//------------------------------//
// Rally and Recover: 1 - Answers 
// Story: Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly 
// by Firesight 
//------------------------------//

Dear readers:

As we conclude one book and begin the next in this magnum opus, the particularly observant and astute might have noted that there was one name missing from the roster of those here for Father’s surgery, and her absence from these accounts was no mere oversight. 

My beloved sister Wind Whistler was not present for her father’s procedure because she was on a very special assignment whose objective only came to fruition this day, during the duel between the Loyalty and Arnau. Her strategic mind was needed to thwart an assassination and coup attempt by Imperial remnants against the Queen, and to that end, she worked with both the EIS and Ravens to gather intelligence and lay a trap for the ringleaders, of which a willing Queen Jeyenne herself was the bait. 

So before we resume the story of the war, let me detail what I can of these events.


—Firefly






The carefully constructed plot was to culminate during the duel, when the Loyalty would be seized by a cadre of carefully trained and selected pony-disguised infiltrators, who would then turn her guns on the watching Queen and her party, killing the bulk of her line and senior officials. 

If possible, they also wished to slay me and Ambassador Kaval—myself for simple vengeance but the Ambassador to ensure that he could not rally the Kingdom afterwards. This would allow a coup to go forward; one that would install a new Emperor in the recently rebuilt Imperial capital of Mosclaw and declare the Gryphon Empire reborn. 

The Arnau would then engage the Loyalty and die heroically trying to avenge the treachery that had taken their ruler, thus becoming a rallying cry for the new regime. Even if Celestia personally intervened and apologized afterwards, that the Queen had died under her care and at the hooves of the ponies would be taken as a grievous betrayal, and a renewed call for war might have resulted.

‘Twas an ambitious plan involving several dozen plotters including some major figures in the Kingdom’s government and military, as well as several hundred carefully recruited underlings, including dozens of unwitting gryphons and ponies turned against their hearts and duty by the use of more advanced mind control gems the now-disbanded Office of Owls had been working on at the end of the war. 

‘Twas a cunning plan, against which an equally cunning counterintelligence operation was needed. And as she alone among the two sides had successfully commanded both pony and gryphon forces during the joint campaign against Dragon Lord Diabla, there was none more qualified for such a task than my sister.

To that end, Tailwind’s surgery was part real, part ruse, meant to coincide with the Queen’s visit and make it look like our attention was elsewhere. Tailwind himself approved of the plan, though he requested his memory be wiped of all knowledge of the plot afterwards so he could not give it away in case the plotters captured him while he lay helpless in bed. 

There was no need, thankfully, as when the plot was triggered, so was my sister’s carefully constructed trap. Their cannons failed to fire and their mind-controlled agents were set free by a special spell that disabled the crystals and their effects, leaving them aware of their instructions and who had sent them but no longer compelled to obey them. This allowed us to identify and arrest the mages who had kept them on their leashes, and from there, unravel the rest of their network.

Undercover PSD agents and pony-disguised Ravens that had been lying in wait then swarmed the bridge and engineering, taking down all targets with few casualties on either side—which methinks ‘twas always a hallmark of my sister’s work whilst on the ground, the Lances and Ravens likewise stormed a series of safehouses throughout Equestria and the Kingdom and captured the ringleaders, who were coordinating their efforts from afar. Those captured locally were then brought before the Queen, where one final fanatic attempted to detonate a crystal bomb on his body, only to find it had been rendered inert. 

Thwarted, he then drew a blade and charged her through the air, only to meet an immovable wall in the form of Ambassador Kaval. My old foe defeated him with contemptuous ease, batting his blows aside with no effort and then taking him down with a single strike. He could have easily slain him, but he, like me, has had enough of killing and will no longer do so unless absolutely necessary. Instead, the final assassin was thrown before the Queen along with his compatriots, who, instead of ordering him slain on the spot, directed that he and his fellow plotters stand trial in the Kingdom. 

‘Twas only then, with her task complete and the Queen safe, that my sister finally was able to visit Father, and the last I saw of her before closing the door to give them privacy was to witness her holding his hoof and crying.





In truth, methinks my explanation of these events does not do it justice, for the careful planning and coordination springing my sister’s trap required. ‘Twas a superb operation to unravel the plot, but I regret that I simply cannot detail it beyond its bare outlines, which is all that is now public. In its place, ‘tis time to renew the retelling of the war, picking up with the aftermath of our escape from Outpost Epsilon.


Signed,



Captain Firefly
Bolt Knight Captain Emeritus
Military History and Tactics Instructor
Equestrian Officer Academy
Canterlot







EAS Loyalty
Airspace over Northern New Yoke Province
350 miles south-southwest of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1620 hours

Our escape from Epsilon did not mean we were out of danger.

Though we quickly outpaced the initial pursuit, my heart dropped when I was informed that due to the circuitous route they had taken getting here, we could not sustain the pace for more than an hour, at which point the main engine crystal would run out of energy. It could be slowly recharged without additional fuel using unicorn magic, but their numbers were few and their power was spent; what little they could spare was nowhere near enough to speed us to safety. 

With the air wing and my remaining effectives under the command of Fell Flight—I had barely a single platoon of forty still fightworthy with the rest wounded or too exhausted to continue—we flew relays to keep the ship moving via wind into the sails, trying to stay ahead of gryphon pursuit even though the best we could manage was an agonizing fourth of our previous escape speed. 

The Airship’s chief engineer, a rather portly but burly Shetland pony named Flash Fix with the accent to match, had been able to coax a little more velocity by rerouting the final dregs of their main armament crystal to the engines, gaining us another thirty miles but disabling the airship’s best guns. Still more precious energy was squeezed from the smaller crystals that powered the lightboats, granting us twenty miles more but at the cost of rendering them useless for escapes.

‘Twas touch and go as gryphon centuries appeared repeatedly and had to be held off, but they were not able to bring the Loyalty or the Vigil down as they lacked the numbers and mages to storm us, perchance because of the losses they suffered at Epsilon. 

Still, ‘twas tense and dangerous for a while as they attempted alternately to damage the sails or suspension cables, and ‘twas not until around 1300 hours when we had gained about two hundred miles from the border that friendly Corps forces appeared to chase off the pursuit and escort us the rest of the way. Fortunately, that escort included naval transports filled with Army unicorns dispatched from the city of Maresk and its attached Army base, Fort Ironheart, to power the engines up at least partially and get us back to Royal Navy base Ursa on the Lunar Sea.

Methinks I was mildly amazed that they knew to expect us and roughly where to look for us, but ‘twould seem that Admiral Coral Torch had arranged it all despite her ire at Captain Shady, having the foresight to guess such assistance would be needed.

Finally safe and under friendly air cover, I stared out the window of the airship’s bridge, my mind awhirl. Before now, I’d been focused on taking down as many gryphons as possible before dying, then about getting everypony on board the Loyalty. Now that the danger had passed, though, ‘twas time to see to my remaining soldiers. And exhausted though I was, I would not rest until I had found each and every one of them.

No longer needing to remain on alert, we were finally able to, if not relax, at least lick our wounds. As I walked among the Epsilon survivors—and I of course made sure to thank the Naval healers profusely for their efforts to save my soldiers—I found myself lingering on two individuals. First was Stormrunner, who I encountered in a borrowed cot, stripped of his armor with a mended spear wound and a heavily bandaged head through which blood was still leaking, staining the white fabric red. 

To my surprise, he was awake and alert, his good left eye turning on me and propping himself up to offer a shaky salute along with Blindside, who I found chatting with him.

“At ease,” I told the pair as I beheld him. “How fare you, Master Sergeant? Will that... scratch... keep you from further action?” I admit I didn’t quite know what else to say.

“Not a chance. ’Tis but an eye, ma’am,” he answered easily, though I noted he turned his head instead of moving his good eye to look at me. “In their great wisdom, the Sun and Moon Goddesses saw fit to grant me a spare. And the good Sergeant here has been discussing with me how she overcame her lack of a working one. ‘Tis my hope I can yet match her feat and return to active duty quickly.”

