Tractor Pull - 20th of Lunerdusk, 08 EoH
Falcon’s Hold, West Bloomfield - Equestria
Everyone had assumed the final war game would begin with a little pomp and circumstance. A prize was on the line, ten contenders had emerged, and another twenty or so underdogs might be able to squeeze a win out from under the more obvious candidates noses.
No one had expected to be made to stand at attention with their crews on the parade ground until eight in the morning.
Everyone had expected the base commander to make an appearance given the importance of the final game. A speech would need to be had, things everyone already knew reiterated, but this time with an official flavoring mixed into the facts.
No one had expected the commander to take the stage, open a sealed envelope and announce:
“By the order of Princess Luna, all crews participating in these war games whose statistics place them below the top thirty are hereby ordered to act as a singular team and oppose all crews still in the running for first place. This team shall be designated “Meteor Hammer”. Meteor Hammer shall deploy in advance of all other crews by one half of an hour.
“All crews which are not a part of Meteor Hammer are to form an alliance. This alliance shall be designated “Swordbreaker”. Swordbreaker is to oppose Meteor Hammer as individual units, squads, or a collective team. Swordbreaker is to fight among itself if and only if Meteor Hammer has been defeated.
“Should Meteor Hammer emerge victorious, the best performing crew with Swordbreaker will receive the prize as they would have before these orders were issued. However, the entirety of team Meteor Hammer will receive bonus pay equal to ten percent of one month’s pay.
“Our intent behind these orders is to ensure only the best of the best can emerge victorious, as a battle royal between individual Ace crews and normal troops will only sort the great from the average, not the greatest from the great. May the victor receive their due, and may those who lose this day force them to earn it.”
That half hour had come and gone. Trac, Bunker, and Thunder had spent it sitting in front of their tanks with the other twenty-nine contending crews. A half hour spent listening to a hundred and seventy tanks moving into position had put everyone on edge. Especially since the commanders had to improvise their battle plan and discard the last week of preparations...
“Do we have ANY idea of what to do here?” Trac asked Bunker quietly as the mare returned from a quick huddle with other tank commanders.
Bunker twisted her lips and shrugged. “No. Not really. The best we can come up with is…” Bunker gave her friends a hurt look and sighed. “No easy way to say it. Ten of the crews here are here because they played dirty. But that will help us today.”
Thunder’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Dirty, how?”
“They’ve got geomancers on their crews. Not professionals, hobbyists. But they were able to disable incoming rounds with showers of flint shards, make barricades and so on. That’s not against the rules per-say as they state crewmen are to act to their fullest potential, but it’s a very unfair advantage. One we’ll use to put as big and thick of a stone wall in front of our group as we pull out of here.”
“Then what?” Track grunted as he looked over the terrain. “Thirty Aces versus a hundred and seventy is still terrible odds.”
Bunker snorted. “No, shit. The whole plan hinges on our geos. We’re going to split into lances of three and watch each other closely. Each lance will be escorting one geo to the western canyon. They won't expect us to go there since there’s only one entrance and it would trap us. We will be taking the lead of a lance consisting of Halberd, Crashy McSplodey, and us.”
Trac nodded and looked wearily out over the expansive battlefield, his eyes focusing on each bump in the rolling plains. “Okay. They’ve had half an hour to get ready. They know we will be leaving here. We’re going to see a ton of ambushes.”
Bunker nodded. “Mhm!” She looked down at the watch built into her clockwork leg and nodded. “Time to start the pre-battle check. Everyone pile in.”
The three quickly climbed up the tank and entered through the hatch. Trac’s eyes narrowed immediately, as did Bunker and Thunder’s. Crusader smelled wrong. The oily, singed, metallic scent was gone. Replaced by the scent of fresh leather, brass, and the faint whiff of ozone certain sorcery leaves behind.
“Strange… It smells like they replaced most the internals,” Bunker noted as she took a seat in her chair and immediately frowned. “And bucked with my seat…”
Bunker began to fiddle with her seat’s adjustment levers, working it back into position.
“Personally, I’d overhaul every single one of these before the final game,” Thunder mumbled as he plopped into his own seat. “Pieces of junk should be half rebuilt between uses.”
Trac nodded in agreement and took his own seat. “Oh for… My seat’s messed up too. The least they could have done is remembered the seat’s positions before reupholstering them.”
Thunder nodded in agreement. “Yeah… So, sis? What’s the plan for avoiding a hundred and seventy guns bombarding us the minute we pull out of the parking lot?”
Bunker finished adjusting her seat and pulled the commander’s controls towards her. “We are going to scatter like cockroaches and head along different routes to the western canyon. While breaking up, the lance’s geo will keep creating barriers for us, but stop once we’ve dispersed. The idea is each lance will be as stealthy as possible. We'll lose a lot of tanks, but much less than if we tried to move as one huge obvious target.
“Once at the canyon, if the surviving tanks have any geomancers crewing them, we dig in, make a fortress and weather a siege. If we don’t, we use the natural terrain to force them through the canyon mouth and fight till the end. It’s the best we can do on short notice.”
Trac tapped a hoof to his chin in thought. “If that’s the case… Can I plot our course, Sarge?”
Bunker nodded. “Do it. But make sure our lance blades can keep up with you.”
Trac nodded and reached up to the compartment above his head for the map-book. Taking the book in hoof, Trac paged through until he found the maps he was looking for and spread them out across the dash to read them.
There are a few routes which will provide us with significant cover. But everyone knows that. They may not know the destination, but our opponents know tanks can move in those areas unseen easily. They will be watching them or using them. We can’t use an open area for the same reason. We need something in the mid…
A riverbed on the map caught Trac’s eye. He began to sketch a quick route, his pencil tracing over the map in a rough—
Trac’s eye saw a gauge he’d never seen before. “Wait… The hay is this?” Trac squinted at the gauge, doing his best to read it in the dim lights. “Bunker? Can you turn on the cabin lights?”
Bunker nodded and flipped the switch. The cabin immediately filled with soothing white light. The gauge read Harmonic Stability.
“Sarge? We have a new gauge on the dash,” Trac lifted the map up to inspect the rest of the console, immediately spotting a new set of controls below the gauge, as well as several modifications to the hardware he had come to know.
“Uh, are you certain we—” Bunker stopped mid sentence as she found a wax sealed envelope tucked into a compartment of the commander’s station.
An envelope marked as being for the commander’s eyes only. “One sec, Trac.”
