nd squad to try and ambush them from above once their attention is on you!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He gave the standard Corps acknowledgment of an order I could just hear over the roar of the storm, calling his first two squads to him whilst I did the same for the third. Our blue command gems gave our voices just enough range to be heard over the din by squad leaders, and their subordinates who had not heard simply followed them.

‘Twas a good plan, but as I took 2^nd squad into just inside the cloud base to hide our approach whilst the Master Sergeant struck the incoming century from below, ‘twas quickly thwarted by a sudden call that he was under attack—not from ahead, but from behind!

We reversed our course immediately whilst I instructed Stormrunner to fire a red flare so we could see where he was. A brave and bold Talon Century had indeed struck him in his left rear flank—no innuendo intended to the former Master Sergeant—and in a reversal of what was supposed to be us ambushing them, he reported they’d lost six soldiers almost immediately to a volley of close range crossbow bolts and sword strikes.

Suddenly wondering where Osprey’s platoon had disappeared to and why they had failed to cover our flank—methinks I swore to buck her flank all the way to Mosclaw if she had gone off on her own again!—I attempted to carry out an ambush against the new group, only to all but collide with a turma of Knights who’d been anticipating the tactic and shielding the Talons from above.

Methinks they were surprised as we were and the battle quickly degenerated into a rather ugly melee, illuminated in strobe light fashion by the frequent lightning strikes that would have dazzled my thestral vision without my protective lenses. Indeed, methinks I said a silent thank-you to Iris Aid, the healer who had invented and implanted them into my eyes, more than once that night.

We could barely see or hold position at that point as we engaged them blade to blade as best we could, though the storm proved our ally by sending a lightning bolt into their midst, striking one of their Knights and then partially deflecting off her enchanted armor, branching out like a scattershot strike I’d seen our storm teams practice to find half a dozen other large metal bodies, which were almost uniformly Knight armor.

The powerful bolt—’tis worth noting that the bolts these superstorms produced were far stronger than naturally occurring ones, coming from military-grade pegasus storm clouds as they were—only slew the directly struck gryphon, whilst their enchanted armor saved the rest…

But only momentarily. They were all staggered by the electrical blow, their muscles convulsing for a moment, and though we were not unaffected—I felt an electric current go through me for a moment and at least one of Stormrunner’s platoon took a hit to her steel-helmeted head, sending her lifeless to the ground—our weather magic meant we could recover quicker.

And thus we did, as the earth gryphon Fortis Knight wearing the shoulder insignia of a Decurio—rather unusual to see them fighting in the air like this!—who’d been fighting me to a standstill found himself suddenly unable to defend himself; accidentally dropping his axe. I took immediate advantage and attacked his face, blinding him with a slash to his eyes and following that up with a downward strike to the exposed back of his head as it slumped forward, getting through his thin rear armor and severing his spine.

He fell dead whilst around me, 2nd squad was having mixed success. By my rough count we’d taken out a decade or so of Knights thanks to the lightning and their inability to fight at full strength or speed beneath the storm, but lost three of our own in the dangerously chaotic environment, and I quickly realized if we didn’t break contact the score or more that remained would likely overwhelm us; doubly so if the Talons should suddenly reappear.

My worst fears were realized when the force we’d originally targeted caught up to us, threatening to crush the platoon between their two groups. I shouted orders into my blue gem to escape back to the roiled cloud base despite the danger, but I then heard a shouted Aeric order in return reciting my words back in the gryphon tongue and telling his forces not to allow it—clearly, there was at least one Knight who spoke Equish in their mix!

“Their leader is ordering them to escape into the clouds! Eagle group! Come in high and do NOT let them withdraw or regroup! Cut them off, close in and KILL THEM ALL!” he ordered to my consternation, thinking both that the raider groups we dealt with at Omega would not be so brave or stupid as to continue combat under these conditions, knowing that even if they slew us, the storm would likely slay them!

‘Twas then I heard Stormrunner’s voice, leaving me in some relief he was still alive and had heard the call, knowing enough Aeric to recognize the enemy order and its proper counter. “Platoon! Break contact! Dive for the deck!” he ordered even though I was the ranking pony present, but ‘twas the right tactic so I did not countermand it, leading 3rd squad, now down a third its numbers, after him. We escaped with some difficulty, cutting a swath through the second group of Talons to do it but taking even more casualties in the process; when we broke out into the slightly clearer air below, I could see we were down to just over half strength with a dozen or more pegasus bodies littering the ground below along with two score of gryphons.

I closed my eyes briefly in prayer to the moon goddess. We’d taken plenty of casualties over the years at Omega, including thirty in a day once during the battle that Windshear had won his first Defender of Harmony award in. But this…?

If our losses were this bad; methinks I didn’t even want to think what the other platoons or outposts had suffered this day. We fanned out low over the base only to get buffeted by strengthening headwinds and larger hail the closer we got to the main updraft tower; its swirling and lowered wall cloud now clearly visible and ominous to the point that even the gryphons knew from sight alone to avoid it.

“Master Sergeant! I can’t contact the commander!” Stormrunner reported, showing me his small but non-working red command gem that was supposed to be linked to Firefly’s. “We can’t take another fight like that, ma’am!”

“I know…” I told him, pulling my own gem, which was larger and more powerful since I was second in command and had to have the same ability as my future Captain to command troops should she suddenly fall.

“Let me try mine! Ma’am! Beg to report!” I shouted into my command ruby crystal after we’d gotten some distance, hoping its greater magic and range meant she could hear me, even over the ever-more-violent storm. “Osprey’s platoon is missing and Stormrunner’s platoon has lost half its strength! We were forced to break contact and retreat back towards the vault! We can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” I reminded her, watching as a lightning bolt struck the vacated outpost watchtower, blasting a hole in its side and sending wood and stone fragments flying in every direction, some of the former on fire despite the heavy rain wrapping around the edges of the updraft. The rest of the buildings already had some of their windows blown out by the intense winds, though the walls and roofs still held for now.

“Copy that! Hold position near the watchtower and interdict any attempt to flank Blindside’s platoon, which is holding position at the vault entrance!” the harried voice came back, and then I heard it come again as she tapped into the base crystal array, her voice booming out, broadcasting basewide and, as she said, to every command crystal within range:

“Flight Sergeant Osprey! If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”

Again, my apologies for not replying, Captain, and for leaving Stormrunner’s platoon hanging before that. Though perchance my subsequent actions made up for it?

Devil’s Work

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Southwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0008 hours

I admit to having a sinking feeling in my stomach when I heard Stormrunner’s badly distorted call that he was under attack from what was likely the same force we had let go. My response that we were doubling back went unanswered, and ‘twas then I wondered if I’d just made a grave mistake.

Though ‘twas certain I could justify my actions by virtue of the command group we’d stumbled upon and slaughtered, methinks my first thought was indeed that Fell Flight would likely slay me for once again going off on my own and leaving Stormrunner vulnerable, if she was still alive afterwards and the Commander didn’t kill me for the same reason first. Methinks the former is correct in that I’d had the habit of going off after other targets at Omega and not informing others of my intentions.

But somehow, it always seemed the right thing to do at the time, and recriminations could wait. For now, ‘twas certain all we could do was try to rush back and ambush the force that ambushed them.

As we backtracked through the still-flaccid flanking line—I thought I might have seen a weak dust swirl on the ground below in one of the lightning flashes but had no time to check if ‘twas a landspout we might be able to use against any enemy pursuit—I saw other gryphon formations closing in around me; having perchance received the panicked calls of the command group that we were upon them. But they arrived too late to help, and did not see us. We, on the other hoof, needed to be able to see where we were going, so I ordered us to drop just below the level of the cloud so we could spot the force hitting Stormrunner’s flank in front of us.

Methinks I was not encouraged when I didn’t see them and aural interference increased to the point that I could not only not reach them, but I could no longer hear them. Looking around, I saw at least one instance where a mage shot some kind of spell into the cloud base only for it to backfire on her; the cloud erupted with lightning which lanced down all around her and struck down not just her, but several of her comrades.

The sparks then propagated upwards and outwards throughout the cloud, emerging out the top as anvil crawlers. The lightning ceased for only a few seconds before friction within the cloud from the strong updrafts and downdrafts quickly regenerated the storm’s static charge, and the bolts began flashing again.

We’d just about made it back to the main storm body when we ran headlong into the remains of a gryphon century retreating out of the cloud; methinks they were just as surprised to see us as we were them; and we soon found ourselves engaged with them.

Though this fight took place in clear air just outside the main cloud tower; they were exhausted by fighting both Stormrunner’s forces and the storm, whilst we were still relatively fresh and dealt with them easily, dropping another thirty before they hid in the clouds again. We were just finishing them off with the loss of another two soldiers when the Captain’s call came through, barely intelligible through the storm:

“Flight Sergeant Osprey! If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”

‘Twas nearly twenty seconds before we had broken contact and I could attempt a reply, only to find that once again, I could not get through. All I could do at that point was attempt to follow orders and hope the gryphons would not attack us as our instructions required us to operate outside the storm, in the clear air behind and above the flanking line.

Before I continue, a brief weather lesson is in order, one I hope might be worthy of Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt himself:

For those who are unaware, the flanking line is basically a trailing front of clouds formed by plunging air from the atmosphere’s middle levels—the rear flank downdraft—wrapping around the back of the storm and undercutting the more moist surface air it encounters, forcing it upwards and producing progressively larger cumulus congestus clouds the closer to the main storm body it gets.

The size of the flanking line ‘tis oft a measure of the supercell’s likelihood of producing a tornado, as the parent rotation cannot be brought to the ground without a strong downdraft wrapping into the mesocyclone—the storm’s low pressure area—from the rear, tightening and stretching the circulation vertically.

‘Twas our task, therefore, to produce and enhance that downdraft, which was only weak to that point, perchance because of feeble mid-level winds—not too surprising this close to Equestria, where natural weather patterns are suppressed. With more time, we could have provided that wind ourselves at the outset and gave the storm a push with it in the direction we wished it to go, but with only ten minutes to spare creating it, we barely had enough time to build the main storm structure and hope it would tap into enough natural wind for the task.

Unfortunately, and perchance fatally for us if we could not get a large twister to cover our retreat and sweep the base of gryphons before they could storm our weakened formations in the cavern, it did not. So that left it up to my platoon, still thirty-five strong. I did not know the fate of the other platoons at that point or what was going on elsewhere beneath the storm; nor had I heard a thing about the vault battle aside from the initial call that one was happening.

In any event, it mattered not. “Omega! It’s up to us! On me!” I ordered again after quickly passing word to my squads, sparing but a moment’s thought for our sisters at our former home, wondering if Outpost Omega still stood or if any still lived. And ‘twas indeed a sisterhood, methinks it bares repeating again, for those of us who served there; just being there six months entitled you to a special award and I belong to a society of surviving Omega veterans to this day.

We surged upwards just inside the storm tower, using its peripheral updrafts to soar skyward, into the atmosphere’s middle levels, climbing four thousand feet in the space of two minutes on its strength added to that of our wings. Normally we’d prefer a bit more height, but there was no time.

Turning on our wings, we burst out of the clouds into the clear air at that altitude; somewhat to my relief I saw no nearby gryphons as the landscape around us was illuminated clearly by continuous lightning—perchance the gryphon magus had learned their lesson about trying to use their lightning release spell on the cloud after their first had killed its caster?—and we fanned ourselves out to a distance of about a mile from the main storm shaft. We took position behind and above the flanking line, being pelted by hail now falling from the storm’s expansive anvil, which was stretching nearly to the horizon in every direction; neither the Mare in the Moon nor twinkling stars could be seen.

Again, if we could take our time with this and had sufficient numbers? Methinks we’d use at least a hundred pegasi for the job packed in over that distance, starting from higher altitude. But ‘twas time and numbers we did not have; every moment we wasted was one more in which the gryphons pressed in on our own battered base and forces. We were also putting ourselves in grave danger by operating in the clear like that; should another turma or two of Knights see us—and as our fur dye was white against a night backdrop, ‘twas a distinct possibility given gryphon night vision—we were dead, but perchance the glittering hail falling would camouflage us.

And perchance it did, as by Celestia’s grace, we were not attacked in the next minute. I had a storm team of four pegasi attached to my platoon—also Omega veterans; to little surprise they had asked to join my platoon for what we assumed would be our last stand—fighting as airborne infantry like the rest of us in the absence of storm clouds to fight with, so I ordered them to take command of the effort, functioning as squad leaders. They in turn ordered us into four elongated cone formations spaced a quarter mile apart, ones designed to mutually reinforce pegasi wind magic, and then, we took the literal plunge.

We pulled the air with us as we flew, our wings grabbing it and dragging it behind us as we increased speed, aiming ourselves to pass at a high angle beneath the flanking line’s flat cloud base, going nearly to ground before flattening out. I felt the rush of the air grow around me to the point I could no longer hear anything, including any additional orders that might have been given through my gem by the Commander as our plunging speed reached one hundred, then two hundred miles per hour.

We set more and more air in motion as we passed beneath the flanking line, and as we neared ground, I chanced a look back over my shoulder to see that our efforts were indeed having the desired effect. I saw the cumulus of the line begin to bulge up nicely as more air was forced up and into them from below, looking far more healthy for it. We then veered back towards the base and the main storm body, trying to turn its newly enhanced winds inward toward the circulation. We passed by a few startled groups of grounded or airborne earth gryphons at several points, who were immediately bowled over by the hurricane blast of our passing, but even if they knew our intent, ‘twas nothing they could do to stop it.

For we had already succeeded in our task, and we continued to ride our new gust front all the way back, not to enhance it any longer but simply to use it to speed our return to friendly lines and our final redoubt. Hoping we were now close enough for a transmission to get through, I called into my red gem again to announce our success and imminent approach, warning the commander that the battalion should take cover immediately, but again received no reply. ‘Twas difficult to see the mesocyclone over the desert dust our own winds had kicked up, but at that moment, the fate of the gryphons—and perchance ourselves—was sealed.

And Captain, if I may ask, why are you up again? Methinks you left for bed scarcely two hours ago.

With apologies to you this time, Colonel, I couldn’t sleep and perchance my worries are getting the best of me again. ‘Tis nearly sunrise anyway, and I normally rise at dawn as a matter of course. Some military ponies simply never shake the habit of reveille even long past their careers. ‘Twill be awhile before I can see father again, so methinks I will review your writings and perchance finish off this chapter.

I see that you and Fell Flight have written much in my absence. To answer your question, yes, I admit I was ready to come down on you hard for going out of contact without explanation, but ‘twould seem you had good reason, spotting who I can only assume was the Tribune we’d had the earlier parley with along with a plethora of other commanders.

I still think you could have spared at least a few seconds to attempt contact of Stormrunner or Fell Flight to announce your intentions, which would have allowed them to expect a second force from your side, but in your place, methinks I would have fretted about losing the chance or having reinforcements show up should I delay.

Wind beneath the clouds at this point. I thank both you and Fell Flight for contributing so much to this tale, telling the sides of it I cannot. ‘Tis now time for me to finish this chapter, as methinks ‘twill give both me and father when I later read it to him some ongoing distraction. In the meantime, I grant you both leave to get breakfast from the cafeteria.

And Fell Flight? Perchance you could leave at least a few mangos for the rest of us this time?

No promises, Captain!

Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Central Area
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0015 hours

‘Tis said that of all combat actions a military force is required to perform, a fighting retreat is the most difficult one.

Methinks I was learning the truth of that statement quickly as I attempted to manage one through violent winds and still-growing hail, which was increasingly replacing the rain as the storm’s primary precipitation, either due to a strengthening updraft or the storm’s expected transition to a low-precipitation supercell as its fog-fed moisture supply ran out.

‘Twas a chaotic fight; very difficult to keep any semblance of control over at times, and to their credit, the gryphons were doing their best—and perchance worst—against us even given the severe impediments they were operating under. And yet, they had not faltered, even staring the superstorm and their own heavy losses in the face; they continued to press forward despite the lightning strikes picking them off one by one and the progressively larger hail pummeling them.

We were being pressed by numbers approaching a rough cohort, trying to hem us into a smaller and smaller area whilst we tried to hold them back long enough for the storm to unleash its final surprise. But the supercell was still showing no signs of generating a tornado from its rotating wall cloud; the gryphons were now in perfect position for one, but without it?

Without it, methinks we had but minutes to live; even if we retreated to the vault now, they’d come hard on our hooves and charge in with us, denying us our redoubt. Their numbers would tell against my increasingly battered battalion, and then ‘twould be all over.

‘Twas then my command gem lit up and vibrated to announce a transmission, and methinks I might have heard Osprey’s voice over the crackling interference and very loud wind noise in the background. “Osprey?” I shouted back into it. “Where the hay ARE you?”

To my frustration, she went on as if she hadn’t heard me. “Ma’a… if you can… we’re on our… was successf… rear fl… inbound... take cover!” By Harmony or perchance the simple fact that she was getting closer, the last two words came through loud and clear along with a sudden hurricane rush of warm, dry wind at ground level as opposed to the cold rain-generated downdrafts of the storm’s forward flank, turning inward towards the main circulation. It reacted instantly, visibly strengthening and stretching from the added inflow.

‘Twas at that moment I felt my ears pop and, knowing what it meant, methinks I instantly upgraded my intentions towards Osprey from kill to commend.

Tornado Warning

“All platoons! Break contact! Retreat to the vault now!” I shouted into my red and blue command gems at once, praying to be heard over the loud and growing roar as the circulation gathered strength and a small dust swirl beneath the base of the wall cloud quickly grew into a larger one, an initially needlelike funnel quickly expanding into a trunk just off the western end of the outpost.

With the magnitude of the downdraft wrapping into it, feeding it from below, it had now the fuel and inflow to strengthen and widen further, and did so, quickly surpassing half a mile in width. But its influence was felt far beyond that; I felt its winds and suction already tugging at me even in its immature stage, and ‘twas all I could do to make my way to shelter.

Not everypony was so lucky as several of Osprey’s returning platoon were unable to escape the pull of what I would guess were its 250-mph winds, visibly screaming as they were sucked into the circulation along with dozens and then hundreds of gryphon soldiers from above and below.

The earth gryphons that had proven surprisingly formidable in aerial combat fared the worst; their wings were simply not strong enough to escape the suction, whilst about half the sky gryphons belonging to the mingled cohort were likewise all but inhaled by the monster vortex, which now took a wedge shape from the lowered cloudbase, its horrifically large and churning mass both backlit and illuminated from within by lightning, carving a swath right across the edge of our base and the canyon itself.

I was forced to watch as our watchtower and most of our base buildings fell to its force, crumbling before it, though by luck or happenstance, the walls of our two-story headquarters building including my stateroom survived a glancing blow with nothing more than blown-out windows and a ripped-off roof. Standing guard before the vault entrance with Shrike’s platoon, I waited as long as I dared for stragglers to come in—which did include two of Osprey’s platoon who got sucked up and then miraculously thrown back out, both badly battered and bleeding, flayed alive by the vortex and barely able to fly—I ordered the Vault doors closed.

Using their innate magic to anchor themselves to the Earth itself, the six remaining members of our earth pony maintenance crew pushed the large metal doors shut against the wind, helped somewhat by levitation spells from our healer team—who, I was shocked to see, had been reduced by half. I wondered why Still Way wasn’t helping only to see him lying exhausted on the ground following his duel with not one but two gryphon mages, who I could likewise see lying dead along with a score of gryphon and diamond dog corpses.

I didn’t know what had happened during the battle there, and I couldn’t consider the question or look for Gavian just then. Instead, my gut clenched when I saw a wounded Shrike struggling to hold on against the wind—he’d taken a crossbow bolt to the hip but was still at his post, commanding the rear guard I’d given him, but he no longer had the strength to fight the wind and his frantic platoon mares couldn’t reach him as he began to be sucked backwards towards near-certain death.

Ignoring pleas to halt, I went out after him, taking the full force of the hurricane gale and then yanking him forward. Methinks I just managed to pull him inside before the Vault doors closed with a resounding CLANG!, sealing us away from the superstorm and leaving the gryphons to their fate.

‘Twas only then as I looked around that I saw our sharply reduced ranks, and realized how many of my own forces had fallen.

‘Twas only then I wondered if we had truly won anything and if the cost to my base and battalion was worth it.

If I may say, very well-written, Captain. I have brought you breakfast, including some of that new Zebrican ‘coffee’ import you so seem to favor, and yes, I did even leave you some mangos. Methinks if I have any regrets in this life, ‘tis that I did not discover their joys sooner!

Thank you, First Lieutenant. I know you prefer to be called Emissary now, but methinks Lieutenant is simply the way I always think of you for as long as you stood at my right hoof. You served as my second in some capacity for the better part of two decades and never sought to be more than that despite the fact that you had more than ample opportunity to receive a permanent command of your own.

Because ‘tis certain I knew in my heart my place was at your side, Captain, and when it came down to it, methinks I wanted to be there. You were the best commander I ever had, and I gladly served as your second for it. Methinks I can give you no higher a compliment than that.

Considering you were once under the command of Windshear himself, methinks that is high compliment indeed! I thank you for the honor and trust you showed me for all those years and thank you in return for seeing fit to stay with me, for ‘tis certain many of my accomplishments were only possible due to your presence. Methinks ‘twas General Fairweather herself who once said that no commander was successful without the competency and loyalty of their second, and ‘twas very much true with you.

And now, I offer the final part of this chapter to Commodore Shady, who just arrived from Stalliongrad to visit her former first officer. I had not planned for her to contribute to this chapter, but upon reading the Admiral’s earlier contribution, there is an additional and somewhat surprising tale of her battle group’s approach to Epsilon she wishes to relate.

Thank you, Captain. I do wish to visit with Tailwind, but as he is still quite weak and sleeping again, ‘twould seem this is the best use of my time.

Wild North
140 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0350 hours

With little more than an hour before arrival at Epsilon, the mood aboard the Loyalty was best described as tense.

Methinks the feeling I had was something akin to seeing a bad storm approach and waiting for it to break, and ‘twas not an invalid analogy as we watched the superstorm spend its fury from afar.

We knew by then ‘twas indeed a desperate last-ditch defense by the Epsilon garrison, and ‘twould seem it had worked to devastating effect as more chatter was heard on the gryphon scrying network announcing a failed strike and crushing casualties; shaky Aeric voices describing a monster storm and accompanying twister that had torn their attacking formations to shreds whilst pleading for magus healers and reinforcements to keep Epsilon contained.

Both were promised, and worse, an eavesdropping Ensign Kusema reported they planned a fresh and final strike against the battered base before daybreak; one that, with their storm cloud cache spent and now down at least a third of their strength (both according to gryphon sources), the garrison’s exhausted battalion had no chance of surviving.

‘Twas a grim report, but one we drew great heart from. For incredibly, nearly twenty hours into the invasion, Epsilon not only still stood, but by all gryphon reports had accounted for nearly a fourth of a legion—a heroic stand indeed, and one that I could only hope would be rewarded with our rescue. It also, as Tailwind himself pointed out, made our escape from Epsilon easier if their forward forces had been thinned out for it.

We could only hope, for unlike our circuitous ingress route, our only chance to escape was to make a mad dash for friendly lines and hope our fuel reserves held out that long, to say nothing of our combat worthiness. With daybreak but ninety short minutes away, we’d been at general quarters for nearly two hours as we made the final turn for our objective and proceeded at flank speed.

‘Twas then, as I checked with Aries Azimuth and a slightly frantic Flash Fix as to our progress and the ship’s status—the latter was very nervous, not about our imminent engagement but our rapidly dwindling fuel reserves—that I made one final decision I knew Tailwind would not be happy with, but one ‘twas certain to me I needed to make.

“Ensign Kusema, order the group to reduce speed from flank to full,” I instructed, closing my eyes as I awaited the inevitable explosion. “We need to save enough fuel to reach friendly lines.”

A Question of Command

‘Twas not long in coming. “But ma’am!” Commander Tailwind protested loudly despite my preemptive explanation. “You heard the reports—they’re only holding on by their hooftips! We have to get there before the gryphons strike again!”

With effort, I held my normally cool temper in check. Under most circumstances, methinks I wouldn’t have gotten so angry, but in the end, ‘twas certain I was as tense and on edge as every other pony present, even if I was doing my best not to show it.

“As you were, Commander,” I bit out, letting only the barest of ire into my voice. I did not want to relieve him, but methinks I was actively considering doing so as he had done little but pace and inspect everything repeatedly for the past hour, raising tension levels on the ship even further. “Mister Sora, you have your orders. Carry them out.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” He pulled back with a hoof on the speed control lever with a slightly wary glance over at Lieutenant Azimuth, who was heads-down at his own station but kept an ear pointed at us. “Reducing speed to full.”

“Belay that!” Tailwind ordered, even though he had no authority to do so.

With that, I very deliberately turned to him. “I beg your pardon, Commander?” I put heavy emphasis on his lower rank. “You are not the Captain here!”

“Well, mayhap I should be!” he retaliated, fire in his eyes. “For your gross negligence if not outright cowardice! This is twice now you’ve ordered us to delay our arrival, and for what?” He bared his teeth at me, which would normally result in getting immediately thrown in the brig if you did it to any superior officer, let alone your Captain. “For fuel reserves? Who cares when we can move our ship by wind from our pegasi?

“Or perchance you’re just hoping that if we hang back long enough, they’ll be wiped out to the last pony and we won’t have to make a rescue at all? That we can spare the battle group whilst at least saying we tried to rescue them, gaining glory whilst winning no victory? Methinks Luna would be ashamed of such dereliction of duty, ma’am! And methinks I should relieve you here and now for it!” He brandished his wingblade, a desire to duel in his eyes.

The bridge went deathly silent at that, everypony wondering what I would do for such gross insubordination.

I was considering the question myself as I very deliberately stood up and turned to face his significantly larger form, standing eye to eye with him, my sheathed naval saber prominent.

“Now you listen, and you listen well, Commander Tailwind. I understand you are under a great deal of stress right now, as are we all. But I am Captain, and I will not brook your challenge to my authority!” I flared my horn to restrain him with a paralysis spell, preventing him from moving or speaking until I had said my part; methinks he looked stunned at my use of such a spell on him.

“I am responsible for this ship and this crew, as you yourself reminded me not twelve hours ago! This mission was my choice, so don’t you dare call me a coward when I’m risking the group and defying the Admiral’s orders to make this rescue!” I let him see and hear my anger even as I was struggling to maintain the spell. My magic simply doesn’t work the same way that of other unicorns do; to this day, even standard spells tend to be taxing to me.

“Methinks I owe you no explanation, but you’ll get one anyway—you wouldst have us charge in as quickly as possible, but you wouldst doom both our ships and the Epsilon battalion by doing so! For even if we do proceed at flank speed and arrive before the predawn strike, what then?” I asked, making sure my voice was heard by everypony on the bridge.

“Then we’ll have to fight off an incoming attack in the dark whilst simultaneously evacuating Epsilon, giving both our gunners and our pegasi air wing a severe disadvantage against gryphon night vision! We can’t fight or save what we can’t see!” I reminded him heatedly.

“But if we let them hit the base first, then ‘tis far less likely they’ll see us approach! They won’t be expecting anything but friendly forces from the gryphon side of the border and we can get in a devastating first strike against their deployed units!

“And as for your claim that we could escape by wind alone, you of all ponies should know that the best we can do even under full sail and gale is one-third speed! We couldn’t possibly outrun the gryphons then and their remaining cohorts would catch us and crush us!” I stood nose to nose with him as I spoke.

“As such, we will need enough fuel for at least one hundred miles of flank speed to have any chance of escaping pursuit and reaching friendly air cover! Am I wrong?” I challenged him, loosening my grip just enough to allow him to shake his head even though he still couldn’t speak.

“Am I wrong?” I asked again a little more sharply when I did not immediately get an answer. I did not like having to restrain him or dress him down like that in front of everypony, but he had to get the message that I was in charge, and he was assuredly not thinking clearly.

Finally, he gave me a terse shake of his head.

I relaxed at that, but only slightly, trying to hold on to my faltering spell for just a few seconds longer. “Good. Now let us be clear on the disposition of duties one final time, Commander Tailwind: I am the Captain of this ship! And all of my orders are directed towards giving us the best chance of completing the mission, which means both making the rescue and escaping afterwards!” I spelled it out. “And that means we time our arrival for dawn, when we will have the light of day to see by and Celestia’s sun at our back, masking our approach!

“I do not want to relieve you, but methinks you are making it very difficult for me not to! So if you do not wish to spend the rest of this trip in the brig and have any chance of participating in the Epsilon rescue, I highly suggest you mind your tongue and remember where your duty lies—to the survival of this ship and the completion of its mission, not to your daughter! Is that bucking clear?” I asked him with a sharp shake of his uniform lapels from my aura, my rare use of profanity getting the attention of everypony on the bridge. ‘Twas at that point I finally released him from my magical grip and stepped back, readying to rear up and draw my saber if he demanded a duel with my captaincy at stake.

To my relief, he did not, his expression going chagrined. “My… my apologies, ma’am.” He finally managed once he was able to move and speak again, his brow sweating and legs shaking. “Y-you are correct on all counts, Captain. I… I am emotionally compromised. And I fear I am not fit for duty for it. Request permission to leave the bridge and go above decks to clear my head, ma’am.” He asked in a far more respectful tone, snapping to attention and saluting.

“Granted,” I told him with a far more level voice, returning the gesture. “You are far too good an officer to forget your place and your duty, Commander. So go get some air and then check on Engineering. Confirm that the weapons crystal is charged, and get a drink from Flash Fix if you need—methinks ‘tis certain he has some. And once you have regained your focus and are ready to assist with our final approach to Epsilon, return to the bridge. Engagement is but ninety minutes away—or sooner should they spot us—and I need you to help me manage the battle.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he told me with a second salute, and then left the bridge without another word.

The silence around me stretched on after he left as I went back to my captain’s seat and sat down in it. “Captain…?” Lieutenant Sora finally called out.

“What is it, Lieutenant Junior Grade?” I answered a little more sharply than I meant to, my emotions still roiled and raw.

“I, uh, just wanted to say… well done, ma’am,” he offered cautiously.

“Thank you,” I acknowledged, though I’d taken no pleasure or satisfaction in any of it. “Is that all?” I further asked, seeing he was hesitating.

“Well, uh…” he glanced back and forth at the other bridge crew members before he asked his next question, receiving a couple nods back. “Forgive me for asking, but… might we have some of that drink ourselves, ma’am…?”

“Seconded. Methinks we could all use some, ma’am,” Lieutenant Azimuth added.

I smiled at that. “In Luna’s day, ‘twas tradition to double the Royal Navy rum ration after a won battle,” I told them, “and thus shall we do here! If we win, then we drink. I do hear that Flash Fix has been brewing some excellent moonshine right under my nose. ‘Tis past time I try it, and I promise all may partake to their heart’s content once we are safely back!”

The cheers and hoofstomps that followed were thunderous.

I admit to feeling some guilt about relating this story whilst my former second and current Admiral lies weak in recovery with his fate uncertain, but methinks he will approve, as he was always one to admit his own shortcomings. I relate this tale not to denigrate him, but to show the intense pressure we were all under, and that none were immune to it after a ten-hour trip to war.

Tailwind perchance least of all as he spent the entire time fretting over the fate of his adopted daughter and grandson. ‘Twas understandable, but still unacceptable that he would turn on me like that and put their welfare above that of his ship, but so long as he realized that in the end, I would not relieve him.

In truth, I wonder to this day how I was able to hold together so well myself on that long journey with little more than my own silent fears to keep me company—fear of death, certainly, but mostly fear of failure; fear of the bad luck which had haunted me for all my life interceding here and dooming not just me, but all under my command.

I would learn this night that for as much grief as it had caused me over the years, ‘twas an equally potent weapon against enemy forces as well.

Thank you for sharing this story, Commodore, which yet again was one I never knew. We who bear the title of Hero of Equestria are so often depicted as unconquerable warriors and paragons of military virtue who never faltered or failed, but the truth ‘tis far more nuanced.

It does not surprise me that father reacted this way given his love for me and Gavian, and ‘twould be a lie to say I did not nearly succumb to my own internal crisis sometime later, forgetting myself and my duty in much the same manner. For that reason, I do not hold it against him, and I commend you for dealing with his outburst so effectively, asserting your command and backing him down without arresting him or resorting to a duel.

But for the remains of Epsilon now holed up in our empty storm cloud vault, effective resistance no longer seemed possible from my exhausted battalion, down sixty soldiers and with no storm clouds left to defend ourselves with.

As such, methinks the penultimate and final chapters of the Epsilon battles will be written by me and me alone. For after all this time, ‘tis my turn to reveal something I kept secret from everypony for all these years…

“There are two types of people in this world: those who crawl under their bed in a storm, and those who charge, arms wide and without fear, into its very midst and dance.”

Author's Notes:

*Exhales loudly*

For the record, doing these graphics was an entire weekend of work plus a couple weekday evenings before that. As it turned out, the site problem with displaying external images worked to my advantage as it gave me enough time to finish them before the issue was resolved.

But I never do things halfway, especially for a chapter as big and climactic as this. Could I have released it without graphics? Sure, but no matter how well I described it in text, a picture is still worth a thousand words and makes the battle and storm structure (hopefully) much easier to follow. Hopefully also makes clear how the storm works and where various features of it were located/what they were trying to do. I'm a bit of a weather junkie and have watched tons of tornado and stormchaser videos, which I'm sure show clearly here.

Sorry for the delays in getting this out, but it had to be perfect or as close as I could make it. Helping in that effort was, of course, my prereading team of AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, and Denim_Blue, who seemed to have fun picking at it. I still owe you guys responses on all your comments! I'll get to them in a couple days. You'll understand if I need a break from this first.

Part 15 - Facing Fate

Dear readers—

As I was starting into the story of the final Epsilon battle whilst eating my breakfast, I received a surprising visitor—Ambassador Kaval and his wife, Marquess Kamilya Ampok, came to offer their respects and well-wishes to my father.

But as he was still sleeping and not ready to receive visitors yet, we chatted and I offered up our latest writings for their inspection. What you are about to read is at the suggestion of the latter, who expressed an interest in knowing how those under my command took what they assumed would be their final hours, and what we did during them.

As I thought about it, I realized ‘twould indeed make an excellent addition, and perchance provide a respite to the readers—and the writers—between two heavy combat chapters. And in truth, there is a great deal that happened in those few hours, many stories and revelations that were shared.

‘Tis a window into the minds of doomed soldiers, and how we readied to meet our end—with equal parts fatalism and fanaticism, regrets and remembrances… and perchance a measure of gallows humor.

Awaiting the End

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0445 hours

An hour before dawn found the battered remnants of my battalion readying for what we knew would be our final stand.

The superstorm had spent itself in under an hour, to little surprise; once it ran out of the humid air that was its fuel, it could not sustain itself and fizzled quickly. We’d heard the wind and lightning noises die down and finally cease in that time as we nursed our own losses and tended our wounded as best we could.

‘Twas not easy with half our healer team down, including, to my sorrow, their leader, Sergeant Herbal Balm. He had been slain by the second Diamond Dog breakthrough during the brief battle, to the grief of his team who had then taken bloody vengeance on the Diamond Dogs that Swift Strike had bypassed because they were stunned by his shock gems. I’d received the full after-action report from those present—after I had found and hugged Gavian, who tried so hard to ‘keep his bearing’ as he’d heard us term it, but finally collapsed in my arms crying when he found me. His blade was bloody but he bore no wounds of his own to my great relief.

“Be proud, for he fought superbly, commander. He took down a Fortis Knight all by himself,” Swift Strike confirmed as I held my sobbing son close. The Sky Sergeant was nursing his own injuries; he’d been peppered by crystal fragments from an explosive bolt that had ominously detonated not on contact, but simply by passing near him. Whatever magical chicanery there was that allowed for such a thing, ‘twas certainly a dangerous new weapon for the gryphons to have, and worse, we had no way to warn Corps Command or Canterlot of it.

Then again, we had no way to inform anypony of our predicament or what we had done; that we yet lived. I conservatively estimated the losses we’d inflicted on the gryphons as well over a millennium of soldiers, but in the end, their now-dead tribune—I admit I was even more inclined to forgive Osprey for going out of contact once she showed me her rank insignia trophy; my only regret was that I had not been able to do the deed myself—had been correct: for all we had done, none would know of our stand here; only that in the end, we fell like all the other border bases.

But we weren’t done yet. Out of the 220 soldiers and staff originally assigned to Epsilon, a roll call revealed that only 148 were left. The rest were casualties of the storm and the gryphons, and of those who remained, most were wounded to one extent or another, nursing everything from severe hail bruises to blade and bolt wounds.

Osprey’s platoon had fared the worst on that score; they’d gotten through the initial battle phase of the superstorm attack nearly unscathed only to lose fifteen soldiers to the horrific tornado suction, pulled to the same gruesome fate as the gryphons. Incredibly, three had been thrown free of the vortex and straggled in afterwards, flayed alive by the windblown debris and in no shape for further action.

The remaining healers were doing what they could, but with the loss of most of their supplies in the battle and much of their magic spent during it, several more soldiers succumbed to their wounds. By the time 0500 hours was reached, I had perchance 130 exhausted effectives left, whilst the gryphons…

Even assuming a millennium and a half of losses from the previous day’s actions, that still left them with seventy percent of a 5,000-strong Talon legion to hit us with, never mind what reinforcements they could pull from other, more successful sectors of the front.

In truth, they needed but a fraction of that for the shape we were in. We had made preparations to receive them, but with our storm clouds gone, there was little we could do beyond barricade the vault doors and not stay concentrated in one place lest they break in again. The unicorns had done what they could do to prevent any further Diamond Dog intrusions into the cavern from any direction, whether floor, wall, or ceiling, though they warned me that their suppression spells would not last forever and the dogs might still manage a breakthrough with enough effort and gryphon magus support.

With dawn still an hour away, but not knowing how much time we had left, we held a brief funeral service for our fallen, piling their few primary feathers we had into a chest along with some hastily written notes and mementos from surviving soldiers to their friends, families, and loved ones.

For myself, I submitted a full accounting of our actions that day and a list of recommended commendations: The Sapphire Star for many soldiers, and for Gavian as we were allowed to award military medals to civilians attached to a unit. The Sapphire Sun for Swift Strike for in large measure winning the Vault battle by himself, saving the lives of the healers and civilians in the process, and ultimately saving the entire battalion by ensuring we could still retreat there when the tornado struck. The Royal Guard’s Guardian Goldstone for First Sergeant Still Way for taking down two gryphon mages by himself in a feat few unicorns could accomplish.

I further asked that honorary Equestrian Army ranks and Opal Spear medals be awarded to our earth pony civilian maintenance crew, who fought as infantry and suffered two dead in the cavern but did not let the Talons break their lines. Archer Agates were requested for the healers who had taken up longbows in the base’s defense, and who had each accounted for several enemy soldiers during the day, primarily during the initial Talon attack and then the Vault battle that followed.

‘Twas only with great reluctance I recommended the Dove of Fidelity—a rather ugly and unhappy award given for being the sole survivor of a lost unit—for Sergeant Sky Sentry at his own request. He added a note to his son and a series of additional primary feathers to the chest he would only say came from mares he knew at Delta before he broke down and cried again. He declined further explanation or decoration, saying he did not wish any reward for being the sole survivor of Delta, nor for taking down a Fortis Knight with his bare hooves. He then went off by himself in a dark corner of the cavern, still trying to come to terms with all that had happened to him.

I also recommended promotions for many, including Corporal Shrike to Sergeant and Second Lieutenant Snow Squall posthumously to First Lieutenant, as the former had performed well commanding the rear guard platoon in Blindside’s absence, whilst the latter had proven every bit the officer and leader he’d been advertised to be. Methinks he was a ‘poster foal’ for the Equestrian Officer Academy, leaving me in deep regret I would never be able to attend it myself.

Once full, the chest was buried eight feet deep and hidden via what was termed to me a ‘shelter spell’ by Still Way, consisting of a series of layered enchantments that would both mask it from detection and preserve its contents indefinitely. It was cast by Still Way himself using magic pulled from the remaining healers, since he had little left of his own. Serene to the end, he promised me ‘twould draw on the natural magic of the area to continuously power itself and not be found by all but the most determined Magus, and only if they knew it was there and at least the rough area to look for it.

Unfortunately, that also meant ‘twas unlikely to ever be found by our own side as well. ‘Twas our perchance forlorn hope ‘twould ever be unearthed, and as we knew we were not likely to survive this morn, knowledge of its existence would die with us.

The hole was filled and then trampled hard underhoof, followed by moving a supply chest or two containing dummy possessions on top of it as a ruse. With that, we had done all we could, and settled in to simply wait. The remains of my squads and platoons mingled together around firegems scattered throughout the cavern, spending what little time they had left in each other’s company, sharing a meager last meal of plain hay and even a drink or two—trust the maintenance crew to have slipped in a small keg of their moonshine!—reminiscing about fallen friends and those they were leaving behind.

‘Twas no different for myself and the rest of the senior staff, who had our own gathering in the center of the cavern. “This is it, my friends,” I told them by flickering firegem light as we poured the last few drops of the moonshine for ourselves, partaking only after the rank-and-file had their fill. “We have no more tricks and no more clouds. No chance of rescue nor of surviving another fight. Methinks all we can do now… is take a few more of them with us.”

“And so we shall!” Fell Flight proclaimed, flashing her pointed thestral teeth. “I want another Wind Knight scalp before I fall!”

“So do I. ‘Tis a noble end,” Osprey said solemnly. “We did our duty and did Equestria proud. Even if our own side does not know of our stand this day, ‘tis certain the gryphons will never forget!” She held up her tribune shoulder insignia trophy in reminder.

She received but some weak cheers for that—we were all exhausted from a day of constant fighting and little sleep. “May it be enough,” I told them all, then turned to Swift Strike, whose stature was small but whose heart and combat capability were completely outsized. “Any regrets, Sky Sergeant?”

He thought about that, then chuckled. “Just one, methinks. I would have liked to visit my favorite pub in Trottingham one last time,” he told me with a wistful sigh. “‘Tis run by my aunt, and methinks they had the best chips and ale in the province. I made it a point to try and visit it—and her—before every operation, assuming it might be my last time seeing them. Because for all the missions into gryphon territory we took, ‘tis certain you never knew when it would be.”

“Sounds rather fatalistic, Sky Sergeant,” Stormrunner noted. He’d actually come through the supercell fight better than me, picking up only a few bruises and armor divots whilst I was dealing with a painful if shallow bolt wound in my hip as well as a collection of scrapes and steel claw slashes on my forelegs, ones that had found or forced a couple gaps in my armor.

“’Tis the way of the Lances,” he replied succinctly. “We fully expect to die in the course of duty one day, and we never expect Equestria to know of our deeds or ends. When we fall in battle, our deaths are typically recorded as training accidents or illness, and only months after the fact.”

“Really? Then do not even the Lances themselves know?” I had to ask.

He hesitated for a few moments before answering. “We have a monument dedicated to our dead upon which our names and service records are inscribed in code,” he finally admitted. “I cannot say where it is.”

“Cannot or will not?” Osprey challenged.

“Whichever you like, Flight Sergeant.” He raised an eyeridge at her, causing some more chuckles. “Tell me, have you any regrets or family of your own?” he then asked her.

Osprey only shook her head, though I thought I might have caught a glimmer of anger in her gaze. “Nopony worth remembering, no. As far as I’m concerned, my only family is Omega and the Corps. Which means I get to die with them right here.”

“Oh, really? No stallion in your stable, then?” Fell Flight asked with a smirk, not above tweaking her even then.

Osprey looked annoyed at the question. “No.”

“And why not? Perchance because your Corps career meant you couldn’t have one? Or perchance because your flank was too thin?” Fell Flight teased with a lopsided grin in continuation of the back-and-forth banter and insults they had constantly indulged in.

In response, Osprey gave her a level look. “Perchance because I prefer mares, Master Sergeant,” she informed her blandly, and then punctuated her statement by giving Fell Flight a lascivious look and wink, causing the latter to flush whilst the rest of us began to laugh.

Seeing her longtime rival’s reaction, Osprey’s eyes gained a sultry gleam as she went on. “And actually, methinks I do have one regret, Fell Flight—that I was not able to share my proclivities... with you!” As she spoke, she gave Fell Flight a slow, languid lick of her tongue, causing her blush to deepen as the rest of us roared in further laughter, doubly so when Fell Flight’s wings twitched, threatening to go erect!

It felt good to know we could find reasons to laugh, even facing our end as we were. But Osprey wasn’t done yet. “So, aside from not getting to bed Fell Flight, my only real regret is I cannot slay any more gryphons past this morning—no offense, Gavian,” she quickly told my son, who was sitting at my side and drinking from a bowl.

“None taken,” he answered dully, picking at some discarded gryphon rations that appeared to be some form of dried meat he’d shared with Fell Flight. “After all we did this day, methinks you have every right to hate us.” His shoulders slumped as he spoke.

The gathering fell silent at his words, and I could only put my hoof over his talons to hear them. “We don’t hate you, Gavian. Methinks you are the perfect example of what gryphons could be—honorable friends and warriors who are as skilled with a pen as a sword.”

