Greetings to all readers for the first real time in this volume.
‘Tis Blindside speaking now, former First Sergeant and founding member of the Bolt Knights, but now just a simple mother, herdmate and tea shop owner, following in my own beloved mother’s wingbeats for the latter. To my great surprise, I find myself with an increasing desire to join my comrades and Captain in penning my own passages in this latest work, which I have not contributed to yet beyond a few brief asides.
As for why I have not contributed, ‘tis in fact quite simple: I care not for fame and fortune and never have. So why do I choose to contribute now? Mayhap ‘tis but a simple desire to assist my beloved herdmate in the telling of this tale that motivates me, realizing over time that there are indeed things I can offer it. And by extension, her.
Speaking of that beloved herdmate, Firefly has not yet returned from the first leg of her journey, nor will she for another week. In the meantime, ‘tis up to me and Stormrunner to represent our herd at the departure of Queen Lepidoptes IV. ‘Tis certain she arrived to no little trepidation but leaves to great acclaim; to see her now in the final formal affair before her visit ends, methinks she appears all but radiant, basking in the enormous appreciation shown her.
Perchance ‘tis not surprising how hale and happy she looks. ‘Tis well known her race feeds on love, and ‘twould seem Our Princess has offered it aplenty.
She departs with an invitation for Celestia to one day return the favor by visiting her hive, though ‘tis difficult to see how that can be accomplished in secrecy. But ‘tis not for me to decide, and ‘tis a far different tale I wish to relate now.
—First Sergeant Blindside (ret.)
Proprietor, Dandelion Tea and Coffee Shop
Canterlot
Before I begin, ‘tis worth noting that ‘twas the original intention for me to pen the entry regarding Gavian’s duel with Thunderbolt. But the unexpected account of our anonymous Raven observer took precedence, as well it should.
As for Gavian’s duel, there is little I can add that was not already stated, save for perchance one minor detail that nopony—or nogryphon—else has mentioned. Gavian was facing towards the ship and away from the main body of the crowd when his final strike felled Thunderbolt. So our unknown gryphon witness could not see his eyes, but standing with Firefly and the others, I could.
What has stuck with me all this time from that ultimate exchange was not Gavian’s flawless and unbelievably fast sword draw, or even his felling of my mentor with it. ‘Twas that just before it happened, I saw Gavian’s green eyes suddenly shine bright. For a single instant, his gaze glowed even more intensely than the thestrals around us, like two emerald firegems at full illumination.
‘Twas not until much later when I’d fought a few gryphons at night that I realized what had happened, and that I hadn’t just imagined it. ‘Twould seem that as Thunderbolt charged, Gavian’s pupils dilated just like a pouncing cat to let in as much light as possible, allowing him to see his approaching enemy with perfect clarity. And mayhap even time his attack appropriately.
It could have been a dead giveaway had his intentions not already been made plain, or if there had been any chance for Thunderbolt to dodge the strike. In hindsight, my mentor’s only chance to defeat that attack would have been to disrupt its timing, but Gavian was far too smart and Thunderbolt too fixed on the idea that his hatred alone made him invincible to make such a plan. Instead, he tried to beat it with his waning speed alone, and ‘tis certain the results speak for themselves.
‘Tis worth noting that Thunderbolt would face that same strike again one day, from a far different but equally potent adversary. But as it lies in the future, ‘tis a tale I will leave untold for now, except to say that whether he could beat it or not would depend on whether he fully learned the lessons of his defeat.
Lessons that, when I visited him the next day, were only just starting to sink in.
Sickbay
EAS Loyalty
Central District Airship Anchorage
Cloudsdale
September 5th, 1139 AE
1130 hours
Methinks I did not wish to stop standing vigil outside of Sickbay when Sky Sentry appeared.
Nevertheless, his reasons for helping us and telling us to rest were compelling, and in the end, I did not wish to deprive him of some chance to help himself. I also couldn’t help but note that although he had undergone the same horrific experience as Thunderbolt, he had not—at least to that point—become him, though I wasn’t clear on why.
Regardless of the answer, I thought that mayhap he might be able to show my beloved mentor that he did not have to be the demon of vengeance he fancied himself. That he could still fight and serve without losing himself in hatred and bloodlust, showing the same honor and desire to help others as he once had in patiently teaching a half-blind pegasus filly to not just fly, but thrive.
I awoke the middle of the next morning in my bunk, having slept right through reveille. ‘Twas allowed for me as I remained on only very limited duties, still recuperating as I was from the wounds I had suffered during the superstorm fight at Epsilon.
Nevertheless, I immediately headed for sickbay, though ‘twas as much for myself as for Thunderbolt—methinks the Naval healers were less than pleased when I showed up with fresh inflammation in my flight muscles. ‘Twas a consequence of taking wing to help Fell Flight rush Thunderbolt to sickbay the night before, a full two days before I was supposed to be flying again.