Bunker opened the envelope, removed a single letter, read it, and grew white as a sheet. She bent down, made certain her crew wasn't watching her, then folded the letter into a small square and ate it.
Bunker cleared her throat, getting her crew’s attention, then held up the now empty envelope.
“According to this, the engineering crews found out Crusader was missing some systems. Like, this heap rolled off the assembly line missing parts. They had the replacements finally come in four days ago and put them in.”
Trac turned around, having missed his Commander disposing of her orders. “But—”
“It’s nothing critical. We got this far without them. Let me know if anything is screwy. Like if the new controls are in the way of anything.”
Thunder turned around and gave Bunker a look. “I know these tanks are terrible, but Crusader rolled out with a whole system missing? That sounds like ponyfeathers to me.”
“Well, that’s what Command said in their note,” Bunker reached into her pocket and took out her notebook. “I finished my checklist already. I’m going to go over our stats. See how many tanks we need to down to win this thing. You guys finish getting your stations ready.”
The three did their best to get Crusader ready to go. The unfamiliar controls didn’t interfere with Trac for long. They seemed less confusingly laid out, and the new systems controls slotted neatly into odd gaps which had been in the old console.
“Huh… We really were missing components,” Trac said as he finished the last item on his checklist.
Thunder nodded. “Yeah. A few gaps in my controls have been filled up. I knew these were pieces of shit but… Where were these built? Some quality control guy is getting fired.”
Trac nodded. “Especially since we have a Hostile Detection System. But I doubt we’ll be able to even power that on with how little energy these things have to spare.”
Thunder’s jaw dropped. “These things can detect each other?! No wonder we were having problems hiding.”
“Apparently,” Trac shrugged. “Bunker’s right though. We got this far without them.”
Bunker nodded. “Right, and I agree with Trac. We won't get to turn those on. Not with how hot Trac makes Crusader run.”
The mare sighed and looked down at her crew with weary eyes. “Guys? We can't lose focus. We’ve got a hundred and seventy tanks to fight. Finish the checklists.”
Trac turned and gave Bunker a salute. “Yes, ma’am!”
Princess Twilight Sparkle - 20th of Lunerdusk, 08 EoH
Sanctum Solarium, Canterlot - Equestria
The gold topped spires of Canterlot gleamed beneath the first light of dawn. Pillars of white marble tipped with fire, reaching up to the heavens from an ancient mountainside. A more magnificent sight did not exist within Equestria’s borders. Truly Canterlot deserved its title as a wonder of the ancient world.
Twilight sat within the city’s central spire. The Sanctum Solarium, the tallest tower in the palace, and therefore the city. The morning sun rose above the window, bathing the room in a stream of golden light and providing a view of the entire southern half of Equestria’s core regions.
Most sovereigns would have made such a palatial space their personal chambers. Not Princess Celestia. This tower served as the palace’s secure room.
The room’s walls and ceiling were covered in gold leafed plaster. A net of fine copper mesh lay beneath the plaster and the floorboards. The mesh had been crafted by the finest galvanic engineers in the kingdom specifically to block all galvanic communications.
The Faraday Cage was but one of many such protections. A litany of runes blocked magical eavesdropping, remote viewing, teleportation, gateway opening, and every other means of magically accessing, listening, or viewing the room.
Mundane means of preventing sound from traveling had been taken into account as well. The walls were extra thick and lined with enough foam, stone, and other acoustic materials to prevent even a thestral from listening in.
The door was equally as secure, weighing in at two tons. It took Celestia significant effort to push it open.
Twilight’s ears perked as the massive door creaked open, pushed not only with Celestia’s telekinetic might but her hooves as well. Neither of those forces could open the door on their own. This room was for Alicorns only.
Celestia’s four clockwork legs hummed loudly as they drew even further on her magical reserves. The platinum plated limbs were shaped to match the feminine ideals of the ancient times in which they had been made, giving the Princess a regal, statuesque look which came through even as she did something as simple as push open a door.
“My apologies, Twilight. Morning court had a pressing issue which I could not ignore,” Celestia said as she entered the Solarium.
Twilight stepped forward and took hold of the door, closing it herself. While Twilight had no clockworks of her own, she knew Celestia’s hip and shoulders ached when she had to use her full strength. Modern replacement limbs had no such problems, but Twilight wouldn’t dream of telling the ancient princess to abandon something a long dead friend had made for her.
As the door clicked shut, Celestia cast a quick spell upon it. Golden light from the room’s hidden runes began to glow as the Solarium checked itself and its occupants for recording devices and spells. Finding none, the room closed the windows of its own accord, and turned on its lights.
“It’s alright, Princess,” Twilight said with a polite bow, her horn nearly scraping the floor.
Celestia rolled her eyes. “There is no need to call me by my title. We are of equal station.”
Twilight looked up, offering a sheepish grin before she cleared her throat. “Old habits die hard, P— Celestia. Don’t worry, it’s not quite eight yet. There’s still time for you to abort the test if you want.”
Please want to abort… This isn’t a good idea. At least, I don’t think so. Did I forget something about her plans? Why so many nested plans? It’s impossible to keep track of.
Celestia nodded and looked Twilight in the eyes. “Hopefully we do not need to. Has anything unexpected happened?”
Twilight shook her head. “No. Everything is proceeding according to plan. Um, as far as I can tell. That is. Falcon’s hold will begin its final war game in around forty minutes. I have prepared several contingency plans in case the games are interrupted, but your— I mean, our agents tell me the griffons have only been observing and show no signs of preparing for covert operations.”
Celestia nodded once, satisfied. “Then the plan worked. Were you able to replace the old tanks on time?”
Twilight nodded again. “Yes. As far as anypony can tell, the griffons suspect nothing. After all, with how many spare parts the prototypes have cycled through in the last few months, smuggling in the real tanks piece by piece was trivial.”
At least that plan was well thought out. When I was little, your plans all seemed so perfect and wise. Are you getting to be foolish, or am I more perceptive now?
“Good! Hopefully they buy our ruse.” A triumphant smile overtook Celestia’s face only to be quickly replaced with a distant look. “Preparing for a war you know will happen is so difficult when your preparations could cause another war… I miss the days before instant-communication, Twilight. It’s the worst double-edged sword.”
Twilight bit her lip and shuffled her hooves against the floorboards. I need to say something. The tech-gap is huge. She can’t really understand what the difference will be. But I can’t call her on this outright! She’s Princess Celestia!