“‘Twas not easy or instant for me. But perchance with my guidance, it could be accomplished quicker. I’d be more than willing to train you, Master Sergeant,” Blindside offered, but then went downcast, looking at her own wounds and barely mobile wing. “Particularly since ‘twould seem I am out of action myself for some time.”

“You fought well, Sergeant,” I told her, and meant it. She’d sustained a broken rib in the final battle, and ‘twould be at least a few days before she could fly again thanks to the wing damage she’d taken in the superstorm fight. But even grounded and wounded, she had not flinched from further action, and had notched the only other hit on the Ravens we scored during the initial breach of the vault doors. 

In fact, I’d only learned from Gavian that she had defended me along with him when I fell to the Magus bolt, fearlessly engaging a Raven who tried to slay me. “And I heard from my son what you did for me. Thank you.” I bowed my head to her. 

Her cheeks warmed. “‘Tis but some small payback for saving my life during the Raider attack last December, and again last night, ma’am. But ‘tis not why I did it.” She did not elaborate, but nor did she need to.

I felt my own cheeks warm in turn. “You need not say more, Sergeant. But for now, I would like to speak with Stormrunner alone, if I may. In the meantime, you should rest. We are out of danger now, so please see to your own needs. Find a cot or cloud in the Air Wing quarters and sleep—they have made several dozen ‘racks’, as they call them, available to us. 

“Or if you are hungry, it may interest you to know that the airship’s mess hall—or excuse me, ‘galley’ in Naval parlance—has some surprisingly good Cloud Creole, and ‘twould seem the ship’s chief engineer has brewed some excellent liquor.” I couldn’t help but grin at the remembered taste, though I had abstained beyond a single sip for now. “He has promised all of us a full keg of it upon our return.”

“But ma’am—” Blindside started to protest only for the loud rumble of her stomach to make itself heard, to the laughter of me and Stormrunner. She then relented, with the promise she would return later.

“Methinks she’s quite devoted to you, Commander,” Stormrunner noted idly when she was out of sight; I wasn’t sure if I imagined a coy note in his voice. “And I admit I was touched by her attention as well. I do not actually know how quickly or even if I can gain her enhanced senses and ability to navigate her surroundings without depth perception, but I refuse to let such a minor injury keep me from my duty to defend Equestria.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his statement. He was clearly in pain, but bearing it well. “’Twas an incredibly brave thing you did, Master Sergeant,” I admitted, though I couldn’t resist a dig. “Utterly stupid, mind you, but still incredibly brave.”

“I regret nothing, ma’am,” he told me, even offering up a grin before his expression dropped. “Save that I was unable to slay that insulting Centurion and forced your son to save me.”

I admit I felt a moment of ire at him over Gavian, but it quickly receded. “Methinks I should be angry at you for endangering him and our escape, except for how well it worked out and my son’s incredible display.” And ‘twas the truth; I’d been amazed by what I saw of his battle with Nael. 

Word of Gavian’s victory and public oath of loyalty to Equestria had spread quickly amongst the Loyalty crew, courtesy of the returned Naval Air Wing, half of whom had witnessed the duel. Though initially wary of him, the tale of his battle feat as well as receiving a huge hug from Father in front of the crew had quickly silenced any potential neighsaying about him, though I still insisted he have protection at all times.

“And what of Gavian?” Stormrunner asked. “I passed out before I could see his battle. Is he all right? Is he safe?”

“He is now,” I confirmed. “‘Tis a shame you didst not see it, for he fought magnificently, Master Sergeant. He proved himself a warrior, and methinks I have never seen him so proud. He’s now sleeping in his own quarters with sentries present and his own private bodyguard. Given what they’ve heard of his duel, methinks the crew of the Loyalty will not harm him, but nor am I willing to take the chance.”

“A bodyguard? Who?” Stormrunner wanted to know, well aware that all of Gavian’s usual guardians—Swift Strike and the Celestial Guardsponies—were down.

“Well… funny story,” I said with a hoof behind my head, and began to explain that with Swift Strike exhausted and being treated for his own injuries—aside from the crystal fragments he’d taken, he’d also been dealt damage by the Ravens, who had scored at least two hits on him to none in return to the Sky Sergeant’s great embarrassment—the job of protecting Gavian now fell to an EIS operative I hadn’t even known was present amongst my soldiers.

‘Twas only when I was asking for volunteers to stay with Gavian and guard him as he slept that Private Mammatus presented herself and announced to me apologetically that she was in fact an undercover member of the PSD, assigned to watch Gavian both as an extra layer of protection and in case he proved to be some form of sleeper agent.

‘Twas certainly a surprise, as she’d been among the lower-rated combatants I’d had, but she had then fought far above her weight during the battles, slaying many whilst surviving each and every encounter we had.

Overhearing that, a wounded but still-lethal Swift Strike was on her instantly, leaping up from his treatment to put a blade at her throat. As if expecting it, she did not so much as flinch as he then challenged her with a short verbal phrase whispered in her left ear: “Eclipse.”

To which she paused for but a moment before replying: “Occlusion.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his blade and told me she could be trusted. “‘Twas a recognition code between the Lances and supporting EIS agents,” he explained at my questioning look. “Don’t bother trying to remember it, as the proper countersign depends on several factors. And before you ask, no, I was not aware of her,” he said as he returned to his treatment. “Methinks her presence is hardly surprising, though. Daggermind does like to ensure both assets and potential threats are covered from multiple angles,” he mused, referring to the diminutive head of the Equestrian Intelligence Service, a stallion who had the appearance of a foal but the mind of a master spy.

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” Stormrunner agreed as I finished the tale. He nodded slowly with a mild wince of pain, unable to quite suppress a grimace at the movement of his injured head. “He is safe, then. Remind me to tell you one day of the time I tried to impress a PSD pegasus mare as a brand-new Guardspony. When she took exception to my efforts, I ended up thrown through a table, finding myself flat on my back with a blade at my throat.” He reached up to rub his good eye with an undamaged hoof. “I was humbled then. And I find myself humbled now.” 

His mood abruptly dropped as my expression softened in turn. “Be assured, Master Sergeant, that you are far from the only one to be painfully humbled in their life,” I told him, recalling how I’d been badly beaten by Windshear the first time I challenged him in basic. ‘Twas then I suddenly remembered the odd vision I’d had of him when I lay paralyzed on the dusty cavern floor. 

I had a sickening feeling I knew what that vision meant, but stuffed that fear as deeply down as I could. I’d sustained enough painful losses that day; methinks I did not wish my beloved mentor’s name to be added to that lengthening list of dead. “I know not if Blindside can help you, but I do want you back. As long as you’re willing to obey orders and not resort to honor duels in the middle of an evacuation, that is. It worked this time, but methinks ‘twill not again,” I said with equal parts amusement and admonishment.

“I do not regret the duel; merely my conduct of it,” he told me, fatigue starting to show on his face again. “I allowed my emotions to get the best of me and played right into his hooves—or talons. And for it, I pay a heavy price,” he admitted. “I give you my word that I will be back, Commander, once I am battleworthy again.”

“I will hold you to that,” I told him, placing my hoof briefly over his. “In the meantime, rest.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he told me, and I stayed with him until he had fallen asleep.


* * * * *


With Stormrunner attended, ‘twas time to find the other individual of interest to me, who I had not seen in some time and was starting to worry about again—Sky Sentry.

Asking around, I finally found him on the airship’s topmost observation deck. Its heavy wooden planks had been scorched by lightning from the ballonet defenses and were not fully cleaned up, with a fried feather or bloodstains from slain gryphons here and there. “Sergeant?” I called to him as I ascended the stairs and spotted him, but he did not turn to me or immediately reply, still staring back in the direction we had come. “Have you eaten? Have you slept?” I tried again as I got closer. “Tis not healthy to brood.”