When I arrived, I found Sky Sentry, bless his noble soul, still at the door where we had left him. Methinks he had remained there all night without rest, standing vigil as he promised us. He told me that Thunderbolt was on the road to healing, at least physically—that he was alive and out of surgery, and the healers had been astounded by how quickly his wounds were mending even with all their magical help.
All was not well, however. Gavian remained unconscious and in critical condition, even with an exhausted-looking Still Way at his side. I briefly observed him from a distance and found that, despite being cleaned up and patched up, he still looked very much on death’s doorstep.
I did not go to check on him directly as I saw a haggard and sleepless Firefly was there, speaking in clipped tones with her father. I was unaware, of course, that she’d had a rather heated talk with Captain Typhoon earlier in the night, and I also had no idea she had just received some extremely bad news from the ship’s communications office that left her even more upset. But remembering the Captain’s admonition, I decided ‘twas best to stay clear of her, no matter how much I may have wished to offer her comfort.
As for Thunderbolt, they told me he had awoken but was not accepting food. That he was doing nothing but looking up at the ceiling, refusing to respond to anything asked of or said to him.
Captain Typhoon had told us the day before that ‘twas no use talking to Thunderbolt whilst he remained in thrall to his demons. That he would not listen to reason so long as he believed his hatred was holy and made him invincible. But now that his defeat to Gavian had shown such horrifically misguided ideals to be not just false, but the basest form of lie…?
Asking for and receiving permission to speak with him with the warning to keep my time brief, I gathered my courage and approached him. “Sir?” I called to him. “‘Tis Blindside. May we talk?” I asked him politely, saluting and then sitting down at his bedside.
He didn’t answer except for a tightening of his lips and a momentary twitch of his eyes.
Well, at least he recognized me, I thought. “Please, sir. Whatever you’re going through right now, let us help you. You still have friends. For all you did for us, you know Fell Flight and I would do anything for you.” I reached for his limp right hoof, with his left still bandaged from the sword slash that had penetrated his hoofstriker mid-duel.
That finally broke the ice as he pulled the hoof sharply away from me. “Wouldst do anything for a pony exposed as a fraud and a murderer at least two hundred times over?” If I recall, Gavian had challenged him to count how many innocent gryphons he had slain, and though I didn’t think of this at the time, perchance that was the number he came up with. “Why did the Captain save me? Why was I not just allowed to die and end my agony? To face my judgment and be banished to whatever level of Tartarus I deserved?”
“Because we need you, sir,” I told him immediately, automatically echoing Typhoon’s words. “Because all Equestria needs you. But as an honorable soldier, not a soulless slayer.”
He gave a weak and slightly wheezing snort, grimacing at the pain that shot through his still-bandaged chest where Gavian’s sword had slashed and nearly slain him. “If not as a slayer, then what good am I? Thunderbolt the soldier could not save his friends or that village. At least Thunderbolt the slayer could avenge them and then emerge again to save this city!” he told me, and for the first time, I saw tears well in his eyes. “Without that demon that Gavian Ravenoff slew, I fear I am nothing. Without that demon within me, I fear I can do nothing.”
“You are far from nothing, sir,” I answered instantly. “You were a teacher and mentor to many, including me and Fell Flight. You were respected and revered. Loved by ponies and feared by gryphons. From all reports, you single-hoofedly fought off the Imperials and saved countless ponies at the Weather Factory, including Fell Flight’s sister!”
“And all that is gone now,” he said in a dull tone. “The real Thunderbolt is exposed for all to see, and he is no hero. Just a mass-murdering monster who took the lives of countless gryphons whose only crime was being before him.”
“The demon did that, not you,” I insisted, if somewhat tentatively.
“You don’t understand,” he told me, turning his head away from me. “The demon and I are inseparable. I am responsible because I chose to become it, first twelve years ago, and then again four days ago. And this latest time, I not only embraced it, but I reveled in it! When war broke out and I found new gryphons to slay, I was not afraid. Neigh, I was happy.”
‘Tis certain I didn’t immediately know what to say to that, choosing my next words with care. “But in the twelve years before that, you were no demon. You were the most patient of teachers, with me and so many others,” I finally offered, hoping I could remind him that he was far more than simply the monster he now called himself.
“‘Tis true that all that time I fought it, but ‘twas always within me, restrained only by the memories of my friends, and the knowledge that they did not wish to see me descend to such depravity again. But when war came, everything changed.” His explanation sent a chill through me as I suddenly feared that Captain Typhoon had been right—that all the time I had known him, the guise of a teacher had just been a mask he was wearing, hiding his true self.
“I embraced it because I thought, at long last, that I had been given a valid reason for the Tartarus I went through. That the demon I became over the deaths of my friends finally had purpose, and thus, there was a reason for its existence! But now, it turns out ‘twas all a lie!” He started to tear up again. “It means that losing my friends and that village really was for nothing! That all I went through and the demon I became… ‘twas all pointless!” He began to cry openly, unable to even raise a hoof or wing to cover his eyes.