Twilight frowned and quickly pulled together the most diplomatic phrasing she could. “With all due respect, what makes you think developing a new class of tank would provoke the griffons into open conflict? They have a very long history of saber-rattling by war gaming on our border. What we see happening now is almost identical to—”
Celestia raised a hoof, quieting Twilight. “It’s not the tanks. It’s not testing them near the border. It’s more complicated than that. International politics is not yet something I expect you to understand fully. Suffice to say, the aggressive trade deals I cut with them last year, combined with our increase in military production, the planned replacement of our core-region commanders which we know they know about, the upcoming Alliance Negotiations with the Zebricans, our creation of a brand-new line of tanks, and of course your recent ascension… Well, it all sends a clear message to the High King.”
Twilight frowned. “But… If we make it look like that new design is terrible it won't seem like we are preparing for war against them?”
Celestia shook her head. “No. It will. It will also tell the High King that Equestria isn’t invulnerable. He will be less worried. I believe the peace of mind will be more than enough for him to choose not to preemptively attack. Especially once we begin circulating the story that our latest super-tank is a bust in public news channels.
“All of Equestria will believe the JP-9 Bronco was an experimental design which failed. We will then inform the public that the design has been stripped back to be functional and unveil that JP-9a as a tank made expressly not to waste the money spent developing the JP-9. The 9as will be exactly that, and with how much public attention the project will have gotten, the Griffons will believe we failed completely and wasted significant resources. We simply conceal the existence of the JP-9b, using the 9 and the 9a as camouflage. We don't need very many of them, it won't be hard.
“That WILL prevent war. The High King knows Equestria wouldn’t attack them without provocation and several aces-in-the-hole, as it were.”
Twilight nodded twice. “I understand. But what will you do about the JP-9b? I designed its Harmonics and Observer. Rainbow helped with the turret bearings. Everything is frictionless, stabilized… The fake models don’t even compare. They will very obviously be out-preformed.”
Celestia smiled and winked at Twilight. “That depends entirely on how the ten production models handle in today's’ test. Yes, they will have different systems and capabilities, but I am confident that it won't be more than what can be attributed to an excellent crew who has finally mastered their vehicle.”
Twilight sighed and rubbed her forehead with her hooves. But then, the tanks, will not, look, like, junk!
“Princess, the 9bs will outperform the 9s in every last category. The Griffon’s spies will notice the change and be suspicious.”
“No they won’t,” Celestia shook her head firmly. “You forget that I’ve observed the entire development process. The Harmonic system is the most visible of all modifications. Yet, you cannot see them at work for more than twenty meters. To any spies watching, it will seem like the less talented operators are simply poor shots.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. Is that what she’s banking on? That might work. “Well, that is possible… But I’ve seen the blueprints for each variant. I checked the arcane systems for you in each of these prototypes. I know what they can do compared to the intentionally sabotaged variant. If the griffins have a spy in the tank crews, the whole plan is lost.”
Celestia nodded. “Yes. But nothing is risk-free, Twilight. My agents informed me that none of the battalion are spies.”
Twilight humed. “Well, you have a point. If we don’t put faith somewhere, we’ll never believe anything will work.” But we could have a much better plan. Is there still something I’m missing here?
Celestia nodded and trotted over to a desk along the wall to pour herself a glass of wine. “It’s a flawed plan, but so are all plans. You can only plan around what you know, and you should always know that you can’t know what you don’t know. Refusing to act due to the unforeseen is how you lose a kingdom. There is a risk, but if we must fight the griffins as a stepping stone to putting the Dark Lord down once and for all, so be it.”
Twilight bit her lip. “Celestia, I understand your side of the debate, but from where I stand, this is an enormous gamble. We can still abort the test. The ten tanks we’ve replaced are in pieces on the train. We can abort, put them back together and proceed with simply selecting her trainers after a ‘mechanical failure delay’ lets us reassemble the 9s we took apart. We could then test the full systems later on. Afterall, you’ll still get those high quality crews to use as trainers out of this. The operation wont be for nothing.”
Celestia shook her head, finished her glass of wine and set the crystal glass back on the desk. “No. We need the real data on the Broncos. He’ll be back soon. I can feel it.”
Twilight sighed and looked down at the floor. “I— I’m sorry. I wish I had ascended faster. I could have been ready… But I have to ask, what do you expect tanks to do against Sombra when he returns?”
Celestia snorted. “Nothing. I expect them to cut through his defenses and allow Luna and I to access his palace without getting injured and draining our stamina. How do you think he won last time? Proceed with the test, Twilight. Do not worry about the Griffons. Luna has a contingency plan for them. A little twist on the championship match. If they don’t believe our best pilots will be giving it their all… Well, suffice to say I’ll have vastly overestimated their intelligence agency’s intellect.”
Twilight frowned and looked towards the door. “She didn’t tell me anything about that! Where is she? We need to—”
Celestia laughed and gave her former student a hug. “Twilight, relax. Let’s adjourn to the scrying chamber in my room and watch the test unfold.”
Twilight took a deep breath then returned the hug. “Alright, but if we go to war over one of Luna’s pranks, I get to slap her!”
“A fair arrangement. Now, lets see if all of this has been for something, or nothing.”
Tractor Pull - 20th of Lunerdusk, 08 EoH
Falcon’s Hold, West Bloomfield - Equestria
Crusader’s radio crackled, emitting an ear-piercing burst of static. “Swordbreaker, this is Command. Start your engines.”
Bunker nodded down to Trac. “You heard them.”
Trac nodded and began the six step process to start Crusader’s reactor and power up the drive system. The moment his hoof pressed down on the ignition switch a loud click echoed from deep within the tank. Milliseconds later a soft hum began to build up as the engine’s turbine began to spin up.
“Uhhhh, that’s not right,” all three ponies said as one.
Trac turned his attention to the boiler’s gauges, not noticing the Harmonic Stability gauge slowly twitch to life and display a full charge.
“Where’s the rumble?” Thunder glanced down at the deck beneath him with an uneasy frown. “You’d better not be melting down…”
Bunker picked up her radio. “Command, this is Crusader. Our engine sounds wrong, we suspect there may be a malfunction.”
“This is Command. Standby, Crusader,” a mare’s voice said calmly.
The three sat in the tank, glancing up at the hatch as Crusader quietly spun up, clicked, and maintained a consistent quiet hum. No rumbling, no groans, no tank-shaking vibrations. Only the quiet hum of the arcane boiler.
“Crusader? We read you as functioning within normal operating tolerances,” Command reported.