Instead of answering me, he posed a single, forlorn question. “Ma’am…? How am I here?” he asked me earnestly. “How are any of us here?”

I hesitated before answering, suddenly wondering if he was suffering some form of battle shock that caused him to lose his memory. “Because the Loyalty saved us,” I reminded him, only to watch him sharply shake his head.

“You don’t understand,” he told me. “I mean, I shouldn’t be here. I should have died with the rest of my battalion. With the mares I tried and failed to lead away,” he explained, starting to tear up again. “I remember each and every one of them. Their faces; their voices.” He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes taking on a haunted look. “The soldiers I led to their deaths.”

‘Twa only then I understood what he was saying. “Sergeant, stop,” I ordered him firmly, stepping in front of him and forcing him to look at me. “We’ve been over this already. There was nothing you could do and no way you could win. You are suffering from survivor’s guilt—believe me, I know what that feels like,” I told him, recalling my own after my first combat engagement had cost me sixteen soldiers so many months earlier. 

“Mourn them and remember them; honor and respect them. But seek not to join them. Dead, you cannot save or avenge them. But alive, you can fight in their name and help all Equestria in the process,” I told him, even as I had my own doubts, looking back on my battalion’s heavy losses.

By actual count, only one hundred three souls were left out of the battalion that had once numbered two hundred twenty, and of those, scores were injured, many critically. After rest and the most rudimentary of medical treatment, I had but eighty potential effectives left with the remainder either being non-pegasi or too badly wounded for further action. That was how many ponies had escaped Epsilon with their lives. More than half of my command had gone ahead to the Summerlands… and unfortunately, ‘twas certain we would never get the chance to retrieve the primary feathers of most of them.

I was presenting a brave front, but in truth, ‘twas merely an illusion. For ‘twas certain I bore my own scars by then; a part of me wanted to simply break down crying as Sky Sentry had whilst another wanted to lash out and slaughter as many gryphons as I could, seeking recompense for the unjust invasion and the lives they had taken. And yet, despite these and other emotions whirling through my head, the primary thing I felt was… loss.

‘Twas far from the first time ponies had died under my command, but these were but the first shots of the war, and I’d already lost half of those who’d entrusted their lives to me with the survival of the remainder only gained by happenstance and an unlikely rescue I could never repay. But here we were, and now the question before me was: What could I do to prevent it from happening again…?

“Mayhap it is survivor’s guilt,” Sky Sentry conceded after a long pause. “But I still bear it, Master Sergeant. It holds such sway over me that I fear I cannot fight.”

“You fought well enough back there,” I reminded him.

“Only because I thought by doing so, I would hasten my end and be able to fly forth to the Summerlands to join my lost mares and comrades,” he choked out. “My spirit is broken, ma’am. I may be here in body, but in truth, I am but a ghost now. For the pony I was died back there… with all of them.”




Final Fantasy XIV: Answers




I admit I knew not what to say to that, but then, for the second time in the space of a day, I felt the now-familiar tug of Harmony on my very spirit. ‘Twas then as I looked out with him to the east and draped my wing over him, that he began to sing, giving voice to his sorrow.


I ask of the sun, I can still hear war’s thunder
What is left for me now, that my soul has been sundered
My friends are all dead, and in grief do I wallow
How can I carry on if all I wish is to follow?


As he sang, I am told that all conversation throughout the ship ceased and eyes turned upwards towards the source of the song, hearts joined in shared grief and Harmony.





Greetings once again to all my little ponies. My role in this chapter will be brief but ‘twas unavoidable, for ‘twas not just those on the ship who heard his mournful song. Methinks that no matter how many times I have felt Harmony’s touch over my many years, I am still amazed by its ability to make us its voice; remind us all of its presence and purpose. Such it was here, and just when our reeling nation needed it most.


—Princess Celestia







Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1715 hours

Far away from Battle Group Capricorn, I stood on the east-facing balcony from which I normally enjoyed the rising sun. With the smoke from the Kalator clan covering the sky, however, the view was spoiled for me. 

I sighed, and I admit to a moment of weakness, wondering if it might yet be worth surrendering myself to the gryphons simply to spare Canterlot and all my little ponies the dragons’ wrath. Then I heard the strains of Harmony, echoing to me from a great distance. The lyrics sounded clearly in my head, and when they were completed and I understood the singer’s anguish, I then felt it pull on me to sing—to answer his plaintive cry.


To all of my ponies in whom grief is abundant


As my voice rang out, I felt Harmony reaching out to other places; to far away and missing Cloudsdale, its survivors picking through the ruins.


To all of my ponies on whom war hath passed its judgement


To Fort Spur, the base and town working together to see what might be recovered.


The soul yearns for meaning, and to write a new chapter


Everywhere Harmony touched, I felt the ponies—my little ponies—stop what they were doing, listening to my voice.


Look to those who fell first to inspire those who fight after







EAS Loyalty
Upper Observation Deck
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1716 hours

I felt more than heard the words the Princess sung; the joined song in not just my heart, but my very soul. ‘Twas the call of Harmony; the call of Friendship and Unity. I knew not how I understood it was now my turn to sing, but I did so fervently:


Shining bright is Harmony’s light of purpose
The Imperials have not yet usurped us
Stand fast, stay strong, our fate, is not sealed...…
Hope is still alive, so be healed


Tears rolled down Sky Sentry’s face as he heard the words, and then the entire ship crew joined in, providing a choral backdrop to my voice.


Honor (Mourn) Recall (Grief) Ally (Join) Unite (Rise) Follow (Lead) Resolve (Stand) Regroup (Rest) Assist (Help) Heal (Salve) Ponder (Hope) Friendship (Faith) Cherish (Love) Proclaim (Sing) Recruit (Train) Weather (Storm) Retreat (Check) Gather (Force) Rise Up (Stand) Recruit (Train) Reforge (Arms) Battle (War) Triumph (Win) Answer Fight on


Then it was my turn again and this time, I stood in front of him and put my hoof on his chest, letting him see the emotion; the shared grief in my eyes:


Now open your heart as my words must be heeded
Only if we lose faith, will we then lie defeated
Our lands may be torn, but with friends not forsaken
Then we may yet still fight, for our hope is not taken







Canterlot Castle
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1716 hours

‘Twas then my turn to pick up the song again:


War born of fear, their numbers dissuade us not
(Rise Up! Resist!)
They claim they had no choice, but their lies betray their thoughts
Caught by surprise, Equestria may falter
(Fear what? Claim what?)
Friendship binds, all to a, fate the gryphons will, not alter
With Friendship, at our call, our nation will not fall, we shall yet stand tall!







EAS Loyalty
Upper Observation Deck
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1717 hours

The chorus sounded again, this time joined by what sounded like all Equestria. And when it was complete, the final lines in the harmony-fueled song were mine, the lyrics giving voice to all my innermost thoughts and feelings I knew not how to say before:


All life is a riddle, full of rapture and sorrow
For us to rise up, we must all live for tomorrow
In this one fleeting moment, please hear Harmony’s song
In this one fleeting moment, let it make your soul strong.
In this same fleeting moment
You must fight
On
For Them


I hugged him hard as I voiced those final words, and he broke down, sobbing, one final time, having his forlorn question answered in a way that could not be denied. I held him close for a minute, letting him cry himself out, then left him alone at his request, so he could yet reach the resolution he needed to.

When he appeared again the next day, I would not say his mind or spirit was fully healed, but he did find the strength to fight again, vowing to do so in the name of his former comrades at my side.





Well-said—and well-sung!—as always, Captain. 

On the gryphon side, we used to mock the pony propensity for breaking out into spontaneous song, and thought that as strong warriors and the superior species, we were beyond the need for such things. We would find out later how spurious that belief truly was; I was never so surprised as when it finally happened to me!

