An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

120 - Snow Wars!

Extended Holiday
Chapter 120: Snow Wars!
Act 18

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“Greetings, everypony, and welcome to the second Ponyville Snow Fort Face Off!” Vital Spark’s voice boomed over the snow covered plains just outside Ponyville. The crowd from town had been much larger this year, so the venue had to be moved to make up for the increased volume of spectators. Fortunately, the Pegasi had been very accommodating, making sure to leave enough room for the spectators to gather and build stands, etc. for proper viewing, while still leaving plenty of fresh snow for the competitors to use in their battle. “In this corner, bolstered by the legendary and daring CMC of Ponyville Elementary, we have Team Victory!”

The crowds cheered, whistled, and stomped their hooves in support as the various fillies and colts waved back at their assorted family friends and relatives. “And leading them in their great rebellion, one of the most famous Pegasi to live, the head of Equestria’s forces, and one of the highest ranking nobles of the Lunar Court, a true war hero through and through, Commander Pensword!”

Pensword alighted gently on the ground with a grim expression. His bulky white body armor shone dully in the early morning’s light. A large green emblem had been sewn on his breast over the left side, and a pair of snow goggles shaped like massive ovular eyeballs clung to his forehead. The symbol of a chopped Fleur de lis nestled within the curves of a crescent moon had been painted in black on his shoulder to stand out against the snow.

“And in this corner, we have the famous, the battle-hardened, the incredibly innovative Team Unity!” Vital motioned to the side, where Black Rook, Lightning Dust, and the Shield brothers stood shoulder to shoulder. “And, of course, what’s an army without a proper head of command? After hearing of the great fun that had been held last year, and the magnificent show of leadership and sheer innovation Taze had shown in the face of utter defeat, Grif Grafson has agreed to honor the monster hunter’s name by standing in as Team Unity’s commander for this year’s competition. Let’s give him a warm round of applause, everypony!

Grif swooped into view, and landed in front of the rest of Team Unity wearing a large black cloak with a hood that covered his entire upper face, leaving only his beak to hang out mysteriously. Six Gryphons dressed in white plastic armor swooped in, and landed in front of him in aisle formation. They all bore a gear-like design on their left pauldrons. Next, Thalia landed beside Grif, dressed in similar armor in black, rather than white, with a full helmet that, for some reason, had been enchanted to echo her breathing.

“You will witness the true power of the dark side,” Grif called out in a gnarled and creaky voice.

Vital smiled widely as he let the cheers wash over the clearing for a time. “And that’s not all, folks. After several months in intensive care and physical therapy, it is my pleasure to announce the return of the hero of New Unity, the leader of New Unity’s original Fox Brigade, the stallion who kept New Unity organized and fighting in a time when no superior officers were available to direct, and who nobly sacrificed himself to make an opening for reinforcements in a time of dire need. Even in the last stages of recovery, he couldn’t bear to miss the event. Ladies and gentlecolts, I present to you, Silver Spear!”

The four Ponies and Grif’s entourage parted to reveal the soldier in question. His copper coat was riddled with scars, and his body still looked somewhat gaunt in his old uniform, but he smiled all the same, and his silver mane shone all the brighter as the crowds cheered. The two Shields stood by his side as they escorted him to a wheelchair, guarded by Grif’s imperial troopers, where a Pegasus nurse stood waiting. Silver Spear nodded gratefully to his two friends, who offered a firm salute. He returned the gesture, and smiled tiredly as his horn shot a few stray sparks. The nurse was quick to offer a cold compress and a potion, which he gladly sipped. Naturally, Pensword, Grif, and the higher ranking Ponies knew exactly who that nurse really was, and what contents the potion contained. The nurse offered a subtle nod and a wink towards the two leaders to signal all was well, before taking her place beside the chair to watch the events that would unfold.

“Now then, the rules are simple. Both sides will have a period of two hours in which to build their forts and make preparations for battle. This includes any plans for secret weapons. Improvisation is allowed, and innovation is encouraged; however, your preparations will be limited specifically to your forts, ammunition, and planning during this period. Ammunition will remain strictly snow-related, and must come in the form of compact spherical shapes during this period. After the battle is well and truly begun, these weapon limits will be lifted, and it will be up to each team to utilize their resources as they see fit. There will be no ice balls allowed. However, you are allowed to make use of ice as a reinforcing agent, provided it is kept to a relatively thin layer. Medics will be on standby, in case anyone gets hurt. And as for resurrections, this year is dedicated to a more scientific theme. As such, we will be using duly designated golem units from both sides to go out and retrieve the wounded and fallen. Once they have reached the designated recovery bay, the affected units will have to wait between one and five minutes to recover, depending on the nature of the casualty they suffered. A neutral party will be there to decide the length of time required, and to watch the clock for each unit. Remember, everyone, we want this to be a clean game. Foul play will not be tolerated. Good luck to you all, and may the force be with you!”

Vital Spark saluted, then fired off a series of sparks from his horn that exploded in the air like fireworks. “Let the games begin!”

Grif turned to the Unity group. “You heard the colt. Show them what the imperial troopers are capable of.” With that, the units and Thalia went to work setting up the base and making snowballs.

Pensword grinned at the chance to actually participate in the battle for once, rather than being stuck on the sidelines. He turned around and looked at the foals. “Come on. Since Pinkie Pie can’t help us in the main fight, due to the theme’s restrictions this year, she promised to help us create our snow base.” His grin widened as Matthew showed him ideas and images from the movies the group had drawn the inspiration for this event from. This was definitely going to be good.

While the base was being constructed, the CMC looked up at their “patron” to the resistance effort. Hammer Strike remained firm and imposing, but a hint of a smile pulled at the edges of his mouth as they looked up at him in anticipation.

“So, what did you make for us this time?” Sweetie Belle asked. Her mane had been done up in two curling buns on either side of her head, and a tight clinging winter camouflage complete with snow belts and fur hood helped to complete the ensemble, while granting her the extra advantage of blending into the snow properly.

“Please tell me it’s a super awesome reloadable snow cannon,” Scootaloo begged. A special helmet with a yellow visor had been shoved on her head, and the same insignia Pensword had painted on his shoulder had been painted onto the helmet’s back for everyone to see. “I promise I won’t aim for Diamond Tiara this time!”

“I sure hope not,” Applebloom said. “With us facing Grif, instead of Taze, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” A miniaturized version of military rank pins had been sewn into her winter gear, and a thick set of winter wraps covered her muzzle and head to preserve heat, while giving her a more mysterious appearance, much like a ninja.

“Settle down, kid. We’ll be fine,” Button Mash said with a cocky smirk. He wore a black vest over a tanned shirt, and for this one time, he had chosen to go without his beanie for the costume’s sake, allowing his messy red mane to fly free in the cold winter air.

“It’s pretty much a snow cannon,” Hammer Strike replied. “Nice and simple. Just load it with snow, aim, and pull that cord,” he said, pointing to the rear of the cannon. “I won’t be sticking around, since I kinda, you know, melt snow.”

“That is a shame,” Scootaloo muttered, kicking some of the snow around her. “I wish you could be part of the fun. You’ll watch us, though, right?” she asked.

“Of course,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.

“Wish us luck. We’re going to try and win this year,” Sweetie Belle said with her usual excited squeak. With those words said, the CMC, plus Button Mash, hitched themselves to the snow cannon, and began to drag it away on skis towards their base. Off in the distance, the other kids worked to prepare for the oncoming storm.

---

Grif grinned as he stood back and admired what his forces had put together. The prize for the most creative ideas was still in effect, and many, it seemed, were eager to win the chance to eat at Hammer Strike’s table. Combining multiple talents, the “empire” had put together a miniature bunker, complete with fortified entrances on the front, back, and sides. Strategically placed openings would allow defenders to throw snowballs from inside the fortress. In fairness to the game, no solid snow roof had been placed over the top; however, Pegasi had generated a condensed layer of fog, which would provide a level of visual interference from any who attempted to hit them from above. Unicorns had excavated the snow down to the solid ground beneath, allowing the ground to freeze as the spare snow was put towards planned snowball caches around the base and reinforcing the outer walls. The fort’s walls had been separated into a layer of ice, a layer of cloud, a layer of snow, and a second layer of cloud beyond that. Several towers had been shaped outside to allow for strategic guards, as well as barricades and border walls to provide cover in the case of an invasion. Two cloud cannons had been shaped and placed near the entrance for long range artillery support.

Grif pronounced the fortress adequate as he placed the empire’s flag on one of the towers. The flags were a new addition as an added rule to make the competition more interesting. If one force could steal an enemy's flag, and keep it for twenty four hours, it would be worth a bonus to that day's end score. At the end of each day, a panel of judges would award a score based on each force's actions. The side with the largest overall score would be the winner of the war.

“With this snow fortress, we will show them the power of our anger,” Grif said as he entered while his troops split up to cover their positions, dressed in either white plastic armor or black costumes with large flanged black helmets.

“Grif? You keep mentioning the dark. You know what? I’m not doing this,” Thalia’s magically altered voice boomed in a deep monotone, until she took it off. “Seriously, you keep mentioning the dark side. Are we supposed to be the good guys or the bad guys here?”

“Good and evil are all in perspective, my very young apprentice,” Grif told her, before walking away slowly.

“... Oookay,” Thalia said. She shook her head, and chuckled as she rolled her eyes, before she followed him inside. “I guess today, we’re evil.”

Meanwhile, the rebel base was starting to shape up on the other side of the field. In stark contrast to the empire’s flag, which was an empty black with the empire insignia in white, their flag was a rich blue with the same white rebel symbol as they had born on their armor. As an added measure for protection, they had agreed to keep the flag hidden in a supply room that they would build next to the hangar for their aerial troops. Since these entrances would be more heavily fortified, it made sense to keep the flag there.

Trenches lined the front and around the sides, and the foals had agreed to take after their opponents’ example, utilizing a fog layer to protect from assault and any spies that might try to peer into their counsel room. A series of random openings dotted the surface of the structure for hidden fighters to strike their enemies, and an especially large cluster of these openings surrounded an aerial port that had been built for incoming and outgoing flyers. As part of the structures, Pinkie had used her geological knowhow to manufacture a series of pebble-based structures that would serve as stockpiles structures, while some of her patented party cannons had been modified and fitted into the fort’s core structure for larger and more rapid snowball attacks.

Off on the side of the base, a row of six disks that had been enlarged with assistance from Twilight’s magic stood waiting to be deployed by the more powerful Unicorns and stronger Earth Ponies to protect against aerial bombardment, and potentially assist in breaking through to the enemy’s base.

Pensword looked grimly at his fellow troops. Once again, thanks to Pinkie Pie, and his own donation of one modern day planning table, they had a 3D image of the entire battlefield laid out before them, with sensors that had been staked in the ground at varying intervals to give an accurate reading of the battle. Naturally, Grif had also been given a similar advantage. After all, it was only fair. He slowly grinned as idea after idea was hashed around the table, coming from Scootaloo, Button Mash, Little Pip, and even Pip’s father. Button Mash proved one of the most resourceful, however, thanks to all his previous experience with strategy-based games.

