//------------------------------// // Chapter 59: The Battle Ends // Story: The Centurion Project // by TheEighthDayofNight //------------------------------// “What do you think this place is called?” Elias asked. Gray Granite looked up, tilting his head in confusion. “General?” Elias clenched and unclenched his fist, working his wrist with the opposite hand to ease the pain he was already feeling. He was tired, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Some ponies were asleep in the bloody grass, trying to get what rest they could during the lull. He envied them their ability to ignore the sounds and smells of the battlefield. “What do you think this place is called?” he repeated. Granite looked out into the battlefield, then back up to the human. “The field?” Elias closed his eyes, suppressing a sigh. “Yes Centurion, the field. What do you think this field is called?” Granite again looked to field, frowning in thought for a long moment. He remained silent for awhile, then finally looked up again and shrugged. “I don’t know General. It’s a field. Why does it matter what it’s called?” Elias let out his withheld sigh. He faintly wished Scarlet was beside him. The crimson pegasus would get it. “All the great battles have names Centurion. Breeds Hill, Cannae, Teutoburg Forest, Gettysburg, Waterloo…” he shook his head, trying to think of more names, but found himself drawing a blank. “My point being that good battlefields have a name, so that they’re easy to remember.” He glanced to the dirt path that was the trade road. “There aren’t any known towns in the area, so I was curious if the minotaurs had a name for this place.” Granite looked to the hill for a third time, concentrating as hard as he could. Still, his eyes made an upward return, and he again shrugged. “I don’t think so General. It’s just a hill.” Elias felt a twitch in his eye, and his temper flared for a moment, his voice raising with it. “Damnit, I know it doesn’t have a name, I’m trying to give it one! I can’t just come out and give it a name though, that wouldn’t sound cool!” Granite continued to stare at the human blankly, and Elias let out a second, far deeper sigh as he rubbed at his face. He faintly heard what sounded like a snigger from one of the ponies around them, but elected to ignore it. “I’m such a loser,” he muttered. “Right, so Centurion, what do you think this place should be called?” The direct prompt finally provoked Granite’s brain to function. “Well…” the earth pony answered sluggishly. “What about the Battle of the Saddle Arabian Trade Road? That’s the nearest landmark I can think of.” “That’s too long,” Elias said with a frown. “It needs to be short, easy to remember.” “Elias Bright’s Hill?” Granite offered, his tail wagging with hope. The pony let out a disappointed whimper when Elias again shook his head. “My name doesn’t fit, and I’m not so vain I need a battlefield named after me.” He rapped the hilt of his gladius with his fingers, then smiled. “The Battle of Scarlet Hill.” Granite blinked up at him, then looked out to the battlefield, his eyes looking pointedly toward the crimson stained grass. He nodded slowly. “That’s really deep.” Elias let out a snort. “Maybe to a poet, but I was just thinking it would make a great present to Strategist Shield. Give it a week, and he won’t shut up about the history of it. The blood on the grass, on our uniforms…” Elias smiled and nodded. “Yeah, The Battle of Scarlet Hill. Rolls off the tongue well.” His eyes twinkled with mismatched delight down at Granite, who smiled back, looking quite pleased that he had helped decide on the name. “Go spread the word about the name,” Elias told him. “Gotta name this place before anyone else thinks to.” Granite nodded and with a tail waggle and a salute, he was off. Elias clasped his hands behind his back, waiting silently as the earth pony began to whisper about the battlefield’s new name. He vaguely wondered if he should have added a note not to tell Scarlet, but decided that the pegasus was going to find out one way or another. He’d probably be even happier learning the new name on his own. Not knowing what to do with himself for the moment, Elias looked around, his eyes eventually settling on the small pile of arms and munitions a few runners had managed to take from the supply wagons. Spare shields sat stacked beside a few near-empty pilum racks. Elias walked over and picked one out at random, again feeling disgust as he tried to get comfortable with the magically lightened shield. He also snatched up one of the pony-sized pila, turning it over in his hands to try and gauge how hard he would need to throw to properly hit his target. The javelins were slightly shorter, and a touch lighter, but even slight adjustments would throw off his aim. Elias sighed and tried to adjust to his new gear as he made his way forward. His eyes moved up, looking along the main battle-line with an analytical touch. The Solar Guards were his primary focus. While The Lunar Guards looked the most battered of the front-line troops, the golden-clad