Before I begin the next section, I have a few observations to make. Methinks I would first like to compliment your husband: having engaged him in mortal combat during the war and some friendlier spars afterwards, I know firstwing that he is a fine stallion and warrior, and my cubs have learned much from his combat academy. The essence of a warrior, I think you will agree, is not that you are never beaten, but that you pull yourself back up and learn from it, becoming an even better fighter after. ‘Tis certain that in the end, he did. 

The second item regards your sister. For reprising her joint commander role from the Dragon Lord Diabla conflict and thwarting that whole sordid and shameful attempt to overthrow the new order, Wind Whistler has the thanks of the entire Gryphon nation—save, perchance, the plotters, who methinks would have been less likely to restore the Empire than cause a short but bloody civil war that would have ended with Arnau in ruin and a weakened Kingdom without its Royal Line, leaving it potential prey for the Ibixian Supremacy to the east.

Neither I nor any but the most zealous of former Imperials have any wish for further war. After a century of nearly continuous conflict, most gryphons are happy to enjoy a time of peace; to rediscover our lost arts and culture that was slowly forgotten, subsumed by the Empire’s all-consuming militarism—an awakening process your son has definitely played a role in. Looking back on our recent history, ‘twould seem that the Empire’s ultimate flaw was that it could not survive without constant conquest. A lesson ‘twould seem the plotters failed to heed.

The request is to be made formally, but methinks I will make it here as well: I know your sister wishes to remain with her father now, but My Queen requests her presence before she returns to the Kingdom so she may recognize Wind Whistler properly. She is even willing to visit her at the hospital to do so.


—Layan Kaval


I will present the offer to my sister later, but I know her well enough to guess she will be suitably honored but request a private visit rather than a public ceremony, as ‘tis never been her way to seek fame or fortune. But within those conditions, methinks it safe to say the Queen can be accommodated, Ambassador. Methinks the Admiral might wish to see her as well.


—Firefly


So noted, Captain. I wish to also offer my congratulations for completing the tale of the first day of the conflict, detailing superbly the arrival of the Royal Navy and subsequent Escape from Epsilon. ‘Twas a daring rescue worthy of song, though methinks Prelate Gaius and certainly myself were less than happy at its outcomes.


—Layan Kaval






From the gryphon side, the first day of war had concluded generally satisfactorily given the agonizingly short notice on which we had launched offensive operations.





Looking at the map, most of the Equestrian border bases and forces were destroyed and the door to Equestria thrown open, with Outpost Epsilon evacuated and resistance at Omega along with its nearby Army bases finally ended, leaving all but the millennium-sized garrison at Gamma under our wings. ‘Twas true that we had not generally reached our first day objective line, but that had been drawn assuming we were attacking with the intended thirty legions instead of sixteen.

All was not well, however. Casualties had been unacceptably heavy among our attacking forces, especially in the north. The reports from the 16th Talon Legion were particularly grim, having lost nearly half its soldiers by the time the two airships escaped with the rescued Epsilon garrison aboard.

I was shocked by the news of the Royal Navy’s appearance, and though he hid it well, I have no doubt the Prelate was just as surprised. On the one wing, such an unlikely operation made no sense, as he observed—methinks quite correctly—that a single half-strength Corps battalion was not worth risking three sorely needed airships and their crews. 

Yet they’d done it anyway. Worse, given we’d crippled or destroyed every Naval base except one, the only possible location it could have come from was Stalliongrad, on the other side of Equestria and left off the initial target list because it was too far for our forces to fly in daylight. 

Owl-controlled ponies in Canterlot—not all of our mind-control victims were assassins; some were merely there to pass intelligence—further reported that the ships had acted without orders, which was even more unthinkable to us. For to do so was a capital offense in the Imperial military, but ‘twould certainly explain why we had no warning of their departure or destination.

Whilst the northern advance would have to await reinforcement before it could press further, and the central front was likewise delayed by the need to reserve nearly an entire legion to the task of keeping Gamma pinned, the southern sector was a different story. ‘Twas certain we had made the biggest inroads in the south, perchance because ‘twas closest to our supply base at Cirrus Cassida, or perchance because of the quality of the commander.





The rapid advance of the 7th Talon legion had caused much consternation at headquarters. It had quickly captured Fillydelphia and Baltimare on the wingbeats of the dawn raider attacks on the two cities, but then their lead cohorts had passed out of communication range, falling silent and leading to some fear that they had been cut off and destroyed by reinforcing Corps forces sweeping in from the south, on alert and eager for vengeance after the raid on Fort Spur.

Thankfully, ‘twas not the case as the legion commander, Legate Romelus, had simply swept all before her. She had not only taken all her first-day objectives but her first week ones as well, seizing Antlerapolis before pushing all the way to Fort Feathertop at Mareassas—whose Corps battalion she destroyed—near the foot of the Applelachian Mountains. The latter marked the border of the bat-pony lands, which all Imperial forces were under strict orders not to enter. Methinks I will refrain from telling that part of the story for now, however.

‘Tis worth noting that the raider groups we used in the initial assault had accomplished their goals a little too well, as several escaping ships had been sunk in the harbor, blocking its use by our transports until they could be cleared. They had also exceeded their instructions in their assault on the Pony Navy’s Orion base in Baltimare, destroying the airships but also having all but slaughtered the ill-trained troops there. 

Though the battle group and its crews were annihilated, the brutal attack and refusal to take prisoners by the Aqua and Magma raider groups had provoked strong resistance amongst the pony populace, preventing us from consolidating our control quickly.

The exceeding of orders there would be dealt with separately, however, as contact with our lost legion was reestablished late that night and ‘twas the north that held the Prelate’s attention as the sun dawned the following morning. Leaving his headquarters staff to deal with the remains of the pony raid and reestablish their operations further back from the border, he had insisted on being taken into the north to see the disaster that had befallen our forces there firstwing. I, in turn, had insisted on accompanying him, flying alongside his air carriage as his earth gryphon wings simply could not take him the distance.

Leaving after sunrise, we arrived not long after noon to see the scars of battle and fallen soldiers everywhere, of which far too many were gryphons. There was a large scour scar in the desert floor cut directly across the northern half of the ruined base, leading into the deep river gorge; its trace clearly marked by a collapsed canyon wall—the trail of the tornado that the Epsilon garrison had generated to ambush our forces as they retreated to their redoubt.

All of which we were already aware of, but which the commander of the 16th Talon legion tried to recount, to the Prelate’s great annoyance. 

“I have read the reports and am fully aware of the facts, Legate Galea,” Salvio Gaius cut him off sharply, “and ‘tis certain I do not need them regurgitated for me. What I need now is an explanation as to why the attack on the base was not immediately halted when the storm was sighted. 

“As to why our forces were sent in despite the obvious danger to be slaughtered beneath it. As to why you waited for such an arbitrary time as midnight instead of demanding an immediate surrender, and then attacking at once upon refusal. As to how you allowed three ancient airships to successfully ambush your legion...” His voice was generally calm but icy cold as he then leaned in close to let the Legate see his ire.

“And when all that is done, perchance you might also explain as to why a single duel was allowed to delay our assault on their escaping forces?” he all but growled out the words.

The Legate visibly swallowed but answered. “On my honor, My Lord, Tribune Rialta attempted to abort the attack—I heard her desperate efforts to do so over the scrying network! But the storm blocked our communications and then her entire command group was ambushed and lost—“

“And the reason she was commanding this attack instead of you, when you yourself had already reported she was having trouble coordinating your forces?” The Prelate drummed his talons on the wooden desk he sat at; ‘tis worth noting we were having our meeting in the ruins of the Equestrian base, inside the remains of the commander’s stateroom, which seemed to be less a military headquarters than an art studio.

The Legate chose his next words carefully, perchance knowing he was being indirectly accused of cowardice and dereliction of duty. “Because the plan was hers and I was attempting to manage our front. Because she insisted upon the chance to atone for her earlier errors and what I was told was a poor performance at the parley.”

