Firefly Chapter 27 at 8100 words and climbing · 7:04pm May 14th, 2020
With a major denouement planned, this is going to be a big one; maybe reaching 14k words or more before all is said and done. I've still got a lot of writing to do, and I'd rather not break it up into two chapters if I can at all help it. Only reason I would is if it reaches 16k words, which is kind of my unofficial limit on a single chapter.
A teaser? Sure, a brief one. I promised there would be a new perspective on this war, and I'll reveal it here:
To the readers of this tale, both ponies of Equestria and the heirs to the Empire who live under the Gryphon Kingdom alike:
‘Tis with great reluctance I take up the quill pen after initially declining the offer to do so, one given me by Captain Firefly herself. ‘Tis simply never been the way of my kind, whose work must remain in the shadows as much as possible. But stories we have, and this one I have been persuaded by the course of this recounting and a personal appeal from Captain Firefly, one passed to me by Swift Strike, to tell upon learning of the secret I held. Who am I, you ask?
I am a Raven.
I look at those words, and I cannot believe I just wrote them, let alone that I am going to keep them. That I am not going to burn this manuscript even but three paragraphs in, but rather finish it and then give it to an Equestrian counterpart for inclusion in an accounting of the Great War.
I am aware my very title evokes hatred in places such as Cloudsdale, and for it, my true name must remain hidden behind an alias. But know that I seek no absolution for my role in the conflict. Not even for the attack on Cloudsdale, whose success was critical to our overall objectives. I obeyed and I slayed in service to the Empire, obeying the blood oath I once swore to do so. I cannot and will not apologize for adhering to that oath, even if it required me to do things I found wrong or distasteful.
‘Tis not to say that I am without regrets. For the Ravens, like so many other Imperial organizations, lost sight of who they were and what they were supposed to be. Over time, we became mere adjuncts of the Owls, doing all manner of dirty business for them instead of simply serving the gryphon race as ‘twas originally intended upon our founding two centuries ago.
‘Twas our original mission and purpose to deal with threats to gryphondom that lay in the shadows where conventional forces could not reach. And now, ‘tis our mission again as we answer not to an intelligence service that forgot itself, but to the Queen who rules our race and those she appoints as overseers.
‘Tis to my amazement I have survived this long and risen to the rank I have, but I am under no illusions--death comes for all creatures, and I will one day face the judgement of my ancestors for my work and war crimes. I know not how I will be received, but in the meantime, I will continue to obey the oath I once swore to protect my country and kindred.
Hate me if you must, but like the Lances who were--and in some ways, still are--our greatest rivals, the work we do is no less necessary for it. Even now.
But I will not dwell on our burden or dishonorable acts. Before I begin, I wish to think Captain Firefly for conveying our honors to the Thunderbolt dedication, and my former adversary of Swift Strike for enabling me to pass this note. Indeed, he is the only one on the Equestrian side I would trust to keep my confidence, having proven he could do so by keeping the survival of the two Ravens he once spared thirty years ago a secret.
--“Orel Travina”
[Rank and title withheld]
Why a Raven and what did she witness? That's the surprise, as I believe her perspective will make the events she sees all the more powerful. It is unlikely the chapter will be finished before this time next week, but you never know. I'll give at least one more update before it is. My prereaders have not seen this yet, as this is one time where I don't want to share it before I have a completed draft.
Looking forward to it with much anticipation.
Is that a reference to Russia I see? Orel was the site of some serious fighting in 1943. Much vodka comrade!