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// Weighted words 
// Story: Lament and an emerald tide 
// by Lord_Draigo 
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Princess Celestia crosses another name off her checklist of ‘distant relatives who i’ve never really liked’ as Blueblood saunters out of the throneroom, given command over a bunch of conscripts and orders to the front. With any luck he’ll be dead in the week, or worst case scenario, he’s wounded enough that he can’t go to the fight, but not wounded enough to be out of Celestia’s hair. As the doors close behind the unicorn, Celestia gets up from her throne. While she’s by no means fat, the stress eating of late hasn’t been kind to her figure, surprising, since it’s only been approximately a week.

She’d invited the commander of all the imperial forces that have landed in her lands to dinner for that evening, if only to be a gracious host. Normally this would be a boring diplomatic interaction, but for Celestia, these meetings are as tense as it gets, one slip up and Equestria may be left to the greenskins. She is well aware that among the space marines, several factions want to stop helping the ponies, with their ideas ranging from leaving to scouring the whole world of life from space. The idea of something else having that kind of power scares celestia. 

A pair of space marines stand at attention outside the door to the guest chambers the chapter master had been given, in spite of her great height compared to ponies, Celestia still has to cock her head upwards slightly to look the giants in the eyes. The two gold-helmeted marines step aside to allow Celestia entry at some inaudible order. Celestia opens the doors with her magic. Her gilded horseshoes click on the marble floor as she enters. The chamber, with its high ceilings and rapidly constructed furniture is the one most suited to the unusual form of a space marine. The giant is looking over some documents next to the fireplace. His helmet lays to the side on a small table, the ornate, crested helm oddly reminiscent of the one Luna had found all those years ago. He glances up from the documents, which on closer inspection look to be maps and orders. He nods at Celestia.

“I’m presuming that you’re here to escort me to dinner, Celestia?” The Space marine stands, his gilded armor reflecting a hundred flicking facets onto the room from the fireplace. At one hip, he bears an ornate blade, the metal radiating an almost unearthly blue glow. The other hip bears some strange pistol, which those who’d seen it on the field say reduced all it struck to cinders and slag. She doubts that, it’s not like a non-pony can take the power of a strong unicorn and can it for later, Celestia of all ponies knows that, she’s tried and failed.

“Yes, if you are available right now, lord Phoros.”

“I currently have nothing to be doing right now, I just dispatched my orders for the day and my daily prayers are concluded.” He gestures to a string of prayer beads dangling from his wrist. His speech is stilted, as if he were getting used to a language he hadn’t spoken in many a year. Under that growls an elegant accent, as if he were used to speaking of art and items of beauty rather than the war that he is waging with brutal efficiency. His face has elegant lines, with a few deep scars running through them. Lord Phoros steps forward and begins making his way to the dining chamber, standing a little taller than the average space marine. His armor shimmers a little, making it apparent he has some sort of shield around him. Celestia found she had to trot to keep up with the giant as he speaks

“So, how is the conscription program going?” He glances down at celestia, cocking an eyebrow as he keeps going down the hallway.

“Oh, it’s going as well as we can expect. We have enough equipment in reserve to outfit ten percent of our total population. We hope the reinforcements will help with holding the lines as much as they can.” She tries to keep calm, hoping not to betray the fact that she has not felt worry to this degree in nearly a millennium. Less worry for victory in this conflict, but worry that her direct intercession may prove needed.

“I see, what’s the morale of your...ponies I believe is the term? I’m still slightly rusty in my low Gothic. From what I’ve heard, they’re holding up very well ” He nods as he passes one of his marines, who’s reading some sort of digital readout, his armor bears the rust-red markings of the space marine technicians. This particular one is setting up some sort of communications device on a balcony, aided by those unnerving half-human half-machines that always accompany those marines.

“Well, I think they’re in good spirits. It takes a lot to break the spirit of Equestria, and the nature of the foe really hasn’t really been made known to the public. They’re unaware of both the nature of the foe and their real strength.” She smiles as several administrative ponies pass, discussing the logistics of some of the rail lines being built to the front, and the massive size of the lines being made for the death korps.