On top of this, Pensword had insisted they focus on building multiple fallback points with booby traps and ambush points included, in case they should happen to be breached. While the foals weren’t too keen on using up so much energy in the construction when there was still a battle to win, Pensword had managed to work out a schedule with the assistance of one of the more adept organizers in the class to minimize fatigue, and help prepare for the long haul ahead.

The field itself had seven key capture points for Ponies to reach and take in their conquest of the opposing fort. While they weren’t necessary, seizing and holding these posts until the end of the match would result in bonus points, and potential buffs or resupplies as certain magi chose to conjure at their discretion on an intermittent time schedule.

In the middle of an important deliberation, a letter suddenly appeared on the table, disrupting the magical projections of both parties. An identical message notified the commanders that the Snow Wars had just been extended an extra day, so Princess Luna could join in the fun on the fourth day with promise of Alicorn magic to renew the depleted stock of both parties for an all out attack finale.

The foals cheered at that news, and Pensword smiled as he looked down on their flushed faces. Moon River chirped at a corner as she sat in her playpen, wrapped in a protective blanket, with a tiny helmet that spun around as she saw fit. Her usual foal stand had been replaced with a cylindrical design that moved around when she wriggled, so she could see all around the room. As she pressed various buttons, the hat would chirp as a series of boops and beeps followed a pre-set lighting sequence that caused the foal to shriek joyfully at the entertainment. Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle as he wondered how Grif would react to the sight of their own personal R2-D2.

He looked at the seven grey capture points, particularly the three that currently laid under the Empire’s control. It would be a hard fight, and he looked forward to trying to capture either the flag or get a foothold at the other midpoints. With a final nod, and a battle plan in place, he made his way to the hangar, where one hundred seventy six foals and a few parents stood in full battle array, waiting for an inspiring speech. Pensword wasn’t about to disappoint.

“Foals, mares, and colts of the Resistance! We are here to show that we are the true rulers of the Ponyville snow days. New Unity might have their own fun, their own snow, but unlike us, they have to wait for the whims of the forest. They want to usurp these fields for their own fun!” He stopped while the kids faked booed, and the parents chuckled at the antics and showmanship.

“This snow base will be the location of our stand. We will not retreat, and we shall push them off our fields!” Pensword smirked, even as he saw the spirits of his brother and sister standing near the CMC’s extended group. “They may take our fields, and our snow,” he shouted, “but they shall never take our fun!” he roared, even as he paraphrased a certain famous Scotsman from Earth. “Let’s go out there, and show that we can, in fact, defeat the greatest trained military there is!”

The Foals shouted and cheered as they moved towards their battle stations, anxiously awaiting the signal from Twilight that the battle phase could begin. As Vital had in the beginning, so Twilight did now as she flashed into the center of the battle field, and hovered there, before launching an explosive display of magic into the sky, and shouting at the top of her voice.

“Let the battle begin!”

The foals raced forward to capture the two points closest to the rebel base, making sure that they could dive and start making snowballs in the field, if needed.

“For the empire!” the call came from the other side as Unity soldiers sent their first volley forward.

While a few foals were hit, none were truly taken out, and they returned in kind as ten foals took to the air with snowballs in makeshift bomber bags. One carefully timed pull of a string led to a deadly blanket bomb of compacted snow from above. And if they wished to conserve ammunition, the foals could reach into the bags to pelt their enemies with carefully aimed snowballs instead. Pensword was remained at the command center to coordinate the battle where he could, and continued to utilize Button Mash’s keen gaming instincts to help prepare strategies. A full six hundred points had to be earned by either team, before their commanders could properly take to the field anyways, so now it was merely a matter of who could reach that tally first.

The first hour went by with several “lightning raids” from the empire. The troops would arrive, attack with a volley, and then melt away, a procedure that was made easier by the white reflective armor which had proved to be a rather effective hinderance to Pensword’s aerial attacks. The cannons served as an effective front line defense, sending out entire walls of snowballs with every shot fired. It seemed Grif and his empire weren't pulling any punches.

Despite the raids, Pensword kept up a solid defense of his own, knocking off enemy troops each time. A particularly devilish show of youthful cunning reared its head as a team of foals suddenly popped out from a series of trap doors beneath the snow to pelt their attackers from behind, pinning them down before elimination.

The air wasn’t safe either as bombing runs continued to rise, and snowballs whizzed through the air like hail. One particularly well placed shot to a wing joint caused a Gryphon to be grounded, due to a sprained wing. The foal responsible nearly fell into a fit of tears, but a few kindly fibs on the Gryphon’s part, combined with over-the-top dramatic acting calmed the little Pony down. All the same, the filly in question, a cute little pink Unicorn, refused to leave the Gryphon’s side as they shared mugs of hot cocoa and comics together on the sidelines.

By the third hour of the battle, the front lines had stabilized, with each side owning three capture points, and the middle one having changed hooves four times already. The groups on both sides struggled to take the other’s capture point. The sides had moved up items and a few “vehicles,” mostly things with cardboard or treads. It was still impressive, however, with the snowball launchers that had been included in their builds. They did give a bit of an edge, just not enough to get folks moving forward. By this time, the Gryphon with the sprained wing was in in the observation building with his new filly friend, who was now out of the game for the day, thanks to a case of brain freeze, due to overexposure to the snow when she’d tried divebombing with a pile she’d carried directly on her back to try to take the enemy’s control point at the center of the field.

“Commander, we have a problem!” Pipsqueak said as he rushed into the command center.

“What’s happening, Pip? What did Grif pull this time?”

“It’s not what’s happening; it’s what's happened! The flag! The guard just noticed it’s a decoy. We don’t know how long ago it was switched.”

“And what is the status on our attacks on the flag?” Pensword asked. “Whatever it is, I want Grif to think we’re trying to reclaim our flag. Get troops moving, and push forward harder. He’ll be willing to sacrifice the central point, if he thinks we’re going to keep up the pressure after taking it. That will be his downfall. I want that center position held permanently.” He smirked. “And make sure to capture as many of his units as you can. The more POWs we have, the better.”

“Yes, Sir. There is another point of concern, however. We’ll keep pressing the attack, but we’re getting a strong resistance, a figure dressed in green armor. It’s silent, fast, and brutally efficient,” Pipsqueak said nervously.

“Oh no....” Pensword paled as his eyes widened. “Get Dinky to target the green armored being now. Give her anything she asks for, and let her move forward. Just make sure we hold what we have, and take the next points. Oh, and Pip, if you can, tell Dinky to also look for our flag, if she has the time.”

Pipsqueak saluted, and raced out to fulfill his orders as the sound of numerous loud thumps slammed against the walls. “It’s the armored figure, Sir,” Pipsqueak announced as he looked outside. “They attached a cannon to its back.”

“Of course they did. Of flipping course they did.” Even as they spoke, the air was suddenly shadowed with a volley of snowballs. Pinkie’s snowball cannons were firing at a rapid rate as they targeted the attacker. No matter the skill, the snow that was launched was too heavy for anyone to survive unscathed. The armored figure had no choice but to retreat.

---

“The rebels are increasing their efforts,” Thalia reported, still unsure just how Grif had convinced her to put the helmet back on, though it did add a neat effect for her voice, she supposed.

“Good. Good. Everything's going according to plan,” Grif said as he idly twirled the flag in his talons. “Do they suspect anything?”

“No, my master. They believe we are ignorant of their plans. They have not yet found our spy,” Thalia said.

“Perfect. Soon, my apprentice, we shall show them the true power of the dark side!” Grif cackled.

“They appear to be planning to send Dinky after our bounty hunter.”

“Just as we thought they would. And that is why I shall send you, my apprentice.” Grif gestured forward into the battlefield.

Thalia gave a nod, before turning to leave.

Grif chuckled as he examined the flag. The rules were clear that each team's flag had to be placed in the open. However, there was no rule against the commander keeping the opposing team's flag with them. If Pensword wanted the flag back, he would have to infiltrate the empire's base to get it, and they weren’t ready for a raid of that scale yet.

Gilda glided worriedly into the throne room. “Uh … we’re in danger of actually losing the eastern capture point, Emperor. That will give them direct access to assault the number two snow cannon. They’ve committed a large force to the center. We should commit our reserves from the Western banks and here at the base to reinforce the Eastern point and keep them from advancing any closer.

“Very good,” Grif praised, “but pull a squad from our reserve units, and send them to the eastern front. The magma squad, I think. Perhaps they can salvage the situation.” Grif had received no end of Changling volunteers for the day, and not wanting to cut them out, but already being full on units, he had put three squads of Changelings on reserve.

“Consider it done,” Gilda replied with a vicious grin. “We’ll keep the position, and force the stalemate. I have to say, I expected better from the commander. These tactics truly are childish.”

“He’s leading children, and it’s early yet. Don’t underestimate him. He may want us to get secure in our superiority just before he breaks out his real ability,” Grif warned.

“Really? What’s the worst he could do? They’re foals. They don’t have the discipline we have, nor the attention span,” Gilda muttered. “We haven’t won, simply because of the fact they outweigh us in sheer force of numbers.

“Then why do they have multiple POWs, while we only have a single prisoner?” Grif countered. “Now go. No more dilly dallying. We have a war going on.”

Gilda looked like she was about to make a retort, but thought better of it, before turning and leaving, wondering that very same question. Grif actually caught his eye wandering as she did. With a supreme act of will, he forced himself away from her retreating form. Where had that come from?

---

Pensword scrutinized the map as a swarm of red dots charged from the enemy base towards the Eastern capture point. He grinned, and looked to Featherweight. Though small, he was able to dart about easily through the snow, and that made him a valuable asset as a messenger. “Tell the troops to activate the plans in this paper,” he instructed as he shoved said paper into Featherweight’s hooves. The foal gave a smart salute, and then was gone. That Pegasus had talent. He would make a great addition to the guard one day, should he choose that path.

With that musing complete, Pensword turned to face Preston, who was currently undisguised to conserve heat and magic. His Red Chitin reflected the light of the map, seeming almost to glow. “Are you sure no Changelings would like to join our side, and play alongside the foals?” he asked as he scoured the map once more for any sudden changes. While he doubted Grif would use such an underhanded tactic, it was entirely possible a spy could have been placed in their midst, especially since Me-Me’s hive had been so insistent on wanting to join in the fun. He was already working out a way to test for potential spies. After all, with all the numbers they’d accumulated from the foals of Ponyville, it would be a simple matter to have a few extra foals slip through when no one was watching.

“Positive, Sir.”

Pensword only hummed as he looked at the map. “Preston, can you do a visual check on the snowballs we have in reserve, in case we have to defend the hallways of the base?”

“Yes, Sir.” Preston nodded, before heading to do as asked.

Pensword nodded his head absently as he returned to his work. A few minutes later, he noticed his dots moving right into place. It would seem young Featherweight had done it again. The capture point that they had yet to touch was now under a three-pronged assault from a good seventy-five foals. At this rate, they would be able to not only seize the location, but maintain the ground they’d taken with the remainder of the assault troops.

All was going according to plan. Victory seemed near at hand, but then, as if rising from the earth, Grif’s dots suddenly multiplied as the veritable wave of oncoming foals was slowed, and then stalemated.

“Sir! Reports coming in. Grif’s fielding another hero unit in his counter attack,” Pipsqueak shouted as he raced into the room.

“Which one? What is its description? And can we please get some of our own heroes out there? We have to take that capture point. I will not be stopped a second year in a row!”

