The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

28. Welcome to Whitewall

From her vigil on the wall, Plumline could see the sun rise. The limestone walls that gave Whitewall City its name had already begun to sparkle. The sunlight played off Plumline’s helmet and armor, casting shadows around the top of the wall. She stared at the sun as it rose, blinking away moisture as her eyes began to adjust to the light.

It had been nearly two weeks since the attack on Sel-Paloth. Plumline was still furious that she had not been with the Whitetail forces that moved to secure Trellow, but the medics had not seen fit to release her so soon. They were worried that she was mentally unfit for combat, still reeling from the deaths of her entire garrison. Plumline wanted nothing more than to join the army at Trellow to avenge her comrades, but instead she was stuck in Whitewall. At least she’d been able to convince the city watch’s Captain to let her stand guard on the walls. Otherwise, she’d still have been confined to the clinic.

She looked out over the forest to the south, dismayed to see that the black clouds of smoke from the day before had not yet faded away. The only thing that could have caused them was a wildfire, and with all the weatherforging pegasi tied up at Trellow, she was worried that it might spread to Whitetail Forest itself.

Another guard passed her, making his rounds. “The smoke clouds?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them too much. The last brushfire burned itself out in a few days without coming near the treeline.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Plumline began walking the other direction, pulling a clockwise circle around the outermost wall. Whitewall was a fortress city, and there were two great circular walls of limestone surrounding the keep. The first was forty meters high and smooth as glass. The interior wall was half again as tall, reaching up above the trees. The keep stood highest of all, poking its crenellations above the inner wall. The walls themselves were thick, nearly two and a half meters, and effectively impenetrable from the ground. All of the white limestone shone brilliantly during the daytime, creating a dazzling display of sunlight.

As Plumline came to the northern side of the city, she looked down to see if she could catch a glimpse of the Pale Lake. Fed by a river from the western arm of the Jotur mountains, the lakebed was the ancient quarry that had provided the stone used to build Whitewall. After the city’s construction was finished, the river’s course had been altered to flow inside the excavation. The dissolving limestone and the resulting discoloration of the water had given it its name.

The glassy surface of the lake remained undisturbed this morning. Nopony knew for sure how deep it was, after centuries of erosion. Plumline enjoyed walking the shores when she had the time, but with the invasion, she doubted there would be any.

She looked over at the north road. The road circled and twisted through the forest, eventually coming out to meet the Great Road in the west. Few travelers ever used it, for Whitewall was out of the way and had no great trading center. It was a remnant of the old days of the Gryphan Empire, built by the ponies of Whitetail to serve as a defense against the griffons’ easterly encroachments.

Plumline’s ear twitched, and she squinted down at the road. A pony had wandered around the curve from the forest. From this distance, she couldn’t make anything else out about them. Another pony joined the first, and then a dozen more, then a ceaseless mass of earth ponies, unicorns and pegasi alike, all of them headed straight for the city gates. The sun glinted off the golden armor of the pegasi in the lead, and Plumline finally realized what she was seeing. She reached a hoof down and lifted her horn, taking a deep breath and blowing it as loud as she could.

* * *

Windstreak was glad to see the gates of the city open in welcome as her troops approached. The bone-tired soldiers, cheered by the sight of their destination after days of punishing marching, moved quickly inside. She led the front of the march, entering the city’s gleaming walls alongside Bergeron and Wheatie. They were greeted at the gate by a group of unicorns dressed in fine robes.

A youthful-looking pony stepped forward as they arrived. “Welcome to Whitewall, Firewings. I am Lord Tymeo Bellemont, the city’s steward while the Duchess is away.”

“I am Captain Strudel of Her Majesty’s Firewings. This is Bergeron, and this is Wheatie.”

“So the army has returned! I take it there is good news from Trellow? Have we defeated the griffons yet?”

Windstreak stared apprehensively at the young unicorn. She’d been hoping for someone a little more… experienced. This pony was barely two years older than Rye. “I’m afraid not, Duke Bellemont.”

“Oh, no, I’m no Duke,” The unicorn laughed. “Though my mother would be thrilled if I were to marry Celerity, I doubt the old nag would ever accept such an offer.” His laughter faded as the Firewings stared at him. “It’s a common mistake, really. I’m just the steward.” Tymeo’s face fell as he slowly began to realize what was going on.

“Duke Bellemont, the battle of Trellow is over. The griffons are coming north. My troops are tired and hungry, and we need to prepare. I request your permission to garrison Whitewall until the griffons arrive.”

“D-Duke? But then—surely Duchess Belle is not—” The young Bellemont’s mouth worked soundlessly as he searched for words. He looked lost.

Windstreak had a sinking feeling. “Do we have your permission?”

“Of course, of course… We will see about accommodations for the soldiers. I… think I need to convene the city council to discuss this.” He bowed hastily and fled.

“Well, that could have gone better,” said Wheatie.

Bergeron cringed. “That’s the new Duke? He’s just a child.” He looked back over their shoulders at the army still trailing up the road. Whitetail troops were pouring into the city now, bedraggled and worn. The few Firewings mixed into their number saluted their Captain as they passed, and Windstreak returned the gesture.

“This doesn’t bode well for us,” said Windstreak. “I was hoping to hand the reins over to the new Duke, but… clearly that’s no longer our best option.”

“You’ve led us this far, Captain,” said Wheatie. “We’ll follow you to the end.”