guard still looked the most fragile. It’s members looked exhausted, and too many eyes were looking back to the hive of activity that was the wounded area. Lines of red-stained white sheets fluttered in a light fall breeze, the cloth doing well to keep pests away from the fresh bodies. No such treatment was being given to the masses of minotaur bodies. They were left to rot in the sun, the occasional pony slipping among them for whatever reason. A few were targeting wounded. Some for healing, others, not so much. Elias knew he preferred the latter, especially when he glanced back at the rows of sheets. The cows deserved to pay. Elias swayed in place for a moment, the sun stabbing at his eyes. Sweat soaked his tunic, and he couldn’t believe how tired he was. Then with a blink, he snapped back into reality. He stepped back, narrowly avoiding an axe blade that scratched at his armor. Reversing the motion, Elias lashed out with his gladius, carving a bloody line in the bull’s throat. Blood gushed free, and the bull fell away. At the same time, the gap in the Solar Guard widened as a fresh charge impacted it. “Breach!” came the call from the front. The core of the charge; more well-armored bulls, bypassed the Solar Guard, their naked brethren absorbing the ponies’ attacks and engaging them. The armored brutes pushed all the way through the golden line and rushed down the hill to the roiling melee that had surrounded the royal carriage almost as soon as the battle had resumed. Only his legion was still holding a coherent and steady line, while the rest of the field was more a mass of fighters. The Lunar Guards had been flanked early, their scouts picked off at a range, while the Solar Guard had suffered repeated breakthroughs. Smaller routs had caused these gaps to widen, and no amount of troop-reallocation could solve the problem, he had tried. Gray Granite had sprinted back to the legion line to try and drum up reinforcements but had so-far not returned. Elias didn’t hold hope that he would. Any troops that moved their way would have to fight their way through, and being hasty would only result in more casualties. No, the time for careful strategy was fading, replaced by sheer ferocity. Magic was running dry, ammunition was scarce. It was a contest of brute strength and will, and their enemy was well versed in both. Only spilt blood would end the day. Elias engaged another minotaur, this one wielding a pair of swords. The cow had short horns, barely stood a head taller than the human he was facing. His fingers clenched nervously around the leather wrapped hilts of his weapons, and he seemed hesitant to fight. Elias sneered at the young bull. “What’s wrong? Used to fighting soft little ponies? Shitting your pants now that you’re faced with a real killer?” The bull snorted, his gaze hardening ever so slightly. “I’m not afraid of you.” Elias rushed forward, slamming his shield into the bull’s hands just as his fingers twitched again. The blades fell to the dirt as Feather plunged into the minotaur’s guts. Elias met the bull’s shocked gaze with wild eyes. “You should have been.” He planted a sandaled foot against the bull’s chest and pulled his gladius free, sending the soon-to-be corpse to the ground. He then spat on the corpse, his eyes looking for another target. They were plenty, and steel spilled blood as he killed minotaur after minotaur. As he finished slaying a bull in thick leather barding, a roar rose among the battle-noise. “Elias Bright!” Elias squinted against the setting sun, a mistake made clear when the solar body was blocked by the massive swinging shadow of a minotaur with a warhammer. The blow was a backhanded swing, the user using his dominant hand to provide the power while his off-hand provided stabilization. It was akin to a baseball bat meeting the ball. All of this Elias could think of as he flew through the air simply because his opponent had made the wrong kind of strike. Had he been smarter, the attacking minotaur, who Elias knew was Stone Horn from his stubby, un-covered horns, could have killed the formerly unaware human with an easy one-handed strike to the side of his exposed head. Elias could feel cool air on his hair as he flew backward. His helmet was gone again; he couldn’t really remember where. Before any ideas could come to mind on how he could keep track of his helmet, his spine slammed into the carriage. It rocked back with the force of the blow, and he dropped to the grass with a grunt. Elias rested face down, trying not to cry out in agony. Something was hurting in his chest, and had it not been for his enchanted armor, his spine would likely have snapped in two. In truth, the hammer blow might have caved his entire chest in if not for the same armor covering his front. He had not time to mentally thank Anyon for his fine craftsmanship however. Stone Horn stalked forward, shoving fighters on both sides out of his way as he came to deliver a finishing blow. Elias tried to move, but his limbs spasmed uselessly. The only thing he could successfully do was curl his