“I see. And your opinion of her plan, Tribune?” he called back to me.

I had expected the question and already had an answer prepared. “In fairness, ‘twas not a bad plan at first glance, My Lord,” I admitted, having reviewed several order scrolls Rialta had earlier issued. “Its main error was not one of tactics, but timing. Mayhap it might have worked but for the foolish decision to wait and grant the ponies the time they needed to prepare their superstorm; once surrender was refused, the operation should have been launched immediately. But even their storm would not have availed them had we simply waited it out. There was nowhere they could go.”

“I concur. And that begs the question: why did you rush the attack?” the Prelate asked next. 

“Because, My Lord... their efforts were forcing us to concentrate too large a percentage of my legion against them and I promised you this sector would be ours by daybreak! And—” methinks he saw the problem with his own explanation too late.

“And even were that some form of actual deadline—which it was not—there was no reason you could not have waited a couple hours for the storm to clear once it was sighted,” Gaius instantly pointed out. 

“And how, exactly, did you not see it when it was being made?” Primarch Livia Cassius Junus, who had insisted on joining the Prelate in her continuing role as an observer, spoke up. “Methinks that the presence of a growing thunderhead in an otherwise dry desert might be just slightly obvious.”

“For once, she has a good point, Legate,” the Prelate noted, though I could tell the admission pained him. “Perchance you could explain how was it not spotted and reported?”

Despite his efforts at control, Galea was starting to visibly squirm. “They hid their efforts under a deep deck of fog, sir. And…” he trailed off, perchance recognizing again that his explanation was not going to suffice. 

“And what?” I knew from long experience that Salvio Gaius was starting to lose patience, for if there was anything he hated, ‘twas vacillation brought upon by an underling trying to evade admission of guilt or failure.

“And was that fog bank eight leagues high?”  I couldn’t resist asking, my tone dry. “By the Empress, we could see that storm all the way from Raptor Base!”

The Legate was now getting visibly flustered. “Please understand that ‘twas the result of Rialta’s plan, My Lord. She kept all her assault forces at low altitude, hidden in the fog so the ponies would not know from which direction they would come, and then ordered them to observe a communications blackout until the attack went in…” he cringed to admit, perchance only then realizing how bad it sounded. 

“And thus, my soldiers were unaware the storm was there until they were under it! I am told my Talons all but begged the Knights to turn back, but they would not do so, having received no orders—even though the Tribune was desperately trying to send them.”

What followed was a rare show of temper as the Prelate’s drumming talons suddenly clenched and dug deep furrows into the desk with a loud and painful sound.

It was several seconds before he spoke again. “Get out of my sight, Legate,” he ordered in a deceptively calm voice. “Methinks ‘twould be best if I decide your fate later, when I am in a less murderous mood.”

With that, the suddenly but sorely-endangered legion commander bared his throat hard and departed, trying not to appear too nervous or hasty as he withdrew.

“You have now heard the Legate’s accounting of events. Your opinion, Tribune?” the Prelate asked me again after another minute had passed and he had regained some measure of control.

I understood well where his anger was coming from, having cataloged a long litany of errors from the Legate’s description of events myself. “I believe I must now take back what I said, My Lord,” I admitted in great disgust. “From not having eyes in the sky to failing to create contingencies to observing a communication blackout that was pointless given the circumstances, that plan had holes wide enough to drive an entire pony airship through. Which they eventually did.”

“So what are you going to do about it, Prelate?” The Primarch smirked. “Never mind the superstorm, I seem to recall asking you about the pony navy, and you dismissed it as a bunch of ‘antiquated relics’ that would be of no consequence or concern. So ‘twould seem that you were wrong yet again this day! And yet again, our forces suffered severely!”

“We targeted their navy and destroyed at least six of their twelve airships on the first day of war, Primarch!” he bit back. “We hit what we could reach! And the possibility of the one base we didn’t target launching such an audacious operation without orders from so far away could hardly have been considered likely!”

“Oh? And here I thought you were a master strategist who could foresee all!” she mocked him, and, by the renewed curling of his talons and sharp lashing of his tail, for a moment I thought the Prelate was going to challenge her to a duel right then and there.

To his credit, however, he swallowed his pride and his temper, knowing the Empress would look none too kindly on him slaying her designated observer. ‘Twas certain he also knew that should he carry the campaign to a successful conclusion as he had so many times in the past, he would then fully gain the Empress’ favor and could do whatever he wanted to with the Primarch of the Paladins. 

Exhaling slowly from his beak and closing his eyes, he spoke once more, calmer in tone than before. “I will order our own navy to cut its shakedown cruises short and proceed immediately across the Eagle Ocean to our aid,” he promised, referring to what Ponies called the Antlertic Ocean. 

“Regardless, their tactic is exposed, as is the fact that they have one dangerous battle group in action. ‘Twill not be enough, and we will develop tactics to counter them should they appear again. In the meantime, our investigation here continues. I wish to know more about the cavern battle, so let us visit it and call in the Raven commander to meet us next.”





As I read this account now, it strikes me that the Prelate was in fact operating with an impediment in the form of Primarch Livia Cassius Junus, whose purpose, near as I can tell, seemed to be less to observe him than to torment him. I know not their history, but had this occurred in the pony military at the time, a death duel would certainly have resulted, and I find myself impressed that Salvio Gaius did not rise to such provocations as she issued. 


—Firefly


‘Twas not that he did not wish to, Captain, and had he thought she was impeding his efforts or the progress of the campaign—which merely insulting him did not rise to the level of—I have no doubt he would have dueled and slain her regardless of the Empress’ favor. 

Perchance he also let it go because he knew on some level that she was, in fact, correct—that he should have at least ordered a watch set on the one unraided Royal Navy base lest their ships tried to sortie. As it stood, they took the 16th Talon Legion completely by surprise, and much as he may have wished to, the Prelate knew that ultimately could not be blamed on Legate Galea.


—Layan Kaval






Fifteen minutes later found us picking through the rubble of the cavern battle, where we saw soldiers dragging dead gryphon and pony bodies into a pit where they could be burned.

That we were treating the Equestrian dead the same as our own was not a show of honor; ‘twas a precautionary act ages old to ensure that neither our fallen nor that of our enemy could be claimed by an ancient foe called the Cloven of the Sun, and their corpses reanimated against us. But the Cloven had been vanquished long before, and the least we could say of the scene was that the losses there were far more even.

An overturned pony table was set upright as the Prelate then turned his interview efforts from the initial Legion commander to the replacement one, pouring some tea for him. He, like me, expected the interview to be much less infuriating, at least as far as the interview subject went

“At ease, Tribune Tempest Umbra,” he told the Raven tiercel he had summoned, who saluted and bared his throat immediately upon his appearance, passing through his cordon of guards. “Please be seated. And be assured, I do not hold you at fault for this debacle.”

“The fact that you promoted me to Talon Tribune told me as much, My Lord.” He bared his throat again, now wearing Talon pauldrons and a command chain in addition to his Raven attire. “For which I thank you, even if I am confused as to why I was rewarded for this failure.”

“Because ‘twas through no fault of your own. I sent you to reverse this situation, and from the reports I have read, your plan to do so was superbly conceived and executed. You could not have foreseen the Royal Navy’s intervention, let alone it coming from the gryphon side of the border. But I do wish to know from your own beak your account of this action.”

“Yes, My Lord.” He sat up straight before the Prelate and accepted the bowl of tea, taking a small drink before speaking. “But I know not what else I can tell you that was not in my report, as what happened was quite simple: all was going well, but then we were undone by the surprise appearance of pony airships and the honor of a single idiotic Knight,” he said in disgust as he took his first drink from the bowl. “The first opened the door to their escape. The second allowed them to pass through it.”

