In Bello Praesidium

by Jean De Basse - Woolie

Chapter Five: Born in Battle

Tension was thick enough in the damp air of the makeshift war room that DuPont nearly choked on it. He stood alongside the few other surviving company officers as they debated their next action. They'd at least agreed for now to hold position to bury the dead and loot any supplies they could find, even at the risk of enemy reinforcements coming. Deciding how they would lead themselves though was an issue.

"You're proposing we turn over command to the General Committee? What qualification does a glorified student government have in leading us in battle?" snarled Jackson as she punched her fist into the table. DuPont's brow shot up in surprise at the gesture. He'd seen her get heated before during Army training but had never seen her shoot a glare so cold that it could kill a man.

"It-it's a valid option! The corps elected us at the beginning of the year! The Commandant appointed you! It's more democratic than this council!" stammered out Goldsmith as he attempted to throw up his arms, a splint over his arm stopping him with an annoyed grunt.

"Half of the General Committee is dead Goldsmith. We'd have to hold new elections, and obviously, we're not in a situation where we can do that," said DuPont as he shook his head. The surviving officers at the table murmuring in quiet agreement before a voice rose out from Goldsmith once more, trying to salvage his argument where he could;

"And yet we're going to follow the Regimental System instead?"

"You've seen the judgment the corps has when we get released on weekend furloughs back in town, alcohol offenses out the ass and who knows how many drunken displays...I think someone appointed by the Commandant, a former four-star general, is the best choice given our current circumstances," explained DuPont as he offered a polite nod to Jackson.

DuPont thought rather highly of her; she was capable as was King and it wasn't hard to see why she was chosen to be RXO. She'd completed Airborne School and had been selected to attend Air Assault school this coming summer before going to flight school to be an aviator for the Army. Not to mention she had a long reputation for being a good friend to a lot of cadets; if you needed a ride back from the bar: get Jackson. She'd chew your ear off, but she wouldn't turn you over to comm-staff. She'd always stuck to her guns too and didn't tolerate anyone crossing her, someone that did seemed to meet their end with fiery results and an onslaught of demerits. King kept her in check, but without him, her anger was getting the better of her.

"So that's it then? She's going to lead us?" snorted out Goldsmith as he shook his head.

"You got a problem with that boy? Or are you so intimidated by a black woman leading your skinny inbred ass?" snapped Jackson as she reached her limit, punching the table once more tightening the tension in the room as the officers sucked in their breaths. Half of them, DuPont included, expected her to flip the table and break Goldsmith's neck.

Still, DuPont found himself grinning as Goldsmith seemed to shrink under her attack, but at the same time, he found himself cringing too. She seemed ready to take his head clean off if he kept talking; DuPont knew Goldsmith was a bit of jackass, but he didn't think he sincerely meant what he implied. Moving away from his spot, he set a hand on Goldsmith's shoulder as he began to speak, "I just thi-"

"It's been decided...we're not a democracy anyway. If we're stuck out here and if we're fighting, then the SBMI Corps of Cadets has just been mobilized as part of the state's militia. As such, we will respect the chain of command that's in place until we're at a point where we can be relieved of duty," said DuPont, the short clatter of the other company's commanders sounding off in agreement stroked his ego just enough to break out a smile. Turning back towards Jackson, he met her growing grin as she offered him a nod.

"Well said; I'm going to need a new executive officer if I'm assuming the role of RCO...and with that little speech I think you've got my blessing and that of the other companies. Given Delta company's combat causalities, I'm going to fold you all in with the Color Staff under your command Mister DuPont," said Jackson.

Feeling his stomach flip, DuPont offered a joking salute to Jackson as he plastered on a polite smile; "I'll inform my guys right away, and have a corporal deliver a message to you once it's done."

"Stand by on that, Mister DuPont. Now if all other business is settled...second battalion will continue to man the defenses until 2200 hours until the volunteer units finish clearing out the lower-levels, then we'll shift into guard shifts. Alpha, you're on mess duty; see what food is around and start cooking. The rest of first battalion will get a final equipment check from everyone while Band finishes up burying the dead. EMTs have the priority claim over all supplies; they need everything they can get to help the wounded. All of you should start appointing replacements...for the fallen when you get the chance. Hold here for a minute Mister DuPont, the rest of you are dismissed."

