//------------------------------//
// Chapter Seven: Gunpowder and Griffons 
// Story: The World is my Sandbox 
// by PoniesMine 
//------------------------------//

“Our freedoms were born in the ideals of the Enlightenment and the musket fires of a historic revolution.”
-John Boehner

Chapter 7: Gunpowder and Griffons

The two most elevated griffon military strategists, General Garrison, and Bridges stood adjacent to each other, around a circular map table, they were discussing the art of war and particular battle plan strategies. They were in what’s called the ‘war room’, or to be more accurate, a ‘tent’.

The map is as shown:


Both Generals, however, wore they're recently created Officer’s uniform with satisfaction, the material shaded coal-black with serval golden laced buttons spreading vertically along. A matching officer’s cap sits on top.

Situated in the small room, is four Griffon guards with an iron shield and lance at each corner. Each has a small amount of armour covering the essential eras, with the same indistinguishable dark colour as the Generals uniform as an undergarment.

Neither officer can seem to agree on a single tactic, one thing both experienced strategists can concur on is, this war, is helpless. 

At that moment, Present Senatus walks through the tent flaps, wearing a white shirt and a brown overgarment, with a coordinating bowtie.

Both Generals solute they're incoming leader of the nation and stood at perfect attention. 

“At ease,” the President states in a slight British accent. 

Both Generals visually relax.

He eyes them warily, “What’s our current situation?” 

The strategists glance at each other, and answers in impeccable unification, “Awful.”

President Senatus has already had enough of this war, despite the fact it’s only been around a month. Besides the first week, every battle they’ve fought has been an utter massacre. 

The leftmost General, Garrison, continues, “The outcomes have arrived over from our recent battle on the Western front, it was a bloodbath, sustaining 811 casualties,” he indicated to the left triangle, “we have been forced to retreat a couple kilometres back.”

“Reports have also featured that Equestria has sent 100 volunteers.” The other General, Bridges adds.

Garrison gestures to his accomplice, “Right, we currently have 6,000 on the field, it’s estimated around 16,000 enemy troops are currently on the fronts. On the splendid side, we ought to have another 4000 soldiers trained and outfitted with steel weapons and armour with the next few weeks. Another 1000 prepared recruits are ready to set out from this base tomorrow.”

“I, however, question we can hold out that long. Our military simply doesn’t have the necessary training, most had never seen combat in—.” 

The President interrupted, “So basically, we’re at an utter loss. Unless we have some sort of miracle, we’ll be crushed within the following month.”

Both Generals silently nodded, neither can look the President directly in the eyes.

Bridges spoke first, “We should remove the troops currently training, and place them as reinforcements on the battlefield.”

Garrison simply sighs, he didn’t want to pull them from training this early, yet they don’t have much of a choice. “Fortifications are being built along the border, all we can hope now—“

Everygriffon was suddenly interrupted by a tent flapping sound, they all swung towards it. Nobody is supposed to interrupt this private meeting.

There, standing at the front of the tent is a white mare, with a crimson mane and tail. An elegantly crafted matching suit adorns her. What’s really frightening is the unsettling grin she’s currently wearing.   

“Hello, I think I might have a solution to your problem.”

The sudden surprise wears off, the soldiers in the corners rapidly rush to surround her, posting their sharp weapons to directly point at the mare’s face. 

—Earlier— 

“Mate, I don’t give an actual fuck! Just tell me where they are!” I yelled at an infuriating Griffon.

“And I’ll tell you once again, not unless it’s with a price!” She equally exclaimed back.

I rub my brow, every single fucking Griffon asks for my GOD DAMN MONEY. Are they SERIOUSLY that poor? 

“You know what,” I mumbled, “fuck it.” I throw serval gold coins at the stupid Lion-Bird.

She caught them all with practised ease.

“The western front is 1000km that way,” she stated while pointing in the destined destination, then flew off.

You know, I’m really doubling thinking if I should help these guys or not, every single one I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, has been infuriating.

I’m currently in the city of Griffonstone, the Capital of the Griffon Empire. The whole entire place is like God did one massive shit and then stamped on it several times.  No wonder there was an uprising, about fucking time. 

There isn’t a pony that is in sight, so I stick out like a bouncy castle in a backyard, to top that off, I’m currently wearing a suit, and as a result, I get quite a few weird looks. 

I walked around the back of a building, on the outskirts of town, where my Space Car is currently waiting.

—Later—

I landed my car near a wooden fortification, on what I assume, is the Democratic side, as a divergent flag is displayed at the top. 


I hope out on all fours, and stroll myself to the nearest soldier to the entrance of the castle.
He notices me and imminently points his spear at my face.

The griffon growls, “Not another step, pony.”

I roll my eyes, like a spear is threatening. To me, it doesn’t even look like its steel. 