‘Twas a particularly succinct summary of events, I thought, and for not trying to excuse or sugarcoat it, the Prelate did respect him. “I have read your after-action reports. You say Centurion Nael threatened you if your teams intervened in his duel?”

“Ordered a halt to the attack while the duel proceeded, and then ordered his fellow Knights to slay us if we did anything to disrupt it, yes!” he spat out. “And then when that youngling traitor intervened, he allowed himself to be goaded into dueling him as well; the damned, crow-bitten fool! I begged him to set us loose and order an attack, but he would not!”

The Prelate nodded slowly in understanding—’twas what we had heard from the Knights and multiple Ravens at this point, so we had no reason to doubt his account. “This youngling traitor—I wish to know more. He was a former raider, who are hardly known for their battle prowess. So exactly how was he able to defeat a veteran Fortis Knight in single combat?”

The Raven commander considered the question carefully before answering. “'Tis difficult to explain how he could be so good. Methinks his combat style was unique. If I had to compare it to anything, I would say he fought like a Black Lance, My Lord,” he mused. “Which mayhap makes sense if he was schooled by one—our reports said that he was undergoing blade training with Swift Strike, the garrison’s pet Lance operative. 

“I know not how the youngling was trained up to that level in such a short time, but it disgusts me to say that from what I saw of the duel, he was every bit as fast and skilled as us. For he not only survived engagement with two of my number during the initial breach, but he took down the Centurion in superb fashion, goading him into a second duel and then using his superior speed against him. Methinks Nael could barely touch him and in the end, he fell to a slashed throat.”

“You may be assured that I agree Nael was a fool of the first order. But the reason you did not attack the ponies immediately once he fell…?” Gaius challenged.

Umbra’s beak clenched and his eyes narrowed. “Methinks you may ask our Fortis Knight friends the answer to that question,” he grated out. “Be assured, Prelate, that I promptly ordered an attack, but they did not follow! They said that the Centurion’s acceptance of the duel terms stood despite his death and thus, they could not assist us in the effort! My three teams then declined a futile fight against a prepared battle line braced with fresh forces that outnumbered us six to one.”

“Understandable. And the losses to your teams…?” The Prelate began drumming his talons again.

The Raven looked embarrassed. “Two with minor wounds received engaging their resident Black Lance and Guardspony commander. None dead,” he recited, which I couldn’t help but note was a far cry from the reports still slowly trickling in from the attack on Cloudsdale, where the Wind Knight and Raven losses in the operation were being described by the survivors as catastrophic.

“Pathetic,” Livia Junus spoke up. “And you are supposed to be the most skilled and deadly assassins in all the Empire? My opinion is that you should have attacked anyway! Slew the traitor and their leadership even at the cost of your lives!”

“I care not for your opinion, Primarch!” The Raven Tribune rounded on her. “I am perfectly willing to sacrifice my teams and myself for Empress and Honor, but not in a hopeless attack that gains us nothing! I slew several ponies personally this night, and I did not rise to my station without reason as I have over sixty successful missions and five Black Lance kills to my name! 

“So if you think me pathetic, feel free to challenge me! Methinks I will be more than happy to add your overstuffed and empty head to my trophy collection!” he goaded her, completely unintimidated by her large stature, to which she snarled and hefted her war hammer, ready to issue the challenge right then and there.

I had to stifle a smile as the Raven’s words and actions met with my approval, listening as he voiced the sentiments I might have wished to but was unable to. Whatever his own thoughts—I’m sure he would have not minded in the least the chance to be rid of the Primarch and not be blamed for it—the Prelate held up a single set of foretalons. 

“Enough. As much as I might enjoy such a spectacle, we will not descend into duels over a failed operation, particularly one that none present bear blame for. Unfortunately, most of those who do bear blame are already slain.” His expression turned dark.

“Then discipline the legion commander!” Livia demanded. “Show me and the Empress that there is some penalty for failure, Prelate!”

His eyes flickered towards her in annoyance. “So be it. Summon the Legate,” he finally ordered his guards.

A minute later, Galea entered and saluted again, trembling slightly as he awaited his fate.

The Prelate returned his salute before speaking, regarding him coldly. “Legate Galea, you have gravely disappointed me and the Empress with the conduct of your command. You should have exercised much greater oversight over the operations against Epsilon than you did, particularly given the shortcomings of your second—shortcomings that you yourself reported,” he recited the damning facts slowly as the soon-to-be-defrocked Legate stood rigid before him. 

“The errors in judgment and failures of discipline this day were numerous and inexcusable—errors that have held up the northern wing of our advance and cost us nearly two and a half millennia of soldiers! These facts are incontrovertible, and I am not swayed by your attempts to shift blame to your second, given you failed to properly supervise her. So before I pass sentence, have you anything to offer in your defense?”

“No, My Lord.” Methinks he just managed to keep the quaver from his voice. “‘Tis exactly as you say. And for it, what is your decision?”

The Prelate regarded him for a moment before speaking again. “For such grievous and pointless losses as you have sustained, I relieve you of command and leave the 16th Talon legion under the control of newly elevated Raven Tribune Umbra until a more suitable replacement can be named.” He nodded off to the side, where the Tribune still sat, staring in contempt at him.

“As for punishment, you are reduced in rank to Centurion and will be given command of a century in place of a legion. If you wish to restore your rank and honor, you can do it leading troops on the front lines where you failed to do so before. That is all I will grant you. And mayhap more than you deserve.”

The now-former Legate saluted once before he was stripped of his rank insignia and several pieces of armor that his lower status meant he was no longer entitled to wear. “I will carry out your orders to the best of my abilities, Prelate,” he promised, clearly struggling to control his emotions. “For Empress and Honor!”

“Disgraceful,” the unimpressed Primarch pronounced upon his departure, which was swiftly followed by Tribune Umbra, who left to reorganize the remains of his crippled legion. “You should have executed him on the spot!”

“To borrow Centurion Umbra’s phrase, I care not what you think, Primarch!” There was an edge to the Prelate’s voice. “Galea was a good soldier and leader once. Perchance he lost sight of what that means and needs only to be reminded of it. For Centurion Nael was right about one thing: the loss of honor can be a very strong motivator to a gryphon warrior.”

“And what of Centurion Nael himself?” I prompted. “Even in death, his offenses cannot be ignored.”

“Agreed.” Prelate Gaius drummed his talons again. “For enabling the escape of the Epsilon garrison and then falling disgracefully to a pony-trained fledgling, dishonor his name and demote his second,” he ordered. “You will then issue the following proclamation to be read throughout the Imperial military: any soldier, regardless of service branch, who endangers an operation to fight a duel with opposing soldiers will be stripped of rank and honor, and will then spend the rest of the war in the gem mines—if they are lucky.”

“It will be done,” I bowed, and then took a quick note.

“Good,” he pronounced as we left the tent and headed for his waiting air carriage again. “And I will further order that from here on out, there will be no surrender deadlines. Surrender is to be offered but once before an attack, and if not immediately accepted, the defending force is to be wiped out with no prisoners taken except on explicit orders,” he directed, his eyes narrowed. 

“The ponies abused our generosity this past night and it cost us dearly. No more—they will learn that resistance is futile, and if the cost of teaching them that is a few razed bases and villages, then so be it.”





An ominous order indeed, and one methinks I can almost understand given the losses we inflicted on the Talons that first day of war. In truth, I am flattered that the Prelate thought well enough of the Navy to target us so extensively on the first day, for he showed far more respect to us than many ponies did at that point in time.

Fair skies and following winds once again to all readers. ‘Tis Commodore Shady speaking now, and ‘twould seem the final words in the chapter once again belong to me. I admit I did know about the plot against the Queen, and I was present as much for that as to be there for Tailwind. 

I sought also to guard him, hoping that my uncanny luck, which, with considerable practice, I’ve managed to turn into a more targeted weapon over the years, could protect him. Regardless, due less to my efforts than certainly that of Wind Whistler, he and the Queen are safe, and the alliance between our two nations is strengthened instead of sundered.

