Battleship of Equestria Chapter Fourteen: Hold the Line
May 17th, 1942 11:00 PM
Crystal Empire…
(Jacob's POV)
"-completely irresponsible! What were you thinking?! Captain Jacob gave you an order, Princess Luna gave you an order, Cadence and I gave you our own direct orders, even Princess Celestia gave you a direct bucking order! There's a reason we don't want you to deal with this war!"
I blink, standing outside the throne room of the Crystal Empire. With me are Princess Twilight Sparkle's two bodyguards: Lance Corporal Billy Franklin and Flash Sentry of the Crystal Guard. After finally finishing fortifications and battle plans Princess Cadence and her husband, as well as Twilight's older brother, Shining Armor had ordered the throne room clear. While the order had been given in a calm manner, only a fool could miss the underlying tension. Upon detecting that, I instantly knew that the young princess of friendship was about to get her rear quarters chewed out for her stunt.
As the trio of voices continues the exchange of talking/shouting, I break out my small pack of cigarettes. I offer both earth ponies one, but only Billy accepts the offer. I break out my little lighter and ignite both. Putting the lighter away, I lean back against the crystal wall directly opposite of the doors leading to the throne room. I take a deep drag of the tobacco and let out a long exhale, a cloud of smoke floating away. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" The Marine guard asks, exhaling his own cloud as well. I nod my head, knowing that this is done merely for the sake of our old home's traditions.
"I thought that this, ah, chat would occur sooner," The southerner states plainly. Again I nod my head. "Well, don't forget we've been a tad bit busy," I remind him as I take another drag of my cigarette. Finally the third member of our little trio speaks up. "I just hope they don't chew her up so bad. Twilight's heart is in the right place, she's just naïve," The blue-haired pony says, with a faint trace of concern in his voice. I chuckle, taking my cigarette out. Once again there is another obvious pair of would-be lovers if they just got to it.
"Oh, relax lover-boy," I snort, placing the smoldering cigarette back in my mouth. Billy stifles a laugh and instead settles for a smile that he attempts to hide behind a hoof. Flash Sentry opens and closes his mouth several times, but is unable to say anything. "Seriously, it is almost painful to watch how you and Twilight interact. One piece of advice: Learn to be subtle." With that I resume smoking my cigarette.
Finally the sounds of the argument inside stop. "Well, I guess we better wrap up our break," I mutter, using my magic to extinguish the cigarette and flicking it out a window. I do the same for the light end of Billy's and he follows suit. As the doors to the throne room open, he and Flash straighten their posture and stand at attention. A sad Twilight trots out slowly, her head held low. I want to say something but I decide that remaining silent is the best suite. With a subtle nod, I give her two guards the order to follow her. I then walk in the room.
I feel myself becoming a parrot by what I say to the princess and her husband, who are now quiet with sad looks on their faces. "You did the right thing. Just remember, her heart is in the right place. Twilight just doesn't understand fighting, and I which this war had never come upon her home, or anywhere in this land for that matter. But let's make sure we leave her, Flurry Heart, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and all the others have a future of peace," I say, trying to ease the tension still present.
As much as I hate politicians giving this kind of speeches, it works. Princess Cadence nods, the princess of love determined to protect her kingdom. Shining Armor also shares her look of readiness. "Then we better get started. Is everything ready for you?" I nod. "The make-shift bombs are ready for the hundred or so pegasi Rainbow Dash and her wing-pony Lightning Dust have trained and recruited these past few days. My men are ready to occupy the first trench, and our heavy machine gun is set up rather beautifully there. We will finish setting up a trap for the first wave within the hour. The two twin 25mm gun mounts have been removed from the flatbed cars and placed along the second trench line." I then pause, not looking forward to this part of the discussion.
"Now, we must discuss your safety, Princess Cadence," I say, using her semi-formal title, as her full name is quite a mouthful. Already her purple eyes roll upwards in frustration. "I have told my husband this, and my defense advisers. I will not leave this city! I didn't abandon it when King Sombra attacked, and I won't leave it now!" The pink alicorn declares stubbornly, Shining Armor nodding (albeit VERY reluctantly).
