"I should be at home making pots, we're no soldiers. We shouldn't even be here."
- Equestrian conscript, battle of Filly Delphia
A blue-furred satyr leaned back in his chair as a griffon droned on about the post-war history of Equestria. History wasn't Jax's strong suit, and to him, it was just simple propaganda written by the victors. Besides, it was painfully obvious when it was nothing more than plain nonsense if you looked a little deeper.
"And that class is how the mighty New Union defeated the princesses and the humans…" The Griffon lecturer finished off, scribbling a few keywords on the blackboard.
Jax's attention was far from the lesson. He glared at the clock on the classroom wall, hoping the seconds would tick faster. Only twenty minutes left, and he could finally escape this lecture.
"As we know, Celestia, in her final moments, cast a spell that returned all humans and their tech to their home world," the Griffon said, approaching Jax's desk and leaning in close. "Leaving behind their satyr bastards."
Having learned not to speak back from past experiences, Jax simply folded his arms and scowled in protest.
"But as we all can see, we let them into our education system, hoping to replicate human technology."
Jax glanced back at the clock, avoiding eye contact with the lecturer. The seconds seemed to drag slower than usual. He couldn't wait for the class to be dismissed.
"So far, there has been nothing promis-" The griffon slammed his talon down on Jax's desk with a loud thump, causing him to flinch back to reality. "Jax! For the last time! Listen up, Tartarus spawn. The Emperor has granted you the right to education, yet you throw it back in his face!" He stared down at the satyr. "Must I remind you - Again - that all satyrs who do not pass this year will end up in the mines!"
Before Jax could speak up, the bell rang, signaling the end of the final class for the day. The other students packed up their books and papers, and Jax followed suit.
"Right class, before you go, we will be studying the Changeling Rebellion, so read up on the Changeling invasion of Canterlot in pre-war history."
The griffon blocked Jax's quick escape by standing in his way, trapping him between two desks. "Jax, you're staying behind."
As ordered, Jax returned to his desk and slumped back down in the chair as his classmates filtered out of the room. Out of all six months of being in college, not one student had muttered a single word to him.
The lecturer griffon sighed, waiting for the last student to leave the classroom before shutting the door. Gently pulling the door closed with a click, he turned his attention to Jax.
"Jax, you need to focus in class. I can't keep forging your grades like this."
"I know, I know. But it's hard to focus, especially when the lesson is practically insulting," the satyr retorted.
"As I explained last week, it's propaganda. I have to show that I'm keeping you in your place. Trust me, I don't like doing it either."
"I can guess that, and I do understand somewhat." Jax sulked lower in his chair, seemingly defeated.
"Glad we agree. But can you at least go easier on me during the lectures?"
"No can do," the lecturer said, pulling out a small bottle from under his wing and placing it on the desk. "Anyway, rub this on your cheek and arms. It should cause a harmless red rash on your skin. Make it look like I roughed you up a bit."
Jax withheld a grumble that was brewing under his breath, knowing the griffon was cutting him a break. He grabbed the bottle and rubbed the liquid on his cheek and arms, causing them to redden with a light burning sensation.
The griffon inspected Jax's cheek and arms, satisfied with the outcome, he dismissed him in an almost military fashion. As Jax started to leave, he heard his lecturer speak up.
"Make sure you fake a limp on your way home! Gotta make it believable!" Following the request, Jax faked a limp as he made his way out.
A cool summer breeze washed over the satyr as he stepped outside onto the city streets. He paused to watch the hustle and bustle of Manehattan's busy life. Ponies, griffons, and minotaurs went about their daily business while the city guards watched over them.
Pulling on his backpack, Jax made his way along the busy streets, looking at the buildings. It was hard to imagine that a massive battle took place on these very streets nearly twenty years ago. Most of the buildings had been rebuilt or demolished to give way to new apartments that towered over the older ones. But the old buildings fascinated Jax; they showed the real history with their battle scars. He could see a few odd bullet holes and darkened brickwork that were a testament to what happened here.
Like clockwork, Jax spotted the minotaur guard patrol down the street, towering over the rest of Manehattan's inhabitants. Waiting for the guard to turn the other way, he slipped down an alleyway without being noticed. He quickly made his way down the littered path, checking over his shoulder to make sure he was not being followed.
After a few moments, Jax arrived at an old factory hidden between the new city blocks, its chimney billowing out smoke. It signaled that his friend of many years, Hammer Fell, was home or at work. Jax couldn't remember ever seeing Hammer Fell outside of the factory, so he wasn't sure if it was his friend's workplace or home.
Jax shrugged off the thoughts and knocked on the heavy iron doors. "Hammer Fell, it's me!"
"Jax?" A gravelly voice came from behind the iron doors.