I went to embrace him only to be restrained by a healer’s aura, who told me I could not touch him for fear of reopening his healing but still-fragile chest wound. So all I could do was hold his uninjured hoof as he cried. Methinks ‘twas only then I realized where his anguish came from, and why he’d been so desperate to hold on to the notion that embracing the demon made him invincible.
For ‘twas the only way he was able to give meaning to what happened to him—to give meaning to the loss of all he held dear. But now all that had been wrested from him at the point of Gavian’s blade, leaving him with nothing but his innumerable atrocities done falsely in the name of his fallen friends.
‘Twas more than anypony should ever have to bear, but here he was before me, stripped of all but his grief and pain. I knew not how he could recover emotionally from this, wondering if the Captain’s plan to save him had in fact failed. For to see him there before me, it had left him equally unable to fight for us, not for being uncontrollable but for having his spirit completely and utterly crushed.
“I’m sorry,” he finally told me, turning his head away to hide his tears. “Please leave, Blindside. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“‘Tis my choice to stay here, sir,” I told him, wishing there was more I could do for him. “Fell Flight is on liberty, seeing to her remaining sisters, else she would be here as well.”
“She should hate me too,” he said. “Both for attacking her friend and nearly getting another of her siblings killed.”
“Be assured she does not,” I replied. “She stood vigil with me whilst you were in surgery. Methinks the sentries had to throw her out before she would leave your side.”
“Even after what I did? Even after she now knows what I am?” he said in disbelief, to which I only nodded. “She is far too loyal for her own good. And what of Gavian Ravenoff? Dare I ask how he fares?”
“Not well,” I told him after a brief hesitation, wondering why he was asking. “He collapsed after the duel and has not woken up since. ‘Twould seem the Captain’s technique combined with his wounds overtaxed him, perchance fatally. His condition remains critical, and ‘tis not known if he will survive.” I admit I considered not telling him, but decided against it. ‘Twas not that I thought it wise, ‘twas simply that I could not lie to my mentor.
“So I live and he may yet die?” Thunderbolt paraphrased, a hint of a smile touching his face before it melted away like snow under the spring sun. “Such awful irony. Methinks but a morn before, I would have been happy. But now all I feel is empty. For regardless of his fate or what the Captain did to him, Gavian Ravenoff beat me!” he exclaimed in a quavering voice.
‘Twas some seconds before he could speak again. “By rights, Typhoon’s technique should not have availed him, and yet... it did! His speed, his skill, even his wits and sheer force of will… they were all superior to mine. And methinks none but the first can be credited to the Captain.”
“They were?” I was surprised at his statement, as to me, it had been an incredibly even match, with the advantage constantly shifting between them, leaving the duel in doubt until the very end.
“Aye,” he confirmed, even though I could tell how much the admission pained him. “I know how it looked, but ‘twas all an illusion. I could see his moves clearly, and yet even forewarned, he was so fast I could only barely parry his strikes. Methinks ‘twas only my ability to read him combined with my wind and lighting that allowed me to keep up with him at all,” he explained in defeat, his head slumping back to the table.
“‘Tis agony to say, but ‘tis unquestionably the truth: In every way that matters, he is my superior as a warrior. I did not think such a thing was possible, and yet… here I now lie humiliated, soundly beaten and nearly slain by a sixteen-year old cub.
“And if the demon does not make me unbeatable even against such a young and inexperienced gryphon... then Gavian Ravenoff was right that the demon only lived for his own edification, and not for others. All this time, I thought I was fighting for my friends, but ‘tis now clear I was not. So what do I do now?” he asked not just me, but the world at large.
“You can still fight for your friends, sir,” I told him fervently. “But fight the right way. ‘Tis certain we need you in this war, and methinks you do not require the demon to do so. Regardless of its presence, who is to say that you cannot command again and turn those same combat abilities upon the Imperials in battle?” I challenged. “I would gladly serve under your leadership and obey your orders, as long as they are yours and not those of the demon.”
I had hoped that he would respond positively, but instead he gave a derisive laugh. “Sergeant, just stop. What you ask is not possible. For I am not redeemable. I am not worthy of your respect, and after what I did whilst in command at Rial, sacrificing my own soldiers and gryphon civilians alike, I should never be put in a position of military leadership again.
“If you wish me to give you an order, ‘tis simply this: let me go. I am touched by your affection, but ‘tis certain I cannot do as you ask. I do not blame you for not understanding, as ‘tis simply not something I can explain. For without experiencing what I did, you cannot know what I have been through. Or what it did to me.”
‘Twas a wingslap to the face, and ‘twas then I deflated, realizing I’d done all I could. “No. I cannot,” I admitted, tears streaming down my face as I fully comprehended his enormous anguish, and realized I simply could not relate. “I know not how you suffered. I know not how it changed you.” ‘Twas then I remembered:
“But outside this door, at this very moment, is a pony who does know. A pony who very much wants to help you.”