fingers around the hilt of his gladius, which he had somehow retained his hold on. The shield he had been carrying was gone, but plenty lay on the ground, the ponies abandoning them while in a general melee. The auxiliaries he had tasked with guarding the carriage door rushed forward toward Stone Horn. The unicorn levitated a trio of short knives ahead of their charge, and the blades immediately set upon the young minotaur, poking and prodding his armor, looking for gaps to plunge into. The other auxiliary, a pegasus, flapped onto his hind legs and threw his pilum at Stone Horn. He flowed smoothly into drawing his gladius with his teeth and charging forward. Stone Horn ignored the knives, even when one found an opening in his shoulder guards and stabbed in. He instead focused solely on the pegasus. He swung his warhammer in a wide arc with both hands, batting the javelin from the air. In the same motion he brought the warhammer over his head, and, just as the pegasus closed in, brought the hammer down. Elias closed his eyes as the sickening sound of a neck snapping filled his ears. He focused on getting his limbs to work, starting with the one that was already semi-functional. Fingers curling led to his wrist moving up and down, then his elbow. It took long, pained filled seconds, but he got one arm, then both to work. He pushed himself up slightly, only to let out a cough that sent spasms of pain down his chest. Blood spattered the grass as he collapsed again. “That’s not good,” he groaned. His eyes couldn’t help but open as Stone Horn closed with the unicorn. The mare dipped back from the first swing, and her magic flared as she added the gladius of the dead pegasus to her dance of blades. Much hardier, she didn’t try to find a weak spot with the blade, instead opting to hack at the minotaur’s back. Stone Horn swatted at the sword for a few moments, trying to keep it from inflicting more than superficial wounds. All it would take was one cut, especially if she aimed lower. On the ground, Elias could see quite a lot of legs, and he noticed something rather quickly. The minotaurs had rather thin, spindly legs make of pure bone and muscle. Moreover, they all lacked armor protecting their legs. It made sense, nobody was going to target the legs of a target when their big meaty torso offered a much easier to hit target, but the minotaurs, like ponies, liked maneuvering. They shifted and danced about on their tiny, exposed legs. One good hit, and the top heavy bulls would drop like a sack of flour. Especially one covered in armor like Stone Horn. Elias tried to call out a warning, but blood filled his mouth and throat, garbling his words. “The legs!” he spat, trying to clear his vocal chords. “Aim for his legs!” His voice was too quiet, too muddled, but somehow the unicorn heard him anyway. The pair of knives dipped lower, and began swiping at Stone Horn’s lower half. The bull roared as one knife plunged into his thigh. His attempts to stop the gladius were abandoned as he targeted the sword’s user. He plowed onward, heedless as the blade bit into his back. His meaty hand grabbed the unicorn mare by the throat, and with a pained roar, he threw her into a throng of fighters, sending two pegasi and a minotaur staggering to the ground. The blades dropped, their magical stimuli vanished, and Stone Horn’s eyes flicked over to Elias with enraged intensity. Elias coughed out more flecks of blood, and for some reason, the motion let strength trickle back into his body. He managed to brace himself up on his elbows, managed even to get a knee beneath him. His hand closed around his gladius as a shadow roared overhead. Elias rolled to his left just as Stone Horn’s warhammer came slamming down into the space he had just occupied. Motion gave him more strength, and Elias’ roll carried him to his feet. The human and the minotaur glared hate at each other, both panting heavily as blood pattered to the grass. “I’ll kill you,” Stone Horn growled. “You’ll die trying,” Elias spat in reply. The minotaur roared and swung high with his warhammer, forcing Elias to duck. As he did so, the motion of the weapon suddenly, reversing its direction to sweep lower. Unable to avoid being hit, Elias instead attacked with a step forward, using Feather to chop at Stone Horn’s arm. The slight bit of forward motion saved him from the head of the hammer, allowing him to only take the force the handle smashing into his ribs. It was still enough to drive the breath from his lungs, and Elias couldn’t help but gasp as his chest tightened. He reared his head back, then slammed it forward into Stone Horn’s muzzle, stunning the bull long enough for him to take a few steps back. Elias clutched at his ribs as his chest heaved. Something was broken, but he didn’t have time to focus on that or the fact that he wasn’t drawing in enough air. He slashed at Stone Horn as the bull tried to rush at him. Feather grazed the minotaur’s armor ineffectually, and the warhammer came swinging by again. Elias managed to dodge the swing, and tried pushing Stone Horn to