“It’s a stallion I’ve never seen before, Sir. Muddy brown fur with a white mane and beard, wearing a black robe with a brown cloak. Sir, he has Changelings with him!”

Pensword smacked his forehead, and groaned. “Get Old Ben Kenobi to attack there, okay?” Pensword ordered Pipsqueak.

Pipsqueak nodded and went to find the hero.

“I really hope this works,” Pensword muttered. “Otherwise, it is going to be hoof to hoof, and....” He sighed. “I hope we do better than the movie.” He watched silently as the icons continued to move along the map.

---

“They’re preparing to counterattack,” a Changeling drone spoke to Grif directly. “He will send Kenobi.”

“Very good, my loyal spy. Now go, before you are discovered,” Grif said. A moment later, the drone blinked, and looked at Grif. “The connection is gone. He hasn’t been found out yet.”

“Very good. Tell Thalia to prepare herself. Should Mutatio fail, she shall cover his retreat,” Grif said, before cackling to himself.

“Of course.” The drone bowed, before leaving.

“So, you’ve come,” Grif said as he turned to a small figure wearing a heavy black cloak just entering the room.

“Of course,” the young voice rang clearly through the room as tiny hooves crunched definitively across the snow. “I’m supposed to stand in for my brother, after all. Now what do you need me to do?”

“In thirty minutes, we break for the noon break. When that break is over, you will lead an immediate attack against the center point. During that time, Thalia and Mutatio will be pressing their other points. Their forces will be spread too thin to counterattack effectively, and you will give them confusion.”

“A few misplaced dust devils ought to do the trick.” The edge of the foal’s muzzle curved in a malevolent smirk. “Especially if we add enough magic to manipulate the winds into sending the snowballs back at their throwers.” He pulled back his hood to reveal a young colt with light gray fur and a brooding black mane and tail. His mane had been pulled straight back, giving him a permanent windswept appearance as he looked back to the emperor of their little compound. “Anything else you needed from me, my emperor?”

“No. Go pick your troops, Rumble, and prepare them. As soon as they begin counter attacking Thalia and Mutatio, you press your attack.”

Rumble knelt, and bowed his head. “As you command.” When he rose, a red glint shone in his eye, thanks to the specially enchanted clasp that tied his robe across his neck. “This is going to be fun.”

---

Pensword was going through the motions of chewing. The counter attack had just begun, and it was going his way for once, but he was waiting for the other horseshoe to drop. So many things could go wrong so easily, especially considering how he knew he was dealing with an incredibly brilliant and well-read mind on top of the vicious warrior tactician he called his friend. That particular combination would prove deadly, if not handled with the proper precautions. Yes, he would have to remain on the tips of his hooves. Yet a sense of excitement gripped him as he grinned down at his map. The red dots had swarmed the seizure point just as the timer that hovered above the display neared zero. “Yes! We are inside the compound.”

As the timer ran down to zero, a loud horn sounded over the playing field, heralding the end of the first half of that day’s match. It would be up to both sides to organize and distribute their lunches to the troops, and to ensure the proper markers were properly placed, so that exact positions could be properly recorded.

Pensword groaned. “Just as it was getting good,” he grumbled as he scuffed at the snow. Then he sighed. “Right.” He turned to face the messenger Pony. “Featherweight, call up the pause flag for lunch. Then start rotating rations through the ranks. Command staff eats last.” He chuckled. “Strange thing, time. It feels like we only just started, and already we’re halfway done.”

Featherweight nodded, and grinned as he took off to spread the word. Whistles pierced the grounds, calling for a full stop, in case any stragglers hadn’t heard the initial signal. Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle as Matthew’s memories of trench warfare from World War One came to the fore. How similar this battlefield had become. He smiled as he watched the packed lunches literally blur into existence as a bright blue streak raced against a pink streak in a contest to see who could drop off the most lunches first.

“Ah, Rainbow, Pinkie,” he chuckled, “you two never cease to make us smile.”

---

With the markers locked in, the “troops” returned to their bases with lunch in tow. Steaming soups and stews both vegetarian and non restored warmth to the Ponies’ faces and joints, while warm, fluffy bread helped to sop up the remains, ensuring everyone got the perfect bite. Hot drink stands and fresh apple pie stations had been set up on tables for ease of distribution as the two sides lined up at their respective forts, courtesy of Sugarcube Corner and the Apple Family Farm. Much to Pensword’s consternation, he had also received a similar meal, rather than the military rations he had expected to be delivered. The grumpy frown lasted for all of about ten seconds, before the foals started to giggle and point his way. A sheepish smile soon pulled at his lips as he remembered this wasn’t meant to be real combat. This was supposed to be a fun contest, a battle of wits and endurance. It didn’t matter what type of food they had, or even if they took any major hits. The whole point of the exercise was to have fun, and enjoy that more natural magic the first snow always has to offer. With that thought firmly in mind, he dug ravenously into his meal, accompanied by the many hearty cheers of his young army.

The more he began to relax and enjoy the meal, the easier it became to strategize. His smile turned into an excited grin as a particularly clever little strategy took root, and began to grow. Yes, it might just be enough to throw that feather-covered sith lord off balance. Still, he would have to wait and see, bide his time. To give away too much too soon could cost a great deal in the long run. He casually wondered just what Grif and his forces were up to for a time, then returned to the paradise that was the combined efforts of Pinkie Pie and Applejack in their sugary confections. The foals ate quickly, and spoke breathlessly as they regaled each other with their exploits from the last few hours.

Back in the other base, Grif took another long pull from a large mug of tomato soup as he looked over the map one more time. He was certain if his plan worked that he’d be able to entrench his people well enough to hold for the remaining three hours of the day. Preston’s reports revealed that the enemy would be needing snowballs soon. Low ammo meant less resources to push for the day. If they could hold until the day's end, then, tomorrow, they could launch an assault as their opening move. They already had the flag, and he was certain their current performance, plus the boost, would give them a considerable lead right off the bat.

That wasn’t to say they were without problems. Pensword had a clear advantage in numbers. Even with the Changelings joining Grif’s side, it had also become apparent several of their fortifications would require immediate maintenance. Walls seemed fit to collapse. The spells on two of their golems meant for retrieving ‘wounded’ were beginning to fray, and they would soon have to finish the day short-handed. Shock and surprise had been Grif’s weapons so far, but those wouldn’t work forever, so where was the angle he could exploit when they did? He kept the questions to himself for now as he continued to scour over the map, working on the numbers with as much care as he could muster.

Back at the rebel base, the snowball assembly line eagerly returned to their posts, anxious for the game to resume, so they could get to work again. While the numbers were low, Pensword knew he could take one of the control points, and with their latest victory, one of the two middle control points had been claimed. Now they just needed to claim its sister. The flag was a lost cause, unless some foal managed the impossible. It could be retrieved the next day. Parents watched, waiting for the end of the day to come, so they could bring their little ones home and help come up with strategies and techniques to give their children an advantage. Fortunately, the walls, though damaged, were high, which meant that, despite erosion, the foals would have cover for a longer period of time than the enemy. And, worst case scenario, they would be able to break down the wall as a source for emergency snowball reserves. The commander smiled as he reviewed an updated POW list. It seemed that they had about two squads of Gryphons in their jail.

He looked at another piece of paper written by one of the older foals, and he signed it. Thanks to foresight, they had enough reserve snowballs to surprise the enemy. The children had been careful to make it look like they were running low on ammunition. Any spies who had watched this morning would probably think he intended to hoard the balls for a later attack. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when he proved their reports wrong. It would make for an excellent test to weed out the ranks as well. Two birds with one stone.

A bright green flare went up from the Empire’s base, signaling they were ready to begin again. Pensword nodded, and sent the signal as one of the foals pulled the wire on a popper, and sent a bright red flare from the fort’s roof to signal the Rebels’ readiness. The flare had just begun its downward arc, when the Empire’s retaliation came fast and hard. The recently claimed hold was nearly overrun, requiring Pensword to order relief columns from two other control points Changelings swarmed from the left and Ponies from the right. Enemy hero units led both charges with a ruthless brutality.

Pensword looked at the others. “Get Dinky after the Changelings, and get Han on the adult Ponies. Hold those lines, and capture what troops you can. Make sure we succeed in the middle, understand? If we hold the central control point, we’ll be able to project to all the other ones tomorrow,” he ordered. He looked to Preston. “What is the hive saying?” he demanded. “All’s fair in war, and you’re a valuable asset in this case. If you can glean anything, tell me.” With that many Changelings at Grif’s disposal, it was pretty obvious who the hive had chosen to support.

“I can’t get a clear signal,” Preston told him as he scrunched his face in effort. “I’m not disconnected from the hive song, but I’m being sent what would equate to static. They know I’m here, so I suppose they’re taking steps to block me.”

Pensword watched the map intently as the reinforcements organized and charged for the counterattack. But even as they did, the wind picked up at the center, swirling around to pick up loose snow, filling the air to obscure the troops’ vision. While Pensword could still see the position of his troops, all visual input for that section of the battlefield soon became completely obscured.

Pensword growled angrily as he smacked a hoof onto the table. “Pull back to the defenses,” he ordered. “Bunker down, and get back.” He knew this would happen eventually. It was only a matter of time before Grif chose to use his powers over wind. After all, what better way to plan an attack than in the middle of a whiteout that you control? If they were to have any hope of even tying with Grif, they would need to keep the losses low. Pensword needed to keep his forces in check. “Get guards on the jails. Do not let anyone break them out.”

When the wind finally broke, most of the attacking force was already being taken into custody. Maybe a tenth of the foals managed to retreat as Pegasi rounded up the captured. There in the center, a single Pegasus foal with grey fur and a back mane stood smirking arrogantly in a somewhat tattered black robe with a grey plate that covered his upper chest and the back of his neck like a collar. His midsection was covered in a collection of leather belts with extra cloth wrappings wound above each hoof. With a grin, Snow Killer, AKA Rumble, seemed to realize he could be seen as he gave the rebel base a bow, before retreating into the newly reclaimed middle point.

The base echoed with Pensword’s roar of anger, frustration, and betrayal. He raced to the air to see what could be done. While the attacks on the two flanks had been halted, and the Rebels had managed to take more prisoners in those spots, the situation was still rather grim. The gambit in the central control point had been a disaster, even with other foals trying to help. The current count now stood at fifty adult units in the Rebel jail and twenty-two foals caught in the imperial prison. They had lost almost the entire frontal prong, meaning the entire rest of the day would have to be played from a defensive standpoint, especially with so many reserves having been wasted in the assault. The implications of these results were quite clear. Grif was a brilliant strategist, and the brute force his body provided made that mind all the more dangerous, but even he shouldn’t have been able to anticipate this attack. “Preston!” he yelled.

“Yes, Commander?” The Changeling was quick to rush to his superior’s side.

“I’ve come to a decision, and I don’t make it lightly. You are going to head out, and join the troops as part of our defense efforts. With the recent failure, we have little choice but to shore up as best we can. I need you there to warn any of the foals of Changeling or any other attacks you and your empathic abilities might detect. Am I understood?” he barked.

Preston saluted. “Understood, Commander. I’ll go prep for the next outgoing attack.”

Pensword returned the salute. “Dismissed, Preston.”

