The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

47. The Best Laid Plans

Part Three: Sunrise

The soft, red carpet felt good under his claws and feet, though he would never admit it. There was little room for creature comforts during the long march north, so he’d resolved to enjoy the pleasures of Cloudsdale whenever he got the chance.

The carpet did little to calm his heartbeat. Logically, he had nothing to fear; it was hardly his fault, and the general was a reasonable griffon. Still, the anxious feeling in his stomach refused to be quelled. He wrapped a claw around the collar of his breastplate, adjusting it to give him a little more breathing room.

He padded up the stairs, pausing briefly to admire the woodwork of the railing. Few trees grew in the desert, so he’d grown up seeing little architecture besides cloth tents and stone. Equestrian buildings might not be as sensible—the wood caught fire so easily—but he couldn’t deny their aesthetic value. Absently, he wondered if the wood had to be enchanted to prevent it from falling through the clouds.

Reaching the top, he passed a guard doing his rounds. The guard came to attention and saluted. “Colonel.”

He returned the salute. “Carry on.” The guard nodded and resumed his patrol of the left wing.

Pausing for a moment to remember the layout of the building, he turned right. He walked down the hall, searching for a way to break the news gently. The window at the far end of the hall revealed a calm night outside, a nice change from the clammy fog that had hovered in the city for the last three days. They were still trying to work out the weatherforging machinery, and the experiments were producing unfortunate results.

He came to a stop in front of the fourth door on the left side of the hallway. He raised a claw and hesitated, before shaking his head and rapping the wood three times.

“Enter,” came the short reply. He pushed the door in and stepped into the dim room on the other side, shutting it quietly behind him.

The late Lord Weatherforge’s study had been appropriated for the general’s personal use. It looked quite different than it had under the pony’s ownership. A large map of Equestria hung from the left wall, draping over the low row of dressers underneath. The largest cabinets had all been shifted to the opposite wall, out of the way. Piles of parchment covered the floor, arranged in neat towers. The privileges of rank did not include exemption from paperwork; rather the opposite, in fact.

The general sat behind the exquisitely-made mahogany desk on the far side of the room, facing the door. He had a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his beak, reflecting the flickering light of the candle on the desk. A sheaf of parchment was clutched in one claw, and a pen in the other. He looked up from his work and said, “Ah, Colonel. Have a seat. I’m just finishing up the supply list for our first shipments of grain back to Grypha.”

Smiling, the colonel approached the desk. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you wear those. Reminds me of that summer in Aerie.” He sat on the plush cushion at the front of the desk, curling his tail around it.

With a faint smile, the general removed his glasses, folding them and setting them down on the desk. “And now, here we are.” The smile faded into his usual seriousness. “But I trust you aren’t here to discuss your childhood.”

“No.” The colonel sighed. “I have news from Whitewall.”

“Finally.” The general’s expression turned cross. He stabbed the pen into his inkwell and let it sit. “I was beginning to think Gableclaw had forgotten his assignment.” He shook his head. “I should never have put him in command of that army, but I wanted Rarifen in Westermin, and I’d already ordered Lionsclaw into the west…” He sighed. “Still, I had another capable officer here. I should have chosen you. I’m sorry.”

“I… understand why, sir. I don’t want the griffons under my command thinking I got the position out of nepotism. It’s bad for morale.”

The general frowned. “I should have known better than to let politics dictate war. But what’s done is done. What does Gableclaw report? Has he taken the city yet?”

“Um.” The colonel swallowed. “Gableclaw has been… captured, sir. He’s currently being held by the Equestrians.”

With a long sigh, the general put a claw to his forehead. “I gave that imbecile twice the number of troops he should have needed to take that city in a single day of fighting. And you’re telling me he got himself taken prisoner by a half-starved rabble of horses?” He rubbed his temples. “Who’s in command of the division, then?”

“No… no one, sir. This report was brought to me by a small group of survivors.”

The general gave him an unamused stare. “‘Survivors?’”

“Ah… they say that the army successfully breached both the first and second gates of the city, and pushed the defenders back into the keep. They were laying siege to the keep, and expected to break through within the day, but then a, uh… A host of ponies appeared from the forest, and took them by surprise. They were caught between the city walls and this new force, and were decimated.”

“A host of ponies? Impossible.” The general stood, walking around the desk to stand before the giant map. “Whitetail’s only other troops are still in Easthill. And Celestia’s forces are entangled in Norlund.”

“They said the ponies were flying blue colors.”

“Blue.” The general swiveled, heading back behind the desk. He reached to the side and grabbed a stack of parchment, dropping it onto the desk with a thump. He shuffled through it, muttering. He found the sheet he was looking for, his eyes scanning the writing. “Our last reports have Norhart’s ponies still hovering around the crossroads. How did they steal a march on us?”

“Our spies in the duke’s command structure told us nothing about new orders. We believed they were headed east next, not south.”

“Regardless, failing to notice an entire army marching through territory we control is unacceptable. Send Scoutmaster Needleye to me after this meeting. I need to have a word with him.”

“Yes, sir.” The colonel felt a twinge of sympathy for Needleye. “The survivors were not organized. The group that gave us this report is just the first to arrive. A second pair showed up this afternoon, and corroborated the report. We expect the rest to begin filtering in throughout the week.”

“Four thousand troops and all their supplies. This is a disaster.” The general snarled. “Gableclaw had better pray the Equestrians never give him back.” He fell silent for a moment, tapping the table. “And what was the dragon doing during all of this? Even Gableclaw should have been able to take the city with her help. Has she forgotten our bargain?”

The colonel’s heart seized. “Ah...” He pulled at his breastplate again. “Viera is dead.”

