//------------------------------// // Chapter 1:13.1 - White Tail // Story: Camaraderie is Sorcery // by FireOfTheNorth //------------------------------// Chapter 1:13.1 – White Tail             Through snowmelt and springs within the Titan’s Horn above the city, various streams cascade into Cant’r Laht in stunning waterfalls.  These waterways then meander through the city, at first irregularly across the natural ledge upon which the pegasus trading town of Gladfengel had once stood before the unicorn city overtook it, and then in well-laid out paths across the unnatural platform built out from the cliffside.  After that, the streams once again plummeted in brilliant waterfalls, eventually reaching Onon’r Laht far below.  It is in this abandoned city of stone that the waters from the Titan’s Horn congregate in a large lake before meandering south.             After leaving Onon’r Laht, this waterway is known as the North Equestry River, which has grown in size significantly from the streams of the White Mountains flowing into it by the time it reaches Ponieville.  A short distance past that tiny hamlet, it meets up with its counterpart, the South Equestry River, flowing up from the jungles and mountains of the far south.  From here, the watercourse is known as the Equestry River, and it veers westward, hugging the southern border of the White Tail Woods before emptying into the Gulf of Sirens on the Blazing Ocean.  A large part of this last stretch of river forms the border between the Dominions of Cant’r Laht in the north and the Kingdom of Los Pegasus in the south; it is here that just before dawn on the second day after the autumnal equinox, dozens of boats drifted silently across from the south shore to the north.             Without anypony realizing, a large force of well-trained Los Pegasus soldiers had invaded, and quickly went to work taking out the opposing soldiers holding the bridges.  Once the bridges had been seized, the bulk of the Los Pegasus army moved forward, ponies and equipment advancing across the bridges with the intent to seize and hold the entire forest.  From the west, a similar advance was taking place, though without the hindrance of a river crossing.             Marshal Flax watched approvingly as the army invaded by the first light of dawn, supply lines being established for the main advance and the forces that would split off to siege the nearest border fortresses.  If her intel was correct, the fortresses were in the midst of construction to improve them, and Margrave Tristan had foolishly left them vulnerable and underdefended.  They would pose but a minor hindrance in the march to the White Tail Woods’ nobility, who had so imprudently congregated themselves all in one place.  Once their token forces were crushed, they would be made to swear fealty to Queen Helianthus, or they would be executed and more cooperative nobles would take their places.             Meanwhile, Admiral Lillium’s fleet set sail and began to blockade the Dominion of Cant’r Laht’s only ports.  As unfriendly sails appeared within sight of the coastal town of Sonnet, ponies at the harbor began to panic, and a few brave souls made their way across the rickety bridge to the nearby island.  The island was really not much more than a patch of dirt and rocks that happened to jut slightly out of the water, and it barely had enough room for the sole structure built upon it.  A multi-storied stone tower rose from the island, and it tilted slightly toward the sea.  Multiple layers of scaffolding surrounded the tower and kept it upright, but it would one day inevitably topple over, its stones spilling into the sea it seemed to long for.  The ponies waited apprehensively after banging on the door with their hooves, not daring to touch the snarling gargoyle face of the iron knocker.             “What could possibly be so important to wake me at this hour!” an angry mare snarled as she wrenched the door open after the ponies’ seventh attempt to get her attention.             Siren’s Spell was not usually an unpleasant pony.  Aloof and condescending at times, yes, but rarely unpleasant to be around.  However, anypony woken at dawn who usually prefers to sleep until midday would be understandably upset.  Siren had been sound asleep when the desperate knocking had awoken her, and she had had no time to get dressed; a bedsheet was wrapped around her torso, and a towel contained her frazzled mane.  Even if she were in Cant’r Laht no longer, this was no way for a Cant’r Laht sorceress to be seen.  The mare had been born in the shining city on the mountain, but when her studies began to lean toward aquatic magic, she had departed for the gulf bearing her name.  This drafty old mage’s tower would not have been her first choice for a residence, but it was isolated, near the sea, and already had much of the equipment she would need.  Sometimes, however, the isolation was not enough, and ponies from the mainland would cross the bridge she swore she would demolish someday to ask her for help with this or that problem.  Their requests were usually reasonable, and she tried to accommodate her neighbors as best she could, but all that meant nothing if they were going to wake her while answering the door still caused the sun to shine into her eyes.             “Madam sorceress,” the lead sailor said as he bowed awkwardly, “We would not be bortherin’ you if we di’n’t need your help.  There’s Los Pegasus warships a’comin’.”             “How is that my problem?” the sorceress replied as she wiped the sleep from her eyes, “Notify the town watch to ring the warning bells and send out a signal.  Really!  Is that so difficult that you had to come to me?”             “Margrave Tristan ordered the warning bells taken down for examination by his executor,” another pony in the group milling on the bridge spoke up, “An’ the signal tower can’t be used cause it’s bein’ heightened.”             “That is madness,” Siren’s Spell replied, her mind moving more quickly as she woke up, “Why remove both means of warning of danger at the same time?”             “The margrave ordered all the towers heightened t’ be better seen over the trees,” another pony answered.             “Did the town watch at least send out a courier with the news of the Los Pegasus ships?” Siren’s Spell asked.             “Yes m’lady,” the first pony answered, “Though ‘e was just a normal guard.  All the couriers are at the White Tail Tournament.”             “Well, at least the information will get out some way,” Siren said, though she knew it would probably arrive too late to do much good, “The rest of you, spread the word to anypony who is not already looking out at the ships.  Also, see if you can get some volunteer ships together.  I may have an idea of how to break the blockade.”             As the ponies made various bowing motions and tried to turn around on the narrow bridge, Siren shut the door on them.  