“Yes, Sir.” With that finished, Preston left to prepare, and to relay his orders to Grif.

With Preston off, Pensword began formulating hit and run strategies. The only way he could make up for lost lost ground would be to claim more prisoners, and with the loss of his troops, that meant he had that many more to capture, if he hoped to offset the loss. Fortunately, he knew his troops. In a setting like this, the adults would likely be cocky, willing to take risks they wouldn’t normally take in real combat. That would be to their advantage. At least, he prayed it would. It was about the best he could manage under the circumstances.

Meanwhile, back at the imperial base, Grif smiled as he went over to a chess board, grabbed the black bishop, and knocked over the white knight.

It was the end of the day, and the combatants were packing up, while parents on one end and those in charge of repairs on the other worked at their duties. Thanks to Hammer Strike’s generous donations, the foals would be staying at the Punch Bowl for the night. The adults would be staying in their own homes, or in enchanted tents that would insulate against the cold snow, without melting the precious substance.

The end of the day saw one more foal and sixteen more adults captured over the course of three hours, making for a total of twenty-three foals to sixty-six adults. However, Rumble soon found out the price for siding with Grif the way he had. He would have to room with the adults, and would not be able to enjoy the comforts of his peers at the Punch Bowl. The only chance he would have to enjoy their company would be at the combined dinner that had been prepared to celebrate the end of the first day.

Despite the combat coming to an end, Pensword was already running over tactics and plans for the next day. He had wanted to just have a silly snowball fight. Instead, he got something else, and he would have to work hard, if he wanted his troops to come out on top. Fox Feather was already drafting up plans on how to retrieve the lost flag, and he hoped to snare some of the enemy heroes. After all, to take a hero was to gain a major point bonus. With these and many more thoughts in his head, he started to trek towards the Punch Bowl.

The panel of judges consisted of Vinyl Scratch, Twilight Sparkle, and Clover the Clever. After a fifteen-minute deliberation, they scored the rebels a daily score of 861 points for their tactics and efficiency, as well as a small bonus for their large amount of POWs.

The Empire earned a daily score of 1014 points for tactics, quick adaption to changes in the battlefield, and the notable bonus for maintaining the control over the enemy's flag until the game ended. They also received a small bonus for their use of espionage and shock-and-awe tactics.

When the judging had finished, the commanders and their lieutenants shook hooves and/or talons.

“Good game,” Grif told Pensword with a smile. “You nearly had me a few times.”

“Yeah, but you got what you wanted, messing my plans up,” Pensword growled back. “I was having a fun time, but it seems you are taking this more seriously. Tomorrow won’t be the same as today.”

“Tomorrow is rarely the same as today. Remember, I started this as a military exercise. Still, you need to calm down, Pensword. Let’s remember to have some fun, all right?”

Pensword nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just….” Pensword shook his head. “Your little stunt with Rumble’s got me and a few other foals irritated. I should be better tomorrow. Sorry,” he apologized. Then just a hint of a smirk pulled at his lips. “Still, you’d better watch yourself tomorrow, Grif. I have some interesting plans.”

“Well, Good luck, then.” Grif chuckled as he and Thalia headed for the Empire table. Several gryphons began humming the Imperial March cheerfully as Grif headed for his seat.

“Right.…” Pensword drew out as he moved to the Rebel’s table to eat, talk, and otherwise vent over the day’s events. They deserved the break. Tomorrow would be tough, and they all knew it. They had seen how much Unity had improved over the last year. If they wanted to succeed this year, they would have to step up their game. Pensword took a passive sip of his tea as he took in all the discussion. Perhaps it was time to go back and read a certain book again. Matthew said it might help for the next match, and at this point, he was willing to try anything. The least he could do was give his foals a fighting chance at victory, and he would do his best to make sure they got it.

---

The night passed well, and without incident. To help maintain the charade of antagonism between the two sides, a large sheet sewn by Rarity had been drawn across the tavern, dividing it in half. The adult side got the bar, while the foal side held hot chocolate, s'mores, and hearty stews. Seeing as not all adults liked to drink, and young Rumble was also on that side, hot chocolate and a few other alternative beverages had been provided. Much like their fellow competitors, a variety of succulent dishes had been prepared, both meat and vegetable-based.

The Empire treated Rumble with respect and high honors as they sang his praises and regaled each other with his accolades. A silencing spell had been woven into the dividing cloth’s material to prevent either side from gaining an unfair advantage as they planned for the next day’s battle. Gryphons took turns singing songs of victory and valor. Pegasi held Rumble on their shoulders, and paraded him around the room in a miniature triumph. When lights out was ordered, the troops prepared for bed immediately, as was tradition of the three races. Before battle, Gryphons, Pegasi, and Thestrals slept alone, even if their mates lay close by.

In the seclusion of one of the far corners, Grif wasn’t sleeping. He examined the maps and reports of the previous day’s battle. He knew Pensword was going to press harder. That meant defense was going to be a high priority. The walls would have to be looked over and reinforced, and other preparations would likely have to be made. Their forces led by just under two hundred points for now. If they kept the flag, and kept things contained to small lightning-fast battles, they could prevent the rebel forces from overcoming the point bonus of the flag, which would mean he could spend the day planning a final stronger assault on the rebel base. Satisfied with his plans, he rolled up the documents, and placed them beneath a loose floorboard. Then he hid a second set of dummy documents under his cot. He doubted Pensword would take such an underhanded measure as sneaking over to steal, but he wasn’t about to underestimate his old friend.

On the other side, the foals moped at first, due to the crushing blow Grif and his troops had struck against them. Not only had they lost their flag, but the Empire team had also reclaimed a capture point, and “killed” multiple units. Despite their numbers, the foals weren’t feeling nearly so confident as they had last year. Pensword could read the room like a battle map. The way the team’s morale had been dropping, there was little chance they would be enthusiastic enough to put up a proper resistance in the next day’s match. That could not stand. He flared his wings, and alighted on a table, much to Berry Punch’s chagrin. It seemed that reaction was what a few of the foals needed, though, as Pensword noted the few giggles and a couple of smiles on the children’s faces. He stomped a few times to gather their attention.

“My fellow Rebels,” his voice boomed, “we may have lost the flag, and our friends, but remember this. We carry the greater numbers! The betrayal of Rumble was a heavy blow. It is likely he who stole our flag, and replaced it with such a clever facsimile.” A series of boos and hisses followed that remark. Pensword raised a wing to silence the crowd. “But know this. With Rumble’s betrayal, they have blown their spy’s cover. Now the playing field is leveled. We will gain the advantage tomorrow. We will strike back. And we will make up for the ground we have lost this day. However, that is for tomorrow. It is time for us to focus on the present, on this night, our night. Tonight, we celebrate the fact that we, a simple band of children, stood hoof-to-hoof with one of the best trained military units in Equestria. Yes, we have taken casualties, but we took more than double in turn. Our tactics are successful, and they will continue to be, so long as we work together as a team. We will make the empire rue the day they dared to raise their hooves and talons against us. So eat, drink, be merry. Tomorrow, we renew our fight, and we are going to win!”

Some few foals raised questioning wings and hooves, and Pensword raised his own hooves placatingly in response. “We will get the flag back, eventually, but our main focus is to get within striking distance of the enemy’s fortress. We are smaller. That means we need closer support bases. Tomorrow, I have only one standing order. You are to take all the field control posts, and maintain them. Get us to the enemy’s gates. With all the command posts under our control, we will have possession of the multiplier. Once we have that, a carefully applied strategy will easily regain the points we lost, and allow us to overtake our opponents. If we can keep those points into the third day, we will have a key advantage. The Empire will be hard pressed to take ground, and we won’t lose a single point. They are elusive and cunning. They will conserve their main heroes for the more serious thrusts, and likely sacrifice their weaker heroes to test our defenses. They may try to use the allure of a hero as bait to get you to leave your posts. Do not engage in that trickery. The main objective is to take all the points you can by gaining complete control of the field. If the opportunity presents itself, you may claim a hero, but only if it doesn’t put the main objective in danger. Do I make myself clear?”

The foals cheered, but not very loudly as others replied with a salute and a, “Yes, Sir!”

“If we succeed,” Pensword continued as a sly smile pulled at his lips, “I will personally lead a school tour of the barracks at New Unity, plus a special foal-only question and answer session with any of those who you look up to in New Unity.” As he suspected, the foals’ eyes lit up with excitement at the news. The carrot had been dangled, and the children had taken it hook, line, and sinker. “Now,” he began as he looked with a defiant grin at Hard Hat, and then winked in Pip’s father’s direction. “Who wants to hear some stories about rebellions? I’m sure it’s likely to upset old Hard Shell here, but it is the theme of our battle, after all. And besides,” he added as he raised a hoof to his cheek, and whispered loudly, “if he objects, it will allow us the perfect excuse to bury him in the snow.”

Pip’s father stood up, and pulled out a fake wooden sword he’d prepared for the occasion. “And if any of you here object, they can join him.” A veritable avalanche of laughter filled the half as the rest of the foals and parents raised their mugs and cookies in a toast, while Hard Hat let out a series of incredibly disgruntled grumbles as he folded his hooves petulantly.

Pensword chuckled as he began to weave his tale, drawing upon Matthew’s memories to spice things up. He spoke of momentous events, battles that seemed hopeless, daring retreats, and many feats of strategy. However, each of the stories he told had the same underlying theme: you don’t have to win every battle, just survive, live to fight again, and above all, never lose hope.

Later that night, Pensword was busy drinking a concoction Luna had prepared to allow him to get through the next three days on only quick power naps. He had placed one set of plans with Preston, another was tucked in his desk, and the real plans had been stowed in a satchel he kept under his night shirt. He bunked down only to have his door opened as three familiar foals entered the room. Inigo, Day Moon, and Cristo looked somewhat nervously at one another, before taking up guard positions. Each wore their rebel armor, and carried an individual scroll at their belts identical to the decoys Pensword had placed.

Pensword shook his head. “What is…?” He paused as Matthew remembered one team’s tactics at a football game, where they sewed football shapes on their uniforms, and put their arms over their chests, as if they were carrying footballs. His mouth slowly widened into a grin. If the effectiveness of the plan was in doubt before, he was almost certain it would work now. No matter who lost their scrolls, the enemy would have a false set of plans, and none would be the wiser for it.

“I’m so proud of you boys,” he whispered. “Good night, my sons.”

“Good night, Dad,” They all said at once.

Day Moon spoke up just as Pensword was finally starting to nod off. “Uh, Dad, which plan do you want us to guard?”

“Desk,” he muttered through a yawn. “Now good night. And remember to take shifts.” He sighed. “If your mother finds out about this....”

“Mom already gave us the drink you took. She thought you could use some night guards on duty,” Inigo said.

“Good. And do not try to steal the other team’s plans. Let them get paranoid.”

“Yes, Sir,” the three whispered.

Pensword chuckled. “Good. Now let your father get at least the three hours’ sleep he needs.” And with that, he laid on his pillow, and immediately fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamt of battle scenarios and great snow battles. It would seem Princess Luna had given him a boon as a favor to the foals. She always did have a soft spot for them. He wondered if that would carry over to the other side, when the children finally came of age. He shrugged his dream shoulders. It didn’t matter for now, anyways. Right now, he had a battle to prep for, and a war to win.