“Ah, and what do they think of the imperium’s forces? From what I can tell, they like the astartes and find the Kriegsmen terrifying.” he stands at the door to the dining hall, which is opened by two unseen servants.

“your evaluation is accurate,  although they're less terrified of the kriegers, and more unsettled, I take it that most have that response to them? The political officers attached seem much more...personable I'd say?” she trots into the dining room, followed by the the Space marine, she looks over the spread, largely composed of fine vegetation and bread products from all across Equestria, apart from the parts which lie under the hold of the invaders of course.

“One could say that, although in most guard regiments, the commissars are actually far less pleasant than general troops. In the Death Korps, their job is to convince them to retreat when needed rather than penalize them when they retreat when unneeded. The kriegsmen, of course, simply don’t do that.” He takes a seat in a chair brought from the ships in orbit for him. The marine has a place set for him, in spite of the fact that the marines have not been seen eating since they arrived. Celestia knows that, but courtesy should always be extended for valuable guests.

“Really?” Celestia cocks her head, shed just assumed they were just stoics, a lot of warriors are. But if they’re genuinely fearless… that's another can of worms. “so, are they some sort of special martial order then?”

“well, they're a regiment of the guard, their homeworld is a bombed-out wasteland, and their only goal in life is to die in the name of the God-Emperor.” He casually describes the kriegers as if they’re the most normal thing in the world.

“Interesting. So, I never caught it, but why are you here, any ways, it just seems odd that I’ve never seen another being like you come from the sky in my life, and I've been around for quite a long time.” she eyes up the marine, who adjusts a decoration on his gilded armor.

“I take it you mean why are we in this area of space? In that case, we’ve been on a penitent crusade for quite a long time, I don’t honestly know where one would begin on that. Regardless, we arrived at the edge of your system and we noticed the greenskins encroaching on the world. We assumed you were a human world in need, and thus we engaged under that belief. Until we landed on the planet, we didn’t know you weren’t…” He pauses, unsure how to proceed.

“I understand, many of my advisors are wary of your kind as well.” Celestia lifts a wine glass to her lips with her horn, the marine watches, the golden light reflecting in his eyes.

“My own share that sentiment, although several have expressed a desire to simply destroy this world and call it a day. I feel there’s potential for you equines, and to that end I hope our military cooperation can continue until the greenskin menace is removed.” His statement, while topical, also serves to illustrate that he could have this world scoured should he so choose. In one of the few times in her life, Celestia feels worried that she can’t stand against the threats to Equestria, and this time, the plucky band from ponyville couldn’t do anything to help.

“How long do you believe that might take?” She flicks her eyes over him as the marine thinks, stroking his scarred chin for a moment.

“The problem is that greenskins are unpredictable. If their boss is a dumb one, it will be a few weeks, if he’s intelligent, it could take years.” The uncertainty does not sit well with the sovereign, considering the sword of damocles hanging above the whole matter. 

“I see, now, We’ve failed to mention this prior, but...recent events have compelled me to mention this. There is the distinct possibility that there are changeling infiltrators among equestrian society.” Those recent events would be Fluttershy vanishing in trottingham and reappearing in ponyville, and acting odd. Celestia hasn’t sent somepony to confront them yet, but she’s getting to that point. 

“Changelings?” The space marine wrinkles his nose, new complications were never good.

“Yes, they’ve been a blight on this world for millennia. Any attempts to purge them lead them to hiding in plain sight, usually they impersonate missing or dead ponies, sometimes even those they find on a battlefield. They look like giant insects. If you do see one, make sure your troops know to get rid of them.” Perhaps if she plays her cards right, an old thorn in the side can be removed.

“I see, what are those recent events?” He sips his wine, one of the few things the Marines seem to actually consume.

“We believe the Bearer of the element of Kindness, Fluttershy is being impersonated by one at this juncture.”

“Is there any way to check?” He leans back a little.

“Yes, I’m preparing to send several guards with the magical skill to do so to ponyville, this situation has also made me aware of several other issues facing Equestria.” She leans in, the slightest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Who knows, perhaps this war can be profited from.