“It may be a bitter one.” She sighed. “Bergeron, make sure that our ponies are fed and watered. Wheatie, see about those housing accommodations. I’m going to have a talk with our new Duke.” Windstreak nodded to them both, and the three Firewings split up to attend to their tasks.

* * *

“They tell me Celerity is dead,” Tymeo was saying, his voice filled with barely-suppressed panic. “Which leaves me as the new Duke of Whitetail.”

“Celerity… dead?”

“It can’t be...”

Windstreak pushed into the chamber that held Whitetail’s ruling council, a small group of six ponies that handled matters of state for Celerity—and now Tymeo.

“Greetings, Duke Bellemont,” she hailed as she entered. The council and Tymeo turned to face her. Most of the council members were earth ponies, but there was one sole unicorn, who wore the dark blue robes that marked him as the city’s archmage. They all regarded the Firewing with wary eyes.

“Ah… Captain Strudel, was it?” Tymeo smiled nervously. “I was just appraising my aides of the situation.”

“The situation is this,” said Windstreak, without formality. “The griffons smashed us to bits at Trellow. We have barely a thousand soldiers left to defend the city with. Shrikefeather is pushing north as we speak with a force of at least twenty thousand griffons and siege weaponry.”

One of the elderly mares in council robes looked faint. “Twenty thousand?”

“Or thirty. That’s not all. Shrikefeather has more than griffons at his command. Two dragons travel with his army.”

At this, the archmage began coughing in surprise. “Dragons?” He coughed again, getting spit in his beard. “Impossible. No dragons have entered Equestria for nearly a thousand years.”

“They killed hundreds of my soldiers. None that stood against them lived. They’re very real, and they’re coming.” She looked around at the council and Tymeo, whose face was rapidly turning an ashen gray. “I’ve bought us some time by burning the fields behind us. Shrikefeather will be hard pressed to feed his army without them.”

One of the earth ponies, presumably the minister of agriculture, jerked upwards in rage. “You what? You set the fields on fire? That was an entire year’s harvest! We’re the breadbasket of Equestria! Without that grain, do you know how many will go hungry? You’ve single-hoofedly caused a famine, Captain Strudel!”

Apricot would have had a stroke if he’d heard that she had burned Equestria’s main source of wheat and flour. She winced internally and pressed on. “If I hadn’t, then the griffons would be eating it all right now, and pushing north in days rather than weeks. An empty stomach is better than a missing head.”

Tymeo waved a hoof to interject. “If I may?” He looked around. “This isn’t what the Duchess had planned. It seems clear to me that her hopes of a solid alliance between Weatherforge and Westermin have been dashed. The main force of Baron Aubren’s troops have already returned from Easthill, but the shipments will not begin arriving until next week. We can’t even arm our troops until they do.”

He sighed heavily. “Celerity would not have wanted this, but I see no other choice. I think it best if we turn over the defense of the city to Captain Strudel. She is more versed in warfare than any of us, and I can think of none more qualified in the city to lead our soldiers against the griffons.”

No, no, no! This was the last thing Windstreak wanted. She could command her Firewings like extensions of her own body, because she had flown with them for years and knew every intimate detail of their fighting styles. She had never before been forced to lead a real army. Her first action as a de-facto General had been to sound a full retreat from the worst military defeat Equestria had suffered in the last six hundred years. She wasn’t ready for this.

But who else was there?

“You’re right, my lord.” The archmage bowed his head. The other councilors nodded slowly in assent.

“Then it is settled. Captain Strudel, I give command of the forces of Whitetail to you and grant you the temporary rank of General in the Whitetail military. There is a ceremony that comes with the title, but I think we can all agree that it can wait until after the threat has passed.”

“Surely that can’t be legal. I’m already a soldier in the Princess’s employ, I can’t just swear loyalty to—”

“The technicalities don’t matter, Captain. I’m the Duke, now, I can give you the title by fiat if I wish.” His face softened. “You’re the only one who can save my subjects.” The Duke looked plaintively at her. “Please.”

“I…” Windstreak looked around. The councilponies all looked as helpless as she felt. “I… very well. I accept.”

“Thank you,” said Tymeo sincerely. “And now if you’ll excuse me, councilors, General, I need to explain the situation to the citizens of Whitewall. Those who wish to flee before the invaders come deserve the chance.” The young Duke swallowed and paused. “Celestia have mercy on us all.” He left the room, his new office weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“Archmage,” said Windstreak as the councilors began to file out. The blue-robed unicorn turned his head. “I need you to search the city’s archives for anything and everything you can find about dragons. We need to find a way to kill them.”

“As you wish… General.”

Windstreak flicked an ear uncomfortably. “Please, just Captain.” The archmage bowed his head in acknowledgement and left. She stood alone in the tiny office.

Oh, Sisters. What am I going to do?

Comments

[PaulAsaran]

What the hell? You can't tell me with any level of seriousness that Whitewall doesn't know abut the results of the battle when Celestia and Duke Blueblood are already aware, especially considering the distances involved. Why would you send couriers to those places and not the capitol of your own province, which is closer in both cases? I call bull.

The new Duke of Whitetail might be young, but he seems to at least have a good head on his shoulders. He's responding surprisingly well to this situation despite his obvious shock, and I hope to see more of him. Who knows, he might actually have more backbone than his family reputation gives him credit for.

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

Oh, Sisters. What am I going to do?

Pray to Celestia and Luna for strength, that’s what.