Thunderbolt didn’t even raise his head at my assertion. “Such utter naivety. How and why could this be? Who else has ever seen all they loved and treasured destroyed, slain brutally before them in but a single horrific hour? How could anypony understand what it is to see all your life’s work ruined? To see every friend and comrade you ever knew fall before you?”
“This pony does.” I had to take a deep breath before answering, trying to choke back tears. “His name is Sky Sentry. And he is the sole survivor of Outpost Delta. He was a Guardspony Sergeant assigned there when the gryphons struck. He took command when his CO and second fell and tried to lead the remnants of his battalion to Epsilon... but all fell en route except him! He has been in agony over it no less than you, blaming himself for being unable to save them and trying to find any meaning in their deaths. So if anypony knows your pain… ‘twould be him.”
Thunderbolt didn’t answer right away, perchance processing what I was saying and unable to come up with an immediate reply. “So if you wouldst not speak of it to me, mayhap you might speak of it to him?” I suggested, nodding to the nearest healer, who went out to retrieve him. “Please do so, sir? For me? Methinks he needs to know somepony understands him as much as you.”
‘Twas several seconds more before he spoke. “To find another pony who went through what I did… am I not enough? How could Harmony allow anypony to suffer in such a way?” He shook his head gingerly, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them and giving a slow sigh.
“Very well, Sergeant. I will speak to him. But not for you, and not because I think he can help me,” he quickly clarified as Sky Sentry entered and their gazes locked for the first time. “Neigh, methinks I will do so to ensure he does not turn out like me…”
Such was my first meeting with Thunderbolt in nearly nine months, and ‘twas anything but a happy occasion. Methinks ‘twas not until we talked that I truly knew what ‘twas to be him, both before and after the duel.
As I left to allow him and Sky Sentry privacy, I was crying, unable to fathom how he functioned at all for what he had been through. Perchance ‘twas only then I understood what it had done to him and why, in the end, he had embraced the demon.
For what else could he do in the face of the Imperial attack? Far from an act of evil, he was acting in the defense of Cloudsdale and the memories of his friends, trying to stave off yet another slaughter of all he held dear. I knew from my own first combat action how seductive the thrill of the kill could be, having felt it at least in passing during the Hearth’s Warming raid on Outpost Epsilon so many months earlier. I had slain two raiders in that engagement and feared how heady I felt over them afterwards, but that minor action ‘twas nothing compared to all that he had endured.
Trying to process what I had heard, I went to eat after that, and—still forbidden from exercise, this time for another four days after taking flight too soon—I decided to resume my adjutant duties, writing reports and catching up on battalion business whilst I awaited my turn to take leave. Just as Fell Flight was visiting her sisters, I wished to visit my mother, who had already responded to my message sent from the ship’s communications office that she was safe and eagerly awaited my arrival.
‘Twas at least one point of relief for me, but even that would be short lived. For ‘twas late afternoon when I received word that a new duel, perchance to the death, was about to erupt on the upper observation deck.
And this time, ‘twould not be between Gavian and Thunderbolt, but instead over them between an equally infuriated Fell Flight and Firefly. But ‘tis not my story to tell, and before that, ‘tis time to return the pen to our newest writer, who I regret I have met only in passing once or twice.
—Blindside
For which I apologize, First Sergeant, but be assured the Bolt Knights were admired in the Equestrian Army as much as the other service branches, and in time, their mere presence over a battlefield provided an instant morale boost to our beleaguered forces. I, too, regret that I have made little effort to know you and your surviving teammates personally, either during or after the war. But in the end, ‘twas for two reasons:
First, I found myself making a conscious effort to not get too close to any of my comrades, lest I felt their loss too keenly when they inevitably fell. And second, when I retired, I found myself with an intense desire to avoid any reminders of my wartime experiences, including meetings with those figures who might make me reminisce.
I am not proud of this by any measure, but ‘twas simply my means of emotional self-defense. Perchance as I write this, I will attempt to rectify it, and thus I extend to all of you an invitation to visit my farm in Stalliongrad, where I will offer you what hospitality I can in the form of a feast serving our best produce, including and especially our special reserve cider.
‘Tis Rock Biter writing again. In truth, ‘tis hard to say how I felt upon penning my first entry into the story’s previous chapter. My fear was that I would indeed reawaken old and unpleasant memories, and ‘tis certain that fear was not misplaced.
And yet… I do not find myself crushed by their weight or having nightmares in their wake. In fact, ‘twas an odd sense of serenity and acceptance I felt; one I never dreamt I could experience, having thought such soothing emotions were beyond me.
I admit, I am not entirely certain of their origin, nor do I fully trust them, in the same sense that I never trusted a lull in combat action during the war. I’d been certain it could only mean that the gryphons were planning some form of subterfuge—which, far too often, they in fact were. But with my initial efforts being surprisingly rewarded, I will continue with them, finding myself strangely eager to do so.