Trac shook his head. “No way, I don’t buy it! I refuse to drive this thing. I’m shutting her down.”
Bunker quickly pressed down on the transmit button. “Command, my driver refuses to drive unless we’re given an explanation.”
A few quiet second passed before the mare spoke again. “Crusader, your tank was refurbished last week. You were to read the full report out to your crew. According to the record, Your boiler’s crystal was not properly aligned and your turbine wasn’t properly balanced. These problems have been fixed. The sound your hearing is how a Bronco is supposed to sound. Command over and out.”
Bunker hung the radio up on its hook and looked down at Trac. “Satisfied?”
Trac nodded sheepishly. “Well… Um, I mean Crusader does sound like it’s not in pain anymore.”
“Yeah, now that I think about it this is how an engine is supposed to sound,” Bunker admitted with a blush.
Thunder closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Flim-Flam Co. They bought these from Flim-Flam Co,” he moaned.
Trac shook his head. “No way. The Princesses wouldn’t ever contract them. So it’s worse. Flim-Flam Co’s QA policies are spreading.”
“Swordbreaker this is command,” the radio interrupted. “Commence exercise.”
Trac grit his teeth and gripped the control levers, ready to move as soon as Bunker gave the order. As soon as we leave the lot they will fire… I can’t see them, but they had time to dig in and camouflage. We could have up to sixty tanks with line of fire to the end of the parking lot.
The radio crackled again. “Swordbreaker, this is Oddball. We rank number one and will be commanding this operation. Geomancers, prepare to erect the wall. All lances, the second that cover pops up, roll out.”
Bunker grabbed her radio and flicked over to the squad channel. “Halberd, Crashy, we’re going into a triangular formation. I’ll go down the slot, Halberd on the left flank, Crashy on the right flank. Keep it tight and don’t break it up till I give the word.”
“Halberd here. Acknowledged.”
“Crashy hears you, Crusader. As soon as I got the barrier up we’ll be on your right.”
“This is Oddball, Geos, GO!”
Thirty slabs of stone rose from the earth in near-unison creating forest of stone. Not a wall. No two slabs were close to one another, let alone lined up to form a wall.
“BUCK!” Oddball’s engine roared as its driver gunned the engine, screeching towards the field of stone. “We don't have a second shot, surprise is key, ignore the piss poor coordination go, go, go!”
Trac growled and threw Crusader into high gear, charging into the stone forest. Halberd and Crashy remained still for a split-second before rolling out, falling into formation on Crusader’s wings.
The three tanks charged the scattered barriers. The sound of fifty guns thundered. The fury of Tartarus raced to meet them.
Swordbreaker hit the barrier field one second ahead of the bombardment. As the thirty tanks swerved around and slipped between the barricades in search of a place to begin their routes Meteor’s attack fell from the heavens. A rain of shells poured down, one after another. Each of the fifty tanks firing slightly after another. Constant fire arced up and over the hills from the treeline to reduce the starting point to a smoldering crater.
The barricades were useless. Every shell plunged downwards, threatening to pierce through turrets and engine decks alike. Swordbreaker’s numbers should have dropped like flies.
Shells fell in strain line paths, only to twist-midair and slide along new routes, hitting the ground and exploding with flashes of fire and showers of earth. The Broncos were caught in the middle of the bombardment, too worried about their headings to pay attention to the ripples of dim prismatic light occasionally popping into existence around ten of the tanks.
Crusader’s Harmonic Stability gauge dropped down and down with each hit. A small thing Trac didn’t notice due to the chaos all around him. The radio cracked and popped with curses, screams as shock waves threw crew out of their seats, and the constant gut punches from the high explosive shells. Shells which simply slid off target every time they approached Crusader’s hull.
Unfortunately, not every Bronco had a Harmonic Resonance Field. Tank after tank was consumed by pink sparks, each disabled vehicle forming obstacles for the others, trapping Swordbreaker in a stone an iron prison and deadly rain.
Trac swerved around a Bronco and at last found a way through the madness. He jammed the sticks forward and Crusader raced towards the opening. Crashy turned with Crusader, making it a full six meters before a shell smashed into its turret and sparks danced across its hull.
“Crusader, Crashy’s down. We’ve lost our Geo,” Halberd shouted over the radio.
“Good! They bucked us right in the ear!” Bunker growled. “Trac, do your thing, this team is dead meat!”
Trac nodded and narrowed his eyes as he tuned out everything save from Crusader, the ground ahead, and the route he had planned. Crusader lurched forward, sliding past the final stone barrier, scraping along the granite and leaving a trail of sparks. Trac turned left, following the hills rise to avoid any possible line of sight the enemy might have.
The shells continued to rain down over the battleground’s entrance. Thunder swiveled Crusader’s turret, checking their six for their wingmen. Halberd rolled along on Crusader’s heels, covered in dirt and flecks of stone. Crusader was entirely clean.
Crusader shot across the hillside at top speed leaving an ever-increasing gap between Halberd and itself.
“We’re leaving our wingman in the dust!” Thunder called over the bombardment.
Bunker grit her teeth. “Halberd, ahead full! “
“We are! How in Tartarus are you hitting that speed?”
Trac frowned and glanced down at the speedometer. Eighty-eight?! Crusader’s never gotten past fifty-six before. Celestia’s mane! Is that how screwed up the power plant was?
Trac took a quick breath. “Do we slow?”
“No! Stick to the plan, full throttle. Our team is screwed, we do what we know best.” Bunker leaned into her radio. “Halberd, we’re not slowing down. You’re on your own. Our plan is to follow the riverbed. Good luck.”
“Roger, Crusader.”
Bunker took a deep breath and complied with her secret orders. Her hoof reached for the sensor suite and flicked it on. A small crystal screen glowed as mana flowed into it, giving Bunker a view of Crusader from above, as well as an abstract map of blue and red dots.
Crusader raced across the planes, turning towards the enemy and cresting a hill. Normally Crusader hopped a few centimeters when cresting. This time it jumped a full three meters.
Red lights flicked on in the cockpit as Crusader became airborne. Trac caught sight of one light reading “inertial dampening active” before Crusader slammed into the ground with a metallic thud… And no impact whatsoever for its crew.
Trac frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?! How does ANY set of shocks—”
A bush moved, flung aside as an enemy Bronco broke concealment to finish off what had to have been an immobilized Crusader. But Crusader kept rolling, its engine humming almost melodically.
“Hostile, three-o'clock!” Bunker shouted.