"I need to talk to you."
"Hang on, boy. Didn't your mother teach you patience? Give me a moment to get these doors open."
Jax deadpanned at the reply, knowing full well that Hammer Fell knew his history. An eerie blue aura enveloped the doors, and with a loud, ear-piercing screech, they ground open to reveal an aged unicorn covered head to hoof in black soot, which obscured his faded blue coat and grey cropped mane.
"Are you busy?" Jax asked, peering past the unicorn to spot hundreds of New Union firearms stacked on gun racks along the side wall. He pushed past Hammer Fell to get a closer look at the newly made guns.
"I don't think busy is the word for it, boy," the old unicorn said, closing the doors behind him.
"Are you making those muskets now?" Jax asked, lifting one for closer inspection.
"Shh! If the guards catch you calling their guns that, they'll skewer you! They're called Griffins Thunder."
Jax stifled a chuckle upon hearing the ridiculous name. "So why are you making mus-griff... ugh... guns now?" He couldn't call them Griffins Thunder with a straight face.
"Well, it was a plan that backfired," the stallion unicorn said, wincing slightly at his slip of the tongue, as earlier, Griffon muskets were renowned for the risk of blowback when fired. "No pun intended, but to cut a long story short, I managed to get the blueprints you gave me to the last remaining free states for better guns. Your idea of putting grooves inside the barrel and lengthening it made the NU's Army lose hundreds of soldiers."
A cold shiver ran down Jax's spine as he heard the news about the last batch of weapons he helped design. Knowing he was responsible for hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths in a way, he shook off the thought. If it kept those in the Free States free, then some hope existed for Equestria.
"Well, as you can see, the NU got hold of one of those weapons and copied the design. Then, from there, they conscripted every blacksmith, gunsmith, and metalsmith to produce them as quickly as possible to replace their own," Hammer Fell explained, rubbing his head with his hooves, clearly stressed due to the workload. "So, what is it you want?"
Jax opened his backpack and pulled out a few scraps of paper and some photos. "I've been working on blueprints for replicas of human guns and even their 'bullets'..."
Hammer Fell's eyes shot open. "Come on, we can't talk here, especially about this." Snatching the papers and photos from the satyr with his magic, he looked over them in awe. "Follow me."
Descending to the basement, they entered a dark, damp room with old blueprints and photos of weaponry dotted around the walls, lit by a few lamps. Hammer Fell approached an old wooden table in the middle and waved Jax over.
"As you can see in the photo, that soldier there is carrying what they called a 'bolt-action' rifle. From what I read, they used to pull back on that lever to prime the gun." Jax ran his finger over the rough blueprints, using the old photos of human soldiers holding their weapons as a reference.
Hammer Fell sat in silence for a while, processing the information before perking up with a confused expression. "Where does the powder go?"
"Inside the old casings you gave me. The powder is inside the bullet. I'm honestly surprised you found them. I thought ALL human tech returned with them."
"Boy, you're smart, but you still need to learn to see the bigger picture."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you think Celestia would let a chance to advance her own military technology just slip by?"
"So, what happened? We could've won!" Jax threw his arms up in frustration.
"Let’s just say a few infamous humans didn't take borrowing human ideas too well and caused the Canterlot Vaults incident."
"I was always told it was the griffins who destroyed the Canterlot Vaults."
Hammer Fell raised his hoof to his face and sighed, shaking his head. "Boy... How in Tartarus could they sneak into Canterlot and a secret, high-security military base and plant a bomb big enough to wipe out three blocks of houses, and on top of that, make it out alive?"
"Oh..." Jax hadn't thought about that.
"The truth is, Celestia and Luna crafted the biggest cover-up in Equestrian history to save pony-human relations."
"So, do you reckon you can make a prototype?" Jax changed the subject.
"Prototype!?" Hammer Fell bolted upright and stared at the satyr, even though he had to look up to meet his gaze. "Do you know what will happen if I get caught? I would be... ugh, how did the humans put it... 'Fucked.' I would be stuffed in some underground bunker and interrogated, probably tortured for that information. The NU will freak out if these go into production in the Free States." A huge grin crossed his face. "And boy... I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Really?" Jax was taken aback by his long-winded answer.
"Certainly. I'll have something for you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes, tomorrow, and you need to get going too. Curfew will start soon."
"Curfew?"
"For Celestia's sake, boy, piss off. I've got work to do."
A magical aura enveloped Jax as the unicorn dragged him out of the basement and out through the iron doors. Jax tried to turn around to ask if he would need help, only to find the iron doors slamming in his face. With a sigh, the satyr turned on his hooves and made his way back to his college dorm – well, a glorified broom closet with a mattress, for that matter.