//------------------------------// // The War Begins: 2 - First Blood // Story: Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly // by Firesight //------------------------------// Greetings to all new and returning readers. If you belong to the latter, welcome back to this tale, which now crosses into the story of the Pony/Gryphon War itself. If you are one of the former, know that I normally open chapters with introductions such as this to clear my head and focus my thoughts on what I wish to write about. Know also that perspective will occasionally shift to those of my friends and even former foes, as my story cannot be told without theirs. And last, but not least, know that although this is a sequel, I am attempting to write this story such that reading the previous volume is unnecessary. But ‘tis encouraged, as it tells the story of both me and my future Bolt Knight brethren; how we became the soldiers and warriors you see here now. As I begin the second book of this series, I find myself quite contemplative, lost in memories of friends fallen and battles past. To be a soldier is to know sacrifice and loss, and no matter how much I came to revel in the rush of battle, I never lost sight of the fact that being a warrior meant death and killing. ‘Twas a constant effort to not cross the line from soldier to killer, to not lose myself in bloodlust and hatred as others did. Sometimes ‘twas easy, but at other times decidedly not as I saw my friends and allies fall, or worse, Equestria being steadily overrun and her fate teetering on the brink of defeat. War is a harsh training ground; the most severe of instructors where the penalty for not knowing your foes or giving them proper respect is death. I daresay ‘twas a lesson that both sides had to learn at different points, and here as our war began in front of Outpost Epsilon, ‘twas the Empire’s turn to be humbled… Though Prelate Gaius and his legions would also prove they could learn from their mistakes and adjust to our tactics all too quickly, to our equally great cost. —Captain Firefly Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus Military History and Tactics Instructor Equestrian Officer Academy Canterlot The War Begins Facing five hundred crossbows along with the rest of my two-hundred strong battalion was not how I envisioned fighting the gryphons. And yet, here we were, looking down the wrong end of their sights as, by their Tribune’s orders, they were all triggered at once and their bolts let fly in a massive volley. Even with our speed and evasiveness, by sheer volume of arrows they could probably take out a quarter to a third of us in mere moments... If we hadn’t already planned a strategy to counter massed fire, one the average Aerial Corps border base did not have available to them. Let it be said here and now that gryphon soldiers are well-trained and good shots with their crossbows—far better than the average raider we faced in the past, methinks. But we were fully aware of this fact and also practiced evading them, and we had another means at our disposal to block them as magical shields flared into existence around us, projected by First Sergeant Still Way and our healer unicorn team watching from below—a prearranged tactic designed to let us take our enemy by surprise and the reason we were in close formation. It worked as the bolts splintered hard against the barriers, and as they were using simple steel bolts designed to penetrate the light armor Corps soldiers normally wore instead of magic shields, not one reached us, though a couple of the bubbles projected by the less-powerful healers did visibly weaken from the sheer volume of hits. But they held long enough. Once the volley was spent, the shields dropped as quickly as they were raised, and our retaliation was instant as we charged in two company-sized columns right for the middle of their diffuse formation, Fell Flight at the head of one and myself leading the other, trying to close the distance before the gryphon soldiers could reload or draw their swords after their failed strike. Two crystal clicks meant ‘twas my choice of tactics to attack their center head-on in companies, enabling us to split their force and then fan outwards. ‘Twould allow us to drop dozens of Talons with our wingblades before they could recover from their mistaken strategy, one that showed very little respect for our speed or striking power. I saw the commander’s eyes go wide as she realized what was happening and tried to shout orders, but by then ‘twas far too late. We covered the fifty yards separating us in less than two seconds, causing consternation as the Talons realized they’d been tricked and there was no time for a second volley. Several dropped their crossbows