Letting out sighs of relief and a few jokes, the officers shuffled out of the room in a quiet murmur. DuPont was soon left standing alone with an apologetic Jackson circling the table towards him, her hands tying her curly hair back into a loose ponytail, "I didn't mean to spring that on you Lee, but I couldn't have Goldsmith undermining me like that. Besides, you've got a cool head and patience that rivaled Henry. I'm going to need a balance...if I don't, I might end up castrating Goldsmith with a rusty spoon next time he opens his mouth.'"

"A bit graphic, but its fine 'Liz...figured something like this might be coming with Henry gone. Just wasn't expecting me. You're looking well by the way, the battle didn't seem to faze you one bit," replied DuPont as he tugged slightly at his collar, the crude stitches an EMT gave him itched like fire against his collar. Arching her brow Jackson tapped the side of her head and shot him an amused look.

"If I told you I managed to knock an arrow out of the air with my sword, would you believe me? It was ugly out there, but that's what war is...I didn't enjoy it by any means, but I'm not going to let it break me. We've still got to get everyone home first, or at least off this mountain before I let myself worry about it. The mission and the men are first."

"The mission and the men? You sure you didn't get your commission when we got teleported here? That sounds like something a real officer would say," teased DuPont as he let himself wear an amused smirk. She politely offered him a shake of the head as she hummed out a polite reply,

"We're all real officers now aren't we, Lee? Born in battle leading the charge? Anyway, you told me before the meeting about 'Sardonyx'...the magic and ranting to King about his 'revolution'...color me skeptical, but I don't think we're going to be getting any reinforcements. He strikes me as an outlier of some kind. No one would make this their home unless they had no other choice. His forces aren't exactly uniform judging by their corpses either," said Jackson as she cycled past him, moving around to the opposite end of the table to curiously examine some of the foreign books they'd managed to confiscate.

"You're more worried about who's chasing him..."

"Exactly, for now, I think we're safe from him. But even if he said he couldn't get us home, he still has that 'spell'...I just said goddamn 'spell'...that got us here. If we get our hands on that magical nonsense I think we can figure it out. If we can't....well...we can still hang him high. He's mobile now, and we aren't, so until we've got the ability to chase him we're just sitting ducks for his pursuers..." mused Jackson as she flipped through the unintelligible scribbling of the book before opening to a rather artistic illustration of two horned pegasi holding up the sun and the moon above a field of smaller horse creatures.

"Who might think we're the army of slaves Sardonyx wanted for his glorious crusade..." DuPont mouthed as he found himself reaching the same conclusion of Jackson as he circled to read over her shoulder. They had stared at the picture of the two creatures for a few moments before she closed the book.

"Did we at least take one prisoner? Or is everyone out there rotting in the courtyard?" she questioned with a tired sigh, shaking her head in disappointment at DuPont as she moved to open the door and exit the chamber; motioning for him to follow as she took her cover from the table.

"Maybe they found on-" said DuPont as he moved to open the door before it swung back on its hinges. Cantwell wore a blank expression as he stepped through the door, the cadet leaning over as he helped an armored griffon stalk into the room. It shot inquisitive glares at both of them as DuPont found himself staring at the half-destroyed armor of the creature adorned with ornate symbols and a sigil engraved into its pauldron.

"We need to figure out what's going on and she wants Sardonyx dead too," said Cantwell

"...Mister DuPont...help your subordinate debrief the prisoner and present the results to me at ASAP...I'm going to go check in with Color Staff," said Jackson as she pinched at her brow, the woman snaking around the small group as she strode out of the room.

Their eyes were the most deceptive thing about them; they were narrow and beady. Their emotions hid behind their glare, and they seemed intent to conceal any tells their eyes might betray. Of course, Aloisia knew there was emotion behind them, the look of consciousness and the tears she'd seen one cry showed they weren't soulless creations.

But they were trying to hide that they felt anything behind their masks, other than a rather strong desire to interrogate her with an intensity that'd make inquisitors blush as they rattled off question after question.

"What are you?"

"Where are we?

"Who are you?"

Pain in her side gave her pause every time she answered them; it made her dawn a mask of her own as she kept her answers short as possible while fighting the urge to grunt out in pain. Her fight with Sardonyx did not go as well as she would've liked and she was stuck in his monsters' custody.

"A Griffon."

"The Southern Alps, near the Celestial Sea."

"Knight-Commander Aloisia Asuhman of the Black-Vogels."