“Thank you, Mother.” He bared his throat and then nuzzled me with his beak, to which I hugged his head. “In truth, I do have my own regret this night—that I never finished the picture of you, me, Grandmother and Grandfather,” he told me, referring to the one he’d sketched of us the night I’d officially adopted him in the presence of my parents, intending to wait for a second visit to do the actual painting. “I put the preliminary sketch in the chest and left instructions for its finishing. ‘Tis my hope some future artist will do what I could not,” he told me, and then looked away at that, tears visibly welling in his eyes again.

He took a single, shuddering breath before going on. “What I do not regret is all that happened to me in the past year. For as awful as it was at times, it led me here... to all of you! Let me know friendship and family for the first time, no matter how brief it was. Let me become the warrior I always dreamt. And for it? I love you all.” He sniffled. “And ‘twill be my greatest honor to die here with all of you.”

“Ars Longa, Vita Brevis.” Swift Strike recited in Aeric whilst putting a hoof on Gavian’s chest.

Gavian looked up and smiled at that. “Vivamus, Moriendum Est,” he rejoined in the same tongue.

“Omnes Una Manet Nox. Permitte Divis Cetera,” Fell Flight added, causing the other two to chuckle and nod whilst leaving the rest of us no idea what was being said.

“Nil Desperandum. Carpe Diem,” Stormrunner finished, but that phrase I knew by then. “And we did.”

Mugs and a single bowl were raised in toast at that. “Any final thoughts for you, Master Sergeant? Methinks in all the time you’ve been here, you’ve said precious little about your herd or home life.” I asked Stormunner.

Farewell to Arms

He smiled somewhat sadly at that, making me immediately wonder if asking the question had been a mistake. “’Tis because they are nonexistent, Commander. I am estranged from both. My mares divorced me before my foals were grown, claiming that by being in the Celestial Guard, I was ‘more married to Celestia than to them’.” He sighed and shook his head.

“Though they exaggerate, methinks ‘tis not without some truth. I became wedded to my career more than they and neglected them without truly realizing it until ‘twas too late. They ‘jumped clouds’, as it were, when they found another stallion who was willing to give them the time and attention I had not and then moved back to Cloudsdale, taking my son and daughters with them. If I have any regret, ‘tis that I did not spend more time with them. And methinks I failed at being a herd stallion so badly for it that I have not attempted to form another herd since.” He turned downcast.

Methinks I was definitely regretting the question at that point. “Well, I think you’re a fine stallion, Master Sergeant.” I favored him with a smile. “Under different circumstances and given a few more years, methinks I might have contemplated herding with you myself!” I told him with a smile, and to my surprise, I meant it—he was very much my equal, both in terms of rank and combat ability, being the only soldier this side of Swift Strike who could at least occasionally best me in aerial duels. “If nothing else, know that I am glad to have served with you. Just having you around made me a better warrior.”

“The feeling is mutual, Commander.” He gave me a grateful smile. “How about you, First Sergeant? Methinks you seem rather sanguine about all this,” he posed the question to Still Way next.

“Because death ‘tis not to be feared,” he answered, his horn glow weak as he levitated his drink. “’Tis simply a passage all must endure one day. What matters is not that we die. ‘Tis that we lived and bequeath a legacy, whether ‘tis in the losses we inflicted today or in the love and knowledge we leave behind. With regards to the latter, mine is in my foals and my magical arts, which I have already passed in full to Vielle and Harpsichord, my eldest son and daughter. So I die knowing it—and they—will survive this night.”

“Magical Arts? The ‘Still Way Technique’ is it to be, then?” Fell Flight asked slightly derisively, to which Still Way closed his eyes and smiled.

Fell Flight could only sigh and rub her slitted eyes with a hoof at that. “So be it. Though I may not always show it, methinks I admire your accomplishments immensely, First Sergeant, both here and throughout your life. ‘Tis certain we could not have held the cavern or pulled off the spoiling attack without you,” she admitted with a nod at the two downed gryphon mages, whose corpses had been dragged into a line with the rest and left for the gryphons to dispose of as they saw fit.

I’d heard they burned their dead, not unlike pegasi did, but their reasons for it were completely different—whilst we cremated our fallen so their ashes could be released to the winds that pegasi loved and wielded, they did so to prevent their corpses from being possessed and reanimated by an ancient enemy called the Cloven, who had nearly annihilated them many centuries past.

But such idle musings were lost as my second went on. “In truth, methinks I envy you, Still Way. For I leave no legacy behind but a bereft family and coltfriend who ‘tis certain shall never know my fate. Assuming they still live after the attacks on Cloudsdale and Baltimare, that is.” She became downcast.

“Tis not true, Master Sergeant,” he rejoined. “I know your story. You touched and saved many lives during your Corps Career. Ask the families you saved from the Indala raider group if they are glad for your actions. Ask your own family and coltfriend if they are glad for your existence,” he reminded her, to which she could only give him a grateful smile. “How about you, Blindside?”

“M-me?” she answered slightly shakily. Blindside was wounded badly from the multiple sword strikes she’d taken, and even with her senses restored would not be much good in our final fight. She’d placed her eyepatch with a note to her mother in the chest, causing me and many others to start to see her without it and her milky orb of a nonworking eye beneath. Nevertheless, she hobbled to my side and swore to fall with me along with Gavian, though she said very little this night, perchance still feeling the aftereffects of her wounds and the fear she felt.

Nevertheless, she answered here. “Well…” she gave me a furtive look that told me what she was thinking, but I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t say it out loud in front of everypony, not even facing death as we were. She’d already made her declaration of love to me and that was enough for her; she was not the kind of pony who needed it publicly known. “I regret not being able to join the Lances.”

“The Lances?” Everypony chorused in surprise except for me and Swift Strike, who smiled.

Blindside nodded somewhat jerkily. “They recruited me. I’d received my orders not two days ago and ‘twas going to start training in October at Coltonado,” she told us, to confirming nods from myself and Swift Strike.

“And I was going to start training you personally, even before that,” Swift Strike noted idly. “You can thank me for the offer, Sergeant. ‘Twas on my recommendation you were recruited.”

“Thank you, Sky Sergeant. But after this last battle… methinks I do not deserve it.” She shivered again, pulling her blanket tighter around her. She’d been wearing one ever since being patched up after the battle, though ‘twas unclear to me whether it was more for her wounds and blood loss than the lingering fear she felt from the storm. “I fell to pieces out there and nearly lost my platoon for it.”

“You were suddenly and unexpectedly stripped of your senses, Sergeant. ‘Tis a perfectly understandable reaction. And ‘tis something we would have certainly worked with you to address,” Swift Strike said sympathetically, putting a hoof on her leg. “In the time I was here, I evaluated you not just for your skill in battle, but your strength of spirit, and found it not at all wanting for the disability you overcame.”

“To say nothing of not tearing your sire limb from limb when you ran into him at the Summer Sun Celebration Military Ball,” I couldn’t help but add. “‘Tis unlikely I could have restrained myself in your place.”

“The ball?” everypony echoed again as Blindside’s eyes—both of them, as she was no longer wearing her eyepatch—narrowed in anger.

“Indeed. Your encounter there was observed by Silent Night. It detracted nothing from your attractiveness to the Lances in her eyes,” Swift Strike noted after a brief explanation of the events. “We look not just for promising young warriors, but disciplined ones who can keep their calm and their wits about them, especially in stressful situations. And methinks there are few things more stressful than running into your own estranged sire for the first time since he abandoned you at birth for your supposed disability.”

“Silent Night?” Osprey repeated, having recognized the name of my adoptive mother from her earlier visit to Epsilon following the ball. Everypony glanced back and forth to each other at that, reaching the same conclusion at once. “So your mother was…”

“A Lance. Yes,” I confirmed, wondering what she would be doing now in the advent of war. “If you wish to know why I returned from leave so battered some months back, ‘twas because she tested me and for all my speed and skill, still rather soundly beat me.” I rubbed my eyes with a hoof at the memory. She had taken me out into a meadow for some full-contact sparring following the pair of us seeing Wind Whistler off to basic, leaving us both needing to burn off some tension for it. I had thought to take it easy on her only to be very quickly disabused of the notion. “If I have any regrets now, ‘tis that I cannot see her again. Cannot partake in her cooking or test myself against her again.” I shook my head, wondering how much time we had left for such idle chit-chat, given the gryphons were almost certain to strike before dawn, now less than twenty minutes away.

But methinks every moment we had left then ‘twas a gift, and thus to be savored, milked for everything ‘twas worth. “And I wish I could see my mother again,” Blindside agreed. “Last she wrote, she was courting a new stallion and wanted me to meet him. I was planning to take a week’s leave to see her before starting at Coltanado, but now…” Tears ran down her cheeks.

I was still contemplating a response to that when a new figure approached our circle out of the darkness, one that caused all present to not only fall silent, but stand in deep respect.

Reluctant Warrior

“Sky Sentry,” I quickly greeted him. “Are you well?”

“No,” he said in a slightly shaky voice. “But methinks I do not wish to be alone any longer. Request permission to join you, Master Sergeant?” he asked politely, throwing me a quick salute.

“Of course,” I told him, returning the gesture and passing him a mug with our final drops of drink, offering a seat at my side. “By all means.”

“Thank you,” he acknowledged. “Methinks I am at least grateful I got to see you again one last time before our end.”

“And I am truly sorry for the circumstances, Sergeant. But that you survived them and made it all this way from Delta speaks greatly for you,” I offered, to which he gave a bitter laugh.

“Methinks you wouldst not say that if you knew the circumstances,” he replied. “Methinks my foal and his mother would be ashamed of me if they knew.” He sniffled again, nursing his few drops of drink.

“Your foal? You said you had a son, yes?” I reminded him, which was a given anyway—stallions couldn’t join the Armored Guard until and unless they’d sired a son. “If I may ask, what is his name?” Methinks I was trying to get him to focus on happier thoughts and memories.

He hesitated, but answered. “Apple Sprout,” he finally admitted, to the surprise of all. “He lives near Stalliongrad with his mother’s clan.”

“Apple Sprout?” I repeated the words, quickly reaching the only conclusion possible for such an un-pegasus name, one that methinks made much clear. “Then he and his mother are…?”

“Earth ponies,” he confirmed to the surprise of all, squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a moment. “’Tis why I could not stay with him—her mother’s clan would not have me. They promised to disown Applebee—his mother—if she herded with me, and though she was willing, I could not support them as the mere weather worker I was.

“So I thought that by joining the Guard, I could gain stature in their eyes. That perchance then they would accept me. Or failing that, I could use my new prestige to establish a herd elsewhere and then invite her to join me.” His hooves shook as he remembered.

He sighed before continuing. “‘Twas a foalish sentiment that should not have availed me, and by rights, I should have washed out of Guardspony basic for it within a week. But then... something happened. Something that changed everything.”

“What?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“You did, Master Sergeant.” He raised his haunted eyes to mine. “The very first day of training, you challenged me. Made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he told me with the ghost of a smile, causing me to flush at the memory of the half-jested promise I’d made to him, offering him the chance to… have me if he completed basic and graduated a Corporal. “In doing so, you gave me a reason to not just persevere, but excel. Methinks I wanted you—not just for a cheap fling, but, well... as a future herdmate and a second mother to my foal.” He slumped at the admission.

I stayed silent—for what could I say to that?—waiting for him to continue, allowing him to take another sip of his drink. “But then something else happened. As I went along, I realized I had an actual talent for the work. That much to my surprise, I was good at combat and enjoyed it. That I wanted to get stronger and swifter and better so that I might be your equal. So that then, you might wish to be with me in turn.”

His few drops of drink exhausted, we passed him some water instead, which he gulped at hard as he continued to relate his tale.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I know how little you must think of me now. But the truth is… basic training ‘twas but a game to me and the Guard itself but a means to an end. Despite the Sergeant Major’s admonitions, I never gave any thought to what we were actually training for! I never dreamt any of this could actually happen! And when it did…” He buried his face in his hoof and had to stifle sobs again. “I fought, Master Sergeant, I really did! I tried to defend the base! I even took over when the commander and her second were killed!

“But no matter what I did, ‘twasn’t enough! No matter how many I killed, they just kept coming! Mages and Knights behind the Talons that I couldn’t hold off!” His mug shook violently in his hoof whilst we listened silently, aghast.

It was several seconds before he could continue. “Knowing the base was lost, I tried to lead the survivors here by making a dash through the inner river gorge, keeping to the afternoon shadows. But they spotted us and none survived! All fell en route to Epsilon until only I was left!” he slammed his hooves down hard before he finally raised his haunted eyes to all of us and said his final statement. “Don’t you all understand? I’m a failure as a father and a soldier! I lost the outpost and led my troops to their deaths!” he pronounced as he broke down sobbing again.

“No, Sergeant,” Still Way spoke up before I could, once his cries has subsided. “You did not fail at either. In both instances, you were presented with an impossible situation and did what you could with it. You tried to provide for your mare and foal. You tried to defend your base and when the gryphon numbers proved too great, you tried to lead your remaining forces to safety.

“Far from leading them to their deaths, you offered your soldiers a fighting chance for life—the only realistic chance they had. Methinks you did everything you could and none here could have performed any better in your place. ‘Tis not your fault what happened. ‘Tis nopony’s fault but the gryphons,” the First Sergeant said solemnly. “And as for your reasons for joining the Guard being poor ones? Mayhap ‘twould interest you to know why I joined.”

“And why was that?” Fell Flight asked, even her voice subdued at that moment.

“To showcase my magical arts and, in my youthful naivety, try to convince the Guard to follow a more peaceful path.” He chuckled to himself. “In truth, I was a pacifist. And worse, I thought I could convince others to be from inside the military. I endured training even as I vowed to eventually reform it. I regret my first assignment did disabuse me of that notion rather quickly as I discovered that the Harpies were not impressed by my peaceful pretensions. Methinks all my mistaken beliefs died a horrible death when I was forced to kill a group of them to stop them from slaughtering a family.”

For one of the few times I had known him, there was genuine pain in the First Sergeant’s eyes. “’Twas quite a shock, as you might guess. ‘Twas only then I realized my entire worldview was false, and that to be peaceful did not mean unwilling to act. That pacifism only worked if all subscribed to it, else ‘twas certain to only be taken as weakness—which only invited more conflict, not less. That a desire for peace meant nothing unless backed by the will and ability to fight. That was when me and my arts finally began to mature, and my path became the correct one,” he told us all, then turned to me. “And what about you, ma’am?”

“I joined the Guard for personal glory,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “And like the First Sergeant, I was disabused of the notion rather rudely, first by my head trainer, Sergeant Major Windshear, and later by the gryphons.” I shivered at the memory of how badly I’d reacted to my first real engagement and kill; an attack in which I’d lost sixteen soldiers to a raider ruse. But not all the outcomes had been bad; Gavian had been captured in that attack, too small and malnourished to have slain anyone and duped into joining the raider group anyway. “Like Still Way, I learned the hard way the utter folly of my initial thinking. But I am grateful for it, for ‘tis what allowed me to become the warrior and leader I am now. So tell me, then… what about the rest of you? Why did you join the military?” I posed the question to them all.

“I joined the Corps to escape my overbearing mother, enlisting the moment I turned nineteen,” Osprey said succinctly. “And ‘tis certain I have never looked back.”

“I joined to be able to fight and follow in my mentor’s hoofsteps, who was a retired Corps soldier,” Fell Flight said next. “I needed outlets for my thestral hunting instincts, and the Corps was the obvious answer. Doubly so as I wished to honor the one who trained and taught me when nopony else would. What about you, Sergeant?” She turned to Blindside next.

“Me? I joined to prove I wasn’t a cripple,” she explained with her first grin all night. “Methinks serving Equestria was secondary, though ‘twould be a lie to say I did not wish to honor the same mentor as you. And you, Sky Sergeant?” she asked Swift Strike, who was the only one who hadn’t offered up their story.

He chuckled at that. “To become something other than the skinny and easily bullied weakling I was,” Swift Strike finished, then grinned at the looks everypony gave him. “I wasn’t always an assassin, you know.”

“Perchance not,” Still Way agreed, a ghost of a smile on his face as he looked to Sky Sentry once more. “But the point, Sergeant, is that we all had different paths in coming here, and even motives that might have been considered shallow or selfish,” he told his fellow stallion. “In truth, few of us were joining to serve princess and province. But you? Your motivation strikes me as the least selfish of all. You joined the Guard in an attempt to give your foal a better life and a herd that would accept both him and his mother. Speaking for myself, I find that quite noble. Perchance you were a bit naive, but ’tis certain no more than I was!”

“Or me,” I went downcast, wishing that I could go back in time to slap myself for my own ignorance and arrogance.

Sky Sentry considered that, then nodded. “Thank you, both,” he told us. “‘Tis appreciated. Still, methinks I escaped the destruction of one outpost only to die at another. And I wish very much that I’d been able to see Applebee and Apple Sprout again…”

Before any reply could be offered, a series of muffled sounds were heard outside the doors, announcing the return of the gryphons; scraping and clawing noises as they readied to storm the cavern—or perchance just bring it down on our heads to be done with us.

All conversation instantly stopped and eyes turned on me as I took flight and spoke into my blue gem for what I was certain would be the last time. “Soldiers of the Corps! ‘Tis time. Our end is nigh, and I have no more orders to give save these—fight hard and fight well! Make sure the gryphons will never forget this night... or the name of Outpost Epsilon!”

A final cheer went up from my doomed troops as we heard the booms of magus lightning, and dust began to fall from the ceiling from their impacts against the roof of the cavern—they clearly were indeed trying to cave it in on us, but even with diamond dog support ‘twas unlikely at best they could get the whole ceiling to collapse at once.

With that, the entire battalion came to attention and gave me their most crisp and rigid salutes; even the maintenance crew offered their respects with their best impressions of one.

“‘Tis been an honor to serve with you, Commander,” Fell Flight spoke for all of them, struggling to keep the catch from her voice.

“The honor was mine, Master Sergeant,” I told her, just as rigidly returning the salute as the cavern shook again. “See you in the Summerlands.”

If I may say, Captain, adding this section ‘twas an excellent suggestion. Methinks I must give my regards to the Ambassador and Marquess before I leave.

‘Tis now lunchtime, and the Captain is currently seeing her father along with her honored guests. As I await my turn, I believe I will pick up the quill myself again to pen a short section, one that will set the final battle scene.

Gryphon Territory
12 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0540 hours

“Word from the gryphon scrying networks, Captain—the final attack on Epsilon is going in.” Ensign Kusema reported from her station, a mug of steaming tea at her side. I’d ordered it from the galley for the entire bridge crew to try to keep us awake and alert this late into the night. “They say that the remnants of the Corps battalion have holed up inside their empty storm cloud vault.”

“I see. Steady as she goes, Mister Sora. And keep us in the clouds,” I directed. Perchance as a consequence of the storm, there was a low cloud bank left in the area; an unusually thick fog and mist that was masking our approach. We’d actually spotted a few gryphon patrols by then, but hidden in the clouds as we were and not looking for any intruders on the gryphon side of the border, they had failed to notice us. I then clicked another gem button on my console. “Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight!” I called to our Pegasus air wing commander. “Are your instructions for the battle clear?”

“Crystal clear, ma’am,” she replied promptly. “All my squadrons have been briefed on their roles and objectives. We’re ready to launch on your orders!”

“Good. Commander?” I turned to my second next, who had taken about forty minutes before returning after his confrontation with me, but appeared to be in a much better state of mind for it, calm and in control. “I need to command the group, and that means you need to command the ship. The Loyalty is yours, Mister Tailwind,” I announced, stepping away from the Captain’s chair.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He acknowledged with a salute. “I assume the watch. Mister Azimuth? What is our current distance to Epsilon?”

“Twelve miles, sir,” he replied after a short pause, measuring a distance on the chart. We were flying blind at that moment, the ground and immediate surroundings masked by leftover mists, so the Lieutenant was navigating by what mariners call dead reckoning, attempting to calculate our position via forward speed and heading from our last known location.

“Then order the group to begin descent and go to flank speed,” I directed Ensign Kusema. “And order their commanders to tune to my personal command crystals. I will be directing our forces from the forward deck,” I announced, heading towards the lower observation deck where I could observe the overall battle, a collection of communication crystals attached to my belt and several heavily armed naval guards, including the Mare-at-Arms herself, at my side.

“Aye-aye, ma’am. Mister Sora, begin descent towards Epsilon and go to flank speed! Fifteen degrees down angle on the planes.”

“Fifteen degrees down and go to flank speed, aye.” He moved a pair of levers forward and for a moment, my hooves felt lighter under my body as the ship began to drop. “Guess this is it…” I heard him mutter under his breath, the attention of all suddenly on the forward windows that still showed only fog. “By the Sun and Moon, we’re really doing this…”

“Orders acknowledged, ma’am. The Duty and Vigil report descent commencing,” Kusema relayed.

“Then battle is upon us,” I said as I stepped out onto the forward deck and donned a pair of borrowed flight goggles, the wind blasting in my face.

And may Luna be with us… I silently prayed as the sun peeked over the horizon behind us and we left the cover of the clouds, descending towards the just-visible ruins of Epsilon base, a fresh cohort of gryphons circling their final redoubt like vultures.

“But one night waits for all and the road of death is to be tread only once.” —Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace)

Author's Notes:

Well, folks... in the end, I elected to break up the chapter for two reasons: First, it was getting very long, and second, I felt like a respite was needed between major battle scenes and that it was just too much whiplash for the reader (and writer!) to jump from such a solemn scene right into battle. At 7k words, this was long enough and important enough to warrant its own chapter, I decided, and thus leave actual battle self-contained. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but the battle chapter is already well underway. So be patient; it’s coming! In the meantime, hope you enjoyed this look into the lives and minds of our heroes. And you *might* have noticed the mention of a certain individual you may recall from the first book; an old friend some readers wanted to hear more of. Be assured, her story will be told in due course!

Thanks as always go to Denim_Blue, Silentwoodfire, Leo Archon and AJ_Aficionado, who had their usual good time with the parent Google Doc. Work continues on the battle chapter, and updates will follow later. Thanks again for following!

Part 16 - Love and Loyalty

As evening falls and Father remains infirm, I find myself contemplative, though the topics that occupy my thoughts are anything but idle ones.

Indeed, ‘tis questions of life and death that hold my attention now; wondering again what should happen if Father should suddenly take a turn for the worse. ‘Tis certain we already discussed arrangements should he not survive—he wishes his primaries to be interred with Mother’s, to little surprise, whilst following his state funeral, his ashes are to be scattered to the winds at sunrise from the decks of the EAS Loyalty itself.

The latter is tradition for Royal Navy dead; an extension of the ages-old belief amongst pegasi that the rising sun leads the way to the Summerlands for fallen warriors. ‘Tis why pegasi funeral services are held at dawn to this day, and I note ‘tis a tradition that has, over time, been adopted by the other pony tribes as well.

‘Twas a tradition I never gave much thought to before I entered the military, nor did I ever truly consider the question of what happened after death as a foal or filly, believing myself invincible and immune to dying as befits all the ignorance and arrogance of youth. ‘Twas only when I was exposed to death in my first combat actions that I truly understood how fragile and fleeting life was, and 'twas only then did I begin to contemplate the age-old questions of mortality.

Every race of this world, it seems, has its own beliefs regarding the afterlife. The gryphons have the warrior haven of Valhalla whilst the ponies have the peaceful paradise of the Summerlands; the thestrals speak of an eternally warm and starry moonlit night whilst the hippogryphs return their spirits to ‘The Eternal Sea’. And mine?

Mine were shaped by the events of this second morn of war—by an event I have never told anypony else about before now.

Waiting Game

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0538 hours

‘Twas five hours after the battle beneath the superstorm and but five minutes before dawn when we heard the noises outside the cavern; ones that announced the return of the gryphons and their intent to finish off our stubborn resistance once and for all.

This time, there was nothing we could do to stop them. Given their numbers and Magi, we had but minutes left to live once they breached the vault, and thus ‘twas with both pride and sorrow as I took flight and looked out over my assembled soldiers for the final time.

“Soldiers of the Corps! ‘Tis time. Our end is nigh, and I have no more orders to give save these—fight hard and fight well! Make sure the gryphons will never forget this night... or the name of Outpost Epsilon!”

A final cheer went up from my doomed troops as we heard the booms of magus lightning, and dust began to fall from the ceiling from their impacts against the roof of the cavern—they clearly were indeed trying to cave it in on us, I thought. But even with diamond dog support, ‘twas unlikely at best they could get the whole ceiling to collapse at once.

With that, the entire battalion came to attention and gave me their most crisp and rigid salutes; even the maintenance crew offered their respects with their best impressions of one.

“‘Tis been an honor to serve with you, Commander,” Fell Flight spoke for all of them, struggling to keep the catch from her voice.

“The honor was mine, Master Sergeant,” I told her, just as rigidly returning the salute as the cavern shook again. “See you in the Summerlands.” With that, the salutes were dropped as my soldiers scattered themselves throughout the cavern in preparation for one final fight, this one to the death.

As my remaining command staff rushed to their respective platoons—Fell Flight taking over 3rd platoon after Snow Squall’s death and Flight Sergeant Starling being wounded—the soldiers of my battered battalion took formations spaced well apart, eschewing concentration lest the wrong portion of the ceiling cave in and take us all out at once. Even with their numbers evened out after some hasty reorganization, my four platoons could now only muster around thirty troops each, even augmented by a few scratch soldiers borrowed from the storm teams.

Adrenaline surged through me as the booms of magus lightning intensified and the cavern began to quake. Lacking a spare set of wingblades that fit him, Sky Sentry grabbed a discarded Talon scimitar in his muzzle whilst Blindside did the same with a rough-hewn Diamond Dog weapon that was half-blade and half-club, her inflamed wounds preventing her from effectively flying or wielding wingblades. Gavian drew his own sword and held it at the ready facing the vault doors whilst the remaining healers stepped up, longbows leveled to cover the entrance from multiple angles.

But it became quickly apparent the Imperials were attempting to break in through multiple points as cracks began appearing in the ceiling from repeated lightning hits on the cavern roof, and we sensed movement under the floor as the dogs tried to break in yet again. Worse, we had to retreat from the metal vault doors as they began glowing and smoking from the middle edges in, Magus Knight fire attempting to both melt them and drive back any defenders.

“Hold fast!” I ordered our ground forces; three longbow-armed unicorn healers and six axe-wielding earth ponies together with myself, Gavian, Swift Strike, Blindside, and an injured but barely-mobile Spear Sergeant Steelheart, planting myself in their midst on the ground thirty yards away from the doors, feeling the radiant heat intensifying.

“Release volley on my order only!” I directed. Methinks I wasn’t actually too familiar with crossbow and longbow tactics other than what I’d observed of the healer teams practicing, but methinks I’d also seen enough of how the gryphons did it to get an idea of how best to use them. I thought that if Swift Strike and I attacked hard on the heels of a volley whilst the gryphons were maneuvering to dodge, then we could rush in and at least take out the first decade or so of enemy soldiers between us.

In any event, it did not seem likely we would have long to wait as the doors weakened and warped, but then abruptly… the noises stopped and an eerie silence descended on the cavern for the better part of a minute.

Methinks I was anything but reassured by that. “Mother? Wh-what’s happening?” Gavian asked, looking around nervously.

“I don’t know...” I admitted, a sudden sense of dread creeping over me as I glanced over at Swift Strike. “Are they not coming in?”

He didn’t answer right away, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as he considered the situation. Then abruptly, his eyes went wide. “Get back!” he shouted at us in rare panic, grabbing and all but flinging Gavian away from the door. “They’re going to—”

Breach

A deafening series of explosions from all sides cut him off before he could finish as the walls, floors, ceiling, and doors all seemed to simultaneously implode from multiple points; the latter blasting inward and showering us with spall. A hastily erected unicorn shield blocked most of it, but some hit my face and chest, the former burning my cheek badly and forcing me to discard my helmet before the molten matter that hit it could cook my head beneath, and the latter making me likewise want to tear off my breastplate, which was searing my body with unbearable heat.

But there was no time as the first wave of armored gryphons burst in from all points, rage and bloodlust in their eyes. Their lead forces wielded not one but two crossbows, firing one explosive bolt from them and then another. And behind them were nearly a score of grey-dyed figures wielding twin scimitars who took advantage of the chaos to strike my stunned soldiers down with terrifying speed and sword skill, accounting for a dozen ponies in mere seconds.

In a rarity for the gryphons, there was no declaration of attack; no offer of honor this time. For the losses we had inflicted and the tactics we had used, ‘twas certain they wanted us dead, and as violently as possible.

“Ravens!” the call went up as Swift Strike launched himself at the nearest group of them charging in hard on the wingbeats of the Knights. But they were well-briefed on what they’d be facing and immediately singled him out, a team of seven coming through the breached vault doors on the heels of another Knight decade who disrupted our planned volley with their own, firing explosive bolts into our midst, their blows taking down the half-strength unicorn shields with alarming ease and leaving us defenseless. The Ravens followed up with tossed gems I was just able to recognize and blow aside with a gust of wind from my wings, else they might have taken the lot of us out at once.

“Return fire!” I called out to our surviving forces over the cries of pain behind me, trying to block out the searing agony against my chest fur of my slowly cooling armor. Staggered, they obeyed as best they could as two longbow arrows, three axes and two crossbow bolts lashed out in retaliation, but only one found its mark as the Ravens dodged easily and Knight armor deflected it. Our last-ditch plan ruined, there was little for it but to join my Black Lance friend in battle and hope we could buy some time for our ground forces to ready another volley.

But for as well as things had gone the previous day, ‘twould seem our luck was exhausted, or perchance the gryphons had planned too well. This time, they had brought in Ravens to set crystal charges so they could hit us from all sides at once; this time, they were storming the cavern from no less than six different entry points in every direction, leaving us unable to cover or defend any one area. In hindsight, the initial lightning strikes we heard were not designed to gain entry or collapse the roof; they were simply meant to dig out holes in which the Ravens could place their charges, which they could then detonate all at once.

Whoever planned it, it worked brilliantly as we were completely overwhelmed; the shock of their initial assault costing us thirty soldiers almost immediately before we could recover our senses.

Methinks you may blame or credit Centurion Tempest Umbra, the ranking Raven in the area, Captain, as he relieved Legate Galea and took over the planning and overall command of the attack under circumstances I will describe in a future chapter. But suffice it to say for now, Prelate Gaius was most displeased with the legion leadership for their conduct of the Epsilon attacks.

Of that, I have no doubt, Ambassador. Methinks I, too, would have been livid given the circumstances and such egregious errors in judgment. But whatever the shortcomings of their earlier efforts, the 16th Talon Legion made up for them here.

And before I forget, thank you very much for coming to visit my father, Ambassador. Your presence and that of Marquess Ampok was appreciated, as was the efforts you went through to help arrange gryphon assistance for my father’s operation.

To the Death

Barely thirty seconds had elapsed since the initial entry, and yet already, I was down nearly three dozen soldiers. At that rate, we had but two minutes left before they wiped us out, and worse, fresh sky gryphon soldiers were still surging in until their forces in the cavern outnumbered ours nearly three to one.

‘Twould not have availed them if we were rested and fighting Talons, but against elite Knights and deadly Ravens following a full day of continuous alerts and combat on little rest, we were taking worse than we got. My soldiers were half a wingbeat slow, their wits and reaction times sluggish, and it cost them facing such skilled enemies as the sky gryphon Wind Knights and elite assassins we were facing.

But fight we did, knowing there was no quarter here; we would, as the song we had sung earlier that night said, keep them stalled until the last pony fell.

And one gryphon. To my surprise and consternation, instead of staying behind, Gavian joined me and Swift Strike against the seven-strong Raven team we were facing, charging in right behind me. Methinks I was unaware he was there until he blocked a Raven blade aimed at my head, going back to back with me in the air.

“Gavian!” I shouted at him, motherly instincts still asserting themselves even though I knew full well they would spare him no more than us, and perchance even less. “Get back!”

“No, Mother!” he shouted back. “I swore to fall with you! And I will!” he proclaimed as he attracted the attention of no less than two of the grey-dyed warriors, who were giving me and Swift Strike all we could deal with and more.

‘Tis worth noting that I had in fact fought Ravens once before, slaying three in their attempt on Gavian’s life back in January. But then, they’d broken into my stateroom blind and Swift Strike had been able to wound two almost immediately, holding their attention long enough for me to escape my own opponent and strike them down. In fact, the one unwounded Raven I’d fought could probably have beaten me given a bit more time; even with all my training and all my Guardspony strength and speed, I’d only barely been able to block her blows.

The action having revealed a weakness in my combat abilities, I’d immediately started intensive close-quarters blade combat training with Swift Strike afterwards. Under his tutelage, I was far better at it now, even if I still couldn’t beat him one-on-one, but this Raven team was well-chosen and trained for their task as ‘twas all I could do to hold them off and stay in the air.

Three took on the Sky Sergeant whilst two attacked me, leaving me once again only barely holding my own against such superb skill. Any more would have slain me, and methinks ‘tis likely I would already be dead had it not been for Gavian fearlessly engaging the remaining two at once, whirling and spinning his blade with incredible speed. The Ravens seemed amused, then surprised by his agility and ability to parry their strikes, doubly so when he scored a hit on one, penetrating his leather armor and leaving a bloody line on his chest!

Whilst her comrade clutched at his wound and staggered back, the unwounded Raven eagless he was also fighting shouted something at him in Aeric, to which Gavian shouted back in the same tongue before engaging her again.

Well-spoken indeed, my son. And very well-fought for you to survive them unscathed!

Whilst we engaged the Ravens, the dozen or so Knights that formed the vanguard simply stormed around our flanks to hit our grounded forces. They met stiff resistance from Sky Sentry and the two remaining Celestial Guardsponies, even drained and injured though they were; I caught a glimpse of Still Way fighting not with his depleted aura but with two of the light blades unicorns favored for being easily levitated and whirled about, whilst Steelheart still had his crossbow and surprised one Wind Knight by leaping up to catch him and slamming him hard to the ground.

Further away, my platoons were being steadily ground down, fighting in isolated enclaves, Fell Flight’s and Osprey’s battling with their backs to the cavern wall. Others were trapped in the middle of the cavern, exposed and under assault from all sides, being reduced within a shrinking perimeter by the Ravens and their Wind Knight allies.

This begged the question of why only sky gryphons were participating in the attack, but my answer was received quickly as a fresh century of earth gryphon soldiers marched in through the broken vault doors in phalanx formations, spears and shields wielded, Knights in front and Talons behind. Worse, two more Magus Knights accompanied them, and, at the shouted orders of their leader, the Ravens broke contact having only lost two of their number, both wounded and not dead, their team having successfully pinned their most dangerous adversaries—me and Swift Strike—in place and prevented us from aiding our forces.

Methinks I didn’t realize what was happening but fortunately, Swift Strike did. “Scatter!” he called out in panic before taking evasive action, but confused, perchance due to physical or mental fatigue or perchance being dazed by the explosive gem that detonated in their wake, methinks I was half a second slow in recognizing the threat, only catching on when the end of a mage’s staff crackled with electricity, shortly before it was pointed directly at me.

The male gryphon mage had me in his sights with his spell already being cast; I had no chance to dodge. ‘Tis certain all I could do was steel myself and attempt a deflection of a full-strength magus bolt—something I’d never been able to do with the equally strong ones fired from our storm clouds.

Methinks I almost succeeded. There was a blinding flash and ear-ringing boom at the electrical impact that blasted through my hurriedly raised guard, knocking me out of the air and sending me plummeting twenty feet to the ground, my ears ringing and body numb. I hit the cavern floor hard and bounced once before settling to a stop, the passage of my body carving a short furrow in the ground.

“Mother!” I dimly heard Gavian’s voice call out and had some sense of him standing over me, reared up with his sword wielded to defend me. My lightning affinity had saved my life, but the bolt had still done its damage, even aside from my singed and smoking fur. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. It was all I could do to simply breathe, barely noting the taste of blood on my lips as I let out a labored cough. And my gaze was locked forward, leaving me looking out the gaping opening the destroyed vault doors had left behind, staring directly into the first rays of the rising sun… and somehow, thinking how beautiful it was compared to the carnage around me.

Odd things go through your mind at times like that, and in truth, ‘tis difficult to describe how I felt at that moment. Sorrow at the loss of my battalion and our impending defeat. Regret at having been taken out so easily and having not been able to slay even one additional adversary in our final fight. Chagrin that ‘twas now Gavian who was protecting me instead of me protecting him.

And to what is now my great shame… relief that ‘twould soon all be over.

As I realized I was helpless and my life flashed before my eyes, I reflected that I had done my duty. Indeed, I had done all I could. The gryphon losses we had inflicted were grievous and we had held up their advance for an entire day. We had done all honor required for Princess and Province, and ‘twas then, as I remembered the old pegasus belief that the rising sun led the way to the Summerlands for fallen warriors, that I awaited death and those first rays of light that washed over me to take me to that mythical realm.

At that moment, methinks I embraced death. Neigh, I welcomed it as I dimly heard the sounds of battle around me and saw the Ravens closing in again; heard a few mingled pony and gryphon screams while both Gavian and Blindside fought to defend me. “Mother!” a tearful Gavian pleaded as he fought. “Get up!”

And then, I lost sight of everything except the rising sun.

I must take a moment to pause and gather myself before I continue. I said earlier after previous revelations that ‘twas my turn to reveal something I’d kept secret for all these years. Something I still have trouble talking about to this day. ‘Twas an experience that would touch and shape me not just this night, but throughout the war going forward.

An experience that told me that there was something beyond the grave, and the stories of the Summerlands were not just idle ones.

At The Edge

Many are the tales of near-death experiences I have heard over the years, most from soldiers but some not.

Odd things happen when we get close to death, as mayhap the barriers between life and death weaken in these moments. Some say your life flashes before your eyes, and you see a great tunnel of light; a stairway to the Summerlands—or whatever your race’s version is of it—that beckons you forward, inviting you to join that light.

Such it was for me as I took the sun itself as that stairwell and found myself mentally reaching towards it… only to find my way suddenly blocked and myself somehow back in basic training again, crawling through the mud in an attempt to overcome an insurmountable obstacle. I was screamed at quite loudly as well, though at first I couldn’t make out the words.

Methinks I certainly knew who the source was, though! For who else would be shouting at me in that setting and at that moment but my trainer and mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear, standing over me like I was faltering back on the obstacle course in basic again!

“Get up, recruit!” he yelled at me, standing over me even as I lay unmoving on that cavern floor. “I didn’t spend six months training you for you to fall so easily, and on the very first day of war! Now pull your sorry flank together!” he ordered imperiously, causing me to automatically try to obey, my muscles only sluggishly starting to respond.

“S-Sergeant Major…?” I might have said the words out loud or just in the vision; methinks I’m not sure to this day which it was as I tried and failed to raise my head. “I can’t rise… we can’t win…” I protested silently as I heard and saw the battle around me as if through a tunnel, everything moving and sounding unnaturally distant and slow.

“Can’t win?” He repeated derisively. “You are a soldier of Equestria, recruit! The finest warrior I have ever trained! You’re not done yet! And neither is your force! Now show the determination you did in basic! Show that you won’t give up! Do you hear me, recruit? Stand and fight!” he ordered me again, somehow acting and speaking as if he was there at Epsilon instead of in the basic training workout I found myself in.

With that, he reached down to yank me to my hooves, and incredibly, I felt reinvigorated at that moment, fresh energy surging through me, mobilizing my muscles again as he spoke his final words. “For if you give up here, so close to victory? Then methinks you really are no better than a castle maid!” he repeated one of his favorite insults towards me, one that ‘twas always guaranteed to get a rise out of me during the first weeks of training.

Such it was here as I felt a white-hot anger take hold of me and my teeth clench as I swore I’d prove him wrong yet again. I knew not what he meant by ‘victory’, but it mattered not as adrenaline surged through me. With fresh power and determination somehow imparted to me by the Sergeant Major himself, I forced myself to rise; to fight, still looking into the rising sun…

Which was suddenly blotted out by a large shape moving overhead, taking position outside the cavern entrance.

Such was my first near-death experience, and ‘tis one that still haunts me to this day.

I did not know the Sergeant Major was dead at that point, of course, but once I learned he had fallen heroically many hours before in the raid on Fort Spur, my memories of the event took on new meaning. Was that truly him? Had he reached out to me from the Summerlands itself to save me? To pull me back to my hooves when I felt at my lowest point and ready to give in; ready to die right then and there?

I know not the answer to this day, only what I still sense in my heart—that the vision I saw ‘twas no mere hallucination; that Windshear himself was with me in that moment, kicking my flank ‘into gear’ as Naval Engineers say, one final time.

A touching story, Captain. One that I, too, would like to believe was real and that our fallen comrades yet wait for us to join them following a well-lived life.

Before I continue the tale, I would like to offer my sincerest apologies that it took so long for the battle group to get to Epsilon; that I chose to delay our arrival to allow their final attack to be launched first.

To this day, there are times I still wonder if we could have safely gotten there sooner as Tailwind wished and saved more of the battalion, but I keep coming back to the same reasoning I had then—that to attempt to do so would have made success less likely, not more, if we arrived before daybreak and revealed ourselves before the attack was launched.

In any event, I must return to Stalliongrad soon, but I did wish to see Admiral Tailwind one last time with him a bit more lucid. ‘Tis hard to see him so weak and ill, but true to form, he remains endlessly upbeat and determined to persevere, just as he always was. He tells me he wishes to contribute to this battle tale himself, and believes he will be able to do so given another day.

Ship of the Line

Gryphon Territory
EAS Loyalty
2 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0542 hours

Over twelve hours after departure from Stalliongrad, we were finally closing on our objective. And for it, methinks the final five minutes of our approach to Epsilon were the most harrowing of our collective lives.

In truth, despite the calm airs I was projecting, my insides churned. Methinks I was amazed we’d made it that far without being detected, but as we dropped out of the clouds to likely reveal ourselves on our descent towards the outpost, I found myself praying that they wouldn’t look this way for just a bit longer.

Then again, with the sun at our backs and some fog still in the air, they would have to be looking for us to see us. And it quickly became apparent that they were not.

For why would they be looking for Equestrian airships approaching from the gryphon side of the border out of the rising sun?

As we descended and closed the final few miles at flank speed, myself and my security entourage tethered to the forward observation deck to anchor ourselves against the hurricane gale we experienced at such a pace, we saw that all their forces were now concentrated around the cavern; they were using an entire millennium of soldiers to try to root them out, with block formations on the ceiling and ground outside waiting to enter along with several centuries of circling airborne troops. Methinks it seemed a grotesque amount of overkill for trying to take out a two-hundred strong unit, but after the losses they had suffered, ‘twas clear they were not playing games any longer.

Unfortunately for them, in making themselves static, their ground forces had also left themselves easy prey to our cannons and magical ballistae. Even as oft-poorly as our gunners had performed in all the drills we’d had on the way over, they could hardly miss such stationary targets as we got within range, and for the first time, I saw a few gryphon heads turn towards us both in the air and on the ground, some puzzled and some alarmed. A few talons were shortly pointed our way, which caused even more heads to turn.

We stood revealed at that moment, but for the gryphons, ‘twas already too late. We had them in our sights, and as we closed within one mile, I gave my first orders of the battle, shouting commands in to my communication crystals.

“Loyalty! Come to full stop! Loyalty gunners! Target the ground formations with our magical ballistae and follow up with conventional cannon fire against the skylights! Duty and Vigil! Scatter their airborne soldiers and begin orbiting the redoubt! Keep their forces at bay and off the Loyalty!” I commanded, waiting for acknowledgements to come back and the guns to open up, which they did with a thunderous roar to surprisingly good effect.

‘Twas the first time I’d seen our magical ballistae unleashed in a full volley; each gun launching glowing violet balls of pure magical force trailing sparks which hit and erupted with devastating concussive effect, leaving entire ground formations pulverized beneath the Loyalty’s barrage. The follow-up volleys by the conventional cannons on the lower decks were little more than an afterthought as, the surface targets destroyed, they shortly cleared the skylights the gryphons had been using to force entry into the cavern, clearing the way for our forces.

‘Twas a spectacular—to say nothing of very destructive—display, and methinks ‘twas one that made my heart swell with pride to finally see the full wartime potential of my beloved ship—to say nothing of the Royal Navy itself!—unleashed. In fairness, the Duty and the Vigil had less success, with fewer guns and lacking magical ballistae and targeting airborne forces as they were, but their percussion fire still got a few lucky shots in and succeeded in driving back the mostly-Talon formations, who all but recoiled from the unexpected bombardment, several dozen of their members falling dead or maimed from the sky from the cannonballs that burst amongst them.

We had the initial advantage, and ‘twas time to make the most of it; we had what I estimated at most to be five minutes before the gryphons reorganized themselves to face the new threat and retaliated—we needed to get the Epsilon battalion aboard in that time! And to that end…

“All squadrons! Launch! 1st and 4th groups, defend the Loyalty! 2nd and 3rd groups, go in through the cavern ceiling! Clear the space and make contact with the Corps troops!” I called out next to reinforce my earlier instructions—this had been planned, of course, but it still never hurt to reiterate orders—and was rewarded by over a hundred dark-uniformed shapes shooting out the Loyalty's belly hatches, half taking station around the ship and the other half streaming towards the cavern in passable formations.