and went immediately for the swords strapped to their backs whilst the smarter ones dove hard for the deck, sensing that hovering in the air in the face of charging pegasi armed with wingblades and no comrades within twenty feet was suicide. Hovering in front of her formation as she was, the Sub-Tribune fell first to my blades as our two formations made contact, Fell Flight and I in the lead. In swift succession I cut down not just the cohort commander, easily evading her panicked lunge, but two, three, then four more Talons with frightening ease. I dodged their swings and parries, catching the second before he could even draw and in another instance slicing right through a sword to decapitate an eagless who wore the insignia of a Decurion, cutting her scream short. Though certainly much better than raiders, they may as well have been moving in slow-motion for as much as they bothered me; after six months of Armored Guardspony basic and another half a year training with a Black Lance and blade expert like Swift Strike (who even then I still couldn’t best!), Talon regulars were nothing to me. And as it turned out, ‘twas little different for Fell Flight, or even my rank-and-file as squad leaders dispatched their flights to engage individual gryphons four to one as per Equestrian Aerial Corps combat doctrine, slaying their opponents quickly with nary a casualty of their own to start. My thestral-eyed second concentrated her efforts on the higher-ranked gryphons and even bowled a couple over with a wind gust, wisely keeping our formations entangled as much as possible so our close-quarters advantage would be maximized and the flanking gryphons couldn’t use their crossbows again without endangering their own. Irregular gryphon fighters like the raider groups we normally fought would have broken under such an onslaught as my forces dropped nearly fifty Talon soldiers in under twenty seconds. But to their credit, the gryphon warriors recovered quickly despite the loss of their commander and shock of our attack. Centurions out on the wings directed their units to close up and go in as tight formations of decades—their squad equivalent—in arrowhead formations of their own, blades bared in front with crossbows wielded on the wings, providing covering fire for the spearhead. ‘Twas a standard Talon tactic, making challenging them head-on a dangerous proposition. But that in turn left them vulnerable to other tactics as, in response to another order shouted into my red gem, our weather platoon took advantage of their preoccupation with my main force to suddenly rise up from inside the base and open up on our adversaries, powerful lightning bolts lancing out from our stockpiled storm clouds. They targeted entire decades in flight and sometimes took half of them out at once, each strike killing several and scattering the rest. Recognizing the new threat, another flanking centurion redirected his force to take out our six storm cloud teams, dispatching his hundred warriors to the ground below. ‘Twas normally the right tactic; the gryphon NCO clearly knew our weather platoon would be vulnerable due to lack of mobility in moving clouds around and having to keep them still to fire, but they quickly realized they were protected in other ways as a surprise strike of longbow arrows from First Sergeant Still Way and the six unicorns of our healer team met them; three volleys dropping fifteen gryphons on approach. Their longbow fire was further augmented with thrown spears and the wrist-mounted crossbow bolts from our one earth pony soldier, another stallion Guardspony named Spear Sergeant Steelheart, who slew three of his own, one of his spears impaling the Centurion himself. Still Way had trained the outpost’s unicorn healers well, and, being a veteran Guardspony whose gold armor marked him as having ascended to the ranks of Celestia’s personal bodyguards, he knew plenty of other magical tricks, firing off spells and curses to various effects. ‘Twas the first time I’d seen what a veteran Guardspony unicorn could truly accomplish, and ‘twas certainly impressive as his incantations caused confusion and disorientation in the attacking century’s ranks; a few Talons even turned their blades on their comrades before recovering their senses. This allowed Steelheart, the unicorns and our weather teams to concentrate their fire and decimate their ranks further, finally forcing them to break off the attack with the loss of nearly half of a century. Our weather platoon then turned their attention back on the main Talon body, picking off isolated soldiers one by one. Their formations disrupted by our unexpected tactics and the surprise presence of unicorn support—Corps healers normally didn’t fight—caught