“Yes, sir.” Pastor moved to the window, aiming his obscured MR8 through the door, the silencer barely touching the frame of the windows. He steadied his breath and aim, letting the bead slowly drift on to the griffon’s head. The roaring behind them slowed to a low breeze, as the wind dropped off as well as being obscured by the large stone roof.
Then there was the sound of thumping coming from inside, and the door on the far side opened, revealing a messenger toting bags brimming with scrolls. “General Highcloud?” He retrieved a scroll and handed it to Highcloud. “A letter, from General Strongbeak.”
“Thank you, messenger,” Highcloud said, taking the scroll thoughtfully. “And here he said he’d be visiting personally.” The messenger bowed, leaving the room as quickly as he’d arrived. Highcloud cut through the wax seal on the scroll, and unfurled it for reading. “Hmm... really now? The project is proceeding along a lot better than expected... but it seems that the tables of progress have now inverted each other.”
“A project? Sounds important,” Mendoza asked.
“Willing to bet my entire gun collection that it’s their ace in the hole,” Raymond said. “Something that could help them turn the tide when shit hits the fan. Wouldn’t surprise me if it has something to do with dealing with our benefactors from the other side of the peaks.”
Highcloud continued his musings as he brought out an empty parchment to inscribe his own message upon. “Damn it, Strongbeak, resistance was far greater than anticipated... to think that he’d want to push the agenda so soon is pure folly. I swear, if I wasn’t here, he’d already have marched us right into their hooves...” He began writing at a quick pace, muttering to himself the whole time.
“Timeframe less than fifteen minutes now,” Pastor warned. “We’re going to need at least ten just to get out of here, and that’s assuming we don’t run into any trouble.”
“Take the shot, sir?” Raymond said.
“Do it.” By then, Highcloud had already finished his letter, and was beginning to roll up the parchment for delivery as a scroll.
The process was smooth and quick: Raymond quickly let loose a single round from his MR8, a small hiss escaping as the suppressor worked its technical magic. It flew true, finding its target directly into the side of Highcloud’s skull just as he was through sealing the wax, spilling blood on the table.
“Target eliminated,” Raymond said.
“Good,” Talbot said. “Shell, pop open the window, and head inside. We need to retrieve those documents. Scope, you’re on overwatch. Fuse, you and I are heading downstairs to make sure our door guards didn’t notice. Leave the window in the same way that it was before on your way out.”
“Yes, sir,” Pastor said, as Talbot followed back down the roof. He slowly pushed the windows open, stepping inside one foot at a time; Raymond maintained his aim on the door, ready to unleash a burst of rounds to any who entered. Pastor quickly rolled up the two documents and stuck them inside his utility pouch, and gave Highcloud a close examination. “Oh, he’s dead, alright. Let’s get out of here.”
He hopped out, closing the windows to their original state and quickly made his way down the roof to join Talbot and Mendoza, but stopped when he noticed that Raymond didn’t follow. Turning around, he saw the sniper picking up the lone brass casing, and storing it in his own pouch.
“Don’t want to leave any souvenirs,” Raymond said.
“Guards didn’t hear a thing,” Mendoza said, Talbot looking over his shoulder. Pastor and Raymond joined their observation of the oblivious guards until Talbot motioned them forward.
Inching back into the brightly-lit room, chandelier jingling above them as the winds outside resumed their turbulence, they quickly veered left and began down the stairs again. The sound of metal on stone came from ahead; Pastor and Mendoza, who were taking point on opposite sides as they descended the stairs, immediately stopped.
This was bad: they were caught halfway down, with someone coming up the stairs. The only thing they had going for them was that the light was partially darkened, being the only source of light around until they reached the torches at the base of the stairs.
“Up against the wall, and hold... very... still...” Talbot said. The camouflage had been tested have significantly less effectiveness at close ranges, requiring that the user remains mostly obscured behind cover or otherwise present themselves in a fashion that eliminates any telltale signs of presence, like shadows or profiles.
The lone griffon that ascended the stairs was dressed in the telltale armor of an elite, his helm clanking against his shoulder guards. He proceeded forward, as four invisible rifles remained pointed at his head; they all held their breaths as the griffon stopped between all four of them, suspicious that he had seen their forms.
“Aa... choo!” the griffon sneezed, nearly toppling his helmet off in the process.
The griffon gave a groan of disgust as he continued forward, muttering things about being sick and the damned weather. None of them dared to move until he reached the top of the stairs, in which they heard the sound of a blade being sheathed; Raymond had apparently brought out his combat knife, waiting to pounce and deliver a decisive killing blow as a contingency.