“Aye-aye, ma’am! Air wing engaging! 2nd and 3rd groups going in!” Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight acknowledged, leading the cavern assault personally. On her heels, six of our twelve available ten-pony squadrons took position outside the ship while the other half charged into the cavern through the skylights the gryphons had blasted in the ceiling, now cleared of enemy soldiers by our guns. ‘Twas clear they’d used those freshly-made holes to surprise the Corps troops within, and in a rather ironic turn, we would now be using the same holes they’d made to surprise them!

Methinks I marvel at your ability to command the battle and juggle the many disparate elements of your battle group at once, Commodore, from the movements of your air wing to calling out targets for your gunners all the while maneuvering your ships to maximum effect. For all my wartime experience, naval tactics continue to be the one thing I lack sufficient knowledge of, and ‘twas quite an education you gave, both to us and the gryphons!

In the end, all I can say is… well done. And thank you.

Arrival

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0544 hours

Methinks that at first, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing was real, or just some lightning-caused hallucination or dream that preceded my own death; a forlorn hope of rescue my dying consciousness was trying to somehow will into reality.

I barely had time to register the presence of the large airborne shadow outside before a thunderous barrage of fire, consisting of both physical and magical projectiles, erupted from its flank and belly, hitting outside targets and seemingly concentrating on the entry points the gryphons had used to blast their way in. The bombardment caused sudden consternation from the gryphons around us, who looked around in bewilderment no less than us.

What…? I remembered thinking, struggling to focus on the strangely familiar shape before me.

As it got larger and more of the sun was blocked out, a thrumming sound from its rear-facing propellers becoming prominent, my eyes refocused and the shadow impossibly resolved into the silhouette... of what looked like a Royal Navy Airship!

I barely had time to register that unlikely fact before a series of new figures surged into the cavern through the ceiling skylights, dozens of dark-dressed pegasi clad in what I eventually recognized as rarely-seen Naval Pegasus combat uniforms fanning out to engage the gryphons, who were caught completely off guard and not looking up.

Remarkably, they were armed with not just wingblades, but crossbows, as I saw a score of gryphons fall to them, several Knights charging the new arrivals only to have a squad-sized volley loosed in their collective faces; a mixture of armor-piercing and explosive bolts either killing them outright or knocking them to the ground, leaving them easy prey for wingblades.

The mages stationed at the front doors turned and raised their shields, trying to bring down the behemoth before them with lightning spells, but they took the full brunt of a magical volley that slew them quickly, smashing through their shields like stones thrown through a window, and with that, the Ravens and Knights immediately fled the gaping opening that now left them vulnerable, making for the holes on the floor and far sides of the cavern.

The gryphon defenses split, my beleaguered forces launched an immediate counterattack, catching the Knights between us and the reinforcing naval soldiers as the latter's leader spotted me and dove for me, skidding to a halt before me.

“Master Sergeant Firefly!” she shouted, saluting me hard even though she bore a clear officer rank above her bloodied wingblades. “I am Lieutenant Commander Phantom Flight of the EAS Loyalty! We’re your relief and your rescue, ma’am!” She announced, and without any further preamble, she passed me one of the dark blue communications gems the Navy favored.

“The Loyalty?” I blinked, finally able to place the familiar shape, its name emblazoned on its side as its cannons continued to roar and spit both magical and more conventional fire. “F-father?” I called into the gem, scarcely able to believe what was happening, and a look around showed my remaining forces—Blindside, Gavian, Sky Sentry and even Swift Strike—all likewise looking outside and gaping at the incredibly unlikely sight of the airship hovering before us. “Father?”

“Greetings, Commander Firefly,” A response came quickly, not from father but from an all-business female voice speaking in clipped tones. “Your father is here, but cannot converse right now. I am Captain Shady of the Loyalty, acting commander of Royal Navy Battle Group Four! We have but mere minutes before the gryphons shake off their shock and counterattack! ‘Tis unlikely that we can resist a determined effort, so we need to evacuate your battalion now, Master Sergeant!”

“Evacuate...?” Methinks I was having much trouble getting my head back into the game at that point, still feeling the effects of the lightning bolt and the hallucination—or was it?—of the Sergeant Major that I was. The implications of it chilled me, and still does to this day. “Right. We have many wounded, Captain, and non-pegasi among us! Short of carrying them all on our backs, we have not the means to get them to your ship!”

“No need, Commander. We are already dispatching our lifeboats for the purpose,” she promised me, and with that, there was a pause I could only assume meant she was giving another order—a thought that ‘twould seem to be confirmed as several of the Loyalty’s small transport dirigibles detached from the upper decks and began their descent towards the cavern. “But they are vulnerable in flight and we are still heavily outnumbered! Load them up quickly, and I will order our air wing to defend them! But any soldiers you can still spare for the purpose would be welcome as well!”

“Understood,” I acknowledged as I finally felt the power of flight return to my wings. “Oh! And Captain? Advise your forces that there will be one friendly gryphon among us! He is dressed in blue-painted Talon armor and is not to be harmed!”

“We are aware of your son, Commander,” Shady said after another short pause and what I guessed were another set of orders shouted into a second communication crystal. “I have passed that information along to our pilots and air wing to expect him! Now load up!” Another cannon volley punctuated her statement as the Loyalty’s guns turned on the airborne gryphons, which were already starting to reorganize and probe their defenses.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” I answered as if I was Navy as well. The rank equivalents and chain of command were somewhat nebulous between the Corps and Navy, but as battle group commander, she was most certainly a superior officer. With that, I turned to the remnants of my garrison and spoke into my blue gem. “Alright, wounded and healers go into the first lifeboats! Earth ponies onto the next! Everypony who is able, fly interference with the Naval troops! ‘Tis certain the gryphons won’t let us just fly away after all this, so we need to cover our retreat!” I told them all.

Hearing no immediate acknowledgment, I turned to see the remains of my battalion. Methinks they were every bit as dazed and disbelieving at the unlikely turn of events as I was, perchance uncertain that our rescue ‘twas really happening. “Move!” I shouted into my blue gem again as the first lifeboat alit just outside the ruins of the vault doors, and the Airedale beckoned us forth, a detachment of additional longbow-wielding naval unicorns providing it a modicum of defense.

With that, exhausted, battered and bleeding though they all were, my remaining forces rousted themselves for action one final time. Fell Flight did not wait for further instructions before beginning to bark out orders, using our eighty or so remaining effectives plus some of the naval troops to form a defensive ring around the vault entrance. The gryphons were dead or had fled out the holes they entered, but ‘twas certain they would soon return. “Gavian, I’m staying here until everypony is out. You go on the second lifeboat as well!” I instructed him as an aside.

“No, Mother!” he said vehemently. “I will not leave your side! I will not leave this place until you do!”

“I’m not going either!” Sky Sentry said, holding a bloodied gryphon blade in his mouth. “This time, I won’t leave anypony behind! Everypony gets out! Even you, Master Sergeant!” he declared as our remaining two healers began levitating wounded onto the lifeboat, assisted by the unicorns there. Others were put on backs and carried there at Stormrunner’s direction, who I noticed had a broken-off spear still lodged in his side where it had penetrated his flank armor, blood from the wound dripping off his left foreleg.

“Master Sergeant? Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” he said in clipped tones as he directed his platoon, reduced now to barely a single squad, to the effort. His force had suffered the worst of all between the storm and the latest battle, but judging by the dead Knights around the area he had come from, he had acquitted himself well yet again. “I can still fly and fight!”

I had no time to answer before there was a fresh explosion, this time from the ground below fifty yards away and off to one side of the cavern. The floor somehow both caved in and blew up as the Dogs gained access with Raven help, and an entire century of Ravens and Fortis Knights burst out, visibly enraged that we were threatening to slip their trap. And at their forefront, charging in with battered armor and a massive axe...

Stormrunner spotted him before I did, and his features contorted in a snarl I’d never seen on his face before. “Centurion Nael!” he shouted, his wound and our evacuation abruptly forgotten as he marched forth to face him, wings flared in anger and murder in his eyes.

“For the honor of Equestria and Celestia herself, I challenge you to single combat! Face me as you promised, so that I may end your life now!”

To this day, methinks I do not know if he was more brave or foalish to make that challenge, considering the outcome. But ‘tis a story I will leave for him to tell. The last word in this chapter I will leave to Commodore Shady, who has elected to stay an additional night before returning to her stateroom on the Loyalty.

Thank you for indulging me yet again, Captain. ‘Twas indeed my intention to leave before nightfall, but I find I simply cannot depart yet whilst the Admiral is not out of danger. ‘Twas he who gave me my start in the Navy, which turned out to be the only job I ever held and was good at. And for it, methinks I owe it to him to remain here, offering what company and comfort I can.

Boarding Attempt

Pony/Gryphon Border
EAS Loyalty
Over storm cloud vault entrance
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0545 hours

“Ma’am? We’ve got trouble!” The commander of the Duty, Lieutenant Commander Sterling Silver, called to me. She was normally the first officer of the old escort, but Commander Bowline had been on leave in Fillydelphia when the news of the invasion came in. “Fresh Gryphon cohort approaching from the south!”

I turned to where she indicated and frowned, sighting the large formation of Talons winging in and trying to climb high to get clear of our guns, clearly intending to dive on what they likely assumed were our most vulnerable points—the dirigible balloons that held us aloft.

“I see them,” I acknowledged, then switched crystals, smiling thinly—they didn’t know how our ships worked or what their defenses were, and if we played our cards right, ‘twould be their undoing. “Commander Tailwind, they’ll be going for our ballonettes. I believe you know what to do?”

“'Twould be my greatest pleasure, ma’am!” he replied, and satisfied, I then issued new orders as I turned my attention back to the ground below, where the first loaded lifeboat was taking off.

“All ships! Gryphon counterattack imminent! Cohort inbound from the south! Take defensive posture and prepare to repel boarders!”

“There is only one kind of failure I cannot tolerate: the failure to risk failure.” —Richard Marcinko

Author's Notes:

Hey, folks! Sorry this has taken so long but work has not let up and I’ve been distracted by various matters. Sorry to not finish this here, but I decided I’d made folks wait for long enough. You’ve been patient, so here you are. Obviously, plenty of action ahead for the final chapter of the Epsilon battle, and you’ll see some of our newest friends in action for the first time. I hope you enjoyed the close-quarters combat and Firefly’s near-death experience here, and as you can see, our gryphon friends were NOT fucking around after what happened earlier. They’re royally pissed and had a very good plan this time.

Thanks go to AJ_Aficionado, SIlentwoodfire and Denim_Blue for the quick turnaround on the chapter. I took this from 1200 words to 7200 in the space of a day, pretty much, and they were kind enough to review it quickly for me. No graphics this time, only because there isn’t that much maneuver to show and I didn’t want to delay. Enjoy!

Part 17 - Escape from Epsilon

Dear readers—

Three days into his recovery, father remains deathly weak and ill. He can barely eat, let alone move, and his voice, once so commanding, is now feeble and raspy. And yet, for all that, he remains determined to not only survive, but contribute to this tale once more—a far cry, methinks, from how reluctant he originally was to pen his own entries in this tome; ‘tis certain I had to prod him repeatedly to describe the Loyalty’s departure from Stalliongrad some chapters back!

‘Tis an odd thing that this recounting of the conflict has become his primary motivation to see his recovery through rather than getting to fly again. But as we found out during the war, the desire to fight on can come from some very surprising places. And as badly as I want him to get better, ‘tis certain I will not question it!

Father will indeed be contributing to this tale again, both in this chapter and as oft as he wishes going forward. Though he is presently unable to write or focus his eyes enough to read for more than a few seconds, he can still dictate. Gavian, to little surprise, has volunteered for the task of taking down his words—indeed, to his credit, he has barely left his grandsire’s side these past three days.

Ambassador Kaval and Marquess Ampok have departed for now. They are going with Princess Celestia to receive Queen Jeyenne, regent of the Gryphon Kingdom on an official state visit, who will be arriving at Polaris Base by one of the Kingdom’s own naval airships today. My herd has been invited to receive them, and though others of my herd may go, I have respectfully declined. I will see the Queen later at the state dinner, but for now, methinks my place remains here with my father.

‘Tis hard to believe that the tale of the Epsilon battle is nearly at an end, but much remains of it to be told as we found ourselves on the cusp of rescue but still facing annihilation from a skilled and determined foe.

‘Tis a very hard thing, one must understand, to go from expecting and even accepting death to suddenly learning one might yet live.

‘Twas an unexpected lesson I had come to learn as I went from lying paralyzed and helpless on the dusty floor of the cavern, awaiting the Raven blade slash that would end my life, to suddenly seeing and hearing the arrival of the Royal Navy outside, witnessing their guns open up and their soldiers storm the cavern through the same skylights the gryphons had used, coming to our rescue.

Methinks I knew not how such a thing was possible—I knew from Father that the Loyalty and her escorts were based in Stalliongrad, twelve hundred miles away!—but ‘tis certain I only accepted that what was happening was real when I was passed a communication gem by the air wing leader and I heard Captain Shady’s voice for the first time, calm and commanding that she was. Perchance ‘tis just as well that ‘twas not Father that answered my call; methinks I’m not sure if I could have avoided breaking down completely if he did!

Even so, ‘twas very hard for me to suddenly start thinking tactically and giving orders again. Indeed, I was trying to roust myself back to action as I was still reeling from the lightning bolt that had struck me and my near-death experience afterwards. Fortunately, others were able to pick up my slack and a visibly wounded Fell Flight took up the task in my absence. She directed our combined forces into a battle line and formed a defensive perimeter around the tunnel entrance, which had now become our escape route and loading area for the lifeboats.

Methinks I was no less stunned than you at the turn of events, Captain, even without being struck by lightning! I cannot say I was intentionally ‘picking up your slack’, as I knew not your status then; I was simply doing what I saw needed to be done. Though methinks I had no authority to issue orders to the Naval troops, they obeyed me all the same, perchance because between my large bloodied form and predatory appearance, they were afraid not to!

—Fell Flight

Perchance you are right, First Lieutenant. Indeed, ‘tis certain that ‘doing what needed to be done’ has always been the signature of your service, both in war and in peace. ‘Tis to your immense credit, as well, for as it turned out, we would need that defense you set.

I understand you will be likewise leaving to receive the Queen in your role as Thestral Emissary and note that you have already dressed for the occasion. My apologies for the speeches and ceremonies you must endure, as I know your disdain for them.

—Firefly

Fear not, Captain. For I am to give a speech of my own, and there is a side benefit this time—as a gryphon ship is coming in, that means there will be much meat available for me and my bat-pony brethren at the state dinner!

—Fell Flight

And you are welcome to it, my old friend. Methinks that this time, you do not have to save any for me!

Attending the Queen’s arrival in my place will be Blindside and my herd’s beloved stallion, who, despite the belief he stated whilst we awaited the final gryphon attack that morn, has become a fine sire to say nothing of a very loving and attentive mate.

‘Tis to him I pass the quill now, with apologies for leaving him in the proverbial lurch with respect to the reception.

Worry not, my wife. Believe me when I say I endured far worse than an occasional state dinner whilst serving as a Celestial Guardspony. And even with those, they were no fun, as all we could do was stand at attention and observe, not allowed to partake of the Princess’ hospitality ourselves!

Greetings to all who read this. I am Cirrus Stormrunner, former Celestial Guardspony and founder of Dominion Academy, a combat school open to all races designed to teach friendship through fighting.

‘Tis a concept that leaves some scratching their heads, but ‘tis one I find a surprisingly powerful and harmonious way to create mutual bonds and respect. ‘Tis my new career, as I left the military when the war concluded, finding myself with not one, but two mares who wished to herd with me and bear my foals, both fellow Bolt Knights!

Recalling my failures as a herd stallion before, I was reluctant, but they were persistent, and we finally wed not six months after the war. Our ceremony was presided over by Princess Celestia herself, who told us all that our greatest duty to Equestria was not to die in war, but to live so that we might establish a line and pass on our legacy.

‘Twas a duty we saw to quite quickly, as it turned out, as within a year, Firefly had birthed a son and Blindside, a daughter, and more followed over the next decade and a half as we did our part to replenish our nation’s losses, with two more mares joining our herd. Despite the lost battles and battle wounds I endured, methinks the greatest lesson I took from the conflict—and from my future mares themselves—was to appreciate what I did have; to respect both friend and foe, and learn to turn loss or even crippling injury to my advantage.

As fate would have it, I would have to begin learning that lesson quite quickly when the Loyalty battle group appeared and our evacuation began. ‘Twas certain the gryphons would not let us go so easily, however, and I regret I forgot myself and my duty when one in particular appeared.

Challenge Accepted

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0548 hours

“Centurion Nael!” I shouted into my blue gem as I beheld the Fortis Knight who had slandered Celestia in my presence, and who had then offered me a duel to settle such insults to honor.

Perchance if I was unwounded or calmer, the pain from the spearhead still lodged in my side a constant presence I couldn’t ignore, I wouldn’t have reacted so badly to the sight of him or risked my life—to say nothing of the evacuation—in a rather foalish confrontation, leaving the remains of my platoon behind just to try and slay one gryphon. But I’d been intent on the idea of dueling him since first meeting him, and suddenly, the opportunity to do so was in front of me.

“For the honor of Equestria and Celestia herself, I challenge you to single combat! Face me as you promised, so that I may end your life now!”

“Master Sergeant!” I heard Firefly’s voice call out from her own blue gem behind me. She was only just starting to organize the evacuation; the higher-pitched hum of lifeboat propellers making themselves known as they neared touchdown. “‘Tis not the time! Pull back, now!”

I knew she was right, but at that moment, either due to my wound, the insults to My Princess or all the losses my platoon had suffered over the past day, methinks I did not care. In fact, methinks I did something I never had before—disobeyed direct orders, ignoring her to walk right through our freshly formed battle line, my gaze never leaving Nael’s, whose eyes narrowed at the sight of me.

Somewhat remarkably, it worked, as he ordered his century of advancing troops to stop, to the shock of many, most notably the Ravens at the vanguard. “As you wish, Guardspony.” He announced his acceptance of the challenge, and then marched forward to meet me, leaving us facing each other but twelve paces apart.

“What are you doing, Centurion?” One of the Ravens, a sky gryphon tiercel, shouted in shock, going up to him. “We have no time for this! They’ll escape to the ships outside if we let them!”

“That matters not,” Nael grated out. “‘Tis a question of honor, not that I would expect an assassin to understand! I did indeed make him such a promise. And by my warrior blood, I cannot go back on my word!”

“You fool! You would let them go just for your honor?” the Raven asked derisively in Aeric as the battalion behind me took advantage of the reprieve to begin loading the wounded onto the Loyalty lifeboats, all keeping a wary eye on the standoff in back of them. “Methinks ‘tis your idiotic honor that cost us the chance for an easy victory here in the first place!”

Methinks I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but Nael’s only response was to lash out, quick as a manticore stinger, to grab his supposed ally by the throat with his metal-gauntleted talons and shake him hard. “I suggest you mind your tongue, assassin! Try to stop me, and I will crush your throat right now!” he promised, clenching his fist harder for just a moment, letting the grey-dyed warrior know he could do it.

“But sir—!” some of his Knight underlings were no more happy about that than the choking Raven was, who was either unwilling or unable to break free. “Let us at least engage his compatriots!”

“No! I said stand down!” He then flung the choking Raven aside, his emotions looking barely under control. “You may not attack them unless their vanguard flees! I promised him a proper duel! And so he shall have it!”

With that, he marched forward to face me. “Your challenge is accepted! The battle now turns on us! So present yourself, Guardspony!” he ordered, switching from Aeric to Equish, hefting his heavy, double-bladed battle axe. “For your dishonorable tactics this night, methinks your death and ruin is assured!”

“And for your slander of My Princess and unprovoked invasion of our lands, methinks I will take your life here and now!” I answered him attitude for attitude, a white-hot rage taking hold of me as methinks that at that moment, my entire world was reduced to him.

“We shall see, so-called Guardian of Celestia!” he promised, then pointed the business end of his double-bladed axe at me. “I am Centurion Cassian Nael of the Fortis Knights! And know that this duel is to the death!”

“I am Master Sergeant Cirrus Stormrunner of the Celestial Guard! And I would have it no other way!” And then without any further preamble, we launched ourselves at each other, weapons wielded, the first clash of our blades sending a shriek of metal upon metal echoing throughout the cavern.

Methinks that to this day, I am uncertain whether you were more brave or foalish to make that challenge, my stubborn but stalwart stallion. By rights, you should have been struck down right then and there, and ‘tis no doubt that naught but a little deeper into the war, such a scene would not even have been possible—perchance in part because this one happened.

But methinks I cannot deny that it worked out for us, given that Nael halted his attack just to fight you. Nevertheless, it did come at cost.

You do not have to remind me of that, my dear and oft-undiplomatic wife. Indeed, ‘tis certain I am reminded of it every time I look in the mirror. But nor would I take any of it back, even now. For in the end, it worked out for all concerned. Save the Imperials, of course.

‘Tis certain that Celestial Guardsponies are versed in far more than standard Guardspony combat techniques.

As our charge is to protect both Canterlot Castle and Our Princess herself, we receive much more training in close combat and melee situations, leaving us equally able to counter ground and airborne threats alike. We are strong, we are swift, and only the best of us ever receive the golden armor of Celestia’s personal guard.

On the gryphon side, Fortis Knights are masters of ground combat and heavy weapons; elite warriors who are also surprisingly formidable in the air despite their smaller wings and all the armor they carry.

They are the shock troops of the gryphon military to this day, and they take their title from the one who once saved the gryphon nation from the Cloven of the Sun, uniting the formally feudal society under a single banner against them. Their tradition is a long and proud one, and even the least of them are not to be trifled with in combat, let alone one who rose to the rank of Centurion!

But none of it mattered to me then. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have kept the battle in the air where my greater speed and maneuverability would tell. Had I been thinking clearly, I would not have demanded a duel at all, wounded as I was. Indeed, had I been thinking clearly, I would likely have forgone the challenge and ignored Nael’s presence to instead help Fell Flight command our battle line against the fresh force he led, buying time for the evacuation to proceed.

But ‘tis certain I was not thinking clearly then, and to this day I can only marvel at the outcomes. Determined to avenge an insult to Celestia’s honor, I ignored my future wife’s orders to demand a duel. Determined to beat the Centurion on his own terms, I then engaged him in ground combat, where the advantage was unquestionably his. And last but hardly least, he was unwounded whilst I was most certainly not, granting him an additional edge.

And yet, here I stood, ready to throw everything away to fight him; even willing to die in defense of My Princess’ honor.

Methinks that despite those outcomes, none here would say ‘twas your finest hour, Sergeant Major. In fact, ‘twas one of the most foalishly impulsive moves I’ve ever seen. And perchance you might consider that coming from me, ‘tis certainly saying a lot!

Thank you for your candor, Colonel. Though if you wish to talk about ‘impulsive’, perchance we may speak of your teenage son, Bat Hawk? Just last week, he tried to convince my youngest daughter to navigate the Castle Run with him at night with her eyes closed, and followed that up by drinking a bottle of Rainbow Factory Hot Sauce in her presence on a dare!

So I learned, as he was very sick afterwards and took several days to regain his sense of taste, to no sympathy from me. As she had done the hot sauce dare herself as a teen, Fell Flight then openly wondered if he was somehow her foal instead of mine!

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0551 hours

“Die, Centurion!” I shouted on my first pass only for my initial blow to be turned aside by his axe head, which he reversed to bring the heavy hilt down on my shoulders; a blow that could be crippling to a pegasus. But plenty of combat spars with Firefly herself meant I was faster than that and dodged it easily, attempting to use my superior speed and agility to rapidly reverse and bring my other wing up and then down in a sudden circular arc on the back of his neck.

Unfortunately, Nael was no neophyte in the realm of combat either, as he simply shifted his stance so that my wing only caught the top of his heavy Fortis Knight shield, still strapped to his back, and allowed his axe to come back into play, bringing it up almost as quickly as I had brought down my wing. A second wing-rattling collision occurred between our respective weapons, but his heavier one got the better of the exchange, knocking me askew and threatening to damage my wingblades.

Having gotten me off balance in the air, he followed that up with a simple blow from his talons, showing he could wield his heavy axe with just one set of them whilst curling his second set into a fist that connected with the side of my head, knocking me to the ground not far in front of his compatriots, who might have slain me easily right then and there.

None moved, however, as their discipline held, to the great and visible disgust of their attached Ravens, who were all but grinding the upper and bottom portions of their beaks together as they were held back from their killing work for reasons I can only imagine they thought as utterly stupid.

Nevertheless, Nael was their commander, and they obeyed his orders. “Killing me will not be easy, Guardspony. The Elder Rams learned that long ago,” he informed me in Equish with a smirk, replacing the axe on his back and then slowly marching towards me, having never taken flight in the opening moves of our battle himself. “Now get up! I would be disappointed if this ended so quickly!”

“What are you doing? You have him down! Now finish him!” The Raven leader demanded again as behind me, the first lifeboat lifted off and I saw that Swift Strike had joined our battle line, perchance on the commander’s orders, to some whispered words from his Raven counterparts.

“Shut up!” Nael snarled back at him. “He wishes satisfaction? He shall have it, and so shall I!”

Methinks the Raven was now actively considering striking me—or Nael!—down himself, judging by how his talons kept moving towards his blades, and ‘tis certain I was not the only one to notice. “Whatever you’re thinking, assassin, don’t. This Guardspony is mine!” Nael further warned, then raised his voice further to address the entire gryphon century.

“Listen and take heed, my fellow warriors! If the Ravens interfere in this duel, kill them!” he then ordered his Knight comrades in a booming voice, who looked unhappy but politely warned their erstwhile allies to stand down; I caught one saying that they did not wish to, but they would carry out their orders if they had to.

I would not wish to place odds on the outcome of a battle between a score of Ravens and four score of Fortis Knights, as much as I might have enjoyed the spectacle of an internecine conflict between them. Perchance if I had been in a less bloodthirsty or more clever frame of mind, I might have tried to take advantage of such a potential schism by goading the two sides against each other. But at this point? I regret I was too far gone, and yet… ‘twas hardly my original intent, but the duel ‘twas serving the purpose of allowing our evacuation to proceed as a second lifeboat lifted off and another landed in its place.

I dimly realized from the sounds of fresh battle outside that delay would work against us before too long, but for now, I had to keep this duel going for another minute, at least, for the final lifeboat to be loaded. One minute, I thought, in which I had to occupy and then slay Centurion Cassian Nael.

That, I decided as I pulled myself back to my hooves and cricked my neck twice to shake off his blow, ‘twould be a pleasure. “You are a true warrior, Centurion. But worry not about satisfaction. Worry about your life!” I told him as we began circling each other on the ground.

“I could say the same for you, Guardspony!” With that, he reared up to take a classic Fortis Knight combat pose, holding and then whirling his heavy axe in both sets of talons. “The only satisfaction I will have is in seeing your evil and insane princess fall!” This time, he goaded me, and I’m sorry to say, I fell for it.

With an angry snort, I bared my blades again and launched myself at him in another airborne pass. I cannot say how many times I’d been told over the years to never attack in anger, even by Still Way himself, and ‘tis a lesson I constantly teach as well at my combat academy.

‘Twas only here, however, that the truth of the lesson was finally driven home as he kept his wits about him and parried all my increasingly wild slashes with his spinning axe, aggravating me further by never leaving his hind legs to enter the air, using his wings for balance and rapid shifts of stance only.

Nor was I able to force him to do so, as only once did I find an opening to land a hard hoofstriker hit on his chin, which to my shock, did not even faze him as he shook off the blow with nary a grimace and then used my own momentum against me, grabbing my arm with his free set of Talons and flinging me up, head over heels.

I intended to use that tactic against him with a rapid midair spin that would give me fresh momentum and enable me to attack his head again, this time with far more wingblade force. Enough to allow me, I thought, to penetrate his helmet and end this fight in one blow. But ‘twas a dangerous choice of tactics as it meant I lost sight of him for a critical half-second whilst I completed my midair flip, and ‘twas only when I found myself staring his approaching axe blade in the face that I realized he’d predicted my strike, and I’d made a terrible mistake…

All this flashed through my mind but a quarter-second before it hit.

To this day, I do not recall the exact moment the axe struck me, and perchance ‘tis for the best. And yet, I can recall seeing the axe blade’s approach in uncanny detail, accompanying my realization that Nael had anticipated my move and that I had no way to block or prevent his counterstrike. It connected with my head and penetrated my helmet, despite it being even stronger than the Guardspony norm. It broke through the enchanted steel and knocked my head askew, shortly followed by knocking myself to the ground, sending me bouncing twice, helmetless, before I slid to a stop in the soft dirt.

Stunned, my vision went blurry, then black on the right side, not leaving me immediately aware of what was happening until I tried to rise only to falter again, a warm wetness telling me there was blood streaming down my cheek.

I could not see, but I heard the approach of Nael, as well as the horrified shouts of my own side. “Your challenge is met, Cirrus Stormrunner! The duel is mine! Now die, feeble excuse for a warrior!” the Centurion told me as he stood over me, then reared up to bring his axe down onto me with both sets of talons, intending to finish the job. And though I knew not the extent of my injuries at the moment, there was nothing I could do to stop him.

The blow never landed. “Gavian!” I dimly heard Swift Strike’s panicked call and suddenly, the next thing I saw—through my left eye only—was a blur of blue and brown as our young gryphon friend intervened, slashing off the top of Nael’s axe with his sword, sending it spiraling away.

“You dare, traitorous runt?” Nael called out in Aeric to outraged shouts from the gryphon side as I lay stunned and unmoving on the ground, only starting to understand as I tried and failed to rise again that I was, in fact, badly wounded, even if I knew not yet how.

The next words were Gavian’s, strong and sure despite the danger he was now in, and were the last I heard before I passed out from shock and a sudden surge of blinding pain. “I dare, Centurion! For the title of warrior and the life of the Master Sergeant, your next challenge... is me!”

As Osprey said, ‘twas not your finest hour, my dear Stormrunner, either in judgement or in battle. Methinks you knew better on both counts, and yet, ‘twas only through challenging the Centurion and delaying his assault—through not one but two duels he felt he had no choice but to fight—‘twas our escape allowed, and sufficient time bought to evacuate.

And yet, as I read through this account now, having not been able to watch it? I find it remarkable that every major decision and move you made here was wrong. Not the least of which is that instead of taking the fight into the air, you tried to best Nael on his own terms as an earth gryphon and failed, succumbing to his superior strength and surface fighting skills. Even now, all I can say is: surely you knew better?

I do now, my wife, as I paid the price and bare the scars of it to this day. But perchance I made up for it later? In any event, I regret I must depart now, as Queen Jeyenne’s airship will arrive shortly, and both Blindside and I will be part of her reception. Please give Father our regards and regrets the next time you see him, but we did not wish to wake him during the short time we were here.

I will. And indeed you did, if much later, both on the battlefield and in the bedroom! But the former is beyond the scope of this action, and the latter… well. Some conquests are best kept private!

As for myself, I was still overseeing our evacuation at the vault entrance and knew not what was happening at first, able only to dispatch Swift Strike to reinforce Fell Flight’s improvised battle line whilst I directed our remaining forces to escort the lifeboats along with the fresh naval troops. I shortly realized you were dueling Nael, and though at first blush I thought ‘twas a cunning move on your part to buy time even as I prayed for your victory, ‘twould seem it only worked out that way on accident!

What happened next was no accident, however, and though my heart dropped into my stomach to see it, ‘twas indeed the right move to make, and all honor belongs to the one who made it. For it, the quill is now yours, my brave and loyal son.

Thank you, Mother. And greetings to all yet again. I write this from the room where Grandfather rests and I keep vigil over him, hoping that the scratching of my quill will not disturb him. I, too, will meet the Queen eventually and am even scheduled to paint her portrait tonight; an enormous honor that will accompany her officially returning my gryphon citizenship and inviting me to Aresia to be received at her court.

She will do so over objections, as there are those even to this day that believe I am unworthy of it for siding with Equestria during the war, and once in a while I must still fight a duel for it.

I care not, as they, just as Nael did, learn that my size and upbringing does not mean I am unable to fight! In fact, I am told now that my hybrid style of combat is being adopted by smaller gryphons, who are no longer turned away from the military or combat schools because of their size. In many ways, I consider that my greatest accomplishment, even more so than my art!

On this first night of war, however, such days were unimaginable; I only wished to fight and die at Mother’s side. But as the Royal Navy improbably reached us and Swift Strike was ordered to our defensive line, I joined him without telling her, as I had already fought to defend Mother and I believed that the new point of greatest danger was where I belonged, this time with my Mentor.

I observed the latter half of the-then Master Sergeant’s duel with Centurion Nael, and with one Fortis Knight headfeather already to my name, I found myself with regret. Deep regret that I could not face the latter myself given how he’d insulted me earlier, telling me I could never be a warrior because of my size.

A regret that was quickly ended when Stormrunner fell and I saw Nael announce himself the victor, raising his axe with the intention of delivering the killing blow.

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0553 hours

‘Tis difficult to describe what went through my mind at the moment I saw Stormrunner, a mighty Celestial Guardspony and one of the few on base who could ever best Mother, felled by the Fortis Knight with an axe strike to his head that knocked him hard to the ground; one that left a large and bloody gash centered on the remains of his right eye.

Horror at the ugly wound. Dread as Nael marched up to Stormrunner, promising to finish him and the duel with a single slash of his massive axe, at which point I knew the cavern battle would erupt anew. Shock that I was shortly going to be witnessing my friend’s death. Disbelief that he’d had fallen so easily and he’d performed so poorly—my apologies, Father, but it’s true! Regret that by the rules of the duel, I could not save him…

And then I realized: What did I care about those rules? What did gryphon rules of honor mean to me anymore? I lived by pony rules of honor now, and they did not allow me to stand by whilst a good friend was slain! And thus did I act, leaping out from beside Swift Strike with nary a word to mark my decision; the only sound I made was to draw my sword as I flew towards Nael, and slash the top of his axe off as it reached the apex of his swing.

In truth, I must admit I wasn’t actually sure I could do it, but my perfect form combined with my finely-made and enchanted Raven blade was sufficient for the task, as my blow sent the double-bladed axe head spiraling away, landing hard on the ground several yards away, burying itself halfway in the loose dirt.

Methinks I could have tried to take his head instead, but I did not, for two reasons: first, I wanted Nael and all present to acknowledge my skill in battle—for his claiming that I could never be a warrior, I wanted to prove I was by beating the Centurion fairly! And second, I knew that if I did that, there would be nothing preventing the Knights and Ravens from attacking again. One duel had stalled them, but not enough as our escape to the Royal Navy airship overhead—methinks I did not even know such vessels existed before the Loyalty appeared!—was still not assured.

“Gavian!” I heard Swift Strike and several others call out behind me as I entered the improvised duel arena; I can only imagine what mother’s reaction must have been to hear my name called!

“You dare, traitorous runt?” Nael rounded on me, accompanied by outraged shouts from the gryphon side and shocked noises from the Equestrian one.

“I dare, Centurion! For the title of warrior and the life of the Master Sergeant, your next challenge... is me!”

Nael’s laugh was straight from the belly. “A duel? With you? Do not make me laugh! Methinks there is no honor or challenge in fighting one such as you!”

“Then methinks there should be no difficulty in killing me!” I shouted back, now standing over a twitching, bleeding Stormrunner, reared up with my sword drawn and taking an upright combat stance. “He is my friend! For his life and the escape of all Epsilon, I challenge you to single combat! You said I was no warrior? Prove it!” I goaded.

“Enough of this!” Once again, his Raven comrades were less than pleased and tried to dissuade him; I remember it struck me at the time how they seemed the most sensible ones there and the only ones to truly understand what was at stake. “Our time runs short, Centurion! They already have their wounded out! You need not face him, as slaying traitors is our job! So let us kill this refuse and be done with it!” The Raven leader demanded again, and for a moment, Nael wavered.

Fortunately, I knew my own kind well enough to know exactly what to say in response. “I see. So you will let the Ravens fight your battles for you?” I smiled sweetly at the Centurion, causing him to gnash his beak and growl. Having now two battles under my wings, and having slain a Fortis Knight in one and proven I could even hold off Ravens in the other, I was feeling far more confident in my abilities, and for it, the flow of words came easy.

“Do as they say, and methinks you will have a hundred witnesses to you declining to face a traitor but a third your size who insulted you to your face… you prissy, prancing peacock!” Methinks I said that last line with far too much glee as Nael instantly snarled and took a step towards me with murder in his eyes.

“Ignore him! We have but a minute left! Order us to attack!” The Raven pleaded again, only for the Centurion to violently shake his head, now looking barely in control.

“No!” he hissed out through a clenched beak. “Traitor though he is, he is correct—if I decline this challenge in front of an entire century of troops, I will become a laughingstock! And then, ‘tis certain that no honor can be attached to my name!”

With that, he discarded his broken hilt and was tossed a second, nearly identical axe by one of his compatriots, spinning it in a wide arc around his head before bringing it down hard, cleaving a large stone in two. “You had a chance to escape! But no longer! For taking my weapon and your insults to honor, you die here and now!” he promised me.

With that, I likewise spun my blade once and then pointed it at him, now speaking formally. “I am Gavian Ravenoff, an artist, son and warrior! To earn the title of the latter and to save the life of my new friends and family, I will defeat you! If I win, both I and our entire battalion leaves unhindered! Do you accept?”

“No!” The lead Raven couldn’t believe what he was hearing, only to be ignored again.

“And I am Centurion Cassian Nael of the Fortis Knights! Veteran of the war against the Elder Rams, and survivor of six campaigns! As they will never come to pass, your terms are acceptable! For the honor of the Empire and myself, I will end your existence, and shortly that of your so-called family!”

“We shall see! Now have at thee, coward!” I called, and with that, we shot towards each other, ready to end each other’s life.

With apologies, I must lay down the pen for now, as the presence of myself and Mother is shortly required at Canterlot Castle for my presentation to Queen Jeyenne, followed by a state dinner and my subsequent painting of her portrait.

‘Twould be a lie to say I am not nervous as I glance at my formal attire in the mirror, knowing that I will soon face the Queen of my race and successor to my parent nation for the first time.

In seeking some balm for my sudden surge of anxiety, I find my thoughts falling back to that long-ago day, when I faced my gravest test. And I tell myself that when compared to that, a royal visit is not scary at all!

Thank you, my son. We are both off now, leaving Father behind for a few hours as much as I may not wish to.

But perchance the timing is fortuitous, as Father has awoken, and all but demanded the quill again. Though I would normally say he should not be straining himself, as weak as he still is, I also recognize that in the end, he is as stubborn as I am, and that his desire to keep contributing to this tale is part of what drives his recovery!

Please do not push yourself too hard, Father. Methinks I will be most upset to discover you died with a quill in your mouth in my absence!

Fear not, my overly-attentive and anxious daughter. In fact, I feel that you have the worst of this evening, as you must listen to endless interminable speeches whilst I just get to lie in bed and write!

In truth, ‘tis certain I wish I was there, greeting the gryphons in the Loyalty instead of leaving it to my second, Vice-Admiral Starlight Schooner. I admit the slow pace of my recovery is frustrating, and I find the inability to get up and walk under my own power utterly galling.

It should start getting better within a few days, I am promised, but my body’s natural magic and healing abilities must remain suppressed for now. And thus, I remain very tired and barely able to lift my head. But at least I finally have enough energy and muscle control to write, if given frequent breaks.

Imminent Action

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0543 hours

‘Twas with some relief that I accepted command of the Loyalty in the Captain’s stead.

Methinks I was still very embarrassed at that point over my earlier outburst; my desire to challenge the Captain for reasons I finally understood to be short-sighted and selfish. ‘Twas certain I had no right to call her a coward simply for thinking strategically; for attempting to find the best balance between preserving the ships of the group whilst still finding a way to rescue the Epsilon garrison.

Methinks further she would have been well within her rights to relieve me at that moment, but she had not despite my grevious insubordination, recognizing it as an outburst born of fear over the fate of my family.

‘Twas during my second sojourn to the upper deck that I reviewed my actions and refocused my mind, recognizing that the Captain was right—that no matter how much I may love them, to save Firefly and Gavian was not the objective here. ‘Twas to extract the garrison, and then ourselves from occupied territory, rescuing the battalion and then running for home—a task that became nigh impossible if we arrived before the raid began, and with no more fuel for our engines.

Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, and my loyalty to Shady only grew for it. I swore I would not let her down again, nor allow my emotions to get the better of me, and ‘twas only then I returned below decks and gave a second apology. ‘Twas in front of the entire bridge crew that I offered to write myself up for gross insubordination and conduct unbecoming; even to resign from my post if she wished.

“‘Tis not necessary,” she told me with a smile, then reminded me that I would be needed to command the ship whilst she took the role of the absent Commodore Catamaran to direct the entire battle group in the engagement to come.

In the final half-hour of approach, we reviewed procedures and likely orders, as well as wargamed contingencies and what we would do for them. The other two ship commanders were in on our discussions, as were the respective bridge crews, as ‘twas good for them to hear what orders might be issued as well.

And thus did our twelve hours and circuitous fifteen hundred miles of approach to Epsilon reach its culmination on our final descent over the last twelve miles, the sun peeking over the horizon at our backs, just visible through the lingering fog and moisture in the air. ‘Twas agony to be told the final gryphon attack was going in and we were to allow it to happen, but ‘twas indeed the right decision. For it both saved us some fuel and allowed us to successfully ambush their ground forces, which were intent on their quarry and not so much on a potential threat closing from their rear.

As the Captain states, the sight and sounds of our guns opening up; the Royal Navy unleashing its might and firing its cannons in anger for the first time in half a century was a great moment of pride for us all, doubly so for the effect it had! Entire formations of gryphon soldiers were pulverized under the onslaught of our magical ballistae; I watched as two mages foalishly sought to challenge the Loyalty’s arsenal with lightning spells, only to be reduced to red mist by a subsequent volley which crushed their shields and annihilated them in an instant.

Our new magic-firing artillery, courtesy of the EIS’s Office of Magical Research, did their job well whilst our more conventional cannons cleared the topmost skylights for entry by our own forces, gaining us the initial advantage as the remaining gryphon soldiers scattered in confusion and fear.

Such would not last, however, as they circled out of range, trying to reorganize themselves and call in additional forces to challenge us. I did not hear Firefly’s initial call to the Captain, as the latter deliberately kept me out of that loop, perchance worrying that I might not be able to obey orders instantly if I started conversing with my daughter. I did, however, hear the order to launch lifeboats, which meant that against all odds, the battalion had survived and there were soldiers to be rescued!

I could not dwell on that fact or my fervent hope that my daughter and grandson were amongst them, as I kept our gunners busy and listened to our first casualty reports; the air wing had already lost a dozen flyers and one of the Magus lightning bolts had speared through one of our belly hatches to knock out the gun and its crew stationed there.

Healer teams were dispatched whilst I listened to Flash Fix frantically exclaim that the drain on the central crystal was worse than expected—“I dinnae think we can maintain charge for more than another two minutes, sir!”—forcing me to order the magical ballistae to shut down and the conventional cannon to take over the bulk of our barrage, saving our biggest and best guns for later.

Unfortunately, that was soon the least of our worries as lookouts reported a large force of Talons inbound from the south. But before I could warn the Captain, Lieutenant Commander Sterling Silver, acting Captain of the Duty, beat me to it as her transmission was overheard on the bridge.

“Ma’am? We’ve got trouble!” she called. “Fresh Gryphon cohort approaching from the south!”

“I see them,” Shady acknowledged evenly, having never once raised her voice whilst giving orders in the opening stages of the battle. “Commander Tailwind, they’ll be going for our ballonets. I believe you know what to do?”

I could all but hear the smile in her voice, which ‘twas one I now shared. I did indeed know, as ‘twas one of the scenarios we had planned for. “’Twould be my greatest pleasure, ma’am!” I answered, then issued new orders as Ensign Kusema reported the first loaded lifeboat was taking off; its crew warning us it was full of wounded and immediate healer support would be needed for several critically injured ponies.

“Inform sickbay to stand by. They’ll have to perform triage right on the boarding decks. All crew, clear the upper observation platform and head below decks! Flash Fix, prepare to silence our ballistae on my orders and redirect the full power of the armament crystal energy to dirigible defenses!”

“Full crystal power to the dirigible defenses? Are ye daft sir? We’ve never tried that!” He sounded shocked, and this time, he wasn’t just affecting airs. “The overload could burn our ballonets to a crisp!”

“And so could mages with fire and lightning spells!” I rejoined as the call from Shady came in again.

“All ships! Gryphon counterattack imminent! Cohort inbound from the south! Take defensive posture and prepare to repel boarders!” her voice sounded over general quarters.

I let those words sink in for a moment. “You heard the Captain, Commander! ‘Tis certain our standard defenses will not suffice against such numbers! Transfer power to the dirigible balloons on my orders, and then take up arms! Protect engineering and the main power crystal at all costs!”

“Aye-aye, sir!” he acknowledged unhappily. There was a brief pause, and I could then hear him hissing out his next words through gritted teeth, which I took to mean he was now wielding his broadsword in his mouth. “They won’t take down my bairns, or this ship!”