throw off a second. The bull took his shove with a laugh and responded by grabbing the human’s armor. Elias turned his head and closed his eyes just as Stone Horn’s forehead met his cheek. One of the bull’s stubby horns cut a line down his neck, and then he was in the air. Just as quickly he was on the ground, choking on blood as the sky rolled. A shadow through black into the spiral, and Elias was vaguely able to recognize the one casting the shadow over him. Stone Horn’s smug grin acted as a good focus for his swimming vision, as did the warhammer twirling in the minotaur’s meaty fists. “Not bad Bright,” the minotaur said, rubbing across his bloodied muzzle. “Got a new scar or two, that’ll look good at tonight’s celebration. ‘specially when I have your head to go with ‘em.” “Go to the Keepers now,” Stone Horn said, raising his warhammer above his head. “I do you a favor by giving you a really warrior’s death. Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll let you into their feasting hall.” Elias, his chest tight with a lack of air, held his chin high, facing the bull with both eyes open. His heart palpitated momentarily, but he refused to feel fear. A stray thought crossed his mind, and he faintly hoped that Night Flash and Book Binder wouldn’t miss him too much. “General, don’t!” a mare shouted Just as the hammer began to descend, a gray blur sprang from the carriage, slamming into Stone Horn and sending him stumbling away. The blur then dropped to the ground, panting hard as his wings flopped uselessly beside him. One eye looked to Elias, and Midnight Chaser grinned. “Are you making friends again? Some of that human culture sharing?” Elias responded by giving the pony a middle finger. He then rolled onto his side, managing to draw in a ragged breath as he located Feather. “I don’t make friends with things I’d eat,” he coughed. “Now get back in the carriage.” Chaser rolled his eye. “Make me.” Then a roaring Stone Horn was on him, slamming his warhammer into the dirt. Midnight Chaser darted back, then just as quickly darted forward, plunging his wingblades at Stone Horn’s throat. The minotaur dipped to the left of the attack, taking a cut across one of his shoulders. As the pair set about dueling, Elias cast about the ground, quickly locating the equipment he needed to turn the fight back in his favor. The fighters around them didn’t seem to care about the stumbling human, and he was easily able to find what he wanted. He scooped up a fallen scutum first, then ripped a pilum from a minotaur’s still corpse. He got to his feet, his mismatched eyes finding the pair just as Chaser made a mistake. Stone Horn swung at the pegasus’ blind side, and though he attempted to dodge, Chaser didn’t duck low enough. The hammer grazed the pegasus’ forehead, sending him stumbling back. Elias popped his pilum into his hand, quickly gauging its weight and the distance he needed to throw. Stone Horn reversed the swing before Chaser could recover, and the pegasus let out a squawk as the warhammer smashed into his ribs. He crumpled to the grass, his wing flapping wildly as he tried to ward away his opponent. Elias took in a deep breath, his eyes flicking as everything slowed to a crawl. The math was easy, the pilum perfect for the short distance. His fingers curled tightly around the pilum shaft, and his arm drew back. Stone Horn ignored the feeble swipes of the wing blades and one of his legs reared up, casting a shadow over Chaser. The pegasus curled his wing to protect his head. Elias took in another breath, then his balance was gone. A minotaur shoved him against the carriage with a snarl. The human answered by plunging the pilum into the bull’s throat. He kicked the javelin free and turned, his body remembering everything about his target perfectly. He was just in time to hear the sickening crack of Stone Horn stomping through Chaser’s defenses. The pegasus’ wing fell, and he didn’t move. Stone Horn’s eyes flicked to Elias, who let go of the pilum, his body following through the motion even as his brain froze in shock. The javelin ripped through Stone Horn’s shoulder, and the bull staggered back, clutching at the bobbing shaft. Elias stared at Midnight Chaser, silently begging the pony to twitch, to moan, scream in pain, anything. The pegasus did no such thing, the only movement about his body being his feathers waving lightly in the afternoon breeze. Elias saw red. Adrenaline fueled what his lungs could not and he ran at Stone Horn. He dropped the scutum, his hands both taking a place on Feather’s hilt. Stone Horn ripped the pilum free just as Elias rammed his gladius through the bull’s hip, his rage throwing his aim. He didn’t care that the strike wasn’t a killing one, however. In fact, he quite enjoyed the shocked look in Stone Horn’s eyes as their gazes met. Elias ripped Feather free, causing Stone Horn to howl with pain. Elias savored the sound. He ducked a punch from the bull, and, with his body lower, his next attack targeted the bull’s legs. Tight as they were, he couldn’t get a proper chop off at