Thunder swiveled the turret and fired. The movement was smooth, swift, and surprisingly accurate. The shell smashed into the Bronco’s side, arcane sparks flying across its hull as it slid to a stop. Trac swerved left, steering around the downed tank before correcting Crusader’s course.
Thunder’s wings flared beneath his jacket, nearly pushing the jacket’s hem into the auto loaders. “WOAH! That was so smooth! I almost missed. If I hadn’t fired on reflex when the sight—”
“Enemy, four-o'clock!” Bunker warned.
Trac turned, used to having to change course to help Thunder bring the barrel on target quickly. Thunder rotated and fired, the shot going wide thanks to Trac’s course change. The enemy fired back, their shell screamed over the grassy plains towards Crusader’s nose, only to be shunted aside by the Harmonics.
A plume of earth erupted behind Crusader as the shell exploded. Thunder spun the turret onto target and fired. Sparks blanketed the enemy tank and Thunder shook his head in disbelief.
Thunder laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. The gun is so fluid now! Trac, don’t steer me on target. Keep us moving towards the canyon.”
Trac nodded and turned right to avoid a deep gash in the ground ahead. Crusader almost nimbly zipped around the obstacle with no groaning or complaining. It was Trac’s turn to shake his head, mouth agape. “New systems my ass, this is a new tank! This is NOT a Bronco!”
Bunker winced. “It’s a Bronco, Specialist.”
Trac’s eyes widened as he was referred to by rank. Oh shit! Something classified is going on…
The radio crackled to life as Crusader jumped another hilltop. “Swordbreaker, this is Oddball. We’ve lost two-thirds of our group. We have two geos remaining. Stick to the plan.”
A new voice crackled to life on the radio. “Swordbreaker, this is The Monarch. The enemy is using a pincer formation. Watch the east and west! Jet Stream, prepare to fire east. No one can defeat The Mighty MONARCH!”
Bunker flicked the radio over to the team channel. “Roger that. Is Halberd still active?”
“Halberd is down. The bombardment got them.”
Bunker bit her lip. “Guys, one to ten. How confident are you that with the tweaked systems we can do some real damage?”
“Completely,” Thunder said.
“I could run circles around a Bronco in this thi— Uh, Crusader,” Trac nodded to himself.
Bunker nodded and turned her attention back to the radio. “This is Crusader. Everyone head to the north-east. We’re going to buy you some breathing room.”
“Roger that, Crusader. Swordbreaker, move for the window,” Oddball ordered.
Bunker glanced at her scrying mirror. “Trac, divert east and get ready for close quarters.”
Trac raised an eyebrow, but turned eastwards. “What about the plan?”
“We let Halberd down. This is a team match now. We’re going to make up for being a dick.”
Thunder nodded. “Understood.”
Crusader raced towards a thin stand of trees. Despite being only a few meters thick, the birch trees blocked all view of anything on the other side.
Six red boxes slid into view on Bunker’s monitor. “Six contacts at twelve-o’clock!”
Thunder frowned. “How are you— Wait, can we run that detection thingie?”
“Yes! Fire at three degrees, elevation minus one!”
Thunder twitched the barrel carefully into place and fired. Crusader’s shell blasted through the trees, punching a hole through several trees before exploding.
“Give them flak, shred those trees. Make noise. We’re here to draw aggro!”
Trac grit his teeth and scanned the terrain ahead, quickly coming up with a route to run along. It’s way harder when you can't see the—
Crusader’s flak cannons roared, shredding the thin stand of timber in mere seconds. Crusader vanished inside its own flack cloud a second later. This time the shimmering prismatic shield didn’t go unnoticed.
Trac’s jaw dropped. “We have a Celestia-damned WARD SYSTEM?!” That stuff is only found on battleships and palaces! How did we get it in a tank?
Bunker shook her head. “No, we have a Twilight-blessed ward. It should have been there the whole time. Keep an eye on the Harmonic Stability gauge. If it gets under twenty we lose the shield.”
Trac glanced at the gauge. It read forty-one, and was dropping fast. “It hates this flak!”
Crusader burst through the other side of the cloud, emerging almost atop the six enemy Broncos. Three of the enemy gunners had excellent reaction times, firing the instant Crusader became visible.
The Harmonic system deflected their shots, each shell taking another eight percent of the ward’s power. The gauge dipped under twenty. A high-pitched alarm began to screech within Crusader’s hull.
Trac didn’t need to be told what the alarm meant. He spun Crusader to the right, racing along the enemy’s front line, a mere twenty meters separating them from the enemy. Thunder spun the turret clockwise and opened up with the flak cannons again, sweeping a line across the enemy formation.
Crusader’s faster sprint threw off his timing, and the line swept across only two of the enemy. The remaining Broncos rotated their turrets, preparing to fire. Trac felt their counterattack in his guts and spun Crusader to the left. Four cannons thundered. Four shots went wide.
Thunder narrowed his eyes and brought Crusader’s gun back online. The main cannon took out one enemy, and another burst from the flak brought down the remaining three.
Trac let out a breath he didn’t know he had held. “Buck me, that was close!”
Bunker’s eyes remained glued to her screen. “That lance was the vanguard. Twelve incoming, seven-o’clock!”
Trac nodded and threw crusader into reverse, sparing a second to glance at the Harmonics gauge. Nineteen… Good, it recharges. But slowly. Got it, don’t rely on the shield.
Thunder brought the gun to face seven, and spared a second to check the auto-loaders feed. “We’ve got thirty shells remaining, Bunker. How many tanks do we take on here?”
“We fight till we’re down to three shells.”
Twelve Bronco’s engines roared in unison as they crested the hill behind Crusader. They rode in formation, a wedge with four tanks on each arm, and a bar of four at the rear of the wedge. A wall and archers.
Thunder winced as he saw the battle-formation. “This is it!”
Bunker closed her eyes. “We needed wingmen…”
Trac pulled one stick towards himself, directing Crusader into a serpentine path.
Thunder fired the main gun. His shot hit the left lead tank, covering it with bright sparks. One of the tanks in the bar collided with it a second later, but that was hardly enough. Crusader’s flack cannons chattering was drowned out as all ten remaining tanks fired.
Four shells went wide, flying past Crusader’s flanks. Two slid off target, shunted aside by the Harmonics before the shield collapsed. Two detonated in the clouds of flak Crusader spit at the enemy in defiance. The other two found their target.
One shell hit Crusader’s rear-left drive sprocket, the other burst against the turret. The cabin lights went dead as Crusader’s systems shutdown, throwing everyone against their seat belts as it lurched to a sudden stop.