between our wingblades, longbows and lightning bolts, the remaining gryphons did the only thing they could: they closed into melee range with my main body of troops in hopes their remaining numbers could tell and that close-quarters would preclude further ranged attacks. ‘Twas a desperate tactic, borne of their losses which by then were approaching a century and a half as Talon after Talon fell from the sky into the canyon below. Given our own losses of perchance a dozen soldiers, that still left them with nearly a two-to-one advantage in numbers, and they attempted to take advantage by going back to back, soldiers from different decades and centuries intermingling as they waged aerial battle with us. But in the end, after the eight months of the intensive Guardspony-style training I’d given my Aerial Corps battalion, we were just too good, too fast, and too much. In truth, I needed to give few orders in the battle after the initial ones, as Fell Flight and my platoon leaders commanded quite effectively. Even Snow Squall impressed; he may have lacked our specialized training but not for skill or experience, as befit a stallion of his rank. For myself, I simply intervened where my soldiers seemed to be having some difficulty, making it a point to target a particularly skilled centurion and a few other higher-ranked NCOs, easily spotted by their additional armor and command chains. All fell to me quickly; their skill insufficient and armor ineffective against a Guardspony like myself and Guardspony-wielded wingblades. In the end, I had not endured six months of Armored Guardspony basic and the oft-brutal training of my stallion mentor, Sergeant Major Windshear, to be anything but the well-honed warrior I was, and it paid here as I suffered not so much as a graze to my armor during this course of this first battle. I don’t know how many I slew, and in truth it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that after just two minutes of combat, the gryphons broke after suffering the loss of nearly half their force, fleeing back across the canyon with the ragged remains of their cohort and most of their NCOs and best soldiers dead. ‘Twas the sole surviving Optio that finally gave the order to retreat, leading the rearguard as we gave only partial chase. Once they had fully withdrawn into Gryphon territory, we halted our pursuit and turned back to base. As we landed, Sergeant Blindside went to the healers to take stock of our casualties, our unicorn contingent having put down their longbows to tend to the wounded, levitating them up and into the infirmary for treatment. After a minute of conference with the head healer, she came back and saluted crisply. “The news is mostly good, ma’am. We have two ponies with minor injuries; they’ll be up and about in a bit. Eight have more serious injuries ranging from sword to crossbow wounds, and will likely not be able to fight for the near future.” She then took a breath, closing her visible eye in deep regret before opening it again. “Five dead, ma’am.” I sighed and nodded slowly. While nowhere near as bad as it could have been, every pony lost was one less set of wingblades I’d have defending the base from the next attack. I was under no illusions that this defeat would dissuade the gryphons; they had made their declaration of war plain. And having learned some painful lessons here, ‘twas no doubt in my mind the next attack would address the first one’s weaknesses and be far more difficult to fight off. “Thank you, Sergeant,” I returned her salute, noting she didn’t bear a single mark or wound of her own despite her bloodied blades. ‘Twas not surprising in the least—she’d overcome her lack of depth perception by developing an almost otherworldly awareness of her surroundings using her other senses to the point she could dodge arrows in flight with ease; even I had a hard time tagging her in training spars. “Don’t worry about compiling reports or any of your adjutant duties for now; I’ll deal with them. In the meantime, as per our rotation, keep your platoon on ready alert and police the grounds. If you find any wounded or hiding gryphons, bring them in. Methinks we might be able to use them as bargaining chips later.” “Aye-aye, ma’am,” she gave me the standard Corps acknowledgement of orders as she saluted again, then flew off to direct her platoon as I considered my next move, knowing we had only won the opening battle, not the war itself. Opening Round As I scanned the battlefield contemplating our options, a surprising figure caught my eye, and I immediately flew over to meet the one gryphon we knew who was not an enemy. “Gavian? What are you doing outside?” I asked my adopted son, a young sky gryphon named Gavian Ravenoff who had defected