---

The dawn of the second day revealed adults and foals alike waiting in their holes and trenches. The game wouldn’t resume for another thirty minutes, yet, despite the inconvenience, they all were excited to be outside and continue the match. Assembly lines were hard at work crafting snowballs and other forms of ammunition, while snow and water were added intermittently to help build up and reinforce the fortress walls. Some foals tried to catch a few more precious minutes of sleep before the match began.

“When did this happen?” Grif asked one of his subordinates as he eyed the exposed wall of their base, where the ice and snow were eroding, thanks to the moisture in the cloud layer.

“We think it started just after we left last night. The damage is extensive. We may have to remove the cloud altogether in order to maintain integrity,” one Pegasus explained to him.

“That will take more time than we have,” Grif sighed.

“Well, we could patch the worst areas with permafrost, but who knows how long that would last?”

Grif thought about it for a few minutes. Fortunately, he hadn’t planned much today anyhow. “Recall everyone from the control points. Keep the forward guard on watch, and patch the front wall. Take half of whoever’s available, and start your work from back to front. We won’t last long, if we can’t trust our own walls.

“Yes, Sir.” The Pegasus saluted, and left immediately to make the arrangements.

“Looks like it will be your day, Pensword.” Grif sighed as he looked across the battlefield.

The signal went off, and the Foals moved forward carefully, but quickly, to find the command points practically empty. The field had been abandoned! Pensword gaped at the map as a scan confirmed the data. He looked suspiciously as he stroked his chin. This was not like Grif. Nonetheless, the plans remained the same, and the bonus would be of great use to them, once they achieved it. He quickly sent the messenger to confirm orders, and instruct each of the foals to go no further than the final command points. Once they had properly secured their positions, they would organize a scouting party.

The scouts’ reports proved more than enlightening. Many of Grif’s guards were up on the walls of their fort, while others worked on bringing ammunition for the fighters to use. That indicated one of two things. Either Grif was trying to goad Pensword into making an assault, or something had gone wrong internally. He looked speculatively at the map. The cannons were positioned in different areas and angles to ensure greater coverage. That meant they couldn’t risk too many attacks. On top of that, the children were still building up walls, and moving some of Pinkie Pie’s snow cannons forward.

That being said, the least they could do was try to hamper any further attempts to leave the fort for supplies. He hastily scrawled a note, instructing the foals to continue building up their defenses, while utilizing hit-and-run tactics to disrupt enemy activity and boost points. Once the defenses were fully in place, they could begin to surround the fortress properly, trapping the Empire in its own base. Then it wouldn’t be a matter of who captured whom or killed another. Instead, it would be a siege, and Pensword knew how to siege. Already, the wheels in his head began turning as he looked for any possible areas that might make for a good infiltration point. If they could get a stealth operative in there to release the captive foals, they could wreak some real havoc on the Empire. They could easily use the enemy’s protective nature to their advantage, dividing up the guards to make the mission easier. That being said, it would still be a risk. He would have to be exceedingly careful with his choice.

As an added precaution, he made sure to add more hero units onto the field. Assuming Grif had Ponies or Gryphons lying in wait for some hidden strategy, the units would act as powerful incentive to pull them out of hiding. With the lack of warriors on the field, the initial capture strategy had to be modified. Besides, he didn’t want to win by capturing all the enemy’s forces. Where was the fun in that? Instead, he prepped his best long distance throwers, and ordered them to be deployed at the strongholds closest to the Empire’s fortress. They may not have been able to capture any more troops, but they could certainly try to pick off the Ponies on the enemy’s walls. After all, they still got points for “deaths,” and the time lapse could potentially give the opening an infiltrator would need to break through the walls and into the holding cells.

The first few probes proved disastrous. None of the first three raids made it back. The next one brought back stragglers in groups of two and three as they fled across the snow in a hasty retreat. Grif had planned his defenses well. No matter what angle of entry they tried, at least six or seven sentries were at the ready to fire back and halt the attack. The enemy cannons fired half-hearted volleys at Pensword’s walls, but those proved incapable of significant damage. It seemed that, for now, Grif was content with keeping his base safe.

The day dragged on. With the fortifications finally complete, and reinforcing equipment installed, things had come to a standstill. Pensword still had the advantage of numbers, but that was a slim advantage when compared to the experience and training of the enemy. If they really wanted to do some damage, they needed to free the prisoners. He held his breath, anxious for the first thing to go wrong, but nothing happened. No great attacks came. No troops were trapped or destroyed. No traitor advanced on the fields. Still, even if they had, this contest would teach the foals a valuable lesson, not only preparing them to handle pressure and potential defeat, but also helping them to think more like soldiers, which could prove advantageous to the next generation of Equestria’s military.

“He’s taunting us,” Grif growled as he looked to Lighting Dust, who was currently dressed in a brown robe. Her fur and mane had been enchanted to look pale white with her eyes almost glowing red. “He’s actually gloating.”

Lighting Dust gave Grif an inquisitive look. “How so? As far as I can tell, he’s just sitting there, digging into the capture points. How is that gloating?”

“He’s sent a few random pokes at our defense, but, for the most part, he’s just sitting and watching us, putting hero units out in the open.” Grif sighed.

“So why not go attack the hero units?” Dust replied with an irritated snort.

“Because he’s planned for that,” Grif retorted. “He’ll have shock squads hidden in the control points to attack the moment we strike.”

“So it’s a standstill, then,” she mused. “Will he actually try to attack us? The hole in the wall’s been patched. They won’t be able to break in easily. So what should we do about all this?” She paused suddenly as a grim smile pulled at the edges of her face. “I’ll get in. I’m the fastest warrior we have. I can easily reclaim one of the control points.”

“We can’t risk an attack, until the walls are finished,” Grif insisted. “It would leave us too widespread and vulnerable.”

Lightning Dust frowned. “I hate waiting,” she muttered.

“Impatience is death.” Grif shrugged. “Sometimes you need to wait for an opportunity to present itself.”

“And if it doesn’t present itself?”

“Then we will have to make an opportunity.” Grif raised a pondering talon to his beak as he thought about the prisons in Pensword’s base, which were currently stuffed to near capacity. If only there was some way to free them. Suddenly, a cruel smile sprung up on his face. “Lighting, find me a rune crafter. An … interesting thought has occurred to me.”

“Right away!” Lightning Dust saluted, before speeding off so quickly that she pulled snowflakes in her wake.

---

Pensword was busy performing a personal inspection of the fort’s prison, and smiled as he gazed in on the captured Gryphons, who were currently eating cookies and drinking hot cocoa. The bars glowed with magic that Dinky had placed in the cells. Pensword wasn’t one to gloat, but he believed the children and he were doing doing fairly well. He had yet to utter a single word about his plans, let alone the backup strategies he had compiled for emergency situations. He walked through the hallways as he inspected each separate place and glow. He smiled at each of the prisoners, while his three sons worked busily at their security posts. Somewhere, rumors had reached his ears that Moon River was flitting about as well, having her own brand of fun around the fortress. At this point, Matthew was looking forward to the fourth day and the free-for-all to come.

He paused at one of the Gryphons. “I hope your stay is well within the guidelines presented in the treatment of POWs, as passed down by the Snowball Fighting League.”

“Everything is fine,” the Gryphon replied in an even, controlled tone.

“I’ll make sure we get you an extra couple of cookies from Sugar Cube corner, then.” Pensword continued silently on his way, though not for long. Day Moon was soon at his side, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Something’s up. I can feel it in the air, in the tips of my wings. Be ready for anything,” Pensword whispered softly. “Keep an eye on them. And if something happens, act, but don’t risk losing troops.” With those words, the commander left the jail wing of the base to check up in the situation room.

Meanwhile, back in the imperial base, Grif looked over as one of his Unicorns finished the runic formations on the paper. “And you’re certain these will do exactly as I requested, right down to the timing, Mister Crafter?”

“I had to rework the matrices a bit,” Etchwork Crafter said as he checked his work. “Experiment with crossing a few different designs, but they should do exactly what you need, when magic is applied.”

“And they can be carved in any surface?”

“Anything solid enough to retain a shape, yes,” the Unicorn nodded.

Grif’s eyes glowed an unholy reddish-yellow. “Good. Take the receiver rune and get some other Unicorns to help you. Find an out-of-sight space, and work on a rune large enough for what we plan.”

“But without the transmitting runes, the receiver won’t be of much use.”

“I have a plan.” Grif chuckled darkly. “Bring me Lighting Dust, Espionage, and Camouflage. And Rumble.” He couldn’t field Rumble as a hero unit again, but he imagined Pensword would still want him caught. Grif chuckled to himself as the Unicorn left to carry out the order. He used a quill to draw out several tiny copies of one of the designs onto the other sheets, and attached a small bit of magic to each, before ripping the sheets into fine shreds. The runes glowed, turning and rotating with each tear, before dying away. Phase one had begun.

Pensword watched from his place in the command center, watching the map and enjoying the reports. They had just taken two Gryphons prisoner who had tried to take action into their own talons. He held them in one of the command posts nearest the base for now, while they debated on whether to let them go or put them into jail. Ten foals stood guard under the command of three white Thestrals. The question was whether this would be enough. He sighed as he looked at the map. If Grif’s plan was to tie him up by watching the extra prisoners, it was a plan that was working wonderfully.

Suddenly the sound of battle raged out front.

“Sir! News from the front.” Pipsqueak ran in, half breathless. “A mass attack had been mounted on our central control point. Grif must be desperate. He sent all three hero units after us, and some reports claim they saw Rumble amongst the army. Preston already got a counter attack together, and is leading the charge.”

“Good. Let Preston maintain the lead, but pull only two off the other points for reserve, and double the guards on all entrances. You and your select friends head to the jails. This feels like a feint. Also, if we capture Rumble, keep him separate from the others. In fact, put him into the cells we had planned for Grif and his inner circle. I feel like we are walking into a trap, so I want to be ready to snap it shut on them, not us.”

Five minutes later, the sound of foals cheering was heard as Preston and his group marched in seventeen mixed imperial troops and all three heros. Preston himself lead a certain colt to Pensword. “I figured you’d want to meet this prisoner personally, Commander,” he said with a snicker.

“Thank you, Preston,” Pensword replied as he eyed the prisoners. “Take the normal troops for processing. The Heroes get to stay in another part of the base. Pip, blindfold them, and we’ll lead them to their own private quarters.” He smirked as he leaned in to whisper in their ears. “I hope you enjoy your stay, you three. As you get some baked muffins, you’ll be watched by your own special guard. Well, two guards. Mr. and Mrs. Scarecrow, we have three POWs for you.”

The heroes knew by scent and voice that the two code named guards were really Time Turner and Derpy, and shuddered at what that could entail, should they step out of line. “Enjoy your stay,” Pensword said as he let them go. “Preston, I want a debrief now,” he ordered, then turned to face his Changeling aide de camp. “Start from the moment you decided to gather troops, and give me a play-by-play recap.”