So for the final words of this entry, I would wish to detail what we found upon arrival at Ursa base. Suffice it to say, we sought refuge there from our pursuit, only to find upon arrival that there was none.


—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad







Royal Navy Base Ursa
On the northeastern shore of the Lunar Sea
September 2nd, 1139 AC
1830 hours

At half-speed, ‘twas nearly sunset before we reached what we thought was sanctuary at Royal Naval Base Ursa.

Unfortunately, ‘twas soon apparent that it was anything but, as the evidence of a gryphon attack was all around. Half the facilities were lost, with some fires still smoldering. Two airships lay in ruin, smashed into pieces on the ground, and the third, though still intact, was heavily damaged and being quickly stripped of anything useful; as we watched, cannons were taken off an undamaged deck to another ship in the distance.

“That’s odd,” I couldn’t help but note. “That’s the Armistice. They look like they’re not repairing him, but breaking him down.”

“They are,” Ensign Kusema confirmed, having grabbed only a few hours of sleep before returning to her station, her hoof at her ear gem again. “According to the reports I’m hearing, they’re cannibalizing him to make the Yoketown flightworthy again.”

“The Yoketown?” Tailwind asked in disbelief before I could. “But he’s a museum ship! He hasn’t sailed in half a century!”

“‘Twould seem they had no choice, sir, given the Alliance and Entente were total losses along with most of their crews.” Kusema’s voice was numb; I knew not if ‘twas from the news or from simple fatigue. “The Armistice likewise sustained heavy casualties and damage, though ‘twould seem ‘twas his guns and air wing that finally succeeded in driving off the attack. 

“His engines are dead and ‘tis unlikely they can be repaired before the gryphon advance overruns the base, so they decided to try to bring the undamaged Yoketown back into service instead,” she explained, and as we watched, we saw the old ship’s ballonets being slowly inflated, with some visible leaks being quickly patched from salvaged pieces of fabric.

I shook my head at the news. “Can they even crew him?”

“Using surviving crews from all three ships… yes, if only barely. The Port Admiral, however, requests any crew we can spare for him.”

“Tell him we’ll see what we can do.” The Naval Base commander, Port Admiral Ironclad, had been both shocked and relieved to see us—they had indeed been told of our operation and that we intended to return to Ursa, but he had been certain, and ‘twas hardly without reason, that our foalhardy rescue mission would result in our destruction.

Such was relayed to me by Kusema, who passed messages between us as the Port Admiral had lost his communications office, destroyed along with his headquarters which he had been absent from that morning only by happenstance. He was thus forced to use civilian dragonfire gems to coordinate his remaining forces, which were neither secure nor had the range or networkability of military grade crystals. Until I could receive a paired gem, of which he had none to spare, this meant I could not speak to him directly, forcing Kusema to act as a go-between, as she alone could listen in on civilian communications. “Perchance he could at least tell us what happened here?”

Kusema asked the question, and waited until she had an answer. “The Port Admiral reports they had barely started to mobilize when they were struck by a reinforced Knight cohort not long before noon, and their base was nearly razed, ma’am. They fought off the attack but at enormous cost. Army troops are en route to garrison the facility, but in the meantime, he requests that the Loyalty and Vigil remain on patrol and ready to repel any additional raids. He offers the remnants of the Armistice’s air wing for the purpose as well, but warns ‘tis ‘but a few dozen brave and bloodied souls’ that remain.” She sounded like she was quoting him.

I offered up a silent prayer. “Any reinforcements are welcome, but tell them we need to dock for at least an hour in order to take on supplies and get our wounded off.”

Kusema relayed the message only to grimace. “He says they will give us what they have and can offer us some fuel, but with most of their depots hit, they have little to spare. He further reports their surviving healers are overwhelmed and they have no room for our wounded, ma’am,” she recited grimly. “He therefore requests we keep our wounded aboard and ask in turn if we have any room for theirs.”

I closed my eyes, wondering if the situation could be any more dire. “Not unless we want to lay them out on the upper deck. Check with Copper Coin to see if he has space,” I directed, referring to the Commander of the Vigil, a slightly snobbish unicorn stallion who, like Sterling Silver, had been born to minor nobility. Somewhat to my surprise, he had acquitted himself well that day, carrying out orders crisply, successfully repelling the Talon attack on his ship and even leading the effort personally.

“Aye, ma’am. He also states that they are transferring their more minor wounded to healers in nearby towns. But most of their transports were lost in the raid, so they request the use of our lifeboats in the effort.”

I rubbed my eyes with a hoof, making a mental note to exchange communication crystals as soon as possible—’twas annoying and inefficient to have to go through Ensign Kusema like this. “Tell him our lifeboats are likewise drained of power given we used their crystals to enable our escape. So his choice is: he can either fuel our airships or our lifeboats, but not both.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” If Kusema was annoyed at being used like this, she did not show it as she once again relayed my words. “He suggests splitting the difference—he will partially fuel the Loyalty and a select number of her lifeboats whilst the Vigil can remain docked where her guns can cover his hospital and new headquarters, and she can also be used as a second and sorely needed infirmary.”

I grimaced again, not liking the idea of having no escort and certain Copper Coin would be none too happy at such orders either. But methinks I could not find a better solution, and the Port Admiral was a superior officer anyway. “Very well. Tell him we will pass that along to the Vigil and dock at their convenience.”

Another minute passed before the Port Admiral spoke again. “He requests the Vigil to put down by the infirmary, and the Loyalty to put down over the drill fields, ma’am, a mile ahead on the port side,” Kusema relayed. “As their docks are destroyed, they’ll wheel in supplies using borrowed civilian carts and workers.”

‘Twas certain at that moment I felt the gryphon attack had driven us back to the dark ages for the damage they’d done us. “Orders acknowledged. Mister Sora, take us in. Advise the crew of our instructions, and order all hoofs to stand to and prepare to lower the boarding ramps to take on supplies.”


* * * * *


‘Twas nearly midnight when we took off again and began circling Ursa, with the Corps and Naval pegasi running combat air patrols over the half-ruined base in shifts. And this time, after snagging barely a couple hours rest, Master Sergeant Firefly joined me on the bridge. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she told me at my inquiry. “Methinks I’m tired, and yet, my mind will not rest. I keep expecting some new crisis or attack to roust me and thus, I fear to close my eyes. I wonder if this is the normal state of war?” she pondered aloud almost glumly, to which I ordered up from the galley some of the mint tea that had always quieted my mind and helped me sleep. Once it arrived, ‘twas my intention to order her to drink it and then go back to bed—she may have commanded her battalion, but ‘twas my ship they were on and thus, all on board answered to me—when a visibly tired Kusema spoke up again.

“Ma’am, incoming communication. It’s from Canterlot,” she reported in a slightly nervous tone.

I gave a sigh of resignation. I’d known this was coming, though ‘twas certain I wished it could have at least kept until morning. “Patch it through, Ensign,” I directed, deciding ‘twas better to get my dressing-down over with sooner as opposed to later. “And as we are closer to Canterlot now, establish visual, if possible.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” A couple of seconds later, a projection of Admiral Coral Torch appeared on the main crystal display. The seafoam-green pegasus mare looked stern, as always, though her no-nonsense image was somewhat ruined by the fact that her mane appeared to be free-floating around her. In fact, it almost looked like she was underwater and that her hoof was stretched out past the picture to hold whatever device she was using to communicate with us.

My observations were interrupted as she spoke. “So, Captain Shady. Despite all odds, ‘twould appear you managed to survive your idiotic expedition to the border.” Her eyes then landed on Firefly, who stood up a bit straighter under the Admiral’s appraising gaze. “And ‘twould seem you even managed to rescue at least part of the garrison stationed there. I suppose you think yourself terribly clever, managing to pull that off,” she stated in some scorn as her gaze returned to me.