Gryphon subterfuge was certainly at play as evening fell on the fourth day of war. I had just learned in horrifying fashion of the Imperial aerial insertion into our rear areas, which cut our communications and effectively surrounded us. Their actions threatened to trap and pocket the entire 1st Corps at Maresk, costing Equestria another two divisions of sorely needed troops.
That much was clear. ‘Twas far less clear at first what I could do about it, with no orders, limited information, and no way to warn brigade or division headquarters of what was happening.
—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
Farmer and Father
Amber Apple Orchards
Stalliongrad
Equestrian Army Encampment
Rear Gate
Twelve miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 4th, 1139 AC
1945 hours
‘Tis certain that civilian casualties are something I have never gotten used to seeing, no matter how much warfare I have endured. The sight of it sickens me, and I had already learned from the Phoenix Fire operation that it did not matter whether those civilians were pony or gryphon.
I simply cannot abide them, but ‘twould seem that the Imperial military was not so constrained. “Please… help us, soldiers!” the younger mare, who looked still in her late teens, begged us through tears and her own bleeding head, pulling a cart full of her dead and dying brethren. “Our town was attacked by gryphons and we barely escaped with our lives!”
“Attacked?” I repeated in confusion as the unicorn medics teleported in with an assortment of supplies, feeling my guts clench anew despite my long combat experience at the gruesome sight of severed limbs and mangled flesh. “But why come here? You were supposed to be heading away from the gryphons! Why are you coming east instead of heading west along the path of retreat?”
“Because we can’t!” she clutched at me with her hooves in fear and desperation, tears streaming down her blood-streaked face. “The gryphons have already arrived! The route west is blocked! They’ve taken Harness Hill, and they’re slaying all who try to pass it!”
“By the sun above…” I realized the implications of that statement instantly, and methinks I was anything but gratified that I had been proven correct and my nightmare scenario had come true—we were surrounded! By taking Harness Hill, they now commanded not just its namesake town, but the main crossroads west of the city, cutting off our only supply route. “They have us.”
Methinks I cannot emphasize enough how dire our predicament was. The loss of that town meant the entire 1st Corps stood enveloped and perchance soon to be annihilated by gryphon forces sweeping in from the flanks, cut off from our communications and our only path of retreat between the dry seabeds.
Before anypony asks, we could not escape across the dry seabeds themselves because, quite simply, they were not-so dry then. As was always the case at this time of year, the late summer rains that Cloudsdale supplied our region in advance of Harvest season had turned them into swamps that were impassable on hoof.
I wanted to curse out Major General Breech Lock in that instant for having ignored my warnings and the obvious danger, but there was no time. If we were to be saved, we had to act immediately, but before I could do anything, I needed to know what we faced.
Thus, I pulled aside the younger mare, who was not initially treated except for basic triage whilst the healers prioritized her more gravely injured compatriots. As I spoke to her, they cauterized her bleeding blade wound with a hastily applied painkilling and searing spell, causing the sickening smell of cooked flesh to waft through the air.
It would seal the wound until the healers could spend more time with her, but she barely reacted. From the looks of her, she was going into shock, less from her physical wounds than all she had witnessed and endured. She was shivering with her gaze downcast, her eyes unfocused.
“Lass? I’m sorry, but I must ask you some questions…” I told her gently, trying not to rush even though I knew time was pressing and I desperately needed answers from her. I chose to speak with her not just because she was the least wounded, but also because she seemed to be holding together the best—that she’d been able to make it the eight miles from Harness Hill in that state was certainly to her great credit. “What is your name?”
“Sw-Sweet Switchel…” she said. “M-my parents ran a p-pub… d-don’t know what h-happened to them...”
“Be assured, we will do everything we can to save them and wrest the town back. But I need information. First, how many gryphons did you see?”
“I… I… I don’t know?” Tears welled in her eyes again as I forced her to remember what she’d witnessed. “S-some hundreds? They struck at dusk! Descended from the sky like a fl-flock of vultures! D-demanded the town’s immediate surrender and wh-when we didn’t g-give it, they started slaughtering everypony!”
“Some hundreds…” I repeated the words despite the grisly declaration, putting myself in the hooves—or talons—of the Imperials. If I was commanding their operation, how many soldiers would I spare to launch an airborne attack into the enemy rear, presumably aware from reconnaissance that there was naught but a militia company there?
Well, if ‘twas me, I would assign a full regiment of Talons to the Task, knowing that would give them a marked advantage of both skill and numbers over such low-quality soldiers. Finally doing what I should have done from the start in analyzing our defenses from the other side’s point of view, I mentally kicked myself for the oversight, blaming myself as well as higher command for neglecting the most basic of military due diligence.
Inexcusably, we hadn’t recognized the hill as a likely Imperial objective given it commanded a critical crossroads. Worse, assigning an earth pony militia company instead of an entire regular army regiment to its defense just made it an even more tempting target, given its capture would instantly cut our communications.