Back in the cell blocks, the troops were locked up quickly and efficiently. They made more than the usual fuss and half-hearted threats about what they’d do, once they got out, but once the door slammed shut, they seemed to pacify. They joked with the other prisoners, and told stories about daring escapes and brushes with death. Strangely enough, they began to play tic tac toe. Each of the groups in the cell blocks have carved their own little boards in the ice. Naturally, with each match, they they had to spread out further. A few other prisoners began to make false time records of their stay, seemingly covering months, and still others began carving graffiti. It seems like they were attempting to make the cells look more like they’d been used before. None of the guards thought much of it. None of them really saw a pattern as the works began to cross, distracted by the argument about who had ruined whose carving, game, or count.

Meanwhile, after having finished his careful debriefing with Pensword, Preston had shared a laugh with the commander about how furious Grif appeared from the wall, performed his usual duties, then checked on the reserves to ensure they were properly stocked. Every once in awhile, he’d drop a few bits of paper, nothing to worry about, really. They were probably spent taking notes on each of the storage counts, nothing of consequence in the grand scheme of the battle.

That was the last major skirmish before the lunch break. When the alarm sounded, both sides were pretty much intact from what they had been at the end of the skirmish. The repairs on the imperial base were almost finished. And as the troops took out their ration packs and began to eat, Grif allowed himself a faint smile. The game was afoot.

The foal side broke out their own meals, the POWs were fed, and a few of the foals feeding them got curious, adding their own little games of tic-tac-toe, just for fun. A few others marked extra lines, before closing the cell doors and taking their meals, enjoying one another’s company.

The three heroes had a cell to their own, and, per Pensword’s orders, were fed muffins and butter, courtesy of Derpy, albeit … without her permission. Derpy chastised The Doctor for using her personal stash, which led to many a snicker around the quarters. Despite the joviality of the setting, Pensword was on edge. Something was going to happen after lunch. He could feel it. He’d given written orders that he hoped would preserve the troop numbers, in case something else happened, but he hoped things wouldn’t. He could feel that Pegasus instinct, that dislike of losing as Rainbow Dash put it. It was not a good sign.

Preston made the rounds, as was expected, making sure food was distributed fairly. He’d even dropped off an extra cup of soup personally to Derpy and The Doctor. He’d also, surprisingly, had words with Rumble, who had taken his capture a little too seriously. Preston had been forced to restrain him temporarily, until the tantrum eased.

Preston had kept his own meal quick and easy, eating his entree first. He placed the other components of the meal in his armor compartments, and ate casually as he did rounds, checking on the foals, and even making a visit to the infirmary.

Pensword sighed as he leaned back in the interrogation room, using a technique he’d developed in the field to catch a quick power nap, before the bells to start the afternoon attacks sounded. He closed his eyes for what seemed like moments, then came to with Pip shaking him awake. He grinned, and thanked Pip with a silent pat on the head, before he moved towards Rumble. After a thorough check of the rules, he had discovered that interrogation was allowed, provided it remained humane. To ensure that remained the case, a dice rolling system had been conceived, based on a recommendation from Big Mac. The higher the roll, the easier it was to get information. The lower the roll, the more easily the prisoner could hold on to what they had, and potentially even weasel something out of his or her captors. It was a risk, but one Pensword was willing to take.

“Why?” was all he began with. A magic pedestal with a circle of plain wood tiles and a purple marble diamond embedded in its center suddenly sprung to life as the stone glowed, projecting a gigantic 20-sided die. The white background tiles pulsed with energy as the runic circuitry within them helped to channel and distribute the magic in such a way as to not overload the system.

The die began to spin faster and faster in the air, to the point where it was practically unseeable. Then it stopped, and disappeared to reveal the number two. Pensword winced, and Rumble smirked.

“The force is weak with you, Commander Pensword. Or should I call you Matthew?”

Pensword’s posture changed. “I was more of a Trekkie than a Star Wars fan,” Matthew muttered. “But I will ask again. Why did you go this way? Do you not know the eventual fate of the one whom you are modeling this hero character on?”

The dice rolled, and the projection of the number fourteen appeared this time. Rumble shrugged at the sight. “I suppose I could give you that much. Big brother was sick, so I had to stand in. I’ve done it before.”

“Family, huh? I guess that I cannot fault you for that, then,” he sighed. “But what I want to know now is, why were you captured? I doubt Grif would have allowed it, unless he felt you outlived your usefulness. So what are you planning? Why do you wish to be here?”

Rumble chuckled as the dice display pulled up a seven. “Maybe I just missed talking to my friends,” he said mockingly.

“This die system…” Pensword growled. “Matthew, your luck is showing again in dice.” He grumbled several angry phrases that were most definitely not suitable for polite conversation. “Okay, Rumble. I would like to start a little simpler now. What is the name of your hero?”

Meanwhile, in the reserve room, the small slips of paper Preston had dropped glowed, and pulled slowly together, uncrumpling and unraveling as they repaired the tears. All signs of damage faded off the fragments, and the newly repaired sheets of paper now displayed their own runic designs. All were identical, and all activated at the same time, glowing a sickly green color as an outer row of notches began to blink rapidly, one after the other, until the entire ring blinked. Then one of the notches vanished, and the process started again.

Back in the interrogation chamber, Rumble leaned back in his chair, and smacked his hind hooves onto the desk with a loud clop. The dice had rolled thirteen. “Star Killer,” he said simply. “Pretty apt, considering how many of your heroes I took out, before you could catch me.”

“True, but now it is we who shall be holding you. We have given it just as good as you gave us. I know you have something planned. And–” he stood up and leaned forward “–you Will tell me what you know,” he said as he shoved himself in Rumble’s face, and narrowed his gaze. “I will know what it is you know, because this was too easy. You were too easy to catch.”

Meanwhile, back in the cells, Preston entered without a second glance. He reached out casually with his magic, and the guards slumped to sleep, unprepared to resist the spell. The Changeling gathered them up carefully, and placed them where they would not be harmed. Then he moved to the center of the room, and activated his horn. Magic tendrils jumped from his horn to the scratches on the floor. It flooded the trenches, moving in careful, precise patterns of deeper scratches left in an oh-so-carefully concealed design. The prisoners inside moved to the center of the cell as the runes spread, and came to life around them. Their bodies glowed a whitish blue, before they dissolved into bright blue light, and entered into the rune paths. Then the runes in each cell pulled out through the bars and fused together under Preston.

Rumble looked somewhat uneasily at the 15. “You won’t succeed, you know. Your rebel forces aren’t all united to your cause,” he said somewhat smugly. “Who knows? Perhaps someone is listening in right now, sending back a live feed to the emperor, even as we speak. Isn’t that a pleasant thought?”

“I find that hard to believe. We removed anything that could even be used for a later powerup for….” He paused as his eyes widened. “It’s a trap,” he gasped. He turned, and bellowed as he galloped out of the chamber. “PIP!” he roared. They had only a minute before the bells would blow, but that was all the enemy would need. “PIP! Emergency sweep. It’s a trap! We’ve still got a mole. General Quarters! General Quarters muster!” he cried, ringing through the base, and startling many a foal from their lunch.

As The Doctor and Derpy slept pleasantly outside the cell, Lighting Dust, Camo, and Espio all laughed as a runic symbol began to glow under their manes, thanks to the timed energy release spell Preston had set during lunch. Their bodies dissolved into blue-white energy, and the runes now floating in the air moved through the cell doors, down the halls, and towards the cell rooms.

Meanwhile, back in the interrogation room, Rumble smiled as his own rune began to glow. He slammed a dagger into the table, and smirked at the inscription: You just got played. Better Luck Next Time. “See ya later, Pensword. Good luck stopping this prison break.” Then his own body dissolved, and the rune moved through the door and down the hall to join the rest.

When Preston identified the last piece had joined, he finished the spell, and allowed his own form to be absorbed into the rune. The design spun faster and faster on the floor. Then, in a bright flash, as the bell rang in the background, it vanished, leaving the room empty, save for a few sleeping guards and a large melted circle in the floor.

At that moment the last of the notches on the runes in the reserve room burned out, and the papers consumed themselves in green fire, sending a massive wave of heat through the room. The ice held fast, but the snowballs weren’t so lucky.

In the back of the imperial base, a similar rune formula began glowing brightly with the same blue-white light. It covered the entire room quickly, all the stored magical energy being unloaded in quick rapid bursts as three heroes, one spy, several dozen troops, and one foal where ejected from it.

“My emperor,” Preston said, greeting Grif with a bow as he entered the room. “It is my pleasure to report total mission success.”

“Very good, my grand inquisitor. Very good.” Grif chuckled darkly as the troops filed out to supplement the people on defense. He returned to his command room and his chessboard. He’d lost several pieces that day, but, with great satisfaction, he knocked the white rook over.

The alarms in the Rebel base blared, and all took stock as foals were woken up. They soon discovered the havoc the spell had wreaked on their stockpiles, leaving little more than puddles of ice water. For the rest of that day, Pensword had a very dark scowl on his muzzle. Despite all that, he was careful to maintain control. Angry outbursts would do nothing to repair the damage that had been done. He put more guards out into the three control points facing Grif to help bolster their defenses: rebuilding their snowball reserves and strengthening the walls. A final headcount revealed Preston was nowhere to be seen. Then it clicked.

Pensword let out a loud stream of words in something that was neither Draconic, Equestrian, nor anything found on Equis: a mixture of Japanese with some German mixed with two Chinese words. What could be deciphered by his calm mind later was one phrase:

“May you live in interesting times and see long enough to find all your plans turned to ash and ruin. May all you have built fall upon your head either tonight or next year.”

He then spoke one word against himself. “Baka.” He retreated to his own room, and spoke again, this time louder. “Dummkopf.” He smacked his head against the ice wall. “How could I have been blind? I trusted Preston, and he.…” he unfolded his wings and pressed them against the wall. With his initial anger spent, a cold fury was replacing it. Grif had used his friends against him, he had gotten to turn his own aide de camp against him. Grif would feel his wrath on the morrow. And worst of all, he had been complacent enough to allow it.

An hour later, he exited his room. The foals looked on him and immediately moved aside. Many shuddered at the intense gaze. Pensword looked down at them all. “Tomorrow, revenge will be served to the Empire for doing this,” he said quietly, “for tearing those we trusted from us and twisting them. It is clear to me now that Grif wants me to treat this seriously. As such, we will have one hour extra set aside tonight, during which I will train you as fully as I can. Rest assured, I will make sure that the army of Sun Tzu comes calling tomorrow.”

---

Twilight walked over to Hammer Strike and smiled at the small piece of spring in the midst of winter the lord had created, simply by lying on a lawn chair with Rarity at his side. She was drinking from a half coconut shell drink with the little paper umbrella and a loopy straw.

“What do you think of the battle so far, Hammer Strike?” Twilight asked as she looked back. She winced as she heard Pensword’s stream of swearing.

“It’s certainly entertaining, I’ll give them that,” he replied simply.

“Really? According to my calculations, Grif will be taking the lead on points awarded for tactics. Assuming Pensword operates on an all-or-nothing strategy, it’s highly likely Grif and his forces will overwhelm them, especially since his forces are at their full strength now. The rebels will be lucky, if they manage to maintain even half their ground.”

“We’ll see how things go when they happen, eh? Predicting a battle isn’t something that can normally be done, especially off the data we have now. Variables change all the time in a mere second.”

“But they’re fully grown adults trained in full battle against foals! It would take a tactical genius to even attempt overthrowing them. Even then, the foals would have to inspired. Moral’s at an all time low after Grif’s prison break. They’re literally hanging by a strand.”