from the Empire following a failed raid eight months earlier. “I told you to remain out of sight!” I scolded him gently, fearful of him being out in the open… even if he was being watched over by Epsilon’s resident Black Lance, Sky Sergeant Swift Strike, an unassuming and undercover sixteen-year veteran of the Aerial Corps’ Special Operations Battalion who had originally been assigned as a bodyguard to protect Gavian when he had first arrived. That was nine months earlier, though methinks it seemed like a small eternity since then. Despite his slight stature and Trottingham airs, Swift Strike was a phenomenally fast and deadly warrior of shadow, skilled with blades of every size and type, including gryphon ones. Even for as long as he’d been training me in such arts, I still couldn’t best him, though I could at least now hold my own against him quite well. I had elected to keep him out of the battle for now to watch over Gavian and protect the healers as they did their work in the infirmary; he was lethal in close quarters and ‘twas the best place for him. Gavian was startled by my voice, pausing from where he was picking up a Talon crossbow and quiver he’d taken off a fallen eagless, his green eyes widening as they fixed on me. He had a brief look like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, but then answered me directly. “My-my apologies, mother. ‘Tis just that, well… since the battle was over, I thought perchance I could obtain a crossbow, since you assigned me to guard the infirmary?” he offered with a bared neck and hopeful air that suggested he truly did wish to fight, my orders to stay hidden in the infirmary notwithstanding. “‘Twas my idea, Ma’am,” Swift Strike spoke up. “I thought he could use some armor and a ranged weapon.” “I see…” I blinked at his statement, and mentally kicked myself for not thinking of it first. But sixteen years of age, Gavian Ravenoff had been abandoned by his soldier parents at the age of five for being too small and weak, and in perchance an even worse sin for warrior-oriented gryphon society, for having apparent aptitude for art instead of combat. As an orphan myself, I could not fathom such treatment as he’d received, but in the end he’d been left to fend for himself, forced to steal and scavenge just to stay alive, eventually joining a raider group out of desperation and a simple desire to belong. Fortunate not to be killed by us in the raid he’d taken part in, he had been taken prisoner instead and proven key to uncovering an Imperial plot to implant mind-control gems in our soldiers—ones that would cause them to turn on their own comrades and commanders when the time was right. Attempting to silence him, the Empire had sent Ravens—elite assassins of their intelligence service, the Office of Owls—after him in a raid that cost me six soldiers; it took the combined efforts of me and Swift Strike to defeat their force. For saving him, Gavian had thrown his lot in with us; his loyalty was not to the Empire who thought his life worthless but to the race who had spared him, accepted him, and even allowed him to finally develop his artistic talents. Offered asylum and eventually granted Equestrian citizenship by Celestia herself for the vital information he had offered us, he had grown quite attached to me to the point he called me mother, though it took him risking his life in a duel with one of my own soldiers before I finally saw that my feelings towards him had grown surprisingly parental as well. An earnest and endearing lad who was eager to learn and who had surprisingly flourished under our care, he had taken to pony society quite readily over time, learning our language and had greatly enjoyed the tour of greater Equestria I had taken him on but weeks earlier… Though at that moment it might as well have been a lifetime ago. As he completely lacked all schooling, we’d been teaching him everything from reading to math, and he’d also been undergoing combat training with Swift Strike to ensure he could protect himself should the gryphons—or even my own disgruntled soldiers—threaten him. After eight months of practice and finally getting enough food, ‘twas no doubt in my mind that he could fight; he’d gotten quite good with the sheathed scimitar on his back, which had formerly belonged to one of the Ravens sent to kill him. ‘Twas a good blade, one far better-made than the average Talon scimitar. And one now having a far more worthy owner. In any event, I trusted him implicitly, and methinks he and Swift Strike were right—he could certainly use a ranged weapon, and as we hadn’t thought to teach him how to use a longbow, a purloined crossbow would work wonderfully in its place. Thus, I nodded in approval at him, even as I still