Immediately, she made her way upstairs and drew herself a bath, fetching and heating the water magically to save time, though she would likely regret wasting magical energy later.  This is not good.  If Los Pegasus ships are blockading the coast, then Queen Helianthus must be making a serious move to take White Tail.  There’s probably an army on the move as well.  The mare closed her eyes as she leaned back and let herself soak.  She wasn’t as skilled at scrying as other sorceresses, especially Fireflight, but she didn’t need much skill for this.  The Equestry River flew by in a blur as she tried to steady her vision.  As the movement slowed, she got a clear picture of Los Pegasus troops crossing at several points, and it looked as if they had begun some time ago.  Having gotten the information she needed, the mare returned her focus to her tower, and dried and dressed herself.  Somepony had to be warned about this.  As the sorceress trotted to her megascope, she tried to think of who she knew that would be awake at this hour and also near their own magical communication equipment. ***             Twilight Sparkle marched purposefully to Caştelæ Travond’s great hall.  On her orders, all the White Tail nobles in attendance at the tournament were assembled there.  As she and her friends were preparing for the day ahead, Spike had coughed up a letter from Celestia.  Shortly after dawn, a sorcerer had come to Cant’r Laht castle with word that the Los Pegasus invasion of White Tail had begun.  Celestia had hastily drafted new orders and sent them to Twilight, and she sent the word out immediately for the nobility to assemble.  They had prepared for this, but she was sure there were some who weren’t going to like what the letter said.             The great hall was packed with nobles chatting among themselves, but most of them quieted as Twilight and her friends entered the room.  All but one table with a map of the White Tail Woods had been shoved aside to make space for all the ponies in the room.  Besides the four great lords that Twilight had spoken to during the tournament, there were also nine counts and thirty-three barons with no overlord but Celestia herself, and all the many counts and barons who were vassals of the other lords were in attendance as well, though they mostly hung back.             “This is what we know,” Twilight launched into her speech without introduction, “Early this morning, Los Pegasus armies invaded the White Tail Woods from the south and the west.  Simultaneously, they sent their armada to blockade the coast, though it looks like they have no intention of attacking from the sea.  The force from the west is small, and Margrave Brekka’s levies should be able to hold them off on their own, but that means we will not be able to count on them for other battles.”             Margrave Brekka, already dressed for travel, and battle if need be, left at a nod from Twilight along with his vassals.  Half his retinue had already left for their home march, and the margrave had only shown up for the war council to show his support for Twilight going forward, which she much appreciated.  Despite being Celestia’s personal protégé and one of the Brave Companions, she was still only the daughter of an earl when it came to noble rank, and these lords and ladies wouldn’t take kindly to her ordering them around, especially given what she would be saying.             “The southern army is a more frightening force.  We do not know exactly how large it is, but we know that they have sufficient troops to siege all of the southern border forts and move on without fear,” Twilight continued, sharing what she’d learned a few minutes earlier from Fireflight’s scrying, “They do not seem focused on seizing the forts immediately, but rather in bringing their main force to meet us as swiftly as possible.  It is likely that they intend to kill or capture every one of you and force you to sign your loyalty over to Los Pegasus.”             A displeased grumble passed through the group, though Twilight noticed that a few of the nobles seemed to be merely going through the motions.  Could it be as bad as Celestia feared?  They would never risk an open rebellion, but do they want out from under Celestia’s rule so much that they are willing to collaborate with an invader?              “Los Pegasus’s armies are moving for us, so you must all send out couriers to call your levies to meet up.  We will march to meet them at a place of our choosing, here, at the ford near the town of Marten.  Whoever arrives first will have the advantage, so we must make haste,” Twilight paused before revealing the unsavory bit of information from Celestia, “Given this situation, Celestia has appointed Tulles, Count of Marten, to be her marshal.”             A hushed silence fell over the great hall for a moment before objections broke out, mainly from Count Tulles’s neighbors and peers, but also from the stunned count himself.  If one of the great lords had been granted the position instead of them, they’d have understood, but to have one of their fellow counts chosen was unthinkable and raised the question of why they hadn’t been chosen.  It was the natural order for the highest ranked noble to lead the army, but Celestia had the habit of turning the established order on its head.  Usually she had a good reason, as she did here.  Count Tulles was a fine leader and intimately familiar with the land the battle would be fought upon, but was that enough for the others to accept him as their leader, especially those who outranked him?  Margrave Tristan said nothing, but his brow was furrowed in a furious frown, and his vassals made enough arguments for him that he had no need to speak.  Duke Stellar looked like he badly wanted to say something, but lacked the courage to do so.  Of the remaining great lords, only Duchess Periwinkle seemed unperturbed, her face looking slightly concerned, but not from anger or jealousy.             “See here!” the duchess said as she slammed a hoof on the war table, silencing the other nobles, “This is Celestia’s will, and we shall comply.  Send out your couriers and prepare to depart.  My levies will leave in two hours, with or without you.”             After Duchess Periwinkle left her great hall, the other nobles began to slowly file out, casting vicious glances at Twilight as they left.  Count Tulles took a moment to adjust to his new role before squaring his shoulders and leaving.  Margrave Tristan stayed until the end, and continued to say nothing, but fixed Twilight with a long, burning stare before sweeping out of the room with a flourish of his cape. ***             Despite their protests against Count Tulles’s leadership, the rest of the nobles had all complied with Twilight’s orders and sent out couriers to summon their levies to meet up on the way to Marten.  Now their servants were tearing down their tents in preparation for the three-day march that would precede the battle.  