“Seriously?” Mendoza whispered. “You think a knife is going to work on a guy wearing that much armor?”
“Not if I could take him down before he could do anything,” Raymond responded.
“He could have alerted the guards up there by screaming or something.”
“Can’t scream if you don’t have a throat.”
“Why not just be all sneaky-sneaky and try not to raise the alarm here?”
“Well, if we did get caught, it would be either that or let him go yelling all the way up the stairs about how there’s some two-legged freaks stalking around the base.”
“Cut the chatter. Keep moving,” Talbot interrupted. There was a murmur from up the stairs as the guard who had just passed them initiated a casual conversation with Highcloud’s door sentries.
Proceeding further down the stairs, they returned to the secluded halls that they passed through while entering. Compared to their stint outside on the roof of the structure, the inside was much warmer... which was what must have lured in several shuddering guards, who now sat in the center of the corridor conversing with each other.
“Crap. More of them,” Mendoza said.
“Hold,” Talbot ordered.
“Clock’s ticking...” Pastor warned. “...and it doesn’t look like they’re going to be moving anytime soon.”
The voices from upstairs suddenly grew louder, and more urgent. Thumping steps rapidly descended the stairs, as the guard they had seen from earlier reappeared, his weapon held at the ready. His compatriots huddling in the halls gave a curious gaze his way.
“You two, guard the doors,” he said. “And you, get to our barracks and order the troops to assemble.” The ordered griffon quickly nodded and marched off to bring the rest of the elites to his superior’s assembly.
“What’s going on, sir?” one of the others asked.
“I just found General Highcloud dead in his study. And I just passed his messenger on the way inside. We’re going to get him and bring him back here for questioning since he was the last one to speak to Highcloud alive... which means that either he killed him, or someone else did.”
“Are you sure it’s the messenger, sir?”
“I’m fairly confident it isn’t... the guards recall Highcloud still talking as the messenger left, but we’ll have to bring in the apothecaries to check for poison later to see if he actually did have a role in this. For now, keep a low profile, and do not tell anyone else about this.”
“Do we even know who killed the general? Could it be a pony? Or ponies?”
“I don’t know,” the officer replied, annoyed. “But if it was a pony, it would have to be one especially skilled to have managed to make it up here without being detected.”
“Shouldn’t we lock down the base?” the same guard asked.
The griffon officer shook his head. “We... I’m giving the orders for this. Word of this is going straight to Strongbeak. Let us just pray to the ancestors that our punishment is merciful. The soldiers can’t know about this, especially not so close to our assault. It would affect morale in ways that I’d rather not think about. Now, to your posts.”
Shuffling away down towards the entrance of the inner fortress, the griffons quickly disappeared out of sight. Talbot motioned the Ghosts forward, now that the coast was clear. They ended down at the entrance, stacking up against the doorway, silently observing the two guards maintaining their vigil outside.
“So much for that,” Mendoza said. “I didn’t think they’d end up finding the body until maybe a couple of hours later, at least. So, long stairway down, mountains on both sides, and from what I can see, it’s the only way out...”
“Unless we want to be stranded here, I don’t think we have any other choice,” Talbot said. “Out the door, single-file, but take it slowly. It looks like the winds are picking up, so that might work in our favor.”
As if on cue, the winds blasted through the open doorway, earning them a visible shudder from the guards outside as torches wavered violently. The sky sat as a muddied dark gray in the sky as beginning signs of snow began falling to the ground. One of the guards muttered something in discontent to his friend under the din of the wind.
“Sure, just.... real slow-like, right?” Mendoza went first, obscured form slowly inching out the doorway as the rest of the squad followed suit. As they all filed out towards the beginning of the stairs, they again held the sights of their guns on the griffons’ helmeted heads.
“Cold. Always cold,” muttered one of the guards. “And now Highcloud’s dead, too. This day just keeps getting better and better.”
“I just don’t get how anyone could have gotten up here,” the other responded, more occupied with the clearly more important situation. “There’s just this accursed set of stairs that lead up to this fortress, with absolutely nothing else around for miles that anyone could have used to get up here. Highcloud has been adamant in keeping at least four air patrols active around here at any given time!”
“Do you think they could have gotten past us when we moved inside?”
“Absolutely not. You and I both know it, and so does Reigen, curse that lucky fool for getting sent to the barracks where it’s nice and warm. We were all standing in the halls that led directly upstairs, nothing in the way around us. If anybody tried to sneak in from the outside, the air patrols would have spotted them with absolutely no trouble.”
“I... honestly have no idea. As much as I’d like to say something about this, I won’t. Surprising, though, considering that we had both Gert and Iton guarding the doors. Nothing gets by those two without them noticing.”