They’d therefore hit the town with a full regiment. Or in gryphon terms, a cohort of 500 soldiers, which would match her description of ‘some hundreds’—minus whatever casualties they’d already suffered plus whatever reinforcements they’d received, of course.
The problem was, a single cohort was likely just the start. Standard Imperial tactics were to lead offensives with far faster and longer-ranged sky gryphons, whether Knights or Talons. They would clear the skies and then swoop in to seize and hold critical points, whilst awaiting reinforcement by earth gryphon soldiers who couldn’t fly more than around a dozen leagues but were far more formidable at ground combat.
Whether or not we could dislodge them would depend on the assault force’s composition. And that meant my next question was: “Were they earth or sky gryphons?”
“Wh-what?” she looked at me in confusion. “Th-they were… gryphons.”
She clearly didn’t know the difference, and why would she? She wasn’t military and as far as most ponies were concerned, gryphons were gryphons; ‘tis doubtful many civilians even knew they had different tribes with different abilities, just as ponies did.
All of which meant I had to find another way to ask the question. “Were their wingspans wider than their bodies were long? Did you see them wield spears or swords? It may not sound important, but these details might very well save the town.”
“I… I…” She began to shake and whimper. I fully realized I was forcing her to recall the slaughter she witnessed, but there was no choice. “L-large wings… saw sw-swords… n-no spears. B-but one had a st-staff...”
“Staff?”
“Y-yes.. he w-was the one who told us to surrender. And wh-when we didn’t, he st-started casting spells from it like a unicorn! Firing lightning bolts at us! He k-killed my brother!” She began to shake harder. “Pl-please, n-no more…”
I swore—so they’d been given at least one Magus in support, and likely two since, from what we knew, they were typically assigned to units in pairs. “I’m truly sorry for your loss and all you have suffered, lass. You’re being very brave. I have but one more question for you, and I promise ‘twill be easy to answer—was the armor the gryphon soldiers wore colored silver or gold?”
“S-silver…” she replied after a moment, causing me to relax in relief, if only fractionally. “N-no gold. M-may I go now? I W-want to be with my friends…”
“Of course. Thank you, lass. You have been most helpful. By the sun itself, I swear we will drive them out of your town,” I promised her, even if I knew not yet how. ‘Twas clear by her description that a cohort of Imperial soldiers had seized the hilltop village and were likely digging in.
But aside from the fact they had Magus support, the news was mostly good—as they lacked gold armor, they were Talon regulars as opposed to elite Knights, and their attacking force was composed of sky gryphons only, meaning that earth gryphons hadn’t been near enough to join the raid and their main columns were likely still some distance off.
That gave us a brief window to try to clear them, as the sky gryphon Talons undoubtedly had orders to hold the town until relieved. But lacking the skill and armor of Wind Knights and the heavier bodies and weapons of earth gryphons, they were simply not as good at ground combat. They could overmatch ill-trained militia, certainly, but would likely be far more vulnerable to the much more capable and better-equipped earth ponies and unicorns of the Equestrian Army—if, that was, the latter could deal properly with their mages.
Put simply, ‘twas true we were surrounded, but the initial shell of Imperial soldiers hemming us was thin and mayhap could be pierced—if we acted immediately. Thus, I ordered the sentries to sound the battle alarms as I placed my blue broadcast gem in the post by the rear gate. The unpleasantly shrill shriek of vibrating crystals was heard throughout the regiment—and neighboring ones, I hoped—as I spoke, my voice booming out again.
“Attention, regiment! The gryphons have seized Harness Hill! They must be cleared immediately, so all soldiers stand to and prepare for battle! All company commanders, break camp and ready your soldiers for offensive action! All senior staff and battalion commanders, report to the rear gate at once!”
Yet again, I am surprised to find that the writing of this section has come surprisingly easily to me, even for the emotions it reawakens. What I recall most clearly of this recounting is not, despite my earlier words, the dead and dying civilians on the floor of the cart.
‘Tis the bravery and determination of this one mare named Sweet Switchel, who kept it together long enough to not just evacuate her friends on the strength of her own will and wounded body, but give me enough intelligence to plan a counterattack.
I regret that I know not her fate, as I had no contact with her after this. So if anypony does know her or what happened to her, methinks I would appreciate a letter. In the meantime, the story of my first combat action in the war continues. Or perchance more appropriately, begins.
—Rock Biter
Equestrian Army Encampment
Rear Gate
Twelve miles southwest of Maresk, astride the road to Detrot
September 4th, 1139 AC
2015 hours
“Sir, with all due respect, are you out of your mind?” Twas certain that First Lieutenant Gleaming Gladius, an earth pony mare who had some combat experience against raiders, had never been one to mince words.
She’d only been elevated from company to battalion commander within the past day, given that her well-regarded superior, Captain Breakout, had been given a brevet rank of Lieutenant Colonel and moved up to be second in command of the brigade in the wake of the assassinations we suffered. I might have been far more annoyed at the blatant disrespect of giving him the post instead of me, had I not been so used to it. “You want us to move west and retake Harness Hill?”