They weren't overtly hostile to her. However, even the one who'd seemed intent on killing her before breaking down appeared to be more curious than vengeful. He, she was quite sure it was a 'he' at least judging by his voice and his Adam's apple, seemed to be intent on trying to hide his curiosity behind a glassy stare. A twitch in his eyebrow gave him away every time she answered a question. He still stank heavily of death, blotches of dried blood were splattered around his neck and yet none of it seemed to be his save for a few scratches on the side of his face.

His superior wasn't so intent to hide his interest in her, the man writing down her answers in a strange script in a book they'd taken from the dilapidated library they were intent on holding her in. He was taller than 'Cantwell,' and wore more stern features. A messy orange mane and freckles across a stubby nose wore a distinct frown as he drawled out in an accent similar to that of Cantwell's.

"Black-Vogels?"

"It's an order that serves the High-King if you'll accept the most basic definition. You wear uniforms and carry banners, surely you're familiar with the idea of service," answered Aloisia as she adopted a tone that she'd use to scold a child. These 'humans', as they identified themselves as, were hesitant as she was to give proper answers, but she'd been able to weed a few out of them while trying to give her best poker face to her burgeoning curiosity.

"Mind the attitude," said Cantwell from over his shoulder as he used a small washcloth to wipe down his neck in the corner of the room before turning back to stare at her. The human intended to try and read her poker face before placing the soaked rag back into the water, but his superior's sigh stopped him in his tracks as he'd moved towards her.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere if we try to imitate the training interrogations...if we're being honest Cantwell, I'd usually just slip a can of dip to the 'prisoner' during the exercises, and he'd let us know what's going on. Miss Jackson will just have to be satisfied with the answers we get in a fair trade. Miss Asuhman, we were cadets: not soldiers. After today that's changed for certain. We're from a country that is known as the United States of America, in a province called Virginia. There is no magic, no kings, and no creatures like yourself. We don't know why we are here, we're barely holding it together, and now we're worried about what happens next. If you're some kind of honorable knight then I..."

"Then we need your help," finished Cantwell before offering an apologetic shrug at the officer for cutting him off. Rather than reprimanding him as any griffon commander would've, the officer waved his hand at Cantwell laughing.

"That's the most direct way to put it."

Blinking once, Aloisia raised her talon up to run it through the tuft of her black-tipped feathers. Her ribs protested at the movement, but she powered through it as her tone shifted. They were very upfront with her then, the officer was almost borderline friendly too. She felt like she could trust them, since they'd fought Sardonyx and won. Even if he'd gotten away, they'd at least disrupted whatever he'd planned next. It's not like she'd be able to escape either, she wouldn't be able to make it down the mountain without her wings before the cold killed her. Aloisia regarded her choices once more before bowing her head down,

"I will try to honor the trust you've just placed in me and be as forthcoming as my oaths allow me to be...what do I call you?"

"Cap-...Commander Lee DuPont, DuPont is fine for now, but I'll stress the formalities among the other cadets."

Turning her head away from DuPont she eyed Cantwell. She'd never asked for his name, merely picked it up along the way. He'd spared her in the catacombs, that much at least deserved a formal introduction even if he had put her in captivity again. She'd 'thank' him for that later, but for now, she offered him a smile as the tension in the room eased,

"And what do I call you?"

"...John...C-Cantwell...Cade-" started the cadet before DuPont cleared his throat cutting him off.

"Corporal John Cantwell."

The sudden promotion seemed to stun Cantwell. His eyebrows rose before a look of an almost utter disgust twisted his face. His hands picked at the dried blood he missed on his neck as Aloisia could almost see the bile churn in his stomach as he seemed to fall into his own world. His voice cracked back weakly as a sullen look replaced the stern mask he'd been trying to wear,

"Corporal...John Cantwell...you can just call me Cantwell."

"My condolences..." said Aloisia as she bowed her head. She knew the pain he carried quite well. His friend must've been lost in the fight, the role he was filling must've been his too. She didn't think highly of DuPont to spring it on Cantwell now, but he did it in such a way that he couldn't outright reject it without undermining his superior in front of a captive. It was cold, but it was smart.

"First things first, while our languages sound similar there is certainly a difference in our writing," said DuPont as he ignored the glare Aloisia found herself leveling at him for a brief moment. Offering out a large tome to her he slid it across to her along with a few other papers. She immediately recognized Sardonyx's flamboyant signature noted at the bottom of each letter and carved into the first page of the tome. Flipping through the papers, she found herself frowning as she shook her head,

"I'm no mage, most of this might as well be Prench to me. You've got an old book on the ancient Heron legends and a few letters in a strange cipher...what else do you have here?" She asked as she continued to flip through the notes. Most of it was indeed annoying gibberish. Strings of nonsensical words or political ramblings about revolutions and an 'Empire in the North.'