“It might be magic. Pony magic. You know how they can use that stuff. Maybe they snuck in somehow.”
“Really? You really think that they somehow perfected a way to just do a long-range teleport all the way to Aerocem just to kill Highcloud? I could imagine better griffons to kill. Strongbeak or Red Talon, for one.”
“Not teleport. Maybe they have some crazy mind control magic and got one of our own or maybe they used invisibility or something. Argh, I don’t know. I feel bad for the captain... Strongbeak’s not going to be happy when he hears about this.”
“At least he’ll know what to do about it, at least.”
The conversation ended without much fanfare, as Talbot had to suppress his amusement; they were more right than they thought, at least when it came to one of the solutions, at least. They held a definite advantage over the griffons’ simplified thinking that their guests would either have been one of their own or a pony.
“Clear, and down the stairs,” Pastor said, breaking into his thoughts. “Double time now.”
Calling it ‘action’ was most likely an understatement. A good number of griffons clad in the armor of the elites now prowled the premises with a watchful eye, unsure of where to look but still observant for anything out of place. Their wandering forms were marked with the telltale yellow diamonds on the Ghosts’ crosscoms.
Several of the regular guard standing at their posts eyed them, giving worried glances. After all, what could have happened that required the elites to now be patrolling the common quarters? Any possible answer to that question was most likely not good.
“It’s a good thing we have this camo,” Mendoza said. “I’d just hate to see how we’d get out without being... well, a ghost.”
“Hang around right. We need to get up to the stairs again,” Talbot said. That would be a problem, considering that most of the outer sheltered halls for the courtyard were occupied with... more guards.
“If only it were that easy...” Raymond said. “Guards everywhere, some outside, some inside, no route through. What’s the call?”
“Why not just stick to the shadows under the halls, try to sneak by without being noticed?” Several bells rang in the distance as the foreman began shouting more indiscernible orders in the dockworks beyond. “Looks like they’re wrapping things up.”
Always with the guards. “Fine. Stick to the shadows, and move slowly,” Talbot said.
Moving through the hallway past the columns of the courtyard, one of the guard approached an elite in the center of the courtyard. “Hey, uh... sir, what’s with all the activity?”
The elite scratched the back of his head. “No idea myself, really. The captain said he wants us all on patrol and on our best behavior. Kind of strange considering he told most of us to take the rest of the night off just a couple of hours ago to celebrate...”
“Oh. Uh... did he say why?”
“Something about Strongbeak visiting in the future, might be really soon. Probably a good idea to get your barracks cleaned out and armor cleaned before he shows up. The general isn’t really one for sloppiness. Make sure the rest of your buddies know. It’s never a good thing for any of us if he gets... irritated.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Thank you, sir.” The guard quickly moved out of the chilly courtyard and ventured towards his right towards the barracks doors... and straight for the Ghosts, who had only rounded the first corner and were on their way to the stairs up when the griffon began his approach.
“Clear the doorway,” Raymond said. The squad split into two as the griffon casually opened the door and entered, none the wiser to the intruders immediately to his left and right. There was the sound of greetings inside and various joking as the guard entered, accompanied with a soft breeze of the heated interior as he closed the door. “Move.”
Mendoza, who at the moment was the point man, wordlessly activated a sensor grenade on his belt. The device produced more results from the dockworks as it continually pinged the area, but still remained accessible due to its position on the belt.
“Clever. Wonder why I never thought of that,” Pastor said.
“Well, these things used to be one-time use. But if we can re-use them when we need to, why not make them useful?” Mendoza said. “Now, keep moving. I swear my legs would have fallen off already if I didn’t have all this exo-stuff. I don’t know how 30K’s squad can handle walking around in this low crouch all the damn time; without the exos, it’s a pain in the ass.”
“Squats, squats, squats,” Pastor joked, following Raymond up the stairs, who in turn followed Mendoza. “It was a godsend they made these things.”
“Yeah, no more backbreaking labor, ‘cause we have—hold.” Pausing at the top of the stairs, another pair of guards passed by. “...right, ‘cause we have these things. The door to where we came from looks clear; we just have to trail these two guys until they pass by.”
The two guards continued forward, no bothering to share in conversation much like their companions; the cold gave them something too direct to focus on, and they begrudgingly wished the end of their patrol would come faster. Mendoza led their four-man line behind them, making sure not to bump into the boxes and barrels that littered the upper halls.
“Quietly now...” Mendoza said to no one in particular. He led their line into the foreman’s observation post, again sneaking by the grumpy supervisor as they filed back on top of the beams. Below them, Bloodfury and Fellwyre stood waiting with Leret nowhere in sight. A guard approached them as another balloon set off into the sky to descend back towards the city.