The Brave Companions watched the process as they toured the now-abandoned tournament grounds and made their way to the camp north of Caştelæ Travond.             Here, tearing down tents was being done as well, but the encampments were far humbler than the massive pavilions of the nobility, to match their inhabitants.  This was the army of peasants that Duchess Periwinkle and her vassals had recruited.  At points around the tramped-down field, sergeants and mares-at-arms shouted at the new soldiers to prepare to march.  The peasants, of course, complied.  It was the natural order; who cared if they had never fought in a battle before, or even knew how to wield a weapon?  Not that it mattered much if they could wield a weapon.  The only arms that would be issued them would be a pike; any other weapons they had would be provided by themselves, and were often of low quality if they even had something other than a woodchopping axe or a pitchfork.             “They can’t really expect to go into battle with this,” Rarity commented as she stopped before the wagons several mares-at-arms were filling with barding.             The helmets piled into one wagon were decent enough; they would do their job of deflecting arrows and might even deflect a blade if it was swung without much skill (not all that unlikely when your opponents were also poorly-trained peasant levies.)  The shoes piled into another wagon were also of decent quality, though a few were a bit rusty.  Several of the shoes even had spikes, which would be useful if the enemy got past the line of pikes and the wearer had no other weapon.  The quilted gambesons, however, were, as Rarity put it: “absolutely appalling.”             “This simply won’t do!” the blacksmith/seamstress whinged, “The seams are liable to pull apart at any moment!  It’s too thin and there’s no layer underneath; you may as well just wrap a blanket around yourself for all the protection this’ll give.  There’s almost nothing that won’t just punch right through; you may as well go into battle naked!”             “What’s all this about?” a mare-at-arms with several scrolls tucked into her belt asked as she strode up, having heard the raised voice.             “Look at this!” Rarity demanded, pulling one of the gambesons from the wagon, “Do you really think this will protect you?”             “It doesn’t have to protect me; I have my own barding,” the mare-at-arms said in a bored voice as she rapped a hoof against the cuirass over her superior gambeson, “These are enough that the common rabble won’t revolt or desert, which amounts to the same thing really, except we don’t have to put them down right away if they desert.”             “This is unacceptable,” Rarity put her hoof down, “There’s no way an army outfitted in this can stand against Los Pegasus.  Isn’t it your duty as quartermaster to properly arm your soldiers?”             “Listen, my job is to get them outfitted with gear, and this is the gear we have,” she replied with annoyance, “Nopony put me in charge of commissioning the barding, so we’ll make do with whatever somepony else commissioned.  If you think you can do better, you go right ahead.  I don’t have time.”             “Okay, I will,” Rarity said boldly.             “Will what?” the quartermaster asked in confusion, already having started walking away.             “I will make this equipment actually worth wearing,” she said stiffly.             “In three days, you’re going to improve a thousand quilted gambesons?” the quartermaster asked in disbelief.             “It does seem pretty impossible, Rarity,” Rainbow Dash pointed out.             The other Brave Companions had hung around and remained silent during Rarity’s tirade and talk with Duchess Periwinkle’s quartermaster, but something had to be said.  To outfit the entire army with better barding was a noble thought, but it was too much.  The Brave Companions had other duties, like assembling the various nobles’ levies into an effective fighting force and ensuring it stayed loyal to Celestia.  Well, admittedly that was more Twilight’s responsibility than anypony else’s, but they could support her.             “I’ll do whatever I can,” Rarity announced firmly.             Perhaps she really could make a difference, albeit a small one.  The equipment really is pitiful. Would it be fair for Twilight to deny her friend this undertaking she seemed so set on?  Her friends had come here to support her; it wouldn’t be right for her not to support them back.  It could all be a pointless cause if the army can’t come together, though …             “We will help you however we can, Rarity,” Twilight promised, making her decision.  I can’t just abandon her, can I?  I just hope the others don’t mind me volunteering them; at least Applejack and Rainbow Dash owe me.              “Thank you so much,” Rarity said, revealing how worried she really had been, “I’m going to need shears, several sturdy needles, and lots of thread.  Applejack, Rainbow Dash, see if you can get the soldiers to cut their manes and tails for stuffing.  We’re going to need leather from every tanner along the way; Twilight, I’ll need you to work with the local lords to get it without paying, otherwise we’ll have to make do with the canvas from the tents.  Fluttershy, …” ***             Two days later, after many leagues of travel, Rarity was still working on the army’s barding from the back of the supply wagon as it bounced up it down on the bumpy road.  With the help of her friends, she’d received all the supplies she needed to bring each gambeson up to her standards, which still wasn’t much, but was a far sight better than before.  Her work was also never done.  Though she’d made it through an impressive amount of the original gambesons, as new levies joined up with the army, she also insisted on bringing their equipment up to snuff.  It would’ve been a completely impossible task without the help of Fluttershy and Pinkamena to prepare the barding for the blacksmith’s expertise, or the procurement of supplies by Twilight, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash.  For the latter three, the work was done now, and they merely stayed around for company, Twilight often leaving to speak to this or that noble to keep the peace and enforce Celestia’s will.             “Mistress Twilight!” the voice of a margrave that Twilight was all too familiar with called from up ahead, “Might we have a word?”             A carriage was waiting on the side of the road, Margrave Tristan leaning out the side.  Twilight Sparkle hadn’t spoken to the great lord since before the war council back in Periwinkle’s duchy, but his vassals had made his feelings more than clear over the past two days.  The sorceress had been wondering when the margrave himself would finally speak to her, and she was dreading this conversation.             “Certainly,” Twilight answered pleasantly as she trotted up to the carriage, “Do you mind if we walk?”             