I sigh. "I understand not wanting to run and leave your army behind, but they are fighting for your safety! As the Crystal Heart protects the Crystal Empire, you, along with Shining and Flurry, are the soul of the Empire! If you die, or worse captured, your ponies' morale will collapse. All I am asking for you to do is to wait by the train with your daughter-in-law. If Shining Armor and I fall, you two must take charge and get the wounded and as many other ponies and men you can rescue out of here as fast as you can. Please?" I ask respectfully, eyeing the Twilight's former foal-sitter.
With her own sigh, Cadence nods her head slowly. "I hate that argument, because you're right. Fine. I will head down to the train right now. Please keep my husband and my army, if not the entire Crystal Empire, safe?" She asks me. I stand to attention and deliver a crisp salute. "On my honor."
Then a pounding on the door is heard. I recognize the pegasus mare who is panting, having just returned from what must have been a recon flight. "Lightning Dust? What is the problem?" I ask one of my best dive-bomber/scouts. The turquoise mare takes another deep breath before finally speaking. "Captain Jacob, I found the enemy."
Those six words seem to make the air in the throne room become cold. "Distance?" I ask, needing every last scarp of information the former Wonderbolt cadet has. "They'll arrive tomorrow afternoon. I managed to eavesdrop on the rear and found out the name of the enemy commanders. The names were Henry and Gu'klas. They brought the entire army from Vanhoover, save for roughly 200,000 warriors to serve as a rear guard. I expect that they will attack during the evening at the latest," The mare finally finishes.
I nod in thought. Then I look up. "Good work Lightning. Let Rainbow know you're back and then get some rest. You're going to need it. Dismissed." Lightning gives me a salute and I instantly return it before she turns and trots back outside. I turn to Shining Armor.
"Get a dozen of your finest guards. We must protect the Crystal Heart. Cadence, you must get Twilight and her two guards and get to the train. My men stationed there will protect you. We must move quickly. And hope that the heavens will have mercy on us," I whisper the last part to myself, the couple nodding and galloping out of the throne room. I stare out of the window facing the canyon which will soon become the first battleground in the frozen lands of the north. I want to go after Henry myself, but my duty requires me to stay with my men. And so I shall. Tomorrow, however, blood will stain the ground…forever.
May 18th, 5:00 PM
First line of defense…
(Jacob's POV)
I step away from the range finder. The snow kicked up by the advancing group of who-knows-how-many Caroleans is getting close. I turn to my men. "Form up," I say in a simple tone. This is what we have been drilling for all this time. Now is the hour of truth. I now no longer know if we can hold off even the first wave, but what I do know is that we will hold on for as long as possible. Now all of us can see the figures of the Carolean warriors. At this point I decide to address the men.
"THIS IS WHERE WE HOLD THEM! THIS IS WHERE WE FIGHT!" I shout, thumping the butt of my rifle on the snow-packed ground. I turn my head and look at the two hundred and sixty-eight American and Russian men I have led through hell and back. I lower the muzzle of my Krag slightly so that it points ahead to the incoming Caroleans. "THIS IS WHERE THEY DIE!" Lev Troitskiy speaks up, for once his English almost accent-less. "Earn these uniforms comrades!" A chorus of shouts follows before I continue to speak, this time quieter. "Remember this day, men. For it will be yours for all times."
The shaking of the ground intensifies as the first wave of attacking Caroleans approach. "Everyone get ready! All submachine gunners, don't fire until they are within range! Riflemen, wait for my command! Same thing, machine gunners!" I shout out in a brisk tone. With swift movements, my brave warriors do so, the long barrels of rifles resting slightly on the top of the snow. I am briefly reminded of a picture I once saw of a battle-line of soldiers armed with muskets preparing to fire a volley. Well, let us hope that this works. This must be our Mons. Now the Caroleans can be seen. One thousand yards. Nine hundred. Eight hundred. Seven hundred. Six hundred.
"GIVE THEM NOTHING! BUT TAKE FROM THEM EVERYTHING!' I scream as I raise my Krag, the iron-sight fitted at the end quickly lined up with the horned head of what must be the Carolean equivalent of a non-commissioned officer, or NCO. The other riflemen also take up aim, awaiting my single command. Now they are finally at five hundred yards. Within the range of all my rifles used by my men. My Krag rifle has a much longer range, but I have the only one of all the rifles present.