“Good stallion,” I unconsciously echoed Shady’s usual compliment to him, deploying my own wingblade for my good left wing. “Mister Sora, using lateral propellers, rotate ship twelve degrees clockwise and dip us fifteen degrees to starboard! Let’s bring all our port cannons to bear! We’ll give them one final volley of our magical ballistae before shifting power,” I informed all, waiting for Sora’s acknowledgment. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear a slight tremor in his voice as everypony but him stood up from their stations, ready to enter combat the instant the first gryphon figure was seen breaching the bridge doors.

That done, ‘twas time for more direct action. “All port guns, target the inbound force with starburst shells, conventional cannons fused to detonate at 100 yards and magical ballistae at 200 yards! Lifeboats and air wing, hold position below the Loyalty until volley released!” I further ordered as I heard Shady instruct the Duty and Vigil to increase speed and circle the Loyalty at slightly different altitudes, keeping the skies above it clear by catching any attackers in a crossfire that would also keep the two smaller ships out of the line of fire from each other’s guns.

Acknowledgements were received, and I waited until I saw the lifeboats stop and the gryphons had closed to within one hundred yards. “All port guns! Fire!” I ordered, and our guns answered instantly with another deafening roar that shook the ship as well as the air around us; a series of physical and magical projectiles bursting among the surprised gryphons to good effect.

Starburst shells were—and are—cannonballs that could be rigged to explode at a certain range, though that was more a function of time than distance, as the fuses had to be cut to a certain length in order to gain the effect. Even the magical ballistae had a variant of it through means I didn’t entirely understand, but they worked quite well as the lead gryphon forces were hit hard and then tried to scatter, our barrage sending nearly fifty occasionally badly mangled bodies raining to the ground below.

Despite their losses, they did not break their formations for the most part, half heading for the ballonets and the remainder trying to invade our various decks. “Flash Fix? Transfer power now!” I ordered as the first calls came in of gryphons on the upper decks.

“Transferring power… now!” he called back, and then I heard him give one last order to his crew to cover the doors to engineering before his connection was cut.

The mythril filaments that were woven around our ballonets instantly crackled with raw magical energy. They served two purposes: one was defensive, to channel a shield spell to protect our dirigible balloons; the incantation normally powered by energy from our engines and sufficient to deal with saboteurs or perchance even more minor raids like the Harpies might launch. I ordered the protection level ramped up here with additional power fed from our main armament crystal, to as yet unknown danger. And the other purpose?

As a damaged-but-intact two centuries of Talons descended on the ship with half headed for the ballonets, giant pink sparks erupted from the intersections of the filament web that covered them, magical electrical discharges that automatically reached out upwards and laterally for conductive bodies, whether they were living or metal, acting as what Corps weather teams would call scattershot bolts that made a very effective close defense. A few sparks even scoured the upper observation deck where I’d spent an hour or more earlier, slaying any gryphon soldiers unfortunate enough to have landed there.

The upper gryphon century recoiled en masse, with a score more falling wounded or dead to the ground. A lookout reported that an attached Magus Knight attempted to strike back with lightning of her own, but the enhanced shield spell prevented damage and the eruption of more sparks in its wake forced her to retreat, her own shield spell barely surviving the onslaught.

Still, I saw—and smelled—the mythril filaments starting to smoke, so I ordered Flash Fix to drop the crystal feed to quarter-power, hoping that the object lesson we’d given the gryphons on the danger of attacking our dirigible balloons directly would discourage them from trying again. I got only a very terse acknowledgment back, at which point I had no more orders to give.

For the entire bridge crew was shortly fighting for our lives against the Talon boarders.

As we return to the naval hospital late this night, I find you have written this, Father, and that the effort apparently exhausted you as I came in to find you lying on your back with your head propped up and the quill and parchment lying on your chest, the former having fallen from your open muzzle. The attendants also tell me you elected to forgo your dinner to write. I know you are an Admiral, but methinks you cannot simply order away your body’s needs!

But I am impressed with your latest entry, which shows much of how Naval ships operated back then, and even now. Joining me is Gavian, fresh from having his Kingdom citizenship returned. The Queen seemed very interested in him, and the fact that Ambassador Kaval personally presented him silenced much of the neighsaying about him, as my good friend and former foe pronounced him both a skilled artist and a mighty warrior, claiming that “there are few more honorable than he.”

The Queen then asked to interview Gavian alone, which she did. I am not privy to what was said, but Gavian must have impressed her as he emerged with not just his citizenship returned, but a preliminary sketch of her, which he promised he would turn into a full painting ‘in all her regal glory’ before her departure in three days.

But as Gavian has returned along with me, he wishes to continue his tale of the battle, and the duel he fought with Nael. Somewhat surprisingly, he tells me that he drew inspiration from that battle as he was speaking with the Queen, and wishes to explain why in further detail here.

Thank you, Mother. For the inspiration, methinks it goes back to what I said earlier about recalling the courage and confidence I felt at that moment as I faced mortal combat, and then simply drawing upon it again as I faced the Queen of my race and attempted to perform my art for her.

Out of respect for her station and the honor she showed me, I will keep what was said between us private, except that she wished to know—from my own beak—my story. She was impressed by its telling, and in the end, after testing both my sword and my pen, said she found me worthy of both my heritage and blade!

The duel with Nael was neither the first nor last time I fought in the war. Far from it, in fact. Yet ‘tis the fight I remember the most, for in my mind, in many ways ‘twas my most perfect battle, for the reasons I will now describe.

RWBY - White Trailer: Mirror, Mirror

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0554 hours

Methinks ‘twas only when Nael approached me that I understood how big he truly was.

With both of us reared up, he stood nearly twice as high as me, and even not counting his heavy Fortis Knight armor, he likely outweighed me four to one. ‘Twas certain as well that the difference in strength between us was enormous—he swung his massive axe with ease even though ‘twas certain I could barely lift it. Its shaft was as long as my entire body; each of its blades larger than my head.

And yet, I did not flinch, for I knew I could avoid it. Its large length meant there were only a limited number of means by which he could use it; mostly an overhead strike or a sideways swing. He could also thrust it, as it had a pike on the end, but I considered that less of a threat. Compared to the speed that the wingblades of Mother or Mentor could strike with, it may as well have been moving in slow motion.

I dodged his first strike with a backflip, then brandished my blade, speeding in to land an initial strike of my own; a ranging attack that struck but did not penetrate his armor and was more meant to determine his reaction times and how he would respond to the blow. He was not able to dodge or block it, but nor did he try, instead whipping his axe over to bring it down on my head. But I saw it coming ‘a mile away’ as I’d heard another earth pony term given, and darted behind him, following that up with a rapid succession of whirling slashes, each hitting progressively further up his metal-clad body.

Once again, none penetrated his excellent armor, though they certainly rattled him, and I was greatly gratified to see a look of genuine surprise on his face as he beheld my true speed and striking power; one Swift Strike had so carefully cultivated within me. Even the Ravens looked impressed, as several were speaking to each other in low tones, perchance discussing how best to slay me themselves.

If I had my way, they would not get the chance. But Nael this time surprised me as he was able to bring his axe around on me far faster than I thought he could—he’d been holding back!—whipping it backwards so I was forced to take the blow against my blade braced by my arm. I just barely hung onto my sword as I was knocked nearly ten paces back, but kept my balance.

“Die, traitor!” Nael pressed his advantage by charging in and taking to the air briefly for the first time to add momentum to his axe, bringing it down hard on the place I’d just been. But I once again escaped, using a single wingbeat to dart away laterally, intending to strike again whilst his weapon was down. But even in that short space of time, Nael was already bringing it up and around for a second strike, forcing me to dodge once more. He launched a forward slash, and then immediately reversed into a backwards one, forcing me to take the blow on my sword again, leaving me praying my Raven blade would hold.

It did, but I was once again knocked backwards and this time, flat on my back, forcing me to hurriedly flip up and away with my wings to take me out of his striking range. Once I’d recovered my bearings, I reversed course and charged him at full speed—or so I let him think.

I sped up even further just as I reached him, disrupting his timing and making his latest strike find only air whilst I went for his unprotected head, landing two strikes to both sides of his skull, the first rattling it through his helmet and second penetrating his armor at the very edge to reach his upper cheek below, a line of red quickly forming there.

“Die, murderer!” I rejoined, and knowing that I finally had him off-balance, I went for the knees of his hind legs next, trying to get them to crumple. They did not, but they disrupted his stance enough to preclude another axe strike, and this time I attacked upwards, my sword tip carving a furrow in his chest armor and then striking his chin, leaving a bloody cleft before I flipped in the air and dove on him again, this time landing a strike near his shoulder, trying to cripple a wing.

I was now fully confident in the fight outcome—perchance overconfident. I was indeed ‘running rings’ around him and his clumsy axe couldn’t find me. I hadn’t scored a truly deadly blow on him yet, but I was chipping away at his armor and my blade would find a way through it eventually. ‘Twas then he brought his axe around in another broad lateral swing I could easily avoid, which I did, leaping over it and readying to strike again. But I realized too late ‘twas a ruse as he’d swung it in one set of talons to free up his others; his left talons curling into a fist and finding the left side of my forehead, just missing my eye.

I was just barely able to turn away so my helmet took the brunt of it, but it was knocked off as I was sent sprawling, the powerful blow sending me twenty paces backwards through the air, stunned and bleeding from a fresh wound on my head.

“Gavian!” This time, I heard Mother’s call as she was now watching. With the evacuation of the battalion’s wounded and non-flyers completed, their withdraw left under the protection of Osprey’s platoon and several squadrons of naval pegasi, she had joined the cavern defense. She had planted herself in the middle of the pony battle line, to no surprise, intending to retake command to help fight off the Knights herself.

If all went well, ‘twould not be necessary. “Stay back, Mother!” I told her as I picked myself up again, blood from the wound flowing in a narrow stream down the left side of my face, bracketing my eye. “He is mine!”

“Mother?” Nael repeated derisively, to equal sounds of revulsion from the assembled Knights. “You call a leaf-eater pony your mother? How disgusting! Then you truly are unworthy of your race!”

The initial response I gave to that is too profane for these pages, so I will only repeat what I said after. “Disgusting, you say? My real mother abandoned me for being too small! Forced me to steal and scavenge from age six! Left me cold and hungry and wondering what I did to deserve it! Eventually forced me to whore myself out to a raider mistress!” Methinks my voice got louder and eyes blazed brighter with each phrase I spoke. “But the ponies took me in! Cared for me! Gave me a place and a purpose! Let me know family and friendship!” I told not just Nael, but them all.

‘Twas then I switched to Equish, wanting my next words to be understood by my pony friends.“You want to know why I side with them, Centurion? ‘Tis because they fed me! They schooled me! They let me become an artist and find a place amongst them! They even taught me the very combat style I’m now using against you! Let me become the warrior I always dreamt!” ‘Twasn’t entirely true as Swift Strike would say I developed my hybrid style on my own, but ‘twas also true that I couldn’t have developed it without him or all the practice I got with him, Mother and others.

“Methinks they have earned my loyalty, whilst all the Empire did was treat my life and talents as worthless! So as far as I am concerned, Centurion, you have it backwards! I am not unworthy of my race! My race is unworthy of ME!” I proclaimed to outraged shouts from the Knights who understood me offset by cheers from the Corps and Naval soldiers; the contest between our two sides now reduced to myself versus Nael.

With that, I resumed my guard stance and beckoned him forward with a goading motion of my talons. “So let us finish this! The sooner I slay you, Centurion, the sooner I may leave with my mother and all my friends!”

Nael was now seething. “Impudent young cub! Neither you nor your so-called ‘mother’ will leave this cavern alive!” With that, he charged me and our battle resumed once more.

Methinks I can only marvel at the turn of events, Captain, but perchance ‘twas indeed for the best, as it gave us a chance to deal with the outside forces. Trying to evacuate you in the chaos of the gryphon counterattack would have been a bloody and likely failing proposition. Which was not to say that our victory was assured without it!

‘Tis now noon the next day. I am shortly returning to Stalliongrad along with the Loyalty, which remains the flagship of Battle Group Capricorn to this day. ‘Tis a strange feeling indeed to find ourselves anchored in the air beside a gryphon airship, the GKS Arnau and her escorts, which brought the Queen and her court to Canterlot. I can remember many such instances during the war where such proximity would have meant we were exchanging cannon volleys and attempting to bring down the other, but now?

Now, we tour each other’s ships and our crews engage in some friendly but intense competition, whether aerial duels between our air wings or contests of cannon accuracy.

Here at the start of the war, however, ‘twas only Equestrian airships in the skies, and despite all the Royal Navy’s inexperience and oft-times questionable combat worthiness, those ships and their crews would become an integral part of the war effort, starting on this bloody second morn of war.

Battle Joined

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0556 hours

“All ships! Gryphon counterattack imminent! Cohort inbound from the south! Take defensive posture and prepare to repel boarders!” I called out over the general quarters crystal.

Methinks I’d been getting pretty good at switching crystals rapidly, though I also began to wonder then if the Office of Magical Research could come up with a way for single crystals to cover all communication channels instead of just two or three. In any event, there was little time to consider such things, and no more orders I could give as the cohort descended; ‘twas now in the hooves, horns and wings of the individual ship crews.

Which was not to say the numbers couldn’t be whittled down. I listened in satisfaction as Commander Tailwind took care of that on his end by turning and tilting the ship to bring all the port guns to bear, whilst I ordered our air wing to stay out of the line of fire. “Lifeboats! Cease approach! Hold position by the cavern entrance! 1st and 4th groups! Stay clear of the Loyalty! Protect the lifeboats but be ready to attack the gryphon formations on my signal! Duty and Vigil! Increase to half-speed and orbit the Loyalty at a distance of 500 yards; the Duty at 200 feet higher than the Loyalty and the Vigil at 500 feet! Target any gryphons who attempt to hit us from above!”

I waited for acknowledgements and the ships to start visibly obeying my orders before shifting crystals again. “What’s the status of the cavern battle, Phantom Flight?” I asked next, wondering why I wasn’t hearing much from there.

I was half afraid she wouldn’t answer because she was dead, but her voice came back immediately, if somewhat quietly, like she didn’t want to interrupt something. “Uh… methinks you’re not going to believe this, ma’am, but… we’re not fighting! We’re watching a duel!”

“A what?” Of all the answers I might have received, methinks ‘twas the least likely short of the gryphons inviting us to settle our differences over tea and crumpets! “Between who?” I asked, only to have the answer drowned out by the roar of the Loyalty’s guns as they opened up again on the approaching gryphons. “What was that? Repeat your last, Lieutenant Commander!”

“I repeat, the duel ‘tis between my son and the gryphon commander, Captain!” A very terse Firefly answered in Phantom Flight’s place; methinks I could hear the fear in her voice. “He convinced their Centurion to fight him! We cannot leave until the battle is decided, or the Knights will attack and my son will be slain! The terms of the duel are such that if my son wins, we will be allowed to leave the cavern unmolested—if they keep their word!”

“Understood,” I answered equally tersely, wondering how in the name of Luna’s moon he pulled that off and if such an unlikely deal could even be trusted. “Commanders, the gryphons are counterattacking our ships! Our time runs short, so prepare to withdraw from the cavern on my orders, regardless of whether the duel is done!” I told both Firefly and Phantom Flight, and then prepared myself to meet the gryphons, looking around to see my improvised personal guard also ready to receive them.

“Aye-aye!” the pair of acknowledgements came back as I watched the gryphons recoil from the volley but then quickly reform their ranks, if down a tenth of their numbers, a century each heading for our escorts. Of the remainder targeting the Loyalty, half went high for our ballonets and the other half attempted to storm the ship directly.

‘Twas not the tactics I would have used in their place, as they were splitting their forces and hitting us from the flank, instead of concentrating their landings against our more vulnerable bow and stern, but perchance they were simply uncertain of what our weaknesses were and sought to hit everything at once in hopes of finding one.

‘Twas then that the dirigible defenses were activated with a crackling sizzle; from the pinkish hue of the arcing bolts and faint wisps of bluish smoke coming off them, twas clear that Tailwind had—very dangerously—ordered the full power of our armament crystal diverted to them.

I could only imagine the fit that Flash Fix was throwing over that, but ‘twas a necessary risk given the several gryphon mages and several hundred Talons they were throwing against us, and I found myself praying that the mythril filaments woven around the dirigibles could take the overload.

To my relief, they did, as another score of gryphons were caught by the bolts and sent plummeting, paralyzed or dead from the electric shocks whilst the Magus attacks failed to penetrate the ballonets’ magical shields. Abandoning their efforts to take us down by destroying the dirigible balloons, they then attempted to board us with all their remaining troops.

“Air Wing! 1^st and 4^th groups! Engage the Talons! Use your speed and whittle down their numbers with crossbow shots and hit-and-fly attacks; do not try to fight them squadron to squadron! And do not rise above the level of the Loyalty decks!” I told them, awaiting acknowledgment from the group leaders, who came out from behind the Loyalty from below, avoiding the still-sparking ballonets above. That gave them a disadvantage as they would not be able to dive on the gryphons, but I hoped their crossbows combined with the disorganization wrought by our guns and defenses would allow them to drop a few more decades.

They had mixed results; as I watched, fifteen gryphons but an equal number of our troops fell in seconds before an 80-strong century turned on our air wing, trying to clear the sky of them whilst the remaining troops streaked in towards the Loyalty and began attempting to storm our upper decks.

The former was met by the outside platoon of Corps soldiers, who proved far more deadly to the Talons in aerial combat than our own, whilst the latter encountered a barrage of unicorn arrows and spears lancing out from cannon ports and hatches. The return fire from their crossbow bolts didn’t find much through the narrow openings, though they did finally drive our archers back.

‘Twas then that a gryphon turma noticed us on the lower decks, and guessed from my formal Captain’s attire and escort that I was somepony important. At their Decurion’s order, they made for us and our unicorns opened up first with their longbows, as I reared up and drew my sword.

Only one arrow struck home, sending a low-ranked Talon spiraling to the ground with a wounded wing, whilst the rest launched a crossbow volley that hastily raised unicorn shields but barely deflected.

“Get back, Ma’am!” A voice said from beside me. Its owner was Cutlass Cleave, acting as my personal bodyguard and armed to the literal teeth with multiple blades strapped to her side, loaded crossbows on each of her forehooves, and her namesake in her mouth. Four burly earth ponies, two mares and two stallions armed with spears, swords, and crossbows accompanied her—‘twas certain she’d never been one to coddle colts; if you worked under her, you were expected to be able to fight—as well as four hoofpicked unicorns she promised me were both steady under fire and deadly accurate.

Methinks I was given cause to wonder how true that was when their second volley found no targets and one stepped forward only to slip hard and hit her head; her shield faltering and longbow falling to the ground with a clatter.

‘Twas then I realized—’twas my doing! My bad luck was infecting them, I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, and thus, my only option was: “No! All of you get back and stay back!” I ordered them, stepping forward out of their protective umbrella.

“But ma’am—!” Cutlass Cleave was shocked. “They’ll kill you!”

“It matters not!” I shouted back. “No time to explain, but do not try to defend me! If they want me, I’m here! I will be the bait; strike targets of opportunity and defend the hatches! Do not let them reach the bridge!” I instructed, not knowing my orders were already too late and the bridge crew was now fighting for their lives.

Methinks at that moment, I was making what I felt was a necessary sacrifice to keep the rest of my crew from dying in a futile attempt to save me. I believed that Commander Tailwind could take over in my place and my final act would be to spare my ship and crew the seeming bad luck curse that had haunted me my entire life. I did not yet know its nature or how it could also work for me, but an education was shortly to follow for both pony and gryphon alike.

‘Tis now evening as I finish penning this latest section, and ‘twould seem our return to Stalliongrad will be delayed. The Arnau’s commander has publicly challenged the Loyalty to a war game; a dawn duel in front of our respective regents!

‘Tis an offer we can hardly decline and even the Admiral, infirm though he is, demands a front-row seat. Methinks he cannot easily be accommodated right now, but we will try to arrange it so he can listen in on our crystal communications, at least. And ‘tis to the Admiral that I now pass the quill again, having written the last section in his presence and now recording as he narrates the next section to me as Gavian sleeps.

Even aside from our difference in ranks, ‘tis the least I can do for him after all he did for me.

Thank you for continuing to humor me, my old friend and Captain, and for continuing to provide me company. Perchance ‘tis a measure of my progress for me to say that I am now thoroughly sick of the hospital and its food, as well as being confined to my bed.

The steady stream of visitors makes it tolerable, at least, and being able to work on this gives me something productive to do. In truth, part of me now wishes I had delayed the procedure until after the Queen’s visit, but then ‘tis certain I would have been distracted by my anticipations and fears still longer.

As I reread the still-swelling contents of this chapter, I can only marvel at all that was happening; battles on so many different fronts that ‘tis hard to keep it all straight in our heads. ‘Tis certain we know our own fights well enough, but trying to piece all of them together into a single coherent retelling has, at times, required at least a modicum of guesswork to determine what came first.

Imperial accounts of this action, I am told, will be shared later by Ambassador Kaval, but he insists that for now, ‘tis the pony side that should be heard exclusively here.

Battle for the Bridge

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0557 hours

It had been the Captain’s hope that we could get in and out in five minutes; get the battalion aboard, recover our air wing, and then flee the scene. Unfortunately, the enemy gets a say in such plans, and to their credit, the Talons were reacting quickly to our unexpected appearance, their reserve cohort unflinching before our airship guns and preventing us from recovering our lifeboats.

Despite their losses to our guns and dirigible defenses, they began storming our ship from multiple directions, perchance looking for a weakness they could exploit or a critical point they could hit.

The bridge was certainly the latter, with its concentration of officers and ship controls—the ship could technically be flown and fought from engineering, but ‘twas hardly a first choice as it lacked the visibility of the bridge—and Flash Fix, who was actually third in command, could not both tend the engines and main armament crystal whilst simultaneously directing the ship. He had subordinates, of course, but in the end, ‘twas certain he trusted nopony but himself to do the job.

In any event, his sole task was now to protect engineering and keep the ship flightworthy, whilst I did the same for the bridge. “Sentries! Take up spears and flank the main hatches!” I ordered our earth pony naval guards first, who hastened to obey, covering the large doors in back of the bridge. “Crossbows! Cover the other entries! Longbows! Take positions on the flanks!” I pointed to various spots on the bridge away from hatches and windows, dispatching our pegasi and unicorns in turn before turning to the helm, where Lieutenant Sora could not leave his post.

“Mister Sora, lock the ship into a hover and draw your sword! Do not let them take the helm!”

“Aye-aye, sir!” he obeyed, slapping a control and then reaching for the blade on his back, drawing it and rearing up in an old neighponese sword stance whilst I brandished my wingblade, awaiting the first intruders onto the bridge.

We did not have long to wait. I had armor-piercing bolts notched in the one-shot crossbows strapped to my foreleg wrists, as I thought an explosive bolt was a bad idea in the close quarters of the bridge. Unfortunately, the gryphons were not so restrained as a series of them blew open the forward starboard hatch, which was one of two that led downstairs to the forward observation deck. I feared that meant that the Captain and her security team had already been overrun, but methinks I couldn’t worry about that now.

Even as I raised my crossbow, a longbow arrow whistled past my ear, fired from the opposite side of the bridge. It impacted the first gryphon in his eye, causing him to slump forward, but then a series of gems were tossed in after him.

“Down!” I shouted as the first two went off—flash gems—which made me panic for a moment, worrying there were Ravens amongst the invaders, in which case we were as good as dead. But two more Talons came through instead, only to meet an immediate wingblade slash from Aries Azimuth, who caught the crossbow arm of one and sliced it clean off through his leather vambraces, to an immediate shriek whilst she and her compatriot fell to a pair of earth pony crossbow bolts in turn—they clearly had not expected our soldiers to be armed with them!

“Get clear, Lieutenant!” I called as more gems were tossed in. But this time, our now-alert unicorns magically grabbed them and tossed them back where they came, causing a series of explosions within the passage followed by several screams. The corridor filled with smoke and I thought maybe we’d driven them off…

Until suddenly the mangled body of a slain Talon was thrown through with several armed and glowing gems secured to his body!

Recognizing the danger, we dove for cover, including me behind my command chair, as a hastily erected unicorn shield contained the explosion. But the effort overwhelmed its caster as Ensign Carrack collapsed to the deck with a cry of pain and a cracked horn, which also took us down one longbow. Taking advantage of our distraction, the remaining six Talons of the decade charged out of the passage with a raucous battle cry, and the bridge became a battlefield.

I immediately leveled my left crossbow and fired, hitting the ranking Talon—a Decurion—in the foreleg, who cried out but still urged his force forward; I knew just enough Aeric to recognize he was telling them to concentrate their fire on me as the evident commander! ‘Twas then that our spear-wielding earth ponies entered the fray, a thrown lance impacting a torso with enough force to impale itself in its owner’s heart, whilst the other was used to drive another Talon—a sky gryphon—up into the ceiling, and then thrown into his comrade, where Aries Azimuth and Sora combined to strike them down. That left three, two of which engaged me blade to blade and the third going for Sora, attempting to destroy the helm, only to find our helmspony was every bit his equal with his Neighponese blade.

For myself, Methinks I was decent enough with a wingblade; I’d even had to come up with my own independent combat style to accommodate my lack of a working wing, but I was still hard-pressed by two scimitars wielded by trained soldiers...

Until a knife with some sort of snare attached suddenly impacted the closest gryphon and somehow stuck, penetrating his armor like old paper before yanking him backwards towards its owner—a hard-eyed Ensign Kusema, who used her earth pony-like strength to her advantage.

She made a motion that caused the strange blade to pop free, and then she whipped it in a wide arc to bring it right down on his helmetless head with a sickening sound whilst I took the final gryphon myself, surprising her with my second crossbow on my right wrist, firing it right into her chest. Her beak gaped open in a soundless scream, as my bolt had penetrated her lung, and no longer able to draw breath, I ended her life by slicing open her throat whilst beside me, Sora slew his adversary, overwhelming the sky gryphon tiercel with his ancient but effective sword style and finishing him with a slash across his chest.

From beginning to end, it had taken but thirty seconds, and though I feared a second strike from the boarders, suddenly our air wing combined with the surviving Corps soldiers were swarming over the exterior, chasing the remaining Talons away and killing the ones aboard. ‘Twas that moment that the forward port hatch opened and… in strode the Captain, looking unharmed except for a few spots of blood that I could not tell if belonged to her or those she had fought, accompanied by Cutlass Cleave and most of her security detachment.

“Captain!” we all cried out, but she simply went to her chair and sat down despite the blood spatters there, magically shifting a gryphon body away.

“As you were,” she told us calmly despite the carnage, and then spoke into her communication crystals again. “Lifeboats, dock immediately! Air Wing! Continue to guard them until disembarked, and then fly combat air patrol in standard patterns! All ships! Set course for Royal Navy Base Ursa and prepare to go to flank speed!”

Methinks I must apologize for delaying your departure, Commodore, but simply ending my fight with the Centurion unfinished and retreating ‘pell-mell’, as I have heard it termed, was out of the question. Perchance ‘tis just my gryphon blood speaking, but my sense of honor and warrior spirit would not allow any outcome to the duel but victory or death, regardless of your orders.

In any event, ‘tis time to complete the battle’s account. Grandfather, I note, wishes very much to see it finished, having not been able to bear witness to it. And thus, at his bedside, I pen my final section of the story.

RWBY - White Trailer: Mirror, Mirror Redux

Outpost Epsilon
Storm Cloud Vault
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0558 hours

“So let us finish this! The sooner I slay you, Centurion, the sooner I may leave with my mother and all my friends!”

Nael was now seething. “Impudent young cub! Neither you nor your so-called ‘mother’ will leave this cavern alive!”

“We will see.” I echoed the words and intonations of my Mentor; ones he had spoken to a Raven who had challenged him in the raid they’d launched to kill me so many months earlier. Methinks at that moment, I was aware of nothing except Nael; my entire life’s work reduced to but a single purpose:

Slaying him and saving my family.

True, I knew I was between two opposing battle lines that might engage each other—and me—at any moment, and I knew there was an airship outside waiting to whisk us to safety whose departure could not be long delayed. But I cared not. All I did care about was my sworn oath to repay my blood debt; to defend Equestria… and prove to this veteran Fortis Knight that I was every bit the warrior he was.

The warrior he claimed I could never be.

A proof that could only be offered with my victory, in a duel which still very much hung in the balance. “I will see that you die!” he retorted, and with that, he charged me and our battle resumed again.

To the likely horror of my mother, I didn’t immediately move this time as the Centurion bore down on me, bringing his massive battle axe to bear in an overhead strike yet again.

“Gavian! Move!” I heard Swift Strike shout in a rare note of panic, but I didn’t, deciding I’d take this blow head on just to prove that I could. I saw the smile on Nael’s face as he recognized my intention, believing his strength would overwhelm me…

But whilst an earth gryphon’s strength is in their legs and torso, a sky gryphon’s is in their wings. Though mine had been severely stunted until recently due to malnutrition, they had filled out nicely in the course of the past year, and the daily exercise and sparring sessions I’d been through had made them as strong as any Wind Knight. So, I simply added their force to my upward block; the impact of metal on metal ringing out loudly but, to the astonishment of Nael and his compatriots alike, my sword parried his axe! I even caused him to lose his iron grip on it briefly!

‘Tis certain that I, too, was knocked back, but the audible gasps I heard from the gryphon side were music to my ears as they finally understood that I was, in fact, every bit their equal or even better! So were the cheers and sounds of astonishment from my own side; the former coming from the Corps troops who knew me well and the latter from the Navy troops who were getting a rapid education.

Nael quickly regained his grip and tried another single-paw sideways swing, but to his annoyance, I simply hopped over it again, using the flat of his axe head as a springboard to launch myself skyward and dodge the follow-up fist he’d floored me with before. I then rolled forward in a spinning slash aimed at his head—an attack I’d invented and was now trying in combat for the first time. He flinched in the face of my rapidly spinning blade and turned away, bringing up the staff of his axe to guard his head.

‘Twas but a feint, however, as I instead attacked his wrist and my spinning sword got through, slicing right through his armor and embedding itself an inch in his flesh, causing him to lose his grip with a sharp cry of pain. I then knocked his axe away, disarming him for a second time as I pushed back off his own chestplate to dodge his retaliatory swipe. Shaking off the blow—methinks he was nothing if not incredibly persistent!—he drew a throwing axe from inside his armor with his good set of talons and sent it whirling my way.

I deflected it with my sword, but ‘twas soon clear ‘twas just a ruse as he used my distraction to rush me on all fours and then take a flying leap, swiping hard with his claws in a slash that would have eviscerated me if I hadn’t leapt back myself with a single beat of my wings to give me added momentum—I’d gotten very good at using my wings to move myself along the ground as well as the air, thanks to innumerable drills and sparring sessions with my mentor. Pushing off with my hind legs and wings, I struck his right arm and scored again, sending a spray of blood off his penetrated upper arm and rendering it useless.

For the first time, he staggered back and was unable to bite off his cry of pain, able to make only a half-hearted swipe at me as I passed.

“The duel is mine! Now die!” I shouted triumphantly in Aeric as I swooped up and then over, reversing my grip of my sword so it was now held in my right set of talons with my thumb on the hilt and the blade pointed outward. I then dove on him with all my acquired speed, adding it to my strike against his throat. Visibly exhausted and his reaction times slowed, he tried to raise his good arm but my blade found its mark and penetrated his weakened neck armor. There was a sharp gout of blood as Nael staggered back in agony and disbelief, clutching at his ruined throat to no avail. For a moment, he tried to clamber after me, but he faltered and finally fell over hard, his lifeblood spilling out on the ground around him.

With that, I sheathed my sword and turned to the stunned Knights. “The duel is mine! Unless any now present object?” I smirked at them all. “And by its terms, all may leave unmolested.”

“No!” The Raven commander shouted. “You broke the terms of the first duel by interfering! Therefore, the duel agreement is invalid! Knights! As the Centurion has fallen, I am now your commander! By my orders, attack!” he demanded, but only his fellow Ravens began to obey as Mother and Swift Strike stepped forward to flank me and the Naval troops leveled their crossbows; the warriors of shadow quickly halting their advance as they realized the Knights were not following them.

“Hold!” the Naval commander, Phantom Flight shouted along with mother to prevent a volley from being launched. “Regardless of his actions in the first duel, my son offered the terms to your Centurion and they were accepted! We kept our side of the bargain by staying when we could have withdrawn!” the latter spoke on my behalf.

“She is right, First Spear,” an eagless Knight that bore the rank of Optio stated in Equish in mingled resignation and disgust. “Even in death, the Centurion’s orders and his acceptance of the duel terms stand. As the duel is done and he only told us to prevent you from interfering in it, we will not stop your teams if you wish to attack. But nor will we help you.”

“Very well! So what is it to be, First Spear?” Mother challenged the Raven with a smirk. “If you and your fellow assassins wish a suicidal fight against my one hundred and twenty soldiers, feel free to attack! But to get to Gavian, you will go through me,” she warned, brandishing her wingblades as the rest of the battalion likewise lowered their heads, snorting and pawing at the ground in warning. “You may slay some of us. Perchance even myself. But ‘tis certain you will not survive. And you will not prevent our escape!”

“Methinks your overconfidence is your weakness, commander!” the Raven said through a clenched beak. “This isn’t over yet!”

“And methinks your faith in your so-called friends is yours!” Fell Flight retorted. “We’re done here, ma’am! We can kill them another day!”

‘Twas at that moment the Naval Captain’s voice was heard again over the communication crystals, ordering an immediate retreat to the airship. “Methinks you are correct, Master Sergeant! Battalion! By the Captain’s order, withdraw to the airship! Naval Troops! Cover our rear! Keep crossbows trained as you withdraw, but do not attack unless they do!” Mother ordered, though she did not immediately move. Before she could give an additional order, Sky Sentry flew out to pick up an unconscious and gravely wounded Stormrunner, blood still dripping off his head.

“Everypony gets out!” he said through tears as he hoisted his fellow Guardspony on his back, repeating his own words like a mantra. “Everypony gets out!” he said to himself again as he flew out the opening of the emptying vault and up to the waiting airship.

We waited another thirty seconds before withdrawing the Naval Troops as well, Mother and Swift strike along with Phantom Flight commanding our rear guard as the cavern was evacuated once and for all.

Well fought, my honorary nephew.

I suppose I might be more annoyed if the outcome had not turned out so well for us all. I wish very much I had gotten to witness your battle, but ‘twas certain enough that I had my own to worry about at that point. I have saved that tale for last, not because I wish the spotlight, but because I consider it less important than the previous actions. For regardless of what happened to me, ‘twould all have been for naught if the other fights had not been won.

I complete this following section just before leaving for the Loyalty, which awaits its aerial duel with the Arnau over the Naval drill fields of Polaris Base. The Captain of the Polaris, Prince Blueblood himself, is said to be insulted that his flagship was not selected, but ‘tis certain the Loyalty is the most famous ship of the Royal Navy, and for it, ‘twould be just as much an insult now as it was then to not meet the gryphons with our best.

Escape from Epsilon

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0554 hours

As I ordered my security team back and stepped forward out of their protective umbrella, ‘twas certain I thought my life was to be measured in seconds.

I heard reports of boarding actions across all three ships, and alternately frantic, panicked, and triumphant calls of officers leading the defense, but there was nothing more I could do except defend myself. I thus reared up and drew my sword, taking what is, for a unicorn, an unusual posture in reflection of my equally unusual swordfighting style. ‘Twas a blade art developed a century earlier by a unicorn who had lost the ability to levitate, and though I was not quite in that camp, my strangely stunted aura could not wield or swing a sword with any real speed or power.

My custom saber was designed to be worn on the right forehoof and fought with in an upright posture, whilst the opposite forehoof was used for balance, held behind and above the head, and I did not have long to put that style to the test as the first Talons streaked in, crossbows leveled.

I faced them calmly, expecting a crossbow bolt to impact my head or chest at any time, and indeed, a few bolts were loosed. But none hit, one whistling past my ear and the other, striking the deck between my hind legs!

Amazed at my own good fortune—so different than what I’d known my entire life!—and ignoring Cutlass Cleave’s renewed plea to step back, I marched forward to expose myself further as the Talons began to swoop down, blades leveled. But the lead one misjudged how much space he had between the deck and ceiling to hit his forehead hard on an overhead beam, the speed of his own passing and eagerness to slay me knocking him out to say nothing of head over heels, sending him hard to the deck. He slid along the wooden floor until he ended up right in front of my dumbfounded security detail, who slew him with ease after.

Two more Talons then appeared, crossbows armed, targeting me. But the lead one’s weapon all but exploded in her grip as the drawstring snapped upon release, badly bloodying her talons and causing her to drop the weapon with a cry of pain, whilst the second landed on a splintered board the first dead Talon had left when he fell hard there and caused it to give way, sinking into the surface. Stunned and off balance, she was swiftly slain by my sabre via a stab through the neck.

At that point, I might have had an inkling as to what was happening, but I could give it little real mind as a fresh decade of Talons appeared. Approaching more carefully now, several lit onto the deck, trying to bracket me with their crossbows only to be cut down by unicorn longbows fired from the hatches behind me that they had been unaware were there. And when the rest of the decade backed off and tried firing explosive bolts from range, forcing me to withdraw, the explosion of the first against the side of the ship sent debris into the path of the others, detonating them prematurely, though they still made my ears ring and sent some fragments into me; a couple spots of blood appearing on my white dress uniform.

Perchance ‘twas then that I realized—’twasn’t just ridiculous luck. ‘Twas me! ‘Twas the seeming jinx that haunted me all my life turned into a weapon not against me, but against my foes! I had never even imagined such a thing could be a boon to me, but the evidence ‘twas there before me as I not only survived, but my adversaries were falling at my feet, my sword and the projectiles launched from behind me finding their marks with uncanny precision as Talons simply blundered or slipped into my path or each other, leaving them easy prey.

Cutlass Cleave performed brilliantly, taking on two Talons at once and slaying each in turn, whilst the rest of the security detail suffered minor wounds but no deaths, their sheltered position combined with my unnatural luck enabling them to account for several more gryphons.

Newly confident and feeling strangely untouchable, I engaged the remaining Talons directly as they landed. I whirled and sidestepped, slashed and thrusted, confounding and surprising the Talons if their disbelieving looks were anything to go off of.

Their surprise was short lived upon seeing the first of their group fall from a slash to the throat, and two on either side of me attacked at the same time, hoping to overwhelm me and find an opening. Normally, such a tactic among those who train together would be sound and efficient, but they clearly didn’t know about my odd abilities. The first Talon’s blade was blocked by the flat of my own, and before she could attempt a second strike, her partner tripped on an uneven plank, his momentum and blade point going at just the right angle that a hop to the side by me ended with him impaling the eagless in the chest.

He stared at his now dead partner for a moment in horror, realizing what had happened. He turned towards me, only for me to stab him in the neck before he could free his own weapon from her chest. Again, the Talons could only gape at the sheer unlikelihood of what they had witnessed.

One of the Talons eventually shook herself from her stupor and barked out a command in Aeric, and the rest moved to attack me once more. I continued to dance and block their strikes, and after another instance of a gryphon somehow cutting off one of his comrades claws, as well as a few trips and falls, within a minute, a score of gryphon regulars were down and the rest retreated as the ship repulsed the attack; I heard an infuriated call from Flash Fix that engineering was safe but “they smashed my still!”, swearing bloody vengeance on the gryphons for it.

The lower observation deck clear except for corpses, and the bridge now apparently secure after a brief but sharp battle, I ordered my team to reinforce them, deciding I would command the rest of the battle from the bridge, heading up the port side passage.

“Captain!” came the cry as I entered to find another half-dozen dead gryphons there along with two wounded crew; my second and the bridge officers had clearly given a very good accounting of themselves.

“As you were,” I said as I magically tossed a slain Talon off my command chair. “All Corps forces, retreat to the Loyalty! Lifeboats, dock immediately! Air Wing! Continue to guard them and then fly combat air patrol in standard patterns! All ships! Set course for Royal Navy Base Ursa and prepare to go to flank speed!”

I heard some acknowledgements come back, and then the main hatches behind me opened to reveal…

“Father!” A pegasus mare in Guardspony armor that I could only assume was Firefly shouted, all but launching herself at Commander Tailwind and hugging him hard. “You came for us?” She asked through tears.

“Not by myself, my daughter,” Tailwind sniffled back. “You may thank Captain Shady for this rescue.”

“‘Tis good to finally meet you, but reunions can wait, commander,” I told her. “We’re not out of this yet!”

“Ma’am! Report from the loading deck: all lifeboats are docked, and our squadrons are pulling back!” Ensign Kusema reported, her odd weapon still impaled in the head of a gryphon corpse by her station, but she gave it no mind. “The cavern is evacuated and all Corps forces are now aboard!”

“Then let’s waste no more time. Tell the Duty and Vigil to form up!” I instructed to her, then turned to Sora, whose own bloodied blade had been replaced on his back and who was ignoring a wound to his hind leg. “‘Tis time to leave! Bring us around on a heading to Royal Naval Base Ursa, and order the group to flank speed! Get us out of here, Lieutenant!” I shouted, scarcely able to believe we’d pulled it off.

“Aye-aye, ma’am!” he replied, and then spun the ship’s wheel around whilst pulling on it at the same time. We heard the thrum of the propellers increase in volume as we made our way into the air, clawing for altitude, turning about to leave the border behind.

“Ma’am!” Kusema called, suddenly shocked. “The Vigil has formed up as ordered, but the Duty is holding position!”

“What?!” I barely restrained a curse, and tapped one of the gems on my chair. “Shady to Duty! Sterling Silver, what in Luna’s name are you doing?!”

“Apologies, ma’am,” came the resigned reply. It sounded somewhat distorted, as though the communication gems had been cracked. “Magus Knights hit our engines with a lucky shot. We’re dead in the air and being overwhelmed by boarders. Even if we could still repulse them, we can’t attain flank speed. Given that, I made the call to stay here and buy you more time.”

“Lieutenant Commander—” I began, but was cut off.

“Captain, with due respect, you can’t afford to slow down for our sakes. If you do, you won’t escape gryphon pursuit,” Sterling Silver pointed out. “We came here to rescue the Epsilon garrison, and that’s what you need to do. Compared to them, an old escort full of half-trained greenhorns isn’t worth much. The Duty is lost, and in accordance with Naval General Order Number Five, I’ve already given the orders, ma’am.”

Several emotions whipped through me at that; dread, horror, and disbelief were chief among these. “Sterling…”

“I know I’m not much of a mare, ma’am,” she said with a resigned air. “Methinks I’ve had a silver spoon in my mouth since the day I was born. Like so many other nobles, I joined the Navy purely to claim military experience. I never expected to make rank, let alone be part of all that’s happened here.” Her voice suddenly firmed. “But I’m here, and I’ll be damned before I let these overgrown chickenhawks have their way with us! Get going, ma’am! And don’t let us die in vain!”

I let out a long breath and nodded to Sora before I spoke again. “Celestia light your path to the Summerlands… Commander Sterling Silver.” I put enough emphasis on the word to make sure she understood that my omission of the ‘Lieutenant’ that should have been the first part of her rank was no accident.

There was a slight pause from the other end. “And may She watch over you, Captain,” Sterling replied, a hitch in her voice at the last-minute promotion. “‘Twas an honor to serve with you.”

There was a sudden cacophony from her end, as though something had just exploded. There was some rustling and shouting, followed by a gurgling shriek, and then a male voice, tinged with a gryphon accent, could be heard. “How valiant of you and yours, Captain,” the unseen tiercel drawled. “Defending your posts down to the last pony. A pity ‘tis all for naught!”

There was a pained snort. “Ah, but I must rebuke you, Optio,” Sterling replied through a cough, seemingly not caring that the vocal channel was still open. As she spoke, I tapped more gems, until there was a projected display of the rear of the Loyalty, and the Duty behind it, shrinking as we pulled away. Gryphons were swarming the doomed and visibly listing escort, even as some that had been pursuing us turned back, unable to keep up with our engines. The gryphons were determined to claim at least one prize this day, even as Sterling’s voice continued. “There are no ponies or gryphons here! Only a series of walking corpses!”

A noise of confusion was quickly overwhelmed by a klaxon, loud even through the distorted communications. “Wha—? What have you—?!” The Optio seemed lost for words as he realized her intent.

Sterling, however, wasn’t. “When you get to Tartarus, tell them Sterling Silver sent you,” she said coolly. “And then apologize on my behalf for the inconvenience!” There was an audible click, and then the channel cut off as, on the display, the Duty was consumed in an explosion of magical energy as the ship’s crystal power core detonated. The ship itself was vaporized from the massive release of magic as were all the gryphons unlucky enough to be near it at the time. We could feel the pressure wave from the explosion rumble through the floor beneath our hooves, shaking the ship.

There were several moments of silence, as all the officers on the bridge bowed their heads out of respect for the lost ship and crew. Then a voice I’d heard only recently spoke up. “Why?” Firefly asked, looking to my eyes more than a little shell-shocked. “Why did she do that?” she continued, the heavily bandaged one-eyed mare next to her seeming no less lost.

“Standard Naval protocol,” I said heavily. “By Naval General Order Number Five, if a ship is in danger of imminent capture by enemy forces, the commanding officer is to destroy it, even if nopony has managed to evacuate yet. That’s been the dominant rule since Luna’s time.”