The margrave looked surprised before giving a shrug and hopping down from his carriage, giving orders to his servants in harness to go on ahead and his guards to stay at a distance.             “I would think that a lady of Cant’r Laht like yourself would be accustomed to riding,” Margrave Tristan began the conversation as they trotted away from the column of troops.             “During my studies, I rarely left the castle grounds, though I did use a carriage on the rare occasions I had to travel across the city,” Twilight admitted, “Since moving to Ponieville, I have found it better to walk, and I must admit it can be quite refreshing.”             “There is also the lack of suitable roadways,” Tristan pointed out.             “Yes, there is that,” Twilight said, and a long silence passed between the two ponies.             “How much longer do you intend to let this charade go on?” Tristan came to his true intention, now that they were out of hearing distance of anypony else, “It is not right for Count Tulles to lead this army.  You know it, Celestia knows it, so why not put things right before it costs us the battle tomorrow?”             “Whether you like it or not, Celestia has appointed him to be her marshal, so there is no point in trying to usurp his position, especially so close to the battle.”             “This is no power grab, and if it were, then it would be a rightful one,” Tristan defended himself, “To command this force is my right.   I am a margrave; my duty is to guard the border from invasion.  How can you stand by and let a count occupy the position of a margrave?”             “Celestia has commanded it,” Twilight said, and was cut off from saying any more by Tristan’s rapid response.             “Yes, Celestia, who is no queen, but merely Matron of Sorceresses in Cant’r Laht.  She has no house, no title.  Even Count Tulles has that, if only because one of my ancestors knighted one of his ancestors and Celestia later took notice and raised his line to a countship.  Who is she to command the great lords when she holds no title herself?”             “Title or not, you and your ancestors all swore your loyalty to her upon accession to your thrones.  Take care in what you say, lest you cross the line between dissension and treason,” the sorceress warned, “Celestia has written it, and it shall be as she says.”             “You know this is wrong.  There is no way that a count can hold together all the lords of White Tail,” the margrave continued to press Twilight as she increased her pace slightly trotting through the forest, “Tomorrow, on that battlefield, the army will disintegrate as each lord’s levies pursue their own agenda, and the battle will be lost.  Don’t let that happen out of some misguided need to follow Celestia’s every order, no matter how foolish.  Let this army be led by a noble of the proper rank: a margrave.”             “Yes, you are a margrave!  Do you think that I have forgotten and you need to remind me repeatedly?” Twilight demanded angrily as she halted in a small clearing and turned on the stallion, “You are a margrave, but a margrave with no army, a margrave that failed in his duty.  Celestia granted your family their march and entrusted you with preventing a situation just like the one we’re in.  Your duty, as you keep reminding me, is to protect the White Tail Woods from invasion, and yet when the Los Pegasus army invaded your lands, what happened?  Your border forts fell in a day, and your levies that did not die in skirmishes or become trapped in your capitol all dissolved back into the forest! If I were you, I would spend less time questioning Celestia’s decision to appoint Tulles as her marshal and more time wondering if she might decide to revoke your march after such an appalling failure.”             Margrave Tristan was furious, though he couldn’t say anything; everything Twilight had said was true.  There were a few moss-coated standing stones in the overgrown clearing—the last remnants of a millennia-old pegasus holy site—and Twilight sat down on one that had toppled over.  While Tristan tried to formulate a response, she stared at him in the way that she’d seen Fluttershy use on unruly animals, which apparently was also effective on unruly lords.             “Even so, this is still an egregious insult, not only against me, but against Duchess Periwinkle,” Margrave Tristan said in a tightly controlled voice as he brought a new argument before Twilight, “She is the eldest noble present of our rank, and should be given the honor of command if it is not to fall upon me.”             “No,” Twilight said simply.             “No?” Tristan said before laughing nervously, “Does Celestia intend to insult some of the most powerful nobles in her lands?  She would have to be mad not to realize that without White Tail, the Dominions of Cant’r Laht would be without ports, an abundant source of lumber, and a defense against the Kingdom of Los Pegasus’s growing power.”             “She has not forgotten,” Twilight assured him, “But I would suggest you speak to Duchess Periwinkle about the matter before coming to me in her name.  The duchess fully understands Celestia’s intentions with her choice of marshal, and Duke Stellar has also moved into this camp.  It is only you, the margrave with no army, who seems to have a problem anymore with Count Tulles.  Fall into line, or be left out.  I assure you, despite your vassals’ valiant attempts to sway me in your favor over the past two days, those whose levies made it to us will be more than happy to take full command of them without you lording yourself over them.”             Margrave Tristan was struck speechless again, which was just as well, since Twilight was done speaking with him.  She hoped she’d made the right move; this battle could be close, and if Tristan’s vassals decided to walk with him after all, it could be the tipping point.  Somepony had to put this rebellious margrave in line, though, and since Celestia wasn’t here, the duty fell upon her apprentice.             Twilight Sparkle felt a tingle of magic run through her a moment before the gap beneath an arch of standing stones transformed into a wall of magical energy.  The portal blazed for a couple seconds before its casters made themselves known.  Through the portal trotted Penumbra, Amaranth, and Solith of the Cant’r Laht 2nd Mage Cadre, looking just the same as they had weeks earlier, except less frozen.  Once they were all through, Solith closed the portal behind them.             “Ah, how fortuitous,” Penumbra said as he turned to face Twilight with his usual sneering expression, “You’ve landed us right next to her, Sol.”             “Not to suggest that I am not pleased to see you, but what are you doing here?” Twilight asked as she rose from the “no-longer-standing” stone.             “Queen Helianthus has sent a mage with her army,” Amaranth answered, “We felt it was only fair to reply in kind.”             “You need somepony familiar with battlefield spells, and we were available,” Solith added as she straightened her hat with the end of her staff.             