I exhale slightly before using my alicorn magic to squeeze the trigger. Crack. The .30 caliber round spins out of the barrel and into the throat of the NCO. The stunned sword-wielder drops his weapons as his clawed hands fly towards his torn throat in a vain attempt to staunch the fatal bleeding. He is knocked to the ground and trampled to death by the oncoming warriors behind him. "Volley!" I yell, using my magic to yank the bolt back, the ejected shell casing flying into a clump of snow, the heat from being fired so recently melting the patch slightly.
With a nearly-single boom, all one hundred and thirty-six rifles open fire. The hail of lead bullets is deadly to the virtually unprotected Caroleans. Bodies fall left and right. On some occasions, the tightly-packed formation they are using allows for bullets to pierce one body and continue on through a second and even a third body. Close to two hundred Caroleans fall underneath that single volley. "Second volley!" I yell, preparing to fire a second bullet at a massive dual sword-wielding Carolean, a broken portion of a small wooden shield covering most of his torso.
A second string of rifles being fired is heard and another hundred or so Caroleans fall to the snowy ground. I turn to the three Russian ponies who operate the DShK 12.7mm heavy machine gun. "Now!" I order, firing a fourth round in my rifle and slamming both the bolt and the final round of the five-round rotary magazine of my Krag. As I pull the trigger for the fifth time, the Russian heavy machine gun near me barks with deadly glee. Heads explode; chests erupt with faint clouds of red mist. Arms and legs are severed. Dozens upon dozens of bodies litter the ground. Screaming fills the air, this time of the cries of wounded. But still they come.
After seeing the Carolean I was aiming at take the .30-40 Krag bullet directly to the heart, I bend down as arrows start to be launched as a form of return-fire. Most miss thankfully, and only one or two manage to land in the trench, but they cause no injuries. I load another clip into my magazine, having placed a sixth round in the breech already. The M1 Garand semi-automatic rifles are particularly deadly with their faster rate of fire. Nearby, the distinctive sound made when the eighth round in the clip is fired and the empty clip is ejected. With a quick blur of movement, the Marine unicorn slips in a new clip and the rifle resumes its song of death.
Lev fires a round from his Mosin-Nagant, blasting a hole in the gut of a mace-wielding Carolean. "Urra!" The Russian shouts as he scores yet another kill. A second Russian also repeats the shout as he scores his own kill. I snap off a shot in a rather quick procession. The bullet misses. "Damn," I mutter to myself. I load a second bullet in and line up my sights with more patience this time. A second crack and I am shocked by the result.
The bloody asshole is still standing!
"Son of a bitch!" I curse, drawing Lev's attention. "Missed?" Before I can retort, the Carolean slumps forward onto its face. "Nope. He was just dead and didn't know it," Lev replies as he fires his own shot. I can't help but laugh. Dead, just didn't realize it. Only in war could someone find that amusing. Another crack from my rifle. Another Carolean's chest releases a cloud of bright red mist as he topples backwards, sword flying from limp fingers. Three Caroleans run ahead of the others, two archers and a spear-wielder. Before I can start firing, however, a quick series of cracks goes off further down the trench as a Marine armed with an M1 Garand fires his entire magazine at the trio. Thankfully, that large consumption of ammunition that he had performed succeeds in killing the entire cluster.
A mace-wielding Carolean throws his horned head backwards in a roar. I silence the foe with a shot to the groin. The only reason for that shot to that area was from having been accidently jabbed in the side by someone's elbow and disrupting my aim. I wince at seeing this. 'Man, that has gotta hurt like all hell!' I think, feeling slightly sympathetic to the Carolean's plight. A second shot to the side of the head blows away a portion of the warrior's skull, ending his pain. I don't bother to reflect on that incident as I blast yet another Carolean to Kingdom Come.
Now the enemy is close enough for my men to finally unleash our trap. We have killed several hundred Caroleans and injured at least that many, but there is no way we can kill all the remaining three thousand or so Caroleans that make up the advance vanguard before they can close the gap and engage in hand-to-hand combat, but we sure as hell can thin the damn herd. "Sergeant Miles! Fire now!" I shout now that the enemy is nine hundred feet away. Right on top of our trap. "Aye-aye, sir!" The Gunnery Sergeant Andrew Miles says as he readies a second rifle he had brought from one of the two killed American Marines we lost at the ambush. It is an M1903 Springfield with a rifle grenade attached, a blank round already fitted. With careful aim, the American pegasus lines up the shot before firing the 22mm grenade.