Bunker smiled bitterly and sighed to herself. “Well, we tried.”
Trac sighed. “Yeah, we went down too early to win. What was the Princess thinking? Changing this from a battle-royal to a skirmish? Was that some type of joke?”
Thunder’s hooves remained on the flak’s trigger, a smile splitting his face ear to ear. “Guys…”
Bunker looked up from her console. “What?”
“They are passing us. Look out a window.”
Trac swiveled one of the driver’s periscopes, searching for the enemy. The remaining Broncos rolled past the disabled Crusader. Trac couldn’t help but smile as the six tanks rolled by.
They weren't the enemy, they were his brothers in arms. This was all a game, and Trac felt proud that the weakest of his battalion could crush techno-arcanly superior forces.
They may not have been Equestria’s finest crews, but they had a tanks’ true weapon on their side. Teamwork. Trac leaned back against his seat. That was Princess Luna’s point, wasn’t it? A harsh lesson on teamwork. She saw these games were ignoring the most critical factor of tank combat and wanted to remind crews like us to not get a swollen ego, and remind everyone else that individual skill isn’t the most important thing in a team effort.
Not bad for someone whose been gone for a thousand years. No wonder she was incharge of the military back in the old days.
Bunker watched the tanks drive by through her own periscope. “What about them?”
Thunder’s smile widened to its largest possible size. “There were six.”
Trac blinked as what Thunder really meant finally clicked. “Wait, then you took out half of them?!”
Thunder began to giggle manically. “This turret is AMAZING! It’s so smooth and fluid; it’s almost like firing a bolter! I can just paint an area with flak, they all drove into the cloud I made and I saw sparks! That counted! I thought it would just annoy them, but it counted!”
Thunder’s grin spread to Bunker and Trac. Bunker reached into to her pocket and whipped out her notebook. “Six here, six before, then those two driving here…”
Bunker scribbled in her notes, checking her math several times. Trac unbuckled and walked over to the bottom of the turret.
“There’s no way we did it. Someone must still be running and—”
Crusader’s lights flicked back on. The turbine clicked and began to spin back up. The radio crackled and a mare’s voice filled the cabin. A voice everypony knew.
“The game is over,” Princess Luna informed. “The purpose my sister organized these games for is a noble one, but I found fault with the message her tournament was sending the troops. Swordbreaker lasted for twenty-two minutes against a properly organized force.
“Individual skill is important, and ensuring our best train our leaders is the key to a properly functional military. But make no mistake, individual skill is NOT our best weapon. Teamwork is. While much has changed since I was in command of our military, that much is still true.
“It is time Swordbreaker knew the truth. Meteor Hammer was briefed on this lesson three days ago and was acting under the direction of Colonel Commander Gale Force with my full authority to provide a most humiliating defeat. I have always believed that a warrior’s true skill and character shines the brightest when they are in a no-win situation. Our performance under the conditions I have created today do not invalidate my sister’s testing, they enhance it. A fact I mention because I know you were watching today’s match, Tia.
“This changes nothing, other than making the winner stand out clearly among the rest of these fine warriors. There we are. Now they’ll understand why I changed— Huh? Oh. Yes. Sorry!”
The radio went silent with a click.
Trac sputtered. His heart skipped a beat. “THE PRINCESSES WERE WATCHING?! I would have done so much better if I knew they were watching! I could have driven around that flak-cloud and then our shields would have let us take that battle-line!”
Bunker nodded, her face burning red. “They saw me abandon our wingmen… And the clusterbuck of a start…”
Thunder smiled again. “They saw me go full badflank and take out twelve opponents!”
The radio crackled and Gale Force’s voice came through the speaker. “All forces, return to base for debriefing. The winner of this tournament will be announced formally at a ceremony on Moonsday. If you won you’ll be contacted shortly for a special debriefing.”
Trac turned and walked slowly back to the driver’s seat, dropping heavily into it. His hooves gripped the control levers. Crusader began to turn around to return to base. The radio crackled.
“Crusader, this is Commander Gale Force. Your final score is fifty-three kills to four deaths. You rank third for best kills to death ratio. Your maneuverability score is the highest in the battalion. Crusader’s command score places eighth in the battalion. Over all your score puts you in third place. Well done.”
Bunker, Thunder, and Trac shared a look of confusion.
Trac tilted his head. “But… Third isn’t first?”
Thunder nodded. “Yeah.”
Bunker picked up the radio and pressed down the transmit button. “Sir, this is Sergeant Bunker Bunny of Crusader. With all due respect, third place is not first place, sir. I was under the impression that the winner was to be contacted.”
“That’s exactly what I am doing, Sargent,” the Colonel said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice.
“But… Third?” Bunker asked, staring at the radio in shock.
Trac and Thunder’s eyes joined his commander’s in staring at the radio.
“Yes. Recall her Majesty's comment on character shining brightly? While you did leave your wingman behind, given Crusader’s greater speed and the chaos of the bombardment, that is understandable if not forgivable. You have been selected as the winner because you chose to sacrifice yourself to allow your teammates a chance at victory.
“If this had been real war, I would be issuing the three of you posthumous commendations for valor. Minor commendations, but commendations nonetheless. In light of that, the Princess has decided that victory should be awarded to you. Remain where you are. I am on the way. As is your trainee.”
Trac’s eyes widened as Bunker and Thunder erupted into cheers.
Trainee… We’re responsible for a whole future generation now. I’ve got to make the rest of my time in the military as perfect as I can. It’s an ethical responsibility.
“Trac! We did it!” Thunder squealed as he wiggled out of the gunner’s seat.
Thunder wrapped his forelegs around Trac.
I never thought we would win. In fact, we shouldn’t have won! The Princess fudged it. I mean… For good reasons? But… Oh, Celestia… If I buck this up, it’s not just a few people who could get hurt. We could lose a whole city if I train them poorly.
Visions of possible futures flooded Trac’s mind, and the weight of possible worlds forced tears from his eyes.
Bunker smiled as she saw the tears, thinking they came from a place of joy. “If dad hadn’t push-upped all my tears out by my fifteenth birthday, I’d be crying too. We did it! The Princess doesn’t think I’m a coward, and we did it!”
Trac shook his head. “N— No! I’m not—” He paused, taking a deep breath. “N— Nevermind. It’s nothing. Just… If I don’t do something right with this, tell me immediately, okay? I’m not a professional soldier. I’m part-time. I shouldn’t be here.”