“Do you have a problem with that, Lieutenant?” I immediately challenged, even though I knew full well she had a point—’twas certain, after all, that I had severe problems with it, even though I knew well there was no choice in the matter.
“How could I not? By your own admission, sir, we have no orders, no communications with brigade or division and no real understanding of the situation! The gryphons could strike at any time, and yet you want us to leave our lines, march eight miles in darkness with little cover and attack an enemy force of uncertain size and composition? And all on the basis of information you gleaned from a single traumatized civilian?” she summarized, and put that way, ‘twas certain I was hard-pressed to disagree.
She wasn’t done yet, though. “If the gryphons are out there, we would be leaving our prepared defenses to make ourselves easy prey from the air! If an airborne force spots us in the dark, we could be surrounded and slaughtered before even getting halfway there and worse, leave a hole in our lines the gryphons could then exploit! So what you suggest ‘tis sheer and utter insanity!”
Despite her aggressive and borderline insubordinate stance, methinks I was impressed—she had instantly and without prompting spotted every possible issue with my plan. ‘Twas certain to me that such quick thinking boded well for her as a future combat commander. Assuming we had a future, that was.
“With respect, methinks she’s right, sir,” my executive officer, Major Wheat Thresher, added somewhat tentatively. He, too, was new to his post; I’d requested him as my second given he’d worked with me in supply before, and I found him quite competent and knowledgeable at his craft. Whether that would translate to combat command or not remained to be seen, but at least I trusted him to carry out my orders to the best of his abilities.
“Methinks you are asking much of the regiment on the basis of very limited and fragmentary information. Such an action could unhinge the city’s entire rearward defense by leaving a gap in our lines just as the gryphons strike, and ‘tis certain I do not relish the idea of attacking without orders.”
I forced some steel in my voice, knowing well that in order to get them to follow me, I could show no hesitation or weakness. I also had to come up with a rationale they could understand and accept. “Your concerns are noted, Major and First Lieutenant. ‘Tis certain they are valid. Unfortunately, ‘tis also certain they are irrelevant.”
I held up a hoof to forestall the fresh protests that erupted. “The fact of the matter is the city’s defenses are already unhinged! They’ve cut our lines of communication by taking Harness Hill, which means they’ve already enveloped us!
“Don’t you all understand? The entire Corps is now surrounded, and our sole chance to escape this trap is to break their cordon before it’s reinforced! And the only way to do that is to strike west now, before they can get their heavy earth gryphon infantry in place!”
“But sir—” Gladius seemed to be slumping with every word I spoke.
“But nothing, First Lieutenant! If we do not reopen the retreat route quickly, then ‘tis not just the civilians that will suffer! ‘Tis certain they will pocket and destroy both divisions as well as the entire unevacuated population of Maresk! And every minute we stand here bickering is another moment in which their reinforcements might arrive, at which point every soldier and civilian in the city is as good as dead!”
“Sir, I agree that we need to clear the hill and reestablish our supply lines, but why not wait for orders?” My operations officer, an earth pony stallion named Captain Heavy Halberd, tried next. “Given sufficient time, 5th Division would probably assign an entire brigade to the effort instead of just a single regiment! We could then organize and rehearse it properly and—”
“Organize and rehearse?” I cut him off hard, repeating the words in disbelief. “Are you listening to yourself, Captain? And just how wouldst you propose we do that in enough time for it to matter? We have no means to communicate with the outside, no promises of reinforcement or relief from the west, and no guarantee that Brigade or Division will even act! The only guarantee we do have is that with every passing minute our position is degrading further!
“Within hours, they will have dug in on that hill with a full millennium of earth gryphon Talons with sky gryphon support, at which point it could take the entire division to dislodge them—assuming Breech Lock even allows us the chance to attempt it!” I told them all, trying not to lose patience.
They then fell silent, perchance sensing the truth of my words. “Am I wrong? If so, how?” I challenged them all. “I understand the risks, but they do not change this simple truth: our sole chance of success and saving the entire Corps is striking now, before they can reinforce and dig in! Before we leave, we will dispatch runners to neighboring regiments and militia units to inform them of what we’re doing, and to tell them to stretch out to fill our vacated lines. But leave we will, for we are the closest force and the only ones who can do the job in time!
“If we succeed in this attack, we will occupy Harness Hill until relieved and keep the road of retreat open whilst the Corps falls back towards Melody—methinks that not even Breech Lock could deny the need to withdraw now,” I mused, even if I wasn’t sure that stubborn old mare would actually see reason.
“And if we fail?” Gladius asked, her voice far more subdued.
I gave her a level look. “Then we die and the entire Corps is lost—which is no different an outcome than if we do nothing whilst awaiting orders that may never come, Lieutenant.”
She deflated, hard. My underlings then exchanged a series of looks; to my eyes, some of their expressions were pleading with the others to come up with some alternate plan or logic that would invalidate mine. But in the end, none could.