hoped I could keep him out of combat, as I daresay any mother would their son. “As you were. If you can find some armor that fits you, take it as well and use your art supplies to paint it light blue so you’re recognizable,” I instructed him, choosing that hue because ‘twas the color of the light Aerial Corps armor most of my soldiers wore. He certainly had enough paint to do the job; he’d turned half my stateroom into an art studio over time. “Be quick about it, though, we don’t know when they’ll be back. I don’t want you visible if they are,” I reminded him, worried he could be slain by accident by my own soldiers… or as a traitor by the Talons. “I will obey,” he promised me, baring his throat in a now-familiar gryphon gesture of respect and supplication as he took the crossbow, divesting several corpses of their bolts before flying back with Swift Strike to my stateroom window. I watched him depart and then turned my attention back to my battalion, wondering how long before the next Talon attack and what it would involve. We’d caught this first force by surprise with our tactics and elite-level skill, but ‘twas certain the survivors would be reporting how we’d fought them. The gryphons weren’t foals—they had proven quite able to learn from their mistakes in the past; a second strike would doubtless address the first one’s weaknesses and be far more difficult to beat back. ‘Twas a chilling thought and like me, my senior officers were rather grim-faced, knowing that another attack was inevitable; ‘twas just a question of when. Some of my rank-and-file, however, seemed unduly cheery, believing our victory to be decisive. “Let’s break out the ale, fillies! Methinks we deserve a treat for our victory!” one of my squad leaders, Corporal Weiss Blitz, said to cheers as she high-hoofed her squadmates, pinwheeling her hooves in celebration. I didn’t mind some initial celebration after winning our first battle, but this crossed the line. I expected Fell Flight was about to lay into the overconfident mare for thinking this was no different than pushing back a raider group, but somepony else was faster. “Victory?” Sergeant Blindside asked, her voice carrying across Epsilon’s courtyard, silencing some similar conversations that had cropped up. My one-eyed adjutant took off into a hover, making sure everypony could see her. “You call this a victory, Weiss? You think that bloodying one cohort is cause for celebration?” she called to her subordinate from above. Her tone clearly indicated the correct answer was ‘no’, and several of Weiss’s privates quickly and wisely lost their cheer. However, the corporal herself seemed oblivious. “Why not, Sergeant? If that’s as bad as it gets and this is all the Talons can do, methinks this ‘war’ will be over quickly!” Up until that point, I’d never known Blindside to threaten violence outside of a spar (excepting, perhaps, her encounter with her estranged sire, Captain Monsoon of the Corps’ 4th division). But I hadn’t named her my adjutant because she was slow-witted, or a platoon commander because she had no fighting spirit. Though generally slow to rile, I learned right then that she had as low a tolerance as Fell Flight or I did for obvious stupidity. Sparing me the trouble, she flew right up to Weiss, and struck her hard enough to knock the other mare sideways, then hauled her up and threw her against a wall. “You foal! This is just the start! You heard their leader; this is just the very tip of the spear! Those were their regular forces, true, but they have far more elite units waiting in the wings! If these had been Knights or Magi, ‘tis certain we’d have lost far more than five ponies, guaranteed!” “She’s right,” Master Sergeant Stormrunner spoke up next, his golden armor pristine but blades bloodied; methinks my fellow Guardspony had taken out nearly as many Talon soldiers as I did. “Heed my words and heed them well, soldiers of the Corps! We beat off one attack, but more will follow! Be under no illusions and do not drop your guard! One battle will not win this war!” I appreciated his words. Along with Still Way and Steelheart, Stormrunner was one of three Celestial Guardspony stallions originally assigned to the base to protect Gavian; Celestia herself had given them to us right out of her personal guard as a visible sign of her favor to our young gryphon friend. Their presence had paid off quite well in training my troops and now directly in battle; they were all elite soldiers and I daresay had helped turn my entire battalion into them. “Indeed,” I finally spoke up. “We won a battle, nothing more! ‘Tis but the first of many fights to come, so stand fast and stand ready, warriors of Outpost Epsilon!” Normally I would call them soldiers, but for