"Where are we...in a bit more detail this time," said DuPont.

"You're in an old fort hugging the border of Equestria and the Griffon Empire. In theory, this land is ruled by one of the princes under the High-King, but the closest village is in ashes now courtesy of our former host. The nearest castle is over fifty miles away across the mountains, an easy trip if you've got wings. Near impossible on foot..." pausing in her geography lesson, Aloisia's brows arched up as she let out a chuckle as she pulled out a small book from the tome.

"A ledger for the storerooms in the catacombs, it's got pictures so you ought to be able to understand those at least. I doubt the stallion was quick enough to take everything with him when he fled. If you're lucky, there could be a few healing salves or potions down there plus the food for the garrison. Won't be much use without a unicorn's magic charging the potions but they'll prevent infection at the very least. I also wouldn't mind a drought for my side if you're feeling generous."

"Some good news at least," said Cantwell with a rather grim smile as he moved to take a seat at the table beside DuPont. He ran a hand through his brown, cropped hair as he scratched the back of his neck again. DuPont tapped the top of the table as he rose from the chair, picking up the ledger as he looked at Cantwell and Aloisia,

"They're not antibiotics, but they'll do. Answer whatever questions she has, Corporal. I'm going to get this to the EMTs now and report what we've got so far to the RCO; she's going to want an immediate update to our location and supplies...and I'll get you a potion when I return Miss Asuhman."

Exiting the room in a few long strides, DuPont disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors with an audible click. The man's muffled footfalls grew quieter from under the door as Cantwell leaned back in the simple wooden chair. He was quiet as he fished out a thin white stick from a small packet to hold in his lips. Aloisia found herself staring as the man took a stubby tool from his hat, a flick on its edge bringing up a small flame to the end of his stick. Cantwell took a long drag from the stick as the smell of tobacco betrayed its burning contents to her. Tapping her talon against the table, she opened the palm of her claw to him,

"Tobacco? Perhaps your home is not so different from mine? In regards to...offering gifts to a maiden maybe?"

"You smoke here too? Home doesn't have fireballs and talking horses...but sharing is a thing," said Cantwell much to Aloisia's elation. Smiling as the human struck up another tobacco-stick, she found herself fascinated by the tool he used to light it. Taking the 'smoke' as it was offered she imitated him to a degree as she found herself taking a short puff of it.

"This is excellent, smoother than what the Lord Protector grants us after his visits to Saddle Arabia. It is always thick like a heavy fog, often sour as a swamp too. It also calms the nerves. I try not to make it a ritual but after today...well...many thanks."

"It's a nasty habit to pick up especially with cigarettes. It's smoother sure, but it'll get addicting. I don't like letting others know I smoke anyway. Once people figure out you've got a pack, they'll start bumming them like crazy. Back home tobacco is a big business, but it's pretty expensive with the taxes on it. Easier to snag a cig from a friend then buy it yourself..." blinking a bit, he cleared his throat, "...you're fine though. It's not like I'm going to get another pack anytime soon. Might as well share what I can."

Chuckling lightly, Aloisia tilted her head at the man as she enjoyed the 'cigarette' with a long drag. Mimicking a trick she'd seen another knight do with his pipe, she managed to blow the smoke out her nostrils like a dragon. A grin had broken on Cantwell's face before she leaned against the table, her charred breastplate clicking against it.

"My people aren't familiar with magic as the Equestrians or Zebras, but we've got our warlocks. DuPont said you're from a world without it?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, the human seemed to carefully consider his answer as he blew a short wave of smoke under his breath, "Yes and no...we've got the idea of magic. It's written in old legends and our fiction, but we've never actually been able to do it. Humans adopted tools instead, made our own magic using machines and science."

"Just machines and science then? You're making humans seem like the Yaks, but they don't have weapons that can eviscerate a diamond dog in a single blow," said Aloisia as she rose from the table to wander around the room as she held the cigarette in her beak. Hobbling against the sting of her ribs, she'd look over her shoulder at the man every so often as she searched through the abandoned shelves of books.

Holding up his lighter, Cantwell flicked down on the top to summon the flame again with a spark. The human stared at the tiny fire as he continued to speak in an accent that had a rural flair to it, "We can travel hundreds of miles in a day, cure a thousand diseases, feed millions of people, and kill billions in an instant. Maybe it isn't just machines; I think we're just really stubborn. We see a bird flying, and we decide we want to fly too, except we want to do it better. We want to be faster. And we want to do it in luxury. Takes a while, but people don't give up and in a few decades we go from twig and cloth flying machines to..."