“My orders are given,” I told them all, deciding that even if not convinced, they were at least resigned to them. “Ready your battalions for a rapid march with unicorn archers dispersed for air defense and to cast camouflage spells. Captain Starstruck, dispatch message runners to neighboring forces informing them of our plans, and also tell them to get word to Brigade and Division.” I nodded to Wheat Thresher, who hurriedly jotted the message that would be passed.
I then drew my personal sword from its side-mounted scabbard, taking its hilt in my mouth to scratch into the dirt beneath our hooves, under the light of Starstruck’s horn.
“We will head west in a single column, with Lieutenant Gladius in the lead. she will make first contact and hold the Talons’ attention, whilst I maneuver the other two battalions to engage the Imperials based on what she encounters. Make them commit the bulk of their forces against you, Lieutenant, so we can strike into their rear or hit a newly vulnerable flank,” I added to her, to which she grimaced but nodded, perchance knowing she was going to take heavy casualties in the process. “We move out in ten minutes, and ‘tis my intention to drive the gryphons from that hill within an hour regardless of the losses we take,” I told them all bluntly before she could mention it. “Are my orders understood?”
As one, they nodded or said yes. “Then battle is upon us, comrades. For the Corps, for the Army and for all Equestria, fight hard and fight well! Do so, and perchance the Moon Goddess will look upon us favorably this night,” I offered up a public prayer, my eyes glancing upwards to the red-hued moon.
“And may the Mare in the Moon guide us…” a previously silent Captain Starstruck added as my battalion commanders came to attention and saluted, then ran or teleported off to get their troops ready to march.
Methinks I will cease my recounting here, as I am finding my memories of the events to follow strangely fuzzy. For the first time in my life, I find myself with an urge to revisit an old battlefield, and retrace my steps. So perchance I will depart for Maresk soon, which is now a simple center of commerce more than a major military base.
Methinks I will find the site of our old encampment, and then walk west along our march route to Harness Hill. I cannot but wonder and fear if the result will be severe flashbacks, and yet… the desire to return remains. And who knows? Perchance when I reach the town, I will find a familiar face there.
—Lieutenant General Rock Biter (ret.)
And if you wish, ‘twill be my pleasure to greet and escort you, General, though I will also understand if ‘tis a journey you wish to take alone. I am greatly gratified you finally decided to write for this retelling, and ‘tis my hope that you will yet find some of the same solace most of us already have.
Greetings, one and all. ‘Tis Firefly again, having returned a day early from the gryphon city of Nova Ocelota in the Canarian Maritimes. ‘Tis a rocky, stormy, windswept place whose waterfront reeks of fish, but whose pubs have some surprisingly strong drinks and whose residents find fun in my old teenage pastime—bar brawls. ‘Twas rather fun to participate in a few again, and with gryphons, no less!
I returned early because Gavian had already left with his family on a fast skiff for the Kingdom, whilst Firehawk told me to leave, saying she loved me but ‘twas time for her to stand apart from me. She promised she would write when she could, though mail service from that isolated colony on the Ebon Ocean is sparse at best and subject to Ibexan interdiction.
She also told me to not worry about her, and to let her do this for the gryphons I once fought. At the very least I can say that for the first time, I fought at her side, taking on an entire pub full of rather rough and ready earth gryphon mariners along with one or two Nightborne thestrals that had made their homes there. We fought back to back and gave far worse than we got, earning the respect of all present, so I at least return knowing that we made some friends and she can indeed take care of herself.
May it be enough. I have also come home to some surprising news—namely, the honor planned for Gavian upon his arrival in the Kingdom. I have just been told of it by a letter left for me by Ambassador Kaval himself, and ‘tis certain my feelings on the matter are quite mixed. ‘Tis no question a great honor they are about to bestow on him, but I fear what it might mean for perceptions of him, both here and over there. Worse, it might also mean he becomes a target for gryphon challenges, seeking to usurp his new rank and title.
Nor am I certain how Gavian himself will take it. He does not actually like drawing attention to himself, and ‘tis certain this will. But as there is nothing I can do about it now except await word, methinks I will arrange to meet General Rock Biter in Maresk, and perchance see if I can find any leads on that earth pony he mentioned wishing to meet again.
Oh, and Fell Flight? Methinks you will be happy to know that I do not return empty-hooved—I have several exotic breeds of fish for your herd to eat, courtesy of your admirers amongst the Nova Ocelota Nightborne. I also return with a cask of aged gryphon rum from the owner of the pub I frequented, though perchance I will keep that one for myself!
—Firefly
Why, thank you, Captain! I very much look forward to eating them. So the town you visited had not just fish, but booze, brawls, and bat-ponies? ‘Tis all the best things in life, so methinks I may have to plan a trip to Nova Ocelota myself!
—Fell Flight
“Heroism doesn’t always happen in a burst of glory. Sometimes small triumphs and large hearts change the course of history.” —Mary Roach