“Listen here, I’m trying to find the leader of this country, think you could help me?” I hopefully asked.

The unnamed Griffon narrows his eyes at me, “For what reason?”

“Well, you guys are obviously having difficulty winning this war. So I thought I’d provide something to help.”

He seems to lessen his stance slightly, but nonetheless, still kept the spear right near my throat, “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that.”

“Not even,” I grabbed a small bag of coins from my saddlebags, and dumped them in front of him, “with an offering?”

He seemed to eye the bag hungrily, wiring his head around, looking for any bystanders. Just as quickly as the bag was dropped, he pointed at a direction and swiped the sack quickly with his claws.   

“120km that way, is a temporary field of tents were the President and Generals are staying,” he then narrowed his eyes at me, “Don’t cause any trouble.” With that, he turned back to his post, staring directly ahead at nothing in particular.

“Thanks for the information,” I placated.

I’m getting closer now, It’s only a matter of time…

—How many more laters are there?—

“OY!”

No response.

“I’m talking to you!”

This is a first, the griffon guard here is not budging a single muscle, not even noticing my presence.

“All I want is to see your leader so I can give him some weapons! Come on mate, I thought you cared about your country?”

He twitched.

I smirked, “Since you're not taking me to him, you are practically throwing away a great opportunity for your country! I will be able to not only help you guys be victorious but also have minimal casualties on your side!

The guard groans, and facepalms, “This is a restricted area.”

Seriously? What is wrong with this guy? ‘Care about my country’ my ass!

I glare at him, “Can you at least notify your superior?” 

If he still ignores me, I’m just going to coercion my way through.

The unnamed griffon eyes me wearily, and sighs, “Alright, but if you move a single muscle, I’ll be forced to use lethal force.”

I roll my eyes. Like you could do anything to me anyway.

“Sure,” I nonchalantly replied.

The soldier marches off, but not without casting one more warning gaze at me. 

And now, I wait.

I wonder how many casualties have been in this civil war so far? I doubt it’ll be much, maybe 10,000 or so? The planet only has a population of around 230 million and hasn’t seen the art of war for an increasingly long time. It makes sense that their armies would pale in comparison to a planet which is constantly exposed to war.

I wonder what the AI will do when I’m away, after all, I did assign it to disguise my base as an industrial complex. The natives here would freak out if they saw a futuristic, alien base. 

I’m pulled from my thoughts when all of a sudden, someone addresses me, “I was told that you could aid us in this war, any help would be appreciated.”

I switch my gaze to the griffon speaking to me, he seems to be dressed very similarly to the regular soldier, except he wears no armour, and has an officer’s cap is perched on his head.

“Greetings, my name is Lieutenant Pierce, the commander of this fine platoon,” he welcomes while holding out his claw for a classic handshake (clawshake?).

“My name is Atomic Discharge,” I meet him, “And you were correct in assuming that.”

Pierce shoots me a genuine smile, “So, how will you help us in this war?”

Finally, I’m getting somewhere.

“I want to provide a weapon that has the capacity to kill an entire army, before it even reaches yours,” I informed in simplistic terms.

“Would I be able to see this ‘weapon’?”

I nod, and take hold of one of the Griffon Matchlock Muskets, and give it to him.

I point to the weapon, “It fires a projectile, similar to a crossbow, expect much, much faster, capable of ignoring almost any amour. Imagine having thousands of griffons using this, crushing their entire military.”

His eyes lit up, “Normally I wouldn't do this, but…. If you say what is true about this weapon, it could possibly change the tide of the war.” Lieutenant Pierce starts to mumble to himself, “after all, we are quite desperate.”

Pierce claws me back the musket, and looks at me, “Alright then, follow me,” he waves me forwards, moreover walks to an unknown destination in the tent area.

I trot directly after him, brown tents of varying sizes surround me, this area must be a temporary command region that’s closer to the front lines, this would allow communication between the divisions to be undemanding.  

A few griffons are flying to a fro the area, most likely messengers.

“We’re here,“ my escort states. 

A moderately sized tent, the same style the rest in the area, has a sword bandana at the front. Most likely indicating the main command centre. Normally, after the Renaissance Era in human history, the General’s tent, or some place of importance, wasn’t marked as they could easily have been destroyed.   

Pierce steps to the side of the doorway, waving his claw towards to entrance, “Ladies first.”

I rise a single eyebrow and continue to walk past the tent flaps anyway.

Situated in the small room, is four Griffon guards with an iron shield and lance at each corner. Each has a small amount of armour covering the essential eras, with pitch-black colour as an undergarment.

Three Griffons were in the middle of a conversation about the war, around a circular table, that is, until they notice me. 

I address them, “Hello, I think I might have a solution to your problem.”

Soldiers rapidly rush to surround me, posting their sharp weapons to directly point at my beautiful face. 