“But—” Firefly couldn’t seem to accept the rationale, so I continued.

“The Royal Navy has long been the testing ground for new military technology, Master Sergeant. Anything that the rest of the military uses, it likely went through us first. As such, our airships have advances that the rest of the military doesn’t.

“If the Duty had been captured by the enemy, the gryphons could have analyzed and formed countermeasures to our new communications gear and weapons,” I explained. “We couldn’t allow that. Sterling Silver knew the risks when she took command, remote as they seemed at the time. We all did.” I placed a hoof on the other mare’s neck. “'Tis a heavy loss. But we cannot flinch from it. We cannot let every casualty get to us, Commander. If we do, we’d break down completely, and never recover. Now let us see to it that we do not join them, and that their sacrifice was not in vain!”

“There aren’t any great men. There are just great challenges that ordinary men like you and me are forced by circumstances to meet.”

Author's Notes:

I wish it known that this chapter was--without any shadow of a doubt--the most difficult, time-consuming, and complex battle sequence I’ve ever attempted, even without the presence of graphics (which would be very repetitive here and not show much). For all the different characters and elements I had to juggle and still come up with a coherent whole, its completion was a triumph, and I believe I pulled it off!

---

New work by AJ_Aficionado:

One of the reasons I wanted to launch when I did was to help support the release of a AJ_Aficionado’s new story. He has a new FoE fic out, M-rated, but only really at the end; it centers on the lives of the Alicorn drones post-railcar, as it were. Their struggles to find a new way, place and purpose. It’s very imaginative and very well-written; it even has the stamp of approval from some notable FoE authors and artists, including Meep and Grypher.

Fallout Equestria: The Angels of Oasis

Look at it this way: I don’t generally go for FoE, and I enjoyed it. It’s got a clop scene, but it’s far more than that; much of it is given over to some very clever and imaginative worldbuilding and character development in the FoE universe. I edited it and can heartily recommend it.

Give it a read. It’s a difficult genre to write in, but he really made it work.

---

Thanks go to him and all my other prereaders, including Leo Archon, who also contributed the bulk of the closing section, Denim_Blue, who successfully expanded on the Shady battle scene to showcase her abilities a lot better, and Silentwoodfire, who contributed his usual corrections and just received a free copy of my anthro novel as a thank-you. I will be going off of Firefly for a bit to concentrate on other things now, as you’ll understand if I really do need a break from it after how intense/how much work these last few chapters have been. Thank you for reading and following! Don’t worry, the story will continue in due course, and guest authors are being lined up.

Part 18 - Answers

Dear readers:

The particularly observant and astute might have noted that there was one name missing from the roster of those here for Father’s surgery, and her absence from these accounts was no mere oversight.

My beloved sister Wind Whistler was not present for her father’s procedure because she was on a very special assignment whose objective only came to fruition this day, during the duel between the Loyalty and Arnau. Her strategic mind was needed to thwart an assassination and coup attempt by Imperial remnants against the Queen, and to that end, she worked with both the EIS and Ravens to gather intelligence and lay a trap for the ringleaders, of which a willing Queen Jeyenne herself was the bait.

So before we resume the story of the war, let me detail what I can of these events.

The carefully constructed plot was to culminate during the duel, when the Loyalty would be seized by a cadre of carefully trained and selected pony-disguised infiltrators, who would then turn her guns on the watching Queen and her party, killing the bulk of her line and senior officials. If possible, they also wished to slay me and Ambassador Kaval as well—myself for simple vengeance but the Ambassador to ensure that he could not rally the Kingdom afterwards and allow a coup to go forward, one that would install a new Emperor in the new Gryphon capital of Arnau and declare the Gryphon Empire reborn.

The Arnau would then engage the Loyalty and die heroically trying to avenge the treachery that had taken their ruler, thus becoming a rallying cry for the new regime. Even if Celestia personally intervened and apologized afterwards, that the Queen had died under her care and at the hooves of the ponies would be taken as a grievous betrayal and a renewed call for war might have resulted.

‘Twas an ambitious plan involving several dozen plotters including some major figures in the Kingdom’s government and military, as well as several hundred carefully recruited underlings, including dozens of unwitting gryphons and ponies turned against their hearts and duty by the use of more advanced mind control gems the now-disbanded Office of Owls had been working on at the end of the war.

‘Twas a cunning plan, and for it, an equally cunning counterintelligence operation was needed. And as she alone among the two sides had successfully commanded both pony and gryphon forces during the joint campaign against Dragon Lord Diabla, there was none more qualified for such a task than my sister.

To that end, Tailwind’s surgery was part real, part ruse, meant to coincide with the Queen’s visit and make it look like our attention was elsewhere. Tailwind himself approved of the plan, though he requested his memory be wiped of all knowledge of the plot afterwards so he could not give it away in case the plotters captured him while he lay helpless in bed.

There was no need, thankfully, as when the plot was triggered, so was my sister’s carefully constructed trap. Their cannons failed to fire and their mind-controlled agents were set free by a special spell that disabled the crystals and their effects, leaving them aware of their instructions and who had sent them but no longer compelled to obey them, allowing us to identify and arrest the mages who had kept them on their leashes and from there, unravel the rest of their network.

Undercover PSD agents and pony-disguised Ravens that had been lying in wait then swarmed the bridge and engineering, taking down all targets with few casualties on either side—which methinks ‘twas always a hallmark of my sister’s work whilst on the ground, the Lances and Ravens likewise stormed a series of safehouses throughout Equestria and the Kingdom and captured the ringleaders, who were coordinating their efforts from afar. Those captured were then brought before the Queen, where one final fanatic attempted to detonate a crystal bomb on his body, only to find it had been rendered inert.

Thwarted, he then drew a blade and charged her through the air, only to meet an immovable wall in the form of Ambassador Kaval. My old foe defeated him with contemptuous ease, batting his blows aside with no effort and then taking him down with a single strike. He could have easily slain him, but he, like me, has had enough of killing and will no longer do so unless absolutely necessary. Instead, the final assassin was thrown before the Queen along with his compatriots, who, instead of ordering him slain on the spot, directed that he and his fellow plotters stand trial in the Kingdom.

‘Twas only then, with her task complete and the Queen safe, that my sister finally was able to visit Father, and the last I saw of her before closing the door to give them privacy was to witness her holding his hoof and crying.

In truth, Methinks my explanation of all this does not do it justice, for the careful planning and coordination all this required. ‘Twas a superb operation to unravel the plot, but I regret that I simply cannot detail it beyond its bare outlines, which is all that is now public. In its place, ‘tis time to renew the retelling of the war, picking up with the aftermath of our escape from Outpost Epsilon.

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Northern New Yoke Province
350 miles south-southwest of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1620 hours

Our departure from Epsilon did not mean we were out of danger.

Though we quickly outpaced the initial pursuit, my heart dropped when I was informed that due to the circuitous route they had taken getting here, we could not sustain the pace for more than an hour, at which point the main engine crystal would run out of energy. It could be slowly recharged without additional fuel using unicorn magic, but their numbers were few and their power was spent; what little they could spare was nowhere near enough to get us out of danger quickly.

With the air wing and my remaining effectives under the command of Fell Flight—I had barely a single platoon of forty still fightworthy with the rest wounded or too exhausted to continue—running relays to keep the ship moving via wind into the sails, we were trying to stay ahead of gryphon pursuit even though the best we could manage was an agonizing fourth of our previous escape speed.

The Airship’s chief engineer, a rather portly but burly Shetland pony named Flash Fix with the accent to match, had been able to coax a little more velocity by rerouting the final dregs of their main armament crystal to the engines, gaining us another thirty miles but disabling the airship’s best guns. Still more power was squeezed from the smaller crystals that powered the lightboats, granting us twenty miles more but at the cost of rendering them useless for escapes.

‘Twas touch and go as gryphon centuries appeared repeatedly and had to be held off, but they were not able to bring the Loyalty or the Vigil down as they lacked the numbers and mages to storm us, perchance because of the losses they suffered at Epsilon.

Still, ‘twas tense and dangerous for a while as they attempted alternately to damage the sails or suspension cables, and ‘twas not until around 1300 hours when we had gained about two hundred miles from the border that friendly Corps forces appeared to chase off the pursuit and escort us the rest of the way. Fortunately, that escort included naval transports filled with Army unicorns dispatched from the city of Maresk and its attached Army base, Fort Ironheart, to power the engines up at least partially and get us back to Royal Navy base Ursa on the Lunar Sea.

Methinks I was mildly amazed that they knew to expect us and roughly where to look for us, but ‘twould seem that Admiral Coral Torch had arranged it all despite her ire at Captain Shady, having the foresight to guess such assistance would be needed.

Finally safe and under friendly air cover, I stared out the window of the airship’s bridge, mind awhirl. Before now, I’d been focused on taking down as many gryphons as possible before dying, then about getting everypony on board the Loyalty. Now that the danger had passed, though, ‘twas time to see to my remaining soldiers. And exhausted though I was, I would not rest until I had found each and every one of them.

No longer needing to remain on alert, we were finally able to, if not relax, at least lick our wounds. As I walked among the Epsilon survivors—and I of course made sure to thank the Naval healers profusely for their efforts to save my soldiers—I found myself lingering on two individuals. I found Stormrunner in a borrowed cot, stripped of his armor with a mended spear wound and a heavily bandaged head through which blood was still leaking, staining the white fabric red.

To my surprise, he was awake and alert, his good left eye turning on me and propping himself up to offer a shaky salute along with Blindside, who I found chatting with him.

“At ease,” I told the pair as I beheld him. “How fare you, Master Sergeant? Will that... scratch... keep you from further action?” I admit I didn’t quite know what else to say.

“Not a chance. ’Tis but an eye, ma’am,” he answered easily, though I noted he turned his head instead of moving his good eye to look at me. “In their great wisdom, the Sun and Moon Goddesses saw fit to grant me a spare. And the good Sergeant here has been discussing with me how she overcame her lack of a working one. ‘Tis my hope I can yet match her feat and return to active duty quickly.”

“‘Twas not easy or instant for me. But perchance with my guidance, it could be accomplished quicker. I’d be more than willing to train you, Master Sergeant,” Blindside offered, but then went downcast, looking at her own wounds and barely mobile wing. “Particularly since ‘twould seem I am out of action myself for some time.”

“You fought well, Sergeant,” I told her, and meant it. She’d sustained a broken rib in the final battle, and ‘twould be at least a few days before she could fly again thanks to the wing damage she’d taken in the superstorm fight. But even grounded and wounded, she had not flinched from further action, and had notched the only other hit on the Ravens we scored during the initial breach of the vault doors; I’d only learned from Gavian that she had defended me along with him when I fell to the Magus bolt, fearlessly engaging a Raven who tried to slay me. “And I heard from my son what you did for me. Thank you.” I bowed my head to her.

Her cheeks warmed. “‘Tis but some small payback for saving my life during the Raider attack last December and again last night, ma’am. But ‘tis not why I did it.” She did not elaborate, but nor did she need to.

I felt my own cheeks warm in turn. “You need not say more, Sergeant. But for now, I would like to speak with Stormrunner alone, if I may. In the meantime, you should rest. We are out of danger now, so please see to your own needs. Find a cot or cloud in the Air Wing quarters and sleep—they have made several dozen ‘racks’, as they call them, available to us.

“Or if you are hungry, it may interest you to know that the airship’s mess hall—or excuse me, ‘galley’ in Naval parlance—has some surprisingly good Cloud Creole, and ‘twould seem the ship’s chief engineer has brewed some excellent liquor.” I couldn’t help but grin at the remembered taste, though I had abstained beyond a single sip for now. “He has promised all of us a full keg of it upon our return.”

“But ma’am—” Blindside started to protest only for the loud rumble of her stomach to make itself heard, to the laughter of me and Stormrunner. She then relented, with the promise she would return later.

“Methinks she’s quite devoted to you, Commander,” Stormrunner noted idly when she was out of sight; I wasn’t sure if I imagined a coy note in his voice. “And I admit I was touched by her attention as well. I do not actually know how quickly or even if I can gain her enhanced senses and ability to navigate her surroundings without depth perception, but I refuse to let such a minor injury keep me from my duty to defend Equestria.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his statement. He was clearly in pain, but bearing it well. “’Twas an incredibly brave thing you did, Master Sergeant,” I admitted, though I couldn’t resist a dig. “Utterly stupid, mind you, but still incredibly brave.”

“I regret nothing, ma’am,” he told me, even offering up a grin before his expression dropped. “Save that I was unable to slay that insulting Centurion and forced your son to save me.”

I admit I felt a moment of ire at him over Gavian, but it quickly receded. “Methinks I should be angry at you for endangering him and our escape, except for how well it worked out and my son’s incredible display.” And ‘twas the truth; I’d been amazed by what I saw of his battle with Nael.

Word of Gavian’s victory and public oath of loyalty to Equestria had spread quickly amongst the Loyalty crew, courtesy of the returned Naval Air Wing, half of whom had witnessed the duel. Though initially wary of him, the tale of his battle feat as well as receiving a huge hug from Father in front of the crew had quickly silenced any potential neighsaying about him, though I still insisted he have protection at all times.

“And what of Gavian? I passed out before I could see his battle. Is he all right? Is he safe?” Stormrunner asked.

“He is now,” I confirmed. “‘Tis a shame you didst not see it, for he fought magnificently, Master Sergeant. He proved himself a warrior, and for it, methinks I have never seen him so proud. He’s now sleeping in his own quarters with sentries present and his own private bodyguard. Given what they’ve heard of his duel, methinks the crew of the Loyalty will not harm him, but nor am I willing to take the chance.”

“A bodyguard? Who?” Stormrunner wanted to know, well aware that all of Gavian’s usual guardians—Swift Strike and the Celestial Guardsponies—were down.

“Well… funny story,” I said with a hoof behind my head, and began to explain that with Swift Strike exhausted and being treated for his own injuries—aside from the crystal fragments he’d taken, he’d also been dealt damage by the Ravens, who had scored at least two hits on him to none in return to the Sky Sergeant’s great embarrassment—the job of protecting Gavian now fell to an EIS operative I hadn’t even known was present amongst my soldiers.

‘Twas only when I was asking for volunteers to stay with Gavian and guard him as he slept that Private Mammatus presented herself and announced to me apologetically that she was in fact an undercover member of the PSD, assigned to watch Gavian both as an extra layer of protection and in case he proved to be some form of sleeper agent.

‘Twas certainly a surprise, as she’d been among the lower-rated combatants I’d had, but she had then fought far above her weight during the battles, slaying many whilst surviving each and every encounter we had.

Overhearing that, a wounded but still-lethal Swift Strike was on her instantly, leaping up from his treatment to put a wingblade at her throat. As if expecting it, she did not so much as flinch as he then challenged her with a short verbal phrase whispered in her left ear: “Eclipse.”

To which she paused for but a moment before replying: “Occlusion.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his blade and told me she could be trusted. “‘Twas a recognition code between the Lances and supporting EIS agents,” he explained at my questioning look. “Don’t bother trying to remember it, as the proper countersign depends on several factors. And before you ask, no, I was not aware of her,” he said as he returned to his treatment. “Methinks her presence is hardly surprising, though. Daggermind does like to ensure both assets and potential threats are covered from multiple angles,” he mused, referring to the diminutive head of the Equestrian Intelligence Service, a stallion who had the appearance of a foal but the mind of a master spy.

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” Stormrunner agreed as I finished the tale, nodding slowly with a mild wince of pain, unable to quite suppress a grimace at the movement of his injured head. “He is safe, then. Remind me to tell you one day of the time I tried to impress a PSD pegasus mare as a brand-new Guardspony. When she took exception to my efforts, I ended up thrown through a table, finding myself flat on my back with a blade at my throat.” He reached up to rub his good eye with an undamaged hoof. “I was humbled then. And I find myself humbled now.” His mood abruptly dropped.

My expression softened in turn. “Be assured, Master Sergeant, that you are far from the only one to be painfully humbled in their life,” I told him, recalling how I’d been badly beaten by Windshear the first time I challenged him in basic, suddenly remembering then the odd vision I’d had of him when I lay paralyzed on the dusty cavern floor.

I had a sickening feeling I knew what that vision meant, but stuffed that fear as deeply down as I could. I’d sustained enough painful losses that day; methinks I did not wish my beloved mentor’s name to be added to that lengthening list of dead. “I know not if Blindside can help you, but I do want you back. As long as you’re willing to obey orders and not resort to honor duels in the middle of an evacuation, that is. It worked this time, but methinks ‘twill not again,” I said with equal parts amusement and admonishment.

“I do not regret the duel; merely my conduct of it,” he told me, fatigue starting to show on his face again. “I allowed my emotions to get the best of me and played right into his hooves—or talons. And for it, I pay a heavy price,” he admitted. “I give you my word that I will be back, Commander, once I am battleworthy again.”

“I will hold you to that,” I told him, placing my hoof briefly over his. “In the meantime, rest.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he told me, and I stayed with him until he had fallen asleep.

With Stormrunner attended, ‘twas time to find the other individual of interest to me, who I had not seen in some time and was starting to worry about again—Sky Sentry.

Asking around, I finally found him on the airship’s topmost observation deck, the heavy wooden planks scorched by lightning from the ballonet defenses and not fully cleaned up, with a fried feather or bloodstains from slain gryphons here and there. “Sergeant?” I called to him as I ascended the stairs and spotted him, but he did not turn to me or immediately reply, still staring back in the direction we had come. “Have you eaten? Have you slept?” I tried again as I got closer. “Tis not healthy to brood.”

Instead of answering me, he posed a single, forlorn question. “Ma’am…? How am I here?” he asked me earnestly. “How are any of us here?”

I hesitated before answering, suddenly wondering if he was suffering some form of battle shock that caused him to lose his memory. “Because the Loyalty saved us,” I reminded him, only to watch him sharply shake his head.

“You don’t understand,” he told me. “I mean, I shouldn’t be here. I should have died with the rest of my battalion. With the mares I tried and failed to lead away,” he explained, starting to tear up again. “I remember each and every one of them. Their faces; their voices.” He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes taking on a haunted look, “The soldiers I led to their deaths.”

‘Twa only then I understood what he was saying. “Sergeant, stop,” I ordered him firmly, stepping in front of him and forcing him to look at me. “We’ve been over this already. There was nothing you could do and no way you could win. You are suffering from survivor’s guilt—believe me, I know what that feels like,” I told him, recalling my own after my first combat engagement had cost me sixteen soldiers so many months earlier.

“Mourn them and remember them; honor and respect them. But seek not to join them. Dead, you cannot save or avenge them. But alive, you can fight in their name and help all Equestria in the process,” I told him, even as I had my own doubts, looking back on my battalion’s heavy losses.

By actual count, only one hundred three souls were left out of the battalion that had once numbered two hundred twenty, and of those, scores were injured, many critically. After rest and the most rudimentary of medical treatment, I had but eighty potential effectives left with the remainder either being non-pegasi or too badly wounded for further action. That was how many ponies had escaped Epsilon with their lives. More than half of my command had gone ahead to the Summerlands… and unfortunately, ‘twas certain we would never get the chance to retrieve the primary feathers of most of them.

I was presenting a brave front, but in truth, ‘twas merely an illusion. For ‘twas certain I bore my own scars at that point; a part of me wanted to simply break down crying as Sky Sentry had whilst another wanted to lash out and slaughter as many gryphons as I could, seeking recompense for the unjust invasion and the lives they had taken. And yet, despite these and other emotions whirling through my head, the primary thing I felt was… loss.

‘Twas far from the first time ponies had died under my command, but these were but the first shots of the war, and I’d already lost half of those who’d entrusted their lives to me with the survival of the remainder only gained by happenstance and an unlikely rescue I could never repay. But here we were, and now the question before me was: What could I do to prevent it from happening again…?

“Mayhap it is survivor’s guilt,” Sky Sentry conceded after a long pause. “But I still bear it, Master Sergeant. And for it, I fear I cannot fight.”

“You fought well enough back there,” I reminded him.

“Only because I thought by doing so, I would hasten my end and be able to fly forth to the Summerlands to join my lost mares and comrades,” he choked out. “My spirit is broken, ma’am. I may be here in body, but in truth, I am but a ghost now. For the pony I was died back there… with all of them.”

Final Fantasy XIV: Answers

I admit I knew not what to say to that, but then, for the second time in the space of a day, I felt the now-familiar tug of Harmony on my very spirit. ‘Twas then as I looked out with him to the east and draped my wing over him, that he began to sing, giving voice to his sorrow.

As he sang, I am told that all conversation throughout the ship ceased and eyes turned upwards towards the source of the song, hearts joined in shared grief and Harmony.

Greetings once again to all my little ponies. My role in this chapter will be brief but ‘twas unavoidable, for ‘twas not just those on the ship who heard his mournful song. Methinks that no matter how many times I have felt Harmony’s touch over my many years, I am still amazed by its ability to make us its voice; remind us all of its presence and purpose. Such it was here, and just when our reeling nation needed it most.

Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1715 hours

Far away from Battle Group Capricorn, I stood on the east-facing balcony from which I normally enjoyed the rising sun. With the smoke from the Kalator clan covering the sky, however, the view was spoiled for me.

I sighed, and I admit to a moment of weakness, wondering if it might yet be worth surrendering myself to the gryphons simply to spare Canterlot and all my little ponies the dragons’ wrath. Then I heard the strains of Harmony, echoing to me from a great distance. The lyrics sounded clearly in my head, and when they were completed and I understood the singer’s anguish, I then felt it pull on me to sing—to answer his plaintive cry.

As my voice rang out, I felt Harmony reaching out to other places; to far away and missing Cloudsdale, its survivors picking through the ruins.

To Fort Spur, the base and town working together to see what might be recovered.

Everywhere Harmony touched, I felt the ponies—my little ponies—stop what they were doing, listening to my voice.

EAS Loyalty
Upper Observation Deck
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1716 hours

I felt more than heard the words the Princess sung; the joined song in not just my heart, but my very soul. ‘Twas the call of Harmony; the call of Friendship and Unity. I knew not how I understood it was now my turn to sing, but I did so fervently:

Tears rolled down Sky Sentry’s face as he heard the words, and then the entire ship crew joined in, providing a choral backdrop to my voice.

Then it was my turn again and this time, I stood in front of him and put my hoof on his chest, letting him see the emotion; the shared grief in my eyes:

Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1716 hours

‘Twas then my turn to pick up the song again:

EAS Loyalty
Upper Observation Deck
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1717 hours

The chorus sounded again, this time joined by what sounded like all Equestria. And when it was complete, the final lines in the harmony-fueled song were mine, the lyrics giving voice to all my innermost thoughts and feelings I knew not how to say before:

I hugged him hard as I voiced those final words, and he broke down, sobbing, one final time, having his forlorn question answered in a way that could not be denied. I held him close for a minute, letting him cry himself out, then left him alone at his request, so he could yet reach the resolution he needed to.

When he appeared again the next day, I would not say his mind or spirit was fully healed, but he did find the strength to fight again, vowing to do so in the name of his former comrades at my side.

Well-said—and well-sung!—as always, Captain.

On the gryphon side, we used to mock the pony propensity for breaking out into spontaneous song, and thought that as strong warriors and the superior species, we were beyond the need for such things. We would find out later how spurious that belief truly was; I was never so surprised as when it finally happened to me!

Before I begin the next section, I have a few observations to make. Methinks I would first like to compliment your husband: having engaged him in mortal combat during the war and some friendlier spars afterwards, I know firstwing that he is a fine stallion and warrior, and my cubs have learned much from his combat academy. The essence of a warrior, I think you will agree, is not that you are never beaten, but that you pull yourself back up and learn from it, becoming an even greater fighter for it. ‘Tis certain that in the end, he did.

The second item regards your sister. For reprising her joint commander role from the Dragon Lord Diabla conflict and thwarting that whole sordid and shameful attempt to overthrow the new order, Wind Whistler has the thanks of the entire Gryphon nation—save, perchance, the plotters, who methinks would have been less likely to restore the Empire than cause a short but bloody civil war that would have ended with Arnau in ruin and a weakened Kingdom without its Royal Line, leaving it potential prey for the Ibixian Supremacy to the east.

Neither I nor any but the most zealous of former Imperials have any wish for further war. After a century of nearly continuous conflict, most gryphons are happy to enjoy a time of peace; to rediscover our lost arts and culture that was slowly forgotten, subsumed by the Empire’s all-consuming militarism—an awakening process your son has definitely played a role in. Looking back on our recent history, ‘twould seem that the Empire’s ultimate flaw was that it could not survive without constant conquest. A lesson ‘twould seem the plotters failed to heed.

The request is to be made formally, but methinks I will make it here as well: I know your sister wishes to remain with her father now, but My Queen requests her presence before she returns to the Kingdom so she may recognize Wind Whistler properly. She is even willing to visit her at the hospital to do so.

I will present the offer to my sister later, but I know her well enough to guess she will be suitably honored but request a private visit rather than a public ceremony, as ‘tis never been her way to seek fame or fortune. But within those conditions, methinks it safe to say the Queen can be accommodated, Ambassador. Methinks the Admiral might wish to see her as well.

So noted, Captain. I wish to also offer my congratulations for completing the tale of the first day of the conflict, detailing superbly the arrival of the Royal Navy and subsequent Escape from Epsilon. ‘Twas a daring rescue worthy of song, though methinks Prelate Gaius and certainly myself were less than happy at its outcomes.

From the gryphon side, the first day of war had concluded generally satisfactorily given the agonizingly short notice on which we had launched offensive operations.

Looking at the map, most of the Equestrian border bases and forces were destroyed and the door to Equestria thrown open, with Outpost Epsilon evacuated and resistance at Omega along with its nearby Army bases finally ended, leaving all but the millennium-sized garrison at Gamma under our wings. ‘Twas true that we had not generally reached our first day objective line, but that had been drawn assuming we were attacking with the intended thirty legions instead of sixteen.

All was not well, however. Casualties had been unacceptably heavy among our attacking forces, especially in the north. The reports from the 16^th Talon Legion were particularly grim, having lost nearly half of their force by the time the two airships escaped with the rescued Epsilon garrison aboard.

I was shocked by the news of the Royal Navy’s appearance, and though he hid it well, I have no doubt the Prelate was just as surprised. On the one wing, such an unlikely operation made no sense, as he observed—methinks quite correctly—that a single half-strength Corps battalion was not worth risking three sorely needed airships and their crews.

Yet they’d done it anyway. Worse, given we’d crippled or destroyed every Naval base except one, the only possible location it could have come from was Stalliongrad, on the other side of Equestria and left off the initial target list because it was too far for our forces to fly in daylight.

Owl-controlled ponies in Canterlot—not all of our mind-control victims were assassins; some were merely there to pass intelligence—further reported that the ships had acted without orders, which was even more unthinkable to us. For to do so was a capital offense in the Imperial military, but ‘twould certainly explain why we had no warning of their departure or destination.

Whilst the northern advance would have to await reinforcement before it could press further, and the central front was likewise delayed by the need to reserve nearly an entire legion to the task of keeping Gamma pinned, the southern sector was a different story. ‘Twas certain we had made the biggest inroads in the south, perchance because ‘twas closest to our supply base at Cirrus Cassida, or perchance because of the quality of the commander.

The rapid advance of the 7^th Talon legion had caused much consternation at headquarters. It had quickly captured Fillydelphia and Baltimare on the wingbeats of the dawn raider attacks on the two cities, but then their lead cohorts had passed out of communication range, falling silent and leading to some fear that they had been cut off and destroyed by reinforcing Corps forces sweeping in from the south, on alert and eager for vengeance after the raid on Fort Spur.

Thankfully, ‘twas not the case as the legion commander, Legate Romelus, had simply swept all before her. She had not only taken all her first-day objectives but her first week ones as well, seizing Antlerapolis before pushing all the way to Fort Feathertop at Mareassas—whose Corps battalion she destroyed—near the foot of the Applelachian mountains that marked the border of the bat-pony lands, which all Imperial forces were under strict orders not to enter—yet. Methinks I will refrain from telling that part of the story for now, however.

‘Tis worth noting that the raider groups we used in the initial assault had accomplished their goals a little too well, as several escaping ships had been sunk in the harbor, blocking its use by our transports until they could be cleared. They had also exceeded their instructions in their assault on the Pony Navy’s Orion base in Baltimare, destroying the airships but also having all but slaughtered the ill-trained troops there.

Though the battle group and its crews were annihilated, the brutal attack and refusal to take prisoners by the Aqua and Magma raider groups had provoked strong resistance amongst the pony populace, preventing us from consolidating our control quickly.

The exceeding of orders there would be dealt with separately, however, as contact with our lost legion was reestablished late that night and ‘twas the north that held the Prelate’s attention as the sun dawned the following morning. Leaving his headquarters staff to deal with the remains of the pony raid and reestablish their operations further back from the border, he had insisted on being taken into the north to see the disaster that had befallen our forces there firstwing. I, in turn, had insisted on accompanying him, flying alongside his air carriage as his earth gryphon wings simply could not take him the distance.

Leaving after sunrise, we arrived not long after noon to see the scars of battle and fallen soldiers everywhere, of which far too many were gryphons. There was a large scour scar in the desert floor cut directly across the northern half of the ruined base, leading into the deep river gorge; its trace clearly marked by a collapsed canyon wall—the trail of the tornado that the Epsilon garrison had generated to ambush our forces as they retreated to their redoubt.

All of which we were already aware of, but which the commander of the 16th Talon legion tried to recount, to the Prelate’s great annoyance.

“I have read the reports and am fully aware of the facts, Legate Galea,” Salvio Gaius cut him off sharply, “and ‘tis certain I do not need them regurgitated for me. What I need now is an explanation as to why the attack on the base was not immediately halted when the storm was sighted. As to why our forces were sent in despite the obvious danger to be slaughtered beneath it. As to why you waited for such an arbitrary time as midnight instead of demanding an immediate surrender and then attacking at once upon refusal. As to how you allowed three ancient airships to successfully ambush your legion...” His voice was generally calm but icy cold as he then leaned in close to let the Legate see his ire.

“And when all that is done, perchance you might also explain as to why a single duel was allowed to delay our assault on their escaping forces?” he all but growled out the words.

The Legate visibly swallowed but answered. “On my honor, my lord, Tribune Rialta attempted to abort the attack—I heard her desperate efforts to do so over the scrying network! But the storm blocked our communications and then her entire command group was ambushed and lost—“

“And the reason she was commanding this attack instead of you, when you yourself had already reported she was having trouble coordinating your forces?” The Prelate drummed his talons on the wooden desk he sat at; ‘tis worth noting we were having our meeting in the ruins of the Equestrian base, inside the remains of the commander’s stateroom, which seemed to be less a military headquarters than an art studio.

The Legate chose his next words carefully, perchance knowing he was being indirectly accused of cowardice and dereliction of duty. “Because the plan was hers and I was attempting to manage our front. Because she insisted upon the chance to atone for her earlier errors and what I was told was a poor performance at the parley.”

“I see. And your opinion of her plan, Tribune?” he called back to me.

I had expected the question and already had an answer prepared. “In fairness, ‘twas not a bad plan at first glance, my lord,” I admitted, having reviewed several order scrolls Rialta had earlier issued. “Its main error was not one of design, but timing. Mayhap it might have worked but for the foolish decision to wait and grant the ponies the time they needed to prepare their superstorm; once surrender was refused, the operation should have been launched immediately. But even their storm would not have availed them had we simply waited it out. There was nowhere they could go.”

“I concur. And that begs the question: why did you rush the attack?” the Prelate asked next.

“Because, my lord... their efforts were forcing us to concentrate too large a percentage of my legion against them and I promised you this sector would be ours by daybreak! And—” methinks he saw the problem with his own explanation too late.

“And even were that some form of actual deadline—which it was not—there was no reason you could not have waited a couple hours for the storm to clear once it was sighted,” Gaius instantly pointed out.

“And how, exactly, did you not see it when it was being made?” Primarch Livia Cassius Junus, who had insisted on joining the Prelate in her continuing role as an observer, spoke up. “Methinks that the presence of a growing thunderhead in an otherwise dry desert might be just slightly obvious.”

“For once, she has a good point, Legate,” the Prelate noted, though I could tell the admission pained him. “Perchance you could explain how was it not spotted and reported?”

Despite his efforts at control, Galea was starting to visibly squirm. “They hid their efforts under a deep deck of fog, sir. And…” he trailed off, perchance recognizing again that his explanation was not going to suffice.

“And what?” I knew from long experience Gaius was starting to lose patience, for if there was anything he hated, ‘twas vacillation brought upon by an underling trying to evade admission of guilt or failure.

“And was that fog bank fifty thousand feet high?” I couldn’t resist asking, my tone dry. “By the Empress, we could see that storm all the way from Raptor Base!”

The Legate was now getting visibly flustered. “Please understand that ‘twas the result of Rialta’s plan, my lord. She kept all her assault forces at low altitude, hidden in the fog so the ponies would not know from which direction they would come, and then ordered them to observe a communications blackout until the attack went in…” he cringed to admit, perchance only then realizing how bad it sounded.

“And thus, my soldiers were unaware the storm was there until they were under it! I am told my Talons all but begged the Knights to turn back, but they would not do so, having received no orders—even though the Tribune was desperately trying to send them.”

What followed was a rare show of temper as the Prelate’s drumming talons suddenly clenched and dug deep furrows into the desk with a loud and painful sound.

It was several seconds before he spoke again. “Get out of my sight, Legate,” he ordered in a deceptively calm voice. “Methinks ‘twould be best if I decide your fate later, when I am in a less murderous mood.”

With that, the suddenly but sorely-endangered legion commander bared his throat hard and departed, trying not to appear too nervous or hasty as he withdrew.

“You have now heard the Legate’s accounting of events. Your opinion, Tribune?” the Prelate asked me again after another minute had passed and he had regained some measure of control.

I understood well where his anger was coming from, having cataloged a long litany of errors from the Legate’s description of events myself. “I believe I must now take back what I said, my lord,” I admitted in great disgust. “From not having eyes in the sky to failing to create contingencies to observing a communication blackout that was pointless given the circumstances, that plan had holes wide enough to drive an entire pony airship through. Which they eventually did.”

“So what are you going to do about it, Prelate?” The Primarch smirked. “Never mind the superstorm, I seem to recall asking you about the pony navy, and you dismissed it as a bunch of ‘antiquated relics’ that would be of no consequence or concern. So ‘twould seem that you were wrong yet again this day! And yet again, our forces suffered severely for it!”

“We targeted their navy and destroyed at least six of their twelve airships on the first day of war, Primarch!” he bit back. “We hit what we could reach! And the possibility of the one base we didn’t target launching such an audacious operation without orders from so far away could hardly have been considered likely!”

“Oh? And here I thought you were a master strategist who could foresee all!” she mocked him, and, by the renewed curling of his talons and sharp lashing of his tail, for a moment I thought the Prelate was going to challenge her to a duel right then and there.

To his credit, however, he swallowed his pride and his temper, knowing the Empress would look none too kindly on him slaying her designated observer. ‘Twas certain he also knew that should he carry the campaign to a successful conclusion as he had so many times in the past, he would then fully gain the Empress’ favor and could do whatever he wanted to with the Primarch of the Paladins.

Exhaling slowly from his beak and closing his eyes, he spoke once more, calmer in tone than before. “I will order our own navy to cut its shakedown cruises short and proceed immediately across the Eagle Ocean to our aid,” he promised, referring to what Ponies called the Antlertic Ocean.

“Regardless, their tactic is exposed, as is the fact that they have one dangerous battle group in action. ‘Twill not be enough, and we will develop tactics to counter them should they appear again. In the meantime, our investigation here continues. I wish to know more about the cavern battle, so let us visit it and call in the Raven commander to meet us next.”

As I read this account now, it strikes me that the Prelate was in fact operating with a handicap in the form of Primarch Livia Cassius Junus, whose purpose, near as I can tell, seemed to be less to observe him than to torment him. I know not their history, but had this occurred in the pony military at the time, a death duel would certainly have resulted, and I find myself mildly amazed that Salvio Gaius did not rise to such provocations as she issued.

‘Twas not that he did not wish to, Captain, and had he thought she was impeding his efforts or the progress of the campaign—which merely insulting him did not rise to the level of—I have no doubt he would have dueled and slain her regardless of the Empress’ favor.

Perchance he also let it go because he knew on some level that she was, in fact, correct—that he should have at least ordered a watch set on the one unraided Royal Navy base lest their ships tried to sortie. As it stood, they took the 16th Talon Legion completely by surprise, and much as he may have wished to, the Prelate knew that ultimately could not be blamed on Legate Galea.

Fifteen minutes later found us picking through the rubble of the cavern battle, where we saw soldiers dragging dead gryphon and pony bodies into a pit where they could be burned.

That we were treating the Equestrian dead the same as our own was not a show of honor; ‘twas a precautionary act ages old to ensure that neither our fallen nor that of our enemy could be claimed by an ancient foe called the Cloven of the Sun, and their corpses reanimated against us. But the Cloven had been vanquished long before, and the least we could say of the scene was that the losses there were far more even.

An overturned pony table was set upright as the Prelate then turned his interview efforts from the initial Legion commander to the replacement one, pouring some tea for him. He, like me, expected the interview to be much less infuriating, at least as far as the interview subject went

“At ease, Centurion Tempest Umbra,” he told the Raven tiercel he had summoned, who saluted and bared his throat immediately upon his appearance, passing through his cordon of guards. “Please be seated. And be assured, I do not hold you at fault for this debacle.

“I sent you to reverse this situation, and from all reports, your plan to do so was superbly conceived and executed. You could not have foreseen the Royal Navy’s intervention, let alone it coming from the gryphon side of the border. But I do wish to know from your own beak your account of this action.”

“Yes, my lord.” He sat up straight before the Prelate, accepting the tea, “But I know not what else I can tell you that was not in my report, as what happened was quite simple: all was going well, but then we were undone by the surprise appearance of pony airships and the honor of a single idiotic Knight,” he said in disgust as he took his first drink from the bowl. “The first opened the door to their escape. The second allowed them to pass through it.”

‘Twas a particularly succinct summary of events, I thought, and for it, the Prelate did respect him. “I have read your after-action reports. You say Centurion Nael threatened you if your teams intervened in his duel?”

“Ordered a halt to the attack while the duel proceeded, and then ordered his fellow Knights to slay us if we did anything to disrupt it, yes!” he spat out. “And then when that youngling traitor intervened, he allowed himself to be goaded into dueling him as well; the damned, crow-bitten fool! I begged him to set us loose and order an attack, but he would not!”

The Prelate nodded slowly in understanding—’twas what we had heard from the Knights and multiple Ravens at this point, so we had no reason to doubt that account. “This youngling traitor… I wish to know more. He was a former raider, who are hardly known for their battle prowess. So exactly how was he able to defeat a veteran Fortis Knight in single combat?”

The Raven commander considered the question carefully before answering. “I know not, except to say that his combat style was unique. If I had to compare it to anything, I would say he fought like a Black Lance, my lord,” he mused. “Which mayhap makes sense if he was trained by one—our reports said that he was undergoing blade training with Swift Strike, the garrison’s pet Lance operative.

“I know not how the youngling was trained up to that level in such a short time, but it disgusts me to say that from what I saw of the duel, he was every bit as fast and skilled as us, as he not only survived engagement with two of my number during the initial breach, but he took down the Centurion in superb fashion, goading him into a second duel and then using his superior speed against him. Methinks Nael could barely touch him and in the end, he fell to a slashed throat.”

“You may be assured that I agree Nael was a fool of the first order. But the reason you did not attack the ponies immediately once he fell…?” Gaius challenged.

Umbra’s beak clenched and his eyes narrowed. “Methinks you may ask our Fortis Knight friends the answer to that question,” he grated out. “Be assured, Prelate, that I promptly ordered an attack, but they did not follow, saying that the Centurion’s acceptance of the duel terms stood despite his death and thus, they could not assist us in the effort! My three teams then declined a futile fight against a prepared battle line braced with fresh forces that outnumbered us six to one.”

“Understandable. And the losses to your teams…?” The Prelate began drumming his talons again.

The Raven looked embarrassed. “Two with minor wounds received engaging their resident Black Lance and Guardspony commander. None dead,” he recited, which I couldn’t help but note was a far cry from the reports still slowly trickling in from the attack on Cloudsdale, where the Wind Knight and Raven losses in the operation were being described by the survivors as close to catastrophic.

“Pathetic,” Livia Junus spoke up. “And you are supposed to be the most skilled and deadly assassins in all the Empire? My opinion is that you should have attacked anyway! Slew the traitor and their leadership even at the cost of your lives!”

“I care not for your opinion, Primarch!” The Raven rounded on her. “I am perfectly willing to sacrifice my teams and myself for Empress and Honor, but not in a hopeless attack that gains us nothing! I slew several ponies personally this night, and I did not rise to my station without reason as I have over sixty successful missions and five Black Lance kills to my name!

“So if you think me pathetic, feel free to challenge me! Methinks I will be more than happy to add your overstuffed and empty head to my trophy collection!” he goaded her, completely unintimidated by her large stature, to which she snarled and hefted her war hammer, ready to issue the challenge right then and there.

I had to stifle a smile as the Raven’s words and actions met with my approval, listening as he voiced the sentiments I might have wished to but was unable to. Whatever his own thoughts—I’m sure he would have not minded in the least the chance to be rid of the Primarch and not be blamed for it—the Prelate held up a taloned paw.

“Enough. As much as I might enjoy such a spectacle, we will not descend into duels over a failed operation, particularly one that none present bare blame for. Unfortunately, most of those who do bare blame are already slain.” His expression turned dark.

“Then discipline the legion commander!” Livia demanded. “Show me and the Empress that there is some penalty for failure, Prelate!”

His eyes flickered towards her in annoyance. “So be it. Summon the Legate,” he finally ordered his guards.

A minute later, Galea entered and saluted again, trembling slightly as he awaited his fate.

The prelate returned his salute before speaking, regarding him coldly. “Legate Galea, you have gravely disappointed me and the Empress with the conduct of your command. You should have exercised much greater oversight over the operations against Epsilon than you did, particularly given the shortcomings of your second—shortcomings that you yourself reported,” he recited the damning facts slowly as the soon-to-be-defrocked Legate stood rigid before him.

“The errors in judgment and failures of discipline this day were numerous and inexcusable, and for it, you have held up the northern wing of our advance and lost nearly two and a half millennia of soldiers. These facts are incontrovertible and I am not swayed by your attempts to shift blame to your second when you failed to exercise proper supervision of her operations against Epsilon. So before I pass sentence, have you anything to offer in your defense?”

“No, My Lord.” Methinks he just managed to keep the quaver from his voice. “‘Tis exactly as you say. And for it, what is your decision?”

The Prelate regarded him for a moment before speaking again. “For such grievous and pointless losses as you have sustained, I relieve you of command and leave the 16th Talon legion under the control of Raven Centurion Umbra until a more suitable replacement can be named.

“As for punishment, you are reduced in rank to Centurion and will be given command of a century in place of a legion. If you wish to restore your rank and honor, you can do it leading troops on the front lines where you failed to do so before. That is all I will grant you. And mayhap more than you deserve.”

The now-former Legate saluted once before he was stripped of his rank insignia and several pieces of armor that his lower status meant he was no longer entitled to wear. “I will carry out your orders to the best of my abilities, Prelate,” he promised, clearly struggling to control his emotions. “For Empress and Honor!”

“Disgraceful.” The unimpressed Primarch pronounced upon his departure. “You should have executed him on the spot!”

“To borrow Centurion Umbra’s phrase, I care not what you think, Primarch!” There was an edge to the Prelate’s voice. “Galea was a good soldier and leader once. Perchance he lost sight of what that means and needs only to be reminded of it. For Centurion Nael was right about one thing: the loss of honor can be a very strong motivator to a gryphon warrior.”

“And what of Centurion Nael himself?” I prompted. “Even in death, his offenses cannot be ignored.”

“Agreed.” Prelate Gaius drummed his talons again. “For enabling the escape of the Epsilon garrison and then falling disgracefully to a pony-trained fledgling, dishonor his name and demote his second,” he ordered. “You will then issue the following proclamation to be read throughout the gryphon military: any soldier, whether Knight or Talon, who endangers an operation to fight a duel with opposing soldiers will be stripped of rank and honor, and will then spend the rest of the war in the gem mines—if they are lucky.”

“It will be done,” I bowed, and then took a quick note.

“Good,” he pronounced as we left the tent and headed for his waiting air carriage again. “And I will further order that from here on out, there will be no surrender deadlines. Surrender is to be offered but once before an attack, and if not immediately accepted, the defending force is to be wiped out with no prisoners taken except on explicit orders,” he directed, his eyes narrowed.

“The ponies abused our generosity this past night and it cost us dearly. No more—they will learn that resistance is futile, and if the cost of teaching them that is a few razed bases and villages, then so be it.”

An ominous order indeed, and one methinks I can almost understand given the losses we inflicted on the Talons that first day of war. In truth, I am flattered that the Prelate thought well enough of the Navy to target us so extensively on the first day, for he showed far more respect to us than many ponies did at that point in time.

Fair skies and following winds once again to all readers. ‘Tis Commodore Shady speaking now, and ‘twould seem the final words in the chapter once again belong to me. I admit I did know about the plot against the Queen, and I was present as much for that as to be there for Tailwind.