“There are other variables that can never be accounted for, Twilight. What about individual error, luck, atmospheric anomalies, and an overall scope of everyone’s mindset out there?”

“I suppose,” she mused. “But if you’re so confident, how about we set a little mage’s wager? I believe Grif will claim the victory. If Grif wins, you’ll have to let me have the next– and only the next –chapter in the Thaumaturgy book. I’m not insane, after all.”

Hammer Strike took a sip of a tropical beverage courtesy of Berry Punch. “You’ve been training with Clover in battle magic, correct?”

“Yes,” Twilight replied. “I’m still nowhere close to her level, though.”

“Then how about this? If he loses, you’ll spend a day training like I trained Celestia and Luna,” Hammer Strike replied as his casual smile widened to a sinister grin.

Twilight heard rumors, and her mind said it would be bad to accept. Every instinct screamed at her to back down. She may well have been an Alicorn, but was she really at the same level as Celestia and Luna? And yet, if she were to back down, it would show a lack of nerve, a lack of spine, and an unwillingness to take risks. Another minute or so of indecision finally broke with her answer. She shoved a hoof out, and nodded decisively. “It’s a deal.”

Hammer Strike’s grin never left his face as he shook her hoof.

“We’ll see who wins tomorrow, then. If you’ll excuse me, the day will end in another–” she looked at the sky “–hour. We’ll need to start wrapping up point compilation. See you at tonight's party?”

“Certainly.”

Rarity waited till Twilight was out of hearing range. “So … you’ll at least give her a couple of days to prepare, right?” she replied idly as she sat up to start polishing Seamripper. “Half the town has a betting pool on her freakouts. They’d be so disappointed to lose the chance to see it”

“I’ll give her an hour, just like Celestia and Luna.”

“Fair enough. That means Spike might win the next pool.”

---

The panel of judges convened for the second time as the sun hung low over the horizon. After another fifteen minutes of discussion and intense debate, they came back with the daily totals. The Rebels earned the higher of the points that day at 1075, thanks to the multiplier they’d managed to achieve in seizing the control points on the field. This, combined with the number of soldiers they had been able to peg off Grif’s ramparts gave them a much needed boost, launching them forward to a whopping total of 1936 points. Unfortunately, the loss of their prisoners cut heavily into the bonus they had been hoping to achieve, but at least they were still afloat.

Thanks to incredible ingenuity and cold strategy in the face of hardship, the Empire pulled out with a total of 554 points. When added to the previous day’s totals, they landed at a comfortable 1568. The two teams differed by roughly 300 points. Day three would truly be the battle of the year. Honor, glory, vengeance. All were on the line, and both teams knew it. Grif gritted his teeth a little at the loss of their lead, but he accepted it. His troops had worked hard, and they’d accomplished nothing short of a miracle that day.

While the Empire left the field for a well-deserved rest, Pensword and the foals were busy gathering in one of the fields outside the main combat zone. The commander stood on a small platform as the foals lined up in proper rank and file, according to their leader’s instructions. He looked over them as he nodded to one of his sons, who banged an order on the drums. Some of the foals turned smartly to the right, some swung to the left, and some simply stood there in utter confusion.

Pensword sighed. As he had suspected, the children still had a ways to go. “Right. We have some learning to do, kids. When you hear that particular beat on the drum, you will turn to face your right. When you hear this one–.” He signaled to the young thestral, who grinned as he played another drumbeat. “–You turn left.” He nodded again. With each new pattern, he correlated the proper instruction. Discipline and unity would play a large role in tomorrow’s battle. He had to make sure the foals would be able to act on instructions at the drop of a hat, or the beat of a drum in this case.

After a good fifteen minutes had passed, Pensword nodded his head in approval. “Good. Now that you have the basics down, let’s take this from the beginning.” The rest of the time was taken up committing the commands to memory, and responding to them effectively.

As his men went to rest and enjoy their evening, Grif looked over the map. Tomorrow was the last chance. It was win or lose with no in-between. If the empire was going to pull out any chance of victory, he was going to have to go on a major offensive. Fortunately, he now possessed the numbers to do so. He also had three more hero units allowed for the final day. His cloud shapers had come to him with some interesting potential strategies that, while they pushed the boundaries, still resided in the rules of the game. One thing Grif was certain of: the next day’s coming battle would prove to be the most intense of the three days. He’d seen the look in Pensword’s eye. It seemed he was finally stepping up to the plate, and it was time for the Gryphon to respond in kind.

“One day more.” He chuckled to himself as Les Miserables played through his head. Whatever happened tomorrow would be the end of the organized battle for another year. The fourth day would simply be for fun. Nevertheless, Grif dreaded the day Moon River could join in, or even his own daughters. As he picked through the concept designs his troops had put out, one stood out to him most, and he laughed. ‘Oh, yes. That will do nicely,’ he thought to himself.

Pensword and the foals entered the village, making their way towards the Punch Bowl as they marched in unison. The grim looks on their faces made it almost feel like Unity’s militia were marching through the streets, rather than a band of children. Pensword was certain the show would resonate with at least a few of the Pegasus citizens in the town. Hopefully, Ponyville would get their own militia in the coming bill. A series of toy drums rolled together as Pegasus foals took to the air, while Unicorn foals that could use magic lit their horns. Even though Pensword was at the head of the column, and thus unable to enjoy the show, he could picture it, and that image alone sent a shudder of pleasure through him from head to tail.

They reached the doors, and the drums sounded again as lines peeled off and entered single file into the tavern. It seemed that even though they were off the field, they had yet to leave it mentally. This time, the foals didn’t boast. They didn’t talk. They remained somber as they ate in silence, their minds cast over their stations and the coming morrow with one order echoing through their minds: hold the line, and capture as many enemies as possible. They would change as needed, according to Pensword’s orders. The numbers were there, but they would need to cut off some of Grif’s troops before the commander’s plan could be put into effect. They would wait till lunch. After that, well … they would have to see. For now, it was time for dinner.

Gilda had been looking out the window, and found herself shivering at the display she just saw. “Grif!” she squawked.

---

All was quiet as the third day dawned. A cold wind whipped at the snow, causing the occasional flurry to dance across the drifts and sparkle in the sun. Foals peaked out from their places in the command points and the rebel fort itself, while Grif’s troops waited patiently within their fortress for the signal to commence the battle. Hot chocolate venders and confectionery chefs were busy distributing warm refreshment to the host of Ponies as they awaited the final round that would decide the conflict once and for all. Would the Empire reign supreme, or would the Rebels find the way to the ultimate victory and the sweet freedom of bragging rights that would follow? Only time would tell.

Clover, Vinyl, and Twilight sat at their table in a magically protected pavilion, where a series of viewing crystals had been embedded to give them miniature projections with status updates on the game’s progress. Referees stood on sight at the borders of the field, ready to intercede, should either side break the rules to try to win.

At last, Vital Spark strolled out into the middle of the field, and looked to each side. “Are the competitors ready?” he called.

“Ready,” Grif confirmed from his end.

Pensword kept his eyes on Grif as he nodded his head. “Bring it.”

“Then let the furies of Winter ride, and the battle rage once more!” Vital launched a brilliant ball of light into the skies, and hastily retreated as it burst apart, dropping sparks to the ground as the winds began to pick up, and the skies began to darken with snow-laden clouds.

Pensword did not react outwardly as he returned to the fort, and rallied the defense. But the clouds were far too ominous to be ignored. This was not in the forecast. All the same, Pensword struggled to keep the smile off his face as Matthew struggled to the surface. He loved these kinds of surprises in strategy.

“Advance!” Grif called as he flew over his troops and back to the fort.

“Roger roger,” one Changeling acknowledged as columns began exiting the bases and swarming the control points in a trident attack. Meanwhile, the clouds in the area were being gathered together and pulled into one mass.

The foals were gathering their own clouds over their base, and the Changelings found that, while they were knocked down with snowballs, it was far easier to push forward than they had initially anticipated. At the same time, they were still being hit from all sides, and the clouds obscured the foals, making a prediction of their attacks nigh-impossible. Eventually, they reached the central control point, which they soon discovered was heavily fortified. A veritable hailstorm of snowballs were launched, taking out the entire front column.

But much to the Rebels’ dismay, the clouds began to pull away from their control. Puff by puff, the Pegasus foals found their own magic overridden as Grif raised his talons and held the clouds before him. Controlled and carefully aimed gale force winds took the clouds by force, absorbing them into the whole.

This still only drove the foals to the trees as they held their ground. With no more prisoners to watch, the foals were free to challenge at the front lines, making for a much stronger resistance against the onslaught. All the same, Pensword could still see the clouds. He knew Grif had something planned.

He wasn’t wrong.

An hour before lunch break, Grif raised his splayed talons, and swept his hands over the battlefield. The large black spherical cloud began to unleashed a focused torrent of snow-laden wind over the control points. The snowflakes clumped together in the air, forming snowballs as they fell. This artificial snowball blizzard was contained, and frighteningly, it was concentrated. In a great mastery of the winds, Grif was able to rain attacks on their enemies without backlash. The snowballs couldn’t count as a hit by the rules, but they still required cover to dodge. The foals weren’t equipped to handle that kind of attack. The Changelings, however, walked through the weather like it was nothing, their wings hidden beneath their carapaces to leaving them completely unharmed as snow rolled off their armor.

The foals had no choice but to give up the middle control point. However, this led to overconfidence on the part of the troops, leaving them wide open for the counterattacks at the fallback positions the foals had prepared. The Empire broke through two fallback lines before they solidified again, and they were at another standstill in the fight. It was here that Preston approached to give his new report to the emperor. “Half of the droids you sent out have been eliminated by the rebels, Sir.”

“So less than a quarter of our droids.” Grif smiled. “General, why don’t you show them the rest?”

“Of course, Emperor,” Preston said as he left Grif’s side. Moments later, seven more columns filtered out from the imperial base. Preston led them, wearing a cape and a white face mask with large fins at the side. A column went to secure the central point as the other six split themselves between the other control points, the sound of their marching echoing across the battlefield. They didn’t charge. They didn’t need to.”

The Foals did their best to hold, but they had little choice save to fall back under the onslaught. The few Unicorns that could pulled unconscious foals with them in their retreat. The swarm tore through the control points to reach a full network of trenches and dugouts reaching from one end of the field to the other. However, their approach was not to last for much longer. The foals were still able to fight, and here the Changelings saw and felt the power of the snow cannons that Pinkie had provided. With the onslaught from the storm, they troops were ground-bound, which left them open to the fire at every other turn in the trenches as the sentry cannons burst one after another. Preston avoided getting buried by a hair’s breadth. Other foals jumped out of holes in the walls, flinging snowballs at a rate of one throw per second. It was a slaughter, and since the storm didn’t count towards points, the Rebels were racking in the points.

Grif looked coldly at the gate and nodded. As he did, a full column of Earth Ponies backed by Unicorns filed from the gate towards the trenches. Ping stood there at the front wearing a solid black robe. Her face had been covered in red-and-black face paint.