all their training and superb performance this day, they had more than earned the higher title, one any pegasus would be honored to receive. “They will come again, and undoubtedly before this day is out. We must detect their approach early, so we remain on war alert and all soldiers must be ready to fly and fight at a moment’s notice! Master Sergeant!” I called to Fell Flight next, seeing her returning from pursuit. She instantly flew up and landed before me, saluting crisply. She’d received one minor wound herself in the form of a grazing sword slash that left a red line on her side, but was ignoring it; methinks she’d received far worse in spars with me over the months I’d been training her. “Reporting, ma’am!” she told me in deep respect despite her larger size, a far cry from the open disdain she had first greeted me with so many months earlier. A respect I now returned, as she had proven herself a superb second and soldier, a six-year Corps veteran who had a lengthy list of accolades to her name, including the Corps’ highest award for bravery. “Master Sergeant, I am heading to the watchtower to report the results of this action, then resting along with first platoon,” I informed her as I returned her salute, my adrenaline wearing off after having been up all night preparing the battalion for action. “I leave you in command for now, pending any instructions from headquarters. If none await, you will enforce our wartime patrol and sleep schedule, monitor communications and wake me at a moment’s notice if new orders arrive or the Gryphons threaten again!” ‘Aye-aye, ma’am!” she saluted again, then went off to bark orders. When on war alert with a peacetime-level force, the Outpost went on a four-shift, six-hour rotation where one platoon was to sleep whilst two others patrolled. In between patrol shifts, the fourth platoon was allowed to eat but remained in gear as a ready reserve and to guard the base along with our weather teams, which were difficult to use except in static defense. ‘Twas an indication of how badly we’d been caught off-guard that we’d had no chance to reinforce the border as per existing war plans. If so, I would have had upwards of six hundred Aerial Corps soldiers at my command, in theory enough to defend my base and carry out slashing counterattacks against invading forces in concert with the equally reinforced Equestrian Army. As it stood, with but four platoons plus a weather detachment at my disposal, holding our outpost and trying to inflict as high a price as possible on any attack was about all we could hope to do… I could only pray it would be enough. As Fell Flight departed, I took flight for the base watchtower that overlooked the canyon, where our crystal communication array was located. ‘Twould be from here I would make my report to 5th Division Headquarters at Outpost Gamma, located nearly four hundred miles away overlooking the middle of the Equestrian/Gryphon border. I could only hope to receive word back that the other border outposts were doing as well as we were, and that given the long odds we still faced, we might yet expect some relief. If nothing else, Princess Celestia had promised the Gryphons she would intervene personally should they resort to war, and she had more than proven to them at a past parley she possessed the power to lay their legions waste. That they had attacked anyway suggested they were no longer afraid of her, but why? What power or allies could the Gryphons possibly possess that would match her…? Methinks I knew the answer no more than you at that point, my noble Captain, but ‘tis certain we would learn it all too quickly, and to our great cost. Greetings, my little ponies, and all readers of this tale. ‘Tis by my suggestion that Captain Firefly writes this account of the war, and ‘tis by hers in turn that I add my own annotations to it. She has stated that perspective will sometimes shift to friends and former enemies in the course of this story. In this case, it now passes to me. I will lend what wisdom and insights I can to this tale, but know for now that ‘tis forever to my great regret that I was unable to intervene and stop the war early. —Princess Celestia Divine Judgement War Council Chambers Canterlot Castle September 1st, 1139 AC 1100 hours “The news is not good, My Princess,” General Claymore, the service head of the Equestrian Army and ranking member of the hastily called war council, reported grimly. “To be blunt, methinks we stand on the precipice of disaster,” she added as I noticed our inexperienced scribe write down and erase the word several times as she recorded the minutes of the meeting, uncertain of the spelling. ‘Twas understandable as she was normally just an orderly. That she was there, called