I sought also to guard him, hoping that my uncanny luck, which, with considerable practice, I’ve managed to turn into a more targeted weapon over the years, could protect him. Regardless, due less to my efforts than certainly that of Wind Whistler, he and the Queen are safe, and the alliance between our two nations is only strengthened for it.

So for the final words of this entry, I would wish to detail what we found upon arrival at Ursa base. Suffice it to say, we sought refuge there from our pursuit, only to find upon arrival that there was none.

Royal Navy Base Ursa
On the northeastern shore of the Lunar Sea
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1830 hours

At half-speed, ‘twas nearly sunset before we reached what we thought was sanctuary at Royal Naval Base Ursa.

Unfortunately, ‘twas soon apparent that it was anything but, as the evidence of a gryphon attack was all around. Half the facilities were lost, with some fires still smoldering. Two airships lay in ruin, smashed into pieces on the ground, and the third, though still intact, was heavily damaged and being quickly stripped of anything useful; as we watched, cannons were taken off an undamaged deck to another ship in the distance.

“That’s odd,” I couldn’t help but note. “That’s the Armistice. They look like they’re not repairing it, but breaking it down.”

“They are,” Ensign Kusema confirmed, having grabbed only a few hours of sleep before returning to her station, her hoof at her ear gem again. “According to the reports I’m hearing, they’re cannibalizing her to make the Yoketown flightworthy again.”

“The Yoketown?” Tailwind asked in disbelief before I could. “But that’s a museum ship! It hasn’t sailed in half a century!”

“‘Twould seem they had no choice, sir, given the Alliance and Entente were total losses along with most of their crews,” Kusema explained, her voice numb, either from the news or from simple fatigue. “The Armistice likewise sustained heavy casualties and damage, though ‘twould seem ‘twas her guns and air wing that finally succeeded in driving off the attack.

“Her engines are dead and ‘tis unlikely they can be repaired before the gryphon advance overruns the base, so they decided to try to bring the undamaged Yoketown back into service instead,” she explained, and as we watched, we saw the old ship’s ballonets being slowly inflated, with some visible leaks being quickly patched from salvaged pieces of fabric.

I shook my head at the news. “Can they even crew her?”

“Using surviving crews from all three ships… yes, if only barely. The Port Admiral, however, requests any crew we can spare for them.”

“Tell him we’ll see what we can do.” The Naval Base commander, Port Admiral Ironclad, had been both shocked and relieved to see us—they had indeed been told of our operation and that we intended to return to Ursa, but he had been certain, and ‘twas hardly without reason, that our foalhardy rescue mission would result in our destruction.

Such was relayed to me by Kusema, who passed messages between us as the Port Admiral had lost his communications office, destroyed along with his headquarters which he had been absent from that morning only by happenstance. He was thus forced to use civilian dragonfire gems to coordinate his remaining forces, which were neither secure nor had the range or networkability of military grade crystals. Until I could receive a paired gem, of which he had none to spare, this meant I could not speak to him directly, forcing Kusema to act as a go-between, as she alone could listen in on civilian communications. “Perchance he could at least tell us what happened here?”

Kusema asked the question, and waited until she had an answer. “The Port Admiral reports they had barely started to mobilize when they were struck by a reinforced Knight cohort not long before noon, and their base was nearly razed, ma’am. They fought off the attack but at enormous cost. Army troops are en route to garrison the facility, but in the meantime, he requests that the Loyalty and Vigil remain on patrol and ready to repel any additional raids. He offers the remnants of the Armistice’s air wing for the purpose as well, but warns ‘tis ‘but a few dozen brave and bloodied souls’ that remain.” She sounded like she was quoting him.

I offered up a silent prayer. “Any reinforcements are welcome, but tell them we need to dock for at least an hour in order to take on supplies and get our wounded off.”

Kusema relayed the message only to grimace. “He says they will give us what they have and can offer us some fuel, but with most of their depots hit, they have little to spare. He further reports their surviving healers are overwhelmed and they have no room for our wounded, ma’am,” she recited grimly. “He therefore requests we keep our wounded aboard and ask in turn if we have any room for theirs.”

I closed my eyes, wondering if the situation could be any more dire. “Not unless we want to lay them out on the upper deck. Check with Copper Coin to see if he has space,” I directed, referring to the Commander of the Vigil, a slightly snobbish unicorn stallion who, like Sterling Silver, had been born to minor nobility. Somewhat to my surprise, he had acquitted himself well that day, carrying out orders crisply, successfully repelling the Talon attack on his ship and even leading the effort personally.

“Aye, ma’am. He also states that they are transferring their more minor wounded to healers in nearby towns. But most of their transports were lost in the raid, so they request the use of our lifeboats in the effort.”

I rubbed my eyes with a hoof, making a mental note to exchange communication crystals as soon as possible—’twas annoying and inefficient to have to go through Ensign Kusema like this. “Tell him our lifeboats are likewise drained of power given we used their crystals to enable our escape. So his choice is: he can either fuel our airships or our lifeboats, but not both.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” If Kusema was annoyed at being used like this, she did not show it as she once again relayed my words. “He suggests splitting the difference—he will partially fuel the Loyalty and a select number of her lifeboats whilst the Vigil can remain docked where her guns can cover his hospital and new headquarters, and she can also be used as a second and sorely needed infirmary.”

I grimaced again, not liking the idea of having no escort and certain Copper Coin would be none too happy at such orders either. But methinks I could not find a better solution, and the Port Admiral was a superior officer anyway. “Very well. Tell him we will pass that along to the Vigil and dock at their convenience.”

Another minute passed before the Port Admiral spoke again. “He requests the Vigil to put down by the infirmary, and the Loyalty to put down over the drill fields, ma’am, a mile ahead on the port side,” Kusema relayed. “As their docks are destroyed, they’ll wheel in supplies using borrowed civilian carts and workers.”

‘Twas certain at that moment I felt the gryphon attack had driven us back to the dark ages for the damage they’d done us. “Orders acknowledged. Mister Sora, take us in. Advise the crew of our instructions, and order all hoofs to stand to and prepare to lower the boarding ramps to take on supplies.”

‘Twas nearly midnight when we took off again and began circling Ursa, with the Corps and Naval pegasi running combat air patrols over the half-ruined base in shifts. And this time, after snagging barely a couple hours rest, Master Sergeant Firefly joined me on the bridge.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she told me at my inquiry. “Methinks I’m tired, and yet, my mind will not rest. I keep expecting some new crisis or attack to roust me and thus, I fear to close my eyes. I wonder if this is the normal state of war?” she pondered aloud almost glumly, to which I ordered up from the galley some of the mint tea that had always quieted my mind and helped me sleep. Once it arrived, ‘twas my intention to order her to drink it and then go back to bed—she may have commanded her battalion, but ‘twas my ship they were on and thus, all on board answered to me—when a visibly tired Kusema spoke up again.

“Ma’am, incoming communication. It’s from Canterlot,” she reported in a slightly nervous tone.

I gave a sigh of resignation. I’d known this was coming, though ‘twas certain I wished it could have at least kept until morning. “Patch it through, Ensign,” I directed, deciding ‘twas better to get my dressing-down over with sooner as opposed to later. “And as we are closer to Canterlot now, establish visual, if possible.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” A couple of seconds later, a projection of Admiral Coral Torch appeared on the main crystal display, the seafoam-green pegasus mare looking stern, as always, though her no-nonsense image was somewhat ruined by the fact that her mane appeared to be free-floating around her. In fact, it almost looked like she was underwater and that her hoof was stretched out past the picture to hold whatever device she was using to communicate with us.

My observations were interrupted as she spoke. “So, Captain Shady. Despite all odds, ‘twould appear you managed to survive your idiotic expedition to the border.” Her eyes then landed on Firefly, who stood up a bit straighter under the Admiral’s appraising gaze. “And ‘twould seem you even managed to rescue at least part of the garrison stationed there. I suppose you think yourself terribly clever, managing to pull that off,” she stated in some scorn as her gaze returned to me.

I didn’t rise to the bait. “Ma’am, unofficial as our mission was, I am pleased to report the successful rescue of at least 100 of the Aerial Corps’ finest whilst inflicting great loss to the gryphons… though ‘tis with regret I must also report that ‘twas not without severe loss of our own. We suffered significant casualties to our air wing, as well as several dozen more to our crews when the gryphons attempted a boarding action.”

I took and released a deep breath before continuing, steeling myself for what I had to report next. “Our greatest loss, though, was the Duty. When her engines were disabled, Lieutenant Commander Sterling Silver adhered to Naval General Order Number Five.

“She destroyed her own ship by detonating the ship’s crystal power core, killing everypony—and every gryphon—on board. For it, I recommend her posthumous decoration and promotion to full Commander, and I take full responsibility for disobeying orders and the loss of life we’ve sustained. Be assured I will submit myself to those you may designate for arrest and court-martial. I will not contest the charges, and I will accept my punishment without protest.” I stood at attention as I spoke; the bridge falling silent around me as they awaited the Admiral’s next words.

To her credit, Coral Torch limited her reaction to a single raised eyeridge. “A very frank assessment, Captain. And to be honest, ‘tis far better than I expected.” She closed her eyes briefly herself; I saw what looked like a series of bubbles pass in front of her. “Although the loss of the Duty with all hooves is regrettable, ‘tis certain it could have been far worse. In fact, methinks ‘tis certain I did not believe any of you would make it back.”

“But she did, Admiral,” Firefly spoke up on my behalf. “She saved us all and inflicted grievous losses on the gryphons in the process. She has my gratitude for her superb skill and leadership, and I wish you to know that I would go into battle with her again without any hesitation.”

“Your sentiment is noted, Master Sergeant,” the Admiral replied with a terse nod. “And mayhap you will shortly have that chance. ‘Tis fortuitous that I find you on the bridge with the Captain, for I have new orders for both of you.”

“New orders?” I blinked; this was a far cry from her earlier talk with me. “Ma’am? Am I then to be retained in command? Are you saying that there is to be no punishment for my actions?”

“I did not say that,” she reprimanded me sharply. “However, following a talk with Princess Celestia, I decided that your attempt to ‘make a difference’, as you termed it, was the correct decision, even without orders to do so. We need every experienced officer we have, so quite simply, I cannot now spare you. That said…” Her eyes opened, and she fixed me with a stare.

“Regardless of this operation’s outcome, I will be ordering an inquiry into your actions, from which severe censure or worse may yet result. Furthermore, I understand that you had a review for promotion to Commodore coming soon?” At my nod, she continued. “That review will be pushed back a period of six months. Consider this your punishment for now, Captain.”

I very nearly fell over with relief; an inquiry and a delayed review for promotion? ‘Twas far more than I could have expected or hoped for. “I… thank you for your mercy in this matter, Admiral. ‘Tis more than I deserve.”

She nodded, then her features softened. “Methinks I should be thanking you, Captain. You said you were trying to strike a blow for both the Navy and all Equestria, and despite my fears, ‘twould seem you succeeded. With this successful display of the Navy’s abilities, methinks it may yet be the impetus needed to begin our return to glory and become a feared force in this new war. I need not tell you we were once as respected as the Royal Guard,” here, she nodded to Firefly, “and ‘tis past time those days returned.”

“Then I have no regrets, ma’am,” I told her. “I accomplished what I set out to do.”

She offered up a rare grin in response. “Indeed you did. Methinks your triumph will also do wonders to silence our neighsayers in the other branches. In fact, given your victory here, the Princess is about to order the Navy’s expansion. Starting tomorrow, the keels of six new airships are to be laid at Stalliongrad. Though I fear finding crews for them may be another matter.”

Firefly chuckled, “You’ll hear no arguments from me on the subject of Naval expansion, Admiral, and ‘tis certain my father will be very happy to hear it. If you need recruiting help, I would be more than happy to use my notoriety to assist. Indeed, I believe I must take back every disparaging remark and thought I’ve ever had about the Navy!”

A round of chuckles passed through the bridge, and even the normally gruff Admiral allowed her mirth to show for a bare moment. “Coming from one of the fastest-rising stars in the Royal Guard, ‘tis high praise indeed!” she stated, only to immediately turn sober again. “That said, back to business. As earlier mentioned, I have new orders for both of you.”

We both straightened. “Ma’am?” we said as one.

“Since the invasion began, we’ve had no word from Cloudsdale regarding their status. Considering that the city was marked as a priority target in the pilfered invasion plans, we can only assume the gryphons did indeed attack it, though with communications broken to the Corps and militia bases there, we know not how bad things are.” She bit her lower lip.

“The Princess did direct two battalions of the Aerial Corps 1st Division to her defense, but we have heard naught from them either. Thus, this order comes directly from Princess Celestia: Battle Group Four is to head for Cloudsdale’s projected position no later than noon tomorrow and attempt to re-establish communications, as well as assess the damage to the city.”

“I see…” I considered the instructions carefully. “Have we any idea where to look?”

“They were directed by message runners to flee southwest from their original location, which as of yesterday, was drifting southeastward over the Applelachian Mountains roughly midway between the cities of Detrot and Bison. As neither Detrot nor Bittsburgh, which are the nearest major cities to their recommended retreat path, has spotted them, ‘twould seem likely they slipped between them to avoid observation from enemy spies and took cover near Lake Luna, in the fog over the high mountains that mark the border to bat-pony lands.”

Firefly and I exchanged a worried look. “I will carry out those orders to the best of my abilities, ma’am,” I nevertheless answered.

“I expect no less. And that brings me to the subject of you, Master Sergeant.” She turned to Firefly next. “To make up for the Loyalty’s air wing losses, the remains of the Epsilon garrison is to accompany them, as per the recommendation and orders of Captain Typhoon, who is also currently in temporary command of all Corps forces after the assassination of General Fairweather and her second. Worry not about Ursa; two battalions of soldiers from the Aerial Corps’ 4th Division will arrive tonight to defend the base in your absence.”

I exchanged a look with a relieved Firefly, then turned back to the Admiral as we saluted as one. “Aye-aye, ma’am!” I said, echoed by the younger mare. “But methinks we still lack sufficient fuel for the trip, and given their losses, Ursa Base has little to spare,” I informed her, but once again, she was ahead of me.

“I thought that might be the situation, Captain. So I have ordered Capricorn Base at Stalliongrad to dispatch thirty transports with additional supplies and crew to Ursa, including additional workers to help get the Yoketown ready and, if possible, repair the Armistice’s engines in time for evacuation and refit at Stalliongrad. The first transports should land at 0800. Take on what you need, and then head south, for Thestralslovakia.”

I exchanged another look with Firefly, who clearly had the same question I did. “And if the thestrals object to our presence…?”

“‘Tis certain the last thing we need is a second front, so be deferential and avoid conflict at all costs. Emphasize that you are not staying and that your sole mission is to see to the safety of Cloudsdale, Captain. Escort it away from thestral lands to a point near Windy City, by the southern tip of the Lunar Sea. I will feed you the exact coordinates later, but the Princess has a very specific purpose in mind for her pegasi.”

“Understood, ma’am,” I acknowledged, even as I wondered what possible purpose that could be.

“Good. As for the thestrals themselves, a formal delegation is in route to them. ‘Tis unlikely, however, that they will reach them before you do.

“So if contact is made, you are to apologize for the intrusion but remind them of their obligations as per the sovereignty settlement they reached with the Princess after the Celestial War. As that treaty includes a provision to defend Equestria in the event of invasion, the Princess now calls upon them to fulfill their oath and offer their soldiers into our service…”

“War is cruelty. There is no use in trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.”

—General William Tecumseh Sherman

Author's Notes:

Welcome back to Firefly, about ten days early! I originally didn’t think this was going to be ready before the story’s two-year anniversary on September 1st, but as I had a head start thanks to some guest writing from Leo Archon, this came remarkably quickly. I was also able to do the two graphics in the space of just a few hours.

You may notice that there was only one song in this chapter, so it could take center stage. The suggestion for using Answers was Leo Archon’s, while the altered lyrics were mine. Can’t use the real ones because it’s against site rules for anything except MLP show songs.

As mentioned, additional thanks go to Leo for writing the first couple thousand words of this while I was working on Nightmare Night. Significant portions of two sections are his. Thanks goes as well to AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire and Denim_Blue for their customary prereads and suggestions as well as loading up the google doc with jokes, references, and comments. Reading what they come up with is one of the great joys I have for writing this.

Expect a second chapter to be ready in time for the story anniversary at the start of September, and the ending of this one should give some clue as to what it involves. Welcome back to Firefly, and hope everyone enjoys!

Part 19 - Day and Night

Dear readers—

I wish it known that this entry marks an anniversary of sorts. The release of this latest chapter comes two years to the day after I was first approached by Princess Celestia and asked to tell my story.

‘Tis certain I was very reluctant, not wishing to relive painful memories nor wishing my story to once again overshadow those of my comrades, who were every bit as deserving of accolade as many consider me, and sometimes more. But she was persistent, and in the end, I relented.

‘Tis worth noting that what finally swayed me was not a desire to have the spotlight on me, but to turn that spotlight on others. To make sure that all our stories are known and remembered; to make sure that ponies born after the war know the struggle and sacrifice that occurred within it—on both sides of the battle lines.

In this, I believe I have succeeded, telling the story of not just myself but all my fellow Bolt Knights, and deserving others like Father, Gavian, and Ambassador Kaval as well. The latter has promised that he has found some more gryphons willing to chronicle the Imperial side of the war, and they will be heard from going forward. But for now, ‘tis time to introduce three new perspectives to this tale, from several races that would be both revered and reviled in the course of the campaign.

As we make the turn from the first day of the war into the main campaign, the former ending with the destruction of the bulk of Equestria’s border defenses and the latter commencing the rapid and unrelenting Imperial advance on Canterlot, there are still other perspectives which must yet be heard.

The purpose of this chapter, therefore, is to introduce readers to three individuals and races who would figure prominently in the conflict to come. All had different priorities and reasons for choosing the sides and taking the actions they did, and though their societies and traditions might seem odd or alien by the standards of pony and gryphon alike, ‘tis certain that their role in this conflict should neither be ignored nor denigrated.

To that end, ‘tis time to begin the story of our bat-pony brethren, as told by two then-minor figures who would, in time, ascend to great heights in their respective societies.

Thank you, Captain. You are, as you have always been, a great friend to our race and nation, and ‘tis my honor and pleasure to take up the pen for the first time in this tale.

Greetings to all readers from the fourth and oft-reviled pony tribe. I am Viceroy Europa Universalis, Thestralslovkia’s head of state. ‘Tis by the invitation of Captain Firefly, extended to me through my friend and fellow Emissary Fell Flight, that I offer up my own recollections of the great conflict for the first time.

For those who are unaware, I am a Nightborne thestral—in overly-simple terms, a dark-furred bat-pony—and the current leader of the Nightborne nation. But at the time of the war’s outbreak, I was but a lowly and barely adult aide to Viceroy Chardonnay, our then-head of state. Our role in the war is now well-known, but not so much all that led to it. Thus, at the request of the High Emissary and with the acquiescence of the Lunar Council itself, ‘tis time to tell our side of the tale.

What you will shortly read comes from a preserved transcript I wrote the first night of the war of a Lunar Council meeting I was present for, when the news of the invasion arrived. As you will soon see, the matters discussed were not idle ones, as we faced our gravest choices and challenges since the days of Nightmare Moon herself.

Council of War

Lunar Council Chambers
Hollow Shades
Thestralslovakia
September 2^nd, 1139 AL [Anno Lunae]

There were times during these oft-boring meetings of the Lunar Council that issues of great import were discussed. There were also instances of raised voices and demands to duel. Rarely, however, were the matters discussed so potentially dire as the news that night, and ‘twas all my pen could do to keep up with their debate.

Word had reached us at dusk from our outlying trading posts of the Gryphon Empire’s invasion of Equestria, and with their initial apparent success and our nearest borders only a few hundred miles away from theirs, we had to decide—quickly—what we were going to do about it.

Unfortunately, consensus amongst the councilbats proved as elusive as ever, at a time ‘twas certain we would need a united front should either side come calling.

“For now, methinks we should do nothing!” insisted Primrose Plum, the Minister of Agriculture, whose duties included managing both our oft-meager crops—we did our best, but earth ponies we simply were not—and the cattle trade. “Nothing except see which side gains the upper wing—methinks to commit to either side now would be foalish! We must wait to see who is winning! Then and only then should we consider who to cast our lot with so we may dine at the victor’s table!”

“That may not be possible, Primrose,” countered Minister of the Treasury Lord Shiraz, whose grape-growing and winemaking family had amassed a considerable fortune. “’Tis certain that before long, both sides will wish to enlist our aid! Perchance you wouldst explain what we should do when both Celestia and the gryphons send emissaries to us, seeking alliance and soldiers?”

“We tell them no! The gryphons are not our enemies, but we owe them nothing! And Celestia can rot in Tartarus for what she did to us after Luna’s fall!” the Interior Minister in charge of land and wild game management all but snarled, baring her pointed teeth.

Viceroy Chardonnay then offered up a more calmly-delivered point, as he so oft did. “The Nightmare. Not Luna,” he corrected softly in the very dim firegem lit-chamber, slitted eyes glowing with their reflected light around the table. “Luna fell to the Nightmare. And then we fell into her thrall, losing everything for it.”

Primrose Plum gave a scoffing sound at that. “Believe what you wish, Viceroy, but it changes nothing! We are under no obligation to join either side! We pay tribute to stay out of Celestia’s conflicts! Methinks she can manage without us!”

“And suppose they do not take no for an answer?” the Viceroy pointed out patiently. “You presume they would allow us to sit out the war. What if they do not? What if Celestia demands our service? Our agreement keeps us out of offensive wars, but there are provisions in our treaty for calling us to arms if Equestria is under attack!” he reminded us all, then held up a hoof at the shouts of protest that erupted to indicate he wasn’t done yet.

“Nor is Celestia the only concern here. Treaty or no, the question must be asked if ‘tis even possible for us to remain neutral with the war so close to our borders. What if the gryphons decide we are just another pony with different looking wings and thus an enemy to be fought? These questions must be considered this night, fellow Nightborne,” he reminded us, causing the chamber to fall silent until a new figure finally spoke.

“I agree with you, Viceroy,” called out Small Talk, our mare Minister of State, who managed our trading outposts and was one of the few thestrals who would go abroad to visit Canterlot when Celestia called, as she typically did once a year. “Your low opinion of the Sun Princess is unfair, Primrose. She has treated me—and us—nothing but honorably. Our weather is managed deftly by their pegasus weather teams and I find their diplomatic liaison very respectful, to say nothing of Celestia herself.

“”Tis certain we owe Equestria our continued existence, not just as a race but as a nation! Or perchance you have forgotten that instead of exiling us entirely, she ceded us these lands and granted us autonomy within them?”

“For a yearly ransom in taxes, yes!” Shiraz brought her hoof down hard upon the table. “We pay her tribute and she deigns to leave us some lakewater and a few other scraps to fight with the Lightborne over!” she said with a sneer, speaking in reference to Lake Luna, the large northern lake which Cloudsdale filled every fall, and our less numerous light-furred cousins, the Lightborne thestrals, or ‘Highborne’ as they called themselves.

We were not on good terms with the latter and hadn’t been for centuries; there was little love lost between us, methinks, as even going back to Luna’s time we had vied for her favor and had been perfectly willing to undermine the other to get it.

“And for it, we are masters of our own affairs,” Small Talk replied as evenly and diplomatically as ever. “It may behoof us to consider what should happen to her favor if we decline to aid her despite our treaty commitments, and then she wins the war anyway. She may see that as a betrayal to be punished and order our lands seized for it. And methinks I would be hard pressed to explain why she would not be justified in doing so.”

That only brought about another scoffing sound. “You say that as if we would make that easy for her, or the Equestrian military would be in any shape to fight us after the gryphons,” pointed out General Starry Skies, the leader of the Nightborne Army, also referred to as the Army of the Night in remembrance of its long-ago service to Luna. “If they elect to invade us, they will sorely regret it!”

“Oh? And what of the gryphons themselves?” Small Talk challenged. “What if they come south into our lands?”

“Why would they?” came the dismissive response from the General. “Look at a map, Minister—their most direct route to Canterlot is between the Lunar Sea and the Foal Mountains, safely away from us! And from a purely military point of view, methinks they would not want to antagonize a neutral nation on the flank of their advance. Particularly not one with such a prime defensive position, protected by mountain ranges as we are.”

“And suppose they worry that we might not stay neutral? Suppose they decide a potential threat on the flank of their advance cannot be tolerated, prime defensive position or no? Suppose they treat us as just another race of ponies to conquer, Starry Skies?” Viceroy Chardonnay mused aloud. “What then?”

“Then let them come!” Starry Skies stated with surety, baring his teeth in a predatory grin. “If they are so foalish as to choose a war with us, then so much the better! They know nothing of us or how we fight; only the Equestrians! They know not the terror they face should they challenge us! We will then defeat their invasion on our own, at which point, we can dictate terms to not only them, but to all Equestria!” He flared his large wings proudly in what some ponies found an intimidating display.

“Hear me out, fellow thestrals! Think of what we might gain! Having saved her precious ponies, Celestia will have no choice but to give us whatever we want! We can then gain true independence and dominion over all our lands! The Lunar Republic of our former and future queen will be reborn! At long last, we will no longer be tied to a nation and princess whose subjects despise us! Our destiny will be ours and ours alone!” he claimed, causing an eruption of approving calls and wingclaps from the assembled representatives.

Far from being reassured, Small Talk stared at him in disbelief before rubbing her eyes with a hoof. “Really. Then tell me, oh overconfident General—what will we do when they send even a third of their reported hundred thousand-strong invasion force at us? What will we do when your sixteen thousand soldiers suddenly find themselves facing six or more gryphon legions backed by mages and heavy weapons? How will we defeat such overwhelming numbers, particularly when they quickly learn that they can neutralize almost all our advantages by fighting us during the day, if they do not already know?”

Starry Skies gave her a sneer of utter contempt. “Perchance you should stick to your tea parties with the ponies, as you clearly know nothing of military affairs! Do you really think we have not considered the question of daytime fighting, Madam Minister of State? That we have not made great strides in addressing such weaknesses in the past three hundred years?” he asked haughtily. “Do you truly think we do not have contingencies and battle plans to deal with an invasion? Or that my sixteen thousand regulars is all we have at our disposal?”

“An invasion from Celestia, yes! Not from the Gryphon Empire, who can dwarf our numbers and fight at night almost as well as us!” For one of the few times since I had known her, Small Talk raised her voice. “I say we cannot stay neutral in this conflict! I say we throw our lot in with Celestia here and now!”

“Traitor!” came the cry from Counselor Corvis, one of thirteen representatives from our outlying towns and villages; his voice heard clearly over the shouts of outrage and betrayal that erupted. “I knew you were soft, but ‘twould seem your time with the ponies has addled your mind! Even with our beloved Queen in exile, we serve the Moon, not the Sun! If we truly want independence, methinks the quickest way to gain it is to ally with the gryphons! Our aid would ensure their victory over Celestia and then they would grant us all we desire afterwards!”

“How dare you…” Small Talk flared her bat-wings and lowered her head, hissing sharply through bared teeth as she pawed at the ground angrily with her hoof. “Your hatred of Celestia blinds you! I say she is not the threat here! The gryphons are! You wouldst repeat the mistakes of the past and for it, condemn us all to exile or worse!”

“I dare, you pony-loving apostate! And I say ‘twas not a mistake to ally with the Nightmare then! And ‘tis not a mistake to join with the gryphons now!”

At that point, the Viceroy’s gavel came down repeatedly, silencing both sides of the debate. “Enough! Methinks this bickering is pointless, and ‘tis certain I prefer not to see blood spilled on the council floor in a duel this night! For such grave matters as we face, whatever we decide must be agreed to by all! And to carry out the council’s decision will require all! Is that clear?” Viceroy Chardonnay glared at Corvis and Small Talk in turn.

“Yes, Viceroy,” the pair mumbled, returning to their seats, but not without a parting glower.

“Good. Passions are running understandably high right now, so mayhap ‘twould be best for me to offer my own observations into this debate.” Though normally content to let the councilbats argue things out, he saw fit to take direct control here, and speaking for myself, I was very glad he did.

“First and foremost, your point is well taken, Shiraz, that before too long, both sides will come seeking our aid. So we must have our responses prepared before that, as well as contingencies readied for all eventualities, including potential military ones. And second, we do not yet know the Empire’s intentions towards us, and ‘tis hard to plan without that knowledge. Until then, methinks it prudent to mobilize our forces and be ready to repel an incursion from either side…”

His voice trailed off as a messenger mare entered through a roof window and landed before him, not bothering with the usual formalities of giving her dispatch to an orderly who would then ring a bell to read it aloud. She bowed low, apologizing profusely for the breach of protocol, but saying simply that her ‘message could not wait’, offering the Viceroy a scroll.

He read it, his expression going from surprised to worried to uncertain in the space of several seconds. Watching this, the rest of the gathering, myself included, noted his sudden change of demeanor and fell quiet, knowing that anything that disturbed our normally unflappable leader boded ill.

“My lord?” Shiraz called out. “What is it?”

The Viceroy carefully schooled his expression before speaking again. “‘Twould appear, my fellow councilbats, that the decision to take sides might be forced upon us far sooner than we would wish,” he began grimly.

“What do you mean?” Starry Skies asked for all of us.

“I mean that I have just received word that Cloudsdale has been sighted over our northern border just west of Lake Luna, General. They have been attacked by the Gryphons and have suffered heavy casualties. And for it, they are now requesting our aid and safe passage through our lands…”

Thank you for sharing this, Viceroy. ‘Tis an excellent insight into the difficult questions and choices facing the Nightborne that first night of war, and a reminder to all that the thestrals were—and are—no more of a single mind about various matters than other ponies, doubly so facing such grave decisions as these.

For those disposed to think ill of the thestrals for actively considering whether to ally with Equestria’s adversaries, I would remind them that ultimately, they were responsible to their own citizens and borders first, and had to consider what was in their best interests before deciding how to act. Even those who advocated joining the Gryphon war against Equestria were doing so on that basis, not out of any desire for personal power or gain.

But the Nightborne were categorically not the only thestral race or faction in play. For the bat-ponies had their own internal schism that would play a prominent role in the events to come… as I believe you can all too readily attest, Barrel Rider?

Indeed, Captain. ‘Twas very interesting to hear matters from the Nightborne perspective laid out so concisely. It’s darkly humorous to think that even as our more numerous dark-hued cousins sought to break away from Equestria, ‘twould be my fate as messenger to trigger a Highborne seperatist revolt from within Thestralslovakia itself.

Sadly, my name is far less impressive than what one might expect from a stallion of my reputation: Barrel Rider. I’m not particularly tall or good-looking either, in case you were wondering.

Whilst my distant Highborne relations in Star City are named for the stars and cosmic wonders of the Twisting Nether, I was born in Gryphon Lands and spent my life on the road, moving caravans of trade goods all over the world with my family. As such, I was named for my habit of riding atop the barrels of goods stacked up on our cart as a young colt.

I’ve traveled Zebreca, Saddle Arabia, Mexicolt, and Aresia. I’ve even had dealings with the Avians and Maregolians. I’ve seen all manner of magic and heard the wisdom of many powerful beings, learned from the wisest of philosophers, and just plain old-fashioned crazies who nonetheless had a good point now and then. I can safely say that, with all due respect to the sincere beliefs of my orthodox kinfolk, my importance and magnificence isn’t on the level of a nebula, star, or planet — not even a dwarf planet!

You don’t give yourself enough credit, Barry. I find you quite impressive! Though, whilst I respect that you have a difference of opinion about our race and our mission in the world, surely you’re not going to make this all about you?

I was getting to you, Your Radiance, I swear! Firefly asked for me to introduce myself and so I did. And as for you, I was saving the best for last.

You’re such a sweetheart! I do hope you won’t make me look too bad for the part I played in my tale, for I was acting in what I thought to be the best interests of our race. Be that as it may, I leave the final word to you. I must monitor the cosmic energies of the Nether for such is my duty until the Stars deem fit to summon our people home.

A House Divided

The Temple of Karabor
Star City
Thestralslovakia
September 3^rd, 1139 AL (Anno Lunae)

In my introduction I presented myself as a business bat, a trader. And that’s still mostly true. But I’ve found over the years that what creatures really want is stuff they aren’t supposed to have: close-held information and contraband.

To put it plainly, I was a smuggler, an expediter, a fence. I’d given up on the life of a merchant once I’d reached stallionhood and went to work for a very different sort of family, though still of blood relation. In the service of the Honorable Lady Lacerae’s colony, I was posted to New Eagleland to help expedite grain and poppies from Equestria to help feed and… entertain the gryphon colonists.

Life was good and relatively easy compared to fencing gems out of Neighrobi, Zebreca which I had the misfortune of doing for some time. Too easy, in fact. The family decided ‘twas time to send me ‘home’, with an official sealed document of the Gryphon Empire to give to Star City’s High Priestess and sovereign ruler, one passed to me by an Imperial agent with the cover of a more reputable merchant.

A document that ‘twas certain to get me killed if ‘twas discovered in my possession.

‘Tis certain that was the least of my worries as I stood before the Great Temple of the Cosmos; a massive complex built of whitewashed stone and poplar topped by a great circular dome of stained glass etched with arcane symbols. The colors and symbols meant nothing in particular to me, being non-magical as I am. Only those of the Leucistic Order, those blessed from birth with unicorn horns, could influence the infinite powers of the Nether; ponies call them Thestralcorns.

I may not be a learned mage but I knew the huge pillar of glowing purple fog filtering in through the top of the dome wasn’t normal. I had a mental image of being fried by a death ray as soon as I stepped inside.

A blue-cloaked thestralcorn stallion cleared his throat delicately, pulling my attention away from the unnatural sight. “Sir Barry, inside please! Neptune isn’t in the habit of being kept waiting by the rabble. Say your peace and pray she finds you worth her time.” His expression told me he knew at least enough about me that he was praying for the death ray option, as he wouldn’t even give me eye contact.

At this point, methinks I really wasn’t in the mood for being talked down to by somebat I saw as a magical mutant. “I beg your pardon, habibi. It’s just you don’t see a place like this everyday, ya know?”

“Well you don’t, clearly!” The priest turned up his nose at me.

I grunted at him by way of reply and made to walk through the door, but I was stopped by a projected force field from the priest.

“Before entering, be warned that your unsavory deeds are known to us, Traveler. And for it, know that if you dare attempt to defile these sacred mysteries whilst you are here, you will never leave. Keep that in mind…” A compelling force then pushed me through the open door and slammed it behind me, leaving me in semi-darkness.

“Stuck-up mutant freak… Who did I tick off to ever get stuck having to come here?” I muttered to myself as my eyes adjusted to the darkened room which, I could see clearly now, was an antechamber of sorts. Portraits of horned thestrals lined the walls; the High Priestesses who called the Temple their home. Opposite the door to the courtyard stood a table featuring a pair of elaborate brass candle holders lit in observation of certain holy days, I’d had it explained to me once. They held not one but multiple sticks, but I noted the wicks were pristine, having never been used.

Above the table, a huge painting of a beautiful and somehow unnerving pale thestral gazed imperiously down upon me, a smirk etched across her face. I recognized her as the first High Priestess, Juniper Tree; a psychotic witch — I know some are willing to excuse her for her intentions, but it’s true — who nearly got my entire race killed during the Lunar Rebellion in the name of preserving it for all eternity.

It struck me immediately how odd ‘twas to be inside of a small art gallery set in nearly pitch blackness. Combined with the chill in the air and the faces of so many austere, humorless horned faces looking down on me, it made the already confined space that much more oppressive.

I trudged forward, unwilling to prolong my discomfort any longer than was necessary.

I have to give the designers of the Temple credit. If ‘twasn’t for the length of carpet covering the way I was meant to walk, I might not have found the proper path for some time in the darkened chamber. The wall opened up on either side of the portrait of Juniper Tree into a single hallway lined with open doors on each side; the carpet splitting into two paths around the stone wall.

The temple interior, as best as I could tell, was designed for defense against an attacker as any creature coming through would be funneled through a blind hallway before facing the defenders. I marveled and shook my head at the architect’s paranoia, but couldn’t help but wonder if it was justified.

I heard a gentle sucking sound all around me and felt a rush of chilling air which seemed to pour from each doorway I passed, channeled into the hallway as the wooden supports above me groaned slightly. I felt panic rising in me as the air seemed to thin out ever more with each step. There were no other thestrals inside the temple with me to give me company, tell me everything was alright and explain to me why the gatekeeper outside had been such an arrogant goat.

I thought of going back out to look for him in a moment of desperation, as an arrogant goat was better than this! But I remembered my mission and pushed on. The hallway at this point was at least lit by torchlight but their flames sputtered and waved furtively onward the deeper inside the bowels of the ancient bastion I went.

I gave brief notice to the details of each individual room as I passed but saw many ancient scrolls, books, relics of various sorts, and more hallways leading to what I’d guessed were living quarters. My sense of unease grew at the sight of so much unoccupied space. Why in the name of Arcturus had seemingly everybat abandoned the holiest shrine in all of Highbornedom?

And then suddenly, I stopped. A wall of force pushed me away as I tried to reach the end of the hall.

The way is closed to you but be not afraid, wanderer. I flinched hard when a mare’s voice spoke, as if she were a whisper inside my mind.

“H-Hello?” I spoke aloud to the empty hall.

There’s no reason to fear, wanderer, for I am with you. The way is shut and it’s not safe to enter my chamber at this time. The kiss of the void is fatal to all who enter it. If you wish to observe my holy task, you may go up the stairs to your right and look inside from there… She spoke serenely, seemingly unconcerned by such small matters as her own health and well-being. I ask for merely a moment longer before we can speak properly. I’ll be waiting...

At that moment, I’d found myself unable to speak at all as my mouth had turned to sand. I looked towards the stairs and, taking a moment to gather myself, ascended to the room above.

What I found wasn’t a room but rather a large balcony designed for at least fifty thestral occupants. Behind the balcony, twelve torches lit the room which trembled at the magical presence that filled the entire temple; a clear glass dome covered me all-around like I was a ship in a bottle. I cried out in fear as I gazed up towards the roof of the massive dome and saw our moon, our stars and sun all in their proper place in the Summer Sky.

The perspective rotated around the center of the room where my host took court, standing on a glowing pink and purple crystal pillar. Her eyes were closed; her expression peaceful as a scarlet jet of magic from her unicorn-like horn penetrated the infinite blackness into a rotating, semi-translucent and roiling purple mass of what looked like magical energy. Her blonde mane and loose-fitting robes whipped furiously behind her as if she were caught in a high wind. I could see stars glimmering faintly behind the cloud leaving me even more confused as to my perspective of events.

You have come and seen with your own eyes the glory of our Cosmos. Tell me, my weary and wayward traveler, what is on your mind at this moment?

I watched in horror as the torches, each standing one alongside the other went out one by one. “That I should have stayed home!” I shouted as I trembled on the floor.

Her mirthful laughter filled my consciousness. You are afraid. That’s good! Every Highborne must learn their place in the order of existence. ‘Tis appointed for us to die just as the lesser races do. But our destiny as Highborne is to harness this vast emptiness. To gain wisdom and power from its ancient creative magicks. And once we’ve finally succeeded, to ensure our own ascension and that of our offspring.

‘Twas nothing I hadn’t heard before from other thestrals who followed the arcane and oft-indecipherable Highborne Orthodox faith, but to see such ideas demonstrated so graphically? Methinks ‘twas a wonder I hadn’t fainted yet!

It is to this end you’ve sought me out, unbeliever or not in our racial destiny. Such is the will of the Cosmos that every creature shall bear the message of its glorious truth… in one way or another! As she spoke, I could feel that awful emptiness around me, creeping slowly into my cage of glass and stone and tugging at my chest. I felt the pressure in my ears begin to build as her silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity until, quite unexpectedly, the vision of the stars began to fade, the pillar of scarlet fire separating itself from Juniper Neptune’s magical grasp, retreating up through the hole in the temple dome.

I felt welcome warmth against my membrane wings and turned around to see the torches had come back to life. All across Juniper’s inner sanctum, the glow of magic was replaced by the natural light of torches, though the vast pillar on which she stood still radiated powerfully with a violet hue. She opened her eyes, colorless save for her pupils and looked down on me, expressionless.

I swallowed hard and reached into my saddlebag. “R-right! To the issue at hoof.” It felt weird talking to some creature who wasn’t even in the same room as me, but as I’d just seen her effortlessly channel the Cosmos, it probably wasn’t an issue for her. I held up a scroll against the glass. “High Priestess, I have been sent by my benefactors in the Gryphon Empire with an offer of alliance. In short, they promise to guarantee our ancient claims to Thestralslovakia in exchange for our assistance in their war against Equestria!”

I felt a tugging on my entire body and my vision went black, followed by the sensation of being squeezed through someplace uncomfortably tight. When I could see again, I was floating high above the floor on the other side of the glass inside the chamber with her, held in her field of levitation. She seemingly took no notice of me or my screaming in terror as she casually read through the scroll I’d had in my possession before banishing the missive in a puff of smoke. “An emissary of the Gryphons… You’ve done well for yourself, Sir Barrel Rider! And for it, I shall offer you due respect!”

She gently placed me down next to her on the pillar in the center of the room. On the one hoof I wasn’t in danger of falling, on the other… I looked up at the powerful thestral who stood a foot taller than me at the withers, her delicate spiral horn still aglow with her violet aura. She nickered gently and smiled. “You look so tense, traveler! Be at ease—you are among your own kind here, and your offerings do please me. Is something bothering you?”

Well aside from being dragged around the reins, nearly asphyxiated to death, and scared within an inch of my life, there was the matter of impending war she was in no way reacting to but I decided not to press my luck. ’Tis rude in most cultures to press one’s host, I knew from long experience of many nations and cultures, and if that host be a priestess… “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting a happy meeting with you, Your Radiance.” I went on to explain my cold reception from the priest at the entrance of the inner temple.

Juniper gave a friendly laugh. “Be not offended. Hyperion is a strong and capable priest—a powerful magus, loyal to me and steadfast in his duty. If he weren’t a stallion, I’d consider him for succession when I’m one day called by the heavenly host to ascend to the stars.”

I was about to shake my head but caught myself. I’d heard tales of some of the High Priestesses ascending into the heavens after being called home by our Cosmic Overlords, but no solid evidence of such feats existed. In any case, the Ascended made no attempt to return home after leaving, making me suspect the legend was conceived as a way of adding legitimacy to the priestly class.

“If I had one complaint about him, he’s a bit slow to accept travelers such as yourself into our colony,” Juniper continued, leaving me to my thoughts. “He mistrusts the Highborne who’ve gone off to live among other creatures and assimilated to their culture. I disagree with his rather… hardline stance but I respect his views just as I respect yours, Barrel Rider.” She gave me a knowing wink.

I winced sharply. “My views, Priestess?”

Juniper gave me a look both sly and apologetic. “Yours is not a difficult mind to read, I’m afraid…”

“Oof…” I grinned back at her sheepishly. “Well, you’re not the first to tell me that!”

Juniper shook her head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Tell me, Barry. May I call you Barry?”

I nodded in the affirmative—for what else could I say?

Her smile gave way to a look of intense interest. “You know the gryphons better than just about anyone living in Star City. You’ve lived long enough among them to gain their trust. As an emissary of the Gryphon Empire and potential future ally, what do you make of them as a people?”

I’d rehearsed this scenario in my mind and was more comfortable in this moment than I’d been at any point since entering the Inner Temple. “The Gryphons are strong and proud, well versed in warfare and in a position to easily overpower all resistance that stand in their way from ponies and Nightborne alike. As we speak, an army a quarter of a million strong prepare to march on Equestria the likes of which no creature has ever seen. They believe that ‘tis their fate to rule over this continent just as we believe ‘tis our fate to rule all of Thestralslovakia.”

“Curious then they do not simply crush us along with our lesser pony brethren. But they have sent you all this way to tell us of their impending attack. Such information doesn’t come cheap.” Juniper held up a hoof for silence and took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Their invitation to help us was written in very flattering prose. They say all the right things, but I don’t believe for a moment that the gryphons mean any of it given their hegemonic ambitions. ‘Tis no doubt in my mind they would turn on us once Equestria is under their wings,” she mused idly, though there was no hint of anger or fear in her voice at such a future betrayal.

“Then… we are to decline their offer?” I asked cautiously, my heart stopping for a moment, fearful for what that meant for me as their erstwhile ambassador.

To my surprise and relief, she smiled warmly at me. “Not at all. For even such a brutish race as theirs is practical when it comes to using basic tools. So long as our race offers something important to the gryphons they cannot possess themselves, then ‘tis certain we have nothing to fear from them.” Juniper lit her horn, causing the crystal pillar to react by glowing brighter. “If you think about it, that is why you are standing before me today.”

I wasn’t sure I did as I arched an eyebrow at her. “But, Your Radiance, I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me. I’m not magical and I’m not convinced that any of what you teach is actually true. Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but my many travels have taught me that our world is full of magic and magical creatures, of which you are but one of many.” I frowned, looking down at her hooves to avoid meeting her glance, feeling guilty for admitting my thoughts to this surprisingly sweet-natured mare responsible for keeping the faith of so many. “You flatter me, but in truth, there is nothing remotely special about me. I’m nothing more than just another thestral among many.”