He paused, scrunching up his brow as he stared at her. His smoke burned in his hand as he tapped the ash off a bit as if he couldn't form the words he wanted to. Scratching the back of his neck he took another puff of the cigarette before he shook his head, "...to really, really fast metal machines in the sky that defy gravity itself and escape into the stars."

"We're not without flight ourselves on Equus, Cantwell. I'm quite familiar with the concept and how difficult it can be to sustain flight with a considerable amount of weight. Being able to fly into the night sky though? That sounds like a feat of magic to me," teased Aloisia as she crushed the tip of the smoke against her damaged armor with a short sizzle and stretched her wings carefully. Aloisia was hesitant to admit it, but she was rather enjoying her conversation. Aside from him holding death to the back of her head a few hours ago, he was rather pleasant company. Turning back towards him she rose a talon and pointed up towards the sky,

"I do not mean to brag, but I'm quite fast myself. A Vogel is expected to be. A lone agent of the High-King can't afford to be a lumbering fortress like an Equestrian airshi-...airship," said Aloisia as her gut decided to practice an extreme amount of acrobatics suddenly. Her eyes grew wide, and her expression must've been enough for Cantwell as he shot up from his seat.

"What's wrong?"

"...take me to Commander DuPont right away, I need to warn him what's coming!"

How could she have been so forgetful, so stupid! It had been days since her capture, and her mission was only supposed to take one at the most. She would've been assumed to be dead, and the High-King would have to admit failure to capture Sardonyx to the other leaders. It would be a huge embarrassment to the Griffon Empire!

He'd grant a warrant to others to succeed where he failed, allow the other nations to try their hand. Janeighsarries wouldn't arrive fast enough, the Yaks had no quarrel, and the minatours refused to act on their own.

He'd let the Equestrians try their hoof at justice now.

Byrd managed to send a wad of spit a few meters off the wall to the cheers of the other sentries posted farther down the fortification. They'd finished clearing out the catacombs an hour or two ago after Cantwell started bawling over his new pet and now the new boss was having them getting checks on everyone with their status.

He was also now sergeant to half a squad that didn't exactly exist anymore. There was that too.

The corps for all its worth was still a major pain in his ass. They'd just won a real battle! They'd whipped monsters back to their holes and racked up a body-count that gave the ghost of Chesty Puller a stiffy! Immediately afterward he was stuck doing ammo detail with the Color Staff.

Flicking a used wad of dip to the ground he frowned as he shook his head, he'd made a mistake. He was part of 'Command Company' now or some bull-kaka like that. DuPont hadn't given them a proper name yet, but Jackson had passed along his orders pretty damn clearly. With a good chunk of Delta and the Color Staff dead in the ground, it was just easier to combine the two rather than shrink them down.

Moving up towards a pair of Alpha sentries, the two guards towered over him by a few inches. It was an annoying eccentricity of SBMI that companies were arranged by height to make them look prettier in a parade. The two privates tilted their heads down and offered him a wave as they leaned against the wall.

"You guys all good with ammo, water, and shit?" grunted out Byrd with a snide grin as he had to tilt his head up to eye them.

"With water and 'shit,' yeah. Nearly dry on bullets though. Thank god they found those storerooms though, you hear that they've found some barrels of booze in them too?" replied the sentry with a wide grin, Byrd just now smelling something in his breath as he realized his friend was barely keeping himself upright. Byrd felt a frown growing on his face despite his better judgment, they deserved to party a bit, but this was too much to be on guard.

"Really? Did 'they' give you jerk-offs enough to share?" said Byrd as he crossed his arms, the man shooting them each a fox-like grin. They shouldn't be drinking that much on guard duty. It was a potent combination of stupid that made him look like a genius that made it his obligation to confiscate it and redistribute it of course.

Frowning a bit, the two sentries looked between each other and offered two canteens from their belts with a few quiet curses. Pointing towards the center of the fort Byrd offered them a polite gesture with his finger, "You two get to piss off early, just make it to where you're gonna be sleeping and keep quiet."

Between a confused mix of 'thank-you's' and more cursing, they stumbled away as Byrd took their position on the wall. He didn't like the idea of a guard shift, but it beat going around asking everybody stuff he already knew. They were all fine on food and water, but hardly anyone had any ammo left. He could let the rest of the 'Command Company' spaz out as they interrogated everything with a pulse, he would be content with a drink watching the sunset.