to duty she was not used to was unfortunate but unavoidable. She and all present were the lucky ones; survivors of a wave of assassinations and attacks that had swept the capital and hit civilian and military targets alike; our council was now being held under not just the watchful eyes of my Celestial Guard but of the Royal Guard’s Plainclothes Security Division, well-trained mares normally disguised as maids and attendants that doubled as bodyguards for royals and nobles. To their credit, they had thwarted a score of assassination attempts that morning but could not be everywhere; we’d lost General Fairweather, the well-liked commander of the Equestrian Aerial Corps and her deputy, both slain in an emergency meeting by a unicorn maid who served them tea and then slashed their throats. Worse, the PSD had been forced to put down some of their own members who had likewise gone rogue under gryphon control, courtesy of more implanted mind control gems we’d nearly gone to war with the Empire over previously. We knew to scan our soldiers for them, but this time, they’d gone for civilians—scribes and orderlies, maids and aides that they knew could get close to high-ranking officials. ‘Twas a terrible oversight on our part, but we’d foreseen neither this tactic nor that the gryphons had somehow co-opted the Diamond Dogs into their plans. They had made this attack possible; in hindsight most of the controlled ponies had been kidnapped by them during their recent raids around Canterlot for the express purpose of implanting the gems. ‘Twas a brilliant strategy and had worked with devastating effectiveness; many dozens of important officials were dead, leaving us still tallying the losses and my remaining commanders struggling to reestablish a broken chain of command. ‘Twas one more atrocity the gryphons would have to answer for, my anger growing as I listened to the increasingly dire reports Claymore was giving. “Reports are still fragmentary, but the conclusion is unmistakeable, My Princess. The Empire has declared war, and we are facing a full-scale invasion along the entire length of our border by upwards of one hundred thousand gryphon soldiers,” the old but tough earth pony mare said, passing the formal war declaration Gamma had received to me. I’d given it but a single disgusted read earlier that day. I’d been rousted at four in the morning by my pegasus High Chancellor, North Star, who told me that evidence of a gryphon plot had been uncovered—invasion plans and an earlier draft of the war declaration had been smuggled out of gryphon territory by a very unlikely spy, taken to Outpost Epsilon and from there rushed to Outpost Gamma and Canterlot. Recognizing the danger, we tried to get a warning out to our frontier forces in time, but realizing their plans had been exposed and fearing what loss of surprise might mean, the gryphons had chosen to invade immediately with what they had... I could only hope that the fact they were striking a full two months earlier than the stolen plans had stated meant they did not have their full force available, for the numbers we faced were bad enough. “We know not their full strength or strategy, My Princess. All we do know at this moment is that our troops are in disarray and our frontier defenses are faltering badly,” Claymore went on. “Almost every Army and Aerial Corps border base has been struck by overwhelming numbers of Talon soldiers, and as several have fallen silent, we fear they have fallen outright. In addition, Baltimare and Fillydelphia have been hit hard by raider groups; the civilian and naval shipyards there were struck at dawn. Civilian casualties are heavy, and we have lost at least two naval airships and dozens of sea vessels as well as the docks themselves.” “I have lost contact with my battle group at Orion Base in Baltimare, My Princess. Even if some survive, I fear the ships cannot be salvaged given how quickly the city is likely to be overrun,” Admiral Coral Torch of the Royal Navy added, to which I nodded solemnly. In truth, I did not consider that too grave a loss. The Navy had once been my sister’s service and as powerful as my Royal Guard, but after siding with Nightmare Moon against me in the Celestial War, it had been mostly disbanded, reduced to a ceremonial force of twelve airships I only kept around out of love for Luna. I had resisted all attempts to rebuild it for fear of how it would look to our not-always-trusting neighbors. ‘Twas foalish in hindsight, but seemed sensible at the time given the Navy had once been the offensive arm of the Equestrian military, a means of projecting power throughout the continent and beyond. “But that base was… not one of my more ready groups. Even if they received warning in