Meanwhile, in the gargantuan forge in the ruins of Manehattan, Graknar roars with rage.

“WHAT DO YOUZE GITS MEAN THAT GROMBRIG GOT KRUMPED?!” In his gesticulating, an unfortunate grot is launched through a window, falling hundreds of feet from the top floor of the Rok. The mekboss is festooned with new trophies, namely a cloak of feathers in dozens of shades hanging from his shoulders and a necklace made of many, many horns, a fair number of which look to have been ripped out rather than cut off.

“Well, you see, doze ‘umies had da big boiz with them, and those magic horsies.” The Nob sheepishly looks up at the boss, noting the number of guns aimed at him.

“Zoggin’ ‘ell, did you at least get da stuff?” He’d heard there were some right flash trinkets in the ancient ruins in the forest.

“No, we didn’t even make it there before the ‘umies we-” He’s suddenly silenced by a large wrench crashing into his skull. The boss continues to bash him for a few moments before looking around. He growls some of the most unspeakable profanity before he looks to another nob, this one looking over his dead peer for valuables.

“You, git, Tell the stormboyz itz time to show their worth.” He shakes the wrench at the other ork, who runs to relay the orders to the crack soldiers. The Giant ork sulks back to his throne, sitting upon the pile of scrap and bones with a groan. He’d quite enjoyed Grombrig, it’s hard to get a reliable lieutenant. 

Once the order arrives at the airfield set up on the outskirts of the city, the black-clad stormboyz make their way to their aircraft, jogging roughly in formation. The big, fat engines of the aircraft groan into life, spurting oily black smoke and flames from the tails as the boyz get into the big boxy cargo plane. Once aloft, they consulted their maps, arguing over a low or high drop, eventually agreeing to a low and fast drop before yelling to the pilot to get the craft down to tree level.

The three other aircraft, essentially guns and a cockpit attached to a ludicrous engine scream behind the transport, having been brought in to bomb any forces that might be guarding the loot. Once they reach the rough drop zone, the boyz get ready, opening fuel valves on their jump packs and strapping on their helmets. Once they’re ready, the boyz, who had also gotten masks in imitation of the seemingly infinite discipline of the kriegers, jump from the back of the plane, using their jump packs to soften their fall. All but one of them succeed. The one whose jump pack failed suddenly finds himself rocketing up into the sky, before exploding in a bright orange plume. A few of the orks snigger before getting down to business.

The disciplined orks search through the ruins as the aircraft circle overhead, a dull roar in the distance. Before too long, they come across what they’re looking for, and the leader fires a flare into the air to signal the transport craft to land, which it does, taking out a fair few trees in the attempt. Then the hauling begins as crate after crate of forgotten magical arefacts start being hauled into the belly of the massive aircraft.

Several hundred meters away, obscured in the brush, a group of ponies, kriegers, and commissar Helburk observe, the ponies with growing dread. The commissar looks over to them.

“So, what are those?” He points a gloved finger at the crates.

“T-that would be the old caches of magical weapons. W-we never really thought they were real. B-but seeing this, i-it can’t be good.” The pony, an irregular with a blue coat and a horn stutters through the statement. Not only are the ponies at war, a weapons stash that was thought to be a legend is being stolen from beneath their noses. The Imperials and ponies can’t really do anything against these orks, since they have no heavy weapons to deal with the aircraft.

“Frack, so you’re telling me those are crates of ancient tech that the orks are probably going to reverse engineer?” The commissar looks to the unicorn, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, they’d need unicorns to do so.” The unicorn smiles, seemingly appeased with that idea.

“You are aware that orks like to enslave and exploit any populations they get a hold of, right? In all odds they’ve got thousands of unicorns, and trust me, they can figure out how to coax magic out of them in a useful way.” The unicorn’s smile vanishes as he realizes this.

“Oh, horseapples.” He looks back at the work being done. After several minutes of observation, the crew returns to the forest on the way back to ponyville. They’ve got a serious report to write out once they arrive.