“You two, what’s the hold up?” the guard asked.
Bloodfury shrugged. “We’re waiting on one of our guys. He went to the bathroom.”
“Oh, right. Carry on then.”
“Sounds like our friends managed to stall,” Raymond said.
“It’s not like it’s hard... I mean, everybody here just thinks they’re workers. Who cares if one of them goes to the bathroom?” Mendoza said. “Anyway, we’re at the drop now. Watch your step.”
Dropping back down into the shadows where they ascended, several of the base’s workers began turning in for the night. Bloodfury looked around in worry, sure that the Ghosts would hopefully arrive in time before Leret returned and they were forced out.
“We’re overstaying our welcome, gentlemen, time to bug out,” Talbot said. They moved back behind the giant wall of piled boxes that they snuck around, as they regrouped in the shadows. He uncloaked within range of Bloodfury and gave a short inconspicuous tap on the box next to him, getting the griffon’s attention.
“Wh—oh, you’re back. Great.” Talbot silently nodded and recloaked as they waited for Leret to return. “Now to wait for Leret...” he muttered.
Two minutes passed before Leret returned, trying his best to casually stroll to the balloon as quickly as possible. That, however, was quickly brought to an end as the foreman shouted at him, mostly disapproval at them being the last to leave.
“Alright, alright!” Leret shouted back up. “We’re on our way!” He walked up to Bloodfury as Fellwyre took to the basket. “Uh... are they back?”
“They’ve been back for a bit now. You arrived just in time. It’s time to get out of here.”
There was a great amount of commotion down on the other side of the docks: a group of griffons flew into the docks, wearing the striped blue insignias of the air cavalry, and brought forth a screaming messenger, tossing him in front of a group of elites. He was then carted off unceremoniously as other griffons looked on with a mix of confusion and fear.
“I agree,” Leret said quickly. “Let’s go.”
Talbot motioned for his squad to take up their positions on the side of the balloon’s supply cage again, and with that, they escaped undetected. Mostly.
“So, mind exactly giving us the rundown on what exactly happened in there? We got a whole bunch of Strongbeak’s legion soldiers breathing down our necks after you guys disappeared,” Bloodfury asked.
“Well, we sort of killed Highcloud. And they sort of.. found his body,” Mendoza said, taking a drink from his canteen. He tossed a small bit of wood into the fire in front of him and stoked it for a while, happy that the frigid night fell after they’d returned back to their hideout.
“That’s... surprising,” Fellwyre said. “Normally, it’s mandated that the base be put under full lockdown, which would have made our escape with all four of you in tow take a lot longer than normal, and probably more difficult. What changed?”
“Their general, that’s what,” Talbot said. “They specifically mentioned that Highcloud’s death to be kept under wraps, and that Strongbeak was the only one to know about it besides themselves. They also mentioned something about morale.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it’s no wonder they wanted to keep it quiet.” Fellwyre pulled out some scrolls, and unfurled them across his makeshift box table. “It’s the eve on one of their supposedly greatest assaults on the Equestrians yet. All the generals have troops dedicated to this particular attack, so to hear that one of their officers, a general no less, was killed so close to the attack... it would severely dampen the fighting spirit of those on the frontlines.”
“So what if he gets killed?” Raymond said. “Don’t they have replacements?”
“Highcloud would be replaced in due time, like any griffon officer of merit who is taken out of action,” Leret replied. “But the nature of griffon military society means that generals do not get to their positions without achieving some semblance of respect from his troops. To hear that the general of one of the Empire’s most long-standing and esteemed military divisions was killed would most definitely affect the performance of all troops involved, but especially those that served under him.”
“Does that mean the troops are on his side? That they agree with this whole shpiel that Strongbeak’s spouting?”
“Most likely. Loyalty and glory are two very important pillars of griffonic society. Strongbeak’s propaganda is far-reaching and all-inclusive, giving promises of being able to deliver both... well, it’s enticing, but there are those who see peace as a more important ideal, to move beyond our more aggressive past and forge a better future. Emperor Arcus and General Scarclaw are two such griffons. The sides are pretty clear-cut on the issue, but it seems that we are the minority, while the military itself, under the guidance of Strongbeak’s command, lean towards their ideologies.”
“Well, most of us in the loyalists did serve under Scarclaw at one time or another,” Bloodfury said. “Strongbeak is going to want to look into this, see if there’s any way to catch those that killed Highcloud, but with Whisper’s identity under our control, we can deflect any attempt to oust you.”