She lifted my head with her crystal-shoed hoof and gazed into my eyes. I’d felt a tinge of unease looking upon her pale coat, unicorn horn and unnatural height but at that moment, looking into her eyes, so peaceful and serene, she’d seemed less a living weapon created by dark magic and more the leader of the Highborne race she’d been chosen to be.

“My dear Barrel Rider, your lack of faith is the only thing holding you back from greater understanding. What I will reiterate for you at this point is that the cosmos can and will use any creature it chooses to demonstrate the truth to all things, even an unbeliever or the heathens of the East.” She released me from her grip, leaving the spot on my face she touched feeling strangely lonely afterwards.

“As it pleases you, Your Radiance.” I bowed my head and extended my wings out to my side in a show of contrition. “Then with your permission, I shall return with word of our acceptance to the gryphons?”

“I grant it. And for it, we may consider our business for today completed. I will have a formal response to the Gryphon offer prepared by this evening, so you may rest today and then set out with it again at dusk. But tarry not in your task. I may have further need of you very soon.”

The High Priestess then launched a beam of magical energy into the sky which burst into an explosion of light like a Romane candle. “Events have been set in motion which will convince even a skeptic such as yourself of our special destiny. And when they are done, ‘tis our sacred Highborne race—and not the gryphons or Nightborne—who will become the true sovereigns of this land.”

I would believe it when I saw it, but thought it best not to voice that sentiment out loud.

My sincerest thanks to both of you. ‘Twas an excellent introduction to both sides of the Nightborne/Highborne thestral divide, and one that would figure quite prominently in the weeks and months ahead.

It had been my intention to end this chapter here, but I recently received a letter from a very unlikely source, asking for their story to be heard in this tale as well. After due consideration, and a consult with the Equestrian Intelligence Service, I have decided to do so, for there is no denying their contributions to this conflict.

Indeed, Equestria owes their very existence to this secretive race, for without their warning, ‘tis certain we would have been crushed by the full-strength Imperial war machine in a matter of weeks.

Salutations, readers. My name is Lycovenato, but I believe most Equestrians would remember me by my pony name, Bramble Tracker.

I answer to both, though as my late father would always tell me, “A name means nothing on the battlefield.” ‘Tis a statement that, as grim as it sounds, cannot be more true in the heat of conflict. Whether officers or enlisted, whether Talons or Knights… ‘tis certain your identity only holds weight to those who know the face behind the helmet and bloodstains, and when you’re fighting for your life, one does not usually have the luxury to stop and study their foe when parrying a strike or planting a blade in a stomach.

This saying holds an even greater meaning for my kind. For you see, dear readers, I am a changeling. One of the few who not only sided with Equestria during the conflict, but fought for her directly in the guise of a pony. ‘Twas not an easy feat to maintain my cover for all those years, but I did so.

As those in my profession will oft agree, a good disguise is one that not only looks convincing, but is expressed in a convincing manner. Whenever a changeling dons the face of a pony, gryphon, or another creature, we must not only look like, but become that creature. We must take on that creature’s story and personality. To fail at this risks suspicion, and suspicion can lead to capture or worse.

However, in this lies great danger. For stay disguised long enough, and one might find themselves forgetting who they are, becoming lost in their alternate identity. On the battlefield, this is doubly difficult for my kind, for you can succumb to the violence and become the very thing you had vowed to fight against, forget the purpose of you risking your life in the first place…

But, forgive me, I digress. With your indulgence, Captain, I shall start my story now, properly…

First, let me start by saying that I had yet to see my twenty-fifth winter when the war broke out between Equestria and the Gryphon Empire.

At the time, I was living in a humble village just a day’s march north of the Imperial capital of Mosclaw, working as a hunter and fisherbeing to make ends meet.

Yes, Changelings will hunt, given our predatory past. I have also been given permission from my hive’s leading authorities to state that our diet is not unlike those of omnivores, as although we cannot survive without love, it alone is not sufficient to our bodies’ needs; we require certain other nutrients no less than any other organic being. I was actually born in Equestria, and had spent most of my youth in the pony lands. My mother died from illness shortly after my birth, however, so I have no strong memories of her and only the stories my father would share with me.

I was told she was a spy by trade, working for the Lepidoptes Hive, and had met my father when they were both young. My father was a soldier and scout who had spent most of his life moving from town to town, never staying in one place for very long until he and my mother married. With my mother’s death, my father had taken it upon himself to teach me all he knew about the lands he visited in his younger days, and he showed me how to be self-sufficient.

One of the first things I learned rather quickly was how to hunt and move silently under my father’s tutelage. He taught me methods for tracking prey, how to skin animals to make hides, and how to properly cook them, both for myself and for possibly trading with the local villagers. He also taught me the value of maintaining a good cover. He taught me how to avoid detection by blending in. For almost twenty years we were the only family we had, and once I was old enough to make the journey with him, we both set out for the Gryphon Empire, where hunting was more respected and we could better apply our skills for money and other necessities.

We rarely crossed paths with other changelings, more often than not they were agents of the queen who wished to speak with my father and exchange information. Our hive had long taken the stance of a peaceful, secretive existence among the world’s other races, so those who served as agents, like my mother and father, were often required to spend years, if not most of their lives, separated from the hive whilst gathering intelligence and knowledge to share.

Some had even taken to calling changelings such as my parents “independents”, though this term is perhaps not the most accurate. Ultimately, they served the Lepidoptes Hive, more or less exclusively to be exact. The same, methinks, could be said for me.

Whilst my father was mostly retired from active service, he still served in a limited capacity, providing information and speaking to the occasional changeling that would seek him out. So, naturally, he taught me what he had learned in his years as a soldier as well. To this day, I do not know if he was attempting to groom me into a potential agent for my hive, but regardless, I enjoyed my time growing up under his care.

Unfortunately, my father fell ill as well during an especially harsh winter, and as the love he needed was hard to find in a winter wasteland, he ended up dying in his sleep. I spent the next five years alone, living off of what the land provided and making ends meet. I rarely spoke to the other gryphons in my village, and I suppose they didn’t mind my reclusiveness in turn. ‘Twas lonesome, true, but ‘twas also what I was familiar with.

That all changed, however, when I chanced upon meeting a lovely changeling female by the name of Plexippa Lepidoptes. At the time, the gravity of such a name was unknown to me, though I blame my father for this lack of knowledge. Whilst he was gifted in many things, he lacked the common sense in teaching me the names of the Hive’s royal family line.

A few gestures and hidden signals quickly brought to light that she was not just a changeling, but an important one who would forever change my life.

Try Everything

She was, by all accounts, a rather unassuming female, albeit with a confident demeanor and an athletic build for one her size that spoke of rigorous training. Whilst she lacked the air of a warrior, I could tell she was someone who could defend herself if the need arose.

I locked the door to my small cabin and pulled the drapes across my windows to keep the odd onlooker from listening in—one could never be too careful in Gryphon lands, where the Office of Owls had an uncanny ability to surveil their own subjects and find out things they didn’t want others to know. After we both shed our gryphon disguises, I probed the ambient magic of the cabin and felt reassurance in the privacy wards that crossed my horn’s senses.

“We are free to speak, now,” I began with a nod. “It’s rare to see a member of my hive out here, so I imagine you must be here to see me for something of import?” I made my way to my kitchen space and placed a dry log into the cooling embers of my wood burning stove. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of indulgences, but I’ll have a pot of Zebrican coffee boiling in a bit if you want. Shouldn’t take too long, the stove is still warm from breakfast this morning.”

“Coffee?” she echoed, her ears perking up in interest. “However did you find coffee this far from the zebra lands?”

I nodded. “It’s a dark roast that I was gifted from a hive traveler that recently returned from Zebrica about two months ago. The coffee is still fresh thanks to some preservation magic.” I looked over my shoulder to her, “You said that you’re here on Queen Scylla’s behalf?”

She gave a nod whilst taking a seat on a log chair, taking a moment to get comfortable before speaking, “Yes, my mother informed me that your parents were both gifted agents in their time. Your mother served as a spy whilst your father once served as a soldier in my mother’s army before taking on a less demanding role as an agent.”

I blinked, the kettle hovering in my magic as I slowly turned to face her. “I… forgive me, I must have misheard you. Did you say ‘your mother’s army’?” I set down the kettle and turned to face her fully.

She simply tilted her head to the side and gave me a small smile. “Oh? I apologize; I’ve been told I can be rather quiet at times when I first meet new folks.”

I narrowed my eyes a little. She gave off genuine honesty, curiosity, and… amusement?

“Is something wrong, Lycovenato?” she asked, her smile growing a bit as she recognized my confusion.

“You must be joking, lest you’re implying you’re the daughter of the queen, which would be ludicrous. ‘Tis certain no queen would ever let a member of the royal family go off into the gryphon countryside without an escort.” I frowned as she let out a snicker. “I’m sorry, but what is so funny?”

“Forgive me,” she began, raising a placating hoof as my frown deepened, “my mother had warned me that you might not be too used to other changelings, living in such a remote area of the Empire, but I had no idea you were unaware of who I am.” She giggled a bit when I quirked an eyeridge. “Allow me to introduce myself a bit more formally then: I am Plexippa Lepidoptes, fifteenth daughter of Her Majesty, Scylla Lepidoptes IV.” With that, she bowed low in royal greeting.

“I see…” I studied her closely, looking for any hint of deceit. No tension in the shoulders. Ears upright, alert, and facing forward. She was smiling in a manner that reached her eyes, which were currently meeting my own, leaving me to reach one rather disquieting conclusion. “Suppose I were to believe this. Then perchance you wouldst answer why Her Majesty sees fit to send her daughter out alone into a clearly dangerous land, just to speak to the son of two retired changeling agents who are one with the World Soul and Hive Mother again?”

“It does seem strange, doesn’t it?” she replied with another laugh. “My mother was against me becoming a scout for the hive at first, but I managed to convince her with the help of my elder sister and brother.” She turned her attention to a saddlebag she had been carrying. With a flare of her horn, a scroll was pulled out. She channeled some magic into the rolled sheet of parchment, which gave off a faint blue hue of its own before she unfurled it.

“A concealment spell?” I said aloud, recognizing the magic she had used.

“Indeed,” she confirmed with a nod. “‘Twould be an issue were a curious gryphon Talon or, Hive Mother forbid, a member of the Office of Owls, to learn of our plans, so proper measures must be taken.” She hoofed the scroll to me as she added, “Any who do not know the spell would have only read some poorly written poetry authored by a young Talon eagless stationed in the capital and bored out of her mind, yearning for some dashing tiercel to dominate her in a round and sweep her away from a life of monotony and eventless patrolling.”

“...truly?” I couldn’t help but raise an eyeridge at that.

“Well, I’ve mostly based it on my time as a scout patrolling the hive’s borders, if I’m to be honest.” She puffed out her chest as she went on, “In a few months I shall be given an assignment in the capital, however! That will no doubt be far more exciting! Can you imagine? I may even be able to learn some secrets of the Owls, or perhaps uncover some conspiracy to assassinate the Empress!” She clopped her forehooves together as she giggled, the gravity of her new task or the scenario she spun lost on her. “Truly there is excitement in store for me when I am stationed in Mosclaw! Methinks anything is better than patrolling the dull halls of our hive!”

“A true spy never wishes for excitement in their line of work. Excitement can cause issues,” I noted as I opened up the scroll, only to catch myself. “Forgive me, I… I mean no disrespect, Your Highness, but that—”

“Oh, come now, don’t digress to formalities now,” she frowned for the first time since arriving. “I signed on as a scout to escape that. Out here, I am not a princess. So please, simply call me Plexippa.”

“...very well, Plexippa.” I cleared my throat. “As I was saying, a true spy would wish to avoid any chaos or excitement in their line of work. Excitement can lead to rash decision-making, and rash decisions can lead to an Owl interrogation or a Raven blade slashing open your throat.”

“Bah, you’re as stuffy as my Sergeant was back in training,” she waved away my warning dismissively with a hoof. “I am well aware of the risks, I’ll have you know. You cannot blame me for wanting some excitement and thrills in my life after being coddled so long by mother and sequestered within the halls of her hive, can you?”

My eyeridge raised even higher at that. “I tend to enjoy calm and quiet, personally. It’s harder to hunt when it’s loud.”

Her ears perked at that. “Oh? You hunt?”

I nodded. “Mostly for myself, but I do some trading in town when game is more plentiful. Mostly grouse, pheasant, and the occasional flying boar if I’m lucky. On rare occasions I might take down a young roc or black bear.”

Her eyes lit up in a manner I would come to enjoy in the weeks to come as she leaned forward and asked, “Please, will you show me how you hunt?”

Plexippa lived with me for the next three months whilst awaiting further orders from Her Majesty via encrypted crystal communications.

For those of you curious, I am afraid I am not at liberty to divulge the contents of the scroll that she had given me, but methinks its content is a moot point, as you shall learn shortly.

I will admit, Plexippa’s company was refreshing and, if I may be allowed to wax poetic, breathed life into my monotonous and isolated existence. Before her, there was mostly grays and little else. Her soul splashed color that I had forgotten about onto my life, and helped me see the world in a new way. Where once it had been routine, ‘twas now spontaneous and passionate.

She sought out experiences, and wished to learn new things. She was at times reckless in her desire for fun, but Hive Mother preserve me, she quickly wormed her way into my heart. She was but a few moons older than I, and was the first changeling around my age that I had ever befriended. Methinks the same was true for her as well, for in time we had become… close.

Your Majesty, should you read this, know that I had grown to love your daughter in our short time together. She had a heart that was as vast as any ocean and a smile that was brighter than the sun itself. The Hive Mother truly loved her, for how else could one so beautiful be made so compassionate and willing to share her love with those around her?

It may have been due to living among gryphons so long, who are not as prone to sharing their emotions and opening themselves up, but it was all I could do to not be overwhelmed by her personality during our first weeks together. I know she had wrote to you about… our plans, but I still feel the desire to tell you as such now as well.

In the days before she left for her assignment in Mosclaw, we had made a promise that, after her mission was complete, she would return and we would announce our intent to marry each other before you, Your Majesty. I do not know if we were rushing things, but we were young and in love. Love does as it pleases, and ‘twould seem it had decided to entwine us both in its snare.

Sadly, as those of you who read the previous volume are likely aware, Plexippa would not return to me… or return to the hive, for that matter. Methinks her life ‘twas as brief as ‘twas bright, and to this day I feel like a part of me died that fateful August night.

A New Calling

Northeast of Mosclaw
Location Undisclosed
September 4^th, 1139 AC (Year 305 of of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
0335 hours

I had awoken to the dark interior of my cabin and the sound of knocking on my door, light but urgent in tone. I took a moment to shake off the sleep before listening to the knocking again. A cadence of slow and rapid beats that I immediately recognized as the Lepidoptes Hive’s signal of military urgency reached my ears, and I was on my hooves and unlatching the door in seconds.

I was greeted by two stern looking gryphon hunters dressed in ragged furs. My cover’s eagle eyes studied them for several long moments. “Perchance I may ask why you are knocking at my door so damned early for?” My gryphon growl was not entirely forced.

“Apologies, sir, but we’ve received word of a timberwolf pack prowling the area and causing problems for some of the surrounding villages. We were hoping to speak with you about the forests nearby before we go out to hunt down the beasts. Some of the townsfolk suggested we seek you out.”

I shall merely state at this point that several gestures and a signal or three indicated they were members of the Lepidoptes Hive’s spy network, and that they had an urgent matter to discuss with me.

Grumbling in annoyance, I opened the door. “Very well. Then kindly come inside before it gets cold in here.”

As soon as they were inside and the door was latched, we dropped our disguises, revealing two changelings in light armor and wielding curved blades and longbows. I blinked in surprise as I noticed the faint, violet sheen to their barding, and immediately recognized their meaning. “Well. ‘Tis not everyday I’m paid a visit by the hive’s Silencers,” I noted idly, suddenly wondering if ‘twas myself they were here to silence.

Silencers were the hive’s elite warriors and assassins, trained to kill silently and efficiently. If rumors are to be believed, they are capable of taking on Ravens and Black Lances on a somewhat even playing field… though ‘tis certain an even playing field is far from ideal for any who specialize in assasination. Normally one would be uneasy, but I quickly realized that there was no intent of harm from them, given they would have slain me the instant the door was closed otherwise. So either they were passing through and knew of my cabin as a safe haven… or had important news that could only be trusted by the best of the best.

“Good evening, Lyconvenato. Unfortunately, our reasons for visiting here so late are far from pleasant, but… ‘twas Her Majesty’s request to inform you of the recent events.”

“Recent events…?” I echoed, sensing the slightest ripple of unease in the elite assassin’s emotions. It gave me worry, for if something was bad enough to make a trained killer upset… how would I deal with this news?

The second assassin spoke up in reply, “‘Tis our duty to inform you that Princess Plexippa Lepidoptes died whilst in Equestrian lands. We learned this but hours ago thanks to our informants in the Equestrian military… though it had happened a few days prior before last month’s end. ‘Twould seem she… accomplished her mission of procuring gryphon plans and bringing them to pony hooves, but ‘twould also seem it came at the cost of her life. The ponies report she had been gravely wounded by her gryphon pursuers; we believe them to be Ravens.”

He took a moment to let me take in the news. It may have been seconds, it may have been a dozen minutes, perchance even an hour. I do not know, but eventually I nodded in understanding, even if I wasn’t entirely sure I could believe it, finding myself suddenly shaky, sitting back on my haunches heavily and releasing a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

When I finally met his gaze again, he continued, “Her Majesty is making preparations for the Hive to assist Equestria and is spreading the word throughout her spy network. She was aware of your connection to her daughter, and felt it important to tell you. You were also among our list of contacts, since you’ve lived in both Equestria and the Empire throughout your life.”

‘Twas all I could do at that point to process what he had said. I was staring into the floor of my cabin, my mind still trying and failing to process the news of my beloved’s death whilst a cold pit formed in my chest.

“I… see…” Was all I could say in response to this. My voice was numb and my features impassive, but my insides were a cacophony of emotions that any changeling could sense.

Recognizing this, the two Silencers glanced at each other before speaking again. “We are aware this is… difficult news for you. We are also aware that you have no official position in the military and are serving only as an agent and contact for the hive, but Her Majesty has an assignment that she believes may suit you… if you believe yourself to be capable,” the first agent continued, his tone mercifully gentle.

“I’m afraid that even at this early date, the war is off to a rough start for Equestria. Her border defenses have been shattered and the entire population of Canterlot is more or less being held hostage by the Kalator dragon clan, so Princess Celestia is unable to aid her army without sacrificing her capital and all within it in the process.”

At this point, I knew not what this had to do with me, and did not much care, my mind still reeling. For if Plexippa was truly dead, then what purpose was there for me now?

I had no one left.

Nevertheless, the elite assassins went on. “‘Tis our hope we can get a team in to smuggle supplies, although ‘twill take considerable time. There’s supposedly an underground cavern that connects to the older parts of Canterlot Castle, but our intelligence is uncertain on this.” The second Silencer said with a grimace. “From what we can gather, Princess Plexippa forced the gryphons to push their invasion forward before they were ready, lest they have Equestria waiting to counter them.

“And thus, the ponies barely had time to prepare any amount of defense. Even forced to launch early, the Empire’s Prelate, Salvio Gaius, planned this invasion well. He has caught most of Equestria flat-hooved and has Diamond Dogs and a powerful dragon clan backing him, even with half his army not yet arrived in theatre.”

All this was only distantly processed by me; at that moment, all I could think to ask was: “And… what does this have to do with me?”

The two exchanged another look before one of them dug out a scroll from between the folds of their barding. “Your previous instructions given to you by Her Highness, Princess Plexippa, are no longer in effect. Consider these your new orders, but only if you feel you are capable of carrying them out. Queen Scylla has made it clear she wishes not to throw lives so carelessly into this conflict when our intelligence is wanting.”

I unfurled the document, which bore the Royal Crest of Lepidoptes, and read it over silently.

Greetings Lycovenato, Son of Odonaetta and Clavulus,

I am saddened that my first time writing to you was because of such a loss in our mutual lives.

I first wish to extend my deepest sympathies to you, my dear changeling. I am well aware of my daughter’s wishes to marry you, and whilst I have yet to meet you myself, my beloved Plexippa had told me nothing but wonderful things about you in the few months she was living with you.

Know that whilst I grieve for the loss of my daughter, I understand that you too are in pain right now as well. Plexippa clearly saw something in you that she loved, and I cannot help but trust her.

However, you will have to forgive me; time is of the essence, and grieving will have to wait, at least for now. By now you are no doubt aware of the war Equestria faces. Given the current situation and the conflict, I believe a task you are suited for has come to mind.

Your knowledge of Equestria, as well as the Empire, might very well help us aid in this war between the ponies and gryphons—a war that, for the sake of all Hives, the ponies must win. Whilst we do have the resources to spare for Equestria, unless we can properly navigate the current chaos whilst remaining undetected, the agents of the Hive risk sharing the same fate as my daughter, except they will likely be captured or slain before accomplishing anything.

We have confirmed that Equestrian Intelligence and Princess Celestia herself are aware of our desire to help, but I’m afraid that the number of ponies who know of us at present is small. As such, the risk of being seen as spies working for Equestria’s enemies is quite high. That is where you hopefully can assist.

For the sake of my lost daughter, I would request that you be among those who serve as my eyes and ears within Equestria, taking the guise of a pony or any other form necessary in order to both gather and pass intelligence, and even intervene directly in the conflict when called for.

I realize this will put you in grave danger, but whilst you have had no formal military training, what Pleixippa told me of your skills is nothing short of what I would expect of any scout. She has also commended your prowess with a bow, saying ‘tis on par with that of our best archers.

I know you are grieving, and I will not make this an order, but your assistance would be welcome and seen as homage to my daughter’s memory and mission. If you believe yourself capable of traveling to Equestria and providing the Hive—and Equestria itself—with much needed information and intelligence, then my agents will escort you to the main Hive where we will make an assessment on your abilities and see if you truly are prepared for this task.

If not, I wish you well, but please understand that I can no longer assist you should you need it, for all my resources must now be devoted to Equestria’s survival whilst simultaneously keeping our activities secret from the Office of Owls.

May we speak again, Lycovenato, and may the Hive Mother guide us all in these dark days ahead.

There was no physical signature, but the faint magical trace that ran across the scroll was unmistakable. Every changeling is able to recognize the magic of their queen, regardless of whether they have met her or not, and Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV was no exception.

As I looked up from the letter to the two Silencers before me, a corner of the paper caught fire, a verdant flame of unnatural cause. I dropped it as the fire quickly spread across the scroll, eating away at it before it even touched the ground, leaving only a few smoldering ashes at my hooves.

“My apologies,” the first Silencer stated, the glow of his horn fading, “but the Office of Owls knows we stole their war plans and their agents are searching for us. Thus, we can leave no evidence of our activities.”

Understandable, and expected as far as the elite of Her Majesty’s military go. I gave a nod and looked to them both for a moment. “So… for the sake of her daughter, Her Majesty wishes for me to travel to Equestria and help the Lepidoptes Hive assist Celestia in the war,” I said, though ‘twas more a statement than a question. For I had already made up my mind, and it must have shown on my face.

The Silencers both shared a ghost of a smirk before the first replied, “So you’ll come with us, then?”

Before replying, I looked to my barren cabin. It had been my home for over a decade… but now, it carried the faintest echoes of her. What had once been solitude had become a suffocating prison, nothing more than an endless reminder of what I had lost without ever fully gaining it. And for it, I found that more than anything, I wished to be gone from the place.

“Yes. For the sake of my beloved and my own wounded heart, I will answer my Queen’s call. Allow me to pack some essentials and I’ll be ready,” I answered, and within a few minutes, I was exiting the cabin with my escort for the final time.

Mosclaw, and then Equestria, awaited me.

With apologies, Captain, I shall have to leave my story there for now. I’m trying to not let the emotions from recalling such events brought forth by the memory crystals overwhelm me; ‘twould seem even after all these years, some of the wounds I suffered never healed entirely.

Whilst heroes are often born in the midst of battle, I do not agree that there is anything glorious about war itself. Like you, I have seen the horrors of it firsthoof, and I can only pray to whatever gods may hear me that our world never experiences another conflict such as that between Equestria and the Empire again. Too many lives were lost, many belonging to my hive. In the end though, the war ended, and things have taken a turn for the better because of it.

Still… I often find myself, in the small hours of the night, seeing the faces of those I failed to save and those I had taken the lives of. I can only imagine that many more who fought that terrible war experience something similar. ‘Tis the sad and ugly truth of war; that victory requires an enemy to be broken, and I can say with confidence that there are many, many ways to break an enemy.

I shall return the quill to you for now, Captain Firefly. If you find this to your liking, my story shall continue later, once I have managed to better collect my thoughts and find a way to put what happened during those bloody times onto paper. Thank you for allowing me a place to share my words, and be assured future entries will find their way into your hooves.

And try as they might, be assured that no, your EIS will not be able to trace them. With apologies to them, they are quite good, but we are simply better as stealth is our way of life.

Thank you for sharing, old friends and new. I did, in fact, meet Sergeant Bramble Tracker twice in the course of the war, having nary a clue who he actually was! As both the thestrals and changelings would all too swiftly get swept up in the maelstrom of war, ‘tis certain that I will be calling upon you all later, and before too long.

‘Tis often been said, and methinks not without good reason, that the ponies and gryphons are but two sides of the same coin. Herbivore and carnivore, predator and prey; peace-loving and warlike. But the lesson that neither of us fully learned until war’s end and perchance even after was that we were not, in fact, destined to conflict with, but complement each other.

Indeed, methinks if there is any lesson I took from the war and its aftermath, ‘tis that the nature of Harmony is not peace, but balance. Balance between the two sides and races that couldn’t be more different, but in the end, needed each other to be complete and help each other to reach their full potential.

And yet, that fact holds not just for us. ‘Twas ultimately the same for the ponies and thestrals with their day/night dichotomy. The strength of Equestria itself comes from the balance of three tribes, with the Princess herself as their avatar, and it also holds true for the thestrals with the Highborne/Nightborne rivalry.

And that, dear readers, is ultimately what made the old order untenable—not just for the gryphons and the ponies, but for the ponies and the thestrals, the Highborne and Nightborne, who all sought to supplant each other whilst not understanding that ultimately, they needed each other. Far too many fell in this conflict to learn that lesson, and, as the recent plot to restore the Empire shows, far too many still haven’t, seeking a false glory or imagined utopia that never actually existed.

But this, too, is why warriors will forever be needed; to guard and preserve that hard-won peace and knowledge from those would refuse to heed the lessons of the past. And to answer a question that was posed to me recently, that is why I continue to train and prepare the next generation of soldiers on both sides to ensure that they will be ready when—and not if—the need for warriors arises again.

“Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.” —Thomas Jefferson

Author's Notes:

Two years to the day after the story launches, and 80 years to the day after the start of WWII (which conflict inspired this story and one it will, at times, reference) it continues with this worldbuilding chapter. It's been a fun story to work on for the most part, though I won't lie and say I've enjoyed all the effort it takes to make some of the graphics. But the end result is definitely worth it! I truly believe I've made something special here.

With the help of my prereaders and now, guest authors, that is! AJ_Aficionado and Denim_Blue both wrote a third or more of this chapter, penning the Highborne and Changeling parts of it. And for it, they—along with their characters—will both be heard from going forward to tell their sides of the story. Thanks goes as well to occasional contributer Leo Archon and prereader Silentwoodfire.

This is hopefully a worthy entry in the canon, and allows two of my best friends and fellow authors to incorporate their own thestral/changeling headcanon into it as well. So don't be surprised if they answer comments as well as me here!

---

PS: Those of you who haven’t done so already are invited to check out my latest story:

/story/445579/the-best-and-the-worst

Inspired by the HBO series Chernobyl, it asks the following questions: what would happen if Celestia took Twilight to the site of the worst nuclear accident in history without telling her why or what happened there, wanting her to solve the mystery of what happened there based on available evidence? Why would she do this? And what lessons would she want Twilight to learn?

For what lessons could possibly be taken from such an awful place and accident that reflect well on humanity? It may sound like an odd idea, but I made it work and it’s been well-received. Give it a read if you haven’t already!

Bonus #2 - Celestial War Proclamation

To all Equestrian subjects and soldiers, and to every mare and stallion, no matter their race or station:

‘Tis with the greatest of sorrow and equally great anger that I must confirm that Equestria is now at war. On dawn of September 1st, with only the barest of notice given, the Gryphon Empire launched an unprovoked invasion of our lands, with the stated goal to depose your Princess and destroy our way of life.

‘Tis with regret I must also report that their initial invasion has met with some success. They have already forced back many of our frontier forces and shown no quarter in countless engagements, willing to slaughter to the last pony those who resist them despite their guarantees of mercy and good treatment to civilian and soldier alike.

They have even enlisted the aid of the Diamond Dogs and the merciless Dragon Lord Kalator, whose clan has lowered themselves to besiege Canterlot on the Empire’s behalf, bribed by empty promises of rare riches and supposed revenge. ‘Tis true that they have trapped me here, rendering me unable to aid our armies, able only to protect the Capital.

My ponies, I will not mince words. Our foes are ruthless and numerous. They are skilled and determined. They even wield terrible new weapons we have never seen before, and shown an appalling willingness to both use and abuse them in pursuit of their dishonorable ends.

But they are not unstoppable. We have faced their ilk before and have always triumphed. Over the long history of our great nation, we have fought and vanquished the Spursians, the Overmare, and even the mighty Crystal Empire. We have defeated dragons and tamed Ursas; we have brought down evil Kings and magical beings, triumphed over all adversaries from Sombra to Tirek. For all their power and for all their soldiers, they could not conquer us. And ‘tis certain that in the end, neither will the Gryphons.

To all who watch from afar and believe the Imperial fiction that this invasion is somehow justified, make no mistake: This is a war of aggression and conquest, little more than an attempt to replace Equestrian primacy on our continent with their own. I would not give their war declaration or ludicrous list of grievances the dignity of a response, except to note the following:

The time for talk is over. The time for diplomacy has come and gone. There will be no negotiations. There will be no surrender. I call now upon all ponies to rise up in Equestria’s name and fight the invaders; to show them the power of friendship and harmony when wielded in our beloved nation’s defense.

To all reading, know I am a peaceful pony by nature; I take no pleasure in death or killing. But I am well-versed in military affairs; be assured that I will find a way to save my ponies and my nation. Know that for your innumerable crimes, for your deception, for your dishonorable and ruthless tactics, and for the lives of my ponies you have taken... my wrath will be terrible and I will do my utmost to crush your armies utterly.

To the Imperial leadership, you have made a grave mistake, and be also assured that although you may have started this conflict, that Equestria will finish it. And our terms of peace will be both simple and brutal:

The total destruction of the Gryphon Empire’s ability to wage war and expulsion of her colonies from this continent.

Done this day of September 2nd in Canterlot, By order of the Solar Crown and by acclaim of the Equestrian High Council, witnessed by the military service heads and attested to by the duly elected representatives of the United Pony Tribes,

For our lands,
For our families,
For our friends,
For our way of life,
And for the causes of Friendship and Harmony itself:

The Dominion of Equestria declares War on the Gryphon Empire, their allied Diamond Dog tribes and the Kalator dragon clan.

Author's Notes:

Welcome to the end of release week! Been a hell of a ride to start given we were basically shot right out of a cannon and into the war proper! But it’s a bittersweet moment as well, given that with the release of this bonus section, we have reached the end of the pre-prepared chapters. From here forward, expect a more regular pace of one to two new chapters per month, and that the chapters will lengthen. It’s my philosophy to start with smaller chapters to ease readers into a new story, as I think larger chapters are a turn-off at the start.

Regardless, hope you’ve enjoyed the ride thus far! Plenty more is planned, and major fights lie ahead. It’s been a successful release, and one I’ll have more to say about in a blog post later, but for now, I’d just like to thank everyone who’s come aboard and better yet, gone back to read the original story as well. Rise of Firefly has picked up 12 fresh likes since the new story was released. I might well have some additional bonus material to release there as well...

Nothing else to say at this point except offer yet another huge thank-you to my entire production crew of prereaders AJ_Aficionado, SilentWoodfire, TheGoldCrow, Denim_Blue, and co-author Leo Archon, who have all done their part to make sure this story was as polished as possible upon launch. Love you guys and thanks again!

Part 20 - Plans in Motion

Greetings once again to all my little ponies and friends of the Equestrian nation alike. I take up the pen briefly in this new chapter at the request of Captain Firefly, to detail events and actions taking place in Canterlot on the second day of war.

I will attempt to keep my words here brief, as I do not wish them to overshadow the difficulties my beleaguered subjects and soldiers faced that day, but I do feel that I at least owe readers a window into my own thoughts and strategies at that point in time.

Call To Arms

High Council Chambers
Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0645 hours

‘Twas not long after dawn on September 2^nd when the hastily drafted Equestrian Declaration of War was presented before me. It had already been signed by the assembled representatives of all three Pony tribes, and now the only signature it awaited was my own.

Calling the Equestrian High Council into session that chaotic first night of war had not been easy, of course. Not everypony was available, given more than a few councilponies had been slain by assassins or otherwise trapped outside of Canterlot by the dragon siege, but enough were present to reach a quorum and formally ratify the war declaration. In the end, it passed nearly unanimously with little debate, with all signatories approaching the laid-out document to sign it under the masked and watchful eyes of the PSD.

The only dissenting voice belonged to a unicorn noble who counseled negotiation and ‘careful consideration’ of gryphon grievances over an ‘ill-thought rush to war’, perchance not understanding that we were already at war and that the only negotiations the gryphons would engage in were for our terms of surrender.

Never mind the fact that the dragon clan circling our city outside had already sworn Canterlot’s destruction. Never mind the fact that, as I knew from bitter experience from dealing with Dragon Lord Kalator himself, they could not be trusted to keep any deal.

I gave a brief speech in my battle armor before the High Council flanked by my Celestial Guardsponies, whose earth pony commander, First Lieutenant Sabre Slash, had been wounded in the initial wave of assassination attempts. But to his credit, he still donned his armor and limped to his post at my side. Methinks what I said in my speech was standard boilerplate—we will not lose; we will not relent—intended for public consumption. But I kept it brief, knowing that the dirty business of fighting and winning the war required careful planning and a restored chain of command.

A day after the initial word of the Imperial attack, we had a much fuller picture of the extent of the gryphon operations and it quickly became clear that we could not easily stop them. Not with nearly a fourth of our prewar combat power lost on the first day of war from the crushing of the border defenses. Not with at least fourteen identified legions surging into Equestrian territory with an unknown number yet to be committed to the fight.

Methinks the only good news we had at that point—I would not receive word of Epsilon’s successful extraction for some time—was that Gamma was holding and tying up considerable numbers of troops, whilst their northernmost legion had, according to EIS communications intercepts, been wrecked by Epsilon’s stubborn defense, preventing them from fully turning our defenses. The south was the biggest point of worry, with the well-led gryphons there having already overrun an alarming two hundred miles of territory, pushing all the way up to the edge of Thestral lands.

Their intentions past that became far less clear, however. It seemed unlikely they would wish to antagonize the bat-ponies, whose entry into the war could more than make good our losses and make any Imperial attempt to push past the Applelachians that marked their borders a bloody and brutal affair. But ‘twas uncertain the gryphons knew that, though ‘twas also uncertain what they planned to do about them, given they seemed to have planned for everything else.

‘Tis certain the nightmare scenario we faced at that point was that they somehow co-opted the thestrals, perchance with an offer of independence or simple vengeance, leaving us to fight a two-front war with limited forces and no easy way to hold off either enemy without losing against the other.

As we adjusted to our predicament and our menacing new neighbors—who made no attempt to breach my shield but remained poised over the approaches to our great city, frequently flying overhead to remind us of their presence and intent with drawn out roars that carried across the mountains—‘twas all I could do to maintain order and prevent panic, particularly as anypony attempting to leave the city by ground were instantly incinerated once outside the shield. We lost at least one major noble that way as he offered up a chest of gems for his safe passage only to be laughed at and immolated, and his gems taken anyway.

Oddly enough, for reasons we did not yet understand, they were allowing ponies to enter the city but not exit, and only after stripping them of all their valuables and supplies. Outlying farms and villages were likewise spared destruction, but their residents were ordered to abandon them and flee to Canterlot or face immediate death.

We knew not what that meant or why they were doing it, but ‘twas certain it boded ill. ‘Twas a terrible time regardless, and ‘twould be a lie to say I was not worried, calculating my power reserves carefully and already making contingency plans in the event I was incapacitated by being cut off from sunlight. But never once did I believe the situation was irretrievable, nor that the dragons or gryphon invasion could not be countered.

Over the course of that day, our initial war plans were finalized, and the following General Orders were disseminated with the help of Coral Torch’s hippogriff-lent communications:

Celestial General Order #2943

FOR IMMEDIATE ISSUE
September 2nd, 1139 AC

To the officers and soldiers of the Equestrian Armed Forces:

Methinks I need not tell you that we have been invaded by the Gryphon Empire and are now at war. This much is known. What is not known is that we face perchance the most dire threat in our nation’s long history, exceeding even that of The Nightmare or King Sombra himself.

Gryphon numbers are vast and, taken by surprise, we have little hope of stopping them in the short term. Accordingly, we must adopt a strategy of denial and delay, trading space for time as we attempt to overextend them and slowly bleed them dry.

Fully realized, our nation’s military capacity can equal or even exceed the gryphons. But ‘twill take considerable time to reach such a state, and thus, we must hold them off long enough to fully mobilize. Accordingly, the following war policies are now in effect:

All Weather Control is suspended over greater Equestria except for particularly severe storms. All female weather team members will report to Corps recruitment offices for military service to await conscription and assignment to Corps storm teams.All existing civilian cloud stores are now reserved for military use. We will have to rely on the slow reestablishment of natural continental weather patterns to provide our farms the rainfall they need.We will practice a policy of scorched earth to deny the gryphons supplies. All crops, factories and bases that cannot be evacuated before the gryphon advance reaches them are to be destroyed to deny their use to the enemy. All roads and possible avenues of advance are to be rendered impassable. They may fly, but their supply trains and siege engines still require ground transport.Universal conscription is declared for all able-bodied mares ages seventeen to forty. Only nursing or infirm mothers are excused, as well as herds with non-adult foals having only one mare left. Titles of nobility will not be accepted for deferral. And given the threat we face, I must reluctantly order that desertion be punished by death.All ponies who have served in the Army or Aerial Corps in the past twenty years are to be returned to active duty immediately, excepting the circumstances above.Stallion volunteers for combat duty will be accepted, but for now, they are excused from active duty and requested to report to farms and factories further back from the front to support the war effort.We require allies in our fight. Accordingly, I will be dispatching representatives to old friends and enemies alike in hopes of enlisting their aid. This includes diplomatic missions to Thestralslovakia and other, more distant realms.

The following instructions are issued to individual service branches and adjuncts, which are in keeping with the guidance of the Winter Contingency plan for all-out war with the Empire:

The Equestrian Army is the key to our strategy of denial and delay. Lacking sufficient strength, they are not to challenge gryphon legions directly for now, but instead, pounce on overextended or isolated units and avoid encirclement; ensure that the gryphons cannot advance swiftly.Tis certain that a fighting withdrawal is the most difficult of military endeavors, but it must now be performed by the Equestrian Army with the goal of preserving as much military strength as possible whilst slowly bleeding the gryphons and forcing them to overextend themselves.Corps tactics will likewise be one of harassment and ambush, utilizing hit-and-fly tactics that avoid general engagement until such point as our numbers can challenge theirs.The arms factories of Stalliongrad are to shift into full wartime production as per existing contingency plans, with an emphasis on heavy weapons and naval rearmament.Royal Navy Expansion is to begin immediately. Keels for six new airships of the Harmony and Unity classes are to be laid at the Stalliongrad shipyards, and become the core of new naval battle groups. Accordingly, the as-yet untouched Capricorn Base at Stalliongrad is to become the main naval training and construction complex whilst lesser shipyards will design and build escorts of the proposed Duty II and Sentry classes.The Equestrian Aerial Corps is to establish two additional training bases and begin mass training of pegasi, with the intention of doubling the size of the Corps from fifteen thousand soldiers to thirty within six months. If Cloudsdale has indeed been attacked, methinks there will be no shortage of volunteers.The EIS, Black Lances and PSD are to come up with plans to organize resistance operations in occupied territory, as well as secure our own against Knight and Raven raids.The Office of Magical Research is directed to speed research into new weapons, with an emphasis on anti-dragon arms and elemental magicks. If we can lift the siege of Canterlot, I can directly intervene in this conflict, but until the dragons are driven off, I cannot assist our forces or Canterlot falls and all within will perish.The Royal Guard will relocate its training base from Fort Spur to western Equestria and begin training stallions and mares alike. Existing Guardsponies will be used sparingly until the time is right.All earth pony militia are folded into the Equestrian Army. Once contact is reestablished, the Cloudsdale militia is to be folded into the Aerial Corps.

These were general orders for the individual services. What follows is my own personal guidance for the conduct of the campaign:

We will NOT throw raw recruits or untrained civilians into combat! If we do, they will be slaughtered by well-trained gryphon soldiers at great cost to our numbers and morale alike.Our initial losses will be replenished by stripping the northern, southern, and western frontiers of Equestrian Army and Aerial Corps troops as much as possible. If this means that we must temporarily concede territory to the Maregolians or the Harpies, then so be it.Our first wave of mobilization will be from returning retired veterans to active duty. Our second will be from training up Earth Pony and Pegasi militia. Our third will be from conscripts once they have completed basic training at Aerial Corps and Army bases. ‘Tis my hope that the first two combined with redeployment of existing forces will buy enough for the third.Outpost Gamma is to hold out and tie up as many gryphon troops for as long as they can. I take no pleasure in this order, and am only too aware I am sentencing them to death. I will honor and mourn them. But to buy precious time, I must order their sacrifice.

These are my orders. For the sake of our survival as a nation, I expect them to be carried out faithfully and promptly. ‘Tis clear to me now that we cannot win a short war, only a long one. Therefore, we must ready ourselves to do so whilst steeling both our spines and our spirit for the hard road ahead.

We will stand. We will fight. We will prevail.

Signed,

—Princess Celestia Daybringer

This document was not for public consumption—methinks ‘twas far too frank an assessment for that—but only to be passed among the service heads and those they deemed had a need to know it. I suspected it would eventually end up in gryphon paws—‘twas certain, after all, that they still had mind-controlled agents watching us—but it mattered not.

What did matter was recovering from the shock of the initial attack, reestablishing our chain of command and beginning the bloody work of grinding the gryphon war machine to a halt.

Not all my instructions would end up being carried out, either from simple necessity or due to gryphon military prowess. But methinks it at least gave us a starting point for our resistance and the difficult road ahead.

Thank you as always for your time and well-written entries, Princess. ‘Twas you who convinced me to write this account of the war, and yet ‘tis you who makes it complete and fills in the blanks we could otherwise not know.

But ‘tis not your general orders for the war that hold my attention now. For I write this entry following the first day of classes for the Equestrian Officer Academy’s fall session, and already I find myself lost in thought.

The foiled coup attempt, the news of which has now spread across both nations, was a huge topic of discussion of my officer candidates, both pony and gryphon alike—of which my first-year class has seven of the latter as part of the ongoing exchange program between our respective militaries.

At one point, the uncomfortable question was posed by the former to the latter—what would they have done if the coup attempt succeeded and the Empire was restored?

‘Twas a very difficult question for them to answer, as many of them had friends and family here, and had come to admire and respect Equestria in ways their forebears never did. One said that he would not have believed the Empire’s explanation of events; that ponies were capable of such severe treachery, and thus refused to return, even at the cost of dishonor and disgrace.

Another explained though honor would require them to obey orders and return, the Empire was not honorable and she could not, in good conscience, serve it. A third said that he would indeed return home—to fight the reborn Empire before it plunged them into another ruinous era of endless war.

This in turn led to a spirited discussion of what honor actually was, and what use ‘twas in wartime. I shared some of my own experiences of honor, both offered and denied, and then brought up the difficult dilemma that Imperial forces faced against Epsilon.

I reminded my students again of how the gryphon offer of honor had in fact been taken advantage of by my forces, seizing upon both the midnight surrender deadline and Centurion Nael’s offer of an honor duel, using them to buy ourselves the time we needed to make our superstorm and then escape.

‘Twas an interesting talk, and before long, I’d thrown away my class lesson plan for the day and instead let my students debate. In the end, with some fairly intractable disagreements presenting themselves, I assigned an exercise for my class: take the role of the two sides that first night of war in the lead up to the midnight battle at Epsilon, with a twist:

I ordered the ponies to command the gryphon side and the gryphons to command the pony one, and to come up with strategies they considered both effective and ‘honorable’ given the following objectives—force the outpost’s surrender or otherwise take Epsilon down quickly and cheaply for the gryphon side, whilst the pony side was given the outpost’s standing orders in the event of invasion: hold out for as long as possible and inflict as many losses as they could.