While the CMC had been present in the base, they had not been fielded. That wasn’t the case anymore. All three showed up at the three different mini-bases using their own special weapons given by Hammer Strike, with Button Mash as Han Solo using a slingshot with snowballs to act like a blaster. Their progress was hard and fast, granting a brief reprieve on the southern side of the field, even going so far as to begin pressing the forces back into one of the abandoned trenches. Then Nanami showed up with more reinforcements. The fight lasted ten minutes long before the bells and whistles blew. Lunchtime was upon them.

---

Grif sat at the bar counter looking into his glass of raspberry juice. “How did we lose? How did they pull it off in three hours?” he asked the glass, as if expecting an answer.

Lighting Dust shook her mane. “They had to have cheated. I mean, why would Pensword wait for the final three hours to even join the battlefield? It doesn’t make any sense!” she ranted as she slammed her mug onto the counter.

Gilda was silent. “Sir, what did happen? How did he manage to get the foals to fly in that formation?”

“It seems like he snuck in some training sessions later last night, when we'd thought they were asleep." Grif chuckled as he took a drink. “That’s Pensword for you. Now do you see why I cautioned against underestimating him?”

Gilda nodded slowly as she took a second glass of raspberry juice from Berry Punch. “I honestly thought you would win. We are Gryphons, after all.” She shrugged, then chuckled. “Guess that’ll teach me to underestimate Ponies. I can see why he was so dangerous to the Empire back in the day.” She took a sip of her drink. “The whole thing’s still pretty hard to swallow, though. I mean, we literally had every advantage. We even had control of the field, including the security points. I was sure that point bonus would put us over the top.”

“Taze once told me the reason he started this was because there is nothing in the world that could simulate the hell of war accurately, but foals in a snowball fight get pretty close. They see, they learn, they think, and worst of all, we brush that aside as nothing to be considered. If we didn’t have these rules, I can only imagine how long it would be before we’d have to deal with ice or rocks in the snowballs, just to slow us down.” He smirked, then chuckled ruefully. “We lost, because they lost last time, so they worked harder not to lose now. I suppose it’s the simplest way to look at it.”

“So, they’d really go that far, huh?” Gilda chuckled as a smile pulled at her own beak. “That seems more like Gryphon tactics than foal. Maybe those little furballs aren’t so lame after all.”

“Foal’s blood is hotter than ours sometimes. The fire of competition, the need to win. Not all parents teach their children the same morals, and not all Ponies have a good nature. You talk about our chicks and our race like we’re superior, because of our blood, but I know for a fact that half a dozen chicks came home with bloodied beaks because they picked fights with the wrong foals.”

“Let me guess,” Lightning Dust said after letting loose a belch. It would seem her drink was just a tad harder than the rest. “Pegasus and Thestral foals?”

“Actually from what my sources tell me, two Unicorns and an Earth Pony.” Grif laughed when he saw Lightning’s disbelieving face.

Lighting slammed her empty mug down, but said no more as she put her forehead on the counter, and shook her head. Clearly, she was done putting her hoof into her mouth.

“Is that really so surprising, Lighting? Your race has lighter bone structure. I mean, you developed resilience to permanent damage and whatnot, but, as a foal, a pegasus isn’t really that formidable,” Grif noted as he patted the soldier consolingly on her back.

“Who would have thought?” Lightning finally murmured. “I should’ve stayed with Pensword,” she moaned.

“Wasn’t a choice.” Grif shrugged as he polished off his glass. “He gave me a list of the adults who were to work with him. You weren’t on it. Besides, you enjoyed yourself. You know you did,” he teased.

Lightning continued to grumble into the counter as the rest of the troops laughed. “Yeah, but I thought we would win.” She sighed heavily, then turned her head to face the fabric divider. “I wonder how they’re celebrating.”

“Gilda, what did the archer Gil’lean say about learning how to hit?” Grif asked suddenly.

“You have to learn how to miss,” Gilda replied.

“Learn how to miss? How’s that supposed to help?” Lightning fumed.

“Death is part of the warrior's life,” Grif said. “When one lifts his or her weapon to an opponent in any battle, they must accept that losing is a very real possibility. To fight is to bring about a death; either yours or your opponents. To truly win in battle, you first need to make peace with your own defeat, a sentiment Hurricane himself wrote about.”

“I hate even thinking about defeat.” She turned her head, and closed her eyes. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” she groaned.

Grif shrugged. “Then you will never truly taste victory. Go into weather management, Lighting Dust. If you cannot see this truth, the military is beyond you.”

Lighting Dust growled, but said nothing else as she glared defiantly at him.

Grif chuckled at the sight. “We’ll make something out of you yet,” he whispered, before signaling Berry for another glass.

---

Meanwhile, the foals on the other side of the divider were enjoying themselves, celebrating their victory in true foalish style. Fruit juice flowed liberally from the pitchers as various servers assisted with the meal. The children continued to carouse, laughing, chatting, bragging, and recounting the many daring exploits that would surely grant them fame and notoriety throughout the town. Aside from that, though, they were just enjoying a final conclusion after a tiring three days. Already, some few foals had begun to yawn, and they still had the free-for-all to worry about tomorrow.

Pensword smiled warmly at them, while favoring his left hoof. Unfortunately, he’d hurt it during the last hour of the game, but that wasn’t about to dampen his spirits, after all he and his little troops had accomplished together. At this rate, soon Thestrals would have another door open to bring them into the mainstream of Equestria as they entered into sporting events and other competitions. If he knew children, and he knew children quite well, this competition would likely spread across the kingdom, once the military had been reestablished. He flipped a page casually to begin the next chapter of his book. The Art of War stood boldly on the cover in gold embossed letters. Fortunately, nopony in Ponyville knew how to read English yet, with perhaps the one exception of Twilight. He sighed as he watched a familiar stallion approach him out of the corner of his eye, then rolled his eyes in resignation. “Yes, Hard Hat? What is it?”

Much to Pensword’s surprise, Snails was actually pushing his father forward, causing the Earth Pony’s hooves to scrape against the hardwood floors.

“Yes, yes,” Hard Hat grumbled. He looked to Pensword, and rubbed his green mane as he cleared his throat. Finally, he brought himself to stare the commander in the eye. “Let’s just get this over with. Thank you for helping my boy to win. It made him feel special, and I’m proud he had the chance to shine. There. I said it.” With that done, he turned promptly, and made a beeline for the half of the bar on the foal side of the room.

Pensword blinked in surprise, before looking back at the book. “Well, today is full of surprises,” he muttered as he looked up when something was slammed down on his table. “Oh, hi, Dinky, Scootaloo, Pip, Button Mash, Sweetie Belle, Applebloom.” His skilled eyes soon fell on the new accessories Pip and Button wore proudly on their chests. “Oh dear,” he muttered. “I guess the Cutie Mark Crusaders just got some new members?”

“Yep!” Scootaloo replied, not noticing the blushes on the other two fillies. “And we know what we want to try for our cutie marks tomorrow: Snipers.”

“You do realize that tomorrow is the free-for-all, right?” Pensword asked.

“Yes, but we can have informal treaties for not attacking, and you know the foals and the adults will create pacts, so they don't have to watch their backs all the time,” Dinky responded.

“It will just be better if I nod and agree, and help you try to get a cutie mark tomorrow, won’t it?” he asked resignedly.

“Yup,” Sweetie Belle agreed with her usual smile, when a shadowy figure suddenly jumped down from the rafters. The foals jumped in surprise, and a couple screamed briefly, before they realized just who that shadowy figure was. Lunar Fang kissed her husband on the cheek, and whispered in his ear.

Pensword smiled goofily. “I love you, too, dear,” he whispered, before looking at the CMC. “Why not? It’ll be fun to teach the next generation. We can bring the boys along, too, if they want.” The sudden use of a contraction prompted Lunar Fang to kiss him on the cheek yet again.

“Now that we've had time to celebrate victory or drown defeat, can we please take this divider down, so I can get my place back to normal?” Berry’s voice rang over both sides from where she stood perfectly divided by said curtain. Unanimous cheers arose, mingled with laughter as Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Twilight worked to bring the divider down. Truly, the division had come to an end, and Rumble raced happily to join his friends on the other side as troops and citizens mingled to discuss the games, and perhaps to find a bit of romance.

The rest of the night would go smoothly as every Pony and Gryphon reveled in the after party. Pensword decided to call it an early night to get some proper sleep. Thankfully he had been able to rent a room above the tavern. A couple of hours later, the party tapered off as foals and parents slowly slipped off for bed, so they could enjoy the next day’s free-for-all.

Twilight walked somewhat sheepishly towards Hammer Strike. “Do I have enough time to make preparations, or did you want to start right away?”

“If you want to keep the experience as close to authentic as possible, you have an hour from now.”

Twilight nodded, and blinked away in a flash of teleportation. She reappeared a half hour later, dressed in light armor embedded with environmental runes to help keep her temperature regulated. Her focus hovered in her magic as she nodded to Hammer Strike. “I’m ready,” she said confidently. “At least I hope,” she muttered to herself.

“Trust me, you aren’t,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smile. “If you knew what was in store, you wouldn’t have made that bet.”

Twilight just looked at Hammer Strike, and shrugged. “You were planning it anyway. Might as well get this over with quickly.”

Hammer Strike chuckled. “Oh, this’ll be anything but quick.”

Author's Note:

This author note is to celebrate a moment in History.

Today's chapter was delayed due to the Total Eclipse that was happening this day, 21 August 2017. While I only got to see 97% complete, I was able to see the full 100% eclipse on the computer.

I want to say that this was an amazing site that I will not forget. So thank you very much for being patient with this.

Comments

[Skydancer]

And the Empire strikes out! Good to see Silver Spear is starting to reintegrate with society.

And First! (heehee!)

[Jirodyne]

Gilda looked like she was about to make a retort, but thought better of it, before turning and leaving, wondering that very same question. Grif actually caught his eye wandering as she did. With a supreme act of will, he forced himself away from her retreating form. Where had that come from?

Welp, looks like we've found wife number 4

[Booster Spice]

Youd have thought Griff wouldve realised he was in trouble when Snails patch read 617.

Lest we forget.

Sorry for the extreme lack of comment compared to usual, but, what can I say. its a brilliant cross between the main 3 and at least a couple extra movies in the franchise havent seen yet, and a foals snowball fight, with some really nasty and sneaky magical additions.

Its a good thing Griff didnt have time or design to build that giant icebarrel reinforced with cyclonic winds that fired monster snowballs by air pressure behind it caused by six sequentially air compressing sprung loaded ice pistons reloaded by an Earth pony treadmill or ropes or other mechanism.

[Night_Striker]

great chapter and i really should preoretise my sleep better.

and would be intresting if moon river was in the free for all whit her mother that would be something.

also great shapter as allways!! keep it upp guys you doing an great work

[EdBecerra]

Same here. A little over 97%, but I didn't feel like leaving my neighbor (she lives alone) and driving for an hour to see full totality. It was still glorious. :D

[jack the reaper]

Seriously ? Star wars.

PS next snow war do 40k warhammer

Skulls for the skull throne blood for the blood god

[lassesp2142]

Hmm points seems to align to 2 historical rebellions, fits the theme of the fight aswell. 1568 the eighty years war. And 1936 the Spanish revolution.
Awesome chapter btw ;)

[ihatehaters1994]

8369611
Hey what happened with fluttershy? Did she decide to stay a thestral?