Once again, Twilight couldn’t be offended of the mage cadre not counting her in their reckoning of available sorceresses.  Though she’d proven herself capable with combat spells, she was less familiar with spells that would turn the tide of a battle.  Theoretically, she would be able to do some simple ones, but the larger the spell, the more the chance of unintended consequence – fatal ones, in the case of a spell designed to wipe out an army.             “We would be grateful to have you with us for the battle on the morrow,” Twilight said, “Not to mention that I am sure you will provide a much-needed boost in morale.”             “Problems?” Penumbra asked with a raised brow.             “Politics,” Twilight answered, “The nobles are displeased with Celestia’s choice of marshal, and it has been a chore to get them to work together and rally beneath him.”             “So, nothing new, then,” Penumbra said, and motioned for Twilight to lead the way to the column of troops making their way to Marten, “Who was that great lord who took off the moment we arrived?”             “Margrave Tristan Wingra-Hotzern, lord of the sea march and thorn in my side,” Twilight replied with some degree of agitation.             “Yes, him,” Penumbra replied with disgust of his own, “I can’t imagine Celestia would have thought it worth passing on, but do you know that Margrave Tristan ordered all the warning systems of his lands dismantled prior to the invasion?  His border forts fell so swiftly because he ordered construction to expand them, and the news of the invasion reached you from Celestia because he ordered all bells inspected and all warning towers heightened.  There’s no real proof, of course, but it’s almost as if he wants this invasion to succeed.”             Could it be?  A traitor in our midst?  But then, why would he want to command an army he wished to fail, unless he intended to lead it to its death.  He could never allow a loss like that to besmirch his honor, though.  It would look better if he let Count Tulles command, and turned on him with his own troops, except that he hasn’t got enough to do so effectively.  Is he a traitor, or has somepony else betrayed us, or is this just a slip-up?  Dangerous games were being played here. ***             Banners flapped in the breeze as the White Tail army drew up in ranks.  In the midst of the fight, they would look for the standard and sigil of their lord, and for ponies wearing the same barding as them.  Rarity had worked herself into exhaustion improving all the gambesons of the army, and was now asleep in a tent, but her hard work had paid off.  The barding would protect the soldiers far better than what they’d had before, though whether it would be enough was yet to be seen.             Upon a nearby hill fluttered the standards of the houses Haltrotsun, Redallion, Eeethok, and de Perth.  The Brave Companions and the Cant’r Laht 2nd Mage Cadre were assembled together, with a fine view of the battlefield.  The White Tail army stood upon the eastern bank of the Meath River, at the only place it could be forded for leagues in either direction.  The peasant soldiers had planted their pikes in the muddy ground to create a deadly wall, and awaited their enemies.  Though the Brave Companions would not be taking part in the battle, unless something went terribly wrong, and the mage cadre was only to provide support against a hostile mage, they could feel the tension down below as the Los Pegasus army emerged from the tree line across the river and advanced in a line down the slope before coming to a halt. ***             “… the Wingra-Hotzern colors fly on their right flank, along with those of all Margrave Tristan’s vassals whose levies we did not wipe out on our way here,” a pony with a spyglass concluded to his superior.             “Duchess Periwinkle’s forces hold their left,” Marshal Flax said thoughtfully, “And the center is composed of …?”             “The various counts and barons with no overlord,” the soldier replied as he looked through his spyglass again, “The Count of Marten appears to have been given command of the center.”             “Makes sense; these are his lands we’re in,” Flax said as she paced, making it very difficult for her page to fit her armor on her, “You didn’t mention the banner of House Astras; where is Duke Stellar?”             “Nowhere to be seen, my marquesa,” the soldier answered after scanning the field again.             “My marshal, the Duke of Anglidon has had many internal troubles since he took the throne,” a smooth-voiced stallion in flowing robes pointed out, “We must also consider that our kingdom does border his lands for a nonnegligible distance.  It is not unlikely that he has taken his levies home in order to either stomp down a rebellion or protect eastern White Tail.”             “Not a bad argument,” Flax grunted, stopping her pacing long enough for her page to attach her spaulders, “I don’t like not knowing where he is, though.  All the other lords of White Tail are here, but he and his vassals are all conspicuously absent.”             “There are illusions all around us to make the forest seem denser and herd us toward the ford, but no illusions hiding Duke Stellar’s forces,” the robed stallion assured the marshal, “If you are still worried, I could level these woods with a spell.”             “No,” Flax said with a raised hoof, “If there are illusions here then there are also enemy sorcerers.  There’s no need to provoke them unnecessarily and lose our forces before battle is even joined.”             “As you wish, my marshal,” the sorcerer said with a slight bow.             “They’ve made a mistake,” Marshal Flax said with a smile as her page pulled her helmet on, “They’ve drawn their forces up on the far side of the river, expecting us to have to cross to reach them.  I will do no such thing.  Our force is more unified than their motley assortment, and I have plenty of patience.  Even if they don’t break and cross the river to meet us first, we have plenty of time to send forces upstream or downstream to cross at another point and attack their rear.  In fact, the longer we wait, the more chance we have of reinforcements reaching us.  I would bet on the former, however.”             “Very good, my marshal. I hope that you don’t forget me in the midst of battle.  Queen Helianthus sent me because of my skills in sorcery, which could prove very useful if things turn against us,” the sorcerer reminded her.             “I would avoid using magic to alter this battle.  Do not forget that our opponents fight for Cant’r Laht, the most magical city in the world.  Only act if it is absolutely necessary,” Marshal Flax said before calling out to an armored pony cantering down the line, “Duke Iterian!”             “What is it, queensmarshal?” the duke asked as he trotted up to her, the soldiers making way for him.             “Take your forces and the red and black royal bow forward,” Flax gave the duke his orders, “Do not cross the river to engage.  Harry them with arrows and try to provoke them into charging across to our side.”             “Yes, queensmarshal,” Duke Iterian responded before galloping over to rally his forces. ***             “Movement,” Count Tulles commented as slightly less than half of the Los Pegasus army began to advance, “Everypony hold fast!  Archers, prepare to let loose your arrows!”             Even after stringing out their forces to siege and hold Margrave Tristan’s forts, the Los Pegasus force had the numerical advantage, but Count Tulles knew this land.  This was his land, the land he’d known since he was a foal and protected from beasts and brigands since he’d grown into a stallion, first as a knight and then as its lord.  Just over the hill on the flank of Duchess Periwinkle’s forces was the town of Marten, and just beyond that was the keep where he’d been born, and where his family now waited, along with every townspony who could not bear arms in defense.  Nopony would take this land from him.             The Los Pegasus forces came to a halt on the western edge of the river, the front lines raising their shields against the hail of arrows from the White Tail archers.  Then their own archers returned fire.  Those that had shields raised them, but most of the soldiers on the east bank had to do without, and bent their heads, praying their helmets would deflect the missiles and quilted gambesons would cushion the blows.  Though some were struck, many seemed to be saved miraculously, as the arrows bounced off their barding as if it were not just pockets of hair sewn together, but equal to the plate of the lords commanding them.  It was fortunate that such a thing happened, for otherwise the losses from the Los Pegasus volleys would have quickly demoralized and broken the army.             On the right flank of the White Tail army, the knights pranced impatiently.  Standing still among peasants with pikes was not their idea of a good time.  There was no glory to be had in doing nothing while arrows rained down, and to them, glory was everything.  It would increase their prestige, perhaps even the rank of their title if they were lucky.  That, of course, would depend upon their liege, or his liege, and they were becoming increasingly tired of their liege.  The margrave wouldn’t grant them what they wanted, for it would take away from his own power; however, if Celestia heard of their deeds to win the day, she would surely elevate them, and there would be nothing Tristan could do about it.             “Hold!  Hold I say!” Margrave Tristan ordered as some of his vassals fitted their lances and prepared for a charge across the river, “I bloody said to hold!”             “Aye, and you also said to tear down and rebuild our defenses, and now the Los Pegasus banner flies above our homes!” one of the armored ponies shouted back, “If you won’t move to take back our land, then we’ll do it without you, and when we’ve thrown the invaders out, we’ll rule without you!”             Margrave Tristan stood dumbstruck.  Perhaps it was for the best he hadn’t been put in charge of the army, if he couldn’t even command his own vassals.  Everything had gone so terribly wrong, and he was beginning to worry that after this conflict, he would not be able to control his lands as effectively as before.             The armored knights galloped off through the shallow water, their lances ready to strike the defenders on the other side.  Tristan’s remaining vassals averted their eyes as he looked to them, and a few marched off to prepare their own lances for the next charge. ***             “Margrave Tristan’s knights are charging,” Marshal Flax’s aide reported.             “Does it look like he ordered their charge?” the marshal asked.             “Hard to tell, my marquesa,” the soldier replied as he scanned the battlefield with his spyglass, “He is not taking part in the charge himself.”             “A probing attack, then, unless discipline has already broken down,” Flax said, “Odd that the army’s commander would send his own knights so soon, unless he wanted first glory.”             “Should I signal orders to Duke Iterian?”             “No, he knows what to do,” Flax said boredly, “So far, they have done exactly as predicted.  This will be easier than I’d hoped.” ***             Duke Iterian issued orders for the left flank of his force to advance as the White Tail knights began to flounder in the mud as they neared the western bank of the river.  Their lance charge had almost no shock value by the time the knights reached their opponents, and the long weapons proved to be more of a hinderance than a help.  Swords, maces, and axes glittered in the light and spray of the river as the two forces clashed.  The foam soon turned red as knights began to fall, far more on the Cant’r Laht side than Los Pegasus.             Margrave Tristan held nothing but disdain for his vassals who had charged out against his orders and were now falling to blows from their enemy, but it wouldn’t do to abandon them to their fate.  Tristan rallied the rest of his vassals and their levies, and led a second charge across the ford.  Maybe if he saved them, they would be more grateful to him.  And if they died, then perhaps their heirs would be less rebellious.  Either way worked for the margrave, who desperately needed a win right now. ***             “Margrave Tristan’s forces are advancing,” Amaranth commented, “As expected.”             “They’re all going t’ die,” Applejack said sadly.             “All?  No.  Most of them?  Probably,” Penumbra said without emotion, “It was part of the plan, though no orders were given.  We did not command this sacrifice; they freely chose to make it.”             “You mean their lords made it,” Applejack said, and Penumbra shrugged, “Farmers, loggers, tavernkeepers, ponies like me.  Many o’ them will die, for their homes, but die nonetheless, an’ you’ll stand here an’ do nothin’.”             “There is nothing we can do that we are not already doing,” Penumbra said with finality.             “You have sorcery,” the farmer pointed out.             “Yes, I could annihilate the entire Los Pegasus army with a blast of flame that dried up the river, charred the land, and split the trees from the heat, but what then?” Penumbra replied, growing more livid with each word, “They have a mage as well, who would return in kind, wiping our entire army from the face of Equus.  We could shield the army, of course, and the other mage could do the same for their side, and we would begin attacking each other instead.  Except, it would be impossible for us to protect both ourselves and our respective armies, but if we were lost, then the army would fall next.  It is an inescapable loop.”             “There are four of you and only one of him,” Applejack said, “You could at least try!”             “No!  Down that path lies only death and destruction for us all!” Penumbra yelled angrily, “I have seen it all before.  