one of the bull’s legs, so he settled with a slight gash. He let Stone Horn shove him away, keeping his balance as the warhammer came for his chest. Elias again ducked, cutting at Stone Horn’s forearm as soon as the head of the hammer had passed. Stone Horn howled again, and he tried to turn as Elias stepped around his backside. Time seemed to slow again for the human as the bull presented a truly beautiful target. Stone Horn had to shift his feet to turn all the way, and raising a leg in the air… Elias took Stone Horn’s leg off at the knee, and he relished the splash of blood that warmed his front. Off-balance and unable to recover, Stone Horn collapsed onto his back, his eyes alight with pain-fed rage. He flipped onto his belly and tried swinging his warhammer at Elias’ legs. The human merely had to step back as the two-handed weapon flopped uselessly in the dirt, then he stepped forward. The bull tried to rear up and grab him, but again, Elias side-stepped his clumsy swings. Some part of him took a savage glee in watching the murderous bull struggling in the dirt, but it was far out voiced by the parts of Elias’ brain calling for a long, painfully drawn out revenge. Elias planted a foot on Stone Horn’s armored back, shoving his face into the dirt. The human drew in a ragged breath, knew that his adrenaline fueled strength was already beginning to fade. He drew Feather back, eyeing the spaces between the leather protecting the minotaur’s neck. His jaw locked in a snarl, and his arm drew back just a bit further as his muscles prepared to execute. “Wait!” Stone Hoof bulled his way between two minotaurs, knocking them aside. They, and their pony opponents froze in confusion as the elder bull dropped the axe he had been wielding and fell to his knees. “Please, not him. I beg your mercy General Bright.” His head lowered, and his arms spread out wide, his fingers open, his hands empty. “I surrender, you have won. Please do not kill my son.” “Stand up Elder!” Stone Horn roared. “Do not disgrace y-” Elias stomped on his head, grinding his muzzle into the dirt. “Shut up,” he hissed. “Shut up or I feed you your balls before I rip your throat out.” His eyes flicked up to Stone Hoof, his head still down, his arms still outstretched in surrender. The sight made him furious. He didn’t want the victory Stone Hoof was offering, didn’t care about such a victory at all. The bull beneath his feet, glaring hatefully upward; his death was a real victory. A small, soft spoken, part of his mind worked to cool the rest. It understood the rage that demanded the bull’s head, but it spoke too of Stone Hoof’s abilities as Elder. A horn dangled from the elder bull’s belt, a horn that could so easily call for a halt to the battle. He could save ponies by the dozen with a single horn blow, and all he needed was an order delivered at sword point. Elias found that small voice infuriating, and it drove his rage even higher. High enough that he couldn’t contain himself. His lungs drew in enough air to allow him to let loose a bloodthirsty howl into the scowl. The scream served to bleed away some of his frustration, and even as the last sounds left his lips, Elias stabbed Feather into the dirt beside Stone Horn’s head. Elias climbed off the bull’s back, kicking off his helmet before kneeling and drawing forth a knife. Using one of the bull’s stubby horns as a grip, Elias pressed the knife to Stone Horn’s throat. “Your surrender isn’t enough Elder,” Elias spat. “Call them all off or I’ll make you watch while I flay the skin from your son’s bones.” Stone Hoof looked up hopefully. He moved too slow for Elias’ taste. “Now!” the human bellowed, spittle flying as his knife drew blood from Stone Horn’s neck. That sparked action. Stone Hoof ripped the horn from his belt and rose to his feet, blowing one loud, clear note. He blew with all his might, and immediately, the bulls further afield began to disengage; slowly at first, but eventually in a great wave, withdrawing to the forest. Those minotaurs fighting immediately around them broke away from their individual fights to fill in around the elder. Some were caught with their backs turned, and the remaining Royal Guards and auxiliaries cut them down. The battered ponies encircled the remaining bulls, baring teeth and weapons, showing the minotaurs in no uncertain terms that they wouldn’t leave the circle alive. Not unless someone told them to back off. Stone Hoof looked toward Elias and again spread his hands. His eyes focused on the knife still pressed to Stone Horn’s throat. “It is done. Now-” “Now you’re going back to whatever hovel you call a camp and you’re going to tell the rest of your army to fuck off,” Elias interrupted. He nodded to the tops of the trees, where the sun was still just barely above them. “Look at the sun Elder. See where it is?” The minotaur glanced back to the trees, then to Elias. “I do.” “If the sun slips below that treeline and you aren’t back with news that your army is done fighting, I will nail your son to a tree and will spend the rest of my evening ripping