He was smiling still. He just noticed that. In retrospect, aside from when a someone deserved a dirty look, he'd been wearing a happy smile the entire day. Or at least once the fighting started. Taking a swing from the canteen, he washed down a sweet nectar of some kind,

It was good, really good. Tasted like the first coke he split with his dad back in Norfolk when his mom was on deployment as kid, and he swore it even had a 'sound' to it. The Rolling Stones were singing about painting everything black as his dad sang along to it poorly, his voice added to the mix as his mom tried to back them up with a few strums on an old guitar from the computer. The delay from Iraq had her a few beats behind, but it didn't matter. They were an odd family, and they enjoyed themselves anyway. Dad had apparently won her over after Desert Storm: a gangly white hick having the balls to try picking her black-ass up at the bar while she was in dress blues was enough to merit her curiosity. She didn't have to worry about annoying in-laws either, dad's side of the family was a bunch of racist dirtbags and had disowned him after they got hitched.

Taking another sip from the canteen Byrd remembered the first Christmas without her, it was just him and his dad at her grandparent's house. It was so damn quiet. No one wanted to talk about it, they all just looked pitiful instead. Didn't even want to get the bastards who got her, kept saying to pull out of the war and be done with it. He tasted the spite on his tongue as he lashed out at them, he promised he'd get the haji that killed her and damned them for abandoning her service like that. He'd make someone pay. It stung going down again, but it tasted damn good letting it all out once more. For a moment he even felt the bruise of his grandfather's belt on his ass a little while later, a chuckle escaping his lips as he wondered what the hell he was drinking. Even Tequila didn't mess with him this much.

Twisting the cap back onto the canteen he slung it over his shoulder he found that he wasn't smiling anymore; he wasn't feeling any buzz beyond whatever craziness that was either. Everything just seemed more vivid. Usually the opposite of what he felt after guzzling half a bottle of whiskey, it felt more like the buzz he got from nicotine, just sharper. Watching the sun grace the edge of a little mound of snow in the distance, his eyes traced along the splotches of blood on the blanket of snow.

Remembering the fighting made his smile come back again, the drink warming his belly as he dove back to it. There was no way around it: he loved it. It sucked that people died, he didn't want to see a bunch of his friends in Delta get their skulls crushed by fricken' magic but damn if he didn't like getting his revenge by popping that unicorn's head off. It was cathartic, all that madness about being teleported here just was eased away as he beat the butt of his rifle into a splintered wreck against the bird thing's helmet. Every blow he remembered landing felt like taking a bite from a really nice chip. He felt the crunch against his stock and enjoyed the salty taste of his own blood leaking into his mouth from his bloody nose.

Everyone else was coping or breaking down: Cantwell went crazy down in the tunnels, DuPont was pouring himself into work, and Danny and his girl kept cuddling. Was he the only one who didn't feel sorry about the whole thing? Or was he the only one who enjoyed it? He wasn't a sociopath! He didn't like hurting people's feelings or being a cruel jackass, but whipping the crap out of the monsters felt great!

The sky above him danced in a display of bright orange and purple as the sun fell further into the snow; the powdery earth was swallowing it bit by bit as he watched. It was oddly artistic; sunsets back home were nice, though he'd never admit it out loud he thought they were beautiful. This one was something else. It was like an artist with thousands of years of practice was actively painting a picture as each second passed by. Looking over his shoulders, he noticed that the other sentries were staring at it too. It was unbelievable! Staring at the twilight his hand gripped mindlessly at one of the canteens.

He knew what memory he was looking for this time, unscrewing the top he took a long swing from the drink as he felt the soft sand of a warm beach inside his low-quarters. He was just walking along with his mom and dad, watching the sunset. He really liked always handing dad his ice cream and chasing the waves before running back away from them, he was just a kid, but it was fricken' fun. Sometimes he was faster than the water, and he only felt the sand, other times he smelled the salt in the water as it crashed against the back of his legs. In the bright orange hue of the horizon, he heard them cheering him on, and he felt his stomach twist. He missed them.

At least he wasn't a sociopath, but maybe just a bit sadistic.

Holding the canteen out in his hand he poured a bit into his open palm. The sun shined off the bluest liquid he'd ever seen. It was brilliant as if someone had poured a Caribbean island's cove onto his glove. He didn't think they'd found alcohol, but this was something a lot more potent.