This is what happened the last time I tried!”             With a violent motion, the unicorn sorcerer flipped the long half of his mane away and over the other side of his head.  It didn’t take long for the other ponies to realize that there was something distinctly wrong about the side of his face that was usually hidden beneath the mane.  It seemed almost to be made of wax, and a shiver went down Twilight’s spine as she realized what it was only a moment before Penumbra dispelled the illusion.  His true face, hidden by his mane and sorcery, was far worse.  Penumbra’s hair was gone, for the most part, replaced by extensive burn scars that made it look almost as if his face had melted.  His eye was milky, lidless, and immobile in its socket, and his cheek was completely gone, revealing his bleached teeth and jawbone, the pulled back flesh giving him his customary sneer.             “If I could help, I would,” Penumbra said to the shocked ponies as he restored the illusion and pulled his mane back into place, “I will not risk this happening to anypony again, unless there is no other choice.  Do not take my hesitancy to act as cowardice or apathy, but as the full understanding of my actions’ consequences.”             The Brave Companions stood in silence, letting what they’d just seen and heard sink in.  Amaranth and Solith had already known, of course, and continued about their duties.  Amaranth stared at the crude map of the battlefield she’d carved into the ground, playing cards with trees on them stuck into the dirt at strategic points, generating the illusion of dense forest wherever she’d placed them.  Solith stood nearby and leaned on her staff, concentrating on another, more difficult illusion.  A horn sounded two long blasts from the White Tail line below.             “That’s the signal,” Solith said, and released her illusion at the same time that Amaranth removed a card from her map. ***             Across the battlefield, on the western bank of the river and north of Marshal Flax’s forces, the trees suddenly vanished, and a host of ponies bearing the banners of Duke Stellar and his vassals appeared in their place.  The Los Pegasus sorcerer had detected the illusion of the trees placed by Amaranth, but hadn’t thought to look deeper and had missed Solith’s illusion hiding the soldiers.  Having also heard the signal from Count Tulles, Duke Stellar’s forces advanced toward the river, a group of knights with the young duke at the head charging ahead of the main force.  As they neared the enemy flank, they split in two.             The company of archers never knew what hit them as the knight’s lances speared them or they were trampled by armored hooves, or cut into by blades their minimal barding couldn’t protect them from.  Screams from the dying archers gave the ponies on the left flank of the Los Pegasus force some warning, but not enough for it to make much difference.  Many of them were entangled with Margrave Tristan’s troops at the edge of the water, and those that did manage to turn about and present their pikes did so in confusion.  Duke Stellar and his knights slammed into them, most managing to avoid being impaled, and set to breaking the line and fighting through to the margrave’s surviving soldiers.             “Where did they come from?” Flax demanded of the smooth-talking sorcerer at her side, “I thought you said Duke Stellar’s forces were nowhere near here!”             “They were hiding beneath multiple layers of illusion.  I detected one, and so thought by seeing though it I had seen through to the truth.  It would have taken an expert to detect the second spell beneath the first,” the sorcerer explained.             “Now we must relieve Duke Iterian, lest they manage to roll up his line.  Prepare to advance!” Marshal Flax ordered, before speaking only to the sorcerer, “You hold back.  Stay in the rearguard with Baron Whisper’s forces and the yellow royal bow.”             “As you command, my marshal,” the sorcerer said with an over-exaggerated bow, remaining calm on the outside despite the annoyance he felt over being tricked.  The Cant’r Laht sorcerer wants to play?  I’ll show him something he won’t forget.  ***             “The rest of the Los Pegasus army is advancing!” Pinkamena cried out as Flax’s force began a march toward the river, angling slightly so their left flank would intercept Duke Stellar’s approaching levies.             The relief from the hidden knights had turned the skirmish at the river around.  Most of Margrave Tristan’s forces were no longer struggling through water, and the fight moved onto muddy but drier ground as Duke Iterian’s flank began to crumble.  The Los Pegasus duke, fearful of his line disintegrating before relief from Marshal Flax arrived, began shifting his forces to push back against Tristan and Stellar.             Noticing the shift and the sudden drop in the number of pikes pointed in his direction, Count Tulles ordered part of his force across the river.  It was difficult not to notice knights and armed peasants crossing the ford, and Duke Iterian’s forces quickly became confused.  If they didn’t rush to the flank’s aid, it would collapse in on them, but if they continued to follow orders, there was a good chance the ponies crossing the water would strike them without the soldiers being able to defend themselves.  The line disintegrated into confusion as each pony chose their own path, and in doing so, obstructed the others from following theirs.  The nobility and sergeants among the troops shouted orders louder, but it wouldn’t help.             The Brave Companions and the Cant’r Laht 2nd Mage Cadre looked abruptly skyward as the clouds began to gather unnaturally and darken.  Directed by the sorcerer across the river, they assembled and thunder roared out as lightning lanced down from the heavens.  The bolts struck the river, electrifying it and roasting the crossing soldiers.  The White Tail army cried out in anger and shied away from the river as the burned corpses of their comrades floated by.  Compared to the full size of the army, only a small force had died, but the lightning had delayed the crossing long enough for Flax’s force to meet up with Duke Iterian’s and for order to be restored.             The storm clouds continued to hover menacingly, and the Brave Companions turned to the mage cadre.  The three mages gathered around Amaranth’s map and prepared their respective spells.  After some mumbling of incantations, Solith thrust her staff’s end into the earth, on the groove representing the river, and traced a new path for it that arced to the west.  Down below, the ground shook as it reshaped itself, a vast groove appearing that cut off Flax’s rearguard.  Amaranth threw a card into the ground at the upstream end of the river’s new path.  As she said a few words, the card began to glow and a barrier rose up in the river, diverting the water down its new course.  