out his entrails, inch by bloody inch.” Elias could feel his eyes widen with wildness as he continued. “I will have my legionaries collect every single weapon from this field and I will personally ensure that each and every one is stuck into his body.” He yanked Stone Horn’s head to the side, drawing a pained gasp from the bull. “I will make this murdering bastard suffer in ways that have never been seen before, and I will enjoy making you watch every single second of it.” Elias spat out a glob of blood, his chest already growing tight again. He grimaced in pain, hiding it behind a snarl. He couldn’t talk much longer. “Have I made myself clear?” he let out in one last growl. Luckily, Stone Hoof didn’t seem to notice his labored breathing. The bull flinched and nodded. “I understand. I will do as you say, and in exchange, my son will live.” “Then leave,” Elias rasped. “Daylight’s burning.” He nodded toward the auxiliaries boxing in the hill-side of the circle, and they pulled apart a narrow corridor, their weapons glistening as their eyes silently dared the minotaurs to attack. None did, with all of them keeping a tight formation as they escorted Stone Hoof away. All watched as the bulls passed through the Solar Guard before moving up the hill and disappearing into the treeline. Elias continued watching for a few precious moments after they were gone, waiting for more arrows, or rolling boulders, or a suicidal charge to save their warchief. Nothing came. With an absence of violence came a more complete cooling of his temper, followed swiftly by every nerve in his body screaming their alarm bells. Elias pulled his knife away from Stone Horn’s throat and he shoved the bull’s muzzle back into the dirt as he slowly got to his feet. “Make sure he doesn’t die,” the human rasped, pointing to Stone Horn. “No pain reduction. Just because I agreed to spare him doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be in pain.” Nobody moved, with the ponies battle-fury fading in the eerie silence that was coating the battlefield. Cries of pain seemed somewhat muted, and the ponies still on their feet seemed too shocked to move. Elias supposed he would have to do something about that. He took as deep a breath as he could manage before speaking again. “Today ponies!” he bellowed, jolting those nearest to him. “Just because the fighting is done doesn’t mean it’s time to nap. We have wounded that need treated, dead that need collected, and we still have miles that need marched. Get your asses in gear and get to work.” ‘Too many words,’ Elias thought as he struggled to hold back a cough. ‘Need to be more concise.’ Luckily, though his words made his chest tighter, they also sparked the ponies into action. Auxiliaries began picking those clad in red out from the fallen, calling out for healers for those who were still bleeding. The Royal Guards followed their lead near instantly, and the movement was contagious from there. Two Royal Guards took Stone Horn from beneath Elias’ feet and dragged him behind the royal carriage. The warchief said nothing, his eyes dulled with either pain, or shame. Elias didn’t care either way, and instead began to walk toward the carriage door to report as he had promised. He made it three steps before he was on his knees hacking up blood. Elias closed his eyes, trying to focus entirely on drawing in breath, and luckily, he was marginally successful, in the regard that he didn’t black out from oxygen deprivation. Lucky also that someone quickly came to his aid. Hooves dragged him to the side of the carriage and laid his back against it. Elias squinted against the setting sun to find Bloody Bandage powering up her horn. Magic began to settle on his chest, but he gave the pony a flick on the nose, halting her spell. The unicorn met his eyes with a scrunched muzzle. “General, if you’re coughing up blood, you likely have…” “Broken ribs, collapsed lung, abrasions in my throat, it could be a laundry list,” Elias rasped. “You’re not going to fix it on the first try, and I’m not going to die immediately. Save the magic for the harder cases.” He swallowed dryly and pointed to Chaser’s unmoving body. “Get started by covering that up.” Bloody Bandage’s eyes followed his finger, and her ears pinned back. “Sweet Celestia no…” she whimpered. “Tell no one,” Elias said. “I’ll…” he winced and clutched at his ribs, “I’ll make an announcement once I have the final casualty report. We don’t need ponies dropping now, got it?” Bloody Bandage swayed in place for a moment, then what tears had appeared in her eyes were wiped away. A steely expression passed over her muzzle and she nodded. “Yes General. You will need to address General Chaser’s successor as well. The Royal Guard moves on.” “Later,” Elias mumbled, closing his eyes. “Cover up the body and start saving the wounded. The fewer we need to bury, the happier I’ll be.” “I’ll make sure somepony comes over to check on you,” Bloody Bandage said. Elias barely heard the pony as he began to doze. He gasped awake as someone shook his shoulder, sending splinters of pain through his chest. His eyes opened to the sun below the treeline, and Snowball tightly wrapping a bandage around a cut he had at some point received on his leg. Ice Blossom stood just behind him, her voice loud as she issued orders. A pair of legionaries stood guard beside the carriage entrance, and Wood Chop was already working to mend the door. Elias couldn’t help but stare at Ice Blossom as she finished giving orders. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they merely stared at each other in silence for a few moments. They both began to speak, but Elias got his words out first. “Centurion, General Chaser…” “I know,” Ice Blossom cut in. “I saw him being put in the casualty wagon.” Elias sat in silence for another moment. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “It was my-” “Shut up,” Ice Blossom again interrupted. “Don’t you dare dishonor him by saying you could have done more. He dove in because he knew there was no other way, and I won’t have you spit on his dying act like that. So with all respect shut it General. We all knew the job, this is part of it.” Elias coughed and nodded in agreement. “Yes, it is. So is grieving. If you need time-” Ice Blossom snorted dismissively. “You of all ponies don’t get to talk about healthy grieving practices. I’m fine, and I will keep being fine until the job is done. That’s final.” They stared at each other again before Elias let out a tired sigh. “Fine, but Centurion; I of all people know best how important proper grieving practices are. The last thing I want to see is more copies of myself running around.” Ice Blossom withered slightly at that. “I…” her tone lost some of its heat, and she matched his sigh. “I’ll take some time later General. There’s too much to do now.” “I agree, but take that time Centurion,” Elias responded. “Avoiding it only makes it worse, only makes you act stupidly.” He winced as Snowball tugged the bandage tight. “If you want to talk later, my door is always open. For now though, how close are we to being ready to move out?” Ice Blossom looked out across the field. “First Centurion Night Flash sent out our scouts to look for an alternate place to set up camp. We have far too many walking wounded to march the remaining eight miles, especially not with gear and prisoners.” “How many prisoners?” Elias asked. “Just the one,” Ice Blossom replied. “We paroled the rest without their thumbs.” “Good, makes our job easier,” Elias said. “Are our wounded and dead accounted for?” “As in do we have everyone unable to move in wagons? Yes,” Ice Blossom said. “We still haven’t treated everypony, or taken a count yet.” Elias held one hand to his ribs and used the other to claw his way to his feet, using the carriage as a brace. Snowball buzzed in protest, but didn’t vocalize, instead pinning himself to Elias’ side to act as a balance. The human didn’t have enough strength to reject the loveling’s help as his vision swam. Still, his feet were steady enough beneath him, and his lungs wasn’t terribly tight for the moment. “Get everyone back in the column and get a report from the scouts. We walk to the nearest clear spot or our planned location, whichever comes first. Once a position is located, have the engineers put their gear on wagons and run ahead to get started on the castra. Tell them to make it semi-permanent. We will be staying for a few days to get things in order.” Elias cast his eyes across the battlefield, noticed things moving in the dark trees on all sides of the field. “Have we collected all our lost equipment?” Ice Blossom nodded. “What wasn’t broken beyond repair or enchanted. I made the decision to leave the rest.” “Good. And do we know who is waiting for us to leave? Are the vultures going to be a problem?” “No,” Ice Blossom said. “Emissaries from three diamond dog clans, an un-accociated minotaur clan, and changelings from at least three hives have come forward to magically swear that they just want the chance to pick the battlefield. They’re waiting for us to leave and they even promised to deliver any bodies we accidentally left.” “Good enough,” Elias grunted. “Go give the orders. Let’s leave them to their picking.” His eyes shifted down to the loveling beside him, his mind already at work on something different. “There are other changeling hives?” Snowball nodded as shouts flowed across the battlefield and ponies began drifting toward the road. “Six major ones that are common knowledge in the Badlands, more uncounted hives, smaller in nature scattered everywhere else. Queen Chrysalis is one of the major six, or at least she was. My queen’s spies have not heard much from her of late.” “With luck she’d be a corpse,” Elias grunted. “But I have a feeling that my luck is beginning to dry up." ***** "What should we do my Queen?" her drone hissed in the hive mind. "The human has achieved his victory, but at some cost. We could attack now, snatch away dozens of captives while they are still dazed!" Chrysalis gave the notion some thought as she stared through her drone's eyes. A small group of her changelings