Thunder frowned and let go of Trac. “What? You are too professional. You’re paid to do this. You’ve got extra free-time. So what? You still fight with us.”
Bunker nodded and slipped out of her seat to lay her clockwork hoof on Trac’s shoulder. “Relax. You’re as well trained as the rest of us. We wouldn’t be here without you. Don’t think you’re not a real part of the team because you don’t live on base.”
Trac looked back and forth between Bunker and Thunder for several seconds. “You— You guys don’t— But a lot of guards look down on the reserves.”
Thunder nodded. “Yeah. They’re jerks. Everywhere has jerks. Don’t let them get to you. I was upset at being short for years because of jerks. Buck, jerks!”
Bunker snickered. “Don’t buck jerks. Bucking is nice. Instead, force jerks into permanent chastity. That’s what I did!”
Thunker snorted as he held in a laugh. “That’s right, you got expelled for that.”
Trac frowned. “Um, what am I missing?”
“I locked a chastity belt on a stallion in high school. He was bullying my little bro,” Bunker said with a proud smile.
Thunder giggled and gave his sister an appreciative look. “Then she used a spell to weld it on.”
Trac raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you mean shut?”
“No. On. I fused it to his skin. That’s why I was expelled. Anyways, the point is you’re a soldier and a damn good one. If I catch you thinking you're not really a part of my team again—” Bunker gave Trac a playful punch on his shoulder. “I’ll punch you into next week. Understood?”
Trac looked at his friends and smiled. “Thanks, guys.”
The rumble of a combustion engine interrupted Trac’s thoughts as a tank approached Crusader then drew alongside.
Bunker gave Trac one more sympathetic look, noting his tearstained eyes. “Well, this is it… You want to stay inside, Trac? We can say you passed out form excite—”
Trac shook his head and quickly wiped his eyes dry. “No… No. I’ll be okay.”
Thunder gave Trac a quick kiss on the lips before turning around and climbing up the ladder to the hatch. Bunker followed immediately behind the tiny pegasus, leaving Trac behind. Trac took two seconds to catch his breath, straighten his uniform, blink his eyes clean, and then followed them up the ladder.
As Trac’s head cleared the hatch, he frowned. The vehicle which had pulled alongside them was a small, squat, eight wheeled mobile command post. Not exactly the sort of vehicle a noble would be ferried out to the field to meet someone in.
Crusader’s crew disembarked and stood at the side of their tank, backs to the track. The three immediately stood at attention. The mobile command vehicle’s rear ramp hummed as its hydraulics lowered it gently to the ground. Hoofsteps echoed as Colonel Gale Force disembarked and walked to a spot in front of the three soldiers.
Bunker raised her hoof in a salute, her crew following along a split-second later. A bit too shocked at their victory to follow proper protocol.
The Colonel returned their salute, then looked Bunker in her eyes and chewed on his cigar for a moment. “Master Sergeant Bunker Bunny—”
Bunker’s eyes widened at the rank. Two above a Staff Sergeant. Far more than she had been expecting.
Gale Force turned to look Thunder in the eye. “— Staff Sergeant Thunder Charge—”
Thunder’s wings flared under his jacket. “T-two sir?”
“Two. Political reasons require the lowest ranked amongst you be a sergeant,” the base commander confirmed with a nod before turning to Trac. “Sergeant Tractor Pull. The three of you are hereby officially appointed as the personal training crew of our newest recruit.
“The Princess’s orders for your assignment are crystal clear. Your trainee is to be given no special treatment. You will not use her title save for cases of emergency like war. During such times and ONLY such times her noble rank will outweigh her military position.
“You are to protect her at all costs. Not only from potential enemy action, but from occupational accidents and mishaps with equipment. She’s fresh from basic training and will need to acclimate. Aside from that, she is to be treated like any other soldier in your battalion.
“One last detail. Sergeant Pull, we will respect your reserve status and enrollment within an institute of higher learning. However, you will be expected to show up on any day of the week special training is arranged for. We will give you advanced warning, and our college will be informed to excuse your absence for national security reasons. Are we clear?”
The three snapped a salute. “Sir. Yes, sir!”
The firmness of their voices made it clear they understood perfectly. Gale Force’s eyes glowed with pride.
“Outstanding!” Gale turned towards the mobile headquarters ramp. “Private, disembark the vehicle and say hello to your instructors.”
Heavy yet graceful hoof-falls clinked against the metal ramp. A towering unicorn’s shadow slid across the ramp, then the ground. Then she rounded the corner, coming into full view.
Dark blue fur. A long slender horn. Green tinged eyes. Large, elegant, graceful wings. A mane and tail which rippled and shimmered like the night sky.
Princess Luna disembarked and walked over to Bunker, Trac, and Thunder, giving them a salute and a smile. “So, I hear you’re the best tank crew trainer’s we’ve got.”
None of the three ponies standing before their princess had ever seen an alicorn before. Much less been within a hundred kilometers of the beings who moved the sun and moon across the heavens.
Thunder’s jacket tented as his wings opened all the way in panic. The little stallion’s face rapidly shifted between awestruck and confused. “Um— Uh— Well— Maybe?!”
Trac stared at the Princess of the Night, his eyes bugging out of his head, grateful that his scream of abject terror had remained internal. Even as he was horrified, his reaction to meeting a Princess was to completely lock up and stand as stiff as an iron rod.
I’M TRAINING A PRINCESS?! HELP! SOMEPONY HELP! THINGS CANNOT POSSIBLY GET WORSE! THE SLIGHTEST SCREW-UP AND IT WILL BE MY JOB, AND MY FUTURE JOBS! EVERYONE IN THE KINGDOM WILL KNOW I BUCKED UP A PRINCESS’S TRAINING! HELP!
Bunker’s mouth pulled into a wide smile. Her left ear flopped down. Her right ear perked up. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Bunker’s eyes rolled back, and she went limp, face-planting into the ground.
Trac winced. Aaaaaaaand Bunker’s first impression is fainting in front of the Princess. Things cannot get worse!
Luna smiled softly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Wow. I didn’t believe learning someone who was living on the moon for the last thousand years has no idea how modern warfare is conducted would be so great a shock.”
Trac groaned quietly. She’s a prankster… NOW it can’t get any worse.