The weapon arches through the air like an arrow, all of our fire slacking off aside from the machine gun. Roughly a third of their force lies dead already. The Caroleans increase their pace, thinking that we are out of ammunition. The only result is their hastening to their doom as the explosive projectile begins its terminal descent. By now the majority of the advance force is over the trap. 'Good,' I think to myself just before contact is made with the ground and the 22mm explosive.
The morning sky is illuminated by the flash of the several hundred grenades buried just beneath the snow. The rifle-launched grenade was simply the form of detonation of the other explosives. The massed fragmentary grenades throw up shrapnel into the air, creating a large cloud of death and maim. Body parts fly several feet (no pun intended) into the air before landing on other stunned Caroleans. Bodies are shredded by either the initial explosion or the debris later created.
Once the smoke clears we are able to see the full destruction. I am slightly disappointed that the enemy didn't break, but beggars can't be choosers now, can they? The sight of mangled bodies mellows out the disappointment. 'Good,' I think to myself as I work my bolt yet again, sending what appears to have been a Carolean captain spinning to the ground with a bullet to the shoulder, near the lungs. 'At least they sure as hell took a pounding from that. Pity that we're probably never going to get to have another golden opportunity to do that again.'
The enemy is now reduced to slightly less than a thousand Caroleans are left standing. The rest are dead or wounded. The survivors continue their suicidal charge. Despite being scum in addition to my foes, I can't help but admire their courage. At least, I assume it is courage. Now they are within range of the shorter-ranged submachine guns. "Spray those fuckers! Riflemen, fix bayonets!" I holler, taking another shot before latching on my own bayonet. Normally I would use my sword and pistol, but right now I feel that I would prefer to have the extra length given by the bayonet in this kind of situation.
By now another hundred or so Caroleans have fallen. I raise my arm to indicate that everyone but the heavy machine gunners to stop firing and conserve their bullets. More and more of the accursed enemy fighters fall underneath the Russian weapon as I address my men. "Alright my lads, listen up! Submachine gunners, you're going to stay in the trench and be our reserve. If the worst happens, get that machine gun back to Shining Armor at all costs! We can't afford to allow Cluny and his fucking lapdogs to get their slimy hands on even a single bullet! Riflemen, we're going to give them the bayonet! If we fall, we fall with honor! It's been a true honor to serve and lead such fine men!" One of my Marines speaks up. "And we have never been led by a finer officer, even if you were originally a sailor!" He says teasingly, causing smiles, real smiles to appear on our faces.
'Now.'
I step out of the protective trench, rifle at the ready. "FOR EQUESTRIA! FOR THE PONIES! FOLLOW ME!" I shout the command all soldiers instinctively follow. "Come on comrades! For the motherland!" Lev shouts to his fellow Soviet compatriots. Miles turns to the Americans. "COME ON YOU SONS OF BITCHES! DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER?!" He shouts, using the same lines another Marine sergeant had used in the Great War. With looks of hate and rage, American and Russian soldiers pour out of the trenches, weapons at the ready, close on my heels.
"FORM UP A FIRING LINE!" I bark the order out, halting two hundred yards away from the Caroleans rushing to greet our charge with one of their own. With perfect timing we form up a thin line, stretching from one canyon wall to the other. We take careful aim, our rifles extended. "Fire!" One more time the sound of thunder as lead spins through the crisp air. And then the thud of squishes of impacts against bodies and skulls. The enemy charge briefly falters from this tactic, their ranks ragged from the sudden deaths of Caroleans, their defenses weakened.
Perfect.
"NOW!" I howl as I gallop forward, a blood-curdling shriek following as I work the bolt out and slam in a single bullet. I am barely aware of the other forms just behind or beside me. Only the deformed and monstrous creatures before me, and my bayonet-tipped rifle. "URRA!" I howl, having developed a love for the Russian cry. Then the two sides crash in the long-awaited hand-to-hand combat.
With a sickening thud, my bayonet buries itself straight to the hilt and the barrel in the guts of a horned Carolean. The warrior drops his club and falls backwards weakly as I plant my front hoof on his chest and heave backwards with my magic, yanking the now-bloodies blade out. A second Carolean tries to behead me with his axe, but I raise my rifle and pull the trigger. With a bang, the bullet travels the single yard separating us before burying itself straight into the throat of the demonic killer, slaying it instantly. I step aside as the lifeless body stumbles forward from the momentum it had built up in life into a bank of snow. A howl alerts me to a third Carolean to stab me with his broken sword-blade charges at me. Grabbing the barrel of the Krag, I slam the solid wooden butt of the rifle into the exposed jaws of his mouth. A glob of crimson spit flies out to the side as the Carolean's head snaps to the side, along with a broken tooth or two. I move forward, slamming a hoof on the throat of the stunned Carolean who now lies on the ground.