time, I fear they were far from ready to fight. Be assured my remaining forces will be readied for battle as swiftly as possible. But I have not been able to contact our base at Stalliongrad…” she sounded troubled. “Nor have I. Our communications into the city have been cut,” Claymore confirmed. “Some kind of magical interference we are not yet able to identify. We also have no contact with Cloudsdale or Fort Spur...” I frowned at that. Stalliongrad was a sizable northern city with large army and navy bases, home to not just an entire Army division but our one heavy-weapons equipped regiment, and possibly our best Naval battle group as well. ‘Twas a proving grounds for new tactics and weaponry for all services, making it an attractive target. But ‘twas also over twelve hundred miles from the border and, though possibly in range of the best sky gryphon soldiers… ‘twould be foalish to strike there in daylight without complete surprise. Lacking it, the base would be much more alert and pegasus troops from the Aerial Corps’ 4th Division, which covered our northern frontier, would be able to intercept. But Fort Spur, our Royal Guard training base, was only five hundred miles from the southern border, well within effective flying range… as was Cloudsdale, currently located about six hundred miles from the frontier as it took its slow seasonal journey through Equestria. As we had contact with other bases and cities, why were our communications blocked to these specific locations? Unless… “They have been targeted for attack. Methinks the gryphons are attempting to cripple our storm cloud production and ability to train new troops,” I realized instantly, my eyes closing tightly for a moment. “Reestablish communications with all due haste. Order Fort Spur to full alert and Cloudsdale to immediately withdraw westward with all possible speed. Dispatch pegasus runners if there is no other way to pass word, and order a brigade from the 1st Division to Cloudsdale’s defense immediately,” I ordered them, referring to the Aerial Corps force that guarded central Equestria and Canterlot. I might have teleported there myself, but to do so over such an enormous distance would tax even my power… Power I was shortly going to need. “It will be done,” Claymore bowed to me, then hesitated. “My Princess… the picture is still not clear, but given our apparent disparity in numbers, methinks it unlikely we can stop them until they are at least halfway to Canterlot. Our forces are reeling and I fear the worst is yet to come. What I now ask I would not request of you except in the most dire of circumstances, but…” the rest went unsaid as she then bowed low along with everypony else in the room. ‘Twas clear enough to me what she was asking, and ‘twas increasingly unavoidable as my forces faltered and the scope of gryphon operation became clear. Many had already died; how many more would fall if I did not intervene quickly? “I warned them…” I said more to myself than to them, remembering a parley I’d attended on the frontier the previous winter following a series of failed but bloody raids on Outpost Epsilon, and the discovery of an invasion plot involving the mind control gems. I had laid down the law with them then, threatening them with annihilation by superstorms and my own alicorn aura. I’d even demonstrated the extent of my power, proving their armies had no chance against me, and yet still they had struck. “My Princess…?” High Chancellor North Star prompted, no doubt worried by the look in my eyes as the rest of my council fell silent, sensing my dark mood. “I warned them what I would do…” I said quietly again, then with a flare of my horn, called my ancient battle armor to me using a retrieval spell only I could cast, materializing it right on my body, instantly transforming my appearance from peaceful princess to an increasingly vengeful goddess of war. I had told the Gryphon commander, now-Prelate Salvio Gaius, that if he started a war, I would finish it. ‘Twas now time to keep that promise and stop this conflict in its tracks before more of my precious ponies fell. With that, I turned back to my military commanders. “See to our security and get communications reestablished. See also to our defense but try to limit engagement until I have… made my displeasure known. This war will be over by nightfall,” I promised them, allowing my eyes to glow golden and my mane and tail to turn to sun-fed flames, letting them see the power I so rarely set loose. “I shall deal with the invasion personally, and do not expect me to return before tomorrow night. For after I have dealt with their legions and slain their treacherous Prelate, methinks I shall honor their Empress by paying her a very personal visit in Mosclaw...”