Barron Murcrow - 20th of Lunerdusk, 08 EoH
HMS Majesty, West Bloomfield - Equestria
The HMS Majesty floated high above the city of West Bloomfield. She was a sleek ship, all Griffon hunting ships were. Not just any airships could hover near the upper edge of the stratosphere beyond the arcane sight of unicorns and well above the visual limits of even the highest flying pegasus.
Her balloon was armored with ultra-light metals. Her speed and lift greatly enhanced by the “feathers” in her wings and their arcane engines. Her bow sported a colossal ram, shaped something like a griffon’s skull. Talon-like landing gear rested in a folded position beneath her belly. Many blister-like turrets covered her hull.
All in all, the Majesty looked like a three-hundred-meter long sick griffon, dressed for war. Her outside was ugly. Terrifying to a small degree. A true pirate vessel if one ever sailed the skies.
But her inside…
Inside the Majesty was only finery. Exotic hardwoods. Gold leaf. Expensive portraits. Plush carpets. Finely crafted steamworks. All enchanted, of course. Even the silverware was a bit magic.
A true nobleman’s estate, if one ever sailed the skies. Barron Murcrow’s estate, to be precise.
The Barron wasn’t a large griffin by any means. He was quite average. His rusty red plumage and piercing gold eyes marked him as a member of the Red-Tail clan. An ancient noble line.
Barron Murcrow sat at his desk, dressed in a freshly laundered safari outfit. Beige shirt, tan pants, polished brown vambraces, steel talon-caps. The works. All of it new, and all the highest quality.
A knock upon Barron Murcrow’s cabin door took the older griffin’s attention away from cleaning his custom-made Hallux-and-Hallux double-rifle. The Barron set the high-powered hunting rifle down on his mahogany desk and fixed his cold gaze upon the door.
“Enter.” His voice was warm, robust, refined. A proper gentleman’s voice.
The gold door knob turned, and a short hen with an osprey's plumage and absurdly green eyes entered. She was dressed in a formal red-black-and-gold military uniform which rippled as she bowed low.
“Pardon the intrusion, M’Lord. Our changeling friends have confirmed the Equestrian war games are over.”
The Barron’s beak tipped forwards. The griffon equivalent to a smile. “Have they, then? Splendid! Splendid! I take it they no longer have all those pesky weather pegasi whizzing about below us?”
“The skies should be clear within three days, M’Lord. I’m fairly certain they will restore the proving-ground’s natural weather within that time frame. Of course, we could always have some Hawks occupy them while we hunt, incase they don’t clear off soon enough.”
The Barron gave his rifle an affectionate look, tracing the carved silver lock-plates with a talon. “You are quite right. We can face some weather pegasi if we must. It’s those pesky tin-cans with their flak cannons that would have given us a spot of trouble. I expect the ponies will be keeping those in a garage for quite some time. The ghastly things will need to be studied after their little test.”
The hen nodded twice. “Absolutely, M’Lord. The Broncos will be offline for two weeks while their engineers study them. I believe they want to salvage what they can from the project.”
“Two weeks is plenty of time. Though I suppose we might have to upgrade this old girl if we want to hunt again next season.”
“The Majesty will be fine, M’Lord. Her hull and balloon wouldn’t be damaged by flak of that size. But your Hawks and hunting partners would absolutely be shredded by them while you were in the air. I can contact your enchanter and fetch you a quote for shielded hunting jackets for next year, if you wish, M’Lord.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful!” The Barron laughed. “Do get on with that. It would be a shame to let my favorite prey outfox us after centuries of our sport.”
The hen nodded once more. “Yes, M’Lord.”
“Indeed. Well if that will be a— Oh! I nearly forgot to ask. Have any unforeseen circumstances arissen?”
The hen nodded slowly, a worked look forming on her face. “Yes, M'Lord. Our changeling allies also report Princess Luna has chosen this town's fortress to train at.”
Barron Murcrow glowered at his messenger, his eyes holding a look of unmatched cruelty within those yellow orbs. “That’s something you should have opened with. It’s just the tiniest bit important, wouldn’t you think?”
The hen fidgeted nervously with the hem of her jacket. “Well, yes, b— It’s not as dire as you think, M’Lord! She’s still a princess, with royal duties to attend to. They can not be suspended for years at a time to accom—. Training isn’t her job, she won’t be there at all times.”
The barron’s eyes softened. “A fine point. A Princess certainly will not be sleeping at a remote fortress, nor abandoning her public duties. Can you think of a date and time she will be absent? I would hate to make you the one who must deal with the bureaucrats when I require an extension on my hunting permits for this year.”
The hen gulped, beads of cold sweat pooling on her forehead as memories of her last trip to the Office of Fish, Game, and Sport. Weeks of waiting. Extensive background checks. Being routed between two offices in two different cities. Cold, drafty, lice-infested rooms in which applicants were required to stay for the duration of the application process.
Hunting permits were not something a High King could ban. Not while keeping their head attached to their shoulders. Although, if the currently reigning High King disliked the Greatest Game, they could make getting the permits a living hell. Of course, most nobles didn’t care what their servants had to endure to perform tasks in their name, as was their ancient legal right since time immemorial.
“The princess will be required to make a public appearance at Canterlot for the upcoming Zebrican Ambassador’s visit five days from now, sir. Furthermore, I have confirmation that she will not be sleeping there and will be hosting the Lunar court every other weekday, starting with Moonsday.”
The Barron nodded to himself and opened one of his desk drawers, retrieving his Letter of Marque and hunting permits. “Five days hence? I do hope we will not have to return home and make the fish and game department happy with fresh permits. I've been postponing this hunt for long enough.”
He scanned the documents for a few moments then dipped his beak forwards again. “Ah! Five days will be acceptable, it is before the end of the season. Back to the bridge with you, young miss. Let me know the moment the skies are clear so I can dispatch my scouts for the hunt on the fifth at say, ten in the evening. I feel like some nighttime adventure, dont you? Oh, and do make certain every one of my Hawks are ready. Nothing spoils a hunt quite like a poor start.”
“Yes, M’Lord.” The hen bowed once more and left the cabin, closing the door behind her.
“Well then, I suppose I had best get properly ready.” Barron Murcrow stood up from his desk and crossed his caben to his hatstand.
Barron Murcrow paused along the way to admire his taxidermied-earth-pony mounted to the wall above a portrait of his grandfather. Perhaps this year he would at last find another tan earth pony so the portrait could be framed on either side with an impressive trophy stallion.
The Barron plucked a pith helmet from the stand, exhaled on the bronze family crest fixed to its font to give it a quick polish on his sleeve, and smiled. “Tallyho!”