“Aside from that, though... we did find something interesting.” Talbot said, and nodded. Pastor dropped the two scrolls they’d obtained from Highcloud on the table. “We found these right before we killed Highcloud. I’d wager that it’s pretty important.”
“I see the seal of the Bastion on one of the scrolls. A direct message from Strongbeak? This should be interesting,” Leret said.
Bloodfury opened up the scrolls and began reading as Fellwyre and Leret did the same over his shoulders. “Hmm... this project sounds worrying. From the looks of it, it seems Strongbeak has the Institute of Magic working on something for him.”
“Is it anything we should be worried about?”
“Honestly? Probably not. The Institute of Magic has less than several dozens scholars, so I can hardly see if they’re going to get anything massive done on such short notice. It was originally an organization created by Emperor Arcus as a way to study the beneficial effects of magic. You can imagine how much better things would be if we could use... say, telekinesis like the Equestrians, for instance.”
“So, what are the chances that we’re talking about a magical doomsday weapon here?” Mendoza asked.
Bloodfury scratched his chin. “Well... again, probably not. Most of the Institute’s focus was only on beneficial magic. Emperor Arcus himself kept a keen eye on most of their studies and research reports, making sure that they didn’t stray off the path. But things have changed, and we don’t know how much Strongbeak knows about magic, or how much effort he’s put into it... but whatever this project is, it was important enough for him to send a message to Highcloud about it.”
“We ourselves can’t really do anything with this information, but I’m sure our intelligence network may be able to help in learning more about this ‘project’,” Fellwyre said. “I know of several ex-Institute members across several cities in the Empire. Perhaps I shall try and see if they know anything. Until then, it’s best to send it to someone who can use it.”
“There are some dead drop locations here in the Aerocem highlands,” Leret said. “Scout group Obsidian is operating nearby, up in the steppes to the west. I’ll notify them about the information, and we can move on to the next city.”
“Right, so who’s the next one on the chopping block?” Raymond asked.
“General Castshot,” Leret said. “An apt name. Pretty sour, and grumpy most of the time, last I recall. But he has good combat sense, so there’s at least that. He operates out of the fortress city Kruvem, sitting in the middle of the plains west of the steppes.”
“Yeah, I read about that,” Pastor said. “Kruvem looks to be a real pain to get into. Almost as bad as Aerocem right now, but I don’t think this one’s going to go quietly. Especially not with how he operates.”
“What do you mean?” Talbot asked.
“He has guards around him at all times. A little paranoid, not Whisper bad, but it’s still going to be a pain to find somewhere nice and quiet to off him.” A single click sounded echoed in the cave as Raymond cleaned his M107, having it left to collect a bit of dust in their hideout when they embarked on their mission.
“Well, we’ll need things to help us plan our attack. City maps, the general’s daily schedule, anything,” Talbot said.
“That can be arranged,” Bloodfury said. “Heh, and here I thought General Scarclaw’s suggestion to keep maps of our cities outside of Tesseraka was a bad idea. Always thought it would lead to our downfall. Well, technically, it still is, but just in a different sense. The general has some on hand, but we’re going to have to get them delivered to us.”
“Excellent. So what else do you know about Kruvem?”
“Practically built on a solid foundation of natural stone. The city itself was built to be the sister city to Fortress Helmguard just due west of it. Unlike Helmguard, however, Kruvem is an actual civilian city, mostly inhabited by military families.”
“I should know,” Fellwyre added. “Whisper and I were raised there.”
“In any case, loyalist support from Kruvem is... low, to say the least, so we’ll be working off of entirely external aid with this one. Last I heard, they aren’t accepting supply wagons, either, since they have their own farmlands to provide. Soldiers guard the walls and gates at all times, and they’re not the slackers we had in Carseract; these are the real deal. Getting in is going to be a pain in the ass.”
“We’ll deal with that as we come to it,” Mendoza said. “Just making sure, we’re talking about huge walls and all that crap, right?”
“Yep, huge walls,” Bloodfury confirmed. “Kruvem was made to be impervious to direct assault. Being one of the first cities founded after our capital, you can see the influence of its defense architecture in our other cities, too.”
“Oh, and there’s an important thing I think you Ghosts should know,” Leret said. “General Castshot, as his name implies, leads the artillery division of the military. Kruvem and its adjoining fortress will definitely have warehouses scattered throughout with munitions that you find may come in handy.”
“So... what, bullets or something?” Mendoza said.
“No, you idiot,” Pastor said. “He means gunpowder... and explosives.”
“And lots of it,” Leret said, nodding.
Mendoza gasped, a look of glee slowly spreading across his face. He held his fists up in the air in triumph, pumping them several times before sitting down and uttering his single line of full contentment.
“Fucking jackpot.”