At that moment Lieutenant Pierce strolls through the tent, “Back down! Back down! She’s with me.”

The four guards, with a small amount of hesitation, begin to lower their spears. 

The left griffon scolds at Pierce, “What do think you're doing bringing a pony to our base of operations, Lieutenant?!” 

He opens his mouth to respond, however, only a peep is able to escape. So I answer for him, “I’m here because I think I have a resolution to win you the war, a brand new type of weapon.” Pierce nods to this, seemingly out of his daze.

The two right griffons rise their eyebrows, the same one that I responded to beforehand, simply rubs his brow and shakes his head.

“Take her away, we can’t afford—“ he started.

The middle griffon interrupts while holding his claw up, “Give her a chance, any help could determine the results of this war.”

The enlightened griffon moves towards me and holds up a claw, “I’m President Senatus.” 

How many handshakes do I need to do today? It's like I’ve broken my record or something.

Bringing my right hoof up, he curls his claws around it, careful not to scratch, and shakes up and down leisurely. “Atomic. Atomic Discharge,” I introduce.

We relinquish the claw shake, “So, what do you have for us today? I trust you can show us this 'new' weapon?” He asks.

This will be fun, It’ll be amusing to watch their expressions when they view my weapons in action. They will literally be blown away, particularly the enemy, but in the thousands. I’ve only ever seen Renaissance battles in movies, It’ll be awesome to perceive it in real life. The thunder of explosions, the acrid smell of gunfire smoke, entire battle-fields foggy, covered head to toe in blood and bodies. 

I look at him in the eyes, burning from my excitement, “Of course I do, I brought three with me.” I took one of them out of my right saddle bag, slowly rotating it in front of me, “It’s called a gun, this particular type is a matchlock musket, capable of launching a projectile above 200 metres per second, and penetrate almost any armour.”

I gaze up at him, “Imagine having thousands of soldiers with this, they’d be able to demolish entire armies before they even reach you.” I survey the firearm again, “Let me show you how it works.”

I reach back and grab a bullet paper cartridge and lay on the raw earth floor. 

I bring my right foreleg up and use my teeth to bite down on the end of the paper capsule and rip it off. Promptly spitting the remainder from my muzzle to the floor.

Carefully, I pour a small amount of gunpowder on the pan, in addition to concealing the powder by closing the cover over the top. 

I rotate the musket around on a 45-degree angle to gain a clear view of the firing hole, I furthermore pour the rest of the black powder down the muzzle. I then powerfully shove the remaining paper into the barrel, in addition to taking hold of the metal rod located underneath and sliding it out. Plunging the rod straight into the barrel, then compressing it hard to stop the ammunition falling out.

Once I was satisfied, I returned the rod underneath, then grab a small length of match cord, and light it with a piece of flint and steel from my saddle bag. I bring the lit end to my mouth and blow on it several times, moreover inserting the rope in the serpentine.

I nod, and return my gaze to the President, “Here, point this somewhere, and pull the trigger underneath, which is that little rod.” 

I hand— I mean hoof, the gun to President Senatus, and he takes it, eying it sceptically. 

He places his right claw around the trigger system, and the other right near the tip of the barrel, furthermore, aiming it at the back of the tent. 

“Sir, I would not put your left claw so close to the end, and place wooden end against your shoulder,” I highlighted.

He looks at me, then adjusts his talon further back, and places the stock against his shoulder.

The President breaths in and out slowly, little by little, reclining his index claw onto the trigger, until…

BANG!

The serpentine drops down into the pan, causing it to ignite, along with the main propellant. The muzzle erupts in an explosion of fire and smoke, forcing the gun to heavily recoil backwards into the Griffon’s shoulder. Launching the gold projectile from the barrel, into the back tent fabric, erecting a perfectly sized hole. 

And then, a painful scream echoes throughout the area. 

Well, fuck. Someone got hit, should have warned him about that.      

President Senatus looks at the musket, then at the hole, then back to the firearm.

He eagerly stares at me, “I want these,” breathing in and out rapidly, “I want these! A hundred! One thousand! I need this in my army!” 

Senatus surveys the musket once again, and strokes it, “This weapon, will revolutionise war as we know it, and we will be at the forefront.”

Only then is it that I notice the other two griffons, along with the soldiers in the room, all of which portray a mix of amazement, fear, and relief. 

He stares back at me, “What do you want for them? I’ll give you anything.”

I tap my chin in thought, “A small amount of land for one of my bases of operations, and 100 bits per weapon.”

“Deal,” He immediately babbled, “how soon can you deliver them?”

“Tomorrow.” 

He rubbed his claws diabolically, “The enemy won’t know what hit them.”

Wow, that was easier than I expected, guess these guys are pretty desperate.

All the griffons in the room stared wide eye at the President.

——
An already present crack expands to cover the entire length of a statue.
——