A scream is suddenly heard and just as quickly cut-off as a spear impales the chest of one of my brave Marines. I gallop to the Carolean responsible and lower my head at his exposed back. With a jolt from the impact, the center of his chest suddenly sprouts a projection of bone. Said projection is my horn, just as perfect in use as a weapon as it is to use my new-found alicorn magic. We continue to take losses, however.
A Russian tries to block a scimitar with the barrel of his rifle, but a second blow sends him staggering backwards, lowering his guard. With another downward stroke, the poor Naval Infantryman is disemboweled. The Springfield rifle of a Marine is knocked away by a club, and before the American can even move, a second Carolean warrior lodges an axe into his back, killing him instantly. With a roar, I throw the impaled Carolean at the axe-wielder and gallop forward. A sword flashes in my vision, and I raise my rifle like a quarterstaff to block it. The impact shakes me slightly, a notch in the wood. With a kick I knock my attacker backwards.
The Carolean I am facing appears to be of possession of some skill at his weapon, for he manages to parry my bayonet. I take a half-step backwards to avoid getting my stomach ripped open by his return blow. I feint to the left and suddenly switch my thrust to the right side. The exposed flank offers little resistance as the steel blade sinks in deep. With a roar, my opponent drops his sword and tries to grab my riffle. I try to withdraw it but find it stuck fast with him holding it down. Then I remember that I still have one round left in my magazine. With a flick of my head, I use my magic to move the bolt backwards and send the previous shell that I had handed-loaded during my charge spiraling to the side. I slid the bolt forward, the inner mechanisms of the rifle sending the fifth round in the internal magazine forward into the breech. I move the bolt down to lock it in place as I steady my grip and prepare for the recoil of firing the old firearm at a target this close. With another flick of my magic, I squeeze the trigger.
A spurt of gore hits my face, causing my face to scrunch up in disgust. I also feel my rifle sag downward slightly from the deadweight produced by the body of my opponent. I open my eyes and finally manage to kick the corpse away. With a howl of blood-lust, I launch myself towards a cluster of warriors trying to form a small defensive circle. I crash into them like a bowling ball, sending the half-dozen Caroleans staggering backwards. I finally decide to draw my M1911 Colt and open fire on the one who appears to be in charge of the group. Ex-leader now, as the destroyed face lands in the snow, exposing the now-hollowed skull courtesy of three .45 inch slugs. I dispatch four more with a single round each. The final Carolean charges forward…
Straight onto my extended bayonet. Drops of blood stain his lips as he draws in ragged breaths. I withdraw and thrust again. This time into the throat. A scream turns into a sickening gurgle as blood rises to the dying warrior's throat. I close my eyes and knock him down, delivering the coup de grâce in the form of jamming my bayonet between his ribcages and straight to the heart. They may be cruel and sadistic, but that doesn't mean we have to be the same. I then look up to observe the situation, noting the large number of dead Caroleans and about thirty Marine and Naval Infantry uniforms lying in the snow lifelessly.
By now I realize that the Caroleans are retreating. I'm about to roar in victory, but stop when I realize something…disturbing. They're running away, that's for sure. But what sets off alarm bells in the back of my mind is the manner of how they run.
It isn't the devil-take-all mad dash to the 'safety' of their own lines. Instead, it is organized. "Shit," I hiss under my breath as the two hundred or so Caroleans flee into the approaching cloud of snow kicked up by marching. "They fucking sucker-punched us! This wasn't the entire first wave, just the advance scouts. He's sending in his whole goddamn army! If we don't fall back, the others won't know! As it is, our defense will be overwhelmed as they are!' I realize this and fire a shot in the air with my rifle, gaining the attention of my men.
"Fall back to the second line of trenches! Grab the wounded and as many of the dead as you can, but do not leave a single rifle behind! Go, go!" I scream as I reload my entire magazine in my Krag. I start to move backwards slowly, taking potshots at any enemy officer. By the time I have to reload, two are dead, and a third is either dead or wounded. Then a scream draws my attention. "LEV!" I holler, seeing the Russian getting stabbed in the leg and then in the gut by a wounded Carolean who must have been playing possum.