As the plans were made and dice were rolled to simulate the randomness of war, calculating casualties as well as the success or failure of smaller engagements, it quickly became apparent that the objectives—and how the two sides defined honor for it—could not but clash. And thus, no matter who was victorious—‘tis worth noting that we ran the battle simulations five times using various schemes and strategies both sides offered, and Epsilon escaped annihilation only once—one side would believe the other acted dishonorably or outright committed an atrocity when all was said and done.

‘Twas a sobering experience, and as class ended, I left my subdued students with the following assignment: write an essay of how they individually defined honor, and what it would require them to do should they be issued orders they find dishonorable.

‘Tis an exercise I must now apply to myself, as I suddenly recall an instance where neither I nor the Equestrian side acted honorably by the standards of either race. Our reasons at the time seemed sound if not entirely comfortable, but looking back now, a grave injustice was done and continues to be done by covering up the true events. And for it, a difficult decision lies ahead for me; one I must ponder on. Whilst I do so, however, the story of the war continues.

Methinks I know of what events you speak, Captain, and ‘tis certain I do not envy you this dilemma. Just know that whatever you decide, I will back you and serve any role in its revealing that you wish.

Greetings once again to all readers. ‘Tis Commodore Shady speaking again. With the coup attempt thwarted and both the Queen and Admiral safe, ‘tis time I continue the tale in lieu of Admiral Tailwind, who remains bedridden and very frustrated for it, though at least he finally has his daughter at his side.

For those who are interested, a proper duel between the Loyalty and Arnau did finally happen, with the battle perchance appropriately ending in a draw. Both ships were ruled to have sustained heavy damage and casualties but also to have remained flight and fightworthy, each unable to land a killing blow on the other.

Perchance symbolic, in the end, of the war between our races as a whole.

As the Arnau readies to depart with her escorts and Queen Jeyenne, and I make ready to return with the Loyalty to Capricorn base, leaving the Admiral to his ongoing recovery, I will detail the next stage of my ship’s role in the war, skipping ahead a day. For we had just received orders I feared would be both dangerous and difficult to carry out, though ‘twas not the gryphons that had me or the future Bolt Knight Captain worried.

‘Twas the prospective encounter with the fourth pony race, though both they and the other three would deny their inclusion in that membership at the time.

Towards the Unknown

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Northern Ohioat province
220 miles north-northwest of Lake Luna on the Thestralslovakian border
September 3^rd, 1139 AC
1430 hours

‘Twas the middle of the following afternoon before the Loyalty finally lifted off from Royal Navy Base Ursa.

We had to wait until the base defenses were set and enough supplies were loaded, as the guns of the Loyalty and Vigil were the only real defense the base had until sufficient reinforcements were in place.

It took far longer than I would have liked. As promised, freshly mobilized troops in the form of an Army regiment and two battalions from the Aerial Corps 4^th Division arrived during the night, followed swiftly by the promised thirty transports from Stalliongrad.

But they had flown all night to get there, leaving their soldiers and unicorn Airedales exhausted and transported workers scarcely less so, having been kept on alert and unable to sleep, fearing a gryphon nighttime raid on their barely-defended formation.

They were spared that, thankfully, though ‘twas certain they needed rest, and then to get sorted and organized before they could start into their appointed tasks—repairing the engines of the badly damaged Armistice and getting the Yoketown battleworthy in addition to resupplying the Loyalty. As a result, ‘twas not until nearly noon when our resupply effort began in earnest and our crystals recharged.

Once they were, we were to obey our orders and head south for the bat-pony lands, seeking the missing Cloudsdale whilst the war continued to rage to the east; the gryphons having only briefly paused from their first day efforts to reorganize before resuming their advance.

There was little we could do about them for now, as ‘twas certain their forces would be alert to our presence. We had been lucky once, but ‘twas certain that to attempt to engage them again ‘twould be suicide without sufficient escort and support.

Which was not to say that our new mission might be any less so. ‘Twould be a lie to say sailing for Thestralslovakia ‘twas a task I was relishing. In truth, methinks that in some ways, ‘twas even more dreaded for me than taking the battle group into action at Epsilon base.

At least with the gryphons, we knew they were our enemies and how they fought. But what did we truly know about the bat-ponies anymore? Very little, this long after the War of the Celestial Sisters. They kept mostly to themselves in the territory the Princess had ceded them, in her belief that ‘twas indeed their ancestral home and they were just as much the victim of The Nightmare as her lost sister.

Whether true or not, granting them their own land and lakewater ‘twas both a peace offering and a magnanimous gesture to a defeated foe. And ‘twould be a lie to say it had not worked—in return for autonomy and Cloudsdale filling their reservoirs yearly, they paid their taxes and kept watch over the wild lands of the Everfree for us, causing no internal troubles for the Equestrian nation.

This despite the belief of many that they would stab us in the back at the first opportunity. They hadn’t yet, but what if they had just been waiting for the right opportunity? And what, then, if the gryphons offered them that opportunity? Would both we and Cloudsdale then be walking into a trap? Would they deliver us and Cloudsdale to the gryphons on a platter, and then turn their own army—estimated by some to be twenty thousand strong—on Equestria, facing us with an unholy alliance we could not easily defeat?

I knew not, as I retired for the first time in two days the previous night, returning to my stateroom only to find myself lying in bed staring at the ceiling. In truth, I had only seen a bat-pony once to that point, not counting the eyes of Fell Flight, on an official visit to Canterlot that coincided with the Nightborne ambassador’s yearly visit.

She was presented at court during the Grand Galloping Gala—an affair that solidified my distaste for such ceremony and disdain for most of the noble class. Seeing webbed bat wings and orange cat eyes on a dark-furred pony body made me shiver as I was introduced to her, her attributes only accentuated by the lower light levels the Princess was keeping the ballroom at to be a good hostess.

If she detected my discomfort, she hid it well, instantly recognizing my service and rank. She noted further to my great surprise that the Navy had been the thestral service branch in days of yore, and many were the tales still told by Nightborne elders of the Royal Navy’s exploits before—and during—the Celestial War.

All this I recalled as I rested in my stateroom, or tried to, leaving Commander Tailwind in charge until I awoke. In truth, ‘tis certain I wasn’t sure I could sleep, but either through exhaustion or the same tea I ordered Firefly to drink, it finally came. By the time I arose again—methinks I was shocked to have slept for nearly thirteen hours and a little annoyed at not being rousted after a reasonable time—’twas early afternoon.

I reentered the bridge to find we were being readied for departure as the final supplies were loading, whilst Master Sergeant Firefly formally folded the remains of her battalion under our air wing. They were made an independent air group under her command, consisting of two separate platoons. I was fine with that as long as Phantom Flight was, but ‘twas certain I was less than happy about our orders and the fact that the Vigil would not be accompanying us as Port Admiral Ironclad wished her to remain as cover.

Her master, Commander Copper Coin, was less than pleased, but methinks he was assuaged by the fact that his ship became the defacto flagship of the three-ship battle group there, thus making him acting Commodore, even if the other two ships were not combat worthy.

There was one minor surprise, however, before departure, though methinks I had no sense of how momentous and important ‘twould one day be. Though perchance you should be the one to detail this, Captain, as you knew them well before I did.

Perchance you are right, old friend. So whilst reading through the honor essays I received from my class, mayhap I will take a break from them and pen a brief passage.

Licking Wounds

‘Tis certain Captain Shady was not the only one who finally collapsed exhausted in bed when all was said and done.

Not long after Admiral Coral Torch ended communication, the mint tea Shady had requested for me arrived. She immediately ordered me to drink it, saying it would help me sleep. I protested mildly until she reminded me that I was currently under her command by virtue of my presence aboard her ship, and that I would be no good to anypony if I did not rest, offering me a bed in the more comfortable senior enlisted racks if I wished.

‘Twas then I relented and drank it, and I regret that I do not recall what happened after, save that I woke up on a cloud in the senior enlisted quarters much later. Methinks I wonder to this day if the tea had been magically spiked for how swiftly I fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of naval reveille. It took me a moment to recall where I was and what had happened; I tried to rise only to fall back in my bunk. I thought to just close my eyes for a few moments more to gather myself only to open them again and find ‘twas mid-morning.

Wondering why I had not been rousted, I finally found enough strength and focus to rise; the stiffness of my muscles telling me how long I had slept and the rumble of my belly indicating how long since I had eaten.

Deciding my hunger had to be taken care of first following a check-in with father and Gavian, I found the latter, much to my surprise, helping my battalion train the Naval troops on the upper observation deck by doing what he’d always done for my soldiers—give them an actual gryphon foil who fought far better than the average Talon. He did so under the watchful eyes of a still-wounded Swift Strike and Private Mammatus, who later gave close-quarters blade and crossbow lessons she’d picked up in the PSD.

I was not reassured by the fact that the drills were with real blades, and that Gavian was even allowing their troops to try and target him with crossbows; ones that were firing some kind of dummy dart that left a colored streak on his feathers but did not harm him.

My own soldiers were trying out the wrist-mounted Naval crossbows as well to mixed results. The Corps had always disdained them, not just for their limited range and our (then) inability to reload them in battle, but for their violation of Corps combat doctrine—that having to alter flight to aim or launch them just made lightly-armored Corps soldiers more vulnerable when their lethality and survivability were based on speed, agility and constant maneuver.

But the Naval ones seemed to at least partially compensate for that with their admittedly impressive stopping power. I’d seen at least one squad-launched volley—or excuse me, ‘squadron’-launched—punch through even Fortis Knight armor during the cavern battle, and ‘twas certainly an excellent equalizer for their lower skill level in aerial fights. It also gave the clearly inferior Naval soldiers at least one point where they could boast superiority over our own, giving lessons on their use in return.

Regardless, with my body stiff and achy from extended sleep, to say nothing of the battering I had taken—methinks the Naval healers who had treated me were in disbelief that I was still alive after the Magus lightning strike!—I did not participate in the training beyond simply observing, surprised briefly by the “Attention on Deck!” call and salute from the Naval pegasi that greeted my appearance.

“As you were,” I told them, taking my place beside Swift Strike as Gavian continued to lecture the Naval troops about gryphon weaknesses in flight and armor, showing them by example what he could and could not do in comparison to pegasi.

“Commander,” my equally bleary-eyed Black Lance friend acknowledged me as he watched the drills and the remaining Loyalty crew worked around us. They were stowing supplies and tending damage to the ship; as I watched, a few small breaks in the rigging and tears in the dirigible balloons were patched by brave earth ponies and dockworker pegasi alike. “How are you?”

“Alive,” I told him, to which he could only smile and chuckle. “And how fare you, Sky Sergeant?”

“Alive... but embarrassed,” he replied to my surprise. “And very chagrined. For the longest time, I thought myself untouchable. I survived sixteen years and forty missions for the Lances without suffering more than a few scratches to the Ravens or any other gryphon soldiers.

“But then I suffered no less than three major hits during the Epsilon battles—and worse, one was to the Talons.” He shook his head as he displayed his bandaged wounds to me, which included not just a pair of deep slashes to his side and left foreleg, but a scorched and shrapnel-peppered left side of his face. “Methinks either they’re getting better, or I’m getting older.”

“And methinks you took on an entire army down there,” I reminded him. “Just surviving their onslaught was impressive enough.”

“For you as well, ma’am,” he rejoined with the barest hint of mirth. “To say nothing of Gavian. To see him now, methinks there is little more he can learn from me. My student is now a teacher.” He gestured to Gavian, his gaze once more focusing on my son. “In the space of but eight short months, he has truly come into his own as a warrior.” His tone turned wistful for a moment.

“‘Tis certain he would be delighted to hear that,” I told him, both gratified and troubled by the praise, the latter for what it would mean to Gavian—would he now be fighting on the frontlines against his own race? What would that do to him? Or to me to see the gryphon I called my son risk his life like that? “And ‘tis to your great credit as well.”

“Excuse me. Commander?” A stallion’s voice with a mild Swheatish accent broke into our thoughts, calling to me from behind.

We turned in some surprise at that. I recognized the voice immediately, but I thought—or had assumed—he and his comrades had already left the ship. “Silver Seax”, I acknowledged the head of our now-former earth pony maintenance crew. He was with the surviving members of the group; their long blonde manes and beards looking a little out of place amongst all the military crew cuts.

“’Tis good to see you again and I am gratified to find you safe. You and your kin fought very well in the Epsilon battles, and be assured I will see that you are recognized and decorated for it. I would be more than happy to recommend you all be given immediate ranks and station in the Equestrian Army if you wish.”

He bowed his head at that. “Thank you, ma’am. Though our efforts were not without loss.” Pain showed on his face for but a moment, his sentiments echoed by the solemn nods but mostly stoic expressions of his brothers.

I nodded solemnly myself. “I understand you lost three of your kindred in the Vault battles. I’m truly sorry,” I told them, bowing my head at the deaths of such fine and stalwart stallions. Our earth pony maintenance crew consisted of friends and siblings from three separate Swheatish families, who, they had once told me, had volunteered for service in the desert frontier so they could get ‘as far away from the beasts and blizzards’ of their homeland as possible, finding the warmer and much more arid climate of the gryphon border to their liking.

“But they—and you—have my thanks for staying with us until the end,” I continued. “I heard from Swift Strike and Spear Sergeant Steelheart what you did. ‘Tis certain we could not have held the cavern during the midnight battle without you.”

“You flatter us, Ma’am,” he replied, sparing a glance at the sparring sessions between my soldiers and the naval troops, who were always coming out on the worst end of the exchanges—no surprise given their relative lack of training and the skill of my soldiers. “Be assured our brothers will be remembered and honored. But to help us do so, we have a request.”

“A request? What is it you wish of me?” I asked, reflecting on the time I had known them. They had originally been hired as civilian contractors following the Hearth’s Warming raider attack the previous year, assigned to Epsilon to rebuild and enlarge the base following the destructive—and very bloody—raid.

Though they kept to themselves at first, having never been around the military or so many pegasi before, they had gradually opened up and had been eventually accepted by my troops for their excellent work and surprising musical talents, which we had drawn upon during our farewell-to-arms party that was supposed to mark the breakup of our battalion just before the war started.

He looked back at his brothers before replying, receiving some nods from them. “We have been asked to leave the ship and join the civilian efforts below. But we do not wish to,” he told me. “We’ve been talking, ma’am, and we’ve decided that to honor the sacrifice of our brothers and do our duty to Equestria… we wish to stay here, on board the Loyalty.”

“I see…” I said cautiously, touched yet troubled by the gesture. They were excellent warriors and handiponies who were certainly good in a fight, as skilled with their axes as they were with their musical instruments and worker tools. But to risk even more of their males when they had already sacrificed so many…? “’Tis appreciated, but ‘tis not my choice to make, I’m afraid.”

He bowed his head at that. “We are aware, Commander. But we would ask that you wouldst put in a good word for us with Captain Shady. Tell her we would volunteer to work down in engineering or in whatever capacity she deems proper. We learn quickly and this ship…” he looked around at the ongoing activity. “’Tis hard to explain, but we like it here. It simply feels to us that here—with all of you—is where we need to be.”

“I see…” I said again, though I really didn’t—earth ponies generally didn’t like flying, but these five wanted to stay here on a Naval vessel? “Then have you spoken to Flash Fix about working in engineering?”

To my surprise, they all gave knowing grins. “We have. And given we fixed his still, and perchance even improved his brew, methinks he will have no objection to our presence.”

“Methinks it also helped that we bested all his crew in repair drills and Flash Fix himself in axe throwing accuracy,” one of his brothers added with a smirk, pulling an axe to twirl it around his hoof.

I couldn’t help but smile as well as the swordplay increased behind me. I turned to see Gavian taking down an entire flight of naval pegasi in rapid succession, knocking them to the deck with the flat of his blade before lecturing them on what they did wrong, to the cheers and laughter of the Corps soldiers. “Very well, then. I will see what I can do. Ultimately, this is Captain Shady’s ship, but methinks I have no objection to your presence if ‘tis truly what you wish. Methinks I might like to hear some of your songs again, too. They were very rousing and an excellent boost to morale.”

“Perchance that could be arranged, ma’am.” Silver Seax grinned broadly. “’Tis certain we’ve been working on additional songs, including one inspired by the Epsilon defense. And ‘twill be our pleasure to present it when the time is right.”

That the time would come soon was perchance not much of a surprise, but ‘tis certain the service it provided in support of future war efforts was! I do not know if their songs were born of Harmony, but at times it certainly felt like it, given their surprising effects and how rousing to the spirit they oft were!

That they were, Captain. I admit I was dubious when you presented them to me, and in truth, ‘twas only Flash Fix who swayed me, saying that “any pony who can fix my still and improve me spirits is a pony worth keeping!”, adding that they’d indeed shown the ability to conduct repairs and pick up the shipcrafts they’d need quickly.

They were named civilian adjuncts of the crew and eventually given brevet naval ranks, though methinks I did insist that they cut their manes if they wished to stay aboard!

A fine set of stallions indeed, Captain. I have yet to hear their music, though I am told by those gryphons who have that their ballads are very rousing to both the mind and spirit.

Greetings again to all pony and gryphon readers alike. This is Ambassador Kaval speaking now, taking some time to contribute a brief section of my own before I depart to see off Queen Jeyenne this evening. I admit I do not know of what you speak when you say that you once acted dishonorably by the standards of both sides, Captain, and I can only assume that the fact that you left it in your draft for me to read meant that you wished me to see it.

Be assured, you are many things to me, but ‘dishonorable’ is a label I would never attach to you or the Equestrian side in general. One of many reasons I eventually gave up the life of a soldier for that of a diplomat, seeking to atone for my own dishonorable acts during the war.

Black Knight

7th Talon Legion Headquarters
Town Hall, Occupied Mareasses
200 miles inside Equestria and 35 miles east of Thestralslovakian border
September 3rd, 1540 hours

Twas only three days into the war, and our advance in multiple sectors was already severely disrupted.

The losses in the north and stalled campaign in the center due to the stubborn resistance of Outpost Gamma forced some hasty reorganization of the most battered of the lead legions, with two fresh ones being brought up quickly to take over the advance. The 5^th and 16^th legions had to be pulled back after losing a combined forty percent of their numbers, with their heavy losses suffered in consuming the first two lines of the pony defense.

The 5th’s losses were due to insufficient Knight support and savage resistance at Trottingham and two Army bases, whilst the 16th’s were attributable to a ‘staggering level of idiocy and incompetence’ on the part of its commanders, to quote Prelate Gaius himself.

The south, as stated before, ‘twas another matter. Under the command of the cunning and aggressive Legate Romelus, The 6^th and 7^th legions had exceeded all expectations in their drive south and west, overrunning several major cities and penetrating nearly seventy leagues into pony territory. Their combined wave had rolled all the way up to the foot of the Applelachian mountains, thus presenting us with our first real dilemma: The bat-ponies that lived beyond the heights.

Chiefly, whether to engage them now, or later. And whether engaging them would mean diplomacy or warfare.

The question was weighing heavily on the Prelate’s mind as we paired his trip to the north with one to the south the following day, meeting Legate Romelus herself at her improvised headquarters at the Mareasses Town Hall.

When we arrived, we found her forces patrolling the streets whilst the remaining ponies huddled in fear inside their abodes, unseen except for a few furtive glances out windows. To her credit, she had taken the town swiftly and nearly intact; there was little to mark the change of ownership except a few shattered doors and windows plus a lightning scorch mark here and there.

Having crushed Fort Feathertop and destroyed the Corps garrison there, to say nothing of getting the town’s militia garrison to surrender without a fight to a simple show of force, she’d completely cowed the civilians and was meeting no resistance to her occupation for it—unlike our efforts further north, where the Prelate had ordered the raider leaders beheaded for exceeding orders and slaughtering civilians, directing they be publicly executed before the residents of Baltimare and Fillydelphia in hopes of quelling their anger.

It remained to be seen whether that would work, and ‘twould be several weeks before the ports would be cleared for use by our forces thanks to the overzealous raider efforts. And in a further complicating factor, there had been at least one zebra ship caught in the crossfire whilst docked offshore of Baltimare, with crew killed; ‘twas certain that word would get back to Zebrica and diplomatic protests would result.

Such matters would have to be dealt with later, however. Having defrocked one Legion commander, the Prelate wished to decorate another as well as discuss future operations with her. That the 7th Talon Legion had performed so well was a point of particular pride for Salvio Gaius, given that it had once been his legion during the war with the Elder Rams.

“Greetings, Prelate!” the sky gryphon named Urban Romelus exclaimed with both pride and affection as he entered, snapping him an immediate salute. She had been the Prelate’s talon-picked successor for command of his old legion, and ‘twas no question she had done him proud. “I hope this day finds you well. I have followed the news from other sectors with great interest, and should you wish my services on other fronts, be assured I can take command of them instantly,” she offered along with some tea and the town’s local cider, which I had already sampled and found far too weak.

“And ‘tis to your great credit, Legate. ‘Tis one of many things I wish to discuss with you,” the Prelate replied with a smile, returning the salute crisply. He next offered his successor a very warm and comradely clasp, to the scowling disapproval of the Primarch. “Your success here is beyond all measure and provides us with a unique opportunity. Though I feel I must offer you at least a slight rebuke for exceeding your objectives and passing out of communications range. Methinks you caused a great deal of consternation at headquarters, Legate.” He raised an eyeridge at her. “They took to calling you the Phantom Legion afterwards.”

Her grin only got broader. “I will pass that along to my forces! Methinks we will wear that title as a badge of honor, my lord!”

“As well they should. But having discharged that tiresome duty, there is more I wish you to wear now!” he said with a smile and nod to me.

I smiled in return, sitting back and unfurling a scroll. “Legate Romelus! For such superb service to the Empress, accomplishing a feat far exceeding even the grandest designs of our initial operations, you are recognized as a true warrior and commander! And for it, by order of the Prelate, you are hereby promoted… to sub-Consul!” I affixed her new cape and rank insignia as she stood at attention, trying not to beam as I stepped back and she received additional armor pieces from the Prelate’s other aides.

“You honor me, sir!” She saluted the Prelate again once they were affixed as well.

“‘Tis well earned,” the Prelate said with great warmth. “And for it, ‘tis now time to discuss your next assignment. Your achievements here have given us a unique opportunity as we sit on the cusp of the thestral lands. Methinks the question now is, how best to exploit it.” He went over to her map table, studying it carefully.

Her smile turned predatory at that. “Methinks you know exactly how to exploit it, Prelate! So what is there to discuss? We have a strong salient, so let us use it! As I now bear sufficient rank, give me the 6th and 12th legions in addition to the 7th! Let me drive west with them now!” Romelus eagerly offered.

“Directly into bat-pony lands?” the Prelate challenged with a raised eyeridge.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then caught herself. “I am aware you seek their alliance, my lord, but given our successes here, why bother? Methinks we must fight them eventually, so why not now? My forces are flush with victory and stand both ready and eager to continue the advance!

“If successful, we can not only knock their entire race and nation out of the war, but turn the entire pony defense! We could conduct a grand encirclement, and trap the bulk of their forces to the east of the Lunar Sea!” She stabbed with a talon at the map, then made a sweeping motion from our current location to the north.

“Think of it, Prelate… we could not only knock the bat-ponies out of the war before they can truly enter it, but pocket all the Equestrian forward forces, turning their own prepared lines of defense and chokepoints into their undoing!” Romelus insisted eagerly. “And for it, we could force them to forfeit a third of their nation and most of their military at little cost!”

“A tempting proposition…” the Prelate agreed, his expression thoughtful. “But not without potentially great danger. That would cause the thestrals to immediately side with Celestia and could complicate our operations if Equestrian forces suddenly acquire a strong night-fighting capability. We also know less about bat-pony numbers and tactics than I would like, and I am doubtful that just three legions would be equal to the task of subduing them,” he mused.

The newly-minted Sub-Consul looked insulted for a moment and was about to speak before Gaius held up a halting paw. “‘Tis not a slight against you or your Talons, Sub-Consul. ‘Tis simply that the Owls were not able to gain much intelligence on them aside from some basic information on their two factions and the mutual enmity between them. And lacking that, a direct invasion with available forces seems unwise. ‘Tis why I seek to co-opt at least one side of them instead of simply sweeping them aside. They are predators like us, and by all reports, they hate Equestria and Celestia as much as we do.”

Romelus shook her head sharply at that. “Mayhap they are predators, and perchance they have no love for Celestia, but they are still ponies! We do not need their help, and methinks we should not take the chance that they may yet side with Equestria despite our overtures!

“So let us invade their lands now, Prelate, before they have a chance to fully mobilize! I acknowledge their skill in night fights, but even our limited intelligence shows they lack heavy weapons and any real daytime combat capability! So if necessary, we can go to ground at night and crush them during the day!” she claimed, punctuating her statement with a clenched claw that pounded on the table, her eyes gleaming with fierce confidence and warrior fire.

The Prelate smiled again at that, only to finally shake his head. “Your aggressive instincts and strategic vision do you great credit, Sub-Consul. But no,” he decided at some length. “We simply do not have enough intelligence to risk it. We already have multiple overtures to the thestral factions in progress, and ‘twould be dishonorable to attack before they are answered. If we can co-opt just one side of them, Equestria’s entire forward defense likewise crumbles at little cost to us.”

Her expression dropped. “And if they later side with Celestia, Equestria’s entire forward defense is greatly strengthened and our advance becomes far more difficult,” she reminded him. “The risks of waiting must also be weighed, my lord.”

“I understand your concerns, sub-Consul, but I do not fear them siding with Celestia. Not when they have their own internal schism and shortly, a civil war to deal with.” He smiled thinly. “They are a house divided, and thus, with but a little prodding, they will turn on each other and then consume their own nation from within. And when they do? We will be able to open a second front towards Canterlot, threatening them with a massive pincer attack from two directions. Then the only question becomes, whether the northern or southern prong reaches the Equestrian capital first!” He smiled at the prospect.

“For now, sub-Consul, your forces will continue the drive south, with a goal of encircling thestral lands and invading the Campelonian provinces on the other side. But you will not be there to lead them,” he told her, gaining her immediate attention. “I will indeed avail myself of your offer to lend your services elsewhere. For ‘tis certain I need your keen military mind on other fronts.”

“My Lord!” she exclaimed, her disappointment instantly forgotten. “And what does the Prelate wish of me, then?”

He smiled again, pulling out and unrolling a different map, this one showing all of northeast Equestria. “As other sectors of our offensive have enjoyed far less success, I direct you to take command of a newly forming Grand Legion that comprises the northern wing of our advance. Your initial command will include four damaged legions along with two fresh ones, as well as a full millenium of Knights with Owl and Raven adjuncts. Before you ask, be assured you have both my confidence and full authority to make any changes in command or organization that you see fit.”

Her red-feathered chest and head puffed out proudly, immediately drawing the Prelate’s gaze; there were times I wondered if Salvio Gaius’ interest in her was, in fact, somewhat personal given he seemed to favor both red feathers and keen intellects in his eaglesses. “I will carry out my new orders to the best of my ability, sir! And my objectives?”

He smiled broadly as he beheld the grand scale of his own design. “Sweep all before you. Take Maresk and Fort Ironheart, and then drive all the way to the Celestial and Lunar Seas,” he said succinctly, his eyes taking a predatory gleam as he tapped several locations on the map in turn.

“Crush the Ursa Naval Base and capture Detrot if you can, but your primary objective is here!” He tapped the area between the two seas. “Seize the Shetlandian Isthmus between the lakes before the ponies can set a defense and then break out into Wiscoltson! If you can do so, then we bypass the bulk of their potential battle lines!

“Success means that not only will the Equestrian breadbasket of the Unicorn Plains lie before us undefended, but the northern route to Canterlot will be wide open!” he proclaimed, leaving me in immense admiration of his strategy; one ‘tis certain I would never have thought of myself: he was disdaining the more direct and obvious southern drive between the Lunar Sea and Foal Mountains for a grand flanking maneuver using the lakes to the north; one that—if successful—would unhinge the entire Equestrian defense and seize their fertile farmlands for us just as harvest was reached.

“A brilliant plan! For Empress and Ancestors, it will be done!” she gave him the ritual response with a salute and bared throat. She then invited him to a private dinner followed by a tour of her new headquarters neither I nor the increasingly annoyed Primarch was invited on.

To perchance little surprise, they retired early behind a cordon of guards and we did not see either of them again until we departed the following morning.

Thank you as always, Ambassador. As much as we vilified Salvio Gaius during the war, alternately seeing him as an evil incarnate or a mad military genius, ‘tis sometimes good to know that he had a softer side; that he was in fact capable of desire and affection as well. I also note he was just as capable of recognizing good battlefield performance as poor, and rewarding the latter appropriately—the mark of a good commander.

Yes, looking back, I did leave that passage in so you wouldst see it. And for it, after having discussed it with those ponies who know of what dishonor I speak, I formally request a meeting with you. And I further request that it come before the Queen departs.

Whilst I await your response, I will end this chapter myself, with the Loyalty on her final approach to Lake Luna and the Thestralslovakian border.

Nightfall [Evilfeast - From the Northern Wallachian Forest... Tyranny Returns]

EAS Loyalty
North Shore of Lake Luna
September 3rd, 1139 AC
1840 hours

As we closed the distance to thestral lands, the mood aboard the Loyalty got progressively more tense.

The Foal Mountains that marked their northern border were now visible in the distance as we approached at dusk, with the peaks masked by their ever-present mists. ‘Twas within those mists we suspected a wounded Cloudsdale lay hidden, but we were not reassured by the fact that no patrols or pegasi came out to meet us, which was odd and perchance alarming given there were supposed to be at least two battalions of Corps forces now present there.

Crystal communication hails were likewise not answered as we got closer, either from Cloudsdale or the thestrals, even upon diplomatic channels reserved for the latter’s use.

‘Twas not to say we had no news in the meantime, though. Reports were filtering in from all over Equestria of Imperial operations, and the news was mostly grim, particularly in the south. And worse, to my great consternation, there was no word yet from Fort Spur save that she had indeed been struck but still stood.

‘Twas perchance at least mildly reassuring, but I still had no idea if my beloved sister Wind Whistler was alive, save for what I somehow sensed in my heart. I did not, however, have the same feeling when it came to my mentor, but I shoved that fear as deep down within me as I could.

For there was a war to fight, and I could not dwell on losses, either real or prospective given the unknown and potentially dangerous situation we were heading into. After lunch with Gavian, who made it known he wished to be given some role or duty on the airship, I found myself seeking solace from my fears and began making the rounds again, finding the infirmary still full of wounded and my soldiers slowly absorbing the events of the past few days.

Once we were underway and combat air patrol was set between the Naval air wing and my then-sixty effectives, Captain Shady pulled in all senior staff of both services to discuss what we would do given various scenarios of our arrival at Lake Luna and Cloudsdale’s suspected position.

Our orders were to avoid conflict, which we would do our best to abide by. But in the end, we knew not how the thestrals would take our presence. By the letter of the sovereignty settlement they had signed with Celestia—which we took great pains to review in our meeting to make sure we knew its terms—they were required to allow Equestrian military forces free passage in time of war, so in theory, they could do nothing regardless of whether they wanted us there.

But could the bat-ponies be trusted to keep their side of the treaty? What if they ignored it and attacked us for breaking their borders, perchance hoping to curry favor with the gryphons? We agreed that we would arrive already at General Quarters, and if conflict was forced upon us, we would not surrender—we would fight our way out and then report our reception to high command, giving them the unhappy news that we were now at war with Thestralslovakia as well as the Empire.

‘Twould be a last resort, however, as we continued hailing the thestrals and Cloudsdale, advising them of our approach. We had just made it to Lake Luna and crossed into thestral lands when our patrols sighted Cloudsdale not far to the west, just visible at sunset through the mountain mists. But before we could sail for her or make contact, we suddenly found ourselves swarmed by half a millennium of dark-furred thestral soldiers, their eyes glowing like embers in the deepening dusk.

We had neither seen nor sensed their approach despite our patrols, as they had apparently hid inside the mists and nearby floating clouds, hanging by their wing talons from their undersides and then closing on us from all directions.

They had us, and we were shortly hailed by their leader, who alit on the forward observation deck with a full squad of her brethren and demanded to speak to the Captain. Agreeing with an order to my father to seal the ship and ignite the ballonet defenses on her orders, Shady shortly exited the bridge to meet them, flanked by me and Fell Flight as well as the ship’s Mare-at-Arms, who was equipped with more weapons than I would have thought possible on a single pony.

‘Twas my first time seeing full thestrals, and ‘tis certain they did give me pause—large membrane wings, predatory eyes and teeth, and a general air about them that told me they were well-trained soldiers, anxious but not afraid.

And not to be taken lightly. At first glance, they were only lightly armed and armored, wearing treated animal hides for the latter whilst lacking wingblades for the former. But in their place, they had their own wrist-mounted crossbow variant and twin curved short blades on their belts not far removed from what unicorns used, and the manner in which they moved and flew was… unique. Different than either pegasi or gryphons, leaving me unable to immediately read their fighting styles or how best to counter them.

All this was noted in passing as their leader set her eyes on each of us in turn; her gaze lingering on Fell Flight briefly in what almost seemed contempt as she recognized her eyes, causing those of my second to narrow. “I am Colonel Aegir Ale of the Nightborne Army. You are in violation of the border, Equestrians,” she warned in a noticeable Romareian accent.

“For which we apologize, but be assured our intentions are peaceful,” Shady answered easily with a placating bow of her head, though I caught a flash of anger in her eyes. “I am Captain—”

“We know who you are,” the Colonel cut her off hard, sparing another contemptuous look at the rest of us. Her eyes narrowed again as she set them on Fell Flight, whose anger was quickly growing along with my own at the blatant disrespect shown to not just her, but all of us.

To say nothing of their open flouting of the treaty, as her next words made clear: “And ‘tis not important. All that matters is that you are now in thestral lands, in violation of our sovereignty settlement with your Princess! And for it, you are ordered to set down your ship in Lake Luna and surrender yourselves immediately to our custody…”

“I am a Soldier. I fight where I am told, and I win where I fight.” —General George S. Patton

Author's Notes:

Hey, folks. I didn’t collect all prereads for this one, for which I apologize to certain prereaders, but I really wanted to this done in time to release on Veteran’s Day here in the USA and Armistice Day elsewhere, marking the 101st anniversary of the end of “The War to End All Wars” which wasn’t--The Great War, aka World War I. As you read this, consider the sacrifices of countless soldiers that allow us to enjoy the freedoms, liberties and lifestyle we currently enjoy, and remember that the old saying is forever true: “Good people sleep soundly because rough men stand read to do violence on their behalf.” The job of the soldier is unending and too often thankless, but no less necessary for it.

As promised, I reordered the chapters slightly to put the Equestrian War Declaration immediately before this chapter. I also did a mild retcon on the previous chapter to make Legate Romelus an Eagless, for reasons that should be quite apparent from this chapter.

Thanks as always go to Silentwoodfire, Leo Archon, AJ_Aficionado, and Denim_Blue for reading and commenting on the Google Doc. This chapter came to me surprisingly quickly and easily, which is always a good sign. Read and enjoy, and then light a candle to mark the day.

Part 21 - Brinksponyship

Well, Captain.

I have read through the documents you passed me, and I admit I was stunned by what they revealed. ‘Twas indeed a grave injustice they indicated—an injustice that we, by extension, became complicit in simply for believing the EIS-fueled deceptions regarding it. We truly had no idea.

There is but one survivor on the gryphon side of that action, and due to the dishonor unjustly attached to his name for it, he lives in solitude and ‘tis said by the Council of Crows that he has not spoken a single word since the war’s end, bearing a magically locked compass that only he knows how to unseal.

And yet, having had a week to ponder this, I cannot be angry. For we, too, engaged in such deceptions and deliberate attempts to deny honor, and for much the same reasons as the Equestrian side. I have discussed these revelations at length with Queen Jeyenne, catching up with her airship as it passed over the Celestial Sea. We agree that if inevitable gryphon outrage is to be assuaged, we must do two things:

First, we must do our utmost to rectify the injustice done, and second, we must offer up evidence of our own dishonorable conduct in this regard. ‘Twill take some time for the Crows to dig out the documentation necessary from the Office of Owl archives, so I ask for your patience as well.

I do request, however, to be put into private contact with your former second regarding this, as ‘tis certain the information I wish to share is some she would be very interested—and likely quite furious—to hear.

As you wish, Ambassador. I admit to some trepidation in presenting this information to you, worried it might hurt our nations’ new alliance or fatally wound our personal friendship. I am relieved it did not, though I confess to be given some pause when I saw a momentary gleam in your eye that I last remembered from one of our final wartime duels. I likewise know not of what you speak, though the knowledge that it somehow involves Fell Flight does give me at least one clue. And for it, methinks it best to allow her to deal with and decide what to do about it.

As to why I finally elected to reveal this Equestrian dishonor, ‘twas brought about by the class discussion I mentioned in the previous entry. I decided I could not fairly discuss honor with them without fully disclosing my own dishonorable acts in the course of the war, of which I consider complicity in this cover-up to be a major example. I know not what can be done for them now so long after the fact, but ‘tis my most fervent hope that justice delayed, even for a matter of three decades, is not justice denied.

Unfortunately, methinks there is little else I can do about it for now except wait for the Kingdom’s response and what I assume to be Fell Flight’s inevitable explosion when she learns of what you speak. If you wish me present for it, I will be there.

He has already been in touch with me, Captain, and told me of what he speaks! And for it, I am indeed appalled and infuriated at the injustice done, to say nothing of the ripping open of an old wound!

As much as I may wish to, I cannot say more for now, except that I have a great deal of work to do to even partially rectify this terrible wrong! Unfortunately, it cannot begin in earnest until I receive the gryphon documentation promised to me. And for it, I request to pick up the pen again for the next section, if for no other reason than distraction from my own anger and impatience, which I fear is spilling over into my home life as I find myself snapping at my foals and every member of my herd for no good reason.

You may recall that I was present as the thestrals greeted us on the forward deck, and that my eyes and mixed heritage made me a particular target of their ire. So methinks I will spend some of my own through the retelling of this scene.

By all means. Carry on, my friend. And I need not tell you that if you wish my help, you have it.

Thank you, Captain. But before we begin, ‘tis a minor story I should relate. One regarding Sky Sentry, and one that, methinks, I would not bother with or barely remember but for the news delivered to me this day by the ambassador; news that has rekindled my fury at the ex-Empire anew.

I will keep it brief, however, as in honor of his memory and the battle bonds we shared—methinks I told him some things during our time together in the Bolt Knights that I never told anypony else—I would rather his future actions speak for him as much as possible.

EAS Loyalty
Airspace over middle Ohioat Province
120 miles north of Lake Luna on Thestralslovakian border
September 3rd, 1139 AC
1550 hours

Methinks I lasted longer than most of the battalion survivors in holding off sleep, having had plenty of experience not resting for days on end from my time at Outpost Omega.

But eventually, exhaustion caught up with me as well near daybreak that third morn of war, and I, too, slept long and hard when all was said and done, leaving command of Epsilon’s remaining effectives to our ranking unwounded platoon leader—Aves Osprey. Possessing more nocturnal habits, I went to bed at dawn and awoke to the ship’s middle afternoon departure, feeling it lurching and accelerating as we lifted off from Ursa base.

After a check-in with the commander and ship’s captain—who told me that with patrols already set, my services were not needed before our arrival—I decided ‘twas best to see to my own needs and help train the Naval troops, which we were doing in shifts on the topmost decks when they were not patrolling, eating or sleeping. The former took precedence over the latter, however, as my hunger got the best of me and I headed down to the ship’s galley to eat.

‘Twas sparsely attended as ‘twas away from normal mealtimes, but methinks I did not mind. The naval troops and crew, I had noted, were very wary around me for my eyes. ‘Twas certainly a reaction I was used to, but perchance not one I appreciated at an occasion I thought I might like some company.

Now that we had some distance from Epsilon and I’d had time to process the battles we’d fought there, I felt not anger, but sorrow and worry trying to take hold of me. Worry for my nation; for my family. Worry over not knowing the fate of my compatriots at Outpost Omega, who, I was informed by the bridge’s communications officer, Corps command had lost all contact with after nightfall on the first day of war and was presumed lost along with the rest of the border bases except for Gamma.

‘Twas a bitter pill to swallow no matter how expected it was, as well as the knowledge that we would never know Omega’s final hours or the toll they exacted. All I did know was that my promised command was gone and all my old comrades killed. And ‘twas also to say nothing of the still-unknown fate of my family at Cloudsdale, or my earth pony coltfriend in invaded and occupied Baltimare. The former I might learn shortly, given we were heading out in search of my foalhood home, but the latter…

Seeking some sanctuary from my own dark and brooding thoughts, I spotted Sky Sentry eating by himself in a corner, now wearing a borrowed naval uniform with his Guardspony Sergeant stripes affixed and picking at his meal—if I’d learned nothing else about Naval vessels to that point, ‘twas that their food was certainly several cuts above Outpost Epsilon fare; the double-helping of cloud creole I was balancing on a wing platter was sorely tempting me with its smell.

And yet, my hunger was forgotten as I beheld the only survivor of Outpost Delta. He looked slightly less haggard than he had the day before, perchance as a result of the Harmony-fueled song I had heard the previous night—‘twould be a lie to say that I had not been touched by it or joined in the chorus, as oddly embarrassing as it felt after—but he still looked uncertain, even given the undeniable answer he sought.

Warrior Heart

So much so, in fact, he did not hear the clop of my hooves as I approached. “Sergeant Sentry,” I addressed him, causing him to start and look up at me, then throw a hasty salute. “May I join you?”

He looked uncertain as I returned the gesture. “If you wish, Master Sergeant,” he replied, his voice dull, perchance deciding not to say anything as he had a lower rank and no authority to deny me anyway.

“Thank you.” I nodded and sat down opposite him, sliding my platter off onto the table before affixing a fork attachment to my hoof. “Forgive me if you are tired of hearing this, but I must ask: how fare you?”

“Lost,” he told me bluntly, leaving me wondering how he still could be after the song, at least until he shortly explained: “I know now what I must do. But...” At this he paused, his eyes resting on his mostly untouched food, as though hoping it might somehow miraculously have the answers to his dilemma. Clearly it did not, as he let out a weary sigh before continuing, “But I know not how to do it. How to rediscover my warrior’s heart,” he told me, then shook his head and bowed it. “Or even that I ever had one to begin with.”

“Tis certain you did and still do,” I told him sternly, suddenly seeing a reflection of my own conflicts within him; I felt compelled to remind myself that whatever I had lost, ‘twas pale in comparison to all that he had. “’Tis certain your many wounds and the conduct of the cavern battles are evidence enough of that. Methinks even the commander respects you, and ‘tis no little thing,” I quickly pointed out.

He barely reacted to the compliment, initially giving only a grunt in reply. “Mayhap you are right, and ‘twas a time that I would have been delighted for it,” he eventually answered dully. “But now? ‘Tis no longer important. I seek an inner fire but find only ashes. I have no desire to fight, for all those I would have fought for and beside have already fallen.”

“All of them?” I challenged. “You wouldst not fight for your foal? You wouldst not fight beside the commander, for as much as you desired her?”

He went startled at the former, then blushed at the latter as his eyes met mine briefly before he turned his gaze back down. “M-Master Sergeant, that’s not—” He looked flustered for a moment.

“Forgive me,” I told him with a disarming grin. “She once told me of your original challenge to her, and its terms. Be not embarrassed about it. For as much as I would have enjoyed seeing her lose it, methinks there were times she regretted winning as well, as she spoke almost wistfully of you when she recounted the tale. Methinks that for as well as you dueled her, she saw you as worthy of the Guard—and of her.”

“‘Tis certain I do not feel worthy now,” he told me, even as the fleeting ghost of a smile touched his face. “If I was, methinks I would not be falling to pieces at every opportunity and feeling unable to fight.”

“You are grieving, Sergeant,” I reminded him, surprising myself as I reached across the table to take his hoof in my own. “’Tis normal and natural. And very necessary. I cannot tell you how many comrades and friends I lost at Omega over the years. To say nothing of how many ‘tis certain I lost in the past two days,” I felt a sudden hitch in my voice, then swallowed it.

“But though I will remember and treasure them, I will not dwell on them. And the fact that they have fallen does not mean I can no longer fight for them. Far from it, in fact. I will honor their memories the only way I can—by fighting on in their names. By helping to win this war, and thus ensuring they did not fall in vain.”

“And is it really that easy?” he asked me, tears glimmering in his eyes again. “Just go on and fight for them like nothing happened? Like I didn’t see them all die before me whilst I was unable to save them?” His voice raised a little, the faintest hints of anger now entering his words for a moment before he exhaled a shaky breath.

I had to consider that. “Mayhap for me ‘tis indeed easier. For Omega was always a wartime post, even before the invasion,” I noted idly. “’Tis certain I lost many friends over the years there to raider action, oft slain before my eyes.”

“And do you ever think you should have died with them?” he asked me next, his anger once more gone, to which I could only close my eyes in response. “Fallen with all your friends?”

“Aye,” I admitted after a brief pause with a moment of pain. “Methinks had the war broken out but a week later, I would have indeed been there with them, commanding Omega against the invasion. But I am under no illusions, Sergeant—my presence ‘twould not have reversed the outcome against such skill or numbers as the gryphons had. ‘Tis certain I would have watched my command be slowly slaughtered before me until I, too, was claimed. Assuming, that is, that I did not fall earlier, as ‘tis never been my way to not be at the forefront of battle.”