had remained on the sidelines during the battle, content to watch the two armies throw themselves at each other. Even as she watched the Equestrian army limp away, some of her drones worked in contest to the rest of the scavengers, though unlike the dogs or bulls, she had no wish for steel to scrap, nor did she want enchanted weaponry and armor. No, her prize was the same thing the other hives sought; fresh love suppliers. Minotaurs were hardly the best choice, and wounded ones were even less so, but still, healing their wounds was child's play, and once she had sucked them dry of love, transforming them into more mindless drones was just as easy. So her drones scoured the battlefield, picking out the wounded from among the corpses. Enough remained watching the Equestrians to execute a small ambush, snatching away a wagon full of wounded ponies… Chrysalis wordlessly told her drone to buzz forward to the edge of the treeline. As soon as he set his eyes on a wagon of wounded he was set upon by three of the human’s “legionaries” and a pair of Lunar Guards. The drone turned into a millipede and crawled away as fast as his tiny body could go as spells lashed the brush around him. “That answers that,” Chrysalis replied. “Do you still think that the ponies are an easy target?” The drone mulled silently for a moment, then begrudgingly admitted defeat as he crawled away from the flashes of light. “No my Queen. I apologize for my foolish suggestion.” “It is the old way of thinking,” Chrysalis said, expanding her thoughts so that all her intelligent drones could hear. There was always time for a good lesson for all her sons and daughters. “But as Elias Bright has again evidenced, that way of thinking does not work. He has turned soft targets into a force of warriors. The ponies are not to be underestimated again, and we shall do nothing but watch and wait. Let our opponents do the playing for now. Am I clear?” The hivemind buzzed with a few dozen replies of “Yes, my Queen”. Then it fell to silence as the drones on the battlefield focused on the task at hoof. Chrysalis withdrew from her fleeing drone and instead opened her real eyes. Her temporary throne was covered in layers of enchantments to make it invisible to the naked, and magical eye. The throne was placed on a hill with an ideal, though not perfect, view of the city. She left the perfect view for Elias. He was clever, and she knew that he would want the best position when he arrived. She couldn’t risk discovery, nor did she want to move her temporary hive mound. So she sat watching over a city soon to be conquered without fear of being found. Tall, shining white walls of stone were surrounded by massive stockades of wood and dirt. Fires burned by the hundred, and no gaps sat in the siege fortifications. The eyes of those within the city walls were focused far more on the besiegers directly outside their gates, and the eyes of said besiegers were focused only on getting within the city. At their current rate, the minotaurs would certainly find a way to defeat the Saddle Arabian defenders before any reinforcements arrived. Their own armies were far away, scattered around their various border forts, still completely unaware that their capital was under siege. That was partially because of her, of course. The minotaurs kept a tight net to prevent runners from escaping, but even they couldn’t counteract every attempt. Magic and wings were far from a minotaur’s specialty, but for changelings... Those that slipped past the bulls were easy prey to find, especially so laden with emotions like fear, and hope. They glowed like torches to the eyes of an emotivore, and they certainly made tasty snacks. Chrysalis licked her lips as she watched another attempted breakout. It was a distraction of course; The defenders of the city were little more than average horses turned into a functional militia by the Sultan’s guards, but still, they did fight well backed into a corner. While the minotaurs in the immediate point of battle converged, a trio of horses slipped down the mountainous walls, their forms obscured with the wavy distortions of ‘See-me-Not’ enchantments. It was a clever use of magic, and even served to obscure their emotions slightly, but as they slipped over the minotaur stockades and began to run toward the towering woods some distance from the city, their souls flared with the light of hope. The drones around her began to hiss and creep forward with excitement, but Chrysalis raised a hoof, holding them back. “No,” she voiced. All eyes shifted to her, and the air bled confusion, along with a touch of relief. Chrysalis cast an eye to Trax, who shrank low to the ground, his relief turning to shame. She didn’t deign him a word, and instead addressed the rest of her children. “The minotaurs will break through to the city sooner than the Equestrians will arrive at their current pace. They must be warned, must move faster if my plan is to work. We will let them run to their saviors.” She grinned wickedly. “And soon they will be drawn straight into our web.”