I gallop forward, thrusting my bayonet straight through his neck, slicing open his jugular. For good measure, I slam the butt of my rifle into his forehead not once, but twice, turning it into a red and grey pulp. I then turn to my wounded soldier, helping him up. "Come on Lev, I got you. Let's go," I encourage the Russian sailor, despite having seen the extent of his injuries. Lev's reply only further validates this.
"Comrade Jacob, I can't. I'm dying and nearly crippled. Let me stay behind and hold them off here. Save the others and Equestria. Please sir," The destroyer sailor begs me. I hesitate, but only briefly. Deep down in my heart, I know Lev is correct. That doesn't mean I don't like it one bit. I clasp his hoof with my own. "Very well," I sigh, thinking of what to say. After all, these will be his final words. "I swear to you on my life, you and all the others who have died here today and before will be avenged ten thousand full!" I help him grab his rifle and reload it. I fight back tears as another one of my brave men will be left behind. "Burn brightly, my friend," I whisper as I turn around and run, listening to the sounds of Lev's Mosin-Nagant fire at the oncoming Caroleans, and the shrieks of outrage indicating that at least one of their warriors has been killed already.
Soon the sound of both gunfire and screams die out as I finally exit the canyon, all my other men having removed the dead, wounded, and all the equipment they could grab. There is little doubt in my mind that the enemy might grab a few rifles from our bayonet charge, but not enough to make a difference, especially with no ammunition save for those in the discarded weapons or the few bodies we weren't able to rescue. The DShK is already set up in the third trench. My riflemen have fallen back to the third as well, my submachine gunners to the second. I spread my wings and take-off into the air, gliding into the deep trench. A captain of the Crystal Guard, who I assume is in charge of this line, gallops up to me and salutes me.
"Sir, Captain Blazing Mane reporting for duty! What are your orders?" I instantly begin to bark out orders. "Captain Mane, get those cannons loaded with anti-personal rounds now! Aim at the entrance and fire on my order. We're going to have to try to break the enemy attack. We have at least a million Caroleans charging us! Unicorns, ready your spells! Aim to kill. Rainbow Dash! Lightning Dust! Take you pegasi, grab those incendiaries we made and start dive-bombing them now! Focus on those stuck in the canyon, there is much less room for them to maneuver in! Have spear-ponies right behind my submachine gunners and earth pony archers right behind those. Any other weapon-wielding pony will form the rear of the trench line. Miles! Get the 25mm guns locked and loaded! I want them to coordinate fire with our DShK gun and make try to form some sort of crossfire as quickly as you can!" I take a deep breath before saying one last thing.
"This is it people! Do or die! For Equestria and the Crystal Empire!"
Meanwhile…
Crystal Heart courtyard…
Shinning Armor and the dozen ponies of the Crystal Guard he had hoof-picked for this task strain their ears listening to the sound of combat. Each of the dozen earth ponies is armed with stout spears and wear the finest armor our available. They form a tight circle around the most precious object in the Crystal Empire: The Crystal Heart. Despite the nearby field of death that is forming, the crystalline heart continues to shine like a beacon of hope. "Steady men," Shinning Armor, decked in his Royal Guard armor, says to his men. "Jacob hasn't let us down yet. I highly doubt he plans on starting today. All the same, continue to keep an eye out," The white unicorn commands. "Sir, yes sir!" The twelve elite guard ponies echo.
Suddenly a blur of movement catches Shining's eyes. "Who goes there?" He commands, charging up his horn, ready to unleash the full potential of his magic. He stops when he sees a familiar-looking alicorn walking out of the shadows, most of the features obscured but still looking recognizable. Shinning eyes the alicorn with a quizzical look.
"Jacob? What are you doing here? Surely the battle is not over?" The former Captain of the Royal Guard asks. His eyes widen when the alicorn finally steps into the light of the courtyard, a dozen of his own winged Caroleans behind, six to a side in a v-shape. "I see the family resemblance still carries on even to here. Sorry to let you know, but I am not my dear older brother. I hope you and your men are not too disappointed by having to settle with me. Trust me, I am much, much more fun," Henry says with a cruel smirk, a wicked glint in his eyes as he takes another step forward.