A few dark silhouettes moved across the top of the blob of goo, the sunlight reflecting off it as a few voices rose in concern across the parapet. Flicking the liquid away, Byrd cocked his head up towards the shouts as the other sentries began to raise into a frenzy. The shrill cry of a trumpet blared from the far end of the wall as companies tried organizing themselves into sensible defense in a wild frenzy as Byrd's eyes stayed focused on the objects approaching.

Three huge balloons carried the wooden bodies of ships as a few blue specks whirled around them like gnats. The decorated warships were descending closer and closer as the sun stopped its descent at the edge of the night. The stars were revealing themselves in the haze of the twilight as if the sky itself turned against the fort.

"Well...shit," said Byrd as he found himself reaching into his cover to get out his last pinch of dip.

If he was going to fight fricken flying galleons, he was at least going to do it with a real buzz.

"Miss Neptune, signal the Winged Victory and Celestia's Hope. The Eternal Night is going to begin our descent, have the Night Guard close formation around us...there's no telling what Sardonyx has prepared," said Luna as she stood at the bow of her ship. The gentle rocking of the wind calmed her nerves somewhat as the short pegasus snapped a silent salute and flew up towards the crow's nest with a lantern.

Turning on her hooves, she inspected the crew of the ship as they flew about in a frantic hurry. As far as she knew, this was the first time in years that the ships were used for anything other than patrols or parades. The only ponies with any experience in fighting on the expedition were her detachment of bat-ponies and their elder captain who almost made her feel young.

'Do not be so quick to forget that you have plenty of experience in fighting,' she thought as she cast her gaze down towards the fort. The quiet call of an instrument waking its inhabitants as the mad pony's mercenaries manned the walls of the decrepit castle. The griffons had told them that the fort had seen better days, but it seemed positively ruined. Moving closer to the edge of the ship, she stole a glance down and saw the massive wooden gates removed from their hinges. The parapet on the walls chipped away by the elements visibly even from their great height as small dots dashed along them.

And the fear.

She felt that. She'd felt dreams coming in, a few of the mercenaries must've been sleeping. Their rest wasn't deep enough that she could enter their dreams though, her efforts would only shock whoever was awake. They always awoke with a shock of some kind, a terror tearing them away before she was cast out. They were afraid.

Moving down the ship's deck towards the aft of the ship, she caught sight of a familiar pony nervously trotting in place as she flexed her wings. An aura of purple magic was holding a book up to her snout as if wanting to hide behind its pages. Trotting up to her with an amused grin, Luna couldn't help but remember how nervous she was when she first went to battle.

'Or how you felt after; couldn't get enough of it,' she chided to herself in the back of her mind as she cleared her throat audibly.

"Twilight, I greatly appreciate your assistance on this matter but...you don't have to do this."

All the nervous twitching the young alicorn had halted as she nearly dropped her book when she heard Luna clearing her throat. Chuckling lightly, she closed the book and levitated it into her saddle bag shaking her head, "I'm sorry Princess Luna, but I have to. This mad-pony put Zecora in a coma and nearly leveled Fluttershy's house when he got away! Not to mention to the guardponies he killed!"

Glaring a bit at no pony in particular, Twilight sighed and offered Luna an apologetic smile, "I know it's dangerous, but I fought Tirek, Sombra, the Changelings, and...you...it'd be irresponsible if I didn't try to stop Sardonyx after he...murdered good stallions and mares a mile from my castle!"

"You're very noble Twilight, and I'm sorry I had to keep the other element bearers back in Ponyville, but I don't want to think about what Sardonyx could have planned with that book. While the Magic of Friendship is a most powerful force, I firmly believe raw magical prowess is what's needed to deny him his plot here. There is no redemption for him like there was for Discord." said Luna as she flicked her wing a bit, the weight of her armor still foreign on her shoulders after all these centuries. Even when facing Triek and the Changelings she hadn't donned it, but she felt it was needed this time. Force seemed to be the only deterrent to a stallion caught up in his horrid ideology.

"The Picatrix..." said Twilight, mouthing out the name of Saddle Arabian tome with a hint of disgust, "Why did the Sultan keep it after what happened to the Great Tropical Jungle?"

"It was millennia ago Twilight. He and his predecessors likely didn't believe that a simple spellbook was enough to turn his country into a desert...or he wanted it as a trump card in case our relations grew worse. Even after a thousand years, their stance towards us has hardly changed. Sultan after Sultan declaring themselves the 'One True King' and claiming divinity whe-" stopping herself quickly, Luna turned on her hoofs and shook her head.