I didn’t rise to the bait. “Ma’am, unofficial as our mission was, I am pleased to report the successful rescue of at least 100 of the Aerial Corps’ finest whilst inflicting great loss to the gryphons… though ‘tis with regret I must also report that ‘twas not without severe loss of our own. We suffered significant casualties to our air wing, as well as several dozen more to our crews when the gryphons attempted a boarding action.”

I took and released a deep breath before continuing, steeling myself for what I had to report next. “Our greatest loss, though, was the Duty. When her engines were disabled, Lieutenant Commander Sterling Silver adhered to Naval General Order Number Five. 

“She destroyed her own ship by detonating the ship’s crystal power core, killing everypony—and every gryphon—on board. For such fearless sacrifice, I recommend her posthumous decoration as a Moon Knight accompanying her promotion to full Commander, and I take full responsibility for disobeying orders and the loss of life we’ve sustained. Be assured I will submit myself to those you may designate for arrest and court-martial. I will not contest the charges, and I will accept my punishment without protest.” I stood at attention as I spoke; the bridge falling silent around me as they awaited the Admiral’s next words.

To her credit, Coral Torch limited her reaction to a single raised eyeridge. “A very frank assessment, Captain. And to be honest, ‘tis far better than I expected.” She closed her eyes briefly herself; I saw what looked like a series of bubbles pass in front of her. “Although the loss of the Duty with all hooves is regrettable, ‘tis certain it could have been far worse. In fact, methinks ‘tis certain I did not believe any of you would make it back.”

“But she did, Admiral,” Firefly spoke up on my behalf. “She saved us all and inflicted grievous losses on the gryphons in the process. She has my gratitude for her superb skill and leadership, and I wish you to know that I would go into battle with her again without any hesitation.”

“Your sentiment is noted, Master Sergeant,” the Admiral replied with a terse nod. “And mayhap you will shortly have that chance. ‘Tis fortuitous that I find you on the bridge with the Captain, for I have new orders for both of you.”

“New orders?” I blinked; this was a far cry from her earlier talk with me. “Ma’am? Am I then to be retained in command? Are you saying that there is to be no punishment for my actions?”

“I did not say that,” she reprimanded me sharply. “However, following a talk with Princess Celestia, I decided that your attempt to ‘make a difference’, as you termed it, was the correct decision, even without orders to do so. We need every experienced officer we have, so quite simply, I cannot now spare you. That said…” Her eyes opened, and she fixed me with a stare.

“Regardless of this operation’s outcome, I will be ordering an inquiry into your actions, from which severe censure or worse may yet result. Furthermore, I understand that you had a review for promotion to Commodore coming soon?” At my nod, she continued. “That review will be pushed back a period of six months. Consider this your punishment for now, Captain.”

I very nearly fell over with relief; an inquiry and a delayed review for promotion? ‘Twas far more than I could have expected or hoped for. “I… thank you for your mercy in this matter, Admiral. ‘Tis more than I deserve.”

She nodded, then her features softened. “Methinks I should be thanking you, Captain. You said you were trying to strike a blow for both the Navy and all Equestria, and despite my fears, ‘twould seem you succeeded. With this successful display of the Navy’s abilities, methinks it may yet be the impetus needed to begin our return to glory and become a feared force in this new war. I need not tell you we were once as respected as the Royal Guard,” here, she nodded to Firefly, “and ‘tis past time those days returned.” 

“Then I have no regrets, ma’am,” I told her. “I accomplished what I set out to do.”

She offered up a rare grin in response. “Indeed you did. Methinks your triumph will also do wonders to silence our neighsayers in the other branches. In fact, given your victory here, the Princess is about to order the Navy’s expansion. Starting tomorrow, the keels of six new airships are to be laid at Stalliongrad. Though I fear finding crews for them may be another matter.”

Firefly chuckled, “You’ll hear no arguments from me on the subject of Naval expansion, Admiral, and ‘tis certain my father will be very happy to hear it. If you need recruiting help, I would be more than happy to use my notoriety to assist. Indeed, I believe I must take back every disparaging remark and thought I’ve ever had about the Navy!”

A round of chuckles passed through the bridge, and even the normally gruff Admiral allowed her mirth to show for a bare moment. “Coming from one of the fastest-rising stars in the Royal Guard, ‘tis high praise indeed!” she stated, only to immediately turn sober again. “That said, back to business. As earlier mentioned, I have new orders for both of you.”

We both straightened. “Ma’am?” we said as one.

“Since the invasion began, we’ve had no word from Cloudsdale regarding their status. Considering that the city was marked as a priority target in the pilfered invasion plans, we can only assume the gryphons did indeed attack it, though with communications broken to the Corps and militia bases there, we know not how bad things are.” She bit her lower lip.

“The Princess did direct two battalions of the Aerial Corps 1st Division to her defense, but we have heard naught from them either. Thus, this order comes directly from Princess Celestia: Battle Group Four is to head for Cloudsdale’s projected position no later than noon tomorrow and attempt to re-establish communications, as well as assess the damage to the city.”

“I see…” I considered the instructions carefully. “Have we any idea where to look?”

“They were directed by message runners to flee southwest from their original location, which as of yesterday, was drifting southeastward over the Applelachian Mountains roughly midway between the cities of Detrot and Bison. As neither Detrot nor Bittsburgh, which are the nearest major cities to their recommended retreat path, has spotted them, ‘twould seem likely they slipped between them to avoid observation from enemy spies and took cover near Lake Luna, in the fog over the high mountains that mark the border to bat-pony lands.”

Firefly and I exchanged a worried look. “I will carry out those orders to the best of my abilities, ma’am,” I nevertheless answered. 

“I expect no less. And that brings me to the subject of you, Master Sergeant.” She turned to Firefly next. “To make up for the Loyalty’s air wing losses, the remains of the Epsilon garrison is to accompany them, as per the recommendation and orders of Captain Typhoon, who is also currently in temporary command of all Corps forces after the assassination of General Fairweather and her second. Worry not about Ursa; two battalions of soldiers from the Aerial Corps’ 4th Division will arrive tonight to defend the base in your absence.”

I exchanged a look with a relieved Firefly, then turned back to the Admiral as we saluted as one. “Aye-aye, ma’am!” I said, echoed by the younger mare. “But methinks we still lack sufficient fuel for the trip, and given their losses, Ursa Base has little to spare,” I informed her, but once again, she was ahead of me. 

“I thought that might be the situation, Captain. So I have ordered Capricorn Base at Stalliongrad to dispatch thirty transports with additional supplies and crew to Ursa, including extra workers to help get the Yoketown ready and, if possible, repair the Armistice’s engines in time for evacuation and refit at Stalliongrad. The first transports should land at 0800. Take on what you need, and then head south, for Thestralslovakia.”

I exchanged another look with Firefly, who clearly had the same question I did. “And if the thestrals object to our presence…?”

“‘Tis certain the last thing we need is a second front, so be deferential and do your utmost to avoid conflict. Emphasize that you are not staying and that your sole mission is to see to the safety of Cloudsdale, Captain. Escort it away from thestral lands to a point near Windy City, by the southern tip of the Lunar Sea. I will feed you the exact coordinates later, but the Princess has a very specific purpose in mind for her pegasi.”

“Understood, ma’am,” I acknowledged, even as I wondered what possible purpose that could be. 

“Good. As for the thestrals themselves, a formal delegation is en route to them. ‘Tis unlikely, however, that they will reach them before you do.

“So if contact is made, you are to apologize for the intrusion but remind them of their obligations as per the sovereignty settlement they reached with the Princess after the Celestial War. As that treaty includes a provision to defend Equestria in the event of invasion, Our Princess now calls upon them to fulfill their oath and offer their soldiers into our service…”





“War is cruelty. There is no use in trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.”

—General William Tecumseh Sherman