There was a long silence. The general slowly sat back, his face paling beneath his feathers. "Oh, shit.” He lifted a claw, clenching and unclenching it, before letting it fall. "How?"

Tentatively, the colonel said, “We aren't... exactly sure, yet. But the survivors say the ponies claim they, ah, drowned Viera in the lake."

“How? How did they organize this?”

“That pegasus, the one with the red hair, General Firemane—”

“General?” The general’s eyes flared. “She’s been promoted?”

“So it would seem, sir. She leads the armies of Whitetail in Celerity’s place.”

“So.” He leaned back, scowling. “She survived. And now she’s perfectly positioned to flank our northern push.” He looked over at the map. “I’ve miscalculated. I thought the Princess would be my chief opponent in this war, but it’s that damnable pegasus. She’s spoiled my plans at every turn. She delayed us for a week at Trellow, destroyed the fields we needed to feed our armies, and she's just pulled out one of the lynchpins of my grand strategy. She’s not a nuisance anymore, she’s become a genuine threat.”

The colonel opened a claw in supplication. “There are only a few thousand of them in Whitewall. They can’t possibly meet us in open combat.”

“I have no intention of starting a guerilla war in Whitetail Forest, Colonel, and they won’t dare face us on the grasslands. There’s only one move to make, for both our armies.” The general ran a claw along the table. “We’re stepping up the timetable again. We must reach Canterlot before this golden-armored general does. Canterlot’s air defenses are weak, but if those pegasi get there first…”

“We still outnumber them five to one.”

“Not with Lionsclaw out west of the lake and Gableclaw’s entire force destroyed. Thanks to our losses in the south, and our other offenses, those troops available to push toward the capital have been reduced to a bare fifteen thousand. We can defeat any one of the provinces, but if all of them join together at Canterlot…” The general’s face darkened. “We need to hurry. The city must fall before the end of January, or this war could drag on longer than we can afford.”

“As you wish, sir. I’ll head down to Greenhaven immediately, to begin distributing the marching orders. Will that be all?”

“One more thing. With Withers dead, Rarifen tied up in Westermin, and Gableclaw indisposed, I need a new commander for my aerial divisions. I won’t make the same mistake twice, nepotism or no. I’m placing you in charge of the fourth and fifth flight groups.”

“But that means…” The colonel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re letting me command the…”

“You’re ready. And once the fighting starts, the battle outside the city walls will demand my full attention. I need someone I can trust to handle the rest.”

Touched, he bowed his head. “I…” He smiled. “Thank you, uncle.”

The general returned the smile. “Dismissed, Colonel Shrikefeather.”

Comments

[Cedric Bale]

Wartime politics are so interesting. The General's jimmies appear to be rustled. dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/lolface_Celestia.png

[Jake The Army Guy]

A storm is brewing. Mighty armies of steel and claw shall meet on the field of battle. Blood will rain from the sky, flesh shall be torn, lives ended. Heroes and villains will emerge on both sides, legends and myth to be told to young foals and hatchlings. The day shall live forever, deep in the hearts of ponies.

I have the biggest Viking/Metal boner right now...

[Orthoros]

1695643 oh my god i love that celestia emoticon xD how and where did you get it?

nonetheless an awesome chapter and i can't wait to read more :D

here, have a mustache

[Cedric Bale]

1696682
http://userscripts.org/scripts/show/131623
It does a few things, adds a Preview button next to the Add Comment button to let you see what your comment will look like, as well as adding a BUNCH more emoticons on the side of the comment box. And some other things I can't think of. If you use Firefox, you'll need the Greasemonkey add-on to use it, if you use some other browser... I don't know. dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/shrug_Twilight_Sparkle.png

[Orthoros]

1696725 thank you very much, i luckily already have Greasemonky installed :D

[Themaskedferret]

Damnit you jerk, how dare you make us care about the big evil dude and show us he's a caring individual and not just a soulless evil.

*Stuffs rant in closet*

ahem. This is truly the mark of a great author, that you are able to give sympathy to your villains as well as your heroes.

[Borg]

You thought the princess would be your chief opponent? You need better spies. You should know that Celestia's afraid of doing anything for the past 300 years, and that very little of Equestria is loyal to her first. If you had competent spies, you'd know that the war would hinge on whether you defeated Whitetail and its allied provinces.
Though I can forgive your spies for not predicting that those allies would include the Firewings.

[Thread Necromancer]

A'ight, enough of the Nordic lore n' stuff, we're back in fuckin' buidness! MURICA! media.giphy.com/media/MUxj3PzoBO2Fa/giphy.gif (Not saying I don't like the main storyline of this fic)

[PaulAsaran]

Spies in Duke Emmet's command structure? Ooooh, there are some ponies who are going to be in a crap-ton of trouble if and when they get caught. At the same time... I wonder if said spies haven't been influencing the political situation all along?

Four thousand griffons? I thought Gableclaw had seven thousand.

See, this is the thing I like about your griffons. A lot of what they're doing is terrible – the enslavement and 'breaking' (yes, that word's still on my mind after all this time) of the captured ponies in particular fills me with disgust – but I don't think they're necessarily 'evil.' I feel like their culture and hatred of the ponies is based largely on 600 years of disastrous social policy centered around the defeat of the Griffon Empire. So yes, Shrikefeather is a villain, but I don't think he's evil.

When this war is over, Celestia needs to send forces into the griffon lands. If left to their own devices the culture will never change and this war will be repeated in another 600 years.

[TheBBofC]

“Our spies in the duke’s command structure told us nothing about new orders. We believed they were headed east next, not south.”

I knew it!