"Forgive me Twilight. I'm a bit set in my opinions as well...now come, we should join Captain Dusk and his men at the bow for our launch. This fight isn't going to be as it was against the Changelings, these ponies and griffons are killers, they aren't intent on taking prisoners. Are you sure you don't want to stay up here?"

"...no, I gave my word. I'm coming with you."

"Celestia chose you well! Come now Princess Twilight! Thou shalt witness a great feat of glory this day!" shouted out Luna with perhaps too much enthusiasm, the alicorn of the night wielding an ornately decorated warhammer in her magic as she trotted over towards the assembled guards bearing a smile.

"...Sardonyx is a mean bastard. He's bested the Sun Guard and the Black Vogels, but now it's our turn. We're the last effort before Celestia herself comes to unleash the wrath of the sun! Let's save her the time of the day, let the night turn the tide!" barked out the scarred, broken features of the aged Captain Dusk as Luna caught the end of a rousing speech to the other guardponies. They clapped their bladed hooves and weapons against the surface of the ship like thunder as they hollered: they were ready.

"At your ready, my princesses," said the Captain as the clatter of hooves fell silent, the old earth pony bowing his head solemnly to the deck. The stallion was set in his ways too, a rigid formality that never wavered reminded Luna warmly of the past. Even if such practices of respect had fallen out of favor, it was at times quite comforting to see a resemblance of past courtesies in the officer's greeting. Twilight, however, shifted uncomfortably at the stallion. The gesture perhaps lost on her, or maybe just awkward to her modern sensibilities. She was from a different time and only recently crowned. She still seemed to blush whenever anypony addressed her as 'Princess Sparkle.'

"As you were captain. There is no need for any more words, just action. Capture Sardonyx if possible, cut down anyone who opposes you. I expect every one of you to do your duty..." raising her hammer over her head, the ship loomed a few meters above the ground before the fort. Calling out in a voice that shook the deck of the ship Luna leapt over the bow as the bat-ponies followed her on their wings, "FOR EQUESTRIA!"

Raising a large bubble shield as her hoofs fell to the snow, her guards raised their spears to ward off any daring to charge them as they landed beside her. A short 'poof' echoed out behind her as Twilight and Captain Dusk teleported behind her, the guards around them shifting into a square as the sky would be filled with an endless sea of arrows and the cries of war would tear around them! Her heart slammed against her armored chest as her horn effortlessly held the shield at full strength, ready to receive the incoming barrage of fire that was bound to come. No spell or arrow would pierce the barrier as they'd make for the gate! No pony would stop them!

And no pony tried.

They stood there for a few minutes, the wall a few dozen meters away at most silent: no fireballs, arrows, or bolts came. Looking around though the haze of her shield Luna scanned the decaying walls. Blood splattered the stone and scattered corpses partially poked out through the snow, the body of a diamond dog butchered into a disfigured lump rested by the gate.

"Princess..." said Twilight as her voice trailed away, her eyes focused elsewhere.

Luna tilted her head up towards the stout wall, adorning its parapet was a small army. Narrow-pikes stuck out of the wall in droves and remained aimed at her shield. The creatures behind them were calling out to each other in clear Equestrian from rounded faces and gray uniforms. Pale and dark skin stood in place of any fur as they looked at them with a mixture of anger and fear, many darting their eyes between her and the ships now circling the fort.

"More of them?"

"Don't shoot! Jackson is coming!"

"Hold fire!"

"Ma'am...I don't believe Sardonyx is in residence anymore..." stated Captain Dusk as the Night Guard began to hesitate, the bat-ponies dropping the tips of their spears as a small band of creatures began walking out of the ruins of the gate. Walking beneath a large flag decorated with a blue sky held a herd of stars as red and white stripes covered the remainder of the banner, the apes strode up to them in quick steps. Stepping out beside the approaching group of creatures was the armored form of a griffon, the Black-Vogel moving with a slight limp as she rose a talon in greeting.

So the High-King's gambit had succeeded.

A short, dark-skinned creature now stood just at the edge of the shield, the being staring at the blue aura before stepping back. With a quick flick of her wrist, a hand grabbed the saber at her belt. Flicking it out quickly, she tilted its point down to drive it into the ground as she took another step back. Speaking in a calm, even tone as the sword remained planted in the ground,

"Princess Luna, Princess Sparkle: the Corps wishes to parlay."