Now all but the Los Pegasus rearguard and Stellar’s levies were on the east side of the river, only a field of mud between them.  Staring out on the battlefield, Penumbra made a motion with his forelegs, and a vast field of flame appeared, baking the mud dry in seconds.             With nothing standing in their way, and nowhere for their enemy to retreat, Count Tulles ordered the White Tail army’s advance.  As their flank rejoined with Margrave Tristan’s forces, Duke Stellar’s knights succeeded in pushing through to join up as well.  Once more united, the army began to push in on their boxed-in enemies.  Across the new river, Duke Stellar’s forces quickly crushed the outnumbered force under Baron Whisper’s command and their accompanying archers.  Only the sorcerer among them caused noticeable trouble, killing several ponies with his spells, but he quickly teleported away after being struck in the side by an arrow.  The battle had turned decidedly in favor of the White Tail forces, and there was no turning it back. ***             Marshal Flax turned about in consternation as her army began to crumble around her.  She hadn’t wanted that sorcerer to use his magic, and yet he had done so, bringing this failure upon them. Now the river no longer formed a convenient barrier between them and their enemies, but a barrier cutting off their retreat.  The left flank was falling even as she tried to issue orders to the lords under her command, who seemed just as frightened as the peasants they were commanding.  Duchess Periwinkle was moving south to surround and crush their right flank as well.  There was no other option.             “Retreat!” Flax commanded as she watched Duke Stellar’s soldiers pursue the fleeing remnants of her rearguard on the west bank of the river, “Retreat south!  Ford the river!”             The Los Pegasus forces began a disordered retreat, many dropping their weapons and shedding cumbersome gear as they splashed across the river.  Duke Iterian’s knights rushed to stop Duchess Periwinkle’s forces from cutting off the escape route.  Too late for it to be of much use, an earthen bridge sprouted up across the river, provided by the vanished sorcerer from his hiding place.  As the last Los Pegasus tails disappeared into the woods, the White Tail forces gave a victory cry.             With such a crushing defeat, it was unlikely that the campaign would continue, and if it did, the Los Pegasus army would be in no state to win a victory.  Unless Queen Helianthus intended to raise another army, which would be met by a more prepared army raised by Celestia, this war was already over.  Autumn was beginning, and the campaigning season would end with it, granting Equestria relative peace until spring. ***             Marshal Flax looked over what was left of the army’s supplies.  They’d had to leave much behind in their undignified retreat from the field of battle earlier that day.  Now, they would have to leave even more behind if they hoped to return to Los Pegasus without their enemy catching them.  It was easy to decide what to leave; if it couldn’t be eaten within the time it took to arrive home, it wasn’t worth keeping.  There were some things, though, that couldn’t simply be left behind for the enemy to discover.             The camp was still and silent as Flax hauled down a small chest from the wagon her tent and personal belongings had been stowed in.  Even though she’d ordered only the tent, bedroll, and collapsible desk unpacked, other items were missing from the wagon, taken by thieves.  Order was beginning to break down; Flax had commanded the camp’s guards to stop anypony attempting to leave, but had no doubt that such an order would never be carried out, as most of the guards would also have vanished by sunrise.  A quarter of her force lay dead on the battlefield, but desertions reduced her to less than half strength.  It would be a long and painful march back to Los Pegasus.             By the light of the torch she’d stuck in the ground, Flax opened the chest and began to page through the sheets of parchment within.  She began to sort them into two piles, one for documents that would still prove of use to her and one for documents that the enemy could not be allowed to see.  Queen Helianthus wasn’t fool enough to believe she could hold White Tail Wood by force alone; this wasn’t the Westerlands.  She knew that she would need the initial cooperation of its many lords if she wanted to wrench the territory away from Celestia, and in light of this had drawn up many promises to appease these lords.  The enemy could not be allowed to see these.             She paused at the last sheet, which bore one of the most ambitious promises.  It was a charter for the Principality of Helfast, a large realm to be granted to one of Celestia’s ambitious nobles.  If the Battle of Martenford had gone differently, it was likely that a margrave would’ve agreed to become a prince and ruled a larger domain in exchange for bending the knee to Queen Helianthus.  Sadly, the world would never know now, and it would be best as if the possibility had never existed.             “Queensmarshal,” a stallion’s voice startled Flax, and she dropped the charter into the pile of documents to save.             She loosened her sword and turned to face the pony who’d startled her.  It was only one of Duke Iterian’s vassals, a count with a name she couldn’t recall, but she recognized him as a loyal and devoted subject of the kingdom and an honorable soldier.  Too many of those had been lost today.  Many knights and lords, including Duke Iterian himself, had been killed or captured.  When peace was made, many ransoms would be paid, but all in one direction.             “You should not be alone here in the dark, queensmarshal.  There has been much talk in the camp against you because of our defeat today,” the count warned, looking around, “If there is something you need done, I beg you allow me to do it in your stead.”             “Thank you,” Flax said as she tucked the documents to keep into the front of her surcoat, out of sight, and grabbed the other stack, “I need you to find a fire and destroy these completely.  The enemy cannot find them.”             “Yes, queensmarshal,” the count said, giving a bow before taking the stack of parchment and trotting off into the dark.             Once he was gone, Flax removed the documents from her clothing and was surprised to see the charter had ended up in the wrong pile.  Well, maybe it’s not so bad, after all.  There’s nothing incredibly incriminating in it for Los Pegasus, and it would only sow dissent among the lords of White Tail, which could only be to our benefit.  Flax trotted a few paces out of the camp before discarding the parchment in the undergrowth.  If it’s lost, no harm is done, but if by luck it is found, then it’ll serve Los Pegasus’s interests in tipping White Tail over to our control.  Perhaps we can salvage at least a small victory from the remains of this campaign.